Perhaps the Storm...

December 23, 2017:

The Darkness, Witchblade, Tomb Raider and Ripclaw of Cyberforce are all drawn together by a mysterious man calling himself; the Curator.


NPCs: None.



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

New York City.

Right now it could be mistaken for another great metropolis. The city itself is suffering one of the worst blizzards in the past fifteen years maybe more. The 'Tri-City' cluster of the East Coast is in a land lock, a great piled up high snowy one. On average anywhere from twenty to forty five inches of snow has fallen across the three cities, Gotham and New York having been hit the hardest. Winds intermittently have been blasting at levels of up to thirty miles an hour, power lines are coated in frost and ice, windows carry a new thickness, emergency services are backing up, power outages are afflicting major portions of Burroughs, all public transit and services are likewise in a stasis suffering their own critical issues. It is safe to say it is cold and very damn dark out if you don't count the whitewash of a supernatural winter.

The subways and monorail systems are the best way to get around right now, the world won't stop and New Yorkers likewise refuse to. It is a general clusterfuck of nose to nose, elbow to gut, ass to briefcase, shoulder to nose, it looks more like an overcrowded Tokyo during busy hours around those locations than New York, the only thing its missing is designated legal 'pushers' who will help CRAM people in to cars.

Why the gathering of these particular souls tonight? A calling.

The Darkness is being whispered to and beckoned, taunted even the Darklings no doubt not happy something is 'fucking' with them.

The Witchblade begins to act 'feisty' and starts to demand Sara GO. NOW, Lara Croft's bookshelf jostled and an old book crashed to the floor opening up and an envelope slid free she's never seen before and Ripclaw was awoken by a vision.

It's a draw. Fate's threads being pulled.

The news is rampant right now about the strange mass disappearances of children, a vicious horrid Satanic or Pagan ritual took place in Old Olympus park of Metropolis, sightings of monsters or gargoyle like creatures climbing rooftops, rattling chains, gangs with masks and knives attacking people at night, one anchorman even started to complain that he found his wife in another room, wailing that some very hairy man came in to her own and 'spanked her' with a whip quite viciously, this erupted in some more comedic drama as that same anchorman started declaring his wife as the 'Devil's Dong Locker' which is the most polite one they can repeat, the hilarity short lived as a favored media face was fired. A sad and very bizarre day indeed. ON top of that Gotham's parade was struck by the Brotherhood once again… madness, this storm is bringing in absolute madness. Why anyone would want to venture out in to it is quite frankly confusing….

Ripclaw with a cowboy hat, bandana underneath leather jacket, collars up and head tucked stomps through the snow towards the 'lure' the place of his vision, hes not stopped moving since he got up and put his feet in his boots, its almost as if hes under the influence of a geas.


Lara had been at her desk in her apartment when the book had slid off the shelf and landed on the floor. She'd stopped typing and had gone over to it… kneeled and pulled the envelope out… curiosity fueled her onward (as it always did) and she now found herself out in the 'storm of the century'.

With winter clothing wrapped about her body, hood up and a woolen mask pulled over her nose to guard her mouth, Lara too was moving toward the source of whatever it was she was investigating tonight…

This was no big deal for the archaeologist, she'd bared far worse weather than this and the fact that the city was all around her, she felt perfectly safe (but she still had a gun tucked away inside of her orange winter jacket).


The Call, something that Jackie is not used to, and it still gives him chills when it happens. It's a weird thing to have The Darkness whisper to you and not experience Fear… but Excitement. Still, this is different, this is not from The Darkness, but TO the Darkness… to HIM… and he will answer The Call.

Jackie is still working on complete control of his shifting, but he's good enough that the long leather jacket that appears to protect from the Cold and Wind is easily kept in place. A few of the Darklings follow in the shadows, One with a Yankees Cap and the Other wearing a Cape and Cowl like a Bat.

