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Scene Five - The Show
Topic Started: Aug 27 2010, 08:57 PM (1,067 Views)
LadyRahl
Member Avatar
Supreme Goddess Of All Things Bright And Shiny
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Van/Ian
Las Vegas, NV – Lavish

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“Is it on yet?” Ian asked coming into the living room, beers in hand and he passed one over to Val who leaned back in his chair behind his desk, the 56” LCD TV embedded in the wall on the other side of the office. The blinds to the large windows that looked down over the club below them were shut though they could still hear the soft thudding of the bass from the band on stage.

“Where the hell have you been?” Val asked. “It’s already started.”

“Sorry,” Ian replied. “Candy cornered me, still pushing the stripper/dancer angle. Wanted me to talk to you about it.”

“Later,” Val replied dismissivly, his attention on the television as he took a sip of the ice cold beer. In the back of his mind he knew that it wasn’t all that bad of an idea. They were looking to expand the club, the one next door had gone under and it would draw in more of a crowd but that was the least of his thoughts at the moment. Right now it was all about what was on the screen in front of him. He barely noticed as Ian took a seat on the sofa against the wall.

“Welcome back boyles and ghouls,” said the silvery slick voice of the host “I’m your host, Count Dracula,” he said dramatically flourishing a cape with a grin, vampire fangs dropping down in True Blood form before he laughed and took them out. Ah yes, Val thought, cheep theatrics, how people did love them.

“Jesus Christ,” Ian whispered seeing what was behind the announcer. “Is that,”

“Yeah,” Val replied his hand moving to his chest as the same time Ian’s went to his touching the slight scar that they both had from when they were children, when Gram’s charms had burst into flames burning their skin. “That’s it.”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” the host said setting the fangs and cloak aside. “I’m your host for the night Billy Burke and I want to welcome you all to a once in a life time opportunity to prove once and for all… do ghosts exist? Behind me,” he said gesturing to the two story house behind him that lay behind heavy iron gates “lays the infamous Reardon House. The house that’s said to be so haunted, and so dangerous, that no one will even come up to the gates, let alone go inside.”

“But tonight, tonight we’ll find out for certain as Rain Petrov, star of RP: Unsensored and Chella Williams The Voice of Reason enter the house together in a joint investigation.” The camera panned over to two small groups of people preparing for the investigation. The cameramen were ready to send the live broadcast out and then there was Chella, talking to a man that the host identified as Dennis, her right hand man, who had a large bag slung over her shoulder. The two talked easily unlike Rain and Sophia who appeared to be arguing, though to softly to be heard. Rain looked over her shoulder at the house, pulling the bag away from Sophia and Val and Ian could swear that she shoved a small envelope in Sophia’s hands shaking her head as Sophia continued to argue her point. Again and again Rain would shake her head and she looked over to Chella, saying something to her and Chella just smiled and laughed clearly not taking what Rain was saying seriously. In clear frustration Rain shook her head and turned back to Sophia, continuing their argument.

“Looks like they’re just about ready here folks. We’ll be broadcasting all night long as the two groups investgate the house, comparing notes and seeing what the dreaded house will throw at them, if anything,” he said with a wink.

“Jesus, he thinks this is a fucking joke,” Ian said with a shake of his head. “What the hell are they doing?”

“They’ve always been at odds,” Val replied. “Chella’s convinced that Laroux drugged us and we all were halloucinating. You remember how her folks were and Rain,”

“Rain remembers the truth.” Ian replied. “This is a fucked up way to do it.” He smiled taking another drink. “You remember that old key and tube that Esme found in that tomb? Wonder what happened to them.”

Val’s hand slipped into his pocket to his keyring, where he kept the old key that Esme had given him to protect. Esme, he thought with an internal sigh, where are you? He could die happy if just to see her smile again.

“What do you think’s going to happen?” He asked as the announcer continued to talk, detailing the history of the house, going into Laroux’s part in the nightmare all the way back to the Native American legends about the land and in the background they could see Sophia spin on her heal, storming up into the trailer snapping something over her shoulder angrily at Rain before slamming the door behind her. So that’s what it was about, Val thought, Rain wasn’t letting her go inside with her. She was shutting her out.

“Now ladies,” Burke said with a slick smile “you two have been at odds since your shows have started, with jobs occasionally overlapping. Rain, you’ve proven places to be haunted to have Chella go and prove that their not. Chella you’ve gone to places and proven them not haunted only to have Rain prove that they are. Is this an effort to end the feud once and for all?”

Chella smiled easily and laughed. “It’s not a feud Billy, our jobs just overlap from time to time. Reardon though has been… a topic of intense discussion between the two of us. When Rain proposed the idea to me, how could I have said no? Put the nightmares to rest and all that.”

“Rain,” Burke said “what do you have to say to that.”

Rain tore her eyes away from the house, her hand rubbing the place on her leather jacket where the scar on her chest was. “It’s just time, time to end this.”

“Time to end what?” He asked confused, “end the show, the feud, the… Rain?” He asked as she slung her bag over her shoulder and walked towards the gates, her cameraman following. Her hand touched his arm gently and even from the distance Val could make out the words ‘I’m sorry’ cross her lips.

“I guess that’s it,” Chella said. “We’d better get going.” She turned, Dennis following her each of them carring a bag over their shoulders, their own cameraman following them.

In a dramatic fashion the old gates began to swing open slowly before the two women as they stood there and Val and Ian could see Chella’s shoulders shake with laughter thinking it was just a set up. Rain on the other hand stood stoicly, looking at the house silently.

“And here we go folks, remember, we’ll be broadcasting all night until dawn. We’re going live… now.”

Val and Ian watched as the camera view switched to the two live cameras that were going to follow Rain, Chella and Dennis inside and for the first time in a long time, Val found himself praying.


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Melissa Seymour and Matilda Seymour Knight
New York, New York

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Matilda sighed deeply, worried about Melissa. Everything that was going on… she wanted to help her but she wasn’t sure exactly how. She was her twin, her other half and she felt helpless to help her. What could she say? What could she do? Nothing really… only time would heal the wounds that she had, both physical and mental.

She just wished… she wish that she could just let it go.

The past was the past, why couldn’t she see that? Why couldn’t she understand that?

She looked out in the backyard through the kitchen window to see the tent that Eric and Erica had errected in the back yard for their camp out. She knew that they’d be okay out there, the yard was fenced in and they lived in a good neighborhood though she still wanted to go out there and check on them… maybe at least bring a tray of cookies and some soda but she shook her head.

They were 9 now… and they were having their special time together. No, if they needed something they’d come in themselves and get it. She’d probably wake up at 1am to hear them down in the kitchen making pizza rolls or something.

Turning she headed towards the stairs and climbed them up to the second floor, her knuckles rapping lightly on Melissa’s door and she paused a moment before opening it, seeing her twin curled up on her bed looking at her laptop. The look on Melissa’s face told Matilda what she was looking at, she didn’t need to ask.

“Hey,” Matilda said. “You busy?”

Melissa shook her head and closed the laptop cutting off the scene she’d been watching for the millionth time. She’d watched it so many times she knew every second of it, every detail. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” she replied. “I just thought I’d come and see how you’re doing.”

“I’m not made of glass,” Melissa replied curtly. “I’m not going to break if you bring it up.”

It, Matilda thought knowing what she was referring to. “I didn’t come to talk about that.” Her hand ran through her long hair and she sat down on the edge of the bed. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot today, about when we were young.”

“About Reardon,” Melissa said matter of factly. “So have I. It’s like… this nagging feeling in the back of my head that I can’t seem to get rid of.”

“Yeah,” Matilda replied. “Same here… I heard that Rain and Chella were doing a TV special on it, some live broadcast but I really didn’t want to watch it.”

“Same,” Melissa said. “I don’t want to go back there, Matilda. I don’t ever want to go back there but… I keep feeling like someday that we’re going to have to. I feel like it’s infected my life, you know? All this bad shit that keeps happening to me?”

“It’s just a house,” Matilda replied. “You can’t blame it for what’s happened to you. It’d be easier to blame it, blame something, than to accept the fact that it all just… happened.”

“You come here to microshrink me?” Melissa asked, raising an eyebrow, propping herself up on her pillows. “I didn’t come here for,”

“I don’t care why you came here,” Matilda replied taking her sister’s hand “and I’m not trying to get into your head and be your psychitrist. You’re my twin. I just want to be here for you, no matter what.”

Melissa found a half smile come to her face and she leaned forward, suddenly wrapping her sister in a tight hug. “I love you,” she said softly in her ear “I know I don’t say it enough,”

“You say it enough,” Matilda said with tears in her eyes. “Besides, you don’t need to say it for me to know it. You’re my twin. You don’t have a choice, you have to love me. It’s like a twin law or something.” She left Melissa laugh gently in her ear. “It is, or at least that’s what Erica said this morning when Eric took the last Pop Tart.”

Melissa just hugged her sister tightly, images of Reardon playing in her head, images of the video mixing in for added measure. There was so much darkness in the world, so much evil, so much sorrow and pain… and yet here, with her sister, as bad as it still seemed with her sister at her side it didn’t seem QUITE so bad. She felt a little braver, a little stronger, the darkness not quite so overwhelming.

“So Oliver and I were going play a game of Scrabble,” Matilda said breaking the hug finally. “Do you want to join us?”

“Are you kidding me?” Melissa said with a laugh. “With the words you two one up with I don’t have a snow balls chance in hell.”

“Well we could play Go Fish if that’s more your speed, maybe Old Maid. I’m sure the twins have a deck that we could use.”

Melissa laughed again. “Oh my God, I hate you. That’s so unfair.”

“Love you too,” Matilda replied. “Come on, get out of this room and away from your computer, at least for a few hours. You can pick the game if you don’t want to play Scrabble.” Lord, isn’t that what old people did in rest homes? Was she really getting that old?

Melissa thought about it for a few seconds before finally nodding. “Okay, fine.” She swung her legs out of bed and stretched. “Monolopy.”

Matilda laughed. “I think you’d have better luck at Scrabble. Oliver is ruthless.”

“Oh yeah?” Melissa said hopping to her feet. “Well he’s about to meet the master. I never loose Monopoly and you want to know why?” She looked at Matilda who raised an eyebrow at her. “Because I have a secret weapon.”

“What’s that?” Matilda asked.

“You of course,” she said. “Us against the world, remember? When you start mortgaging properties you’ll sell them to me for a dollar. Oliver won’t stand a chance.” She winked at her sister and the two of them disolved into laughter heading out of the bedroom, the mood greatly lightened and headed down to the study where Oliver was going to be sorrily disapointed after laying out Scrabble however both of them had that dull ache in the back of their minds whispering the same name.

Reardon.

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Evan Sullivan
Las Vegas, Nevada

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The roar of the softail cut thru the night, the Harley machine streaking down the road. Evan handled the bike well, his eyes clear and sharp behind his helmet. He wanted to take off his helmet and feel the wind in his hair, but this late at night, he didnt want to risk it. One serious fall without his helmet and they'd be sopping up his brain off the road with a dry mop.

At any rate, he was home now. He leaned over, turning the bike into a tight curve, and slowed down as he drove up his driveway.

As he dismounted, he gazed at his home with a sense of pride, smiling in the early twilight. He had built this place, had put blood, sweat and tears into it, and now he shared it with his son.

The garage door opened smoothly as he pulled into his garage, and he took off his helmet with a sigh, shaking out his hair. He leaned his motorcycle over on its kickstand, running a covetous hand over its sleek metal frame.

He closed the garage door behind him as he entered his house, tossing his jacket over the back of a chair. "Trevor!" Evan called, looking at the stack of bills on the counter, "Trevor, you home?"

"In the living room, dad." Trevor called back.

"Big surprise there," Evan said under his breath. The living room was were he kept his TV, and Trevors newfangled video game system. Evan remembered a time when a video game controller only had five buttons.

Evan grabbed a bottle of V8 Splash from the fridge, gulping it down as he walked into the living room. He gazed with affection at his son, slumped on the couch, eyes glued to the TV.

"Hey kiddo, how was your day?" Evan asked, scooching his son over so he could sit down on the couch.

"It was allright," Trevor said, smiling at his dad, "kinda boring, though."

Evan laughed, "get used to it, kiddo, you got a few more years of school left." He looked at the TV, frowning, "what the hell are you watching?"

"I have no idea," Trevor said simply, "but there was nothing else on."

"five hundred channels and nothing on," Evan shook his head, "well, put in one of your games, then."

Trevor brightened visibly, "yea? Would you play with me?"

Evan hesitated, he hadn't picked up a video game since Mike Tysons Punch-Out, and would likely just embarass himself. But Trevor looked so hopeful, so he sighed, "allright, sure, toss me a controller."

"Awesome!" Trevor said, bounding up out of the chair. He crossed over to the game, a shiny black PS3, and picked up two controllers, tossing one to Evan.

Evan heard the TV before his son turned the channel to start the game, "Coming up next, a brave group of young people attempt to explore the mysteries of the Rea...." BEEP.

The console clicked to life, and the game started. Trevor sat down happily next to his dad, ready to go, but Evan suddenly felt a nagging suspicion in his head.

He felt like he was missing something important, something big, but for the life of him, he couldn't think of what.

