Historical Earth The Rose, The Rogue and The Raven

Tatiana Blush AKA Shanghai Sapphire
A gentleman's club, London

Tatiana blew a strand of hair from her face, as she weaved her way through the tables, doing her best to ignore or evade the many hands that seemed to reach out for her. Smoke fogged the entire room, and it was useful at times. But she kept her cool. Knowing that this was not her true job, and she had another purpose kept her from reacting the way she wished. No, this was important. She let a wry smile touch her lips as she weaved her way to grab another order of drinks.

She was hopefully nearing the end of this phase of the mission. She had been sent hear, to seek out information on the Nevergates. Something potentially nasty and dangerous, was all she needed to know. Through various contacts and her employer, word had gotten to her that one of this particular club's most frequent customers had spoken of the gates while drunk one night. He was here now, a sweaty fat fellow lying slumped in an armchair with a cigar in hand.

Tatiana dabbed a bit of her perfume on her chest area, while she worked with her trays. It helped with the surrounding stench. It also aided in helping to making some men more talk-able, because of the chemical the perfume was impregnated with. She also wore a special lipstick, just in case things got too out of control. She then heard the man call out towards her.

"Yooouuu!" he slurred at her. "Get over here! Let mee seee thaaat maaagnificent busom!"

Tatiana's face transformed as she smiled slyly at the man. With a wink, she grabbed a new drink, and slowly sauntered her way over to the man, taking her time so that he would have ample time to view her.

"Oh..these, good sir?" she asked innocently, as she leaned forward, placing the drink down on the table in front of the man. Hopefully, she would not have to wait long to see any effects. She made sure he got a good whiff as she then slowly stood up. "Why, dank you sir.!" she giggled softly as she stood back smiling slightly while she held the serving tray.

She had to be careful. Such men usually didnt like much talk. Listening sometimes..but not much in the way of real conversation. She waited to see what reaction, if any, did he have to her perfume, as she kept a careful eye.




TAG: Inspector Terence Fairchild?

 

Cross
'pon the Dirigible

The ingrates advanced upon Cross with little regard for his capabilities and indeed his possibilities. This was of course their first mistake; the second mistake was to assume his armament was simple and predictable. Not so, Pavel Evegenevich Rodionov was no mere hired killer. He was an assassin with capital letters, if he said so himself, and fully deserved the moniker. These fools would last little time at all 'gainst one with his training, but 'twas not his judgement to make.

Cross felt himself a tool, a weapon, indeed even a limb to be used 'gainst those who would oppose his goals.

And his goals were many and ambitious, indeed.

Cross' Royal Majesty, in All Their Infinite Glories, would have seen fit to avoid a confrontation such as th'one he was about to involve himself in; as their majesty was unavailable, the Russian fatalism took hold and gripped his mind.

'Twas interesting indeed, for no such condition exists, and indeed shall never, but as a product of his times, Cross was incapable of thinking otherwise. These men had made their choice, oh so foolish though 'twas, and would suffer the consequences.

"My good men," rolled Cross' words with a sensual drawl, the R's lilting and fancy-free, "what seems to be the problem? I am sure we could discuss this over, say, a pint."

All the while he steeled his nerves for th'inevitable draw to come from 'neath his left shoulder, where sat a loaded revolver. Six shots - more than enough to kill anything that moves.

Tag: Inspector Fairchild

 

I apologise for the tardy filing of this, my second report.

Day Two

The first day's debrief had yielded some perfunctory tidbits from the Rose, most of which had already been known to us. She informed us of one agent's escapades inside a gentleman's club, and the other agent's misadventures aboard a dirigible.

I opted to return to her prophecy later. Today I spoke to The Rogue for the first time.

*

He was a gaunt and malnourished figure, dressed in rustler's attire and chewing upon a toothpick. He smiled at my entry and offered his hand to shake.

"Inspector Fairchild," he said, "Heard you spoke yesterday morn to my ol' friend the Rose. Really purdy thing, huh?"

He laughed. A high-pitched cackle of a sound.

