Do you bring a Cleaver to a Gun Fight?

“What the Hell do you want, Garber?” Morena barked. Considering that the thug in question had a gun pointed at her, Nick was stunned at her indignant tone.

The thug waved the pistol while his charming companion practiced squeezing the bouncer’s throat with his cowboy boot. “Don’t play dumb, bitch. Your uncle was an old-timer and got by but you, you’re all sorts of wrong, trying to keep my associates from conducting their business here and abouts. That’s un-American.”

Nick saw how Morena’s knuckles turned white as she held the edge of the bar. Her face turned completely calm, though, eyes went flat, with no emotion. That didn’t seem at all good.

“This will be your last warning. Get out and never come back,” she spoke, quietly, controlled.

Garber laughed, turned to his companion to mock her. It would be his first, albeit not last mistake.

Morena flipped over the bar, black leather stiletto boot flying in the air catching Garber directly in the face, even as he swung back to her.

Nick used his five seconds of martial arts training and threw his beer mug at the other guy, who stumbled back for a second. It was all Husky needed to grab his leg and twist. The guy screamed in high octave.

The bullet hitting the bar two breaths from his shoulder brought Nick’s attention back to Morena. She had grabbed Garber’s arm and twisted his wrist so the gun finally fell away. A chop to the throat and a knee to the groin and he was moaning on the floor.

Sudden movement behind her caught Nick’s eye just as something hard hit him from behind. Apparently, these guys had the local riffraff on retainer. Two former patrons sprang behind Morena just as some guy dressed like a chef stepped from a back room brandishing a meat cleaver. The other guy driving into Nick, he didn’t know where he’d come from so Nick just fell forward, letting the guy’s momentum cause him to crash into the bar headfirst. He wanted to check that the guy was down but the meat cleaver coming at him commanded attention and Nick couldn’t keep his eyes off it. Was that a Messermeister?

Nick turned in Morena’s direction, hoping he could maybe grab another stein from the bar.

In three efficient, effortless, and beautiful moves that probably had sacred names like “Slippery Serpent,” “Tiger Claw,” and “Monkey Nuts,” she escaped one attacker and leveled him.

While Nick was transfixed, she turned toward the second attacker, dark hair sweeping back in super slow motion, and just as he thought the guy was going to bull rush her, she grabbed the man’s shoulders and let his forward progress help her knee slam even harder into his solar plexus and he dropped like a laundry bag. A smelly, stinky laundry bag even a mother wouldn’t touch. She turned her gaze on Nick and their eyes locked.

He was enjoying a moment of strange erotic euphoria when steel pricked his skin. Oh yeah. That.

“I’ll cut you up, noodle boy.”

Morena, looking more than an Amazon goddess than any video game would ever capture, froze. Her lip curled menacingly. She leaned forward, looking like she’d twisted an ankle, hand going down to her boot.

“Fuckin’ Frank.”

“Now, darlin’, I know that blue blood ex-government agent in you won’t let an innocent bystander die for something simple like this.”

Nick wanted to be staring at Morena, but there was a small matter of a shiny, hard piece of stamped steel cutlery touching the back of his neck. He’d never been very good with aggression, the very reason why he’d kept to the kitchen instead of the alleys with the other boys. He’d done enough to get by and talked himself out of most disagreements before things turned physical. And being able to bring a bowl of udon as apology for whatever imagined offense didn’t hurt his charm.

It was because of all those hours honing his craft in his family’s restaurant that Nick knew the weight and balance of a meat cleaver, no matter how sharp, would require a good swing to do any real damage. So he closed his eyes as the metal prick fell away, sank forward a little, and sucked in his breath before readying himself to make the dumbest move of his life.

Bang. Thud. Clatter.

He opened his eyes and Fuckin’ Frank lay in a heap on the floor, his cleaver next to him. He had blood starting to pool just below his shoulder.

