The Key and the Gate

[DeletedUser13682]

This was a quaint little place; it reminded one of the 1800s, where brother was fighting brother and naval technology was beginning its modern evolution. Submarines, ironclads, turrets; many staples of today’s world navies were developed during the time this quaint, little farmhouse was fabricated. This particular example looked like its last maintenance cycle had been a few decades past, and was in major need of a major refurbishing. Maybe they’d even let someone perform modernization on some of its systems, if it wasn’t covered by some historical accuracy law preventing necessary upkeep and improvements. Actually, the only thing that indicated that the place wasn’t abandoned was the fairly well maintained moving van out front. As Johnathan turned his truck off, two movers with an armoire egressed the house, followed by a supervisory woman in her 40s. As he got out, she waved at him. After returning the wave, Johnathan walked over to the supervisor. “Hello, there. I’m Johnathan Kingsbury. Pleased to meet you.” He offered his hand for a shake. “I’m studying the history of local farmhouses of the Civil War era. Do you mind answering a few questions about this one?”

 

[DeletedUser28032]

Zani
"Well finally" Rebecca said looking up as her friend left the office outside of which she'd been waiting; leading her towards the exit as she listened to the explanation provided "uh-huh and what exactly is this" she said suddenly plucking the piece of paper from out of Zani's hand in a manner reminiscent of high school "oh my god, Zani you hussy only you'd be able to walk into a room for a painting and walk out with a date" she said with laugh as she held out the piece of paper towards her as she continued to tease "...so tell me Zani is he dreamy?"
The rest of the afternoon went by in a rather unremarkable fashion broken up only by the intermittent teasing of her colleague regardless of what Zani said. After bidding farewell to Rebecca who managed to get in one last dig knowing full well that it would all turn round against her in the fullness of time, all that was left was her meeting at the hotel.
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Jonathan
"Sure not at all, Tony are you alright with the rest of it whilst I speak with this gentleman?" the woman called over to the removal men. The larger of the two; presumably Tony giving her a brief thumbs up before returning to work with what looked like relief over being left alone.
Satisfied that the removal men wouldn't destroy anything for the next couple of minutes at least the woman once again smiles warmly at Jonathan "If you will follow me Mr Kingsbury" she said before leading him into the house.
Passing through an already empty hallway with only dark patches on the walls where once paintings or possibly even photographs had once hung, she leads him into what had been the sitting room and although most of the furniture had already been packed away the sofa was still thankfully present providing them with somewhere to sit at least "Can I get you anything to drink? Most of the kitchen has been packed away but I am sure I could find you something" she said listening to his answer before then introducing herself "oh my name is Jacqueline Fine by the way, but please call me Jackie everyone else does"

 

[DeletedUser31931]

As Boris pulled up to The Sunset Motel, he wondered how exactly he'd ended up in this situation. Who was this Dmitri and why had he given Cynthia Boris' phone number as opposed to his own and how did this Lily woman factor into the equation? Was she responsible for the switch? What sort of situation was Cynthia even in? This made no sense. As he got off his bike he politely refused the person who offered to watch his bike (he had no idea who was who here and he'd rather not tick off someone important) before he produced several industrial grade chains and padlocks from a small box on the back of his bike. He chained the wheels together and to the bike and then the bike a nearby wall. It didn't look expensive enough that someone would go to the bother of stealing it if it was worth that much effort, the chains providing enough resistance to mean that you would have to get stronger than usual bolt cutters for the job. He checked Cynthia's room number and then walked up to her room. Reaching into his jacket with one hand he silently pulled out the Five-seven, the safety was built into the trigger mechanism on this model so he didn't have to worry about that. He checked the crack at the side of the door to see if it was locked and then silently lifted up the keyhole and attempted to look through to see if he could get a firm grasp of the situation before entering the room, all the while keeping his Five-seven both concealed and ready for use.

 

[DeletedUser13682]

This was easier than Johnathan expected. Sure, there were times when he had to make up stories on the spot to get out of some situation or another, but this woman seemed fairly smart. Sure it was a simple cover story, but it shouldn’t be that easy to get into a house. Why was this working so well? Oh well; might as well roll with it while it lasted. As the woman let Johnathan into her house, he nodded his head towards the movers and entered. The house was as rustic inside as outside, showing that the law of classic looks over modern safety won out on interiors as well as exteriors. The inside was bare of adornments, as was expected of a house that was being moved out of, but looking here and there, one could see a few things that had managed to remain this long, and may actually be forgotten by their owner. “Very pretty house here,” Johnathan said, attempting to make small talk as they made their way to the sitting room. It wasn’t very successful, but she did start talking once they arrived at the sitting room, lacking everything but a couch. “I’m fine, thank you though,” Johnathan replied, as he leaned against the back of the couch. After his response, she revealed her name to be Jacqueline Fine. Johnathan resisted the urge to stumble from his position. Unfortunately, his mind took a few embarrassing moments to remember that names could be passed down generations. Sure, it was a practice he personally abhorred, but it was still fairly common. “Pleased to meet you, Jackie,” Johnathan finally managed to get out, putting on a smile before getting out a notebook he had never gotten out of the habit of carrying. “If you wouldn’t mind, could you start at the beginning of this house’s history? Who built it, and people who owned it over the years?”

