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 Posted: Wed Aug 19, 2009 3:34 pm
┏xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox┓
T h e U n k n o w n A w a i t s A t T h e E n d
⊕ΛΠΛΤΗΣMΛ⊗
┗xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox┛
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Posted: Wed Aug 19, 2009 3:36 pm
PLOT
Imagine if everything you knew was a lie.
Such is the case in our little drama; the cast will be playing the role of (more or less) ordinary people living in present-day Earth; and for the sake of convenience, we're going to place them in the same city...say, Los Angeles, California, United States?
Yes, that'll do. Now, pay attention, because this is where things start moving from realm of the mundane into the realm of the absurd; wouldn't want to lose you along the way.
You see, since time immemorial, humankind has been on a leash; a long, invisible one that's about to be drawn tight. All of our technology, our innovation, our progress, and yes, even our failure, has been provided to us by our unseen Masters. Some would call them our benefactors; but I will address them by their true nature.
Demons.
Remember Lemuria? Mu? Thule? Hyporbea? Kumari Kandam?
Surely you recall Atlantis?
No? Guess why.
They woke up.
They realized the truth, outlived their usefulness; and for it, they were destroyed utterly and completely. The devils, the Masters, have shaped every great nation, have instigated every major war, have the blood of billions on their hands. They allow us to thrive, to grow, and then they reap the spoils. They fill our heads with empty thoughts, false delusions, and callous desires; and then they merely sit back and watch, gorging themselves on the hate they've bred.
You don't believe me? Of course not, why should you? But hear me out, and let my sudden disappearance within the next few days serve as proof enough. Their agents, their thralls and servants, are present in every echelon of society. They whisper untruths into the ears of our leaders and they shout blasphemies through the mouths of mad prophets on the street. They are everywhere, and if my worst fears prove true, they will make themselves known soon enough.
When that happens, we all die.
They are not infallible, however. Their cupidity and malice leave them vulnerable in ways they do not expect. Find them, hunt them, and never let them learn your name. Do as I have done.
Their numbers are endless, but the least we can do is begin to collect on the blood debt owed to us. There may be a way to free ourselves from their grasp; but only time and fortune will tell us that.
Think about what I've said, but not too loudly. They're always listening.
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Posted: Wed Aug 19, 2009 3:39 pm
SETTING && the such
Los Angeles; the City of Lost Angels. Some 3.8 million people make their home here, making it the second-largest city in the United States. You can find just about anything here if you look hard enough; including devils. They are the Masters, and they have held our race under their reign since we crawled forth from the primordial ooze. They laid the first bricks of this city. They are not red-skinned goat men with pointy sticks, nor are they beautiful tempters (though they can be, should they be forced into the shame of assuming a mortal form); they are utterly alien and surreal, and the mere sight of one would drive most people into a state of mad, gibbering terror. Thankfully, they only grace the world with their physical presence once in a great while, leaving the day-to-day affairs of controlling a populace to their fanatical servitors: the Heralds. The Heralds were once ordinary people who have since fallen under the sway of the Masters' wills, and now live only to carry out their unfathomable commands and to spread discord amongst the mortal world. Opposing the Masters and their Heralds are the Hunters, individuals who have learned the truth of our enslaved existence and now fight for our freedom. The Hunters are severely outnumbered and unorganized, but their tenacity and fervor have won them a fair number of victories. They will not survive long, however, should the Masters make their inevitable return...
In the middle of it all are the average Citizens who just happen to be caught within the underground conflict, and who will eventually need to choose a side, for better or for worse...
The world of ANATHEMA is not painted in shades of white and black; a Hunter can by just as cruel as a Herald, if not more so, and still believe they are in the right. There is potential for great good and great evil in every soul, and what shapes you is how you act upon them; demons all too commonly speak as saints, and only very seldom are their true natures revealed. Above all, the Masters are creatures of deception and delusion, and they know the faults of human nature all too well.
No one knows whence the Masters came; those of various faiths paint them as the classic minions of Hell, while yet others claim them to be truly extraterrestrial beings, come to Earth long ago from the black void of space. Whatever the case, they decidedly do not have our best interests at heart. They are worshipped by their servants in many forms (for their forms are indeed many) and their influence warps and corrupts those under their control; one who spends too much time listening to the eldritch whispers of a Master is sure to lose their sanity. Occasionally, a truly favored Herald is granted a "Gift" by their benefactors, giving them a portion of infernal power while at the same time consuming some of their humanity.
