Over the Edge: Sunburn
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Human Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: MadPanda on 22-05-2013, 06:31:00</h2>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>22-05-2013, 06:31:00</strong>
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				<strong>Archibald</strong><br><br>The Ninth Viscount Warburton has the little sidewalk cafe to himself this morning.&nbsp; The sun is shining, the sky is pleasantly blue, and the usual hustle and bustle has died away for an hour or so--most of the tourists are still abed, since this is Sunday, and most of them doubtlessly partied too hard last night.&nbsp; It's enough to make a dignified gentleman of wealth and taste chuckle in his tea.&nbsp; The only downside to his pleasant stay on this island, so far, is that his old friend Bridgeman has not yet arrived!&nbsp; They were supposed to meet on Thursday, but the charming scoundrel has somehow managed to avoid making the proper rendezvous.&nbsp; No doubt he met some charming little Swiss gel whilst in Zurich and forgot the time...again...<br><br>As Archibald enjoys the morning sun, someone approaches: not the waiter, who is skinny and black and has a number of piercings that make the lad look rather fierce.&nbsp; Instead, this is an older fellow, older than Archibald, bald, rather stout around the middle, and bearing a walrus mustache that rings an immediate alarm bell in the nobleman's mind.&nbsp; That this ghost is also wearing tacky khaki shorts and a garish floral print shirt does little to distract Archibald's attention from the bottle of gin and two tiny glasses on the tray in the man's arms.<br><br>The man's name is Yazkov.&nbsp; He is...or, rather, was...one of the Soviet Union' more infamous spymasters.&nbsp; He's also supposed to be quite deceased.<br><br>"A peace offering," Yazkov offers as he sets down the tray.&nbsp; "One scholar to another.&nbsp; Since we are both on vacation, yes?"<br><br>Without waiting for Archibald to grant permission, he takes the seat opposite the Viscount.<br><br>"I have some unfortunate news for you, I'm afraid.&nbsp; If you would prefer, I know where one might find an MI6 agent or two, if you'd rather hear it from them."<br><br><br><strong>Alexi and Ysabel</strong><br><br>The pounding on the door is what wakes both of the occupants of this room from their fitful slumber--the room is in sorry shape, and there is a persistent reek of alcohol, which goes a long way to explain the hangovers that both are currently experiencing.&nbsp; It may also explain a few moments of confusion while each gets their bearings...<br><br>But two things are definitely crystal clear.&nbsp; One, neither recognizes the other.&nbsp; And two, both are certain that this is not their hotel room.<br><br>The pounding gets louder.<br><br>"C'mon, open up!&nbsp; I forgot my keys!"&nbsp; The speaker sounds vaguely like Steve Buscemi.&nbsp; And annoyed.&nbsp; "Lex!&nbsp; Izzy!&nbsp; Open the fucking door before I bust it down, wouldja?"
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Blythe</strong> on <strong>22-05-2013, 22:29:18</strong>
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				All Ysabel can think is that this is not the first time she's woken up in a hotel room reeking of alcohol; she was guilty of it so many times during her affair, but at least she used to remember the day before. Today is different. She feels the hangover pounding like a three year old smacking a pinata, and she wonders exactly how much she drank. She casts an appraising look to the man near her. He's got brown hair and brown eyes, with a plain sort of face that Ysabel knows tends to fade into a crowd, but he's wiry and lean, and gives her the impression of a taut steel cable. <br><br>This isn't her hotel room. That thought hangs in her mind like the sword of Damocles. How did she get here? She knows that she certainly didn't bring herself...or did she? Last thing she remembered, she was furious about her situation with the FBI, and with what little money she had, she'd checked into a hotel to cool her heels.&nbsp; How drunk was she last night? For that matter, why was this man with her? She wants to go with her gut and assume that if she's puzzled and baffled by all of this, then so is he.&nbsp; If someone wanted her dead, they could have killed her already. Unless they needed to kill her a certain way. If she were more inclined to show emotions, she would shudder at the memory of one of her last cases involving a serial killer named Teeth.<br><br>But the pounding on the door startles her. Who the hell are Lex and Izzy? Her first instinct to to grasp around and get her gun, and she does, but she doesn't raise it. No immediate threat. The room is shoddy, ill-made, reminding Ysabel of all the previous cheap hotel rooms the FBI paid to put her up in whenever she was on assignment; if they could go cheap, they did. She looks around for a set of keys. All she says to the unknown man near her is, <strong>"Rise and shine, apparently. Somebody out there really wants their keys." </strong>She's careful not to behave overtly threatening. She reached for her old familiar gun, normally kept by her bedside wherever she went, only to realize that she was grasping at thin air. <em>No gun. </em><br><br>Fuck. Keys. Keys first.<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>AlexStone</strong> on <strong>24-05-2013, 02:39:26</strong>
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				The pounding.&nbsp; It really, really needed to stop.&nbsp; His head was trapped in a vice, and something was crushing it on all sides.&nbsp; Or maybe it was inside his brain?&nbsp; That was a really, really tough question.&nbsp; Still.&nbsp; The thing doing the pounding hadn't stopped, and then with the yelling.&nbsp; At least the door muffled it.&nbsp; Alexi pulled the pillow down over his head, and figured someone would give up eventually.&nbsp; <br><br>And then someone in the room shouted.&nbsp; And the pounding continued.&nbsp; "Бога, остановитесь с стучать!"<sup>1</sup> All the activity made him finally sit up- he was shirtless, which was surprising, and wearing pants, which was disappointing, considering who else was in the room with him.&nbsp; He checked- no gun.&nbsp; Not on the nightstand, either.&nbsp; Damn.&nbsp; That's annoying.&nbsp; The woman wasn't making a move towards him, so he could at least take a moment to shake the cobwebs out of his head, even as the guy on the other side of the shouted for his keys again.&nbsp; <br><br>He turned to the woman as she spoke to him.&nbsp; "<em>Who</em> wants their keys? Why would they think we have them?&nbsp; Who are you, anyway?"&nbsp; Despite his earlier Slavic exclamation, he spoke English with a Germanic accent.&nbsp; He looked around to see if there was even a window in this cheap room, and then he'd have to look to see just how far it was down. "I suggest we get the hell out of here, and then try to figure out how we got here.&nbsp; Unless, perhaps you want to whack the guy out there on the head, and ask him some very pointed questions?"<br><br><br><br><br><sup>1</sup> I apologize to anyone who actually speaks Russian, that came out of Google Translate.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>24-05-2013, 04:55:50</strong>
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				After another few moments of pounding,&nbsp; the man outside resorts to a resigned tone.&nbsp; "Okay, fine.&nbsp; I get the picture!&nbsp; I'll just take this six pack with me and go and find someone who can pick locks.&nbsp; Should give you two lovebirds another twenty minutes to rise and shine and get dressed before you get an audience."