 

[DeletedUser28032]

Boris
After climbing a set of stairs with the unmistakable stench of urine Boris found the door he was looking for in amongst a line of identically dull and grimy doors; the brass numbers all having seen far better days.
It was just as well that Boris had kept his gun hidden as no sooner had he approached the door that it opened to reveal a rather startled looking police officer “Can I help you sir?” he asks in a voice that suspected that Boris was just another chancer.
Looking past the tall blue uniformed man Boris would get a view of a room that looked like it belonged in a cop movie. The room was littered with dirty clothes and empty food packages and one of the walls was covered in newspaper clippings and hand drawn sketches linked together with lengths of wool like some maniacs collage.
However it was the other police officer currently stood in front of a closed door that dominated the scene; the man clearly getting annoyed by the tone of voice he used to speak with whoever was on the other side “Open the door Miss Swann, I won’t ask you again, now open the door or I will be forced to break it down” meanwhile whilst all this was going on the first police officer was still waiting for an answer.

Jonathan
“Gosh that’s a long story…Well the original house was built by an English merchant up until the revolution when it was bought by Captain George Fine who’d served in the continental army, though I am afraid there isn’t much of the original building left…just the chapel and the remains of a windmill; the rest of it burnt down some time before the civil war” she said waving her hand vaguely to indicate that she didn’t really know any details about the fire “…the house was re-built and after serving a brief stint as an army hospital returned our family though I am pretty certain there is only one family member you wish to talk about” the woman raised a single accusatory eyebrow that said she knew he was up to something and wasn’t going to let him get away with it “ I saw the way you reacted when you heard my name so tell me what is it you’d like to know about my Grandmother? Oh and make it quick because I will not be hounded like my poor mother was and the sooner this house is sold the better”

 

[DeletedUser13682]

Well, it appeared that Johnathan had accidentally let the bag out of the box, or cat out of the curiosity. Whatever it was, Johnathan had let slip his real reason for being here, and had inadvertently caused an angry pall over the conversation. But that bit about her mother being hounded was an interesting addition. What was Jackie’s mother hounded about? And why was she trying to sell this house so quickly? “Well, I may have heard of your grandmother, actually, I found her book of dreams. Uh… I think I have it with me here.” Johnathan felt around in his pockets, but wasn’t able to find it. “Oh well; guess I left it in my truck.” Johnathan shrugged and returned to his notebook. “But it was a copy of Dissertation on the Dreamlands. Some pretty interesting things in there.” Johnathan shrugged again and tried to lighten the mood a bit. “Say, you’re not trying to get rid of this house because there’s a strange glow coming from the well, are you?” he asked with a chuckle.

 

[Deleted User - 819397]

Zani couldn't help but flinch when Rebecca pulled the piece of paper out of her hand, teasing her about her 'date'. Her repeated denials that there was nothing going on, that she'd been given it without any input from her (perfectly true) fell on deaf ears. In retrospect, it was probably a good idea that someone knew where she was going, so that if something happened that she couldn't get out of herself someone could give the police leads. She finally gave up on convincing her coworker of her innocence in all this, inwardly plotting revenge ten times over for this stubborn refusal to listen to facts.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, with the exception of the occasional jab from Rebecca. Before Zani knew it, it was time to go to this meeting…assuming of course she was going to. Despite her safety-minded hesitancy, she found herself driving towards the hotel. She had her taser, Rebecca would know where she'd been if something went horribly wrong…and he had seemed honest enough… These types of thoughts kept her occupied until she found herself outside the room written on the paper. Steeling herself for what could very well be a trap, she knocked on the door.