Most often, both Heralds and Hunters work alone; however, there come times when they must pool their strengths and resources in order to accomplish their goals. When this happens, a cell is formed for mutual benefit. These cells go by varying names: Convocations, Pacts, Enclaves, and Circles are the most common titles amongst Heralds, while Hunters often name their groups Covenants, Convenes, Arrays, or Congregations. Each cell may have a designated leader or simply be an equal council, and each is sure to have their own rules and customs.
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Posted: Wed Aug 19, 2009 3:44 pm
A Lesson in Hunter & Master/Herald Dichotomy
The Hunters stand alone and exposed; they have only their determination, fear of discovery (and execution), and possibly their faith to hold the darkness of the Masters and Heralds at bay. For the purposes of this roleplay, the forces of "good", should they exist, very rarely take an active role in influencing mortals; and if they do, it is subtle and indirect. The Masters are the only true supernatural force at work in the setting as far as power is concerned.
As one can imagine, this leaves the Hunters extremely vulnerable should their identities be discovered. The Masters are ancient and wise, but they are not omnipotent; most who learn of them and seek to oppose them are ended swiftly, but those who remain anonymous and deadly typically live on to become Hunters. A Hunter's worst fear is generally the enemy learning of his or her identity, because then the full wrath of the their quarry will be turned upon them and they shall then become the prey.
Hypothetical situation now. Pretend we have Hunter X who is tracking Herald Y, whom has been given a Gift. The Masters are obviously well within his/her soul. X is tracking Y, and they manage to become face-to-face. Y sees exactly what X's face looks like - nothing blocking it. Y dies, while X is living (injuries aside). The important thing is, he escapes and manages to continue wreak havoc to the Heralds. Now, would the Masters also know what the Hunter's face look like?
The answer is thus: the Masters do not share a hive-mind, nor do they always perceive what their Heralds do. They can catch glimpses of sensory information, perhaps enough to see a face, but only if one happened to be "looking" at just the right moment. The Masters are most often only present in a Herald's subconscious, where they are able to manipulate and mute the thoughts of their servants better. Keep in mind, the Master is never actually in the Herald; they merely project their influence to any who are under their call. Hunter X would likely have gone unseen unless a Master was keenly following Herald Y at the time for whatever reason; and even then, they would be just as likely to allow the situation to play out rather than warn their other minions.
Brief Dissertation On The Inner Machinations of Infernal Minds
Are you familiar with the concept of the Celestial Bureaucracy of Chinese mythology, by chance? If so, the Masters are organized very similarly. The entire race/culture of the Masters is centered around post and position within the chain of command. A Master who is especially brilliant and devious must still bow to their superiors; to deviate from the strict code of fealty is to invite utter destruction, and there are very few who would risk such for anything less than complete certainty that their actions will succeed and improve them in the eyes of those above. Second on the ladder of priority is personal power: usually in the form of the number of mortals they influence, what sort of powers they can invoke ("Gifts"; though not labeled as such by them, and much more powerful than the sort bestowed upon Heralds), and the size of the impact their presence has made upon the world(s) as a whole. Heralds can have more than one Master, and frequently do, even if they themselves do not realize it; servants are traded and loaned much like any other expendable commodity in the eyes of the Masters. Still, most Masters typically take the time to rear at least one "retainer" Herald for their exclusive use, and such a Herald is thus more likely to possess more Gifts of said Master.
The hierarchy of the Masters is a tangled web of protocol, millennia-old rivalries, and unwritten yet imperative formalities. As such, even its basest of functions and regulations are incomprehensible to most mortals. Long story short, the amount of knowledge and power a Master has usually matters little in terms of their post; the positions of the hierarchy (which I promise to detail more later) were decided in eons past, and very little fluxation has occurred since. It is a stagnant, banal system, but it is perhaps the one thing in the universe the Masters hold above reproach. A Master might be devastatingly powerful in terms of magick and artifice but still occupy a position of low standing because of some ancient slight or breach of conduct. The only approved way of improving one's station is a slow, wretched struggle to follow every trite whim of those above you and to accrue major successes in the hierarchy's various affairs on Earth.
Of course, for those particularly ruthless, cunning, or foolish Masters, there are quicker roads to power; no Master would ever escape with the murder of a comrade, but a carefully engineered assassination via the hands of a mortal may be overlooked as the actions of enemies from without...any Herald who manages to accomplish such a task is sure to be held in the highest esteem by their newly-elevated Master(s); however, it remains likely that they would be killed just as quickly in order to "tie up loose ends," so to speak.