"Heyas Boss, I"m hopin' we can eat whatever this is…" the raspy voice of the Cowled Darkling mutters
"You ALWAYS want to eat it, even when it gets stuck…" Yankees cackle backs
"Shut UP!! How was I supposed to know I can't poop a boot!" Cowled replies

"For Christ Sake, Keep quiet.." Jackie rumbles back to them, shaking his head, "Move to the shadows, watch my back, and for the Love of all that is Sexy let me know if you /hear/ it again." With their orders, the Darklings disappear into the deepest of shadows.

As he gets closer, Jackie keeps his eyes focused on those moving in his direction, and makes sure the two guns he has under his coat are still actionable. "Lets see what we've got here…"


Sara Pezini of Precinct 18, Homicide - but unspoken 'Mum The Word' Supernatural Division has called her to watch.

Sclera of white has bled black, a crossing of capillary sized veins carry the Abyssal hue towards dark irises, untouched, a slow-crawl until the Call that has the very pulse thrusting veins forward fast… Transmuting Amber to a glowing golden hue, reflecting that of a group of Gangsters…

The back of the small freight loading truck bed is laden in the splayed figures of Mafia as Red and Blue flickers over s crime scene Sara called in and once again…
.. Left…

But the truck haul opens to reveal a shipment of Women strung with that of Steak.

Lock already cut in a feral slice of markings. 'X'.

Marks the spot?

A trench coat flares with the thrust of metallic gloved hands into the pockets, head bowed to cover features while the stolen covering is sealed over what lies beneath in her approach towards that call.


From all directions of New York individuals begin to gather and move, tugged along by invisible threads and they'll find their destination to be Manhattan. The streets are never this empty, never so desolate and unwelcoming.

Right now Jackie's strength in the Darkness is rather great with the shadow the snow is providing, yet beyond what is visible, perceptive through even superhuman means or just 'feeling' beyond things are off, scrambled… almost as though sensation or a feel of what's out there is 'numb' or cut off.

Lara Croft is a woman of the world, an adventurer and explorer with very few peers, she's been to the tops of the world and the bottoms of the ocean; she knows harsh, cold and when survival becomes a relevant concern. New York City is on that cusp if this snowstorm persists. Shes also a hunter with that sense of 'wrong' the hairs up the back of her neck being teased at by unseen threat.

Sara Pezzini, the bearer of the Witchblade is experiencing a new side of her symbiote, it's feisty, erratic, it doesn't want to hold one shape and ripples alive here and there. Occasionally even spiking out as if it's trying to fend or ward off an assault she can't see. It makes it hard to keep the object secured and hidden away.

It is eerie to move through such a wasteland, worst yet when Jackie sees a frigid blue hand sticking up from frozen pile of boxes. A homeless man unfortunate and caught out in the exposure.

One by one they'll start to appear on the same street way, lamps flickering in and out along it. The point of interest one and the same, a small antique shop in the center with a symbol upon it in a dialect of Chinese (Lara can translate it as "Watcher's Point' roughly), wedged between a bookstore and what might be a record or electronics shop.


Lara's footprints in the nose tracked her across the non-busy city street… the absence of cars is odd for this city indeed… but the weather ruled the world whenever it wished to as it was doing here and now.

Other travelers out and about tonight weren't paid much heed by the archaeologist, she simply kept on her way with her head down and her eyes following the lead that she had.

When she arrived at the strange storefront she paced back and forth, her boots kicking the fresh fallen snow around in powdery fashions.

Lara's exposed eyes peered up above her covered nose/mouth and she looked at the foreign words, she translated them…

Croft moved forward to the shop, placing her hands up against the windows to try to peer inside…..


That feeling of separation sits heavy in Jackie's stomach, his pale blue eyes narrow as he moves through the street like the predator he has become. It is disconcerting for his eyes to pierce even the deepest of shadows, but seem to have a problem with the blowing cover the snow provides in the area.