 

[DeletedUser28032]

Jonathan
“No, nothing as exciting as that” Jackie replied, rolling her eyes at the rather poor joke “...my mother recently passed away and this is the last piece of her estate, I never really like the place it always felt...creepy...especially that old graveyard. No I just want it gone before the loony fringe realise that there’s another Fine woman to pester with their bonkers questions” she explained; sounding more weary than angry now “so go on ask your bonkers questions and I’ll answer them, but before we start. No I am not my grandmother and nor am I her reincarnation” she said jokingly if obviously tired of having to answer those particular questions “...I suppose you’d also like to see the other book she wrote too”
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Zani
“Just a minute!” a voice called through the door followed by the sound of somebody hurriedly getting changed; the door opening moments later to reveal the artist “Oh it’s you Zani, I thought you was room service come inside” he said opening the door so that she could enter the small but comfortable hotel room “you know I wasn’t sure if you would actually show up, it was only after you left that I realised how terribly forward of me it was to invite a young lady I hardly knew back to my hotel room...for the record I really do only wish to help you and have a rather lovely fiancée back home” he said speaking amiably as he closed the door behind her; quietly hoping that his explanation would put her at ease.
Once Zani had made herself comfortable upon either the single chair or bed, he started rifling through his bags in search of something before finally producing a small and rather tatty note book which he handed to Zani “Here you are it’s not the clearest or easiest of reads but does explain a fair amount...from what I can remember there is a world located... somewhere...I never really understood where exactly, that certain people can access when they go to sleep, though there is also some kind of ritual that allows you to do it at anytime, however the bit I was more interested in was how to stop yourself from going there...now what you need to do is...” it was at this point that there was another knock on the door causing the artist to stop his explanation mid-sentence “ah that must be room service, I ordered a pot of tea and a bite to eat should be enough to go round if you’d like some” he said as he walked over to answer the door.
It was at this point that things started to happen at a confusingly fast pace for no sooner had he begun to open the door that two men dressed in suits and hats that gave them the appearance of 1920’s gangsters barged their way into the room; kicking the door shut behind them. With one of the men pointing a pistol with silencer at Zani; an antique pocket watch ticking away loudly in his other hand. Zani was powerless to stop the other man from stabbing the artist with what appeared to be a slim bladed kitchen knife. The men’s faces were cold and impassive as they went about their murderous work, the look on the gunman’s face saying that if she moved an inch he wouldn’t hesitate to kill her.
With the artist dead with multiple stab wounds covering his torso the knife man turned his attention to Zani, striding over to her and forcing the bloodstained knife into her hand and curling her fingers around its handle before then smearing the blood covering his gloved hands across her face and blouse with any form or resistance from her resulting in a slap to the face. All the while the other mans watch continued to tick loudly “We have you now Jain Far-strider” the man with the watch said in a low hissing voice “...we have you, we have Lilly and we have Cynthia and soon Jacob and Dmitri will be dead...this time the master will triumph” a smile slowly spread across the man’s face revealing a set of small pointed teeth. Snapping the watch closed the men both turned to leave the room “go on Jain...scream, call the police all they will find is a mad woman standing over her dead lover, goodbye Jain you won’t beat us this time” and with that the men left, leaving her in a murdered man’s hotel room covered in his blood and holding a knife. Tonight wasn’t going to be a good night.

 

[DeletedUser13682]

Johnathan internally frowned at Jackie’s lack of response at his joke. Well, guess you can’t entertain everybody; at least his boats thought he was funny. Of course, there had to be a creepy graveyard. It was understandable; many of the graveyards of the world had a very bad feeling around them. Course, Johnathan and some of his friends had taken part in quite a few graveyard adventures during his high school years. They never really affected him as they did normal people. “Well, I wouldn’t mind looking at that graveyard. No Warrens buried there, or some ancient stone passageway there, right?” Given the success (or lack thereof) of his last attempt, Johnathan had no choice but to make another attempt. Everyone knew that old saying about trying again. Johnathan actually let loose a frown at the accusation that he was bonkers. He wasn’t in the least bit bonkers; a bit strange, yes, but not bonkers. “I’m not part of some loony fringe,” he replied, frown increasing momentarily before returning to his original face. “Just found your grandmother’s book in the library. I’m a fan of Lovecraft and I have a questioning attitude. Just trying to get into her mind; figure out how she got into Lovecraft’s…” Wait, there was another book. There was another book. There was always another book. Why was there always another book? “Uh… yeah! I didn’t know there was another book. Same subject, I presume?”

 

[Deleted User - 819397]

The artist seemed to be aware that Zani was ill at ease, and attempted to ease her concerns, more or less succeeding. His personality hadn't changed, and that was the biggest thing. After sitting upon the proffered chair, she watched as the man attempted to find the folder of information on this dream world they could both reach, eventually finding it. He'd just handed it to her when the door knocked, and he mentioned that his room service should serve two if she wanted. She'd just opened her mouth to decline when things went south incredibly fast. Two men in suits burst in, one holding a gun to her head while the other stabbed the artist to death. "Oh, gods, what's going on, what do you want?" she asked, plainly scared to death. The one holding a gun to her head also held an old style pocket watch for some reason, though she didn't particularly care at the moment.

