[gilga]

M nods, "my name is Melisa Green, but you can call me M... Nice to meet you Goodnight... it is too bad that you run the shadows, you could have been a good person... you have the capacity it shows."

To Isaint: Quite a protection that is... I was not present during the previous time but from Solo's emotions it did not go up so well. I wouldn't jump to conclusion that these are the same people.  Oh I will find those responsible - but you have to understand that I sense time very differently. By the time I do you may no longer care

[Kinkerbell]

Goodnight shoots Isaint an acid look. "I am well aware that our time is short." she says, her soft franco-italian tones giving way to a strange admixture of aristocratic british and clipped irish accents. It sounds as though she learned her elocution from a book rather than experience. "Pleasantries aside then, I ask about your bike because I am retained to take you into London Below, and unless you chain yourself to that lovely machine, its going to disappear the first time you turn around for more than an eyeblink." She shrugs, the motion doing fascinating things to her throat, shoulders, and chest. "That is, of course, your prerogative. I am sure I have a spare set of handcuffs if you wish to attempt bringing it with you. But there are also vast swathes of the underground through which a wheeled vehicle will not travel well, and the noise it makes would draw undo attention.

Goodnight pulls out a white silk fan with silver boning and flips it open, and one side lights up. Electronic paper? The fan is clearly a nonstandard-form commlink, and she manipulates it to show the ork a map, centered on Soho. "If you send your bike here, you have my word that it will be safe. I have a doss with a garage at that address. You and your teammates may store their vehicles there until we find them more suitable accomodations.

Turning her purple-glowing eyes on Melisa, Goodnight says, "I run the shadows because I am a good person." She says a trifle sharply. Even with her irritation at being talked down to by the spirit, her tones are not as clipped and upset as they were when talking to Isaint, and her expression shows more life once she isn't facing the ork. "Perhaps a little time in my company will show you that."

[gilga]

To goodnight:  Well... I am almost finished here... So I won't have the chance, but you do not have to convince me of anything. I was surprised you'd come to the city, especially underground where the environment is not ideal to say the least. I do not often see your kind in urban areas.

[Kinkerbell]

Goodnight shrugs again, diffidently. "I fought off symbiosis as long as I can, searching for my place." Her lips quirk up in a small smile. "It was actually a free spirit that helped me find a place to settle, underground. There is so much life there, for those who know where to look." Her voice is wistful, and almost reverent. She shakes herself and gazes at M. "You could stay, you know, or at least make certain there is always a way for you to come back here. I am familiar with the process of making pacts with the otherworlds. I could...officiate, if you would like to codify your relationship with your current host."

Then Goodnight shakes her had and says, "I am sorry. It is not my place. I am merely trying to make myself useful. A bad habit, sometimes." She nods at M. "If you depart before we speak again, then be well, Melisa." She turns to look at Isaint, waiting for his response to her suggestion and her eyes become hooded once more, her mask slipping back into place without her even noticing.

[gilga]

M say to Goodnight "How fascinating... I come to Solo when I want to. I kind of enjoy this freedom. I sense this world in a similar way than how you sense a dream. It is difficult to take it very seriously... But do tell me... what happened with this free spirit friend of yours... he seems significant in your life?"

"An erotic dream in your case" Thought Solo.

"Yes... you are right I find this world very erotic... but you did not appreciate my experiences with the dreaded guy." thought M at Solo.

[adamu]

What remained of the structure of Al's building collapsed in a huge conflagration of sparks in his wake just as he pulled the Outrider into the stream of the inlet.

And then the fuel tanks of the Bulldog ruptured, sending a small bubble of orange-black petroleum heat skyward.

Al congratulated himself on the way he had personally ensured everyone's survival. Not least his own.

He guided the boat up the short distance to where the team was meeting. On the way he spoke two quick texts.

The first: <<Horace, got a slick Toyota Elite headed your way. Strip its markers for me an' keep 'er out of sight for twenny-four, an' I'll owe ya.>>

Whether by ill fortune, amateur idiocy, or malevolent design, Art's incompetence had cost him his van and his shop. He was keeping the car.