Soon, the distraction of the game's explosion and gunfire occupied most of his attention, as it was all he could do to keep up with his son, but the feeling still remained, that he was missing something, or a feeling that something was going to go horribly wrong.



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Aldous Snow
Charleston, West Virginia – Comanche Theatre

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Aldous stepped offstage, grabbing a towel that a rodie handed him and wiped the sweat off his forehead. He wished that Dylan was here. He’d sent his old friend tickets knowing that he was in town as well as backstage passes but he’d yet to see him. Aldous couldn’t explain it reallty. Time and again Dylan disapeared without a word, never left a forwarding address, never left a phone number and yet Aldous never had a problem finding him. It was the damndest thing.

“That was the best one yet,” Aaron said with a smile patting Aldous on the back. Aaron, the man who had in Aldous’s eyes, single handidly recued his career from the shitter. A small overweight man and a die hard fan had talked his record company into doing a ruinion show at the Greek and now here he was, doing a full on tour to the roar of the crowds. “Good show Aldie.”

“Thanks mate,” Aldous replied debating doing another encoure, he’d already done three and decided that no, the show was over. He was nackered and really just needed to take a shower and kick up his feet but there were still people to greet, autographs to be signed. He let Aaron lead him backstage where he smiled and shook the hands of pretty girls, signing breasts and slips of paper as someone appeared handing him a glass of cranberry juice.

What would Jackie think, Aldous wondered, if she came here and found it free of drugs, with no booze to be seen. Better to avoid the temptation alltogether and besides, he found that he wrote better sober and he liked that. In fact, he liked being sober… and he liked the new life that he was molding for hismself. In fact that morning he’d actually gotten up early and run on George’s (his drummer) treadmill for a few miles.

It was hard, staying sober with everything picking up up, but it was worth it. The hardest part of being sober was finding out that Naples wasn’t really his son. The boy that Jackie, his ex, had given birth to. The son that he’d thought was his. The son that he’d raised. It didn’t matter, he told himself. Naples was still his son no matter what anyone said and he’d fight like hell if Jackie ever tried to take away his parrental rights. As a matter of fact, in two weeks he was taking Naples camping (Aaron’s idea – Aldous knew fuck all about camping and had purchased a mobile home for the two of them to stay in.

It took over an hour and a half to finally make his way back to his tour bus, Aaron following him inside and shutting the door behind them.

“You okay?” Aaron asked as Aldie sank down on the sofa, his hand rubbing the old scar on his chest from when he’d been a child and the charm that Gram had made had burst into flames agianst his chest.

“Oye, stop asking me that mate, I’m fine,” Aldous replied rubbing his head feeling as though something was wrong. It was a dull itch in the back of his head in a spot that he couldn’t seem to reach. “I’m just tired.” That was it, he was just tired and thinking of Jakie and Naples always put him in a darker mood. He closed his eyes, knowing that his usual remedy for such a thing was no longer available to him. Or rather yet, it was an option he wouldn’t let himself take, and one that Aaron would stand firm on. Bless his stubborn soul.

“I’m going to lay down a bit,” Aldous said standing up and walking back towards his private suite on the tour bus. Stripping out of his sweat drenched clothing he stepped into the shower, setting the water as cold as he could stand it and stood face turned up in the spray, his hands flat against the side of the shower, his eyes closed until he was actually shivering.

Finally turning off the water he walked out naked and threw himself on top of the king size bed. The next stop on the tour would be Atlanta, Georgia. They’d be there by late morning not that he cared. Aaron took care of all that stuff. Yawning he picked up the remote and turned on Cartoon Network, Spongebob’s insane laugher hitting his ears and he smiled. Naples loved this show.

Slowly, as the show progressed Aldous’s eyes began to drift shut as as iCarly came on he was finally asleep, his mind quickly drifting to oblivion.

It wasn’t oblivion however, he found himself standing in an airport… bloody hell, he told himself… in one of the rows of seats he saw Dylan sitting patiently, plane ticket sticking out of the worn leather bag at his side. Leaving again are you, Aldous thought as he looked around. People passed by him not noticing him in the least and he knew this was a dream. Sometimes dreams were more tiring than reality but every time he had these dreams it told him where Dylan was going.

He walked over to Dylan and looked down at him, he was reading a magizine, an article on Rain it looked like and Aldous felt that itch again. “Why don’t you just go after her mate? Why don’t you stop running?” He asked him but Dylan didn’t move, continuing to read and Aldous looked over at the terminal. Bejing? Are you serious, he thought?

Dylan was always on the move… that was just the way that he was… always running from something he couldn’t put his finger on.

Aldous could though. He was running from Rain.

Running from blame.

From his inability to protect her back at… Aldous’s hand went to his temple as he winced, a violent pain jolting through him and his eyes shot open.

Gasping for air Aldous sat up, his head pounding violently and he sat up as there was a knock at the door. “What?” He asked, his voice carring the irritation that he was feeling along with it. His hands fumbled for the nightstand table where he found a bottle of children’s asprin. iCarly was still on TV, he hadn’t been asleep that long. Tossing three of them in his mouth he threw the bottle back into the drawer.

“You okay?” Aaron’s voice came and the door cracked open, the man’s pudgy face appearing and looking concerned. Aldous smiled thinking of Val and feeling a sudden urge to drop everything at go to Vegas.

“I’m fine,” Aldie replied. “Just a headache, just need some sleep is all.” Sleep… something that he was having a hard time getting lately. What he wouldn’t give for a few little blue pills to bring him into Mother Sleep’s arms… again something he denied himself. “I say anything?” He asked not bothering to hide his nakedness. Lord knew he wasn’t embarressed by it and it was nothing Aaron hadn’t seen before and more.

Aaron shoot his head. “Not that I could make out, it was more like… a cry for help or something, I don’t know.”

Aldous was quiet for a few moments before shrugging and waving his hand at Aaron. “I’m fine, no worries mate.” He reached over as Aaron nodded, shutting the door and grabbed his mobile setting it to silent before laying back down, the phone still in his hand. Damn, he thought watching iCarly, she sure was cute… was she 18 yet? If she was… he smiled closing his eyes and drifting to sleep imagining the cute 18 year old on top of him, perky little breasts in his hands.

This dream…. This dream he liked.

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LadyRahl
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Esme Pendelton
LAX – Final Approach

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“Oh God in Heaven, you didn’t,” Miranda said trying to stiffle a laugh.

“You bet I did,” Esme replied sipping on her glass of champagne. “He got what he deserved. He was going to rape me.”

“Oh I don’t know about that,” she said. “Phillipe,”

“Miranda,” Esme said looking at her. “Just because he’s a world famous photographer doesn’t mean that he doesn’t have a dark side.” She was quiet for a moment before speaking. “Even your own hero’s can have sides to them that you wish you never knew. Anyway, it’s not like I killed him or anything,” she said with a laugh. “I just broke the asshole’s nose and punched him in the nutsack. Let his wife kiss his ego, I’m done with him.”

“It’s a good thing you’re not new,” Miranda said. “He could ruin you.”

“Yeah, well with his reputation I don’t think I would have to much to worry about.” Esme shrugged. “Normally I wouldn’t have said no but,” her hand drifted to the scar on her chest, the one that was easily covered with makeup “I just wasn’t in the mood. You know how it is.” She wished that she could remember where the scar was from. Her parents had paid for plastic surgery to remove the uneven flesh shortly after they’d adopted her but nothing could be done about the discoloration.

She looked down at her hand at the old ring that she wore on her left hand. It was on her wedding finger, but she wasn’t married. She’d purchased it in an antique store several years ago. She’d been drawn to it, well more drawn to the tin that it was in. Esme could remember opening it and dragging her finger through the old jewlrey in it and it had been almost like an electric shock when she’d touched it. Picking it out gently she’d slipped it on her finger and stared at it for several minutes, transfixed by the ornate pattern etched into the exterior before asking the clerk how much it was. He’d paused, clearly debating the price, her Gucci purse clearly stating that she wasn’t poor but ultimately he’d come up with $200. She’d haggled him down to $125 which he quickly took, probably realizing that no one else would pay that much for the old piece of garbage.

To Esme though, it wasn’t garbage.

It Esme it was… was… something special. A promise to herself to never get married until she found him. It was silly really, she knew that, but that’s how she felt. He was her soulmate. No one could replace him, that’s why her relationships never lasted, because they were never him.

“It’s really kind of pretty,” Miranda said seeing Esme looking at her ring. “I know some of the other girls call it ugly but I think it’s beautiful it it’s own way. I wonder what the symbols and patterns mean.”

“I don’t know,” Esme replied. “Something important, something to do with protection I think… like a spell.” She wasn’t sure what made her say that last bit but she was certain that she was right. She could almost see the spell etched in the brass and gold and since she’d purchased it, for some reason she’d always felt safer.

Suddenly she closed her eyes, rubbing the back of her neck feeling a dull ache in the back of her brain, like a dog scratching at a door trying to get out, or in. “Miranda?” She asked “Have you ever just…”

“Just what?” Miranda asked. “Esme what is it?”

“Have you ever felt like,” she looked at her friend “have you ever felt like you’ve forgotten something? Something you wished that you hadn’t forgotten?” Esme sighed again, twisting the ring on her finger. “My life… my parents…” she shook her head and picked up her iPhone which was sitting on the table between them. Checking the time she drained the last of her champagne and then refilled the glass, taking another drink. “I’m just being stupid.”

Miranda laughed. “You’re not stupid, you’re the smartest woman I know.”

“That’s not saying much,” Esme replied with a snort. “Look at our profession.”

“Hey now,” she said and the two women laughed. Miranda looked out the window, “how long do you think we’ve been circling?”

“I don’t know,” Esme said “fourty five, fifty minutes… but who cares, we still have half a bottle,” she said and refilled both their glasses.

“This is your captain speaking,” said the deep voice over the speakers “looks like we’re going to be circling a little longer. Emergency services have been contacted for a passenger who had a heart attack on the runway. I’ll keep you updated as I hear more. Don’t worry about fuel though, we’ve got enough in reserves to circle a while longer.”

“Well that’s good at least,” Miranda said “I should call Orlando and tell him what’s going on. He was going to meet me at the gate.”

“Gotta love star service,” Esme replied. “9-11 protocal doesn’t apply to movie stars and models… not sure if that’s a good thing or not.” She said thoughtfully. It really was amazing all of the exceptions that stars and models could get away with, the wild nights, the drugs, alcohol, special treatment… all all the free bling. That’s what bothered her the most really.

It wasn’t like she couldn’t afford to buy her own clothing or purses or shoes or jewlrey or whatever she needed, but designers sent her free things all of the time. In fact, out of everything that she had on the only thing she had actually purchased herself was her ring. She knew why they did it though, and it made sense. Free publicity for their lines and products. Stars would wear them and people would want them just because they wore them. It was hontesly quite sad. Not for the first time she told herself that she’d buy all her clothing from now on, but that never seemed to last long…. Unless she got something in the mail that was just… weird.

“You know,” she said “we should really start an ebay account.” She sipped her champagne thoughtfully “auction off all that crap that we get that we don’t use, or stuff that we’ve only worn or used once or twice… donate it to charity. We could get other people to participate too, could do a lot of people good. Donate the proceeds to women’s shelters, abused shelters… I think Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt can take care of the rest of the world.” The two women laughed easily. They were good people and Esme adored them both dearly. Even they would donate, she knew that.

Miranda nodded, “and Orlando’s got enough of his own crap to throw in too. So that’s what, five in the party so far? I’m sure we can recruit more. Lilo’s a hoarder, help her with that.”

Esme snorted. “Lilo,” she said taking a sip. That’s what Perez Hilton called Lindsey Lohan… which embarresingly enough, she too read his gossip site. To her it was just some harmless fun. If you can’t poke fun at yourself and take some flack then you shouldn’t be in the fame business. “You should to maternity modeling, seriously. You look fabulous.”

“You think?” Miranda asked, running a hand over her barely swelling belly. “It’s weird, knowing that I’m going to be gaining weight and not caring about it.”

“Hell girl,” Esme said rubbing her neck again, that ache still there “I say eat all the pickels and icecream that you want. Pork it up and see how big you can get.” The two women laughed and Esme finished her drink standing up. The floor was a little unsteady under her feet and she wasn’t sure if it was from the slight turbulance that they were going through or the champagne that she’d been drinking liberally since leaving Cabo.

Walking into the bathroom she opened the bottle of asprin and dumped four of them into her hand, downing them with a handful of water before cupping her hands and splashing it over her face. A headache was one thing, but this… this wasn’t a headache and she wanted it to go away.

Lowering thetoilet seat she sat down on it, resting her elbows on her knees and pressing her face into her hands. Miranda was so lucky, a handsome movie star husband, a baby on the way… everything that Esme wanted, and none of it she could have. No, it wasn’t that she wanted the movie star husband, she just wanted him…the man of her dreams. The boy with the pudgy hand, the boy with the laugh, the smile, the beautiful eyes… the boy from the Before Time.

She laughed into her hands the Before Time, it sounded so melodramatic and in a way it was. It was a time before the Pendleton’s. It was a time where bad things had happened. It was a time that she had chosen to shut out, close off and never remember again. A time that still haunted her dreams, but that thankfully she never remembered when she woke up in a cold sweat, a scream on her lips at the edge of panic and if there was someone in bed with her it led to wild mindless sex that she could lose herself in and forget about everything.