The knife wielder finished with the artist and turned towards Zani. "Oh gods please no, please I didn't do anything, I swear I didn't please, no…" she gibbered, convinced she was the next on the hit list. Instead, she found the knife forced into her hand and the artist's blood smeared across her on various places. They then told her, or rather Jain, that there was no escape, they had others in equal amounts of trouble, and that 'the rest' would follow. "I'm not Jain, I swear I'm not, please, why?" she managed through her terror and sobs, tears finding their way out of her at this point. Her questions were met with silence, and she was alone. The first thing she did was drop the knife. They'd framed her…and she didn't have any way to prove they'd been there…they'd worn gloves, the gun had never been fired…she was in big trouble, and she knew it. She needed to do something…but what? What could she do? Her mind wasn't working right after seeing that…

Without quite knowing how, Zani found herself calling Rebecca's phone, needing to hear someone say it would be ok. When her coworker picked up, Zani broke out into fresh sobs at the familiar voice. "I…I'm in trouble…the artist had some information I wanted, that's why he gave me his hotel room…he's dead…I watched them kill him, and they made it look like I did it. I need your help…I don't know what to do…please…" As she gibbered her message out, she found her eyes locked on the body of the dead man. How the blood still oozed from his cuts, how it pooled on the floor, the carpet soaking it up in an increasing line…how had it felt, she found herself wondering…had he suffered? He must have…he'd been stabbed multiple times, the first one clearly hadn't killed him…which wound had? Or had he simply bled out? She attempted to think back to when he'd fallen, but found herself unable to manage it…her fear for her own life overrode her memory of him at that time…

 

[DeletedUser31931]

Boris was slightly off-put by the smell as he climbed the smell but he'd certainly dealt with worse. Two police officers and both armed, one staring straight at him and the gun slid back into it's holster. As the officer asked for his identity the second officer addressed a "Ms. Swann" who Boris assumed must be the Cynthia that had called him. Deciding that he should probably give the first officer an answer before he got suspicious he began to speak as he pulled out his wallet. "Name's Boris Stein. Ex-military and currently working for a PMC. There's my ID." He handed the officer his service card which acted which stated which regiment he'd served in (though it failed to mention his stint in the Special Forces) and what tours of duty he had been on. It also stated that he had been honourably discharged from the force after over ten years of service. He also included his ID for his currently PMC company, a small firm that mostly covered military events and weapons tech facilities. It wasn't an interesting job the majority of the time but it paid well, what with him being paid for his ability should things go wrong rather than his duties on a day to day basis.

"As for what I'm doing here officer, I was awoken by a woman calling my phone who I have no recollection of meeting. She gave me this address and told me she was in some form of trouble. Therefore, I would reason that she is the woman who is currently locked in that bathroom. Since your other officer appears to be getting nowhere with his line of enquiry and I doubt that the motel owner would rather you kick in their doors why not let me talk to her? Perhaps I can figure out what is going on with this entire situation."

 

[DeletedUser37114]

Nia didn't really like going out to places (too cold, too warm, too bright, too dark, all sorts of problems). Still, this was important for her and John and part of work, so she could be a big girl and go somewhere new for an evening if she needed to (and her dress had been complaining for months now that it didn't get out enough). The drive was almost pleasant, John being a pretty good driver (she was fairly surprised, she thought of him being too unfocused and nervous), and she only spent about half to ride with her eyes closed while her key tried its best to reassure her. Her shoes helped too (the dressy ones that she wore sometimes just because they were full of love and happy memories), making sure that they arrived without incident. She'd never actually been inside Silvio's, being the sort of place that she avoided religiously (cold, bright, lots of people in fancy clothes that screamed discomfort) and she was actually a little curious to see the inside. Once they'd passed the entrance, Nia let John handle the fancy man who came to make sure they belonged there an examined her surroundings (grand and bright and really, really space inefficient and kinda cold). She then followed John, who followed the fancy man into the main eating area (a place that she'd describe with words like elegant and chic if it weren't even colder than the entryway), where they sat at a booth with the other side empty and informed that their employer would be late, then asked if they'd like anything. It was rude of their employer to be late like that, but she really wasn't going to complain (what was the point in complaining if the person she needed to get the message to wasn't even here?), ordering water with no ice in a few terse words, then returning to examining her surroundings.