There is no singular "Head Master"; but there are a few (perhaps half a dozen) who occupy the top tier of the hierarchy. These truly antediluvian beings are known as the Antecedents, and their actions and schemes are even a mystery to the other Masters who labor beneath them. When especially important events unfold, the Antecedents are almost always the final deciders of conflict.
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Posted: Wed Aug 19, 2009 3:47 pm
Saints and Sinners
Now, on to the characters. You may take the role of a Citizen, a Herald, or a Hunter. The malefic Masters are not currently playable, but might be unlocked in later stages of the roleplay as the plot develops. Copy and fill out the code below and then PM it to me; you’re free to add color and/or more decoration to it if you wish, so long as the main code stays intact. Quote: ⊕Gaia Username:⊕Name:⊕Gender:⊕Age:⊕Sexuality:⊕Role:⊕Brief Biography:⊕Interests & Personality:⊕Gifts:⊕Weapon(s):⊕Physical Appearance:⊕Other:
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Posted: Wed Aug 19, 2009 3:48 pm
Dossiers Quote: ⊕Gaia Username: KillerQueen Bash⊕Name: Ian West⊕Gender: Male⊕Age: Twelve⊕Sexuality: Pansexual⊕Role: Herald ⊕Brief Biography: Ian West has spent most of his life mesmerized by television and video games. With his eyes glazed over and drool dripping from the corners of his mouth, his doting mother and father began to get worried. After consulting a child psychologist, Ian's concerned parents deprived him of video games and cut back on his time that he sat in front of the television. He took to wandering the city and released his violence upon others.⊕Interests & Personality: Ian is a boy whom most would consider fairly dull. He is not athletically or intellectually gifted in any manner; rather, he is uncoordinated and struggles in school. Those who have tried to befriend him have found him to be cold, distant, and very slow to understand things. Despite all of this, his cool and calm manner cause him to be an object of fascination for many of his schoolmates, and is rarely made fun of because of it.⊕Gifts: However clumsy he is in words and actions, Ian is deft in finding people's weaknesses and how to utilize them to cause them the most pain. He is very sadistic and distant, with little regard for morals and the rules of society.⊕Weapon(s): Ian uses whatever is at hand to harm others, although he has an aged and rusty Swiss Army knife that he is particularly fond of. The knife was handed down from his grandfather to his father, and in turn down from Ian's father to himself.⊕Physical Appearance: ☸ ☸Quote: ⊕Gaia Username: Red D e a db e a r ⊕Name: Vega Ibanez ⊕Gender: Male ⊕Age: 21 ⊕Sexuality: Bisexual ⊕Role: Herald ⊕Brief Biography: Vega was born into a family of five. He lived in Chicago with his immigrant family, who had traveled from Mexico. For the first ten years of his working life he had succeeded in living a normal life, then the border patrol had gotten a hold of his family. He, unlike them, was not deported since he was born in the United States. A young Vega was sent to a foster home, where he was adopted many times. He would always make it back, since he was so prone to the life of of stealing and deceit. At the age of 18 he let out into the cruel world we call life. He was a school drop out that had learned only what simple people needed to know. After a couple of years in prison and rehab he knew that he needed to quit digging himself deeper into hell. He took up the simple job of packing and delivering. He now lives his normal life in a one room apartment, in the shabby part of town. He lives carefree, except for his responsibilities, and just wants to live his life. ⊕Interests & Personality: Vega is mostly a laid back kinda guy. He hardly talks and never disagrees with anything anyone says. He cares for nothing, since he feels that he has lost all and cant really raise up from where he is. Sometimes, on his bad days, you can see him in a silent state of depression. He has manic depression, and cannot control it, he hates the feelings he goes through when in this state; which leads to him cutting himself and doing other bodily harm. One moment he can be cheerful and nice, then the next he is pouty and mean. He almost never disrespects anyone, unless you give him a reason to. He is genuinely a nice and comforting person. He is very nice and loves the company of other people. Vega speaks with an accent, he hates when people point that out. It is almost impossible to get Vega mad, unless he is in his depressed mood...which is almost all the time. He doesn't get most jokes, and really doesn't respond well to sarcasm. He speaks perfect English, but the lack of education leaves him not knowing some big words. ⊕Gifts: Vega has just recently been given the Vicis Janus, a powerful artifact that bestows upon him the Gift of Fate. He is able to, on rare occasion, alter the normal course of events (either their beginnings or their endings; the catalysts generally remain the same) by manipulating the strands of time and chance. The Vicis however, like its namesake owner, has two faces. Meddling with Fate too often can have dire consequences. ⊕Weapon(s): Low Caliber