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				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ebb</strong> on <strong>24-05-2013, 05:25:21</strong>
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				Archibald's left eyebrow rose slightly, an expression of great surprise, but he did not object to Yazkov joining him. The man brought gin, after all, and by the clock tower across the square it was almost time to break his sober fast for the second time today. To buy time Archie carefully filled the two small glasses, then set one in front of each of the two of them. This certainly was an extraordinary sight. Archie hadn't attended Yazkov's funeral, but he had sent flowers. That seemed quite a waste of thirty pounds at this juncture.<br><br>In the espionage community of which Archie considered himself only an affiliate member, Yazkov was a big name indeed. In fact if it hadn't been for the two men's shared love of chess Archie doubted whether they ever would have crossed paths, much less developed a sort of unorthodox long distance friendship. Archie had never quite been sure whether he owed his life to the Russian or not; the affair in Helsinki had never been fully explained to him, and after seven years he had given up asking. <br><br>"I must say, Yazkov, that you're looking rather more... vibrant than I had been led to expect. His tone made clear he was not referring to the man's nearly electric shirt. Or at least only in part. "News is news, though, and I'd be happy to hear it from you directly. Is it only me, or are the foreign papers here always three days old? And, I suspect, censored to boot."<br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>24-05-2013, 05:43:52</strong>
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				"There aren't many foreign papers at all.&nbsp; This," he brandishes the paper, "I liberated from newly arriving tourist who didn't need it any more."<br><br>He passes it over.&nbsp; The headline is something about a plane crash in the Alps.&nbsp; Horrible, of course, but not...<br><br>Wait.<br><br>The subheader is 'Ninth Viscount Warburton Among The Victims", and there is a photo of Archibald and his old friend Eric boarding the presumably doomed plane.<br><br>"Clever of them, isn't it?&nbsp; I didn't get a plane crash, just a regrettable climbing accident near my father's dacha in the Urals." Yazkov chuckles and raises his glass.&nbsp; "As one ghost to another, your very good health."
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Blythe</strong> on <strong>24-05-2013, 12:28:30</strong>
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				Ysabel immediately tries to place the accent of the man when he speaks. European origin? No. That didn't sound remotely like the langauge he'd uttered for a brief moment out loud. <em>He sounds like something Slavic or some other langauge that probably uses Cyrillic, but I can't be sure,</em> she thought to herself. Those languages were not her specialty; she hadn't studied those. Hmmm. His accent seemed Germanic, really, from what she could tell, although it was hard to be sure. <br><br>Ysabel heard the person outside complaining, mentioning something about lovebirds? She gave a brief twitch of her eyelid, quite miffed at the thought, and she dismissed it instantly. She was clothed, after all. Jeans, black top, sunglasses. Check, check, and check. Boots, too. Wait. Izzy. Izzy? Like...Ysabel? A nickname? Was someone at the door who knew her? But it was too late; she'd have to give them the keys in twenty minutes when they came back. If there were even keys in the room; she couldn't find any while she was hunting around. <br><br>She answered the stranger, <strong>"I'll answer your questions in order. One: Not a damn clue who wants their keys, only that they want them. Two: This might be that guy's room. I sure didn't buy it. Not in my recent memory. And three: the name's Ysabel. If we're going to get out of here and do a bit of talking, mind telling me who you are and if you remember last night?"</strong> She patted around her pockets and tried to ascertain if her bare essentials, like her wallet or I.D., were there as she talked. She waited for the man outside to actually leave before popping open the door, watching at the keyhole to be sure he was gone. She popped open the door only a crack, scanning the area the way she would do a stakeout, taking a look outside. Seemed...safe enough. 
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>25-05-2013, 05:42:18</strong>
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				Ysabel can easily verify that her wallet is here, but not her passport...or driver's license...or credit cards.&nbsp; She still has cash, at least.<br><br>The man outside doesn't leave just yet.<br><br>"Izzy?&nbsp; C'mon, Izzy, just open the door, willya?&nbsp; I brought the beer."<br><br>Peering through the little security hole in the door (the keyhole isn't the sort she can look through) Izzy sees...well, he not only sounds like a young Steve Buscemi, he looks like him.&nbsp; Black pants.&nbsp; White shirt.&nbsp; Narrow black tie.&nbsp; Bright pink sport jacket.&nbsp; And sunglasses.&nbsp; He's holding a six-pack of bottles in one hand.&nbsp; Beyond him, it looks brightly sunny and paved, but run down.&nbsp; So there's a parking lot or something out there.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ebb</strong> on <strong>25-05-2013, 06:18:25</strong>
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				This called for the rapid emptying of a glass of gin, and Archie's mouth was currently unoccupied, the Viscount having temporarily misplaced the power of speech. He read over the article twice. There was a rather flattering account of his life and times, leaving out any spy-related business but stressing his philanthropic work strongly. Those charities would be even happier to learn of his demise, as the bulk of his fortunes were destined for various endowments and foundations. Unless they'd changed his will as well. <br><br>Curiously, the emotion he felt strongest, after shock, was something more like... elation. Perhaps not as happy, but a feeling of lightness and lack of connectivity. He was reading, in black and white, that his entire life was now gone. And somehow that was not quite the blow he would have expected. After all, what did he have to show for the last seven years? A few published scholarly works that were read mostly by college students forced to do so. A hundred or so crossword puzzles. Perhaps half a dozen incidents where his assistance may or may not have been useful to MI6; it was so hard to tell. What, in fact, had he lost? <br><br>The answer to that question would become blazingly apparent in the days to come.<br><br>At the bottom of his second glass he found his tongue. "Eric?" he asked. "Is he truly dead, or does he tarry with we spirits?" He <em>would</em> mourn Eric, and held his breath awaiting the reply.<br><br>"And if it's not too much to ask... who exactly are 'They' in this particular equation?"<br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>AlexStone</strong> on <strong>25-05-2013, 15:08:45</strong>
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				As the guy kept yelling, Alexi looked around the room quickly, and found an empty liquor bottle lying around.&nbsp; He gave it a couple of test swings, and nodded to himself.&nbsp; "I.. don't really remember last night.&nbsp; I hope that, i you do, I wasn't overly disappointing.&nbsp; In fact, the last thing I remember was entering the bar of the Hotel Elysee to me a.. friend.&nbsp; Who was a middle aged man, not a woman like yourself.&nbsp; I'd remember that much."&nbsp; He headed over to the door, taking his turn looking out the peephole.&nbsp; "I guess we're in a different hotel, though.&nbsp; Elysee is a bit nicer, if I remember."&nbsp; He admired the pluck of the man outside, wearing an outfit like that, while he considered what to tell Ysabel.&nbsp; When in doubt, probably best to stick with at least some form of cover.&nbsp; "I'm Hans Brackenhaus, and I specialize in the machine tool trade between certain firms in West Germany and the Soviet Union.&nbsp; And, if I owe you money, I'll gladly pay you once we get out of here."<br><br>He looked back through the peephole. "Here is what I propose: First, we let this man with no fashion sense through the door.&nbsp; 2) I hit him on the head with this bottle.&nbsp; 3) We tie him hip with the electrical cords from the lamps. 4) We find out if the Bulgarians, the Stassi or the GRU sent him, by whatever means are required. 4) We take his beer.&nbsp; This way, if we have to kill him, we will have his beer, at least."&nbsp; <br>&nbsp; 
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Blythe</strong> on <strong>26-05-2013, 01:52:38</strong>
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				Ysabel flips through the wallet, a quiet panic rising in her chest. This now seems painfully deliberate. Just cash. No I.D., no passport, nothing that gives a clue as to who she really is. She strongly suspect that everything happening is now some sort of set-up. But as soon as he mentions owing her money, her face reddens in barely contained rage....that likely looks more like severe embarassment. But she doesn't say anything. She quickly allows her mood to even out. Why the hell not?<br><br>She grins and says, "Call it a standard C-note when we're out of here." Best not to ruin his assumptions of her. And when he talked about interrogating the stranger with the beer, Ysabel knew something was up with him. That type of torture for interrogation suggested that "Hans" here was probably not really a machine tools trader. Oh well. Two people could lie.<br><br>She hissed, <strong>"Are you for real? You want to knock someone out and interrogate them like that? If he's <em>not</em> sent by any of those people, how are you going to explain hurting a civilian? And if he is, he's probably armed. And I sure as hell am not. How about seeing what he <em>willingly</em> says, and only if that doesn't work, your method of interrogation."</strong> She harrumphed and muttered, <strong>"But yes, we can take his beer. Hair of the dog never hurt anyone."</strong><br><br>She pops open the hotel door. She doesn't feel a need to say where she thought she was at before waking up here. It's none of the very torture-inclined Hans' business. She jerks her head at the stranger who looks suspiciously like Steve Buscemi, gesturing him inside, and she says, <strong>"Beer first. And you have to find your own keys."</strong>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>26-05-2013, 17:15:06</strong>