 

[DeletedUser28032]

Boris
“Sir, I apologise for any trouble Miss Swann may have caused you, but this is a police matter and so I must ask you to...”
“For Christ’s sake Harry If it gets her out of this damn bathroom and back into Greenwoods then let him talk to her!” the other police officer shouted in frustration; cutting off the polite but firm request that he leave. The first police officer; Harry from what his colleague had said seemed to hesitate for several seconds before reluctantly relenting “Fine...see if you can talk her into leaving the bathroom, whatever you do, do not enter the bathroom, Miss Swann seriously injured an orderly in order to abscond from the psychiatric facility in which she’d been staying” he said issuing the warning in a low voice so that it didn’t carry to the person currently hiding behind the locked door.
As the first police officer stepped aside so that he could enter the other moved away from the bathroom door so that he could have the illusion of privacy; his hand resting upon the large Browning on his hip “Make it quick, oh and don’t try anything foolish or we’ll do you for aiding and abetting, understood?” with his piece said he went to stand beside his colleague and await miss Swann’s arrival.
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Zani
“What!? Zani if this is some kind of a joke it isn’t a very funny one!” Rebecca spoke down the phone clearly hoping that her friend would suddenly burst out laughing at that this was just some sick joke. However as the sobbing continued she came to the horrifying conclusion that her friend was telling the truth “My god Zani you need to call the police! You need to tell them what’s happened! You…” Rebecca’s voice suddenly stopped. In the street below her Zani could hear the sound of police sirens screaming into the night as they drew ever closer “Zani…” Rebecca’s voice spoke; suddenly returning after such long absence, her tone clearly terrified by something “…your on the news…how can you be on the news? Zani something’s not right…I…I think you need to run”
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Nia
“I’ll have a Coors please” John said after Nia had ordered her water, though in truth he wished for something a lot stronger than the light beer but knew it wouldn’t look good to be drunk when their client finally arrived.
As the waiter disappeared to fetch their drinks John turned to look at Nia before asking in a low voice “Are you ok? You seem a little tense” he’d noticed that she’d spent a large portion of the trip here turning that key of hers around fingers and wondered if it was some kind of coping mechanism. Part of him wanted to ask her about that key and why she wore it about her neck all the time whilst meanwhile another part simply said don’t go there.
The waiter returned a few moments later with their drinks and then a few minutes after that a tall bald headed man that vaguely reminded John of Telly Savalas walked into the room dressed in an expensive looking suit and fedora carrying an equally expensive looking briefcase “Apologies for my late arrival…the traffic…” he said ending the statement with a single hand gesture as if to say you know how it is “My name Salvatore De’Ath” he continued; speaking in a quiet, whispering voice with an accent that John was finding hard to place…Italian perhaps? no…it didn’t sound quite right for Italian…it was definitely European though or at least he thought it was “…ah and you must be the talented young Miss Kyu I have heard so much about, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you” he said with a smile that was a little too reminiscent of the men she’d seen earlier in the day to be comfortable.
Taking a seat opposite them, the dark suited man removes his hat and places it on the seat beside him before then briefly checking an antique pocket watch “Now would either of you like to order something to eat or shall we get straight down to business?”
--------------------------------
Jonathan
“Sorry…just the family mausoleum of the British family that lived here before us, the rest of it is just old headstones and the remains of a chapel” she said almost apologetically about the lack of a creepy underground crypt; a small smile touching her lips in response to his joke.
At the mention of her grandmothers being similar to the works of H.P Lovecraft she lets out a short laugh before replying “I’ve always liked to believe that it was the other way around, her book predates much of his Cthullu mythos and yes the other book runs pretty much along the same themes as the other one only not quite as coherent leaving me to believe that she never got around to putting it into a proper order or she was losing her marbles, the poor thing” she said with a sympathetic smile “now if you’ll just bear with me I’ll see if I can find it for you, someone may as well read it” she said before getting up and leaving the room.
A good ten minutes later she returned with a sheaf of yellowing type written papers covered with hand written notes and amendments “there you go, I am afraid it isn’t in the best of conditions but I hope it is of some interest to you…now I’d best leave you to continue the packing, but feel free to take a look around the house and its grounds…maybe you’ll find that Shoggoth you’re looking for”

 

[DeletedUser37114]

It wasn't as if there was something wrong with a place as cold as this (some places were just off, in the same way as a picture frame tilted slightly from level, but most folks could pick up on that), but Nia still felt uneasy. Her key wasn't real comfortable here either and despite her wonderful dress humming contentedly around her (some sort of waltz, but she wasn't that familiar with dance music), she couldn't relax. Even John picked up on it (which was a serious sign that she was looking pretty uncomfortable), asking if she was okay, to which she replied with a quickly muttered, "Cold." She sipped her drink quietly after the waiter returned, rubbing her arms for warmth (despite the room being a nice temperature already), and tried to calm down since she'd have to talk at least a little with this client (John couldn't handle everything, after all). Succeeding in losing herself a little bit in the drone of polite conversations around them (mostly empty noise, but there was almost a pattern to it if she just listened a little har-), she didn't notice that they had company until the man was there and apologizing for his lateness and introducing himself and going through the usual pleasant-.