Eventually there was a knock on the door and Miranda’s worried voice “You okay hon?”

“I’m fine,” Esme said standing up. “Just to much champagne. You drink to slow.”

“I’m pregnant,” Miranda replied with a smile as Esme opened the door. “Drinking is pretty much forbidden.”

“All the more for me then,” Esme said as the two women returned to their seats, the aircraft banking as it turned again, the champagne in Esme’s glass moving with it and she picked it up drinking it all, refilling with what was left in the bottle. “Cheers to wedded bliss and babies,” she clinked Miranda’s glass of water that she had switched to which Esme had been in the bathroom.

“Only if you’ll promise to be the godmother,” Miranda said raising an eyebrow.

To that Esme smiled and nodded. “You bet your pregnant ass on it.”

As Esme took a drink she rubbed the back of her neck again. Jet lag maybe? Fuck it, a few more glasses and she was sure it’d go away completely. She’d go home, call Gabriel, get a good hard fuck and with luck, pass out with this nagging ache being nothing more than a distant memory.

He was gorgeous… flawless… great body… smart… the perfect partner except for one little thing.

He wasn’t him.


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Dylan Wells
Yeager Airport, Terminal 23 - Charleston

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What the bloody hell had happened, Dylan asked himself for the hundreth time. He was sitting in the terminal at Yeager Airport in Charleston, West Virginia, magizene in hand, eyes staring at the page. He’d bought it because of Rain, an indepth personal interview. It was more of an interview over her life, briefly mentioning the loss of her son (since when had she had a son) and her constantly single status. Tabloid gossip really in his opinion, but he always bought them.

Right now however, he was just staring at her photo, his mind elsewhere.

How do you even explain that sort of thing?

On the way to the airport traffic on the 101 sitting in the back of the taxi he’d been thrown to the side as the cab had suddenly swerved to avoid hitting another car. The next few seconds were really nothing but a blur of hard impacts, crushing metal and shattering glass. Then the smell of gasoline.

Clearing his eyes of the haze wanting nothing more than to get the hell out of Charleston he leaned forward, reaching for a pulse on the drivers neck, his fingers coming back slick with blood. The man was dead. Cursing under his breath he tried to open his door finding it impossible, a Chevy Impala having crushed it in and he kicked out the window, climbing out, dragging his usual duffle bag with him. It was the usual fare after an accident, people moaning and crying and then a WHOOSH as the gas from however many ruptured gas tanks, and thank you God, a gas tanker, burst into flames.

Dozens of people ran out of the way of the fire, fighting their way out of their vehicles and Dylan too had been heading out of the melee until he’d heard a woman screaming, screaming for her baby. He’d stopped and turned and seen her hammering at the window as the car caught fire engulfing the exterior of the vehicle forcing the mother back as she continued to scream for help.

What were another few scars Dylan thought, tossing his bag onto the sidewalk before running over the hoods of the cars, flames dancing around his feet and as he approached, the flames around the vehicle seemed to disapate. Well not really disapate, but more like… change direction and he slammed into the window with his elbow as hard as he could not bothering to think why it had happened. Pulling his knife from his pocket he cut the childs restraints and pulled the child free, grabbing the mother and pulling them both to safety as before them, the flames parted like the red sea.

He’d been gone before the police and medical teams had arrived.

That whole area though, he thought, it had all been in flames. There had been gas everwhere so why… why had it just… parted like that? Crazier things had happened he supposed. Perhaps God hadn’t wanted the mother and child to die. God, he thought with a scoff, what God?

Dylan leaned back in the hard seat in the terminal pulling his ticket out of his leather bag and looking at it.

Bejing, China… maybe a fresh start.

Of course he wasn’t supposed to leave the state, let alone the country but he’d never been one to stick for the rules of his probation. How long are you going to run, he asked himself and as always never knowing the answer. Probably forever. He closed his eyes, sliding the ticket back in the pocket. He wanted nothing more than to go to her, fall into her, touch her, kiss her… forget the rest of the world but she deserved so much more than what he had to offer which was absolutely nothing other than a shitload of baggage. No, he thought looking back at the article. She deserved so much more.

So much more.

He remembered the taste of her lips, the feel of her body against his, the way that she’d trembled when he’d slid into her until… until he’d come. All things considered, it had been a fair enough fight, the teen against a grown man but it hadn’t been enough and had almost cost her her life. All to well he could remember the feeling of her skin, slick with blood, the sensation of it soaking into the front of his shirt, his jeans…

Pulling himself out of his daze he carefully put the magizine into the back pocket of his bag and got up, slinging the strap over his shoulder and walking over to the bar.

“What can I get for ya?” The bartender asked wiping down the bartop. It must be the only airport left in the US where there was a place to drink or eat inside the terminal. Playing on the television in the corner was some show host blathering on, people milling about in the background.

Dylan didn’t pay it much attention, it was probably just the local news. “Just a beer,” he said taking a seat at the bar, forking over a $20 and getting a pittance back. Bloody airports charged an arm and a leg just to breathe in them. He shoved the change back into his pocket, giving the man a few bucks for a tip and wrapped his hands around the glass.

He stared at the amber liquid inside thoughtfully. He was tired, he had to admit it to himself, tired of running away… away from the past, away from her when all he wanted to do was run TO her. It was felt like he was swimming against the current of the ocean at times. Closing his eyes he suddenly felt a pair of hands on his shoulders which ran down his arms, the faint scent of perfume coming to his nose and he felt a woman’s body pressing against his back, her head on his shoulder.

“I’ve missed you D,” said the familiar voice and he turned, opening his eyes to see Rain’s head on his shoulder. “I need you, more than you know I need you.”

Dylan sat there frozen, looking at her. How had she found him? What was she doing here?

“It wasn’t your fault, what happened back in the house. You need to stop running away from it, from the past, from me.” She let out a sigh, her breath smelling fresh, like wildflowers.

“Rain… I,”

“It doesn’t matter D, not any more,” she said. “The past is the past and we’ve all made mistakes. Right now though, I need you to do something for me.” Her lips pressed against the side of his neck gently.

“Anything,” he whispered back, his heart skipping at beat at the old sensation. “Anything for you.”

“I need you to wake up,” she said with a whistful sigh. “I need you to wake up and come to me.” Her lips brushed against his ear gentle. “Wake up Dylan… wake up.”

Dylan’s eyes shot open and he sat bolt upright in his seat, no longer at the bar but in his seat at the terminal, the magizene still in his hands, the ticket to Bejing still sticking out of his leather bag’s pocket. With a frown he looked over to where the bar was, or had been at least, only to find a row of payphones where it had been and the men and women’s bathrooms.

What the bloody hell was going on?



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Bobby Flowler
LAX

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Bobby walked down the hallway, pulling his small rolling suitcase with him as he rubbed the back of his neck. For the last few hours he’d had this dull ache in the back of his head that was driving him nuts. They’d circled again and again, waiting for medical personal to treat and remove the critical patient from the runway and had been running on fumes by the time that they had finally landed, though they hadn’t let their passangers know that. There really hadn’t been a reason.

Of course another twenty minutes and there definitely would have been.

“You think that guy’s gonna be okay,” asked John, Bobby’s copilot.

“Yeah,” Bobby replied. “EMT got to him as fast as they could and he was still breathing when they left the tarmac.” He followed John’s gaze to their two passangers, both had their backs to them. The brunette one was hugging the actor Orlando Bloom who was covering her in kissed and the blonde touched her shoulder, politely excusing herself and heading down to baggage claim by the looks of it.

Bobby usually didn’t do private flights like this one had been, but with the economy and budget cutbacks at Delta… an occasional side job really helped. He had no idea who they were, not bothering to look at the passanger manifest. All he knew was that they were high profile models and the job paid a pretty penny.

For some reason he felt the sudden urge to go after the blonde, who was a little unsteady on her feet and grab her. It was the most inexplicible thing really, this sudden desire to wrap his arms around her and hold her tight.

“You okay man,” John asked looking at the expression on Bobby’s face and there was a sudden boom from outside as lightning crackled across the sky. “What the hell?” John said going to the window. “Reports said that it was supposed to be a clear day.” Dark clouds were quickly rolling in, flashing with lightning as though Zeus himself lived in them. Not a single drop of rain fell, but the lightning…

“Jesus,” Bobby said joining him at the window in no hurry to get to the hotel where he’d be staying the next few nights before heading out again, this time to home where he was going to be taking a few weeks off. He watched as one of the 747s taxied out on the runway getting ready to take flight when several bolts suddenly arced down towards the earth. Two of them landed in the grass beside the airplan but the rest, Jesus Christ the rest hit the plane itself and it just… exploded.

Chaos ensued on the runway as emergency vehicles surged onto the runway heading towards the ruined shell of what had once been an airplane. More lightning arced through the now dark sky and Bobby could only stand there and watch, helpless, knowing that only moments before his jet had been in the exact same spot. There were two more explosions from the plane as the gas tanks errupted, throwing already charred bodies up into the air and he closed his eyes, unable to watch as they hit the ground, exploding on impact in a shower of chared gore. “Come on man,” he said grabbing John’s arm. “There’s nothing we can do.”

“No rain,” John said turning and walking with Bobby. “Not a fucking drop. Just that fucking lightning.”

The two walked in silence for several minutes as people rushed about them, mostly passangers in a complete panic no longer wanting to fly, or to see how long their flights would be postponed. People were funny that way. They either cared, got scared, or just didn’t give a damn being completely self centered pricks. Bobby wasn’t sure which category he fell into. It wasn’t that he didn’t care or didn’t give a damn it was just… there was nothing that he could do. He closed his eyes as the windows rattled, another boom of thunder rolling through the air.

“I need a drink,” Bobby said stripping out of his pilot’s uniform, draping it over the rolling suitcase and John nodded in agreement, doing the same thing. They were off duty, there was nothing stopping them but Bobby paused just outside the entrance to the bar, blinking, staring at the little girl standing before him. She couldn’t have been any more than 10 and she looked at him with old eyes, wise eyes… eyes that knew him. “Hey sweetie, we should get you back to your Mom,” he said gently reaching out taking her arm and he cried out as images flashed through his head.

It felt as though his head was exploding inside his own skull, or maybe imploding, he wasn’t sure. They flashed quickly through his mind, repeating again and again watching as the little girl, Juliette, was claimed by the house, watching as Mickey was claimed by the house… he looked at his hands, slick with blood and he scrambled backwards, dropping the suitcase, a scream caught in his throat.

“It’s time Bobby,” Juliette said looking at him. “I’m sorry that it hurt, but I had to do it. You needed to be opened.”

“Opened?” He said, his voice a bare croaking whisper. “Opened for what?”

“To see the truth of course silly,” she said with a laugh and looked over her shoulder. “I have to go before the master notices I’m gone. I’m sorry Bobby, the next time we meet, we won’t be friends.” The airport spun around him violently and when everything steadied he found John kneeling down beside him.

“Did you see that,” Bobby asked grabbing his friends arm.

“See what?” John asked. “Dude, you just… collapsed.” His eyes looked around the area as though trying to see what Bobby had been talking about. Several people were watching them but nothing seemed out of the ordinary outside of the chaos that was currently going on. All he noticed was that the lightning storm had seemed to end and the sky was clearing up. The arrivals and departures screens were all flashing ‘delayed’but there was nothing suprising about that.

“The girl,” Bobby said. “Juliette.”

“There’s no girl,” John replied. “Like I said you just kind of, cried out and fell.”

Bobby slowly regained his feel, his head throbbing wildly and he shook it. “Scratch the drink man,” he said pulling his cell phone out of his pocket and turning it on, something that he normally didn’t do until he was at his hotel but for some reason did at that moment. “I just want to lay down.”

“Come on,” John said steadying him. “Let’s get down to the shuttles.”

Bobby nodded, swallowing hard, an acidic taste in his mouth as the two of them headed away from the bar and towards the shuttle area. His feet felt unsteady under him as he walked but with each step they grew more and more certain. All of this…. All of this had happened for a reason, a display of power, or so it seemed and he looked back through the windowed walls at the sky and in the clearing clouds he could almost see a dark smile and in the back of his mind hear the sound of laughter and his skin crawled.

He hadn’t felt that feeling in 25 years.

Looking at his phone he slipped it back into his pocket with a sigh. Just his mind playing tricks on him, that’s all it had been but he couldn’t get her words out of his head.

“You needed to be opened… the next time we meet, we won’t be friends.”

Opened? He wondered as he and John walked quickly down the hallway. Opened for what?
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Rain Petrov, Chella Williams, Denis Eng
Midlothian, IL – Reardon Hall

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The door swung open easily before them. Rain had extended her hand out to push it open but it had swung open on its own, captured of course on video causing her cameraman to grin in excitement. He loved his job. It paid well and around Rain, well cool things just seemed to happen around her when they were investigating.

“Dennis,” Chella said “are you recording?”

“I got a minor flux of something,” Dennis said, his fingers on his reading device. It registered many things all at the touch of his sensitive fingers. “I’ll take a reading once we’re inside. Could be motion detectors.”

“It’s not motion dectectors,” Rain said “can’t you feel it Chella? It’s like my skin is burning.”