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				<strong>Archibald</strong><br><br>Yazkov shrugs.<br><br>"Does it matter who they are?&nbsp; Our side, your side, their side...ah, now let me drink to the health of the tenth Viscount, if that is not too forward of me."&nbsp; He refills his glass, drains it, pushes the bottle closer to Archibald.&nbsp; "I truly hope your friend is having a similar morning in some out of the way country like this one, shocked and alarmed as he reads of your untimely death while drinking vodka.&nbsp; But I do not know.&nbsp; Now, to elaborate..."<br><br>He turns to appreciate the charms of the barely-legal waitress as she putters about, only turning back after the girl disappears back into the cafe.<br><br>"Where was I?&nbsp; Oh, yes.&nbsp; Here is what I personally believe, old foe.&nbsp; When I was a handler, I saw that those in the field were easily led astray by what they were told by those above us.&nbsp; But I also saw that so much of what those above us said made no sense in light of what was in the field.&nbsp; There is a disconnect between the player and the pieces...which is no way to win a game of chess."<br><br>He takes a deep breath, catching Archibald's eye.<br><br>"What if the point of the game is not and never has been to win?&nbsp; Your poet Milton wrote most eloquently of his god having an ineffable plan.&nbsp; But there is little difference between an ineffable plan and an absent one."<br><br><br><strong>Ysabel and Alexi</strong><br><br>When Ysabel opens the door, Mister Pink gives her a grin that would do Tim Curry proud and immediately hands over the six-pack.&nbsp; It's something called Black Pharaoh Stout, and there's a reversed ankh on the label, with glass so dark brown it's nearly black.<br><br>"Here you go, then.&nbsp; It isn't cold, but that's how it is around here, you know?&nbsp; So you're both up and dressed.&nbsp; Cool.&nbsp; We have a meeting with Yazkov.&nbsp; Got to give you the official reception and everything."<br><br>He steps inside, nods at Alexi.<br><br>"So where do I start?&nbsp; Uhm.&nbsp; Welcome to The Edge, first of all.&nbsp; Second, god morning.&nbsp; Third, sorry about your passports and stuff.&nbsp; That's standard operating procedure, since whoever's jerking us around wants you to stay put.&nbsp; No, I don't know who did this to us.&nbsp; Yes, I want to take a power drill to their molars, too.&nbsp; Yazkov says we'll have to get in line."<br><br>(Alexi recognizes that name--Vasiliy Avrustovich Yazkov used to be one of the best handlers in the business, until he died in a hunting accident near his family dacha in the Urals about five, six years ago.&nbsp; They still tell stories about his great skill and subtlety in dealing with double and triple agents, some of which are exaggerations.)
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>AlexStone</strong> on <strong>26-05-2013, 22:47:12</strong>
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				Alexi held onto the heavy liquor bottle in his hand.&nbsp; This pink fellow seemed way, way too chipper for his tastes.&nbsp; Still, he was saying something useful, so Alexi listened for a bit, then arched his eyebrow. "The Edge?&nbsp; There is no hotel in Hamburg called this- in fact, it's not much of a hotel name.&nbsp; It sounds like a cheap London discotheque, which would account for the hangovers, at least." <br><br>He took a deep breath as his brain tried to catch up a bit with the idea of meeting with a very dead man.&nbsp; "Yazkov?&nbsp; Vasily Yazkov?&nbsp; That isn't possible, and you know it." He brought the bottle up, starting to close with the man in the very ugly coat.&nbsp; He turned to explain to Ysabel- "Vasily Yazkov was.. the manager of State Plant 177 in Belarus.&nbsp; He died in a hunting accident many years ago, this has been confirmed by many sources."&nbsp; 
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>27-05-2013, 00:56:31</strong>
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				<strong>Ysabel and Alexi</strong><br><br>The man in the pink jacket shrugs.&nbsp; (This close, you both notice that it isn't a tie he's wearing: it's a noose.&nbsp; Black silk, finely woven.&nbsp; Odd choice for a personal fashion statement.)<br><br>"Yeah, well, I hate to break it to you, Dorothy, but this ain't Hamburg.&nbsp; And if a man who has the tradecraft to back up his claim wants to call himself Yazkov, who am I to question?&nbsp; Hell, he could call himself Genghis Khan and nobody around here would so much as shrug.&nbsp; You get used to it after a while.&nbsp; Anyway, like I said, we got a meeting.&nbsp; Get yourselves collected and let's go grab us a jitney up to Sunken."
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Blythe</strong> on <strong>27-05-2013, 02:54:31</strong>
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				Ysabel doesn't show any real reaction as the guy in the pink jacket talked. She briefly recognized the name Yakzov, but in no significant way. It sounded like any of the other names flung around by her former agents who worked in counter-espionage; if any had been assigned to handle whoever "Yakzov" was, Ysabel hadn't heard about it. She listened carefully to the guy as he talked, and she noted that "Hans" next to her was pretty surprised by that name. She got the point; Yakzov was purportedly dead. But considering that she'd been moved from her hotel room to wherever the hell this was, been stripped of her identification, and was in a room with a total stranger to whom the same thing had happened...well, the idea of a dead guy not really being dead didn't seem all that far-fetched. She'd see "Hans' " reaction later, she supposed, if and when they met this Yakzov guy.<br><br>She notes the noose around Mister Pink's neck, and she tries to get a feel for what kind of guy this is. Who would wear a noose willingly...while talking about people who were supposed to be dead? Ysabel collected what little she had with her in the hotel room, noting that her picture of her once-lover was still in her wallet...something that could keep her sane for a while at least...before giving a nod. She said, <strong>"Before we go...who are you, exactly? You have a name, or do you make a habit of being a mysterious knowledgeable stranger?"</strong>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>27-05-2013, 05:18:08</strong>
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				<strong>Ysabel and Alexi</strong><br><br>"Forgot me already?&nbsp; You <em>reeeeeeeeally</em> know how to wound a guy," the man answers Ysabel cheerfully, not sounding the least bit offended.&nbsp; "Just call me Fitz, as in Gerald."&nbsp; He tilts his head, grins.&nbsp; "As for being a very well informed individual...it's relative.&nbsp; I've been here a bit longer than you two, but not as long as Mister Yazkov.&nbsp; He gave me a break when I first got here, and told me to pay it forward.&nbsp; That's why I'm taking you to see him.&nbsp; Clear enough?"
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>AlexStone</strong> on <strong>27-05-2013, 14:25:01</strong>
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				Alexi didn't put the bottle down, but he did stop closing with Fitz.&nbsp; He crossed his arms over his chest, keeping the heavy glass container in his hand.&nbsp; He looked over at Ysabel, and shrugged slightly.&nbsp; "Okay, Gerald of the poor fashion choices, I suppose we can go with you to see someone who's lying about being a factory manager in Belarus.&nbsp; But I'll only go if she goes."&nbsp; He looked over at the woman in the room- they might as well stick together, if everything was as sideways as it seemed.&nbsp; 
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Blythe</strong> on <strong>28-05-2013, 10:10:30</strong>
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				Ysabel grins and says, <strong>“Oh, I'm going. Seems better than staying in a room I didn't pay for with no way to I.D. myself. Let's go meet Yakzov. After you, Fitz; lead the way. I'm all for a gentleman paying it forward.”</strong> Ysabel sees no reason not to be friendly at this point in time, and she'll follow Fitz if and when he leads herself and “Hans” out of the hotel. “Hans” seemed to be more than a touch on the paranoid side, at least to her...then again, she couldn't really blame him. <em>He woke up in a strange place just like you...and he's getting spooked. Hard to fault a man for that,</em> she thinks to herself.<br><br>Of course, Ysabel's own stubborn nature is getting the better of her. She needs to know where this is going and why this is happening, and her only lead now is Fitz leading them to Yakzov. Ysabel knows that this might become that one thing in her life that she becomes like a terrier over, that one thing she just can't and won't let go. Who would?