I instructed him not to concern himself with the work of the other Prophets, lest it prejudice his work. I made him understand that I required from him only whatever information he could provide on the fate of our two operatives.

His technique involves a combination of gastromancy and extispicy, so I had provided him with the agents' favoured foods: eggplant parmesan and tiramisu for the Sapphire, and simple apples for Cross.

"I specialise in pre-cognition," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "This re-constructing of events after the fact is all new to a simple cattle herder like me."

Nevertheless, after a half hour he was able to provide me with his own visions.

"I can see Pavel Rodionov AKA Cross," he announced in a melancholy voice, spitting out apple seeds as his eyes rolled back in his head. "Four men advance upon him on the deck of a dirigible, approaching Londontown. Cross prepares himself to whip out his revolver- it lies seated beneath his left shoulder- but first he offers them a chance at reconciliation. He asks them to share a pint with him."

"But they ignore his offer. They charge him. He fires upon them. He is a trained assassin. But one of them avoids the bullet, and comes crashing into Cross. This fellow is a burly sort, and his weight is considerable. They tumble together towards the edge of the dirigible, and seem certain to fall over the side..."


He stopped there, and tossed me the apple core. He could see no more for Cross at the present time, he informed me. But I take heart from the fact that his vision matched those of the Rose- perhaps through using the Prophets in this manner we shall be able to divine every detail about the operation.

"And what of the other agent?" I asked, proffering the eggplant. He scoffed it with noticeably keener appreciation than that with which he had greeted the apples.

"Tatiana Blush AKA Shanghai Sapphire," he announced, licking parmesan from his lips. . "I see her inside a London gentleman's club, sauntering seductively over to a portly patron. Her perfume is loaded with intoxicant, and it quickly has the desired effect. The man's face flushes red, and he staggers drunkenly to his feet.

"Lets yoooou and I go somewhere mooore private," he commands her, reaching for her palm with his sausage fingers, pulling her towards a backroom.

But Sapphire is being watched by a pair of sharply-dressed men at the bar, who put down their drinks and follow at a distance."


Tag: Penguinator-176 and Ktala

 

Pavel Rodionov
The Dirigible

Panic gripped the agent known as Cross as he tumbled, locked in combat with the remaining thug, towards the rigging. His cavalier attitude, his professionalism, this all faded - suddenly his slick act was dropped in favour of survival. Elbows and fists flailed at his assailant, and the memory in his bones of how to move, how to strike, was what saved him.

The side of his hand swung at the man's neck, hard - he missed once, struck again, and connected. The thug dropped to the deck, dangerously close to falling over. Pavel - for he was no longer the agent, no longer the professional, was merely surviving - struggled for balance, but the man's leg knocked his, and he went over the side, his revolver falling into empty air.

Not like this, his soul seemed to scream, and his hand shot out for something - anything - and latched ahold of a loose line. He swung down below the dirigible, swearing loudly in his native Russian, cold sweat making his palms slick.

Tag: Inspector Fairchild

 

Tatiana Blush AKA Shanghai Sapphire
A gentleman's club, London

Tatiana smiled. Her perfume was working. She worked hard, to keep a smile on her face, and to keep herself from snapping the fat toad's next, as she leaned over him.

Her target quickly, staggers drunkenly to his feet.

"Lets yoooou and I go somewhere mooore private," he commands her, reaching for her palm with his sausage fingers, pulling her towards a backroom. "Oh...Sir's...you is soo strong." she tells him, as she giggles, but being very careful of how he tries to grabs a hold of her. She has something to calm down Mt. Fatso, but she wants information first. This is going to be tricky.

But even as she is being yanked, she notices that there is movement behind her. Is she being followed? This could be bad. If this guy has talked too much, then they might have sent someone to make sure he keeps his mouth shut. But she might not get another chance to get any information. She knows the room and layout of the club, so if she can get her mark alone, for even a few moments, she might have a chance. So she picks up speed, and leads the man towards a backroom with a window. Something she can escape from, if necessary.