His eyes flick to the few individuals on this street, the lack of people not missed by him, and the fact that they seem to be heading in the same direction puts him on high alert. One of them he feels is familiar, that strange sense of something /different/ about a few of them, and one standing out compared to the others.

The newcomers don't stop his gait towards the Shop, odd as it seems, and when he catches sight of the bum he just shakes his head.

"Hey Boss, can I…" Cowled starts in, and Jackie grunts cutting him off.

"No, leave him, we've had enough issues with scumbags found with teeth marks. We don't need them finding homeless mostly eaten." and then the glowing green eyes of the Darkling disappears, one might almost see a pout on his features, stepping into the shadows.

As he closes in on the Shop, and the first of the newcomers to arrive, he calls out in his deep voice, accented as a Native New Yorker, "Hey, last minute Christmas gifts? Does it look like the place is open?" There's an easy smile on his face, but for someone like Lara (and the rest of the crew here) she can tell that those eyes are cold and calculating. While Jackie may not make any threatening gestures, there is something to put trained people on their guard, and his unbowed stature in the cold is not common even in this City.


Sara is trying hard. But normal is not anything she has seen in well over a year.. In fact, neither is smoking.

Right now she fucking needs one! And after a 'Lash' of exposure rips through a tiny slice in leather 'coat' is slapped away she finds that pack tucked away. Her fingers curl around it, and in a quick motion that is nearly blurred she is placing the cigarette between her lips and lighting it! Drawing in, tilting her head back to stare at the onslaught of snowfall that melts like crystalline teardrops along her face and into Dark Auburn hair.

That extension pierces past lips to sever the lit 'nub' from base of cigarette and leave her exhaling into the chill before her, shoulders lightly slumping while her chin tilts down and Sara opens the Witch-Haunted eyes upon the shadows across the empty road.

The approach is nearly silent, fingers plucking the dead cigarette from her lips to flick it to the gutter as the silhouettes clarify, as well as the storefront and it's name.

"Don't be creepy," Said to both as she presses past and twists the knob, an antique bell ringing with her entry. "Open 'til 9. Better be. Layaway." Eye contact is never made directly to either of them as threshold is crossed with light drift of snowfall and booted steps. (If that door doesn't open…She will pick it!)


There is light inside not bright fluorescent bulbs in stores like the ones to each side of it but candles perhaps, lanterns even or just old working lamps. Lara will see this much in her face press against the glass.

The dark haired man drawing up the rear with them gives each a quiet look, the back of the Tomb Raider, the flicked cigarette of the Witchblade Host and the eyes of the Darkness. The visions unfolding for Ripclaw, a mutant, cyborg and medicine man. A past, present and future, spirit, body and technology. "It's still going." He says quietly, those red eyes meet Jackie's, a mutual exchange in them. A killer meets a killer. Samurai's had a word for it. He does not elaborate what he means about the ongoing vision, the deja vu he can't escape. None of them would likely understand. He waits for the others to enter before he does though.

Warm inside (the door is very open) Welcoming as they enter the cramped curio shop, it is smothered with incense and ancient relics, knick-knacks, objects, books and novelties clutter the structures innards under layers of dust and cobwebs, a path cleared through the center where travel happens upon thick oriental rugs, hanging drapes suspend from each door making this room seem even smaller.

Experienced and knowledgeable eyes will recognize an old flintlock pistol on display, Anne Bonne's the famous Irish 'pirate'. A relic from around 1720 or so. The Witchblade itself is familiar with it. The presence of the object actually calms it some.

An elderly and slender man in a white gown trimmed in gold stands inside, his Fu Manchu long and trailing down his chest, his dark eyes gazing upon each as they enter, "It is early. Much too early." He says in a cryptic fashion much like Robert. "Perhaps the storm… "


Lara pulled her hands and face away from the glass when she heard the voice behind her, she looked out over her mask at the others who had appeared behind her apparently also interested in this storefront…

Her brown eyes turned to watch Sara move up to the door and waltz on in… sure standard business hours were until 9:00pm but look at the weathe—- the door opened?

