As Lane entered one of the larger and least economically hindered malls in Pendragon, he was greeted with a combination of stares, and standard "good morning"s.
The strangest greeting Lane received was "Happy Valentines Day." Which was given to him from a fairly attractive woman at the entrance to a cellular phone store. Lane gave her a nod in reply, and went to stare at the shelves full of phones, chargers, and cases... All of which came in different sizes and colors. There were accessory kits designed to change the appearance of a phone in much the same way wide-body kits, are used to change the aesthetic look of a car.
Lane had to turn away several sales people, insisting that he was entirely capable of reading the packages. This was an important decision... one not to be tampered with by the so called 'Professional Opinions.' While those in the Reg or the occult always figured that his laser pointer was Lane's greatest asset, it was his phone that ultimately decided the fate of millions. Lane's laser pointer could derail a locomotive. But his phone could derail the national economy.

It took Lane nearly an hour to look through every phone, case, and accessory kit. When he left the store he had a silver streamline looking PDA phone with nearly every feature, and a black case which advertised heat and electric insulation that could withstand a lightening strike. Lane felt that this was the perfect decision until he got it home, and realized he didn't know how to use a PDA phone... yet.

Jason sat in the dark room, his only company a glowing computer screen. The walls and floors were bare, save for the ragged blanket he was sitting on.
Head in his hands Jason tried to control his thoughts. They jumped around, tormenting him for a moment before skittering off into the darkness. Slowly he raised his head from his hands, casting a careful glance around the room before he focused on the laptop.

I could go on and on but let's move on shall we?

On the laptop screen was a program, pictures, videos, files, everything Jason had stolen. He flipped through them his face unchanging as he stared and read the files of his “childhood”.

Say, you're me and I'm you and they all watch the things we do
and like a smack of spite they threw me down the stairs
haven't felt like this in years
the great magnet of malicious magnanimous refuse

Jason dragged a few files into another program, rearranging them. Fingers flying quickly across the keyboard Jason gave the program the command to encrypt the files. A box popped up on the screen displaying a percent completion bar, 0%.

Let me go and plunge me into the dead spot again

Sitting back he watched the bar, 20%.

That's where you go when there’s no one else around it's just you
and there was never anyone to begin with now was there?

The files that were being encrypted were some of the most incriminating files against the Agency. Jason had almost died getting them…

Sanctimonious pretentious dastardly bastards with their thumb on the pulse and a finger on the trigger

35%

CLASSIFIED MY ASS THAT'S A FUCKING SECRET AND YOU KNOW IT!

In another window, a black and white picture.

I'm sorry I could go on and on but it’s time to move on so

50%

Remember, you’re a wreck an accident

A picture taken as a candid moment, the very first meeting… It was supposed to be a secret…

Forget the freak your just nature

65%

Keep the gun oiled and the temple clean

With a deliberate click, Jason closed the window with the picture in it. Maybe things wouldn’t be so hard
if they had never met…

80%

Shit, snort and blaspheme let the heads cool and the engine run

But somewhere, Jason knew he wouldn’t be alive if they hadn’t met. He wouldn’t have a reason to live…

File Complete

Because in the end everything we do, is just everything we've done.

Closing the program, Jason closed his eyes. The encryption was of his own design, a code he designed so that only one person could break it. The only person that ever cared enough to try to break through to him…




[Stone Sour “Omega” Lyrics]

Sam was a bell boy at the Hallbarr Hotel. Rachel was a seller of hotel & limousine travel packages. James was limo driver. Though all of these people had met each other at one time or another, none of them really knew each other. They did however have one thing in common. They were all left handed. Alright, two things. All three of them had come into direct contact with a serial killer, and Addison Lane.

Addison had spent the time since parting with Fiona tracking down the would be killer. It didn't take him as long as he expected thanks to some helpful members of society who expedited the search. Sam had accidentally knocked over several luggage racks. Seemingly innocuous, the security guard in charge of watching the monitors volunteered to help, allowing Lane access to the camera room. Security cameras of the hotel's lobby showed the killer leaving the hotel and heading east. Lane caught up with Sam in the building's eastern parking. Sam was most disgruntled by the assassins lack of tip, and was more than willing to tell Lane about the large limo that picked him up. Lane called the limo company and was connected to Rachel who said that particular limo would be returning to it's parking area at the company's garage a few blocks away. True to her word, James drove into his favorite parking space, and was approached by the Addison Lane. James was persuaded by Lane to tell him where he had dropped the man off... a train station. James had even offered him a lift, but was surprised when Lane insisted he could get there faster alone. James had attributed this to his recent accident, and thought Addison Lane, didn't want to be anywhere near a limo.
Lane had boarded the train and abducted the assassin during a power outage in a tunnel, and the both of them ended up in an abandoned rail road car on some demolished tracks. The assassin was up front... less than helpful.

