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Post by The Fixer on Mar 13, 2016 21:55:22 GMT -5
A hint of surprise going off in her head. Then a warm feeling starts. Her heart sighs. When he breaks the connection all she can think is "No!" She doesn't let the space linger between them. Closing the distance she kisses him. Pouring her heart into it. The electricity lights, causing fireworks in her head.
Thoughts have dissipated. Feeling has taken over. Her arms twine around his neck, her fingers caressing and snaking into his hair. She's all in. It's like coming home when you didn't know you were missing it. Like a void she didn't know was there had finally been filled.
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Post by W.R. Lawrence on Mar 13, 2016 22:29:14 GMT -5
As her fingers found their way into his hair, the all Lawrence can think is a startled, "Perhaps I made her wait too long..." After that, all conscious thought ceased. Other thoughts vanished into the blue sky like steam over a tea kettle never to be seen again. Lawrence kissed her back with a hunger that he had felt all of his life. A hunger that only she could fill. She was his now, he had no doubt and he hoped she knew that he was hers too. Even though he did not want the kiss to end, he was forced to come up for air. Moving back just a bit he stared down at her. The look on her face was pure heaven and he was awestruck by it. He smiled as he looked down at the woman he loved, he wanted to say something witty but the amazing kiss and lack of oxygen to the brain denied him that. So he said what was on his heart, "I am and will remain most affectionately, yours."
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Post by The Fixer on Mar 14, 2016 7:41:52 GMT -5
Her heart beating nearly out of her chest, blinking, she finds herself looking in his eyes. Her brain, clearly unable to grasp a thought at all.
Those eyes, so alight, a world of tiny stars sparkling just for her. His smile, somehow different than before. Maybe it's the feelings playing over his face that mirror her own. Maybe it's the complete absence of all thought.
Somewhere in the giddy recess of her mind, below the collective sigh of the rest of her, she swears he said something. No matter.
Her heart singing, no cognitive thought in her head, she speaks "I cannot comprehend this cloudless heaven."
Realizing she's floated away on her feelings and the moment she smiles at him, thinking only to prolong the connection, she nestles into his arms a little. Drinking in the moment and watching the birds soar overhead.
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Post by W.R. Lawrence on Mar 14, 2016 9:46:22 GMT -5
As he sits there propped up on his elbow looking at her he struggles for rational thought. Bits and pieces come and go, never forming a complete thought. He just drinks from the spring the is her sweet smile like a man who was wandered for days without water. Every time he touches her he can feel the electricity between them. He doesn't want this moment to end. He floats along on the wave of emotion that soon washes him up on reality's beach. Still a bit drunk on love he leans back in close and kisses her softly and says, "I intend to give you a thousand of these before I'm through." They spend the rest of the afternoon in each others arms, amazed at what is occurred but not wanting it to end for they knew it might be short lived. Lawrence works hard to ensure he gives her the thousand kisses he's promised. After each one Clue beams and giggles. It is paradise, even if only for a little while.
Sitting on the hilltop at sunset they watch the sun slowly fade into the distant horizon. Moving back into the house Lawrence prepares the fireplace. Even these warm days have cold nights. The cottage feels different now. As he brings in firewood he thinks that under different circumstances he would might see Clue in an apron preparing supper. Music from the gramophone filling the house which she had made into a real home. After starting the fire he would wash and then come into the kitchen, kissing her on the neck as he walked by to help peel the potatoes. Talking about their respective days, Lawrence would wash the dishes while supper cooked in the old stove. Yes, he could see it.
Forgetting himself for a moment he realized that in the here and now he had better get this fire going. In the other room Clue sat at the table with her file open once more, working hard to decipher the messages. Finally coaxing the old fireplace to life Lawrence stands with a yawn. He walks up behind Clue, places both of his arms around her shoulders from behind and kisses the back of her neck. She giggles a bit as he walks around the table and sits down across from her. "Hi" he says cheerily. "Any luck with that?"
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Post by The Fixer on Mar 14, 2016 12:16:57 GMT -5
Ich habe es geschafft das Telegramm hier schließlich zu übersetzen. Danach bemerkte ich, dass das gemeinsame Geschwätz , die " la foi en eau" Linie als "Glaube in Wasser" übersetzt hat, aber es kann auch als "Vertrauen in Wasser" übersetzt werden. Sobald ich das herausgefunden , erinnerte ich mich an ein Gedicht, das ich einmal gehört . Ich bin mir nicht sicher, ob es dir etwas bedeutet. Es wurde von einem Mann namens geschrieben ...