She yanks the man into the backroom she has in mind, and then quickly jams a chair in front of the door, making it look as if it was a casual move, her leg high on the chair. If worse came to worse, the knife strapped up high, and her small revolver 'Sting' might have to take over. But hopefully, it would not come to that. She smiled, as she spoke softly. "Now...Sir, we be alone. What say we play a game?"

With the drug in the perfume, she would have to carefully word her questions. A keep tight control on the mans hands. Why did they give her these assignments? She gave a sly smile. She was here to learn about some gates. Time to start asking questions.

Tag: Terence_Fairchild

 

Day Three

Today was The Raven's turn. I was in for a surprise.

*

He was pale and plump, dressed in a suit and a top hat. He consulted a pocket-watch obsessively throughout the interview

"Inspector Fairchild," he said, "Good morn to you. My birds tell me you have spoken previously with the Rogue and Rose. I trust that you distrust them already."

He smiled without humour.

As I had done with the Rogue, I instructed him not to concern himself with the work of the other Prophets, lest it prejudice his work. He agreed that this was sound advice, and began drawing the diagrams and numerical charts for which he is known.

"Pavel Rodionov AKA Cross," he said while shuffling through his charts, as if producing the name from within one of the many mathematical formulae he had etched out in front of him. "Nineteen years of age at the time of his first kill. One year for each of the angels who guard Hell, according to the Qur'an. Incidentally, Hell was precisely Cross's destination.

"He swings on a loose line beneath the dirigible on which he was travelling. The vessel dips towards the Thames. Its weight is considerable, its trajectory inevitable...

"It crashes into the water, and there Pavel's lungs were overwhelmed by the murky sewage which flooded them. I apologise- was that not what you wished me to divine? The fate of the agent? He drowned in the Thames..."


The Raven stopped there, and produced another series of diagrams.

"Tatiana Blush AKA Shanghai Sapphire," he said. . "She was born in Essex, London, at a location approximately seven miles from the place where she died. Seven, of course, being a number of much import and significance to a man such as myself.

"As she steps into a backroom inside the gentlemen's club, she jams a chair in front of the door to prevent any intruders during her interrogation of her victim. She has placed her portly target into a chair, and prepares to ask him what he knows about the Nevergates.

"He is intoxicated. Her would-be assailants are prevented from reaching her. The backroom even has a window from which she can make an escape if necessary. She had taken all the correct steps to ensure her survival.

"A shame then, that it appeared the fat man had been faking his intoxication. He rises to his feet and triggers an explosive strapped beneath his shirt, blowing them both to smithereens. The Sapphire was torn to pieces."

He would reveal nothing else, but regarded me smugly. I instantly disbelieved every word he had said.

Tag: Penguinator-176 and Ktala (feel free to post your deaths)

 

Pavel Riodionov
The Thames

As the dirigible sank towards the river below, so too did Pavel's hope. This was not meant to happen! The murky waters beneath his feet looked like a black mire, and he half expected a hand to reach up and grab for his feet.

In a sense, he was right.

Fate's hand had begun to close into a fist, crushing his life away. Cold terror gripped his heart as his feet touched the water, and he looked about frantically, to either bank, but he saw no human faces on either side, no souls to reach out to. The dirigible came down on top of him, crashing in an agonizingly slow fashion. It was coming down on top of him, he thought in a detached manner, and the finality of that thought scared him into the present.

As his eyes fell below the waterline, his foot became tangled in the line he was holding on to. He tried to swim away, as he saw the crew - and the thug - swim to the surface. Who would miss the odd Slavic gentlemen with his cold demeanour?

The answer came as the waters of the Thames began to fill his lungs: no one.

His hands shook in fear - this was new, uncommon, strange - was he dying?

Pavel's endurance gave out and his lungs screamed for air, but received only water. He recalled the only man he'd killed by drowning, holding his head under the water for two minutes. Had it only been two minutes? He needed to check his watch - no! He needed to free his leg, and swim up, towards air, sunshine, life!

But his drive died seconds before he did. He saw the dirigible floating down gently, realized it would soon rest on his body - his corpse - and thought that there were much better ways to die. No other thoughts came.