“Mind over matter,” Chella said with a smile, “come on.” She stepped through the threshold first, closly followed by Dennis and their cameraman. There was no denying the sudden sensation of ‘weight’ once inside the home but she’d felt that before and it could be explained away. “Over here is where we made that circle I was telling you about,” she said leading Dennis gently by the elbow to the livingroom. There was no trace of salt on the floor, nor the burn marks that had ‘polluted’ it.

“You don’t have to come,” Rain said looking at Mark, her cameraman. “You can stay here. I can’t protect you inside.”

“You’ve done fine so far,” Mark replied with a smile. “Let’s do this.”

Rain nodded closing her eyes, hand on her chest over the covered scar and she walked into the house, Mark following her. Looking at the floor where Archie Laroux’s body had fallen she shivered, remembering how the blood had pooled, spread like hers had, guided by the house and she could feel the house around them, breathing, waiting.

It happened as soon as Mark entered after her, the door slamming shut with a violent boom causing them all to jump and there seemed to be a crackle of power in the air. “Oh God,” Rain whispered quickly heading towards Chella and Dennis. “We should go, this was a bad idea. I’m sorry Chella, we need to get out of here.” She turned, looking over her shoulder seeing Laroux standing there in the doorway, grinning at her. With a long dead finger he pointed at her and she gasped in pain, falling to the floor, clutching her chest.

“Rain?!?” Chella cried falling to her knees beside her.

“Look out!” Rain yelled as a ball of yellow energy formed at his fingertip. “Dennis,”

“Dennis, are you picking anything up?” Chella asked.

“I’m picking up massive electrical currents,” he said, fingers dancing over the read outs. “They’re coming from all over the,” he grunted suddenly and fell to his knees, hands covering his eyes. It felt like something had hit him square in the chest, driving all the wind from his lungs. Tears, no, they weren’t tears, he could tell by the copper tastes as they ran down his cheeks, grazing his lips slightly and he wiped at his face furiously. From his pocket he pulled out a handkerchief, wiping off the bloody tears and looked down at the red stain on the fabric.

Not really a red stain, but he could see… well, he could sort of see. Speachless he turned his head around the room. He was no longer surrounded by the inky blackness of which he’d always had but instead everything seemed… outlined in red. He knew it was red because his mother had always described red as an angry color and the house… it ‘looked’ angry. He blinked, reaching out and picking up his pad, fingers running along the outline of it, seeing where his fingers where. “Chella,” he said, his voice a bare whisper. “I can,”

“Get down!” Rain yelled suddenly grabbing Chella by the front of the shirt and yanking her down to the ground with her and Dennis as the room seemed to explode around them. Mark and Chella’s cameraman both screamed in pain, the camera’s torn from their hands and flying through the air, their bodies slamming against the far walls of the room, long gashes appearing through their clothing drawing blood.

“What’s happening?” Chella screamed through the chaos.

“Fresh blood… the master requires fresh blood.” The words screamed in Rain’s ears in defeaning volume.

Rain covered her ears against the voice, and the subsequent laughter. “Fresh blood,” she said looking at Chella. “The house,” she looked up at the two cameramen, the cameras flying wildly in the air as the men screamed in pain, more and more gashes forming on their faces and arms, on their chest and torsos until their innards tumbled out of their bodies, splattering on the floor. “I’m so sorry!” She screamed. “Sophia!” She screamed over the noise as red orbs of dark spirits began to slam through the air around. “You need to,”

That was the last the public heard, and saw as the cameras exploded into a thousand fragments pelting the three of them in painful pricks and Chella suddenly screamed, a burst of energy coming from her surging outwards. The two bodies slumped to the floor in two matching puddles of gore and Rain looked over to where she had seen Laroux standing.

“She can’t deny us anymore,” he said. “Interesting though… her gift, though it won’t help you. Not against him. Still though… interesting. Welcome back Rain, been waiting for you… need to finish what we started.” With that he was gone, disapearing into nothing.

“What… what was that?” Chella gasped, sitting back, looking at the ruined bodies. She hadn’t seem him, or heard him. That was Rain’s gift. To see, to hear, to listen.

Rain suddenly laughed and unzipped her leather jacket, throwing it to the side onto the sofa as the room shimmered, returning back to its pristine state. It was only then Chella could see the scars on her, the poisoned look to them that seemed to spiderweb out from the initial cut. “So that’s why you never find anything,” she said.

“I can see,” Dennis whispered looking at the bodies, more like the outlines of the bodies, of the blood glad that though he could see he couldn’t see in detail.

“What do you mean why I couldn’t find anything,” Chella said, tears in her eyes. “Rain, what’s going on?”

“The house,” Rain said, “it always wanted us back, all of us. When we left, we took a piece of it with us, at least that’s what Gram says. Each holding a different bit, though some of us carried more.” She said clearly talking about the poisonous looking scars on her chest and neck. “You can drive them away, at least for a little while. That’s what that last explosion was, it was from you. You deflected them, sent them away for a while.”

“This makes no sense,” Chella said. “There has to be a rational explaination,”

“Try to leave,” Rain said. “It won’t let you, just like before.”

“If you knew this was going to happen why the fuck didn’t you lay down the protection spells?” Chella snarled at her, furious. If she’d known that this would happen,

“Because this needs to end,” Rain said. “I’m sorry Chella, and I’m sorry Dennis, especially Dennis. You weren’t supposed to be here.” She stood up and walked to the window where she could see the reporting team on the street scrambling about like ants on honey. “I can’t carry this inside me anymore,” she said looking to Chella, her eyes stinging with tears. “We need to finish this… but I’m afraid… I’m afraid that it won’t be enough this time. Something’s different… something bad.” She shuddered violently and could almost feel the poisoned scar twitch on her chest and neck. “Let’s just hope that Sophia does what she needs to do.”

“And what the hell is that?” Chella asked.

Rain looked at her and sat down on the sofa, looking tired. “Get the others,” she said simply. “Until then… stay away from me.” She reached into the bag that she’d brough which surprizingly enough to Chella didn’t hold any investigation equipment, at least nothing tradition and she tossed a large container of salt to Chella. “You might be able to deflect them, but I attract them. Like flies to honey… and there’s something strong here.”

“Rain,”

“Just do it,” she said. “Right now, all we can do is wait.”

“Wait for what, the others?” Chella asked holding the salt.

“For the other pieces of the puzzle,” Rain said quietly. “For the other pieces.” Her fingers ran over her facem her eyes tired. “There’s protection charms in there too, you might want those.”

“What about you?” Chella asked still confused, trying desperatly to find a logical explination for everything. “Rain,”

“I carry the poison inside me,” Rain said. “Didn’t Gram ever tell you that? There was no blood infection… there was the house, it’s always been the house, carry it with me where ever I go. They won’t work on me. Let’s just hope that they’re not to far away. Let’s just hope.”

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Sophia Richards
Midlothian, IL – RP: Uncensored Trailer

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Sophia listed to the chaos outside. She’d seen everything that they had seen, and eveything had broadcasted live until the cameras exploded and yet even now, there was some sort of feed coming from the house that was broadcasted. It was grainy, the sound was hard to make out… but the power from the house…

She walked over to the small window in the door of the trailer looking at the house.

The house was broadcasting the signal. Energy was energy she supposed, but she didn’t give it much thought. All she could think about were Rain, Chella and Dennis, trapped inside that damned place. They’d laid no protection spells outside the doors like Rain usually did when she went into a place.

Why?

God Rain, why?

Occasionally someone would pound on the door yelling at her, asking what to do but she ignored them. It was out of her hands. It was out of any of their hands. There was nothing that anyone out here could do. It was only inside the house where anything could be done and Rain had insisted… no… ordered, demanded that Sophia stay out here.

Picking up her phone she dialed Rain’s mobile, she always had it on her and she listened to it ring, watching the snowy image of the three people talking inside the home, Rain’s shoulder’s slumped… tired… or heavy with the weight of what she was doing, she wasn’t sure.

Sorry Sophia, said a familiar voice as Rain’s voicemail picked up Rain can’t answer the phone right now. You’ve turned into a pretty little morsel. The Master will be glad for you, he’ll swallow your soul and then your body… that’ll be mine and how I’ll make you,

Sophia snapped shut the phone cutting off the voice that she knew was Archie Laroux. Public records said that his body had been taken out of the house but she knew better. No one had set foot in Reardon since they’d been in there so many years ago. The house, it had absorbed them. A shudder ran through her body at the thought and she turned, looking at the small white envelope that Rain had shoved in her hand.

“If anything happens,” Rain had said. It had been the last words that she’d said to her.

Sophia sank down at the row of monitors, right now the station was trying desperatly to change the shot to something other than the gorey room. She could make out the flickers as they attempted trick after trick but the house wouldn’t let them.

Fuck, she thought, it’s gotten stronger.

With her finger she tore open the envelope and pulled out the small card, a perfectly folded piece of paper falling to the desktop. She flicked open the card and read, her other hand turning the folded paper around in her fingers.

Sophia,

If you’re reading this then things have gone bad, maybe worse than I expected that they would. I can’t say that I knew that this wouldn’t happen but when we were kids, we started something, something I can’t explain but it’s something that has to end.

I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings when I made you go back to the trailer, but I needed you to this for me. For us, all of us. When you see the paper, you’ll understand what to do and why.

Rain


Sophia set down the small card and unfolded the paper looking at what had been written on it. With a sigh, she popped a toothpick in her mouth and ran her hand through her hair. “Jesus wept,” she said quoting from the original Hellraiser. Everyone was on it. Everyone.

Evan.

Bobby.

Mellisa and Matilda.

Dylan…. Everyone… and beside their names, were phone numbers.

The message was clear. She didn’t need it painted out for any more clearly than it already was. Call them, gather them, and get them back to the house to end what they’d started. Glancing up at the monitor she saw Archie Laroux’s smiling face for a brief moment, startling her and causing her to gasp almost choking on her toothpick.

Sophia sighed and picked up her phone, which felt oddly soiled and began to dial the first number.



~*~*~*~*~*~*~*End Scene~*~*~*~*~*~*~*







Mod Note:


Okay so there’s the scene. I appologize that it took so long to get up. Basically Sophia will be calling each of your characters to let them know what’s happened and ask them to come. You do NOT have to wait for Cale to personally post the phone call if you feel up to posting it yourself. Cale, if you want to post the phone call, I ask that you PM the player/s and work with them and it get up ASAP.

It will be up to each of your characters to either decide to come back to Reardon and help or not. If you come back, you will all meet at the trailer with Sophia and discuss ways that you can get onto the grounds and also play catchup with what you’ve been doing with your lives if you feel like it. Keep in mind there are film crews around so it’ll be up to you if you want to do a public entrance in front of the cameras with security trying to stop you or if you want to try to sneak in somewhere else. Depending on what you post, I may or may not let you do it yourself or save it for the next scene. Right now, no one can contact Rain/Chella/Dennis inside the house… you’ll just get some fucked up voice mail if you do try to call them.



I’m sure that you’ve all been waiting to see what your ‘powers’ will be. So here they are. Some of them might seem useless but none of them are. They’ve all been carefully chosen and assigned to you. Bitch and die. :P



Melissa/Matilda – They need each other to make the power/s work, like two halfs to a whole. Melissa can enhance a protection circle to extend to fill an entire room if that’s what they want to do. Matilda can draw spirits into a circle, good or bad depending on what she wants and hold them there. The spirits can’t harm either one of them but could others.

Aldous Snow - Locator. He can mentally find other people from Reardon all over the globe if he wants to badly enough, that’s how he actually finds Dylan from time to time. (will come in handy when they get back to the house and go on separate missions)

Dylan Wells - Pyrokinesis. This one is fine, same as you said he needs an existing spark or fire but he lacks the ability to direct it, only enhance it.

Ian Shepard – He can create a spiritual barrier around himself though to allow him to pass through dangerous areas, if he concentrates hard enough and is touching a person he can bring one other with him but it would have to be a short distance.

Val Fiorentino - Spiritual cleansing. He can walk into a room infested with evil ghosts, and can cleanse the room temporarily. He must have total focus to do so, and the more infested the room, the longer it will take. He is completely vulnerable while he does this. It starts off as a bubble around himself and can slowly spread out in no more than a 10’ x 10’ area. Making it this big though will leave him very tired.

Rain Petrov - Spiritual Communication- Rain can talk to ghosts and sense where they are, and can convince them to leave her alone if need be. She can only talk to small groups of ghosts, and this power won’t work on particularly strong ghosts or any demons. It in fact attracts them to her.

Sophia Richards- Illusions – basically make it so that she isn’t there for minor ghosts, can extend to others if they are close enough to her but again, won’t work on major spirits and demons. The more people she tries to hide the harder it is and will begin to waver.


Chella Williams - Spiritual Deflector – keeps ghosts away from her automatically, she doesn’t have to try to do it, she just does. This is why all of the places that she investigates are never haunted. They can’t come within 5-10’ of her depending on how strong they are. Doesn’t work on strong ghosts or demons.

Bobby Fowler- Illusion dispersment. Bobby can see thru the tricks and traps the house can set for them. If the hallway seems to stretch for eternity, Bobby can break that illusion. He cannot break Sophias illusions, unless she lets him, and the stronger the illusion, the more energy he must expend to break it. (I really like this one… leaving it alone)

Evan Sullivan- Misdirection. Evan can confuse ghosts with the power of his mind, or by speaking to them. He can fool a ghost into believing something that is not true like the room being empty even if everybody is in it. He must be able to speak to pull this off, and this will not fool demons. Again, the more people there are the harder it is. It will only work for so long before the ghost will realize the truth. Once he’s convinced a spirit once, he cannot fool it again.