Handgun. ⊕Physical Appearance: Vega isn't the tallest or most handsome person there is. He stands at 5'9'', and weighs at the least 155 lbs. He has many scars on his arms and hands from either cutting or getting cut. He has a pretty tone body, since he lifts and moves things. His skin is as pale as his latino brown skin can get. His eyes are Hazel. He sports a couple of piercings; He has his vampire bite's, gage's in each ear, and his tongue pierced. He has a tattoo of a pheonix on his back, the wings extend onto his shoulder and arms. ⊕Other: Vega is a chain smoker and he does drugs. His life is kind of messed up...he uses these to deal with his problems. Quote: ⊕Gaia Username: Rixaka the fallen ⊕Name: Mai June ⊕Gender: Female ⊕Age: 23 ⊕Sexuality: Bisexual ⊕Role: Hunter ⊕Brief Biography: Mai's parents ethnicity being that of Chinese had managed to move into Britain where they slowly, but surely picked up the English language. Mai was born in Britain 20 years ago but moved over to Canada when she was only 12. That summer was what began her slow climb to her secret working; being a hunter. It had started with the death of her best friend Abby, whom was brutally murdered after a month of disappearance and discovery of the body. Mai had loved her friend more than just a sister, but being brought up in a Catholic family, it was not condoned. Since then she has held a grudge against that one person who tortured and then killed her first curious love. That was the deciding point, she would follow a career in justice, not in the court room but on the streets. It had not taken her long to achieve her graduate in law enforcement (due to her over-willingness, calm mind and patience). After a few years of work she came across the very same cold case that had lead her life. Working tirelessly, she tracked down one of the last known locations of the murder, and that would be how she ended up in Los Vegas. ⊕Interests & Personality: Mai has many interests, she enjoys cooking, watching sports such as football, gardening and playing on the neighbourhood's adult soccer team. Mai, as a person, can be quite friendly, if she feels in the mood to be friendly, or cold and decisive when she knows someone isn't who they say they are. When she's working, she can be rather ruthless and unsympathetic towards who she is dealing with, depending on circumstances. Daily, and when she isn't working, she seems care-free and detached from the world. ⊕Gifts: Mai's only gifts are her determination and perseverance. She will stop at nothing to see justice brought upon those who are due punishment. ⊕Weapon(s): Knight's stick (or baton), low caliber hand gun, pepper spray, hand cuffs, a can of tear gas, and whatever else a police person would carry. ⊕Physical Appearance: Mai June⊕Other: Mai changed her last name when she moved to the United States after a bit of a family dispute. Her maiden name was Mai Chun as well as that she is not married or in a relationship. -Don't let Mai's size fool you, she maybe on the short side but she has taken plenty of self-defense training to protect herself. She is, however, not equip to deal with the supernatural, yet.
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Posted: Wed Aug 19, 2009 3:50 pm
M A P S / / L A N D S C A P E
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Posted: Wed Aug 19, 2009 3:51 pm
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Posted: Wed Aug 19, 2009 3:52 pm
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Posted: Wed Aug 19, 2009 4:02 pm
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Posted: Thu Aug 20, 2009 11:10 am
Vega had awoken to the cheap sound of his almost broken alarm clock. He hated the noise with a passion and slammed his hand on the buzzer harder and harder every morning. He hated his life, but also cherished living. It was hot and muggy in his small apartment. He hated it. He was wet, covered from head to toe in sweat. He felt nasty and made this evident by making a nasty face. He wore nothing, naked was the way he slept. It was too hot to put on anything. This was because; one he was too cheap to buy a fan, and two his landlord was too cheap to get central air for the building. Vega rose up out of his bed, opening his room window. He let everyone see the inside of his house, he didn't care. Even though he was sometimes arrested for indecent exposure, he didn't care. He wiped his eyes, trying to free them from the burning sun.
Vega turned around, starting his morning routine. This started off as so; He would do his morning scratches, then sort of kinda fix his bed. He would go to his closet and grab a towel, for his shower which was next to do on his list. After his five minute shower he would brush his teeth and his hair, but not with the same brush. He never ever dries off when exiting the shower, he believed the water would cool him down outside...even though the water usually drys before he even makes it out the five story building. So he put on his white and blue stripped T-shirt, with his ripped faded dark bluejeans. He wore some Nike flip-flops, which was probably the only name brand thing he owned. Vega grabbed his bag full of nothingness before he left and locked the door.