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ebb</strong> on <strong>28-05-2013, 20:04:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"To the tenth Viscount, my dear nephew Ernest whom I haven't broken bread with in three years. May he do more with the title than I ever did." Archie drained his glass. Now, after three, he was beginning to feel the effects. A long plateau of semi-sobriety awaited him, which seemed not such a bad way to spend one's first day among the deceased. Besides, a ration of gin helped one cope with the beastly climate. Archibald entertained the morbid thought that he was in fact dead and that this was some version of Hell never envisioned by the poets. Certainly it was no higher plane; he knew himself forever barred from that particular pearly staircase.<br><br>"Your Dostoevsky would disapprove, I think. God's unwillingness to share His plan with us is a failing on our part, not His. Your unwillingness to share your plan with me, however, is entirely your own responsibility. I am now a man without a home, without a country, without even a title though I think I shall continue to use it. My god, I've all of about twelve pounds sterling on me plus a handful of US dollars, and a line of credit at my hotel which is liable to be cut short if someone were to happen to read of my demise and conclude that I'm an imposter. Now I hardly think that you are responsible for my situation, but you clearly have a fair idea of what's going on. I feel I deserve some answers here, old chap." His tone was not heated; it would hardly have been proper. But there was an element of steel in in that had perhaps not been exercised for quite some time.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>30-05-2013, 05:13:18</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Archie</strong><br><br>"You leap ahead of me too quickly," Yazkov wags a finger at Archie, grinning.&nbsp; "And Dostoevsky, being a Tsarist and a mystic, would of course disapprove.&nbsp; Too much heaven on his mind, like too many of my countrymen."&nbsp; He filled his glass again.&nbsp; "It is not <em>my</em> plan to which I refer, old fellow...my plans are neither ineffable nor absent, and I do not need to pretend that a failing on your part prevents me from sharing it.&nbsp; Rather, I am waiting for the others.&nbsp; You can extend that much patience, I hope?&nbsp; I prefer to make the sales pitch once and answer all the questions at once."<br><br>He reaches over, taps the paper.<br><br>"This?&nbsp; Is a mistake.&nbsp; I intend that all of you should enjoy the opportunity that the ineffable, absent plan has provided, all because the left office does not understand what the right bureau has ordained.&nbsp; But first we must wait for our young friends.&nbsp; They should be here soon."<br><br><strong>Ysabel and Alexi</strong><br><br>"Just Fitz," Fitz says, holding the door for the others.&nbsp; "Lock up if you want.&nbsp; Or not.&nbsp; Saves on losing the safety deposit if someone breaks in."<br><br>He leads the way out through the parking lot, around a tiny pool that has seen better days and irregular cleaning, and out onto a crowded, cluttered street.&nbsp; "Here we are!&nbsp; Four Points Barrio.&nbsp; Not the best neighborhood, but it's less expensive than Burgerville and safer than Great Men.&nbsp; I'll get you guys a map later.&nbsp; We're heading to Sunken, which is where the tourists tend to hang out, except for the hedonists and perverts who flock to Flowers.&nbsp; With me so far?&nbsp; This is not&nbsp; a safe and secure neighborhood, but that's all to the good.&nbsp; Means you don't need to worry as much about defending yourselves vigorously."<br><br>He steps around a street kid who is handing out colorful fliers in Arabic, ducks around a pair of bickering vendors, and waves both of you on toward a jitney idling at the next corner.&nbsp; A sign in the window reads "Sunken" in large block letters, black marker on neon orange posterboard. <br><br>"Okay, our ride's here.&nbsp; Shake a leg, folks!"<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Blythe</strong> on <strong>30-05-2013, 09:32:11</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Ysabel scrounges around the hotel room before leaving and comes up with a pair of keys on the nearby bureau, and she figures that these might be the hotel room keys. <em>Must have been left here by Fitz...or someone else?</em>, she wonders to herself. She decides to lock up the room only after her recently awoken companion vacates it, and feeling more than a little baffled at doing so, puts the keys she never remembers receiving last night in her pocket, wondering if it's even “legal” for her to have them.<br><br>Upon leaving the hotel room, she gets a better look at the parking lot, noting that it's not so different from what she expects. She listens to Fitz's talk of the surrounding areas—apparently this is Four Points Barrio. It's a cluttered street, more urban than she expects for some reason, and it has a decidedly cheap air to it that reminds Ysabel very vaguely of the type of neighborhood she lived in when much younger. <br><br>To let Fitz know she gets what he's saying, Ysabel nods and says, <strong>“Got it.”</strong> She's not one for too much frivolous conversation, and she's more anxious by the minute as he describes the lay of the land. Tourists? Hedonists? She knows she's nowhere she recognizes...which means she's far from home. The thought is infuriating. At the announcement the neighborhood isn't secure, she tenses up...although she secretly thinks that a brand new area that's not secure is probably going to drive her foreign friend “Hans” crazier than squirrel shit after an acorn harvest.<br><br>Ysabel, out of curiosity, attempts to take a flyer from the Arabic kid if it's free of charge, wondering if she can get a clue about this place from stuff like that. She blinks in surprise when seeing the jitney; they aren't common at all back in the States, so she knows that she probably isn't in the good old US of A any longer. But she gets on with some trepidation, and she mutters, <strong>“This Yakzov better have answers.”</strong>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>AlexStone</strong> on <strong>30-05-2013, 18:00:39</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				As he stepped out of the hotel room, it was pretty obvious to Alexi they weren't in Hamburg, indeed- or in London.&nbsp; It was far to warm for those places.&nbsp; It might be somewhere in North Africa, or the Mediterranean- or even the Caribbean or southern United States.&nbsp; The kid with the Arabic fliers does kinds of seal the deal against the Western Hemisphere option, though.&nbsp; The whole atmosphere of the street lends a certain amount of credence to the whole North Africa proposition.&nbsp; He paid attention to Fitz's narration as they walked, and he kept his head on a swivel as he looked around to try and find the usual- escape routes, how to get back to the hotel they've left, and keeping an eye out for any attractive hedonist female types that have been infused with the proper Western Decadence.<br><br>Speaking of attractive females, though it remained to see if she was the sort Alexi ended up with, this morning not withstanding, Alexi heard Ysabel's mutterings.&nbsp; "If it is him, he will have answers.&nbsp; If not, then we will have to make a new plan."&nbsp; He gave a slight wave of his hand, offering Ysabel the opportunity to go first.&nbsp; Alexi had learned to act like a gentleman at some point in his life.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ebb</strong> on <strong>04-06-2013, 02:28:06</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The problem with talking to spies, Archie had found, was the depressing lack of nouns. Pronouns were thick on the ground, and oblique references filled the air like pollen on a spring day. But nouns? Concrete, definitive, dare one say "proper" nouns? They were like snipes, always just around the next corner or hiding under yonder bush. "The others". "The left hand". And always, ever, eternally, "They". Archie had had just about enough of "They" to fill one lifetime.<br><br>Which was fitting, since now he apparently had a whole second lifetime to fill.<br><br>Resigned to at best a stalemate in any verbal fencing match with the wily Russian, the Viscount took advantage of the only solace provided and filled his glass for the... potentially fourth time. It was becoming more difficult, and less interesting, to keep count. "Very well," he conceded. "I shall wait for our young friends. You know, I don't think I have any young friends. Few friends at all, to be sure, and most of them dottering wrecks." Somewhat sloppily he tore the obituary column from the newspaper, folding it and placing it carefully in a wallet in the company of very little cash. It might be worth a drink or two on a bar bet, some day.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>06-06-2013, 05:30:29</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Ysabel and Alexi</strong><br><br>"He'll have answers.