Morena stepped over Garber and picked up his gun while holding her small pistol ready. As he looked up at her, holding his wrist, she kicked him unconscious with her shiny boot. She put the safety on the gun, checked it, and then put it in her waistband before tossing him a look.

It was almost with a feral grin that she said, “Class is over.”

Nick swore then and there, he was in love.

“Fat lot of help you were.”

Or maybe just lust.

“I ducked.”

She kneeled down to help Husky, got him sitting up. Nick was thankful; she seemed not to have heard the first post-adrenaline thing that had popped out of his dazed mind. When she got Husky into a chair, a police officer came running in, took ten seconds assessing the situation, and then shook his head. “Ah, Morena, I’ll call it in.”

Nick touched the back of his neck where the skin had been sliced open. It was bleeding a lot more than he expected. He put a hand on the bar and sank back onto the bar stool. Another cop filed in and Morena wasted no time handing him Garber’s gun and pointing to him on the floor. She then handed over her small pistol he supposed to avoid any misconceptions. She then turned toward him and sauntered over.

“Well, just so happens, you happen to duck very well. You gave me a clean shot.”

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When you have a bad feeling about it…

“Hey pal, let me see some ID.”

Nick Sakaki stopped at the door of The Mystic tavern and turned to the bouncer.  It was noon straight up and there were about four people in the whole establishment.

“You serious?” he stole a look at the bar to see the woman he was seeking out deliberately cleaning glasses in that way that suggested she was waiting to see what happened.  Indeed, what did Nick think to do with 300 lbs of washed up ex-Husky football player barking at him.  He patted his jacket pockets and then held up his empty hands.  “Damn, think I left it on the banana boat I just got off.”

Husky, obviously playing for the Islanders, chuckled and waved him on.  Nick rolled his eyes.  This job of his was certainly taking him to unfriendly climes of all types.  He faced the bar and the ever-so-tall and raven-haired Latina still obviously ignoring his entrance.  He let out a breath slow as he approached the bar.  Sophie had mentioned her looks but, well, the Hawt factor of 10 was frankly absent in Sophie’s remarks.  Although, she had said, “Morena will be hard to miss.”  He pulled up a seat at the bar as casually and cooly as he could.  Then he waited.

After a few minutes of her continuing to clean glasses, he decided to speak.  Before the words got out, she answered him.

“Let me guess, you’re the errand boy.”

He smirked, not letting her see the feathers she’d ruffled.  Being called a “boy” of any kind by a beautiful woman was a terrible start.  Maybe silence would be golden.  But her continued disregard rankled and unnerved him.  And he wasn’t one to keep his tongue when unnerved.  “Can I get a beer?”  He waited while she got him something out of the tap at a leisurely pace.  Which worked out nicely as he enjoyed watching her saunter towards him and set the mug in front of him.   “And I prefer the term Executive Assistant, thank you very much.”  He grabbed the beer and took a long draught, almost choking on it.

“What the hell is that?” he asked.

“PBR.  I hear it’s what all the hipsters are drinking nowadays.”

Nick nearly gagged, drinking down half of it quickly.  “After I finish this, let me buy you a real drink.  I only drink this shit at Mama’s Kitchen accompanied by a 5-alarm burrito.”

Morena smiled.  And he knew he was done for when she tossed her hair back while straightening to full height, putting her hands on her hips.  “I suppose she sent you here to talk me out of leaving him.”

“Huh?”  It took Nick a minute to figure it out what she meant.  She definitely looked like she could handle herself.  He got caught admiring her toned arms and she crossed them instead.  “Oh, no, I’m supposed to talk you into a class.”

“I’m a little old to be going back to school.”  And there it was.  He finally made direct eye contact and she immediately looked away, started moving back down the bar.  He was dismissed, without another thought.  Normally, if that happened in a bar while he was out, he’d let it be.  The Seattle girls were, um, tricky, at best.  But this wasn’t one of the bevy of Belltown bars and he wasn’t looking to score a number.  But as he was about to speak again, he saw her straighten, suddenly on alert, her hand sliding under the bar.