Vega put a cigarette into his mouth and proceeded to light it. He took a couple of puffs before walking towards the stairs which lead out of the building. It was still hot and muggy in the hall way, maybe more hotter than in his apartment. The building he walked through reminded him of some old retro horror movie, where the killer resided in a dingy old apartment. You could tell how old the building was because of water stains and peeling paint. It made Vega feel even worse about his life. He walked down the stair, his footsteps echoing through the corridor. When he made it to the exit he paused and flicked his dead cigarette to the ground. He was polite enough to stomp it out before he left. He stepped outside to the rustle and bustle of the urban town he lived in.
Vega had no car, nor a bike. He had always been planning on getting one but...he was too lazy. Vega whistled for a taxi, which luckily stopped for him. He worked for a packaging company, not a big one, so he didn't live the rich life. Vega told the man to take him to his destination. He pulled out another cigarette and lit it. He felt like he needed them, they made him feel way better. Later on in the day he would go see his dealer, so that he could get more things to make him feel even more better. Even though Vega hated the way he lived, he did little to help himself...so he did little bitching. He took a puff of his cigarette, then blew the smoke out in a very slow manner. Everything started to go slow at this moment.
It was weird, Vega felt as if he was flying. What the hell is this? He thought. Then it hit him, he could hear very faint whispers in the distance. He couldn't understand them...but this didn't stop him from listening. He wobbled side to side in the car, taking his cigarette out of is mouth and examining it. Was this laced with something? Vega blinked slowly and could feel the whisperer getting closer. It was this feeling like someone was right behind him. The whispers would get louder then quieter as if the person was running around. Vega ignored it for a minute then blacked out. In a deep voice that shook the very molecules that made up Vega someone or thing spoke. "Find my follower and I will lead you to your deepest desires...." Vega said nor thought anything for a few minutes. He didn't know what to think at the moment. What was happening to him? and Why?
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Posted: Sun Aug 23, 2009 6:52 am
 There is a great streak of violence
in every human being.●● ▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ xxxIan West mounted his Schwinn bicycle, a red Twizzler drooping from the corner of his mouth.
xxx"Where are you going, honey?" his mother called from the wrap-around porch, her voice carrying a tell-tale warble of worry and concern.
xxxIan smirked, chewing off a bit of the Twizzler.
xxx"The park, ma," he lied, pedaling into the street of the suburban neighborhood. His bike rode smooth on the hot asphalt, sunlight glimmering off of the spokes. His father had given him the Schwinn for his twelfth birthday; it was probably the best present he had ever received. His mom, however, gave him a set of books to help with his school work. She bitched a lot when he didn't use them. It isn't my fault you give shitty presents, ma, he remarked inwardly, chewing the remaining stub of the Twizzler.
xxxIan turned, heading towards downtown. A homeless man held out a tin cup to him, rattling the coins that laid inside. He slowed down, peering into the cup. He spat into it, glaring at the man as he rode off.
xxxEven at nine in the morning, downtown was bustling. There was a constant flow of people going in and out of Union Station. The area was crowded and hot, filled with all different sorts of people. There were business men, carrying briefcases and straightening their ties. There were what his mother called "dirty ladies", who wore skirts too short and tops too tight and too much makeup for her taste, but Ian thought they were prettier than his ma. They looked more like the women on TV than his mother did.
xxxFinally, Ian locked on what he was looking for; a lost child. She was petite and blonde, her blue-eyes sparkling with fear and confusion. The look on her face revealed it all--
where's my mommy and my daddy i miss them where are they mommy DADDY
--and Ian knew exactly what to do. He pedaled up to her and smiled.
xxx"Your Mommy and Daddy are looking for you," Ian murmured, touching the little girl on the arm. Her eyes widened. "They've been very worried. They sent me to find you for them."
xxxShe nodded, her blonde curls bobbing. "Okay." Ian picked her up and set her on the front of the bicycle.
xxxHe pedaled slowly, taking care not to look too rushed or nervous. To any bystander, he would look like a doting brother taking his little sister for a ride to the park.
xxxQuickly, he went through all of the downtown parks mentally, trying to find which one would be the closest. If he went too far from the Union Station, the little girl might become suspicious. The nearest park was in Chinatown, Alpine Park.