&nbsp; You might have the right questions."&nbsp; And with that, Fitz drops a five dollar bill into the jar by the driver and engages in a high-speed back-and-forth conversation with the man, the content of which had to do a lot with something sunken and Caesar.&nbsp; Then he waves the pair to a couple of seats.<br><br>"Should be only about twenty minutes.&nbsp; Traffic's not bad for this time of the week, and he's actually going to the Plaza, so we'll be practically on the doorstep."<br><br>Then he shuts up for most of the drive, save to point out various landmarks of interest.<br><br>It actually takes twenty-seven minutes, if anyone checks their watch, before the jitney drops the trio off in front of a modest little hotel in a clean and well-kept neighborhood, where a pair of older men are sitting at a table and enjoying a good drink.&nbsp; One of them is a dignified fellow who seems to be a sheet and a half to the wind already. The other...<br><br>Alexi recognizes him at once: he's a few years older, balder, and heavier around the gut, but that's most certainly Yazkov.<br><br>"Here we are," Fitz says, raising a hand to wave.&nbsp; "Let's go meet and greet, shall we?"<br><br><strong>Archie</strong><br><br>"There I must agree.&nbsp; We have few friends, we old professionals.&nbsp; Our lifestyle does not lend itself to genuine trust."&nbsp; Yazkov sighs heavily.&nbsp; "How many of us marry?&nbsp; How many of us keep our spouses for long?&nbsp; Oh, it is to be expected, of course, that we keep them because a family man is an excellent cover, but how many of our loved ones remain at distance?"<br><br>He, too, drinks his fill.<br><br>"I tell you, old foe, the pigs in the Kremlin betrayed the Revolution long ago.&nbsp; Too many good Communist boys have died for them.&nbsp; Just as I suspect too many good American boys have been wasted on gambits.&nbsp; And too many good British lads, of course."<br><br>A jitney rolls to a stop at the curb and three people get off.&nbsp; One of them draws Archie's eye--he looks quite a bit like an actor whose name the Viscount can't place, and to top it off he's wearing a bright pink blazer.&nbsp; The other two seem normal enough, though.<br><br>"And here they are," Yazkov says gloomily.&nbsp; "I will order another bottle..."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Blythe</strong> on <strong>06-06-2013, 11:11:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Twenty-seven minutes of pure unadultered torment. She sits in a general state of discomfort, the awkwardness that comes from being around men she does not know, in a place she does not know...for a reason she does not know. Ysabel admired that her mysterious overnight companion was already referring to them as a "we" and being courteous. She knows he's likely having the same feeling of waking up in something like a nightmare-wonderland, minus the wonder. She listens to the rapidfire banter, noting "sunken" and "Caesar" for later reference. Combined with the flyer she'd seen, Ysabel knows there's nearly as much cultural diversity in this place, if not more, than the USA.<br><br>When they arrive and see Yakzov for the first time, Ysabel is woefully unimpressed. All she can think is <em>This is is a total sausage-fest...as usual. Even when I'm not working at my job, I'm still trapped around men all the time.</em> She hears the plump bald man offer to order another bottle, and Ysabel says, politely, <strong>"If it's all the same, something to eat would be preferred. Ysabel Hargraves, by the way. And you two gentlemen are...?"</strong> She inclines her head politely to Archibald by way of introduction, her cool eyes taking in the details of these new surroundings.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ebb</strong> on <strong>07-06-2013, 06:47:51</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Archibald carefully slid his chair back and rose to his feet. There was a lady present, or at least that was the supposition until the woman in question proved differently. If there was one thing that Archie had mastered over twenty years of unwise drinking, it was maintaining the appearance of gentility when other men might betray their inebriated state. Or at least he had convinced himself this was true, and a little self-delusion went a very long way. He took Ysabel's hand in his and lightly brushed his lips across the back of her fingers before releasing it.<br><br>"Archibald Warburton, humbly at your service. I assure you, death has not robbed me of an ounce of appreciation for such beauty." He turned to the gentleman newcomer. "And at your service as well, of course. I'm given to understand that the two of you might be in more or less the same rotten boat as I, and I further understand that my irritating friend here may be able to provide us with a couple of oars. And food sounds like a capital idea." He turned toward Yakzov. "Eggs Benedict, perhaps?"<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>AlexStone</strong> on <strong>07-06-2013, 19:14:26</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				As they came into the place, Alexi glanced around- the exits, the windows, and for the guys who were at other tables, watching this particular meeting.&nbsp; There had to be those around, at least.&nbsp; It wouldn't make sense for Yazkov to hold a meeting with strangers without backup, and if Yazkov was important enough to get together the three of them, whoever they are, Alexi assumed that he had enemies of some sort.&nbsp; The survey complete, as they made their way to the table, Alexi grabbed Ysabel's eblow to slow her progress, then whispered, "The one on the right is Yazkov," then backed off so that they wouldn't look like the were conspiring.<br><br>His head was still aching from his presumed debauchery as he sat down.&nbsp; "No, no alcohol for now- I think coffee will suit me."&nbsp; He pulled out a chair, looking over at the genteel fellow. "I don't know enough about your boat to know if we're on the same one or not."<br><br><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header"> OOC Rules stuff </div><div class="spoiler_body">Should I roll Alexi's KGB Field Agent to find people spying on them, or Yazkov's security team- or the lack thereof of any of these?<br></div></div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>08-06-2013, 16:47:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Yazkov favors Ysabel with a smile.<br><br>"Actually, that is an excellent suggestion!"&nbsp; He turns, gestures to the thin young African man who is serving tables.&nbsp; "A menu for our new guests, please, Simon?"<br><br>The man nods and disappears into the cafe for a moment, leaving the new arrivals enough time to join their elders at the table.<br><br>"Pleased to meet you, Archie," Fitz grins, pulling a chair out from the table, spinning it around, and straddling the seat in an insolent schoolboy fashion.&nbsp; "I'm Fitz, as in Gerald."<br><br>"And I see Alexi Sergiovich remembers me," Yazkov smiles warmly at his countryman.&nbsp; "Tell me, young man.&nbsp; Do they still tell stories about me in the Aquarium?&nbsp; No matter.&nbsp; This is a business meeting.&nbsp; We will have time to trade pleasantries later, and I have promised Mister Warburton that I shall get to the point without further ado."<br><br>He nods to Archibald.<br><br>"Simply put, we are all orphans.&nbsp; I am a spymaster without a network of agents.&nbsp; The Lord Viscount is a minister without portfolio.&nbsp; You two are recently separated from your accustomed service, and then there's Fitz, who is...how did you put it?"<br><br>"A pawn in search of a third color of Queen," Fitz laughs.<br><br>"Yes. Chess analogies.&nbsp; How utterly Soviet of you."&nbsp; Yazkov shakes his head in mock gravity.&nbsp; "My proposal is simple.&nbsp; I want to help you get back into the game...but for yourselves."<br><br><br><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body">Alexi--the table is outdoors.&nbsp; Go ahead and roll!</div></div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Blythe</strong> on <strong>11-06-2013, 08:37:34</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Ysabel reacts somewhat irritably when her arm is grabbed. She hisses softly to Alexi, <strong>“Mind not touching me unless you're saving my life? Presumably we've touched enough already.”</strong> She sees no reason to inform him that she thinks nothing happened the night before. She had nothing to gain by being honest at the moment, and while she is grateful he points out the one he recognizes as Yazkov, she feels he could presumably select a more...suitable manner to tell her. As in....not in front of everyone. As it stands, the grabbing and whispering alone will look bad, at least in her mind.