The second: <<Chastity, I'll still be needin' that van, but not at my place. Cuz there ain't no more my place. I'll send ya a where later."

He brought the boat up alongside the ferrocrete jetty that abutted the sewage main that the drain they'd been directed to was a part of. He hoped it wasn't active anymore, being apparently an entrance to the Kingdom of the Crazies. But then, he had no idea what sort of personal standards its denizens held to, and his expectations weren't high.

But a job was a job, and they still had to keep the family safe until he could get the Doc and the team to sign off and then broker a deal with Fairy Twinkle Dragon.

Spike hopped out first. Al told the GMC's autopilot to hold position in the inlet for two hours, then return to its berth. The fire would be out by then - he could hear the sirens already - and it was still his place.

Then he tossed his bags onto the jetty, and hauled himself up after them. The water-heavy clothes didn't make it easy. The first thing he saw was Nitro's ride disgorging their charges - by the looks on those four faces he wasn't sure how much more of this they could take.

Then he stood there taking in the guide. Taking all of her in. Probably a second or two too long to be cool.

She was snow with fuschia highlights. But looked more pure. But he could tell she wasn't.

He was a drowned rat in brown leather. He looked tired. But then he always did.

He took the soaked pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and threw them into the river. "They got smokes down there?"

[Jack_Spade]

Isaint just shrugged, got off his bike and made some shooing motions while mentally instructing the autopilot and gyro stabilizers to take over.
"I'm neither married to my ride, nor wasteful enough to risk it. I just hope our new rigger will see it likewise."
He shouldered his rifle once more and took a step back: "I sure hope this hiding place is worth the trouble - it's no use to us if the denizens are cutthroat enough to go after the family we are trying to protect."

Isaint nodded to Al: "Al that is Goodnight, Goodnight that is Al." Turning away towards the entrance he whispered to Al "Good luck."

[adamu]

Isaint was headed straight in, and that was a good idea - they needed to get everyone out of sight and no time to waste.

He held back, though, planning to take up the rear. No one snuck up on Spike.

He tipped an invisible hat at the white hottie and hefted his kit, ready to move once everyone else was in.

[Kinkerbell]

Without looking, Goodnight tells Isaint, "You don't want to do that." Unzipping her SecondSkin a double handspan, she reaches into it and pulls out a slim case. Flipping it open reveals a flat-profile lighter and a half-dozen cigarettes, which she proffers and responds, "Yes, oh swimmer in the Thames, but you wouldn't like what they fill them with. Cigarettes from Above make good barter in some parts of Below that are off the beaten track."

Turning her head to look at Isaint over her shoulder she says, "I've been retained to be your guide below. Before you go charging into a dark world about which you know nothing, you might want to take a moment to consider why you need a guide at all, then rethink your course of action." She smiles coldly. "Or not. If you wish to try and deal with the Tolltakers on your own, be my guest. But you are not a local, and they will exact a heavy price. You are skilled, but you are only one man. Don't go making enemies in the first five hundred meters."

Fixing her gaze on Melisa, she smiles nervously and her snow-white cheeks color hotly. "She is a free plant spirit. We just call her Girl Flower." Her voice warms, becoming something almost normal. "She helped me when no one else would, taught me a little of her craft and a lot of her world. We became close." She giggles and gestures at herself. "My apologies for blushing like a schoolgirl. Flower has that effect on me. She's an odd duck, our lightless blossom, but a sweet and kind one." She doesn't mention that she first met Flower by watching her hex a ganger to death, forcing poisonous blooms to grow from every opening in his body, no matter how small. She'd turned him into a topiary hedge, and then picked the bright blooms as she introduced herself to a younger and much less jaded Goodnight.

"Girl Flower is one of Below's most colorful personalities, and she is my best friend and occasionally...other things." Goodnight's blush deepens  and she giggles girlishly. "You'll meet her soon enough." She promises. Her smile drops away as she turns to Al once more. "A pleasure to meet you, Al, I'm sure. It was you with the boat, then?"