The look of total bewilderment on Lawrence’s face makes Clue throw her head back and laugh. She realizes she’s speaking at him in rapid German, and french and he hasn’t understood a word.
“Let’s try that again… I have managed to translate the telegram here, finally, passing it over. After that I noticed that the common chatter, has the “la foi en eau” line translated as “Faith in Water” but it can also be translated as “Trust in Water”.
Once I figured that out, I remembered a poem I once heard. It was written by a man named Mahmoud Darwish. Though, I’m not sure I’m remembering it quite right. Let me see. I think it goes:
I have the wisdom of one condemned to die, I possess nothing so nothing can possess me and have written my will in my own blood: "O inhabitants of my song: trust in water" and I sleep pierced and crowned by my tomorrow… I dreamed the earth's heart is greater than its map, more clear than its mirrors and my gallows. I was lost in a white cloud that carried me up high as if I were a hoopoe and the wind itself my wings. At dawn, the call of the night guard woke me from my dream, from my language: You will live another death, so revise your last will, the hour of execution is postponed again. I asked: Until when? He said: Wait till you have died some more. I said: I possess nothing so nothing can possess me and have written my will in my own blood: "O inhabitants of my song: trust in water."
Does any of that make any sense to you?”
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Post by W.R. Lawrence on Mar 14, 2016 13:25:33 GMT -5
"Trust in water." Lawrence murmured to himself. Standing to his feet he began to pace slowly. "What does water have to do with this?" he thought over and over again. Then he stopped and closed his eyes, the memories of Um AL Aish returned to his mind, the destruction, the heat, the smell... The smell!" He opened his eyes. Excitement starting to creep in, he began to pace again. "There was a metallic smell at Um Al Aish in the aftermath. The bodies also had burns but not just thermal burns, chemical burns as well. That's it!" Looking over at Clue a flash appeared in his eyes. "Trust in Water, Water is the anti-dote. Basically, this weapon can be neutralized in large amounts of water. So what does that tell us? Strong Acids and Bases can be neutralized in large amounts of water." he walked back around the table and sat down his mind racing. "Thermal & Chemical burns, so its got to be a Flammable Acid/Base of some sort." he surmised. "So this must be some sort of compound that when the shell explodes the flammable part burns and volatilizes the acid or base turning it into a hot gas. That would explain what I saw, the flashes and weird colors would be from the compound mixing with the little bit of moisture in the air." he said slumping back in the chair. "Explains the positions of the bodies too. They died in pure agony. If you breathed something like that the gas with combine with the moisture in your lungs turning back into a liquid and dissolve your lungs from the inside out."
"I'm going to look back through these manifests again, there has to be some clue as to what this is." Lawrence said excitedly. "Great job! You've given me a great direction to go." Lawrence stands, runs around the side of the table gives Clue a kiss and hurries back to his chair to try and prove his theory.
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Post by thebardess on Mar 14, 2016 14:25:36 GMT -5
From his vantage point on a nearby hill, Agent Myles Steede of the Society of Zosimos, smiles with satisfaction. At last! He'd started to think those dopey lovebirds were never going to quit their mooning about and head back inside. A man with little patience for the sickly-sweet sappiness of lovers, Steed's sole interest in romance is in the way it so often makes his job easier. It certainly has this time. Smith, the least adept agent of the SZ, had at last managed to be useful- his amateurish obviousness had early on alerted Lawrence and Clue that they were being followed, and his subsequent demise had both rid the SZ of a liability, and provided the agents with a false sense of security. Following his death, they assumed the immediate danger was past, and had subsequently become so engrossed in gazing into each other's eyes and murmuring ridiculous sweet nothings to each other that they hadn't even thought to keep an eye out for any other pursuers. It had been easy to determine their destination, and even easier to sneak in ahead of them and hide a powerful explosive device under the hearthstone. Since then, it had been a waiting game- one that was finally over.
Pulling the cell phone out of his right pocket, Steede quickly dials a number and puts the phone to his ear. It is answered after the first ring by a cooly elegant female voice.