<br><br>But she dislikes being grabbed, and the corners of her mouth twitch in displeasure. The man obviously means well, but they couldn't get anywhere unless they got information. They had no real resources. They had no true contacts. If it is a more deadly trap, they would have already been killed, so she believes. As it stands, Ysabel has the strong impression of being stranded somewhere. <br><br>She is not one to normally be taken in my stray compliments, but Warburton has the decadent air of a man who'd lived well—and yet a man who is more honest than most. Although she does wonder if&nbsp; he's had a drink, as drinks were offered to herself and her companions. She hopes her first impression is not wrong. She gives no overt sign that his compliment or the kiss of her hand affects her, but her normally steely eyes soften in response to the flattery. But her face is stoic, as usual. She takes a place by Archibald, and if there is room, she signals Alexi to sit on her other side. But she does say, quietly, <strong>"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Warburton."</strong><br><br>After getting comfortable, Ysabel smiles and says, <strong>“Either I smell something to eat in the distance, or I smell a job offer, Mr. Yazkov. Am I right?”</strong>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ebb</strong> on <strong>11-06-2013, 17:58:51</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Archibald ordered crisp bacon, runny eggs and baked beans on toast, though it took some small amount of effort to convince the waiter of the last item, and he was not at all convinced that he would receive what he desired. On the positive side, he inwardly decided that he would henceforth ignore the low-caloric dietary suggestions that his home nurse had mandated for the trip, reasoning that her advice had not served to prevent his death, and was therefore worthless.<br><br>The comely young woman was nice enough to sit at his side, though her companion's stony demeanor hadn't yet cracked. The fourth member of their band, Mr. Fitz, seemed to actually be enjoying himself. That particular step would elude Archibald for the present time.<br><br>"I am interested, as you know, Yazkov. Though I'll like a bit of time later to make some calls and verify that I truly have no other options. I suspect you're several steps ahead of me there as well. So tell us more, unless we're awaiting more shades?" Come to think of it, some shade would be welcome. The morning sun was growing bright and hot, and the gin's regulating effect on his temperature was struggling to keep up. He refrained from pouring another glass, though, with the new company present. Though his gaze continually drifted back to the open bottle and his empty glass. Food would help.<br><br><br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>AlexStone</strong> on <strong>12-06-2013, 05:07:44</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Alexi leaned back a bit as Ysabel snapped at him, his hands coming up defensively.&nbsp; "Well, I suspect a lot less happened than you believe, but if you want to think the worst of me, then go ahead.&nbsp; That said, I'll make sure you're well and truly drowning before I reach for you again, to avoid confusion."&nbsp; He shrugged, heading to the table, keeping an eye on the people around them, to make sure none of them produced firearms, or duct tape, or, even worse, umbrellas.<br><br>He took what was the last chair, settling into it with a simple poker face, but kept most of his gaze on Yazkov, when he wasn't planning for someone to toss a grenade on the table. "For a time, they did, but, as you know, Beria may be dead, but he still stalks the halls of Lubyanka.&nbsp; Such talk fell off pretty quickly once you were dead."&nbsp; <br><br>After ordering his usual tea and toast- though this morning the toast might be a bit rough, he let his ear perk slightly at Yazkov's suggestion.&nbsp; "For ourselves?&nbsp; Just what do you mean, and how can we possibly be working just for ourselves, anyway?&nbsp; What we do is commit crimes, after all."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>12-06-2013, 05:21:10</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Fitz just smiles at the byplay, content to observe in silence for the moment.<br><br>Yazkov waits until the waiter returns and takes everyone's order before answering both Ysabel and Alexi.<br><br>"Yes, if you like.&nbsp; A job offer.&nbsp; Self-employment on an account not so very different than what you have done for others.&nbsp; It is what you know, yes?&nbsp; And where your skills lie."&nbsp; He grins at Alexi.&nbsp; "Ah, how well I remember! Beria and Iron Felix and the shades of Ivan Grozny and Aleksandr Nevsii...such tales, eh?&nbsp; We are criminals, as you say.&nbsp; We have always been criminals.&nbsp; It is our nature.&nbsp; That we serve in the name of the law does not change that."<br><br>Fitz turns to Archibald.<br><br>"Did he ask you about the Milton bit?&nbsp; Ineffable plans and all that?"&nbsp; The man grins, and there's something a bit feral in the expression.&nbsp; "Mister Yazkov and I came to an agreement on the matter over a nice game of chess."<br><br>"Chess," Yazkov snorts, "and the fair young women serving us the jumped beers."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Blythe</strong> on <strong>12-06-2013, 11:07:46</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Ysabel does not respond to Alexi, her expression blank. She has no particular reason to snap back at him after saying what needed to be said. She doesn't dislike him. She just does not remotely understand his paranoia. She is, in many ways, opposite to him—Ysabel is a calculated risk taker, someone who enjoys pushing boundaries and skirting the barest edge of danger, while Alexi, to her knowledge, anticipates and tries to prep for all the danger before it very well may exist. She wasn't able to do her job living in such paranoia—it was essentially fear, and she cannot be who she wants to be in life by being afraid.<br><br>She quietly orders something filling with a lot of carbs—she does feel pretty hungry, and she's unsure exactly when the opportunity to eat again will present itself. She murmurs her order of, <strong>“Biscuits, gravy, and a heap of hashbrowns. Don't stint on pepper and salt, either. I'll take orange juice for a drink.</strong><br><br>She listens to the interplay between Alexi and Yazkov, and the mention of the word 'criminals' strikes a sensitive nerve. Once upon a time, she would catch criminals...and Soviet sympathizers, if need be...not have breakfast with them. Mentions of Felix, Grozny, Nevsii...all just different tints of Russian Red. Her inner patriot is frothing at the mouth. She says to Yazkov, grudgingly,<strong> “You have my attention. But I'm not even thinking of signing on to whatever this is until I know more about it.”</strong> She wonders if there is a choice at all--she has the distinct feeling that none of them would be here if they had other options--a thought triggered by Archibald's previous comment about checking up on things and making calls.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ebb</strong> on <strong>17-06-2013, 05:15:08</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Criminals?" Archibald raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps you have me confused for someone else. Surely we can draw a distinction between a bit of service in the name of one's country and outright crime. Oh, wait -- you meant only yourself and this young couple. Well, strange bedfellows and all of that. I trust no one here is an axe-murderer? At least not openly?"<br><br>He turned back to Yazkov. "You may as well be out with it. This damn sun is getting too bright already." The waiter brought their dishes with remarkable alacrity, and Archie noted that his own order had survived the trip to the kitchen and back unscathed. The eggs were runny yet nearly tasteless. Exactly as he preferred them, as it turned out.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>AlexStone</strong> on <strong>17-06-2013, 15:36:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Alexi did have to chuckle a bit at Archibald's response. "What you call service to country, I'm fairly sure the GRU calls conter-revolutionary espionage.&nbsp; Perhaps even wrecking, if they can make that stick.&nbsp; And I know that the German Federal Police believed what I was doing was against the German Basic Law, even if Moscow didn't agree with that interpretation."&nbsp; He reached for his tea, taking a little sip as he looked around.&nbsp; He still expected the hit squad at any moment, but at least they were letting him enjoy the morning a bit.<br><br>"But, yes, what is it you want to offer us?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>19-06-2013, 05:16:53</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Fitz grins at Archibald's objections to the morning growing old and the sun growing warmer.<br><br>Yazkov rolls his eyes melodramatically and waves one hand in a dismissive gesture.<br><br>"Age is supposed to make one patient!&nbsp; Very well, I shall indulge you.&nbsp; I am a spymaster without a network, and you are all more or less agents at large.