Esme Pendleton – Spell sight/knowledge, she will automatically be able to see spells, even if they are hidden from plain sight and be able to undo them, she cannot unto major spells/demonic spells.
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Shrimp Po'Boy
Evan - When The Shit Hits The Fan

After a couple hours of getting his ass soundly handed to him on a silver platter in Call of Duty 4, Evan sat up alone, unable to sleep. He had a nagging feeling something was wrong but just couldn’t place exactly what it was. He went into the kitchen, pulled a grapefruit out the fridge, cut it and sat at the table, eating it while reading that day’s newspaper. He eventually gave up, walking down the hall and falling into bed, he lay there, staring at his slowly rotating ceiling fan, fear slowly gnawing away at his brain like a rat chewing on wires. Evan rolled out bed and entered his washroom, he splashed water on his face, and went to the kitchen, brewing a pot of coffee and dropping a slice of bread into the toaster. He pulled a jar of orange marmalade out of the fridge, placed out the counter and about jumped out of his skin when the telephone rang. He scooped the cordless up, glancing at the caller ID, which read S. Richards.

“No way,” he muttered. He hit the talk button, “Al’s bar and grill, Jim speaking.”

“Um…I’m sorry, I must have dialed the wrong the number. I’m looking for Evan Sullivan.”

“You’ve got ‘im sweetheart. I just wanted to mess with people. This who I’m thinking it is?”

“Who are you thinking?” the woman on the other end asked, chuckling.

“Sophia Richards from Illinois.”

“Are you psychic or something?”

“Dude….this isn’t a movie. Psychic powers ain’t really hon. I just have caller ID. So what can I do you for? I mean, I haven’t heard from you since, well, shit. Since my dad’s funeral.” That memory caused a lump to rise in Evan’s throat.

“I know,” Sophia said, her voice seemed slightly further away now, like she was speaking from the bottom of a well.

“I’m gonna take a shot in the dark and say this isn’t a ‘hey how are you?’ kind of call, is it?”

“Unfortunately, no, it isn’t.”

“Shit,” Evan lowered his voice to a whisper to avoid waking Trevor. “Barely even nine o’clock and my day’s already ruined. You’ve got a real fuckin’ way, you know that Soph?

“Why are you whispering?”

“Don’t wanna wake my kid up. Believe me, waking up a hormonal fourteen year old….bad thing.”

“You have a kid?”
“Long story…So what’s the situation?”

“The house.”

“Fuck. I knew we shoulda torched that place when he were kids,” Evan walked down the front door and picked up the morning paper, he stood on the stoop, watching the neighborhood wakeup and talking, he knew if he was out here he could at least talk at a normal volume and not wake up Trevor.

“Yeah, well, woulda shoulda coulda.”

“So what’s happened? More kids trapped inside? Bunch of kids decide to do what we did when we were young and stupid?”

“Nope. Nothing so simple; a few of us actually went back in.”

“You have to be shitting me. Who the fuck of us would’ve been so goddamn stupid?”

“Rain and Chella did. For their TV shows.”

That’s when it hit Evan like a ton of bricks: what had been bugging him all the night before. When Trevor had switched over to the video game, there was a voiceover on whatever network he’d been on: “Coming up next, a brave group of young people attempt to explore the mysteries of the Reardon House.” His mind filled in the last of the voiceover and mentally kicked himself for not watching. But on the other hand, how was he supposed to have known?

“What happened?”

“It’s a little too complicated to get into over the phone Evan. Can you come back?”

When she asked this, the lyrics to a song surfaced in his mind:

Quote:
 
What about your town?
It’s defective!
It’s a dead-end street to me.
….
What about your childhood?
It’s defective!
It’s dead and buried in the past.


Meat Loaf’s Life is a Lemon(And I Want My Money Back); after Maria had left him, he had spent many nights singing that song drunkenly in both his house and in bars along the strip….in fact, it had basically been his anthem. Now those two verses basically summed his views on Midlothian as a whole. And yet…he promised, they all did…

“Yeah…I’ll have to send my kid to my in-law’s but I can make it.”

“What about your wife? Or your mom?”

“Wife left me, mum died a couple years ago. Look, same deal as the house, too complicated to get into over the phone. We can swap war stories when I get there, okay? I’ll book a flight now and call you with the info.”

“You want me to send a gofer to pick you up at the airport?”

Evan considered this briefly. “Nah, I’ll rent something when I book my flight. I’ll call you from the airport, okay?”

“Sure. See you soon Evan. And sorry.”

“It’s okay man. We promised, remember?”

He hung up and went back inside, pouring a cup of coffee. His toast was up and cold, but he had no appetite. He added milk to his coffee and dialed his former in-laws number. After Maria had left Evan and Trevor had moved in with him, Maria’s parents, Carl and Louise had moved to Vegas to be closer to their only grandson. Throughout the trial, they had supported Evan, effectively disowning Maria and adopting Trevor as their own. After two rings, Carl answered.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Carl? It’s Evan. Did I wake you?”

“What? No. Something wrong?”

“Well, yeah. Nothing with me or Trevor. But I got a phone call from an old friend of mine from back in home in Illinois. Her grandmother died and she wants me at the funeral. I know this is kinda last minute but I should only be gone for like a week at the most. I’m gonna go for the funeral and catch up on old times. My old gang’s gonna be there. I was just hoping that you could take care of Trevor for a couple of days. I mean, I doubt he wants to go Illinois and listen to us reminisce about some old woman or the eighties. Hell, I barely wanna remember the eighties most days, but that’s when I was raised.”

Carl laughed appreciatively. “Of course Evan, it’d be our pleasure to have him. When will you be leaving?”

“Late tonight or first thing tomorrow morning. I wanna get there soon. This girl, she was special to me and her grandmother was one of the nicest women I ever met.”

“Sure Evan, it’s no problem.”

“Thanks Carl. And sorry this is so last minute. I’ll call you when I know when I’m leaving.”

“Alright, bye, Evan. And give our condolences to your friend.”

“Will do Carl. Bye.”

Evan hung up the phone and sipped his coffee. Trevor walked down the hall, rubbing his eyes. “Who called?”

“Friend of mine from back in Illinois. Sit down for minute, okay Trev?”

Trevor sat at the table and Evan sat across from the boy, “look. My friend called me with some bad news. Her grandmother died, and I’ve gotta back to Illinois for the funeral. So you’re gonna have to stay with Grandpa Carl and Grandma Louise for a couple of days, probably closer to a week, okay?”

“Why?”

“Because when I go back, it’ll be and my friends talking about this lady and talking about our childhoods. And do you really want to listen to a bunch of us talking about growing up in the fucking eighties?”

“Not really…but what if Aldous Snow is there?” Trevor’s eyes lit up a little.

“Look. Aldie was only in Illinois for the one summer that I know of. But how ‘bout this, if he comes for the funeral, I’ll get you his autograph. Hell, if he’s around when I call I’ll even let you talk to him alright kiddo?”

“That’d be awesome!”

“Look. Go pack your bag alright? I’m gonna book a flight then call Grandpa Carl back.”

Later that day, after dropping Trevor off at Carl and Louise’s house, Evan boarded a red-eye flight from McCarran International Airport to O’Hare International Airport. The next morning, he was riding a rented Harley Davidson out of Chicago proper and towards Midlothian proper: the one place he’d vowed he’d never return to. But he knew he had to come back, if only for her.
Edited by WeBandOfBuggered, Aug 27 2010, 10:57 PM.
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Mesonoxian|Girl
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All the ancient classic fairy tales have always been scary and dark.
Melissa & Matilda – The Call

Melissa was sitting in the living room, channel hopping. She never watches TV, but since last night she’s decided to get out of her room and spend more time with the family. So here she was, browsing channels. Nothing of interest seemed to be on, though.
Suddenly something looked familiar, but she had already skipped passed. She went back a channel. There wasn’t much sound, but it was Reardon House. On TV. The reception was grainy, but she could make out three people, and gore on the floor.
A banner came up, stating “Rain Petrov & Chella Williams – Live from Reardon House”.
Melissa went ashen.
At that moment, Matilda entered with two cups of coffee.
“Here you go, sweet... Hey, what’s up?” Matilda asked, at seeing her sister’s expression.
Melissa couldn’t form words, she just pointed at the television.
“Whoa...” Matilda whispered, and sank down on the couch next to her sister.
Then the phone rang, and both of them jumped, almost spilling coffee all over themselves.
Melissa was closest, and she reached out and grabbed the phone.
“Hello?” she said, without taking her eyes of the TV.
“Hello, may I please speak with Matilda?”
“Sure...”
She handed the phone to her sister without a word.
“Hello?”
“I’m holding for Matilda.”
“This is she.”
“Matilda, I’m not sure if you remember me, but this is Sophia Richards... We met a...”
“Yeah, I remember. What the hell is going on in Midlothian?”
“Oh... I guess you saw on TV.”
“Yes, we just did.”
“We?”
“Melissa is here with me.”
“Who is it?” Melissa whispered.
“Hang on...” Matilda said, and put the phone on speakerphone. “It’s Sophia Richards. Sophia, you’re on speakerphone, you’re speaking to both us. What can we do for you?”
“Rain and Chella need you...we all need you to come.”
“To the house?” Matilda asked.
“Yes... It’s time.”
“I’ll be there as soon as can,” Melissa said.
Matilda looked at her with big eyes, shaking her head. Melissa just nodded.
“Which one of you was that?” Sophia asked.
“Melissa.”
“And you, Matilda?”
“I don’t know, Sophia. I have a husband, and kids... I’m a psychiatrist, I have patients. I’ll have to find out if someone can take over my cases. I’ll see what I can do.”
“Just try you best, Matilda. If you can’t make it, we’ll understand. Take care of yourselves, and we’ll talk soon.”
The phone disconnected.
The twins sat in silence for a while.
Then Matilda picked up the phone.
“Hi Jim! How are you?

“Good thanks... Sorry to bother you this early. I have a huge favour to ask of you... I just heard I have an emergency back home and I have to leave NY for about a week. Would it be possible for you to take on some of emergency cases?

“Oh...well, it’s kind of personal, if you don’t mind.

“Thanks so much, I really appreciate it. My receptionist will be in contact with you guys, then.

“Thanks, you too.”

Melissa looked at her sister, questioningly.
“I guess we’re going to Reardon,” Matilda said.
“Are you sure?”
“The others need us. And well...we have to finish what we started.”
“What are you going to tell Oliver?”
“I don’t know.”

They both sat staring at the screen for a while longer, before finally realising how much they had to do.

“I’ll check online for flights, you call your receptionist, okay?”
“Deal.”

An hour later their flight was booked for that evening, and Matilda’s receptionist has been briefed with what to tell patients and how to decide if they need to be referred to Dr Jim or not. Matilda knew a lot of patients would be angry that their appointments for the coming week had been cancelled, but hey, shit happens.

Matilda had explained to Oliver that they had to go to Midlothian, for some sort of impromptu reunion. He accepted this, and even thought the time away might do Melissa some good.
Their kids were stoked to hear they were going to be spending some time with their dad – that means more pizza for dinner. Matilda had just laughed.


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bebeluv1
Nemesis
Val---I’D Like to Hang Up Now

Val snagged the phone on the second ring. “Hello,” he said, a deep and gripping dread washing over him.

“It’s me, Val,” she said, almost apologetically.

Sophia’s voice sounded exactly as Val remembered. Once again he absently stroked the crucifix he’d taken to wearing again the past few weeks. It had kept the growing dread away until now. He hadn’t been able to place the dread…..not until now. And he needed a smoke desperately. Instead, he fumbled in his pants pocket for a stick of gum, and trembling fingers folded it onto his tongue.

“I saw what happened,” Val rasped, barely able to make his voice work. All these years, he’d thought he had adjusted rather well to what had happened at Reardon—he’d lived a normal life with no nightmares, blah blah blah---but now, it all came back at once. He knew what Sophia was going to ask, and he didn’t want to go.

“Then you know what I’m calling for,” Sophia responded, her voice sympathetic. She remembered how scared the chubby boy had been all those years ago. But she also remembered how brave he had been when the need for bravery arose. “We need you , Val. Chella and Rain need you. Us.”

“I…..” Val closed his eyes, willing this nightmare away. This wasn’t his problem! If Rain and Chella were stupid enough to go into that hellhole again….why should he suffer for that? Val shook his head, as if shaking off those thoughts. “Sophia, why did they do it?? Why couldn’t they leave that shit alone?” The more he thought about it, the more his dread was being replaced by anger.

“It needs to be finished, that’s all Rain said,” Sophia said calmly. She heard the edge in Val’s voice, and knew he was struggling with this. She didn’t really blame him. But on the other hand, she was a little surprised at his reaction. The others had been so accepting right off the bat.

She heard Val’s heavy sigh on the other end of the phone. “Have you spoken to Ian already?”

“He’s going,” Sophia answered.

“Then I guess we both have a plane to catch,” Val responded, and hung up the phone.