He turned a head to see two rather unpleasant looking thugs pushing Husky the doorman through the door, doubled over.   Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Morena’s hand patting under the bar, searching for something that obviously wasn’t there.  “Fucking Frank,” she swore under her breath.

The two men pushed Husky to the floor and kicked him for good riddance, one of them pointing a pistol at the bar’s security.  The front thug, dressed rather;y shabbily, addressed Morena.  “Now, Miss Fountenay, maybe you’d like to talk again about selling.”

In the midst of vampires, monsters, and other things that go bump in the night, Nick had forgotten that sometimes, daytime was no less nice.  He got a firm grip on his beer mug and waited to see what she’d do next.  He really should stick to culinary school.

DJB: Memoirs, Volume 3: It’s in the way you use it

It had a been a few days after Morena’s phone call, after I knew that another vampire had attacked her and Sophie, that I called a special meeting of Conclave. It was the first time I had done such a thing, taken such an active role in anything to do with Conclave besides seeking members out to clarify comments or opinions voiced.

I explained recent events, showing them the police interest in recent disappearances of a corpse from the morgue and a businessman. I even used Sophie…I mean, the Vampire Psychologist’s UVA scale to impress upon Conclave how serious things were getting.

While the other vampire elders seemed agitated by events, wondering how things had so quickly changed, Valerian was strangely silent during their escalating debate. Should they send in the sanitation team? Or simply a spider team to collect information? Teng-Wen voiced the opinion that the region, which had always been under populated with our kind, was due a surge and a curate should be assigned immediately.

The dark, round room fell into quiet at the suggestion. Valerian, dressed in velvet black ceremonial robes, took a long, measured sip of his tea before setting the cup and saucer aside. He waved his servant Aubry forward, whispered a few words, and Aubry went to fetch more tea. He then cleared his throat for effect before speaking.

“Whenever, wherever she goes, vampires seem to congregate. It is nothing to be alarmed about.”

Teng-Wen, our only Jiang-Shi in Conclave, a calculating and dangerous member, pursed his lips to contain a retort. Aubry returned with more tea and while Valerian busied himself with the newly refreshed cup, Teng-Wen spoke a careful crafted reply: “If this is so, perhaps it is time again to rid us of her unnatural influence. Only this time, we should seek ways to make it permanent.”

Valerian shot a dark and glittery gaze at the other elder. “You presume to know of such a way? You have passed through death and know its secrets?”

Teng-Wen fell silent, knowing he had been outmaneuvered. But Valerian was not done with him.

“You do not know the deaths she has endured and yet, she rises again, like the Phoenix, the same and yet different, her memories somehow intact.” He let out a single meek laugh. “More a cockroach, an irritant. Forgive me for overstating her importance. We have not seen her threat, even lifetime after lifetime. She is merely to be observed and who better than Jesper to do so.”

Galscythe, one of the oldest, her age reaching almost into ancient, stepped forward. She seldom spoke, some thought because her mind was becoming to frail but no one would dare, in her presence, allow that thought breath. “It would be prudent to be sure this time. We’ve seen how a lone orphan can create a tide of blood.”

Valerian sighed deeply. He didn’t like to disagree with the others, didn’t like agitation among the ranks. But he hadn’t garnered as much respect within Conclave without a clear series of successes in navigating our kind through the modern age.

“I will not send any more of our kind into a were stronghold without knowing our proper action.” He then raised his eyes to me. “I trust with guidance, Jesper can identify the problem and we can then discuss what proper action is required.”

Galscythe stepped back lightly. Teng-Wen bowed in humbling agreement. The debate was over.

But there was no specific guidance I received from Valerian. When Conclave ended, he remained until the others left and then he too departed, with no further word to me on what he expected me to do.

So I put a call into Aubry, his servant. There was a question I needed answering before I proceeded. Generally, it is considered a break of manners to use one’s vampire abilities against other Conclave vampires except in sanctioned combat. And by extension, servants and companions were due the same courtesy.