&nbsp; What I propose is simple.&nbsp; Let us work together to earn our keep, perform a few worthy deeds, and find a way to thumb our noses at the fools who cast us out for our various sins."&nbsp; He taps his glass with one fingertip.&nbsp; "I asked about ineffable plans for the simple reason that all the the planning I have ever heard from my own shadowy masters as beet utterly effed up, as the Americans are wont to say.&nbsp; Is that simple enough for you?"<br><br>He takes a sip.<br><br>"I have a few contacts on the island that I've managed to cultivate even after reports of my untimely demise were circulated.&nbsp; That, and long experience.&nbsp; That is what I offer to provide as my part in this."&nbsp; He gestures to Fitz.&nbsp; "And speaking of ineffable plans..."<br><br>"You're the effiest," Mister Pink laughs.&nbsp; "Me, I'm a professional distraction.&nbsp; I'm good at making the sort of noise that distracts security.&nbsp; Not too shabby at breaking things that need to stay broken, but look like they're in good repair.&nbsp; Get me?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Blythe</strong> on <strong>20-06-2013, 11:22:28</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Ysabel contemplates this over breakfast, playing with a fork at the table as she keeps her face neutral, and eventually eating the food brought to the table. A spy network is a spy network, after all. It's not like she's at home anymore and can afford to be choosy. She knows that she has no resources and no contacts available. It's not like she can be particularly choosy. And...she admits to herself that her profession isn't the most moral anyway.<br><br>She shrugs and says, <strong>"I'm in. I'm all for worthy deed and earning my keep and suchnot. "</strong> She says nothing about sins. She finishes up her breakfast and waits to hear the reactions of Archibald and Alexi. She wonders if there will be a bit of time to get to know the people at the table with her--she knows the way she and Alexi woke up is already straining how they're talking. She vaguely wants a do-over, and Archibald seems charming enough to try to get to know.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ebb</strong> on <strong>20-06-2013, 19:01:11</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				There was little point in considering further, except perhaps in a vain attempt to extract leverage that would fool no one seated at the table. Archibald had no other choice; that much was painfully clear. He doubted there was much of a market for freelance ex-aristocrats or crossword puzzle constructors here on Al Amarja.<br><br>"You may count me as a most enthusiastic participant, Yazkov. I wholeheartedly endorse this mad plan, and look forward to spending my silver retirement years in your most capable service." His tone was flat, yet not entirely unamused. "If you please, where shall we begin?"<br><br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>AlexStone</strong> on <strong>21-06-2013, 17:21:38</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Seeing as how I would do what you have in mind anyway in my present situation, I feel inclined to sign on with you, Comrade.&nbsp; But, that said, I think I need a down payment."&nbsp; Alexi paused to sip his tea, then wrote down a few numbers on a napkin and passed it to his countryman.&nbsp; <br><br>"Those are my sizes.&nbsp; I think, as a gesture of goodwill, you can provide me with a pair of Levis Blue Jeans in that size, yes?&nbsp; If I stay, take it out of my pay.&nbsp; If not, we'll call it a gift from a friend.&nbsp; I'll still work for a couple of days until you can get it."&nbsp; He chuckled, slightly, then settled into his chair to hear the plan from there.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>25-06-2013, 05:10:06</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Done and done,"&nbsp; Yazkov smiles pleasantly.&nbsp; "First, let us attend to the fundamental logistics.&nbsp; You, my young friends, have rooms at a little place in Four Points already, courtesy of a few people I know, but that will hardly do for you," he gestures to Archibald.<br><br>"I can help Archie find a place," Fitz volunteers.&nbsp; "Or he can move to Four Points with them.&nbsp; It'd be better to have us all in the same general area for support."<br><br>"Mmmm."&nbsp; The portly older Russian rubs his chin.&nbsp; "I would think that having at least two barios covered would be helpful.&nbsp; Multiple bases.&nbsp; Just in case those pesky agents from the Democratic Bureau of Investigation find one."<br><br>Fitz mulls this over, then looks to Archibald to see how he might respond to this...<br><br>"In the meantime," Yazkov announces with good cheer, "breakfast and drinks are on me.&nbsp; It is the least I can do!&nbsp; And afterwards Fitz can help you two get back to your hotel."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ebb</strong> on <strong>25-06-2013, 05:18:19</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Well, if I'm to be offered a choice," Archibald ventured, "then I would prefer to remain close to my new allies here. It's certainly possible that your copy of my dossier is a bit outdated, but I'm hardly the sort to be 'covering a barrio' or anything of the sort. My guess is that there's no Four Seasons in Four Points, but I'm willing to rough it. I'm foreseeing a future with little in the way of dry cleaning or poolside service in my future."<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Blythe</strong> on <strong>26-06-2013, 07:43:24</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Ysabel contemplates whether or not it would be better for Archibald to remain with her and Alexi, and she figures the older male has little experience with the rough and tumble subterfuge that she or Alexi both seem to have. The idea of putting him somewhere isolated comes off as very risky for the fellow, and Ysabel likes him enough to say, <strong>"I'd prefer myself, Alexi, and Archibald here to stick together as a group. Separating us all before we've even gotten to know each other sounds like a bad idea. Perhaps a brief period where were are all in one bario before separating out would be best. I can't envision Alexi and I working effectively with Archibald if we don't at least have easy access to him for a little while."</strong>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>AlexStone</strong> on <strong>26-06-2013, 15:44:11</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Alexi nodded.&nbsp; While he wasn't too sure about his new friends just yet, they were more likely to back him up at this point than any of the teeming strangers in the city- he didn't even know if he shared a common language with them, at this point.&nbsp; "I must agree with my new friends- perhaps, even, we should get adjoining or adjacent rooms in a hotel, assuming there isn't a safehouse or a large enough flat for us to take.&nbsp; We'll have to establish those sorts of things- safehouses and separate flats- but, I suspect money isn't something we&nbsp; can just wire back to Moscow for anymore, is it?"&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>28-06-2013, 06:34:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Yazkov looks from face to face, taking the measure of each before finally, reluctantly nodding.<br><br>"Very well.&nbsp; I suppose it would be easy enough to arrange another room or two...assuming, that is, that you two do not mind continuing to share?&nbsp; Or perhaps you would prefer to work out the arrangement yourselves?"<br><br>Fitz rubs the back of his neck and grins in a way that practically telegraphs his opinion of the situation.<br><br>"Fair enough," he says, a bit too cheerfully.&nbsp; "Gimme a couple hours to get my stuff and I'll be ready to move in.&nbsp; I'm not picky about room-mates, but a top floor room would be a good idea."<br><br>"You know my answer to that," Yazkov frowns, then turns to Alexi.&nbsp; "You are quite correct.&nbsp; In point of fact, since I am quite deceased in the eyes of the Motherland and Father Agency, it would be most unwise to wire back for more.&nbsp; Fitz will take you back to your room, and Archibald and I will join you later.&nbsp; He will also need to pack, and I have some assurances of good will that you will no doubt appreciate."&nbsp; His smile creeps back.&nbsp; "It will be good to work again.&nbsp; Better to work for a good cause."<br><br>+++<br><br>Some hours later, Archibald and his luggage arrive in the crowded little parking lot (if that's what it really is) outside the same hotel where Alexi and Ysabel woke up.&nbsp; The sign out on the street does little to build his confidence in the place: Hotel Coral Essex.&nbsp; And judging by the state of the neon lighting that traces the letters, the sign is probably somewhat misleading at night.<br><br>Up the block, a man in body armor conducts a six-pack of chacma baboons on what looks to be a mostly orderly patrol of the neighborhood.