Val stared at the wall, reliving the past. He didn’t want to go. He had almost told Sophia to go fuck herself. But then……something had occurred to him. Sophia would be calling Esme. Val would go anywhere to see Esme again, and he was sure that Esme would be there. At Reardon. Val touched his crucifix again, and then called Chong Li into his office.

“Got a cigarette, man?” he asked.

“Sure thing, Faddah Val,” Chong Li grinned and offered Val his pack. With unsteady fingers, Val withdrew a cigarette from the pack and lit it with the lighter Chong Li held out to him. He sucked in as hard as he could, forcing the smoke through his lungs and then back out his nose. He didn’t even cough.
Edited by bebeluv1, Aug 28 2010, 09:57 AM.
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bebeluv1
Nemesis
Aldous Snow—Being Rung Up

Aldous was roused by his friend Aaron. He cracked open an eye and slowly sat up, untangling himself from the girl in his bed. Aaron thought the girl looked a little young; but he knew Aldous always made sure they were legal so he tried not to worry about it. Aldie’s hair was a massive bird’s nest and his eyeliner was smudged under one eye, but at least the man was clean and sober.

“What is it, mate?” he asked, yawning widely as he eyed the phone in Aaron’s hand. “I ain’t doing another interview. You promised, Aaron. No more this week.”

“No, Aldous,” Aaron held out the phone to his friend. “This sounds like an urgent call. From a friend.”

Aldous was wide awake now, thinking Dylan had finally decided to call, and he snatched the phone from Aaron’s meaty grasp.

“Dylan?” Aldous listened for the familiar sound of Dylan’s English accent, but instead he heard a woman’s voice. Old friend? He didn’t recognize the voice at all. He was just about to throw a hissy fit, thinking that Aaron had lied to him and this was another interview after all, when the woman introduced herself.

“It’s Sophia.”

“I don’t know any…..” Aldous paused, then remembered. Rain’s friend. Sophia. “Christ, Sophia! Been a long time, how are you, Luv? And how’d you get my number, eh?” his voice was cheerful, flirty. Typical Aldous.

“Good to hear your voice, Aldous. Rain loves your music.”

“Even ‘African Child’?” he asked suspiciously.

Sophia laughed. “Yeah, even that one.”

Aldous was a little confused as to why Sophia would be calling him, but then again, lots of people from his past had found ways to reach him. Usually to ask for money. His father was no exception. Blighter. “How’d you get my number?” he repeated, still keeping his voice light.

“Rain.” Sophia could understand Aldous being a little skittish about her having his number. He was a huge rock star after all, and had had that stalker issue a few years back. “Look, Aldous, I’m afraid this isn’t exactly a social call.”

I bloody knew it, Aldous thought, his heart sinking. Still, he supposed if Sophia needed money, he would give it to her. He always gave to those he cared about. And since Aldous cared about a great deal of people, he was constantly being used. It was something that Aaron was trying to stop from happening anymore. “Oh, yeh, that right?” he asked, his voice taking on a downtrodden tone.

“I’m sorry to ask this of you, Aldous, but…..”

“How much?” Aldous asked, now weary and upset. He glanced at the young bird in his bed, and even that didn’t cheer him much.

“Oh, God, no! No, Aldous. You misunderstand me,” Sophia exclaimed, her voice alarmed. “It’s Reardon. You have to come back to Midlothian.”

Aldous paused, and a cold chill fingered its way down his spine. Reardon. The back of his head started to itch furiously at the mention of that house. “Go back? Why?” he asked, honestly bewildered.

“Rain and Chella. It took them. Them, and Chella’s assistant.”

“Christ,” Aldous whispered, his voice hoarsening. “Bloody hell, Sophia. How did this happen?” There was no need to explain who “it” was. It was Reardon.

“Just tell me you’ll be here as soon as you can, Aldous, can you do that?”

“Sophia, I…..” he was thinking of his baby, his son, who wasn’t biologically Aldie’s son, but still his son in his heart. If he went back to Reardon, he might not return. On the other hand, Aldous had spent his whole life burying himself in drugs and booze trying to erase those memories. Perhaps if he could confront his past, and conquer it……”I’ll be there,” he said.

“Great, we’re counting on you,” Sophia said, and then Aldous heard a click in his ear.

Aldous closed his eyes, wanting to see his son Naples’ smiling eyes and dopey grin. Instead, he saw spiders. He saw fat, fuzzy, grey spiders. Aldous turned to set the phone on the nightstand, and promptly vomited on the floor next to the bed. His sleeping bedmate didn’t even hear him hit the floor when he passed out.
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Shrimp Po'Boy
Sophia/Bobby/Esme/Gram- Final Phone Calls.


Sophia looked at Gram for a few moments longer, shocked to see how much the woman had aged. She had been an older woman back when she was fourteen, but she had always been strong, and robust.

Gram still had a glimmer of strength and determination in her eyes, but her body was frailer, she looked weaker then the last time Sophia had seen her. She still remembered how Gram had saved all of them back then, how she had cast that spell that had let them escape.

Sophia knew she owed Gram her life, but looking at her now, she was filled with a sense of dread. Gram wasn't going to be around forever, and the effort of having to save them this time around might actually kill the woman this time.

Gram looked at Sophia, a smile on her lips, "I'm not dat far gone yet, chile," Gram said, winking, "dis ol gurl still got fire in her bones."

Sophia chuckled, blushing a sshe did so, and picked up the phone. She still had three more calls to make. She scanned the short list, looking at those she hadn't called yet. Bobby Fowler. Esme Leroux. Dylan Wells.

She dialed Bobby's number, doing her best to avoid looking too long at the still active moniter showing the bloody piles of gore that used to be people. The phone rang three times before the line was picked up, "Hello?" A male voice said, sounding confused. And for some reason, nervous.

"Bobby?" Sophia asked, "Bobby Fowler?"

"Yea," Bobby said, "who is this?"

"Bobby, its Sophia, Sophia Richards, you might not remember me, but..." She broke off as Bobby gave a releived laugh.

"Yea, I remember you," he said, "I'm sorry, I just had a really weird day, and I thought I saw....never mind that. How have you been?"

"I've been doin good, Bobby," sophia said, trying to find a way to tactfully break the news, "Bobby, have you seen the news lately?"

"News?" Bobby said, confused again, "No, not yet, why?"

"Find a TV, and flip it to channel thirty five, please." Sophia said, looking at the live feed again.

"Ok, ok, sheesh," Bobby said, "I forgot how bossy you used to be." Sophia grinned in spite of herself. There was a pause, and Sophia heard Bobby calling for a man to turn the channel on a TV. There was silence again, and then Bobby's voice, whispering, "Oh, sweet Christ."

"It's Reardon, Bobby," Sophia said, understanding the younger mans fear. "Rain and Chella are trapped inside, with a man named Danny, and two more people have died."

"Christ," Bobby said, "Jesus Christ. Juliette..."

"Juliette? The young Cajun girl? What did she have to do with this? Sophia shook her head, "We need you, Bobby. I'm calling everyone back, we need to finish this. But I'll understand if you don't come, and no one will judge you for it."

Bobby was silent, his ragged breathing all that she could hear. Then, "I'll be there," he said, his voice rough, but with conviction.

"Thank you, Bobby," Sophia said, "just get back to Midlothian as quick as you can, I'll fill in everyone when they've all arrived."

"Right. I'll see you soon, Sophia." Bobby said, "take care until I get there, ok?"

"You know it," Sophia said, "see you soon." She hung up with a sigh. She was frankly amazed that everyone had agreed to come back, so far, anyways. If it were up to her, she'd be hiding as far away as she could. She glanced at the moniter again, inside the house where one of her best friends was trapped. Well, maybe she wouldn't hide after all.

Dylan, or Esme next. Sophia hesitated a second before dialing Esme. Dylan would be harder to handle, she knew. Better to save him for last. Esme's number rang for almost a minute before she picked up, and with her first words, Sophia could tell Esme wished she had let it ring. "Hello?" Esme said, fatigue practically dripping from her voice.

"Esme Leroux?" Sophia asked, though she already knew the answer.

"Maybe," Esme said, "whose asking?"

"Esme, its Sophia Richards, from Midlothian? Do you remember me?"

A pause, then Esme answered, her voice more alert. "I remember."

"Good, good," Sophia said, idly sticking another toothpick in her mouth. "Esme, I don't know if you heard, but..."

"It's Reardon, isn't it?" Esme interrupted. It wasn't a question.

Sophia decided to keep it simple. "Yes. We didn't finish it, Esme. Rain and Chella are trapped."

"You've called the others?"

Sophia nodded, "yea, except for Dylan. I was saving him for last."

"Probably a good idea," Esme said, "he and Rain were close."

"I know," Sophia said with a sigh, "it's gonna be fun times."

"I'll be there, Sophia," Esme said, her voice carrying power and authority, "I promise that."

"Thank you, Esme," sophia said, releived for reasons she couldn't possibly comprehend. She had thought Esme would have had the best reasons for not coming back. "Get here as soon as you can."

"Will do. See you soon," Esme said, and she hung up. Sophia sighed, chewing her toothpick. Everyone had agreed to come. But even with all of them, would it be enough? Would they be able to handle it?

"I'm afraid," Sophia said, shivering.

"Good," Gram said, looking at her, "fear keeps you alive, lets you know to run from danger, to run from harm. As long as you don't let it consume you, child, fear can be a powerful ally."

"But how can we hope to beat it?" Sophia said, "you had to save us all last time, if not for you, we'd all be dead."

"Power doesn't just come from me, child," Gram replied "sometimes the power comes from within, too."

Sophia shook her head, "I wish I could beleive that, Gram."

"Beleive it!" Gram said, her voice sharp, "beleive it, and find your strength, and you will overcome anything."

Sophia chewed on her toothpick thoughtfully, thinking about what Gram was telling her, as she picked up the phone one final time, taking a deep breath as she dialed Dylans number. Dylan would probbaly be the hardest one yet, but the easiest to convince. Taking another deep breath, Sophia put the phone to her ear, as it began to ring....


OOC: Jesse, i decided to let you do Dylan, if your still interested
"Alright, I've been thinking. When life gives you lemons, don't make lemonade. Make life take the lemons back! Get mad! I don't want your damn lemons, what am I supposed to do with these? Demand to see life's manager! Make life rue the day it thought it could give Cave Johnson lemons! Do you know who I am? I'm the man whose gonna burn your house down! With the lemons! I'm gonna get my engineers to invent a combustible lemon that burns your house down!"


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bebeluv1
Nemesis
Bo and Esme Pendleton---Preparations


“Why can’t I go?” Bo asked again in that pleading tone he got, following his mother around her room as she flung a huge Louis Vitton suitcase on her four poster bed and darted from one dresser to another, taking items out and carefully folding them.

Esme stopped and turned to face her son. It still blew her away how close he was to being a man. How had time passed so quickly? She smiled, too, selfishly happy that there was growing yet for her son to do—his voice was still changing and he hadn’t hit his growth spurt yet. She placed her hands tenderly on his cheeks and kissed his forehead. More like the hair on his forehead; the kid had a mop-top to rival the Fab Four.

“Baby, I’ve told you,” she sighed. Didn’t teens ever listen?? “Mommy has to go alone this time.”

Bo rolled his eyes. Sometimes his mother still spoke to him like he was a baby. “You don’t have to treat me like a kid, Mom. I’m not five.”

Esme watched her son as he paused in the middle of their “argument” to text a friend. Typical teen. “Are you listening to me? Stop that texting, no wonder I have to repeat myself a dozen times before it sinks in!” she scolded.

“It was Deena,” he replied in that haughty tone only teens seemed to be abel to master. Deena was Bo’s tutor. Esme frowned.

“What’s she doing texting you, let alone texting you on a Saturday?”

“Nothing,” he said dismissively. “Mom, don’t make me stay with that crazy photographer friend of yours, Niles. I hate him.”

Esme laughed. She could see why Bo might not like Niles. He was a little……well…..creepy. Not in a scary way so much as a “what a darling young man would you like to come to my room” kind of way. “I wouldn’t leave you with Niles, don’t worry, baby. What about Miranda and Orlando?”

“Why can’t I just go with you? I won’t get in the way, I promise!” Bo flung himself on Esme’s bed and propped himself up on his side as he watched her pack.

Esme stopped, put her hands on her hips, and shot Bo her best “mom stare”. Undeterred, Bo just looked at her with those pleading eyes. Esme knew that look well, and had given in to it many times. But this time, she couldn’t. For his own good.

“Bo, please don’t argue with me. I’ve made my decision and it’s final. It really is.” Esme stared into her son’s eyes firmly for a few moments before diverting her attention back to her suitcase. “Besides, you’re a young man now, surely you don’t want to hang out with your uncool mom all the time anymore.”

“You’re not uncool,” Bo replied, and the words warmed Esme’s heart. He thinks I’m cool! she thought. It surprised her that this pleased her so much. “Well, I mean, not TOTALLY uncool.” Ah. There’s the rub.

“Bowie, listen…..”

“Uh-oh. There’s trouble when you’re using my full name,” Bo teased.

Esme smacked him upside the head with a scarf she was packing and giggled. “Stop it, Mister!”

Bo slid off the bed and slipped his arms around Esme’s waist. He was still short enough for her to rest her chin on the top of his head. There were advantages to being a 5’ 8” model. “I’ll miss you,” he said softly.