Nia's thoughts stopped cold as he smiled, and like the men who followed her before, cold deep water filled with sharks sprang to mind. Maybe it was her imagination, especially considering her freak-out earlier, but this man was far too much like the others for her to be at all comfortable or happy or at the same table as him. Narrowing her eyes, she thought through her options (three of them, of course). One: she could go on as if nothing was wrong (which of course would be a lie and might never uncover anything, but her employer would probably be quite fine with that, though she wouldn't). Two: she would stand up and leave the table (and John, as well as a very challenging job, which would mean she'd have two unhappy men here with her and nobody really wanted that). Three: ..."Were those your men?" she asked quietly (wait, maybe she should have considered her options before going with her third one immediately, too late now). Sharing words with a man like this was quite uncomfortable, like rubbing up against a fish with slimy course-grit sandpaper attached to its scales (an odd simile, though the best she could come up with on the fly), but silence wasn't going to get any answers. "Library and Coffee shop?" She looked up at the man's face, staring him in the eyes to see if he had any reaction to her questions (if he knew what she was talking about, then perhaps this clammy, uncomfortable conversation could be over).

 

[DeletedUser13682]

Unfortunately, there was nothing down there in the cemetery that could bring forth the denizens of other, strange dimensions, bent on conquering this planet and enslaving or exterminating its inhabitants. But, there was something else that would satiate Johnathan’s thirst for knowledge and adventure. As Jackie fetched the sequel to the dream journal that had been uncovered in the library, Johnathan walked around the room, looking at what few things were remaining in the room. Johnathan was messing with the paw of a lucky cat when Jackie returned with a stack of yellowed paper covered in a messy combination of typewritten and handwritten script. It hadn’t been very well maintained, the edges were frayed and some of the pages appeared to have water (or maybe some other sort of liquid) damage. Hopefully nothing was unreadable; even if it all way, it would probably be prudent to transfer them to a more permanent medium before they fell apart completely. “Thank you very much, Jackie,” Johnathan said, as he received the bundle of papers and tucked them under one arm. “I think I’ll just stop by the cemetery, pay my respects to those brave men and women who twice tried to take our freedom. It’s ok, we’re buddies with them now.” Johnathan let loose one last smile before he pulled out his keychain. It was a simple thing, containing only a house key, a key for both his cars, a remote for the Tacoma and that lucky key that prevented him from losing the rest of his keys. After a press of the unlock button didn’t give the desired chirp, Johnathan held the remote to his head and pressed the button again. That resulted in the chirp he was looking for, and headed to the truck. “Thank you for your time,” he said before he left. “Sorry for the bit of deception there. I’ll try and make it up to you.” After Johnathan dropped off the manuscript in the Taco, he headed to the cemetery to see if anyone he’d heard of was buried there.

 

[DeletedUser31931]

Boris nodded as the second officer agreed to his help. His own personal reasons were that he wanted to see Cynthia and to find out the cause of this mess. He was tempted to hand over his Five Seven as a show of good faith but a voice in the back of his head told him that he might be better off holding onto it for now. When he made his comment about aiding and abetting Boris laughed and, for a second or so, his Russian side showed through in how he laughed, "Officer, considering my history I think that aiding and abetting should be low on your list of worries. The pistol is noted though." Boris turned serious as he looked at the door, he wasn't exactly looking forward to talking to a woman who knew him well despite them having never met who had apparently broken out of a mental asylum. "Hello sestra. You haven't told me the full truth, have you? If you had I'd know why you have policemen about to kick down your door. I don't know who you are or what happened to you but I won't and can't be a part of this. If you wanted me to be so you should have told me the truth. It's not too late to do that. Tell me the truth. To my face. Open that door and let me know why you really called me, who you really are and what you really want. Otherwise I will turn round and walk out of that motel door, go to my job and not look back. Your call sestra." Boris mouthed at the policemen "Trust me" and awaited his response and, hopefully, the truth.