Lane pocketed his phone. The conversation with Sol had made the wheels in his head turn so fast his head spun. He refocused on his handy work... trying to keep his train of thought down to one action at a time. He was in an abandoned railroad car. The environment contrasted poorly with his suit, as well as the suit of the man Lane had duct taped to a metal folding chair. He was currently passed out, likely because of the hard punch Lane had well placed at the base of his neck. It was the man with the rifle from the roof top.

Lane gave him a slap across the face, and poured half the contents of his water bottle over the man's head, before slapping him again. Lane's gloves made the slapping noises sound sharper, almost like the cheesy punching sound used in television and film.
"Hi..." said Lane. "We didn't get a chance to talk earlier, I mean between the beatings and the phone call... I'm Addison Lane, the guy you were contracted to kill."
Lane shook the man's balled fist, taped behind the back of the chair.
"I will tell you with some uncertainty that if I leave you alone, you will eventually escape out of that chair. So... here's what's going to happen. You're going to tell me who hired you, and where I can find them. Then you're going to drop the contract on my head, and never come back to Maryland. I'll leave you here, and in a few hours when the tape looses it's adhesive properties from a combination of sweat and stress, you can escape, and start over. How does that sound?"
Lane ripped the tape off the man's face.
"Sounds like you have mental problems... you should seek fuckin therapy."
"Says the contract killer." replied Lane.
"Fuck you!" spat the assassin.
Lane knelled down in front of the mans face. He pulled a wallet off the top of a smashed work bench right next to the killer's seat. He opened it and looked through it.
"Uh huh. Just as I suspected." said Lane. "No library card."
Lane shook his head.
"Hey, I suppose that makes sense right. It's not like they have a Contract Killing for Dummies." He went on, as he pulled the man's ID.
"Here we are. Logan Barrett." Addison looked at Logan, than at his ID. He stared at the both of them as if trying to make sure they were the same 2 people.
Lane then pulled a box out of his pocket no bigger than the kind jewelry stores put bracelets in. He placed it on the work bench.
"Logan, I'm going to ask you one more time. And if you don't answer me, I'm going to open this box... and believe me. You don't want me to open this box. This box is the only thing between you and agony like you've never felt." explained Addison dangerously.
"How dumb do I look?" shot Logan, who nervously eyed the box.
"Who... hired... you?" Lane annunciated every word.
"Go fuck yourself." Logan snarled.
Lane stood up quickly, and stepped slowly around his prisoner. He placed his fingers on the box. Logan stared at it, as if it were a tarantula that might snap at him at any time.
"You brought this on yourself Mr. Barrett."
He closed his eyes as Lane swung it open. It was Lane's laser pointer. The assassin laughed after opening his eyes.
"What are you going to do, blind me with it?"

Lane held it up, and pointed it at him threateningly. Logan continued laughing. Lane sighed.
Electricity began to arch out of the laser pointer into Logan Barrett. He started spasming, and grunting in E vowel sounds.
"You know what happens to a human being struck by lightening?" Lane said loudly over the man's voice. "It's interesting, you see first their muscles spasm as their nervous system's electrical impulses are overridden by the electricity. By the way, the human heart is a muscle, so that spasms too. The bowels, the bladder, are also muscles by the way, so it can get pretty messy. Of course all that happens in a matter of nano seconds, but we're taking the lightening scenic route."
Lane put down his laser pointer. The man continued to spasm.
"Looks like we went to long, and put you in cardiac arrest. That's ok though, I've done this before. CLEAR!"
Lane's laser pointer zapped him with a much larger, and quicker burst of electricity.
The man inhaled.
"Oh right, you're diaphragm also gets paralyzed. I forgot to mention that." Lane said waiting for the man to recover. "Now, who are you working for? And you better tell me before we get to the part about melting skin and exploding fingers and toes."
"Fredericks!" Gasped Logan. "He's on your board."