"Hello?" "Hello Anna, it's Myles." "Myles, darling!" A slight note of plesaure creeps into the duchess's voice. "I wasn't expecting to hear from you so soon! Any news?" "Yes, and all of it good. Things have moved even faster than I hoped. The Curator's new agents aren't nearly as clever as they think they are. They're holed up in Lawrence's cottage together as we speak, and the device is ready to blow. I hope you've got the champagne ready, because in about ten minutes, you can call Vevoda and tell him the problem's been taken care of." "Myles, darling, how wonderful! Can I assume, then, that you'll be available for dinner at the chateau tomorrow night? Edouard will be making his cherries jubilee." "Of course, I wouldn't miss it for the world. See you then." "Until tomorrow, then!"
Steede hangs up the phone and smiles again. Will the Curator never learn? Reforming the OSS as the MPC hadn't worked. Trying to hide the MPC under the cover of Canadian Military Intelligence hadn't worked. And does he really think his precious Sitting Room hasn't been infiltrated a dozen times over? Time and again, the SZ has proved that it will always be one step ahead, and time and again, the Curator and his pathetic coterie continue to underestimate the vast resources and sheer cunning of their rivals. And now it's about to cost them again.
Grinning with anticipation, Steede moves his hand to the trigger by his side. Pressing the button, he watches with smug satisfaction as the cottage before him blows into a million different pieces.
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Post by W.R. Lawrence on Mar 14, 2016 18:02:40 GMT -5
Rubbing his eyes Lawrence stands to his feet and decided to walk into the living room to stretch his legs. As he passes an open window he notices how quiet it is. Too quiet. No birds, crickets, nothing. With a sense of dread he looks around for the Webley and tucks it back in his pants. "Two rounds left, better reload." he reminds himself. Walking over to the hearth for the old box of shells sitting on the edge. He notices one of the stones looks out of place. Looking closer he sees a light coming from behind it. "IED!" his mind screams. He yells to Clue, "Get the file and get out now! Go out the front!" The panic in his voices compels her to move without hesitation. As she moves through the door he runs for the open window. As he jumps through he hears a quiet, beep. In the next instant the cottage ceases to exist. Still in the air Lawrence is bombarded by stone, wood and hot metal. The shock wave ripples through him. A large chunk of stone from the outer wall strikes the back of his head. He never even feels himself land in a small copse of trees just outside the cottage's foundation. He strikes the ground, the Webley flying from his grasp and he doesn't move. Unconsciousness envelops him in its stony blackness.
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Post by The Fixer on Mar 14, 2016 19:46:38 GMT -5
Having learned the tone, Clue grabs what she can of the file and runs for the door, knocking over the chair in her haste. Wrenching the door open, she hits the grass at full speed, only to be thrown from the blast.
For the second time in two days, a slow motion reel plays out. Pieces of the cottage go flying by her, smaller bits pepper her back like tiny little needles of plaster in a sand storm. The file goes flying. She flies through the air and watches as the ground literally leaps out to greet her. She's pretty sure she hears screaming but can't be sure it came from her. The once pleasant garden is now a solid mass stopping her. She marvels for one brief second at the sudden weightless feeling of flying. Then she's slammed into the ground. As she hits all the air is knocked out of her body in a whooshing sound. The ground stops her body but not her momentum so gravity and the angle of her fight cause her to awkwardly bounce/skid for a bit. Her bones and muscles are jostled around. A strange cracking noise registers and there is pain in her body. She momentarily blacks out, lying in a heap while the rest of what was the cottage rains down around her. An audible "oof" is heard.
Groaning, she cracks open her right eye. The left side of her face is dug into the ground a little. Trying to move, her body registers pain everywhere. Taking a moment to breath and mentally determine if she can move, she realize most of the pain isn't sharp. Lifting her head off the ground to spit the dirt in her mouth out, she looks around a little. The yard is chaos in debris.
Concern registers loudly as she can't see Lawrence. She tries to get up. In doing so she notices she's landed awkwardly on one arm but the other, scratched and cut, seems ok. She braces herself to get up and screams in pain. Left wrist broken. Grunting, she goes to move her legs a little to roll over instead, she finds a deep gash in her right calf and a piece of wood beam sticking out of her left thigh.
Adrenaline protecting and masking most of the pain she groans again, sitting up. Looking around at the scene she sees chunks of cottage, fireplace, wood, plaster, metal all over the place but she can't see Lawrence.
"LAWRENCE!" She screams with a raspy voice. Coughing out more dirt and debris she feels a strong hand land on her right shoulder. Roughly, she's hauled backward. Trying to see who is dragging her she looks back but doesn't recognize the man and can't see his face.