(OOC: Sestra is Russian for sister)

 

[Deleted User - 819397]

Rebecca's initial reaction to Zani's story was one of disbelief. Normally she'd be fine with this reaction, and would have done the same in her coworker's place…however, being on the other end of the issue and trying hard to remain rational, she didn't appreciate it. Fortunately, the fact she didn't burst out laughing convinced the blonde that this was indeed serious. The suggestion to call the police was cut short as sirens became audible, and the stunned Rebecca informing Zani that she was already on the news. "I…how can I…no one's even BEEN here since it…Rebecca…I…I can't…" She went on like this for a bit, then managed to pull herself together somewhat. "If…if you find out anything about why…why this is happening to me…please let me know…I…I'll try to…come back to work soon…I…I'm sorry…goodbye, Rebecca." The knowledge that her life may have been unraveled beyond a redeemable point incapacitated her momentarily, but the pressing concern of the sirens forced her into action.

As Zani made to leave, she looked back at the knife she'd dropped. She'd read enough crime novels to know that both taking and leaving the murder weapon came with repercussions. However, seeing as her fingerprints had been forcibly left on the handle, leaving it would damn her for sure. So deciding, she scooped it up along with the folder the artist had died giving her. At the door she turned and looked at his body again, murmuring, "I'm sorry…" as she departed. Her plan was to leave via a rear exit, following the signs to do so. Once out, she'd see if she could use her car to evacuate the area, or if it would be too late to do so already. Her mix of horror for her situation and determination to NOT be imprisoned for the crime she'd not done flowed through her, spurring her on…she WOULD fix this, and she WOULD be able to work alongside Rebecca and the others again.

 

[DeletedUser28032]

Boris
“I haven’t lied to you!” the woman beyond the door responded through gritted teeth, clearly upset over Boris’ doubts “...I am in trouble, I do need your help, and you are involved as you are here Dorogoy and it’s far too late for you to get out of this” she continued; throwing the Russian word for Darling back at him like an insult. For several moments there was nothing but the sound of her breathing coming from the other side of the door before she finally uttered a mournful sigh “oh so hope I am right about you, it was only glimpse but I was so certain that you were him...you'd also better hope that I am right about you too because Dmitri was very handy with a gun and those men aren’t policemen” no sooner had the words left her mouth that the sound of two automatic pistols being drawn and chambered could be heard coming from behind him.
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Zani
Following the signs for the exit Zani had managed to get as far the lobby; a bank of lifts and a set of stairs facing her when she heard the ear piercing scream of the cleaner she caught sight of the bloodstained woman in front of her. Whether the cleaner; a young Latino girl dressed in the standard cleaners outfit thought Zani was horribly wounded or some kind of psychotic killer wasn’t clear but either way would attract far too much attention. All the while the sound of sirens grew ever louder meaning that the police, who seemingly already knew she was “guilty” of murder would be here any minute now.
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Nia
As Nia voiced her accusation two things happened nearly simultaneously; John choked on his beer in shock and Mr De’Ath simply looked puzzled “hmm...no, I think you must have me confused with someone else, the only people who directly work for me are my accountant and a rather attractive secretary and trust me you’d know if she was following you” he said with chuckle “you’ll have to forgive Nia she has these strange...moments...on occasions” John spoke up nervously, obviously trying to cover up her question; the look he gave her as he did so practically screaming in panic What are you doing!?
“It’s alright, I would be surprised if an obvious genius as Miss Kyu here didn’t have the odd quirk” he said with an understanding smile on his face; all of his previous shark like qualities seemingly vanishing in an instant so that Nia found herself simply looking at just an ordinary man with an albeit creepy name “now the reason I asked to meet with the pair of you is because I’ve recently acquired a rather interesting item” he said pulling a tablet from out of his briefcase and placing it upon the table so that both John and Nia could see.
On the screen there was a photograph of what had to be one of the strangest things John had ever seen. The item looked vaguely like an old electric typewriter but it was all brass gears and cogs and old fashioned glass valves and gauges. It was clearly still a work in progress after having received some considerable damage but either way it was a thing of beauty and was like nothing they had ever seen before “my god...what is it?” John asked in astonishment as he gazed at them picture before him “we’re not entirely sure, all we do know is that it is very old and was very nearly destroyed during the war...however I believe it is this next picture that will really capture your attention” flicking his finger across the screen the pair were then presented with what could only be a screen print. The code was completely out of this world.
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Jonathan
“Oh that’s quite alright, no harm was done” Jackie replied cheerfully before providing him with directions to the cemetery.
Walking down a narrow gravel path that weaved its way down a slight downwards slope and through a small copse of trees Jonathan found himself looking at a small graveyard that would have looked right at home in a Steven King novel.
There was a low moss covered stone wall circling the patch of overgrown land with the stone edifice of the family mausoleum taking centre stage; the only part of the cemetery seemingly not affected by the ravages of time. Surrounding the mausoleum in neat rows were around a dozen headstones with the ruin of the old family chapel sat in the far corner. The small single room building where once the British and perhaps even American owners of the property had gathered on Sunday morning was now overgrown with weeds and missing its roof, woodwork and glass making it fit for nothing but housing the local wildlife.
The mausoleum meanwhile had fared far better. Built out of imported stone it made for a grand sight with the family’s name and coat of arms engraved over the door; guarded by a pair of weatherworn angels. Its large wrought iron gate was securely locked by an old but strong padlock and chain that would require cutting if Jonathan had any desire to enter though judging from the plasticard sign cable tied to gate that declared it a derelict structure that mustn’t be entered by unauthorised persons, perhaps that was for the best.
The headstones meanwhile were...well...headstones, some old, some very old and all much neglected although someone had cut the grass at some point this year. He found the grave of the first Jacqueline Fine next to that of her husband’s along several other members of the Fine family and those dating back to if not directly belonging to the British family. It was the grave of a Dr. Jacob Stone however that caught his attention for although he had died sometime in the late 1800’s; a period where the Fine family was back in residence he didn’t seem to belong the family or any family within the tiny cemetery with his headstone merely stating his name, date of birth and date of death, no in loving memory, no husband of, just a plain headstone with his name upon it. It was almost like he was trying to hide.