Lane pocketed his laser pointer, and left the box on the work bench.
"Thanks Logan you've been very helpful." said Lane, as if they'd done something as simple as a business transaction. "One more question. Am I your first contract?"
Logan tutted.
"You're my first failed contract." he replied bitterly.
"I'm flattered. One out of how many?" Lane asked.
"17."

There was a loud gunshot. Lane stepped out of the dilapidated railroad car, full of cracks and holes along the rusted walls. Cracks, and holes which were now miniature waterfalls of blood. He was carrying some crumpled duct tape, a water bottle, and a jewelry box. Police would arrive a few weeks later, and find a man who had evidently committed suicide

Will someone please remind me why I'm still in Pendragon?

It's a phrase that she's asked herself ad nauseum, long before re-joining the Agency, moving (apparently back) to Black Ice, and watching her life spiral slowly down into oblivion. Why she'd opted to stay in her old apartment that night was beyond her. There was a reason she didn't go back to Black Ice. But damned if she could remember it.

And, jesus, does her head hurt. Okay, so that part, she knows is her own fault. As much as she'd promised not to drink herself silly at the Valentine's gala, (to keep her mind off of other things, no doubt) she'd done it anyway. Although, she was pretty sure that didn't factor in why she hadn't captured Jason. Oh, no. That would've been far too simple.

As the pain drills further into her skull, she wants to kick and scream like a small child who hasn't gotten its way. Instead, she just absent-mindedly thumbs for a cigarette, taking an open seat near the counter.

Coffee. Right. Like that's going to help.

Who: Sorcha Wallis and Jeffery Holt
What: A meeting in a bar, and a movement of chess pieces upon the chessboard of Sorcha's life.
When: When I am able to remember, I will let you know. XD This was started a long time ago...
Where: Random bar in Pendragon
Rating: PG-13ish
Status: Threaded in beginning, continue in comment.

( The gaining of what seems to be a pawn, but could be more... )

This was it. Time to go. Lane checked all his pockets, he had everything... except his phone. He looked under the bed, into the entrance hall, and finally down in the elevator shaft, the flames crackling gently. Lane turned around to make sure he hadn't left it in Fiona's apartment, but was greeted with a fast moving expansion of antimatter. He fell down the elevator shaft, one hand reaching into his pocket for the talisman, and the other hand reaching for his laser pointer. He waved the laser pointer at the rapidly approaching abyss below, and his phone rose into his possession at the exact moment he activated the talisman of hearth.

Lane saw himself hit the antimatter field expanding from the ground floors, but as he closed his eyes, he felt himself slam into a hardwood floor. Upon opening them, Lane found himself on the floor of his home. The talisman cracked in one hand, and his laser pointer still firm in his grasp with his phone, which apparently wasn't working after being in a fiery elevator shaft. Lane then noticed that even though he was breathing... he couldn't breathe. He started hyper ventilating, but still felt no relief. He tried to stand, but his legs weren't working. His vision started to blur, and darken as he approached his land-line. He dialed 911, and some other numbers as the phone weighed his arm down, and hit the ground. He started crawling over to his front door, but passed out in the door jam leading out of his bedroom.

Addison heard sirens. They were interrupting his sleep. What was that god awful smell? And that light, what was that?
"Addison Lane." came a deep woman's voice. "You're going to be alright, just try not to move."
The smell was gone, but who uses smelling salts anymore anyway? Lane had to clamp his eyes shut. But the damn siren wouldn't stop.

Time seemed to move exceptionally quick, because when Addison finally opened his eyes again, it was dark out and he was in a hospital bed. In a hospital gown. Lane took a minute to wonder if it was a man or a woman who had changed him while he was sleeping. He could see his suit, tie, and shoes folded neatly on his night table. He had an IV and an oxygen tank in front of that. Everything in his body burned like the fire he'd just escaped from.
"Mr. Lane?" came another women's voice.
Addison looked up, his vision trailing. It was a nurse, no a doctor.
"I'm Dr. Rosen, are you alright?"
Addison, worked to keep his eyes open.
"You tell me doc." he replied.
"You're going to be fine. What were you doing before you dialed 911?" she asked.
"Passing out, I think." Lane said.
"Before that." the doctor clarified. "Were you exercising? Taking methamphetamines?"
Lane looked left and right, noticing again that it was night time. "What day is it?"
"It's February 13th." she replied in the same manner as if she interrupted him. She went on to list possible things he was doing that brought him there "Cocaine?"
"What year?" Lane interrupted.
"2009. You've been missing for over a month." She explained.