“Hello?”

When Aubry answered the phone, I appeared standing there in the room just behind him. He heard me like a whisper in his mind, just below the creaks and moans of this ancient house on Na Příkopě. “Hello, Aubry. What is the tea that your master takes?”

Dazed, he let his arm drop the phone from his ear.  He pirouetted towards my presence. “Pine needle tea.”

“Curious. Why does he take it?”

“It’s a curative. To keep the balance.”

As quickly as I had affected him, I released him, retracting my presence back through the phone line and spoke simply. “Valerian had no particular orders for me, eh, Aubry?”

“Oh, Mr. Jesper. No, he left no instructions for you except to say he appreciates the call, you are to report once you’ve made proper contact.” He paused, as if trying to remember his instructions. My doing. He was still shaking off the cobwebs of my affecting him. “You haven’t contacted her yet, have you?”

I thought of every manner of response, remembering his master’s words at Conclave. And then I lied. “No, Aubry. Not yet.”

“Well, then. I will tell my master so. Do you have any other message?”

“Thank you, Aubry, no. That’s all.”

I hung up. Pine needle tea contained high concentrations of Vitamin C. More than six regular lemons. Something told me there was again much more to my Vampire Psychologist than previously thought. I did not know the natural of her acquaintance with Valerian, the most powerful and influential member of our government, but she had made an impact. One worth risking the penalties of bad manners to uncover.

Vampire Factbook: Excerpts

Protective Transformations

Vampires of differing types have developed latent ways of protecting themselves from threats, especially during their resting periods, by changing their form or being. Most of these methods are strictly legend or myth and have never been verified.

Rigor Dormitus – Akin in humans to the stiffen of the body after death (Rigor Mortis), the vampire’s body stiffens upon dormancy to the hardness and weight of wood or stone. Depending on the age/maturity of the vampire, the quality of the rigor becomes more significant. Younger vamps with this ability will harden to oak or mahogany while older vamps will harden to granite or even marble. The additional weight and stiffening makes vamps harder to move or attack, in some cases their bodies are indestructible in Dormitus form, protected even from sunlight.

Smoke or Mist – Seldom witnessed, this is likely due to the clouding effect rather than an actual physical transformation.

Invisibility – Not previously documented, some indirect evidence has suggested that a vampire may be able to mask their existence, even from other vampires, as to become “invisible.” It is not clear whether this is true invisibility or another example of influencing which allows the vampire to cloak their scent, appearance, and sounds from the target, whether it can be learned, and whether or not it must be targeted or can be environmentally applied.

Birds, Bats, or Flocks – While there have been no observed cases of vampires turning into an individual bat or bird, it was just recently observed of a vampire seeming to disappear into a flock of bats or crows. This may also be an illusion of clouding, prevalent with the Carpathian strain.

Wolves, Dogs, or other quadrupeds – Vampires do not transform into quadrupedal mammals. These creatures are more likely either shape shifters using the vampire form or mistaken werewolves.

While there is certain new evidence suggesting that vampires may have some slight abilities to alter their physical appearance (verification needed – see Lyles photo), it is generally believed that most reports of transformation are strictly the influence of the vampire on the human’s perception. This can also be inclusive of some projecting abilities, where it seems like the vampire thought of or engaged in conversation is closer than possible, perhaps even standing in the same room, within reach when it is clearly not physically possible. Potential causes for this include overactive imagination, aural influence, or the clarity of modern VoIP technology.

Bogus Abilities

Like many of the undocumented Protective Transformations, legend and myth have ascribed a multitude of abilities to vampires over the centuries. The following list has been, so far, clearly discredited:

• Flight
• Telepathy
• Shimmering or sparkling appearance
• Immortality

The latter is tantamount to the vampire legend and clearly the most egregious falsehood. There are various ways in which vampires can be killed.

Concussion (from the MayoClinic.com)

Concussions — Comprehensive overview covers symptoms, causes and treatment of this common brain injury.