Lara sighed and just walked up to follow after Sara, she took a second to stamp her feet free of snow in front of the doorway (because she was raised to be polite like that) and then she too stepped inside the store of strange items and oddities… her kind of store, really.

Lara reached a hand up to push her hood off of her head and then she pinched the mask over her face and she pulled it down to expose her face fully to those within the room…

She stepped off to the side, then spared a glance around at all the items within the shop.

But she looked to the one who spoke. "Early for what?" The British explorer asked.


When Sara comes walking through, the group can hear a small chuckle come from Jackie, "Can't help it…" in response to her creepy comment, "Think none of us would be here if we weren't all a little creepy." Jackie's eyes pass over her once, everything seeming to be in order, and obviously looking better than the last time they 'talked'.

When Robert comes up, the eye contact is made, Jackie goes so far as to offer a small nod of his head… something similar to those ancient Samurai.. a sign of respect from one Killer to Another.

The original chuckle he had turns into a noticeable laugh at Lara's reaction to Sara, and he follows the two ladies in. He knocks the snow off his feet, less about polite and more about minimizing evidence left behind, amazing how two cultures can come up with similar solutions to vastly different problems.

Jackie's eyes fall to the weapons first, his showing interest no matter how old or what type, and the Darkness in him responding to the contained violence (perhaps some shared) in the ones on display. His eyes move to the assumed shop owner, eyebrow arching, and muttering under his breath "Bit cliché, eh?" but his interest is peaked as well at Lara's comment especially in comparison to what he /thinks/ he heard Robert say.

For now, Jackie waits and listens, patients is what he knows as a Hitman, and there's no reason to move from that now. When action is called for The Darkness will be ready.


The form of Sara cloaked in a 'borrowed' form of leather warmth stills as eyes fall along her back, her spine going rigid when her head turns and her profile is visible, eyes closed…

Open, they seem normal despite the 'Ember glow in the backdrop. A corner of lips lift, but hold as she looks to Lara, the focus held, pupils coming to pin-dots in dilation, although Jackie's presence is one to draw a lax form of hands thrust into leather pockets into fists that bulge beneath fabric, a shift that draws silver-threads to rend where sinew once held the pockets together, reformation in an armoring that hesitates upon Ripclaw's entry.

A dart of eyes, the flash is one of more Predator to Predator than that of Killer, or Hunter…. Jackie, and Lara. There is no need to Hide Shit, here… Now.

Turning back towards the flintlock a hand extends, clawed appendage scraping over the glass and clutching an edge - seeking to hook into the seal…

The Blade Wants What it Wants!


"To begin the end of course, Miss Croft." The man says with absolute casual and easy response to the Brit. His own accent is not so thick as one would presume by his looks, either a very fluent English speaker or he has been here for some time.

"Cliché makes me money, Mister Estacado." The Asian gentleman smiles again lips twisting under that very smooth looking manchu-stache, "Would you like to perhaps buy a Mogwai? Discounted if you let me give you the three rules speech about the sun, water and midnight."

"Please, Miss Pezzini do not touch the merchandise unless you wish to buy it. That does not belong to you or your companion."

"The door if you would Mister… Berresford." He only hesitates because Ripclaw changes his last name on a whim.

Robert the honorable and respectful warrior he considers himself to be returns the polite recognition with an until of his chin, those albino white features visible briefly. In turn after snow is stomped free and kicked loose his needle pointed boots exercise the same but he doesn't close the door behind himself immediately, no, he turns while they are talking to look outside, past the nearest lamp posts towards the end of the street…

/She/ is there. Standing in the brightest of the light posts shine, head down, far enough away he cannot make out her features, faceless, nameless but known, so close she can see those who enter, she can feel the call but she refuses to draw nearer. To show weakness or give an opting to her adversary. The Angelus watches. When the Darkness departs and the heavens try to break through the clouds offering even faint rays her approach upon the curio shop will be much less… polite.