She starts to struggle. Pain blooming in her legs as the wood chunk jiggles around and the calf wound gets opened a little more. Dragging across the ground by this mystery man sends her brain into fight mode. She instinctively forces her body to dead weight. Trying to make it harder for him to move her. Ignoring the pain the best she can, and blinking away the tears in her eyes, she tries to grab his hand on her, willing her left hand to respond past the broken wrist.
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Post by thebardess on Mar 14, 2016 20:31:33 GMT -5
Steede's satisfaction at watching the cottage reduced to smithereens quickly turns to anger when he see a body thrown through the air...a body that begins to move. "Dammit!" he shouts. At least one of the agents must have found the device just a second too soon, and now there'll be hell to pay if he doesn't set this right again. Hurtling down the hill, he sees that the body is that of Clue. She's cut and scratched, her left wrist obviously broken, but she still clutches her file in the other hand. She's conscious and trying to stand up, but nevertheless still dazed and in shock. Taking advantage of this, Steede grabs her shoulder and begins pulling her back towards the woods. This can still be fixed- it might even work out better this way, because now he can get her files, see just how much information they actually have.
The woman begins to struggle, trying in vain to free herself from his grip. With an exasperated sigh, he stops and pulls his pistol out from under his shirt. Pressing it to her head, he informs her in a matter-of-fact tone "This will all go much easier for you if you just cooperate."
Clue pauses in her struggle and gazes warily at her attacker. His eyes are a steely grey, hard and cold as flint. His left hand grips her arm, strong as steel despite it's missing little finger. On his right forearm, she notices a strange tattoo- it looks like a highly stylized pair of initials. SZ, perhaps? Whatever the case, it's clear that he is a man to be reckoned with. She doesn't stand a chance against him, not in her present state. Perhaps it would be best to cooperate, at least for the moment, until it becomes clearer what he wants.
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Post by The Fixer on Mar 14, 2016 21:44:43 GMT -5
"What do you want? Who do you work for?" She says to her captor. Gun to her head, she fleetingly thinks with disgust, "again?"
Stopping the struggle long enough to notice the tattoo on his right arm. Looking at it with wary, icy eyes, blood tricking from a gash in her forehead, not caring if he responds. He's a minion for someone. An agent for the wrong side and besides the fact that he wants her dead she doesn't much care what his response will be.
Her legs each bleeding badly by now. Enough that she can see the wet trail of it on the grass, glistening in the moonlight. Her wrist is a bright, blooming, pain-filled, useless thing. She's getting very light headed. Definitely from the blood loss and the pain.
Resigning herself to the fact that even if she can somehow, miraculously get free from his grip, she stands little chance of getting away.
She glances around for something, anything to at least try to inflict some damage before she's knocked out or killed. She can see he has the file. She can't know if there's anything of value in it because half of it was strewn all over the table. Feeling the ground around her right side, she can feel small pebbles and bits of tree brush. Nothing of any substance to throw or smash with. At least it is her left wrist that is broken. Playing a lot of ball in her life she only needs her right hand and a decent sized stick to at least attempt to hurt this man. The steely grip on her shoulder, cutting off the nerves and blood supply to that arm. That and the gun to her head begin to give doubt to that being a possibility at all.
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Post by W.R. Lawrence on Mar 15, 2016 4:22:18 GMT -5
Lawrence opens an eye. It's dark out, what little he can see is backlit by the fire of the one place he called home. He can see the rubble burning, feel its heat but he can't hear anything. A high pitched tone rings in his ears. Sitting up slowly he can taste the dust in his mouth and he spits trying to clear it. As disconnected thoughts fly around the inside of his battered head, one takes hold, Clue. "Where is she? he thought." He looks through what remains of the cottage and sees her as he goes to try to yell for her he see a man with a gun in his hand and it's pointed right at her head.
The fire light glints of the elongated barrel of what Lawrence recognizes as a S&W .44 Magnum. "American." he thinks. Reaching back for the Webley, it's gone. "Damn it." he mutters to himself. Standing to unsure feet Lawrence moves around the foundation behind the man. In that moment something took over him, something old, something instinctual. Something primal. Now moving with no thought, with every inch of his body screaming, his head ringing and bleeding he moves around to the final corner. A large chunk of cottage wall blocks the agent's view and Lawrence kneels for a moment, collecting every bit of strength he can muster for what he is about to do.