[adamu]

Offered cigarettes, Al quickly pulled his eyes away from the unzipped flesh and helped himself to two, putting one behind his ear. "Much obliged, ma'am," he said, declining the proferred light. His Zippo was already - somehow - in his deformed hand, and wet or dry, she never failed to light on the first strike.

He listened with impatient interest as the surreal beauty hinted about the dangers of the Kingdom, and then talked about unnatural congregations with inhuman deceivers.

This was one worse than Daddy and Hallucination put together, he reckoned, and he knew he'd have to watch her. But then, that wouldn't be much of a chore.

He was about to suggest they talk less and move more, when she returned her attention to him.

"Heh, you saw that?" He didn't know how she had, but he found himself delighted that she'd seen his 007 moment. He tried, he really tried to be modest. "That warn't nothin', jist I got a choice between fightin' smart an' fightin' mean, reckon I'll choose both."

[Jack_Spade]

"I'm all for following you as our guide. Especially now that we are standing not 100 m from a burning building with rapidly approaching fire brigade and police units. All things considered, I'd like to be not out in the open when they arrive."
Isaint reset his mask, donned the helmet as well as the forearm guards and the other parts. He slid his coat back on and changed the color scheme to that of a London City worker.

[Kinkerbell]

Goodnight nods. "I did. Your quick thinking and ingenuity are impressive, sir." Her smile thins. "The female spirit was mine, you see." She turns to face Al fully and her eyes narrow. "Do you have any idea how much water hurts a spirit of fire? She was trying to protect you and your companions the only way she knew how, and you nearly put her in unimaginable agony!"

Goodnight ignores Isaint for a second, not even twitching. Then, without taking her eyes off of Al she says, "This is the docklands and shots were fired. They will come late, and come in force. We have a few minutes while they marshal the troops."

[adamu]

Al grinned and, leaving the elf girl's cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, raised both hands in a double peace sign. "Peace baby - ya had me at 'impressive'."

He started to think about whether there was time to run to the off-license for a six-pack before they made the descent into crazy, but then realized she was being serious.

"Listen, toots, course I know it hurts the sons o' bitches - that's why I done it. But ol' Al's real sorry if'n it was your conjuration got stung. Things was happenin' kinda fast in there. Maybe next time ya wanna drop a fire demon unannounced into a fracas like that, ya work on yer imagery some. Jist thinkin' out loud here, but maybe, oh, a flamin' Easter Bunny, instead of, you know, a horned, winged devil comin' up from hell. Might send a different message."

[Kinkerbell]

Goodnight doesn't quite snarl as she replies, "I do not choose their forms. I am not some puppeteer!" Her eyes flash, and the glow around their edges becomes the same fuschia as her manabolt had been, her natural luminescense overwhelming the colored contacts. "They are people!" she half-roars. "Fighting them is one thing, banishing them another, but what you did is torture to them!"

Goodnight steps back and takes a deep breath, shaking her head. "Where they come from and what they look like is their choice, not mine. I am only what talent and tradition and time have made me." She meets Al's gaze for a long moment, then sighs. "What is done is done, and I suppose that I cannot blame you in the heat of the moment. But next time, think about whether you would do something similar to a person. Spraying bio-acid on an enemy is far different than shooting them in the head, and with a fire spirit, what you did is much the same thing."

[adamu]

Clearly a hippy.

But they needed to get under cover. He figured he'd just let her keep living in her own special world, and was warming up his best live-and-let-live smile when she started in about the acid.

And for the second time in the last ten minutes he thought of that day over three decades ago. Had her witch powers seen something?

He held up his two hands, bone-white and so burnt they looked like they were covered from fingertips to forearms in freshly melted candle wax. "Talk ta ol' Al 'bout acid when ya know somethin' 'bout acid, sister. This here's what one o' yer people done ta me." He thought of his dogs, but he wouldn't mention them to her. They were sacred. "But no, they weren't no acid onna table today. Naw, they was jist tryin' ta burn us alive. But o' course it were the humane sort o' burnin' alive, not the torture kind." He shook his head. "This ain't some sorta game, chica. Ya fight, ya fight ta win. Or ya die an' ya die ugly." He gestured toward the four terrified citizens with a shake of his head. "Or they do."