Still Robert is riding that vision, the stare at the woman's face and the deliberate shut of the door behind him. They all happened, are happening, were going to happen and then hes drawn to the present. The Deja Vu sensation ending finally freed of it.
"Cute. You now all our names." The reply from Robert is dry."


Lara's eyes were scanning around at the others who'd come into the store with her… she didn't know any of them or understand why they were also here all gathered at the same time like they were embarking upon some strange murder mystery dinner party.

Lara had only just returned to the United States this past Monday, she'd been gone since April and had even had to sell the home she'd had in Greenwich Village… she'd had a lot on her mind and this was just distracting her from it all.

Lara looked from the man who seemed to know it all, to the others who'd come with her.

"I… don't understand." She'd say then. "The end of what?"

Lara took a step toward him and she held up the book and envelope which had lead her here. "Why was I given this?"


"Best Christmas present ever as long as my name isn't Billy." Jackie responds to the Shop Owner, and equally charming smile sent back his direction at the Mogwai comment. Jackie's attitude warms a little at the banter, something he can take as usual, and turn this odd meeting into nothing more than another Gangland Bargaining Party.

Some might here from a nearby shadow a raspy voice grumble "Bright Light, Bright Light…" which only causes Jackie to shake his head and sigh.

His eyes shift to Sara again, some of the smirk disappearing, and perhaps a little bit of a sigh escaping his lips. Whether it's from her response or the fact that Jackie pushes back the roiling of the Darkness, a bit of shadow darkening his side of the room, it is hard to tell.

His eyebrow quirks again at the way Robert seems to know some of what is going on, but he nods his head in agreement with the man's assessment of the shop keeper, "Yeah, have to say it's more than a coincidence that you /seem/ to know all of us…" as always, turning a bit of his personality to his benefit, "Jackie, by the way, not many folks call me Mr. Estacado, and those folks don't really enjoy it."

"I'd like to know what is ending too…" Jackie says, unaffected by the mystery in the air, but more concerned with the potential this could turn bad real quick with a comment like that.


Jackie's look is caught in the vague *flicker* of periphery, even the remnants of /smirk/, scraped by that of her own into the fading light while she listens.

That hooked hold upon the stand bearing encased 'blunderbuss' does not lighten. In fact the glass is scathed over in the smooth surface, leaving paths akin to cracks. ~"We beg to differ…"~ A statement said bearing a deepened echo to her tenor, but an accented /lilt/ unheard as her possessive reverie remains in a solid clutch upon melding of glass panes.

The envelope and book Lara offers draws a pause, a brow lofting to span the brief space from book to woman and to the Asian Curio holder with the question unspoken, yet…

Mister Berresford is watched in his hesitance at the door, those claws *clicking* into surface, /cracking/… Deeper.

The lock *clicks* and the wariness back off a bit, but Robert is watched warily.

A slow slide of gaze, Jackie once more is regarded while scalera fade from gray to white in the exit of her own shadows, the tension at her throat relinquished with a slow /swallow/, though she remains stoic.

"Is it a Bang, or a Whimper?" A snap of eyes to Lara, her hold on the old parchment and then the man with the same 'skin'.

…~"We will pay you…"~ The weapon within glass breached, unless stopped!


"You will understand in time and the end of well, I will enlighten you more when you become more open to the journey you are all about to embark on." The fellow chuckles, maybe at his own amusement at the situation, irony in it or Jackie's words. It is an obnoxious sound somewhere between Yoda's mirthy chortle an David Lo Pan's chitterling 'man-giggle' from Big Trouble in Little China. Most likely all of the above and then the Mogwai imitation from the corner shadows.