Definition

Concussions range in significance from minor to major, but they all share one common factor — they temporarily interfere with the way your brain works. They can affect memory, judgment, reflexes, speech, balance and coordination.

Usually caused by a blow to the head, concussions don’t always involve a loss of consciousness. In fact, most people who have concussions never black out. Some people have had concussions and not even realized it.

Concussions are common, particularly if you play a contact sport such as football. But every concussion, no matter how mild, injures your brain. This injury needs time and rest to heal properly. Luckily, most concussions are mild and people usually recover fully.

Symptoms

The signs and symptoms of a concussion can be subtle and may not be immediately apparent. Symptoms can last for days, weeks or even longer.

The two most common concussion symptoms are confusion and amnesia. The amnesia, which may or may not be preceded by a loss of consciousness, almost always involves the loss of memory of the impact that caused the concussion.

Signs and symptoms of a concussion may include:

• Confusion
• Amnesia
• Headache
• Dizziness
• Ringing in the ears
• Nausea or vomiting
• Slurred speech
• Fatigue

Some symptoms of concussions are not apparent until hours or days later. They include:

• Memory or concentration problems
• Sensitivity to light and noise
• Sleep disturbances
• Irritability
• Depression

Scribbled Notes from Case #13: Maurice

• How viral are vampire “fluids?”  What properties of blood, sweat, saliva….healing, bonding?  Effects on influence?
• What was L’s relationship with Lucas?  Why is she not talking about him much?  Interest in courtesans?
• What big cities did the twins travel through at what times?  Maybe can show migration path of European strains into No.America.
• How exactly did M try to turn Annabel?  Methods vary among types/strains, blood sharing being most common.  Perhaps she wasn’t completely drained before she took his blood?
• How common is it for vampire masters to share with kindred how to turn?
• L’s ability of intention seems to be more nature of her of her sharp perceptions, not telepathy.  However, vampires tend to not have body language.  Perhaps they do but it is so slight…can that observation be taught to a human?
• Where did L learn about the birds and the bees?  Or M for that matter?
• Why was Caroline insistent on moving West?  (Check Memento for any Caroline references.)
• Caroline’s transformation: what does it suggest about M & L’s strain? 
• Are hybrid vamps possible?  Blood-Soul, Soul-Sex, Blood-Sex?  Can strains carry multiple types in them?  nature versus nurture?
• How does one kill a succubus anyways!?

A Hero Too Late

Nick rushed into the Ice Lounge ready for action against…well, maybe he wasn’t quite ready for he knew not what.  A quick glance around revealed…nothing.  A few couples, a loan business traveler.  A busy night for the hotel bar.  He spotted a familiar bartender in a white jacket and headed for the bar, where there was only one lone patron.

As he walked, he noticed that the few couples seemed frozen in place, their eyes glazed over, their bodies held at strange angles or in mid movement.  Nick slowed his pace, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up.  The businessman in the easy chair also looked more a mannequin than a man, glass held in his hand halfway to his lips.  Nick took a few quick steps and rushed the bar where Viktor was still straightening the garnish dishes.  The lone patron, a shorter man in a maroon shirt and dark slacks, was swirling a glass of dark red wine quietly while leaning against the bar.

“Viktor,” Nick called.  Viktor ignored him.  “Yo, Viktor.”

“Viktor, take a break,” the man in the maroon shirt said.  Viktor, drone-like, turned and walked off without a single look at Nick.  The sensation of the willies was back again as Nick took in the man as he took a long draught from his wine glass.  While the man looked quite a bit smaller than him, Nick felt a chill coming from more than the chilled ice river built into the bar top.

The man considered the liquid in his glass for a moment before setting the glass on the bar.  He lifted his other hand in which he held a cell phone, one of those palm-sized ones with the QWERTY keyboard.  “So what’s your rush?”  There was something in his voice, something menacing and yet cajoling.

“My boss, I thought she might be in trouble.  There’s weird shit a-foot in the hood.”  The words tumbled out of his mouth before they had finished forming in his mind.