“And I’ll miss you, Sweetheart,” Esme said, kissing the top of her son’s head.

As he held his mother, Bo reflected on the snooping he’d done earlier in the day. His mother hadn’t told him where she was going, but he’d found the ticket. Midlothian, Illinois. What was so secretive about this trip? Why couldn’t he go? Those questions were just too intriguing for Bo to leave alone. He just had to find out.
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Misbehaver
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Shrimp Po'Boy
Dylan/Sophia - 'Please hang up, and try again'


Sophia dialed the number Rain had sent her. How the woman knew where to find Dylan Wells, she couldn't be sure. The wonders of show biz, she thought.

What would she say to him? He had disappeared more than twenty-five years ago, and she was just going to ring him up and ask if he was interested in coming back? "Hey Dillon," she thought silently. "I know you left without a word when we were both children, but I'm that girl you hardly knew who was friends with that other girl you briefly liked, and I was wondering if you'd like to join us for another exciting ghost hunt."

It might just fly with him, she thought. Then again, he might just slam the phone down and she'd never hear from him again. Rain would be crushed. Devastated.

No. He wouldn't do that. He was a bit of a hard case, but Sophia knew, somehow she knew, he would come back. He had to...


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Somewhere in a quiet corner of Jersey City, in a dusty, long since used apartment, a phone was ringing, echoing in its empty tomb. Not a living soul round to hear it.


---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Dylan splashed the water on his face again, then planted his hands down on either side of the sink, taking in deep breaths. He had to wrap his head around the mindfuck he just received. She was THERE. It was too damn real to be a passing daydream, or a simple fantasy of desire. She was right there, right in front of him. She touched him for Christ's sake.

He stared at himself in the mirror, the water clinging over various imperfections in his face. Old scars taunting him, threatening to bring back demons once thought to be buried. Newer scars bombarding him with recent events and mysteries that he still couldn't explain.

His leaving prison was no simple matter. He had been denied bail less than six months prior, after serving three full years. The committee argued that "with his track record, it was unlikely that he was able to change, and would remain a danger to those around him." Apparently, if you kill one man with an ashtray, you're labelled for life. You don't walk out the front gate, guards wishing you well as you go, when you're labelled as a dangerous killer. You rot. Ten years of your life gone, easy. That was to be him. But it wasn't. He was walking around, breathing the open air, a free man. Well, not entirely free. There was the little misfortune of him being a wanted felon. It was just his bad luck that he didn't have the time or the wits (given the severity of the situation) to plant a body and become dead to the world.

That night was like a second visit to Hell after Reardon. Dylan had just awoke from a rather vivid dream about Rain. He didn't want to wake up. When he was asleep, she was still there. They were still together. He was rudely awoken by the smell of stale cigarettes, that his cellmate was smoking. Dylan shot up in his bed coughing, still half asleep, and still certain that Rain was right there with him.

What happened next was something out of science fiction. Light, blinding white and yellow light, and a god damn deafening crack, and by the time Dylan gasped at the explosion, his cellmate was already gone, engulfed in flames hotter than the sun. The bars blew out over the block's balcony, sirens blared over the PA, and guards and prisoners alike started shouting and screaming. It didn't stop there, much to Dylan's horror. He wasn't sure what was happening or why. If the force was helping him, or if he was creating it. But the fire grew and spread throughout cell block C, filling cells and corridors with red death. In the chaos and the melee, he was lucky enough to find a hole in the back wall left by a nasty explosion by one of the furnaces. It wasn't in his nature to run, but he couldn't pass up a chance to keep the next seven years of his life intact. So he ran. How he managed to escape with only a few light burns was fucking miraculous.

Two weeks of avoiding crowded city streets, and sleeping in cheap motels, paying in cash stolen from drunkard wallets at the dirtiest pubs, and Dylan felt safe enough to make a phone call. His friend Irish had been there for him through some bad times, including his worst times after bad run-ins with Mr. Head and his thugs. he owed Dylan big though, and so was easily persuaded to use a few of his tricks to find out if there was any extensive investigation or manhunt for the fugitive Dylan Wells. Unfortunately, there was. You don't blow up a prison without making headlines. He wasn't sure how many died. Dylan never read or watched the story except to hear about his "supposed whereabouts" so he knew where to avoid.

Irish wired Dylan some emergency cash, along with a couple fake papers and a passport. Enough to get out of the country and avoid a life death sentence this time. It was a kind gesture, and one that Dylan would probably never repay, as he was now ready to abandon his past entirely and enjoy living out the rest of his days in rural China as Hugh Brandt. Irish never was one for imagination.

As it was, Dylan now stood here, in the lou of Newark Airport, ticket to sweet Beijing freedom in his hand, and devils behind his eyes, urging him to reconsider. Why was he so masochistic when it came to her?

This was it. This was what made a man. If he was indeed a man, and not just an empty shell, its only characteristics being a temper and a damning stare. Decisions like this made his stomach wrench, but he knew he didn't have a choice. He had already made it all those years ago. This was simply the consequence of a promise he made with his actions. A promise to a girl he left alone to wonder if he ever cared at all, just so he could escape the dark that came with surviving such horrors.

Twenty-five years ago he had run back into a burning building to save Rain Petrov from the evil that was consuming her. And now he was going to do it again. He was going to run back inside, to whatever end.

"I need a ticket on your next flight to Chicago," he told the woman behind the counter.

"Will you be needing a return flight?" she replied, typing into her computer.

"No," he said flatly. "One way."



OOC: Short, I know. Sue me; it's 4 am.



mike was still in his chair being eatenchair
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bebeluv1
Nemesis
Val/Ian—De Plane, De Plane


By the time they’d gotten to the airport, Val had chainsmoked his way through amost half a pack of cigarettes. Ian was worried about him—he’d NEVER seen Val this agitated. Val kept rubbing his palms into his knees, over and over, only removing his right hand long enough to take a drag from his cigarette. Lucky that they were in a private limo….Ian didn’t think that cabbies would take this kind of smoke trap.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” he said, once again.

“Well we did make a promise,” Ian said. He was scared, too, but Val took the cake.
“Val, man, what the hell is up with you? You’ve always been such a cool cucumber. I mean, I know we’re going to back to Reardon, but …..” he paused and finished his thought with a shrug.

“I’ve got a lot of sins to make up for before I die, Ian. And I’m not going to get the chance now.” He turned to Ian, a grave expression on his face and a haunted look in his green eyes. “We’re going to die, you know. It won’t let us out a second time.”

Ian was perplexed. Sins? What sins? Val was the cleanest guy he knew. “Man, you’ve got nothing to worry about.” He paused for a moment, and then continued. “And we’re NOT gonna die!”

“You’re wrong,” Val snapped, more vehemently than he intended. He sighed. “I’m sorry, man. I just….I guess I never came to grips with this.”

Ian appraised his best friend, trying to see into him. There was something that Val wasn’t telling him. Something that Val thought was potentially horrible enough to send him straight to Hell if he died. No…..Ian couldn’t see it. Val was probably exaggerating, or being overly sensitive. Val was one of the best guys he knew.

They reached the airport, Ian glancing longingly at the area reserved for private jets. They weren’t that posh yet; Lavish was successful but not THAT successful—yet. Still, they were able to afford first class so that was something. Val had extinguished his last cigarette and appeared to have had his fill. His jumpy fingers didn’t reach for another. He slid his sunglasses over his faraway eyes and licked his lips, then exited the car. Ian followed suit.

“I feel sick,” Val said, smiling softly, sheepishly.

“Gee, wonder why, Dumbass,” Ian teased. “Here, give me your suitcase. You can carry my carryon. Might help you if you don’t have to carry anything heavy.”

Val didn’t argue, just handed his suitcase over and took the strap of Ian’s carryon in exchange. The two men checked in, and waited for their flight.
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bebeluv1
Nemesis
Bo Pendleton---Oh……Nellie

Bo hunkered down low on the plush sofa, chewing on some mint gum and nimbly handling the controller in his hand. The new game wasn’t the coolest he’d ever played, but it was ok. He glanced at the clock as he shot down another enemy plane, and then smoothed his bangs down over his forehead. He hated waiting. Which was probably why he was always late. No waiting on anyone if you’re the last one there.

His mother had gone to town for a few final things to pack before she headed to the airport later this afternoon. Women, he mused thoughtfully, why they had to pack a billion suitcases for one little trip was beyond him. He grinned at that thought; he knew that he packed as much, if not more, than his mom did. He returned his thoughts to the clock. Where was she? He had to see her again before he took his own flight to Midlothian.

He had dressed for her today, knowing that she liked the black jeans and the shiny gold jacket. So he’d worn them for her. He’d taken great care in getting ready today, even more than usual. He’d spent extra time brushing his teeth, and flossed for the hell of it. And then he gargled with Listerine, the Cool Mint kind, just for extra freshness. He masturbated in the shower, because one of his mom’s bodyguards had told him once that it helps you last longer with the chick if you had already blown a load earlier.

Getting nervous now, Bo turned off the game console and stood up. He had started to pace without realizing it. He caught his reflection in the mirror, and then stopped to stare at it. His shiny brown hair—a perfect mop. Skin—flawless. Eyes—Bo looked into his own eyes, searching them. They were lovely eyes, wide and brown. Innocent eyes. Bo tried to ignore how young he looked, because if HE worried about it, then maybe SHE would, too.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, and picked up his phone. He’d waited long enough. It was time to text her to see where she was at. He hit the “contacts” button to search for Deena’s name (he hadn’t put her on speed dial yet out of pure laziness). He frowned. The names didn’t look familiar to him. Suddenly, Bo’s eyes flew open in realization and he looked closer at the phone. It was his mom’s. Which meant…….

Esme felt her phone vibrate at the store and pulled it from her pocket. There was a text message from Deena.

Cant wait 2 c u. r u hard for me?

What the hell? Esme thought. She looked more carefully at the phone and realized that she’d grabbed her son’s phone by mistake when she left the house. Feeling alarm grow in the pit of her stomach, Esme opened Bo’s messages and began reading the texts he’d saved. There were a lot from Deena. Some were innocent enough, asking about schoolwork and such, but others…..Esme put her hand to her mouth, as if she wanted to vomit. One message stood out, worse than the others.

Deena: Hope ur 1st time was everything you dreamed.
Bo: everything and more, girl
Deena: when can we do it again?

And then there was the picture he'd saved.....

Posted Image

Who took that??

Forgetting her purchases, Esme stormed out of the shop and made a beeline for her car. Meanwhile, Bo opened the door, kissed his tutor on the lips, and then let her in.
Edited by bebeluv1, Aug 31 2010, 06:41 PM.
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Mesonoxian|Girl
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All the ancient classic fairy tales have always been scary and dark.
Matilda & Melissa – A pact

Through passport control; and the twins headed to the big doors. They only had carry-on with them. Neither could see the point in packing heavily for this particular trip. They got the arrivals hall, and Matilda took out her phone.
“I need to take care of something...”
“Okay.”
Matilda sat down on a bench, and Melissa walked a few feet away from her, filming the happy faces of family members reunited.
Matilda went in on her e-mail, and went to the drafts folder. She opened up an e-mail she had typed up at home, and hit send.
She exited her mail, and dialled Oliver’s number. He picked up after the first ring, even though it was way too early for him to be up.
“Hey babe, we just landed. Just wanted to let you know we’re safe.”
“Oh, hey sweetie. I miss you already,” he responded in a sleepy voice.
Matilda closed her eyes, fighting back tears. What if this was the last time she would hear her husband’s voice?
“I’m gonna...let you go...”
“Okay... You have fun, okay? Give Melissa a hug from her brother-in-law.”
“I will do that. I love you very much, never forget that. And Ollie...?”
“Yeah?”
“Check your e-mail as soon as possible.”
She pressed the disconnect button before he could say anything else, and switched off her phone so he couldn’t call her back.

The e-mail detailed the experience she, Melissa and the others had in Reardon House as kids. She didn’t see the point in hiding it, knowing Oliver he would do an internet search and find records of everything anyway. She’d rather he hear her version, anyway.
Then, she explained that they had to go back to finish what they started. That she knew he wouldn’t understand and would try to stop her, and that that was the reason why she chose to send the e-mail after they had left, instead of having the conversation in person, when he might have tried to stop them from going.
She told him how much she loved him, and their kids, and lastly gave him the channel number where she and Melissa saw the broadcast. She wasn’t sure if they were still broadcasting, but figured they’d be showing updates, at the very least. She didn’t like the idea of him watching what was going on in the house, but he would find out about the broadcast sooner or later, and this was just one more way to proof that they weren’t...crazy.

Matilda looked up when someone touched her shoulder, startled. It was Melissa, looking at her concerned. Then she realised she was crying.
“I’m sorry,” she said, gathering her stuff, and standing up while wiping away the tears.
“Matilda, it’s not too late to turn back. You have a lot to lose. In fact, you have everything to lose. I will understand.”
“No. I have to do this. Not just for you, but for the others, too. They need us.”
“Make me a promise...” Melissa said.
“Anything, sis.”
“No matter what happens in that house, you and I never split up. We stick together until the bitter end. Okay?”
“Deal,” Matilda said, sticking out her hand to her sister.
Melissa took her sister’s hand.
“Let’s go find Sophia,” Melissa said.