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Post by thebardess on Mar 15, 2016 14:45:14 GMT -5
"What do you want? Who do you work for?" Clue asks, in an obvious ploy to stall for time. For Pete's sake, does she really think he's going to tell her?
"That's none of your concern right now," Steede says, and then stops. His naturally keen hearing has been sharpened by years of training, as well by the alchemical secrets of the SZ, and despite Lawrence's attempts at stealth, Myles has detected the faint sound of rubble shifting underfoot. "Really?" he thinks to himself. "How pathetically predictable." With a roll of his eyes and a vague sigh of annoyance, he turns, never loosening his grip on the woman's arm, and points his gun in the direction from whence came the sound. "Yes, I know you're back there," he declares. "And whatever heroics you're planning on performing, I'm fairly certain I can fire this gun squarely through your brain before you've even taken your first step. So come out now, nice and quiet, and there won't be any needlessly wasted bullets."
Lawrence doesn't move. The man must be hesitating, he must. No one could have heard his silent approach. "Oh very well, have it your way," the agent says, after a moment with no response. He points the gun back at Clue. "Perhaps I'll just go ahead and blow her brains out then, shall I?"
"No, stop!" Lawrence exclaims, stumbling out from behind the chunk of wall. "Look, I'm here, all right? Just...just don't hurt her." "Thank you," Steede says. From some unseen pocket, he produces a length of rope. A moment later, hands and feet bound, Lawrence and Clue are sitting back to back, firmly tied together. Satisfied that they aren't going anywhere, at least for the moment, Steede replaces the pistol, walks a few paces away, and makes another call on his cell phone. The agents can hear snippets of the conversation as he paces back and forth.
"Hello, Anna? Did you make that call to Vevoda yet? No, don't, not yet. There's been a complication." "No, nothing serious. No, I don't need backup!" "Of course I'll take care of it." "Hang it all, Anna, you know that if anyone can take care of loose ends, it's me! I settled that Bachman reporter, right? Not to mention Kathy Ellis." "Dammit, Anna, the misstep at Petroglyphs was not my fault, I followed the plan to the letter! Listen, this isn't anything I can't handle, all right? Come tomorrow it will all be settled, and we'll be back on track. With a bit of luck, I'll even still be able to make dinner. Just hold off on calling Vevoda for now. Right, 'til then."
Steede hangs up the phone, takes a deep breath, and walks back towards the two agents. "Right, then," he says, in his matter-of-fact tone. "I'll be taking that file, for starters."
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Post by W.R. Lawrence on Mar 15, 2016 19:02:14 GMT -5
Steede walks back over and faces Lawrence. With a look of defiance Lawrence looks right back at him. Speaking quietly Lawrence says, "So you must be the agent Vevoda calls when the others fail." Steede steps closer to Lawrence and kicks him roughly. "If you are going to speak to me, speak so I can hear you." he seethes. Coughing and wobbling a bit Lawrence continues, "You seem to know so much about us, you already know that Clue is the brains behind this thing. So what part do I play?" Steede laughs stepping one step forward and crouching down so he can look Lawrence right in the eye. "Alright, I'll humor you. What is your part in all this?" Looking back at him Lawrence says, "I'm the wild card. I'm the guy who sees the reality in front of him and refuses to accept it. You have 30 seconds to live."
Laughing loudly Steede says "And who is going to kill me you?" Coughing Lawrence says "No not me, him" nodding behind Steede. Steede turns to look behind him, and at that moment Lawrence lunges forward and hits Steede in the side of the head with a piece of rubble. Steede is stunned, the .44 falls from his grasp. Lawrence strikes him again. Blood begins to run. With Steede trying to regain his feet, Lawrence retrieves the revolver and aims down at the head of his fallen foe. Steede looks back at him with a look of shock on his face, "That's not fair!" he protests. "If you fight fair you're doing it wrong." Lawrence quips. He picks up Steed's phone and hits redial, and a female voice comes on the line. " Hello Anna?" Lawrence says cocking the hammer. "Dinner is canceled" and pulls the trigger.
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Post by W.R. Lawrence on Mar 15, 2016 19:23:01 GMT -5
Tossing the phone onto Steede's still form Lawrence looks over at Clue who sits there in shock having just witnessed his dark side. Lawrence wordlessly limps over and finishes freeing her. As he goes to stand up he realizes he spent all he had left to stop Steede. He suddenly falls to the ground and the darkness takes him again.
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