The man smiled a deep, fierce smile and turned his face to Nick’s.  Dark stubble was seeming to grow into place faster than any five o’clock shadow Nick had ever seen.  And his eyes burned black, sending an icy chill down his spine.  What the Hell had he gotten into?

“It seems that there are no damsels in distress for us to rescue here this night, Nick Sakaki.”

“Huh?”  Nick couldn’t remember saying his name but his memory of what had just happened felt like it was slipping away as quickly as it happened. 

The man stepped towards him but he was frozen in place.  Unable to move, Nick watched in horror as the dark mysterious man shoved something into his chest.  His arms found movement again a split second before the object dropped and Nick grabbed at it.  It was the cell phone.

He looked down into the man’s face as his dark eyes caught him.  They weren’t black at all but deep blood red.

“Your boss will be missing this.  At least one of us can be useful this evening.”

The strange man then began to slowly walk from the room and Nick felt compelled to watch him go until just at the top of the stairs out, he exploded into a murder of crows.  Words Nick would never use.  Not even in his most poetic moment.

He shook his head and suddenly the room was alive with movement and Viktor walked hurriedly back to the bar.

“Nick!  A-ha, good to see you.  What’s new?”

Nick clasped the phone.  “I have no fucking clue.”

The Meat Market

Nick Sakaki had finished the last of the clean-up, set up the laptop as instructed by his new employer, and had the innards of the office sealed as tight as a drum against encroaching light.  It had been a long day and something kept tugging at him.  He knew where his new employer would be; he’d suggested a place that he trusted, knew the bartender there Viktor to be a good reliable person.  He considered the place safe.  But what it needed to protect against, he still didn’t know.  Sophie had promised to clue him in now that his statement of work was signed off.

 He should just wait until morning.  He still had to pick up his last bartending check at Jerry’s but then the Ice Lounge was a quick swing out of the way of his parent’s place in the International District.  It was really no trouble to stop by and check, make sure she made her appointment all right.  I mean, he was her new assistant, right?  He’s just being thorough.

 He bounded down the stairs with such purpose that he failed to see Oksana, the eldest daughter of the Russian deli owner until he was literally bumping into her as she stepped out of the shadows.

 “Hello,” she purred.

 “Shit!”  He took in her appearance in a hot instant:  trashy, skimpy outfit, fuck me boots, black stockings showing underneath her too short skirt.  But it was her face that turned up his caution:  she looked strung out, pupils too big, eyes too dark, mouth messily stained with dark red lipstick, hanging open almost unnaturally.  “Sorry, you startled me.”

 “Well, you’re a pretty one.”  She took in a long inhale as she casually put a long arm around him.  With her boots and her natural height, she was a smidge taller than Nick.  There wasn’t any part of her that didn’t send his tramp-ho Klaxons off.  “Where are you going tonight?  And can I come along?”

 “Uh, sorry.  I gotta head to work.  No rest for the barely employed.”  He gently tried to extricate her arm.  She replaced it with her leg, wrapping it around his waist, leaning him back against the wall. 

 She pouted.  “Don’t you want to party with me?”

 “How can I say this nicely…not really.”  He tried to step away from her, without pushing her away.

 She let him step away but just enough to put both arms around him.  “You sure smell nice.  I can hear you blood throbbing.”  She laughed deep in her throat.

 “Yeah?” He said, willing himself to be cool.  Then he forced all the concern out and began to put on the mask of indifference.  “Probably just ’cause I’m late.”  He shrugged, stopped trying to evade her, let himself go limp with her arms around him.

 The effect was immediate.  “Mmm, you’re no fun.”  She stepped away.

 He shrugged again and slowly began to walk around her, toward his sport bike.  He finally hazarded a glance back as he spoke, “Maybe next time.”

 She was gone.  She hadn’t made a sound.

Later, at Jerry’s, a bustling hotel bar full of the pretty sort of people, Nick leaned over the bar.  ”Hey Tobie, Sal was gonna leave my check.”

