After Benny explains his theory to Carla, they leave to have dinner with Belle, the medical examiner, and her mother. The evening is pleasant, if wearing. Belle flirts with you madly, and her mother goes off into biblical rants at times throughout the meal. She's obviously semi-senile. She goes on about a number of people who have been "healed" by Gordon, and mentions a few names, which Carla notes down. She seems to think that Gordon was close to being a saint, but also mentions his...less than saintly past, of which little secret was made apparently. Most of what she says only serves to corroborate what you dug out of the newspapers while at the library. After the meal Benny and Carla head back to the motel.

Benny: "Hey Carla, why so quiet?"

Carla: "I don't feel so good..."

Benny: "Ok, just go to sleep. You'll feel better in the morning."

Carla: "Okay..."

Benny drives to the motel and helps her to her room.

CM: Sleep comes quickly to you, and in the morning...

Carla is locked in the bathroom.

Benny: "Carla, are you ok?"

Carla: "Oh Godddd."

Benny: "I promise I won't smoke inside again. Tell you what, you just stay in, while I dig up more stuff. Try and read, if you feel up to it."

Carla: "We've...we've got the meeting today. Ten AM, with Richard B...B...Blackwell. Remember?" She retches again.

Benny: "Oh hell. I'd forgotten."

Carla: "Ohhh, Raaalllffff."

Benny: "Oh my. You're in no shape to go. I'd better go in your place."

Carla tells Benny that the meeting was scheduled for ten AM, at "Leo's place", a diner on JFK Street off Harvard Square.

Benny: "JFK street, Harvard square... damned pretentiousness. Bostonians," Benny mutters to himself. He drives to Leo's.

CM: "Leo's Place" is unremarkable, a hole-in-the-wall diner located between a chain pharmacy and an Irish bar. It's cleaner than most, and a large front window lets plenty of light in.

Benny looks at his watch.

CM: The city feels oddly edgy today, as if it's holding it's breath. It's just ten AM.

Benny: "I guess corned beef for breakfast isn't that bad...Might take some of the edginess away. Buuuut I guess it will have to wait."

CM: Today the air is hot and slick, thick with breakfast grease and tobacco smoke from a number of customers cheerfully ignoring the "no smoking" laws. At ten O'Clock, the diner is still packed with stragglers from the rush hour crowd and is beginning to see the first of those too hungry to wait until lunch.

Benny lights a cig.

CM: The clientele is mixed; pale British tourists looking for "local flavour", harried business types in expensive suits, punks and hippies, retail wage slaves, students, stressed moms and screaming kids.

Benny sits on a stool, taking it all in.

CM: The air feels stretched and taut, pregnant with  tension. Behind the counter, a small busy man with straggly hair and a prominent nose nods to you as you enter. "What can I get you?" he says, waving his hands as if all the delicacies of the world await you.

Benny: "Some coffee, and something to eat. Whatever special you got."

CM: "Coming right up. bub", he nods, then turns away and barks something incomprehensible to the sweating man at the grill.

Benny: Nice place, this joint.

CM: A dark haired man in a sharp suit catches your eye and gestures at you from his table at the back of the Diner. With him is another man, who is sitting with his back to you. It's only when you get closer that you realise he's watching you carefully in the mirror on the far wall. This must be Richard Blackwell.

Benny nods back and walks towards him.

CM: A powerfully built young man in a Harvard jacket jostles you, but apologises swiftly. He then moves down the counter and greets a clutch of identically dressed friends, who cheer at his approach.

Benny smirks towards Blackwell and approaches slowly.

CM: A group of bikers monopolise two tables at the front of the diner, roaring with ribald laughter.

Benny looks around nervously, almost thinking out loud something is wrong. "I'd better not have that coffee after all."

Blackwell: "Mr Fitzpatrick?"

Benny: "Yep. Blackwell, right? Everyone calls me Benny. Friends or not." Benny extends a hand in greeting.

Blackwell shakes Benny's hand. His palm is clammy. He lets go of Benny's hand and indicates the other man.

Blackwell: "This is my associate, Mr Riker. He can be trusted."

Benny nods. "Sure."

Private message from CM to Benny: One of the patrons, a young student with close cropped blonde hair and a celtic band tattoo on her arm, smiles at you across the crowded diner.

Riker smile thinly. He's dressed in a fairly heavy leather jacket; sandy brown hair, crewcut, blue eyes. A seemingly perpetual forwn is etched on his face, and a thin trail of scar tissue crosses his right eye and cheek. He gives Benny the once over.   "How's it goin', Benny? Have a seat." He waves one hand at a chair. "Looks more natural."