 

[DeletedUser31931]

As Cynthia finished speaking time appeared to slow for Boris as realisation dawned upon him. His mind flashed back to the two "policemen" and he began to notice details that had been out of place. Now... Today, it seemed, was the day. His lucky key felt cold upon his wrist. He'd known that it would bring trouble one day and he had prepared for it. This Cynthia and these "policemen". He should have seen the signs... He made the decision, these men were not going to spare him any quarter and so neither would he. His mind raced through possible options, the tactical ability of a soldier who had been sent to the SAS as part of a US/UK military exchange kicking into gear. At this point drawing would be too slow so that left hand to hand. He still had his ID card in his hand from when he'd shown it to Harry. A split second after this whole thought process had begun Boris sprung into action. He moved back from where he'd lent into the door, ducking as he did so. His ID card flew out of his hand and into Harry's face as a crouching Boris hit Not Harry in the chest, simultaneously winding him and sending his gun flying upwards. Boris' fist followed round and smashed into the man's jaw, sending him stumbling into his partner as both of them were sent flying by the six foot hulking mass of muscle. As Not Harry fell to the floor (no ordinary human was remaining conscious after a blow like that) Boris moved over and tossed Harry's gun to one side before standing up, pulling his Five Seven on the man as he did so and demanding "Who the" at this point Boris used several Russian words that would have made his mother faint had she ever bothered to learn Russian from his father "are you? Answer me and don't you dare make one move whilst doing so because I'll sooner put a bullet through your skull. No policeman would act like that and more importantly no policeman I know carries that model of Browning." The police had had standard issue weaponry introduced recently in an attempt to restore public faith after incidents such as Fergustown. The weapon bad felt wrong since he'd entered the room but it had taken until now to make the connection.

 

[DeletedUser37114]

As the man deflected her question with ease, Nia relaxed a little (and some of the chill went away for some reason). There was something to the resemblance between him and the men she'd been followed by (more so than could be explained by coincidence), but now wasn't the time to ask questions about that, possibly since the man didn't know any more than she did (it could be that those were family members of his following people he hired...). He also didn't take offense to her question (which was good, because the job he had for John and her was very interesting). On the tablet he slid out of his briefcase (a hostile little thing that Nia didn't especially want to touch if she didn't have to), he showed them an odd machine, something like out of a steampunk or clockwork tech drawing.

She briefly heard John ask what it was (she was more interested in figuring that out for herself, though she wasn't making any progress from the picture), followed by their employer (they HAD to take this job) mentioning that it had been damaged in a war, to which she asked a muttered, "Which war?" (that was important, time period would help them figure out the thing's purpose) before the man swiped to the next picture and Nia lost track of her train of thought. The print (filled with indecipherable script, though there had to be a pattern there, too regular otherwise)... this was (something odd, definitely not the work of any nation or company she'd heard of)... wasn't (assembly level, high level, alphanumeric, Roman, Cyrillic...)... This had to be the reason that their employer had sought them out (Arabic, Hiragana, Katakana, Hanzi...). The code in front of her bore no resemblance whatsoever to anything she'd ever seen or heard of (Elvish, Dwarven, Klingon, Morse...). Looking up at their employer, she choked out, "What... is this? Where...? When...?"