xxx"My mommy is pretty," the girl piped up, turning to look at Ian. "Is your mommy pretty? I bet my mommy is prettier than yours."
xxx"I'll bet she is," he murmured, muffling a laugh.▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ If it is not channeled and understood,
it will break out in war or in madness.●●
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Posted: Sun Aug 23, 2009 10:02 am
Head to cold metal; thump. "You have the right to remain silent, any words you say can and will be used in court." Mai shouted calmly at the handcuffed Caucasian male, whose head was melting into the steaming metal police car. He moaned, having looked like a world of hurt. So Mai had chased him for four blocks straight catching him in an alleyway, desperately trying to avoid the law. He was but a lowly criminal, one who would steal, shop lift and at the most, maybe hurt a few innocent bystanders. That's her and her partner always seemed to pick up, punks who felt themselves higher then the law. It disgusted her.
She pushed his head down into the backseat before slamming the police car's door, rather loudly than usual. Mai then wiped her forehead with a white handkerchief, shoving it back into her uniform pants as she entered the driver's side. "Geeze Tom, seems like we keep running into the masses of kid criminals these days."
Tom snickered and pulled on his seat belt; he was Mai's partner, Sir Justice the second, so nicknamed Mai a year or so ago. "They say crime never sleeps, why should it take a vacation?" He chuckled as she started up the car.
"I would hope for a day off. These Vegas days are starting to ware me out!" She exclaimed with a bit of a whine.
"I'm sure its just a hot day, nothing much more to it then that." Tom replied as he tuned the radio for any new developing crimes in progress.
"I bet you would like a day off, you know, to spend with the kids," Mai replied pulling the car onto the road again.
"Ha ha, you're right. A day off does sound nice," Tom agreed as he placed his arm on the car door, dangling it out of the car.
It had been a short, hot and sticky ride to the station followed by moving the criminal into one of the holding cells while Tom went over the details about bail and his rights to a lawyer.
"It's only 10 am but we've already hauled down three guys, why does it seem like everything we do has little to no effect on society?"
"Oh cheer up Mai," sounded the commissioner's voice. "You are making a difference. It's just a slow process, that's all."
Mai shrugged slightly as she crossed her cooling arms. The police station was air conditioned, which she thanked highly for or else she would be cooking from the inside out. "I know but it gets so repetitive, always picking up the same guys, how do they keep making bail?" Mai slumped down into one of the seats and removed her cap. "Its not easy."
- - -
Soon enough, once tom was done, were the two of them out and about. On their way down one of the main streets, towards China town's park did Mai notice something unusual, for her at least. A young boy riding with a younger girl on his lap. She wasn't one to judge by appearances but something in her gut, deep down, was telling her to pull over and talk to the boy and girl.
Tom looked over at Mai curiously and smiled as they slowly passed the two. "Out for a little bike ride?" Tom grinned as the car slowed down to keep pace with the two.
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Posted: Sun Aug 23, 2009 1:32 pm
[[Not riding on his lap, but on the handlebars. Like this.]]There is a great streak of violence
in every human being.●● ▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ xxxIan felt pretty good. The sun was beating down on his face, he had found a lost little girl, and nobody had even given him a second look. Sure, real life wasn't as good as his video games, but it was starting to get better and better. His father had pumped up the air in his tires this morning, and it made for a smooth ride on the sidewalk. The little girl reached out her tanned arm as a butterfly fluttered past the bicycle.
xxx"Your mommy and daddy didn't tell me your name," Ian said quietly. "They said you were a lost little girl and showed me a picture of you, and I found you. But they never told me your name. What's your name?
xxx"My name is Mary," the little girl said, shifting on the handlebars.
xxx"Mary is a pretty name," Ian said, eying a cop car. "My name's Joseph," he lied. "Do you wanna play a game?
xxxThe little girl squealed with glee. "A game?"
xxx"You pretend to be my little sister, and I pretend to be your big brother. We're going to the park to play catch." He slowed as the cop car approached, seeing a woman sitting at the driver's seat. Women were always harder to fool than men. This one was particularly sharp-eyed, and the passenger wasn't just fat mall security, either.
xxx"Out for a little bike ride?" the cop asked, her partner grinning like an a*****e.
xxxBefore Ian could reply, Mary offered an answer. "My name is Mary and this is my big brother Joseph and we're going to the park to go play catch!" she announced loudly in one breath. Ian smiled and ruffled Mary's hair, playing the part of an affectionate older brother.
▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ If it is not channeled and understood,
it will break out in war or in madness.●●
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