Benny smiles back at the girl, then focuses for a while on Riker and Blackwell. "Why don't we go for a walk instead."

CM: Somewhere in the background din, a mother is telling her child, "for the last time..."

Blackwell: "I'd prefer to remain put, if you don't mind." Blackwell leans forward conspiratorially. "I was planning to give you hell about operating in my city without coming through me, but things have changed."

Benny: "Ah, well. I kind of was looking forward to your giving me hell. Are you sure we are safe."

Riker slides at glance at Blackwell, frowning, then back to Benny.

Blackwell wipes sweat from his eyes.

CM: By the rear exit, a wino is arguing with the diner's owner.

Benny: "It is interesting that you recognized me so quickly."

Blackwell smiles, and flips a copy of your file onto the table.

Benny: "I've always wanted to take a peek at one of these."

Blackwell: "Something's brewing here, something big. Damn me for not seeing it earlier."

Benny picks up and opens it, reading anything that catches his eye.

CM: Blackwell seems almost feverish, as if consumed by some powerful fear.

Benny: "Too many people here, Blackwell."

Blackwell: "It's in the files, if you know where to look. He's been here all the time, right under our noses."

Benny: "What files? Who has been here?"

Blackwell's eyes are wild.

Benny looks at Riker for a second. "What'is wrong with him?"

CM: With a dull smack, the fry chefs head explodes in a shower of blood and brain fragments. Fear Rolls please.

DICE for Benny: (1d100) = [ 14 ]
DICE for Riker: (1d100) = [ 59 ]

Benny: "I told you we should leave!!"

Riker hisses, "Shut up, shut up...get down, you idiot!"

Benny: "Don't tell me what to do, smartass!!"

DICE for CM: (1d10) = [ 4 ]

Riker: "Fuck!"

CM: The wino at the back of the diner has a battered UZI in each hand, and is roaring with rage as bullets tear into the crowd. The bikers open fire in retaliation with a number of shotguns, magically produced from beneath the table. The pretty young student takes a bullet in the eye. Her body twitches spastically as her skull blooms like a crimson flower.

Riker reaches up, cold sweat spilling from his pores, and tries to yank Blackwell to the ground with one hand.  The other has his jacket open, revealing a pistol that might be best described as 'intimidatingly large'.

CM: Luck rolls please

Benny: "I knew it, I knew it."

DICE for Riker: (1d100) = [ 87 ]
DICE for Benny: (1d100) = [ 98 ]

DICE for CM: (2d10) : 2d10=4,3  = [ 7 ]
DICE for CM: (1d4) = [ 2 ]

DICE for CM: (2d10) : 2d10=4,9  = [ 13 ]
DICE for CM: (1d6) = [ 4 ]

Benny hisses and curses his luck for not bringing a firearm.

CM: The Harvard man leaps to his feet and dies as a shotgun blast empties his chest cavity over your table.

Benny looks around for a possible exit from th carnage.

CM: The air is suddenly hot, and you both experience an odd lurching sensation, as if the diner were on the open sea. PCN roll Benny.

Riker grunts as shrapnel and maybe the odd pellet slam into his body.  Black leather gets stained crimson, both from his wounds, and the jock emptying his guts.  He's still trying to yank the upright Blackwell down, while getting the monster handgun out.

DICE for Benny: (1d100) = [ 20 ]
Private message from CM to Benny: You can see that you're effectively cut off. The Wino is in front of the rear exit, and the bikers have the front covered. The only way out would appear to be over the counter and out that way, but that means crossing the field of fire.

Riker hisses, "SHIT!"  Quick glance at Blackwell -- how much's left?

CM: Amazingly, Blackwell appears intact.

Riker: Good.  The handgun's out, and tracking towards the back entrance, where Mr. Chattergun is hosing the crowd.

Benny: "Riker, the wino is blocking our exit."

CM: Blood is pooling on the tiled floor.

Benny: "The only way out is over the counterm but that would expose us to mucho lead."

CM: A rich roasting smell is rising from the grill, where the chefs brains are almost done.

Riker says, teeth gritted, "No kiddin'."  Red dot, brighter than the blood, starts sliding up, silent, towards the Uzi gunman.  "Fix that right now..."

Benny: "Damn, I should get one of those. Bah, who am I kidding. This is it."

Private message from Riker to CM: The second Riker gets a bead, he's popping the wino.
Private message from CM to Riker: Make the roll. He's reasonably close, with no cover. Why the bikers haven't dropped him yet is a mystery.