 Tobie, equally hip and just old enough to serve, waved him around.  “He left it behind the register, man.  Serve yourself, it’s hopping tonight.”

 Nick came around the bar and glanced over the crowd in the darkened lounge.  It was complete with the model types, the cougars, the traveling businessmen, the waitresses that all looked like they were walking a catwalk.  Every man’s possible type was wandering about, plying and cooing for appletinis and ceviche.  Including tall, leggy, trashy, Russian fake blondes.

 He saw her across the room as if the crowd parted just for them to meet eyes.  Hers were darker than before, pools of obsidian peering at him as if expecting him to be jealous as she brushed barely covered breasts against the arm of some 40-something suit with a bulging wallet as he ordered yet another round of overpriced appetizers.

 Something told Nick that pork dumplings weren’t on her mind for curbing her appetite.  She kept her eyes locked on Nick’s and he couldn’t look away as she nuzzled the suit’s ear, then ran the tip of her tongue along the rim of his earlobe, showing teeth that seemed too sharp and large to fit in her mouth.  Nick blinked and turned his back on her, grabbing his check and stuffing it into his pocket, struggling a bit with the fit of his jeans.  He rushed out from around the bar and dared to look back in her direction.  She blew him a kiss and smiled, lips pulling back.

 He hadn’t imagined it.  He felt the cold dread creep through him.  The pieces illogically fit together and he hurried out of the bar.  Ice Lounge was ten minutes from his parent’s place.  If he pushed it, he could be there in fifteen.  Somehow, he just knew Sophie needed a hand.  Though he couldn’t figure out what he thought he’d seen or why he thought he’d be able to do a damn thing if he was even right.

 He sped off anyways, kicking it into a new gear and risking a serious ticket, if only to shake of the willies the blonde had given him.

 

Phone Call: 206-555-3663 to 425-555-8267

Morena:  I’m not coming over tonight.

Jesper:  What’s wrong?  You sound upset.

Morena:  Nothing.  I’m just not coming over.

Jesper:  You were with Sophie.

Morena:  Leave it.

Jesper:  What happened?  Is she safe?

Morena:  I said leave it.

Jesper:  I can hear it in your voice, Morena.  Just tell me what happened.

(pause)

Jesper:  Morena, it’s all right.  Just tell me what happened.

Morena:  You asshole!  You shoulda warned me.

Jesper:  Morena, tell me—-.

Morena:  (yelling) No warning, no nothing!  You didn’t prepare me.  You think this is a joke?  For me?  For her?  Protect her?  How the fuck am I supposed to do that?  You pat me on the head, make me believe I helped you save Camille.  That was all just a big fucking joke to you, wasn’t it?  You didn’t need my help.  Is that how you get off?  Watching humans thinking they can go toe to toe with you…you…You fucking asshole!   

Jesper:  Morena, calm—-.

Morena:  Fuck you!  Don’t talk to me.  Don’t call me.  You…you should have warned me.  You should have warned me what your kind can do. 

Jesper:  You ran into another.

Morena:  No shit!

[CLICK]

Sophie’s Voice Mail

9:05PM   Nick:  Uh, Sophie?  Yeah, it’s Nick.  Nick Sakaki.  Uh, I was checking in to see if you’d made your appointment?  Anyways, call me back at this number.  It’s my cell.

9:25PM   Nick:  Sophie, it’s Nick again.  Checking in about your appointment.    Well, it’s not for a bit but I was hoping you’d at least let me know where you’ll be and what time you expect to be done.  [laugh] Kinda hard to keep your calendar when I don’t know where you are.  Ok, then.  Call me.

9:45PM   Nick:  Sophie, Nick.  Really would like to know your stats.  When, where?  Call me.

10:05PM Nick:  Sophie.  Did I mention I’m worried?  You took off in a huff.  Am I supposed to be worried about you or just supposed to be all Moneypenny for you?  Does this thing even work?  Call me.  ASAP.