Sophia had called back later that day to ask if Matilda had made up her mind, and offered to pick them up from the airport. The twins had gladly accepted. Quite frankly the thought of the TV show crew running around outside of the house freaked them both out, and they were glad to not have to arrive there unescorted.
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WeBandOfBuggered
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Shrimp Po'Boy
Trevor/Evan - Airborne

Trevor sat in the guest room of his grandparents house, the laptop Evan had bought him for school sitting on the desk, wondering what the hell he’d do for the next week: his dad had gone off to Illinois for some funeral and he was stuck with his grandparents. Much as he loved, them, he really wished he could’ve gone with his dad: boring as talk about the 80s would’ve been, it would’ve been cool to see his dad’s hometown.

After the first night there, while his father was driving along the Interstate, Trevor decided that he would at least attempt to get to Illinois. He’d heard his father muttering in his sleep sometimes about Midlothian and some place called Reardon Hall. A few cursory searches on Google informed him that Reardon Hall was a haunted house in Midlothian, Illinois; his father’s home town. That sealed the deal as far as Trevor was concerned. The only issue was getting past his grandparents and what logical excuse he could come up with. A sudden scream from the kitchen spared him the trouble.

Trevor bolted off the bed and ran down the hall to the kitchen where his grandmother lay on the floor clutching his hip. “Gran are you okay?”

“I think I broke my hip,” she said, the pain in her voice obvious.

He looked around, “GRANDPA!” No reply. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed 911.

“911 what is your emergency?”

“Yeah. My name is Trevor Sullivan, my grandmother fell in the kitchen, I think her hip might be broken.”

The voice on the other end of the line gave brief instructions, then asked for their address. Trevor gave it, hung up and dialed another number. After two rings, his grandfather answered.

“Hello?”

“Grandpa? It’s Trevor. Where are you?”

“Across the street talking to Mrs. Henderson. What’s wrong?”

“Grandma fell down in the kitchen. I think her hip might be broken. The ambulance is on the way.”

“Stay with her Trev, I’ll be right there.”

Less than two minutes later, the door banged open and Carl came in, he knelt down next to Louise and Trevor, cradling Louise’s head carefully. “Louise, honey, are you okay?”

“It hurts.”

“I know, baby, I know it does.”

A few minutes later, the ambulance pulled up out front, Trevor escorted the paramedics to the kitchen; Carl climbed in back with Louise and Mrs. Henderson, their neighbor from across the way drove Trevor to the hospital.

Some Time Later

Carl sat next to Louise’s recovery bed while Trevor leaned against the bedside table in a small, semi-private room. Louise had indeed broken her hip. The two were saying their goodbyes; Louise was being kept in for observation overnight but would likely be discharged the next day. The cab ride back to Carl’s house passed in silence. Once back there, they walked up the path, Trevor ate a few Oreos bid his grandfather good night and went to bed.

After Trevor had gone to sleep, Carl picked up the phone and dialed Evan’s cell phone.

Illinois

Evan sat in a Starbucks, sipping a latte and debating his next movie: direct approach to the set or sneak in through some back way when his cell phone rang. He glanced at the ID and saw ‘CARL’ on the screen.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath before answering. “Carl? What’s wrong?”

“Trevor’s okay, but Louise fell.”

“Shit! Is she okay?”

“She broke her hip.”

“Jesus, you want me to come back? I mean, I can blow off the funeral. It’s no big deal if you need me there.”

“What? Oh, God no. It’s just the hospital’s probably going to discharge her tomorrow. So with her back it might be a little hard to handle both her and Trevor. I hate to do this but would it be all right if I sent Trevor to Illinois?”

“Yeah, of course. No problem. Book his flight and call me back with the info I’ll had back to Chicago and stay there tonight. I’ll drive up to Midlothian in the morning with him instead of today. You sure you don’t want me to fly back?”

“Yes, Evan. I’m sure. It’s kind of you to offer, but go, be there for your friend. Was it that girl from TV, Chella that Trevor mentioned?”

“Um…yeah, why?”

“Then you better stay. She was your first kiss son, and you were probably hers even if you didn’t really kiss back. You be there for her kid. You come back, I’ll punch you, got it? I’ll book Trevor’s flight and call you back with info okay?”

“Yeah, no problem Carl. Talk to you in a bit.”

McCarran Airport, Las Vegas, NV; The Next Day

Carl’s Ford Taurus pulled into the passenger drop off area and Trevor climbed out of the front seat retrieving his duffel form the backseat. “Thanks for the ride Grandpa. I’ll see you when I get back. And give Grandma my love.”

“Will do. Have a safe flight.”

Trevor nodded and closed the door, following the airline representative who had come out meet him; since he was only fourteen he was still classified as an “unaccompanied minor.” He informed the rep that his father would be meeting him at O’Hare, then went to the waiting area; his flight boarded an hour later and soon he was flying off towards Illinois.

O’Hare Airport, Chicago, IL

Evan had returned the Harley and rented a more practical Ford F150 to transport himself and Trevor around, wondering what he would do now that his cover story was blown. He sat in the arrivals area, waiting for his son’s flight to landing, staring at the board and sipping a can of Pepsi, but continually reaching into the inside pocket of his leather jacket feeling the comforting weight of the flask filled with Wild Turkey. The flight landed and Trevor walked through the doors, escorted by a stewardess.
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LadyRahl
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Supreme Goddess Of All Things Bright And Shiny
Esme/Bo - Blue and Red



Esme walked through the front door of her home, leaving it open in back of her and carefully set her keys quietly on the hall table along with her purse finding her hands oddly free of tremors. They’d shaken the entire way back from the mall and she’d pulled over twice to vomit on the side of the road. Beween stops she’d made a few phone calls through and she now closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, feeling the men standing behind her.

How had this happened?

How had she allowed this to happen?

She’d done everything to protect him, take care of him, to stop…

“Are you okay Miss. Pendleton?” Asked the man behind her and she nodded.

“Just, give me a minute,” she said softly and slid off her shoes, pushing them under the table and she just stood there, hands on the edge of the table, eyes fixed on her keys. “I should go and,”

“It’s better if we witness it,” the man said. “For legal purposes.”

Esme nodded and picked up Deena’s purse were it had fallen on the floor, probably thrown there in the heat of passion, her cell laying in plain view. She bent down, picking it up and handing it to the officer along with her son’s phone. “This should be all the evidence you need.”

Letting out a deep sigh she rooted down into her purse finding her medications and popping a few pills into her hand, tossing the bottle back. “His room is the last door on the right,” she said setting her purse back and heading into the kitchen. “I don’t want to see her. Just take her away and do what you need to.”

She could hear the sounds of what could only be lovemaking interrupted by two fully clothed policemen. Her son cursing, yelling, Deena (the fucking slut) screaming at them vehemently, objecting, then pleading, begging, saying that she hadn’t done anything wrong. Esme scoffed at that as she tossed the pills in her mouth, filling a glass with water and taking a drink. The voices drew closer and she could hear the police reading Deena her rights, what rights Esme wondered? She didn’t diserve any rights after what she had done. Esme gasped as the glass in her hand shattered, burning pain surging up her arm and she opened her fist, several shards of glass burried in her hand which she began to pick out, the blood pattering softly in the sink.

“No! Deena!” Bo screamed. “Grandma get off me!”

So they’d finally gotten here, Esme thought and her shoulders slumped not wanting to hear any of this. She remembered how she’d defended her father, how she’s kept telling herself that he was a good man, even after… after all that. She’d really tried and now, now her son was stained the same way she was.

This wasn’t fair… this just… it wasn’t fair.

Taking the dishtowel she wrapped it around her wounded hand and walked out of the large sliding glass door of the kitchen onto the rear stone patio deck that overlooked the beach and the ocean and she listened to the ocean. In the background she could heard Bo yelling with his grandparents, yelling at the police, calling for his mother… there was so much about her life that Bo didn’t know. So much that she had locked away in the back of her mind, things that were now coming forward, things that she’d gone through massive amounts of therapy and hypnosis to recover from and that one word… Reardon.

It was all coming flooding back and she staggered, visably, under the weight of it and sank down on the patio chair beside the pool, her hands flopping listlessly in her lap. Dear God… what was she going to do now? Bo needed her… this wasn’t going to be an easy time for him and here she had to run off and,

“Mom! Mom!” Bo called, bursting through the open doorway. “Mom the police! Deena! They’re arresting her! Mom do something!”

“Bowie, you leave your mother be now,” his grandmother said.

“It’s okay Mom,” Esme said looking at the old woman, her mother… the only real mother she had ever known. “She’s going to go to jail Bo,” Esme said looking at her son “where people like her should go.” People like my father, she thought and shivering, remembering his hands slick and sticky with blood running over her hair.

“But Mom, I love her! She can’t,”

“She can, and she will,” Esme said looking at him and pushing out a chair for him “and be glad that I called the police. If I’d walked in, she’d be dead.”

“Esme!” Gasped her mother.

“Mom,” she said “I’m going to need Bo to stay with you for a little while. I have some business out of town.”

“Mom!”

“Bo please, just sit down and we’ll talk about it,” she said meeting her mother’s eyes. “Can you take him?”

“Of course sweetie,” she said. “I’ll pack a bag for him.”

Esme watched her mother turn and walk back into the house and she turned to look at her son, her child, all that was good in her. She’d poured everything good that she’d had into him, given him everything that she hadn’t been given as a child, complete and unconditional love free from… from that. Esme unwrapped her hand looking at the cuts, they really weren’t that deep and she had to remind herself that this wasn’t about her, about her past… this was about Bo. About her son. Wrapping her hand back up she turned to look at Bo who was looking at her with almost pleading eyes, begging her to do something. “We switched phones,” she said. “That’s how I found out. She sent you a text… and then I looked back, and found the photos. Bo… I’m sorry that you’re hurting. I’m sorry that I failed you. This never,”

“I love her!” Bo cried trying not to cry. “Mom,”

“And I loved my father,” she said “but that doesn’t mean that they shouldn’t go to jail.”

“What does Grandpa have to do with,”

“Not Grandpa,” she said “my father. The Pendelton’s adopted me when I was a teenager,” she said. “They’re the only real family I’ve ever had, except from my friends when I was growing up. My father, my real father, he was a bad man.”

“But Deena isn’t a bad person. She loves me,”

“And he said that he loved me,” Esme said. “Every time he made me crawl to him, every time he crawled into bed with me. Every night he told me he loved me… but it wasn’t love Bo. It was just lust.”

“But Mom,”

“But nothing Bo,” she replied looking at him. “When you’re older, you’ll understand. After therapy and,”

Bo slammed his fists down on the patio table, looking at his mother furiously. “And what if she’s pregnant?”

Esme closed her eyes. “If there’s a God she won’t be. Look Bo, I know it’s bad now but in time… I know that there’s nothing that I can say that will make this any better, and I know that there’s nothing I can do to fix this.”

“You can not press charges! You can let her go!”

“So she can what? Keep raping my 14 year old son?”

“I’m not a kid!”

“You are in the eyes of the law Bo,” she snapped back “and you’re still my responsibility, and what I’m doing, what’s happened, it’s for the best. You just have to trust me.” Her tongue ran over her bottom lip and she let out a long sigh. “When I get back we’ll talk about this but,”

“What, you don’t have time for me now? And why can’t I go with you? You let me go everywhere else with you!”

“This is different Bo,” she replied. “This is… this isn’t a photoshoot. This isn’t a party or something exciting like that. This is… look, just promise me that you’ll stay with Grandma and Grandpa until I get back.”

“Mom,”

“Bowie,” she said meeting his eyes “I’ve never asked you to stay behind before. I’ve never asked anything like this of you before, and I know that you’re going through a hard time right now but they can help you. They can get you in touch with my therapist, they can,”

“They can’t do anything for me!” Bo said feeling like he wanted to cry. “Mom,”

“Please Bo,” she said looking tired, more tired than he’d ever seen her. More tired that she’d been after a 18 hour photo shoot. “Just do this one thing for me and when I get back, we’ll talk about Deena, we’ll talk about all of this and… I don’t know, we’ll work something out.” She reached across the table, taking his hands in hers. “I promise. Just promise me that you’ll stay with them and don’t, just stay with them until I get back.”

“And then what?” He asked. “We pretend this didn’t happened while the woman I love is in jail?”

“No Bo, not pretend that nothing happened. We need to talk about this, we need to talk about a lot of things I just, I don’t have time right now.”

“She didn’t rape me Mom,” he said as she stood up “I wanted to do it.”

“It’s still rape,” she replied. “I wanted to make my Daddy happy, but that didn’t not make it rape. Believe me when I said it was a choice of her being in jail, or being dead. Be glad I chose the police. I love you baby.” She said kissing his head and smoothing down his hair. “Go finish helping Grandma pack your stuff and they’ll take you to their house until I come back.” Her hand touched his cheeck and he could see the pained look in her eyes. “We’ll work this all out when I get back, maybe even get her a reduced sentence… as long as you do what I say at stay with Grandma and Grandpa.”

Esme headed back inside to finish packing her back, her shoulders still feeling immencely heavy and she barely winced, hardly feeling the pain as she wrapped up her hand… and she’d been so careful to protect him…

Maybe his father could straighten him out.

No, God no, that’d be a bad idea.

He’d just pat him on the back and say good job.

No… definitely not.
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Skin by Spades aka Volture.