DICE for Riker: (1d100) = [ 68 ]

DICE for Riker: (1d100) = [ 62 ]
DICE for Benny: (1d100) = [ 60 ]
DICE for CM: (2d10+3) : 2d10=1,6  = [ 10 ]
DICE for CM: (2d10) : 2d10=9,5  = [ 14 ]
DICE for CM: (1d6) = [ 1 ]

Benny looks at his blood stained shirt and then tries to grab the files while hoping that Riker hits the insane wino.

Riker's face is a mask of pain, fear, and pissed-off.  He starts towards the backdoor, soldier-crawling through the chunks, blood, and spilled beer.  With luck, the jacket'll take most of the damage.  Gun's still out, too.  "Stay low, stay low.  Gonna try an' get us out."

CM: There's a pause in the firing. Something grabs Riker by the collar and yanks him upright.

Benny: Benny thanks whoever is watching over him for that nasty piece of glass that just grazed his neck. A few millimetres closer and who knows.

Riker grimaces, blood still coming off him like water off a fish.  A split second to assess who's grabbing him, then they get an elbow in the gut.

CM: It's the wino, his face a bloody mask of insanity. Half of his skull has been blown away by a shotgun blast, and maggots are spilling out onto his greasy coat.

Wino: "GOIN' SOMEWHERE RIKER?"

CM: FEAR Roll, please

DICE for Riker: (1d100) = [ 57 ]
DICE for Benny: (1d100) = [ 59 ]
DICE for CM: (1d10) = [ 2 ]
DICE for CM: (1d10) = [ 2 ]

Benny looks for the UZI's.

Riker yells, at that, "Gaaaaaah, FUCK!"  Twisting, trying to get the gun up, walk the shots from the knees to the thing's skull.  Take it apart, take it away.

Private message from CM to Riker: Make three combat rolls.
DICE for Riker: (1d100) = [ 22 ]
DICE for Riker: (1d100) = [ 21 ]
DICE for Riker: (1d100) = [ 67 ]
Private message from CM to Benny: PCN roll
DICE for Benny: (1d100) = [ 87 ]
Private message from CM to Benny:You can't see the UZI anywhere.
DICE for CM: (3D10+3) : 3D10=6,4,8  = [ 21 ]
DICE for CM: (3D10+3) : 3D10=7,7,8  = [ 25 ]
DICE for CM: (2D10+3) : 2D10=7,1  = [ 11 ]

Riker: That's good.  He maybe ought to fall apart right now.

The wino bucks and dances as the slugs impact, filth exploding out of the exit wounds.

Wino: "HAHAHAHAHAHA.... HAVE TO TRY HARDER THAN THAT RIKER. DONOVAN DID."

CM: You can hear sirens in the distance...

Benny looks for a fire extinguisher.

Private message from CM to Benny: Behind the counter, next to the grille, you can see the top of a small extinguisher.

CM: Str roll.

DICE for Riker: (1d100) = [ 69 ]

Benny goes for the fire extinguisher.

CM: Agl roll Benny

DICE for Benny: (1d100) = [ 25 ]

Private message from CM to Riker: AGL roll
DICE for Riker: (1d100) = [ 16 ]

CM: Riker twists in the creatures grips and kicks out against the wall, just as Benny leaps up and dives for the fire extinguisher next to the grill. The pair of you dive over the counter at the same time. At the same instant, the bikers resume fire, sending a wall of shot and solid slugs down the diner, and into the decaying wino.

Riker yells, "Busy!!!" It'd be comedic, if shotguns and rotting corpses weren't involved.  He sails over the counter like a soccer pro protecting the goal.

Benny opens the extinguisher firing first towards the wino, hoping the extreme cold will do something, and in the worst scenario that the CO2 cloud makes shooting at them a bit more difficult.

CM: As the CO2 covers the area in white fog, you both see the wino come apart under the withering hail of fire.

Riker pants, coming down hard, bouncing halfway up again.  "Door."

Benny: "Right behind you" He continues to spray the cold gases as he crawls towards the door.

CM: PCN rolls

DICE for Riker: (1d100) = [ 96 ]
DICE for Benny: (1d100) = [ 69 ]
DICE for CM: (1d100) = [ 52 ]
DICE for CM: (1d100) = [ 51 ]

Riker spares a quick look around for Blackwell.

CM: You left him in the diner

Benny: Once the tank is empty he throws it in the direction of the rotting wino.

CM: Sirens are almost deafening now. Are you heading into the alley?

Benny: "Let's get out of here."

Riker curses, a third time, and pushes past Benny, back into the diner. "Right behind you," he grinds out. It's one of those days.  "Blackwell!"