"Yes, why you are all gathered. We can disclose this one and it will be both and so much more Detective." He ignores the continued interest in the relic of a firearm. Bigger question to answer and a smile for Robert is given, a secret one. So he has seen the other who doesn't wish to enter. Perhaps for the best… "I am the Curator. I have an important duty and it involves the balance, fates of the universe and other cliché prattle." Jackie is given a grin, the old man looks both cruel and playful with the expression, "I watch, I collect, I organize and I assemble. You, all of you are my current assembly because each of you is important, the Darkness, the Witchblade, a tracker who just happens to be a shaman and one of the worlds greatest archaeologists. Such an impressive gathering and not a one of you the sort to turn away from a fight. It's beautiful. Joss Whedon could not have assembled himself a better team… " The old man who has a surprising amount of pop culture knowledge shrugs his hands in those big floppy sleeves of white, "Not that I alone can take credit. Destiny you see, destiny."

"I am busy." Ripclaw says roughly. "This holds no interest for me. Whatever sorcery you used to get me here you can cease it before I lose my temper." The native is standing by the door, arms folded across his chest and a strange metallic clicking noise has been escaping his gloved hand. The Darklings, he can smell, hear and 'sense' them all around him, its making him edgy.

"Please, before you deny me. Consider… this pays handsomely, not just in currency which I offer plenty but also the undiscovered portions of our world, dark places, new places, ancient /artifacts/, knowledge and information, I know what all of you are and what you possess, I know everything you desire and require. I am prepared to aid you in each of these things. It will be worth your very valuable time" The Curators hands fold together, pleased with himself still, tucked in each heavy sleeve.


Lara Croft had never seen Gremlins, she'd never seen Big Trouble in Little China, she'd never seen Star Wars, she'd never heard of Joss Whedon… Her brown eyes looked from one face to the other as more of this summoning was revealed to them, apparently they were all in the same level/state of confusion as she was.

A faint and brief smile crossed the Tomb Raider's lips and she looked back to their Host. "I'm sorry, but I have work in the morning… I can leave my phone number with you and you can ring me when you need questions answered that you feel I might be able to provide answers for, but otherwise I'm not entirely sure how I can help you with all of this and to be quite honest?" The British woman went on, her eyes dancing around everyone else here before going back yet again.

"I don't really see how I belong in any of this. Its interesting, I'll give you that, but it also somehow smells of trouble that I'm not entirely certain is worth my while and… payment is certainly something I know I don't need."

Lara closed the book and she set the envelope down on a bit of table space… apparently she was preparing to leave..


Jackie watches Sara, the flintlock, and his brow furrows at some missed connection here that is way over his head… although, there's always the off-chance she is just /really/ into hand guns. But his focus returns to the Curator as he explains the Who, What, and a very small version of the Why (as far as Jackie believes).

WHen he begins telling them about what he's willing to offer, /this/ gets Jackie's attention, "Wait? You know about The Darkness? The History? What it is, What it does?" Now there's excitement, a chance to learn something from someone other than crazy ass Sonatine.

When Lara starts to leave, he considers something, and asks her "So, you study the past, right?" a very pedestrian explanation of what she does, "What about something that's been around since The Beginning?" He's guessing he'll need her help, all of their help, to get what he wants out of this. "I bet you've already found some talk about The Darkness. What is it worth to learn more?"

He then steps up to the Curator, "Not sure I care about any of the artifacts, but if you help me learn about the Darkness, then I"m in."


The 'Curator' is regarded, level, statue-still, as if the paling tanned skin was etched in Greek Marble when her states the ability to afford/ what is so direly wanted. Those Amber eyes darken, and in the backdrop there is a Fire in that debate. A *snap* of eyes to Ripclaw. "Wait!" A snap of vocal, and her claw-tips draw away from the punctures into glass around the Pirated Musket - coating scales of metallic lashes around fingertips.