His life had left him in one hundred and five seconds.

Tag: Inspector Terence Fairchild

 

OOC: Interesting...

Tatiana Blush AKA Shanghai Sapphire
A gentleman's club, London

Tatiana turned back to the fat man, after she had jammed the chair under the door. As she turned to look at her portly target, she was well sure she had everything in hand, when he suddenly stands up, and he is not wobbling about, as he had been earlier.

A trap? Had he been faking it?

But how? She had been careful -

Any other questions she might have had time to formulate, were suddenly removed, as the fat man makes a movement. Her world suddenly blossoms into fire and light, followed for only the briefest moments of hot fury, and pain.

Then nothingness.


Tag: Inspector Terence_Fairchild

 

Day Four (morning)

Following the Raven's astonishing assertion that both agents had died prior to the official commencement of the operation, I sought out the Rose for confirmation.

*

"The Raven," she said to me with a coy smile, "He likes his games. He lied to you."

She offered no further insight into The Raven's apparent deceit. I confess I found it disturbing that one of our Prophets would seek to intentionally mislead us, and I resolved to speak to him again after luncheon.

The Rose accepted my offer of a brunch without comment, ate her food in silence and immediately set about examining the horoscopes she had devised. The Prophets all seem to work in mysterious ways, but it is not my place to question those methods. Not yet, in any case.

Eventually she entered her trance and I transcribed the content of her visions.

"Pavel Rodionov AKA Cross. Born beneath the sign of the seagoat, he possesses a fierce stubbornness that manifests itself most strongly in his will to survive. His ascendant, Taurus, was in the Seventh House at the time of the dirigible crash, which only tipped the odds further in his favour. The Bull does not suffer the indignity of death by drowning.

Cross managed to dive into the water before the vessel plummets, and makes his way towards the riverbank, where an assembly of beggar-men and washer-women greet him and check that he is alright. A young pickpocket attempts to thieve his wallet.

One of the surly men aboard the dirigible has survived, and swims towards Cross, fury upon his face..."


And that was that for today, on Cross at least.

"Tatiana Blush AKA Shanghai Sapphire. She was born beneath the sign of the Twins. Gemini is oft-associated with Loki, the Norse trickster. And for good reason.

The Sapphire's ruse had worked too successfully. Her mark slumps inside the backroom and passes out, overwhelmed by the potent mix of alcohol and the perfume she had used upon him. He will not answer any questions in this state.

There is a sharp knock at the door, and an attempt to force it open. For now, the chair beneath the handle holds them at bay. But the danger is not past, for the Sapphire can hear them cocking their firearms..."

Tag: Penguinator-176 and Ktala

 

Tatiana Blush AKA Shanghai Sapphire
A gentleman's club, London


Tatiana shook her head, frowning. A flash of thought, pushed away. She then looked over at her mark and her frown darkened deeper into a scowl, as she muttered softly to herself.

The fat slob has slump into the other chair, and has passed out cold. FOOL! He has already had far too much to drink, before she could get to him, and now he is useless to her. She will get nothing from him. So she will have to go for what she can find on him instead. She began to check his pockets for anything that might give her a clue -

*KNOCK-KNOCK!*

There is a sharp knock at the door, and an attempt to force it open. For now, the chair beneath the handle holds them at bay. Ana must now be brief, for she can hear them cocking their firearms. 'Dosent sound like they want to talk' she thinks to herself. And if they were bodyguards, ... well, best to not wait and see. The chair might hold for one shot, but she doubted much more than that. She has already planned an escape route, just in case trouble came looking for her. Several escape routes, actually, just in case she was cut off from one.

Leaping from her sleeping target, she leaps for the window, quickly checking to see if anyone seems to be looking outside, as she prepares to leap from the window. She has her pistol close, in case someone is waiting for her in the dark, and soon it would be her turn to be the hunter than the prey.


TAG: Inspector Terence_Fairchild

 

Sorry to interject, but I will be away until the 15th July. Fairchild's next report will be delivered to you then. My apologies for the wait.