There was an awkward pause where neither of them said anything.

"So what were you doing, when you called 911?" Dr. Rosen almost demanded.
"I was looking for my phone. Why?" replied Addison
"You had enough lactic acid in your system to digest your skeleton for one thing." shot back Dr. Rosen "Professional athletes can't work up that much without blood doping and a lot of drugs... and you were looking for your phone."
"Well," said Lane leaning forward. "That is fascinating doc, but I've got to go."
"You're not really thinking of leaving." she said, watching Addison pull out his IV needle.
"No of course not. " Lane swung his legs off the hospital bed, standing up. "I've already decided."

Lane took a few painful steps, making sure he could walk. Dr. Rosen stood back with her arms crossed, as if waiting for something. The oxygen tank rolled behind him, still attached to his face. He took it off, and took two more steps, nearly falling over on the second one. On the 3rd step he fell to one knee, and couldn't seem to support his own weight.

"Yeah." said the doctor. "We've got you on almost pure oxygen so your body cleans up the lactic mess it's in. I'm surprised you can stand."

"Well thank you very much." said Addison, re-attaching the oxygen mask, while putting his suit on.
No sooner had he finished dressing, did he take off the oxygen mask and start walking again. He made it into the hallway before nearly falling over and turning around.
"I'm going to borrow this." said Lane, re-attaching the oxygen mask and walking out the door.

How bizarre it must have looked to the night staff, a well dressed man, dragging an oxygen tank like a dialysis machine. Lane stood at the counter by the elevators. An african man greeted him.
"Mr. Lane. You can't leave, the doctor needs to keep you for observation" he said.
"I'm Addison Lane," said Addison indignantly, "if I stay, I may have to pull funding for this hospital."
His pen swinging through his signature on the sign-out sheet was an exclamation point to his words.

Lane took off the the oxygen mask a 3rd time and left it attached to the tank at the hospital exit. He fixed his tie, before he walked through a sea of people and camera crews. His legs felt like they were going to fall again, but now that blood was circulating through them, they seemed to be ok. Mp3 recorders flew into his face as the questions started coming

Árvore was walking alone down the street his coat held closely to him. David had been missing for sometime now and Árvore had no leads at all. He attempted to track him through air currents but found that they had died down and reappeared only randomly, for short periods of time.

He sighed and his breath hung in front of him for a moment in a white cloud. He waved a hand through it, as if it would really yield to him. It dissipated and Árvore put his hands back into his pockets. The tiny cloud only served as a further reminder of David. He knew something had to be wrong, David would never stay away this long plus the weather was sporadic and strangely dark. Árvore feared the worst had befallen David, he had lost connection with it.

"An Elemental without its Element. Such a sin I cannot imagine the people that would do something so cruel. An Elemental without an Element is hardly an Elemental at all. He won't last long without it..." Árvore spoke out loud putting a hand to his head, he did not want to imagine his friends fate.

Without contact with the Core Element an Elemental quickly loses Power, Control, and Life Force. Extended loss of contact leads to periods of unconsciousness ,with periods of strange fluxes in the connected Element, both of which is followed by death.

Elementals themselves don't have the power to separate themselves from the Core Element, although they can try and cause quite a disturbance by doing so. To separate an Elemental and its Element is to take the Sun away from the Sky.

Stopping for a moment Árvore closed his eyes and tried to sense Element around him. The trees growing in their concrete prisons complained about their roots hitting the sides and having no where to go. The weeds in the cracks cried out as they were stepped on. Árvore broke his trance and started walking again. Not even the trees were listening to him, too distracted with their own hardships to even make a serious connection with him. Though they were connected to him, the plants and greenery in the city were cold and hard, just like the city.

'Alone as I sit and watch the trees
Wont you tell me if I scream will they bend down and listen to me
And it makes me wonder if I know the words will you come'

A tiny wind picked up a fallen dried leaf from the ground and lifted it into the air. Árvore put up his hand the leaf caught between his fingers. He looked at it and held it close. Though it was dead the leaf was still part of him. He held it back up into the air and it fell from his hand, it floated down slowly. Not even considering that anyone watching the scene may think him mad for being so taken by a small dead brown leaf.

Árvore frowned, time was running out.