"I hear Busey Corner has a great Rhubarb Pie this season…"

Hands recoil fingers to her fists, crescents pressed into palm redden in /wells/ of blood that comes nd goes in a rapid succession of…
… mend…

"My. Treat." Calico-Patterned pants are revealed in leathered lingin with every step, the Artifac'ed boots now thigh high in lacing of 'Covertcy', her eyes flickering from Curator to Lara, a pause between her and Jackie in her path for the door. A draw of upper lip to flash a Sneer-Grin his way while eyes remain on the Tomb Raider. "… Don't buy it. Cake is a …"

The lowering of lids towards Jackie as he approaches the Curator is one of evident suspicion, but he is not disregarded. "…Lie…" A glance back towards an encased weapon that draws her skin taut to the point of scalp tingling and hairs rising.

The Curator is now watched… Silence aside from a derisive snort. ~"Pay us what we want…"~

"Not for sale." But the torn matter.of.fact. is evident.


"Tyrfing, the Lost City of Paititi, the doorway to Skartaris, Pandora's Box, the Divine Soul. Just a few I could set you to course on. "The Curator challenges Lara Croft. "You are an explorer, a student of history, yes, a seeker of those things which are lost. You are our navigator and our guide, you have done these things before. No one is more qualified than you."
Jackie gets his own look, a gleam to those dark eyes, they look very avian beady right now. Far too delighted with ones self, "You are in the best company to learn more of your dark burden, isn't that right?" The Old man looks at Robert with that last insinuation and adds further barb, more on the plate to Robert, "You, this storm, it's source is what has directly stirred the events tonight, pushed the table ahead. It was no enchantment upon you it was a fracture in the universe itself being witnessed, out of sync, your sensitivities are not lying to you."

"You know far too much." Ripclaw 's demeanor has not softened but hes not talking counter to the man. Instead he is opening the door, that cold blasting in through it. "You found me once Curator you can find me again."
A look is given to Jackie Estacado as if hes trying to figure him out, make sense of what the Curator is saying there but he thinks he knows. Presumes for now and the ;wait; from Sara gets him paused in that doorway, "No thanks. I hate Rhubarb pie." No lie.

Yet another 'Lo Pan' man giggle, "Do not worry Detective, you already named your price and it is yours for no price but your participation in what is to come. A fair deal." The Curator is watching them, he doesn't look expectant just… full of confidence. Radiating it. If they do manage to refuse, there are others and it will come back no matter what. This is very much fate at work.

"I am going." Ripclaw is and the door clatter-bangs shut behind him leaving them to deal or go their own ways, hes already had the dreams, knows this is connected and as Ghost Warrior and his own codes… hes in. It's his duty not just his fate.


Lara's eyes went to Jackie then as she moved to set the envelope down. "That depends on what one's definition of 'the beginning' is." She replied to him in a soft voice. "Some people believe that the beginning was ten thousand years ago, others believe that the beginning was less than three thousand years ago… yet more feel we haven't begun at all and we're only really just a simulation in a another civilization's laboratory." She showed him a faint smirk. "I love discovering new things and learning of wondrous possibilities, but… I have a lot on my plate as-is."

Lara was moving not too far from where Ripclaw seemed to be headed also and then she paused to look back to their Host. She seemed torn at this point, her curiosity was building and that was usually what lead to her losing days of her life to study and research which would eventually lead her to an inevitable expedition to 'god knows where'.

Lara watched Ripclaw leave, she watched Sara seem to toy with all of this and then she looked back to the man who'd given them what information he felt needed to be given.

"Contact me with more details… please. Do me a favor…" And she went to pull her hood up and reach for her mask. "Use my phone number next time."


"I suggest you all walk briskly out there. Some fool has unleashed a Yule Demon… " The Curator is thoughtful and considerate. No one wants to get caught out there by the Krampus after all. When they are all gone and free of that shop every light in the place goes out at once and they are on their own…"

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