DICE for CM: (1d100) = [ 96 ]

Private message from CM to Riker: Suddenly, there is silence. Heavy and unnatural.
Private message from CM to Benny: Sense Unknown roll, please.
DICE for Benny: (1d100) = [ 8 ]
Private message from CM to Benny: Something sends your skin suddenly crawling.

Riker snakes around the counter, teeth clenched. Then, suddenly, there's too much damn weird, and he books it. Ain't worth his ass, and Blackwell's got a lawyer.

Private message from CM to Riker: There's a white light pouring over the counter. Suddenly the diner is cold, every sound perfectly magnified and clear. You can hear your heart beating as something moves amongst the bodies.

Riker throws one arm up over his eyes - what's the line?  'Don't look!' - and goes for the door. Blackwell either heard him, or he didn't. Hopefully, the guy's got enough good sense to get out.  Riker sure as hell does.

Private message from CM to Riker: There's a sound like a whining dog, which you suddenly realise is coming from the bikers...

Benny: "RIKER!!!"

Private message from CM to Riker:  As you reach the door you hear a sentence, as clear as if it was pronounced in your ear.

Riker says, mostly to himself, to stay up, block the pain -- "Yeah...you an' Jesus fuckin' Christ..."

Benny: "Oh. Shit."

CM: The diner erupts in a ball of white fire. The image is brighter than the sun, searing into your eyeballs...The heat sucks the air out of your lungs, and scorches your faces...Then something slaps at you like a giant hand...

CM: ....

CM: ....

CM: ....

CM: The light hurts your eyes, and there's dust in your mouth...Somewhere, some inconsiderate bastard is ringing a gong...
Riker coughs, reflexively, spits. What the...too early to be up, mom...

Woman: "Don't move just yet..."

Benny: "I hate this city," he grumbles as he looks around, half expecting clouds and harps.

The woman wipes dust from your faces with a wet cloth.

Riker's hand gropes for his pistol. Damn things're expensive. "Don't move," she says. Don't move my ass...bombs going off, killer zombie winos. "Voodoo bullshit," he growls.  Then coughs, ruining the tough-guy moment.

Benny: "Who're you? What is going on?"

CM: You're both at half your normal STA.

Benny follows Riker's voice and grimaces. This guy is getting on his nerves big time.

Riker croaks, "Benny? Blackwell?"

Benny: "Blackwell, are you there?"

CM: You're in the shadow of an enormous dumpster...

Benny looks for their benefactor.

CM: There's rubble all around you, and you can hear voices calling to each other through the dust and gloom. Search beams filter through the dust hanging in the air...

Riker groans, low.  "Benny, you okay?  Where's Blackwell?  He make it out?"  Trying to sit up, and blink the sun on Earth out of his eyes.

Benny: "How the hell should I know?"

Woman: "Your friend is dead, Alan. I'm sorry."

Benny: "Alan? Is that you Riker?  How'd you feel?"

Riker: "Like I been dropped from the Chrysler Building. God damn it."  He blinks, grimaces. More people who know his name.  Is she good-looking, at least?

The woman is stunning, dark haired and fine boned. She looks oddly familiar.

Riker: "Yeah, it's me. Alan Riker. Last time I checked, at least."  He squints at the woman. "Who're you?"

Benny wonders if it is the dust in his eyes which is giving him this vision of perfection. He may be dead after all.

Woman: "An observer. No Benny, you're not dead."

Benny merely arches an eyebrow and lets his painful body slump.

The woman smiles gently.

Riker grits his teeth again. "Riiight, okay." He fumbles around for his piece. "Mind filling us in, or is this some kinda surreal voodoo CNN sorta thing?"

Benny almost jumps and feels a sharp pain through his back and neck.

Woman: "There's not much I can tell you. I'm not trying to be obtuse. I'm...under orders."

Benny: "Tell us what you can. I have a feeling we may owe our lives to you."

Woman: "I can tell you this. Something terrible has been unleashed, something that should never have been allowed. You have to stop it."

Benny: "Can you tell us your name?"

The woman smiles.

Riker: "Big badda boom. Bad guys with incendiaries, zombie bums, psycho bikers. All in a day's work."  Where's his damn piece?  "Look, maybe this ain't such a hot place to talk.  Bad service, coffee sucks, and the patrons're noisy."

Woman: "Yes, I can tell you my name."

Riker coughs again. Gotta give up that tough-guy act. "Names're good.  I'm Alan, he's Benny, you are...?"

Woman: "I am Uriel."

CM: And then she is gone...
 

Session ends