<br><br>Beside the hotel, a gaily dressed but scruffy young woman dances in place beside a boom box playing the music of a recent pop star--Katie Summer or some such.&nbsp; She gives Archibald a vacant grin as he passes.&nbsp; "Heard the good tunes?"<br><br>Alexi and Ysabel meet Archibald out in the courtyard.&nbsp; Fitz is in the office with Yazkov, wrangling over the room assignments from the desk manager, who is an impossibly ancient North African woman who seems to have decided against all available evidence that the look of a London chavvie suits her perfectly.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>AlexStone</strong> on <strong>10-07-2013, 22:16:44</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Alexi looked over at Archibald, as he came into the courtyard. "Welcome to... this place.&nbsp; Whereever it is, really."&nbsp; He gave a little shrug.&nbsp; "I don't think we quite have a room for you squared away just yet, but hopefully that gets sorted soon."&nbsp; He looked around the place, trying to get the lay of the land.&nbsp; "If we're going to make this a safe house for us, though, I think we'll have to do a little upgrading to the security.&nbsp; At the very least, we need to have an idea of what's around."<br><br>With a shrug, he reached into his pocket.&nbsp; Too bad about guns- a good pistol would make him feel a lot safer.&nbsp; They said no one really had guns here, but who believed that?&nbsp; And even if they didn't so much the better if he had one.&nbsp; Still, there was something almost as useful he could get. "I think we need a camera.&nbsp; We can get the darkroom stuff later, but pictures of who comes in and out will help.&nbsp; Anyone feel like a shopping trip?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ebb</strong> on <strong>10-07-2013, 22:41:02</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The pile of Archibald's luggage stood out starkly in the courtyard -- two steamer trunks and a matched set of three suitcases. He'd been lucky to extract all of them from the hotel; it turned out a bribe to the bellboy was cheaper than paying off the balance of his hotel bill with credit cards that no longer operated. Well, if it came down to it he could always start selling his clothes, assuming that he could find someone with a similar taste in tailored suits and pastel shirts. Right now he was more concerned about all of his worldly possessions being stealthily repossessed by the various ne'er-do-wells who seemed to be circling the rundown hotel, perhaps sensing an easy mark.<br><br>"Now that sounds like an excellent idea, my lad. I'm afraid I'm a bit short on operating capital, as it were, but a camera seems a very wise precaution. I do agree that injecting a slight element of 'safe' into this 'safe house' is well warranted. Can you help me stow these things in your own room for now, and then perhaps we can tour the neighborhood?" He lowered his voice, addressing only Alexi. "I imagine I'll be rooming with Mr. Fitz. I daresay you've gotten the better end of that particular deal."<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Blythe</strong> on <strong>11-07-2013, 02:29:06</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Ysabel nearly sighs with exasperation at being back at the same hotel she woke up at. She takes a look at the sign, and the first thing she notes is that the E and the first s in Essex flicker....and she knows how sleazy the place would seem at night. No wonder Alexi probably had a misconception about things between them when they'd woken up. Now that she'd seen this place properly from the outside, she could hardly blame the guy.<br><br>She hears Alexi and Archibald talking, and she tosses in her two cents, saying "On limited funds, a camera sounds like a damn good idea." She crosses her arms and takes in her surroundings. She's quite tempted to speak to one of the locals, get a bit of information. She mentions to both men, "After the luggage is stored, I'd like to look around. Maybe talk to some locals. I dislike getting all of my information from Yazkov and Fitz, who I frankly don't know."<br><br>She crossed her arms, taking note of the man in body armor with his six-goon patrol and the woman swaying to some pop music near the hotel. She decides the rather ditzy looking girl who addressed Archibald would be someone easy to talk to, someone not prone to suspicion right out, judging from the woman's rather vacant happy expression.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>14-07-2013, 22:25:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Voices from the manager's office seem a bit raised, but after a few more minutes Fitz steps back out into the bright, warm sun with an annoyed expression and wanders over to join the pow-wow.<br><br>"That could've gone better.&nbsp; You guys want the good news first or the bad news?"<br><br>He jerks a thumb back at the office.<br><br>"Good news is, we now own a hotel.&nbsp; Bad news is, I think we're gonna have to man the front desk.&nbsp; Once we clean up the blood, that is.&nbsp; Hell of a day."<br><br>+++<br><br>The young woman smiles blissfully in Ysabel's direction.&nbsp; She's probably stoned out of her little hippie brain, given the way she sort of focuses on the former Fed.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Blythe</strong> on <strong>15-07-2013, 09:06:49</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The former Fed listens to Fitz and the brief words about the front desk, and she decides to weigh in on that topic a bit later. Ysabel steps towards the young woman with the dopey stoned expression, a bit away from the men, and thinking quickly, decides to start off with easy conversation, to lead into some decent information about the area. Ysabel grins and says, <strong>"Nice tune you're humming. Catchy. And...whatever has got your mood so great, I could use some of that myself." </strong>Not a terrible conversation opener, but not her best, either. She hoped to make either a decent contact or learn at least one new thing about the area. And it did let her step away from the guys for a while, too, which was...nice.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>AlexStone</strong> on <strong>16-07-2013, 17:08:16</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Alexi grabbed up a couple of Archibald's cases- the lucky bastard actually seemed to have more than the clothes on his back.&nbsp; He shrugged as his suggestion, though, that he got the better of the deal. "I'm not sure what happened, or how long I'll be staying in that room.&nbsp; Something tells me that, no matter how attractive our friend, she won't be giving me much more than the time of the day for some time to come."&nbsp; He was about to heft a bag and begin carrying it when Fitz came over.<br><br>"So, well, at least we won't have to pay for the rooms- though, I have to ask, won't someone notice a murder?&nbsp; It strikes me that, eventually, someone will want to sort through who just owns this place.&nbsp; It will put rather much the limit on the time we have here."&nbsp; He shrugged. "Still, I suppose there's an agency that will find someone for us to watch the desk until then.&nbsp; And was there any money in the till?&nbsp; &nbsp;We need a camera."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ebb</strong> on <strong>16-07-2013, 22:32:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Between the two of them, short work was made of carrying and stowing Archibald's baggage. Unpacking would have to wait; the closet was inadequate in any event, and so far it didn't seem that having a wrinkled shirt was going to be much of a social disadvantage around here. Not when compared with, for example, killing a hotel clerk.<br><br>"He wouldn't have actually killed someone, would he have?" Archie asked Alexi, pointing a thumb back in the general direction of the front desk. "I mean, blood could be just a fistfight or somesuch, right? He seemed rather casual about the whole thing."<br><br>"I suspect you're right about the proclivities of your roommate. Don't take it personally, though. These days it's entirely likely that she's drawing her pay from the other team, as they say."<br><br>Archie rifled through his luggage to retrieve the small amount of cash he'd stored for emergency purposes. It wasn't much, even assuming that pounds sterling were accepted as currency anywhere near here. He peeled off half of the bills and handed them to Alexi. "I don't know how you're set for funds, but this should at least buy a few meals until Yazkov finds us a paying client. Though I suspect he has something in mind already."<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>AlexStone</strong> on <strong>20-07-2013, 22:10:26</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Alexi took the bills, examining them, seeing the portrait of the British Monarch on them. "I'm sure that these will spend somewhere."&nbsp; He stared at Elizabeth for a bit, remembering a lesson or two from his Komsomol days about the evils of reactionary hereditary monarchies, and their connection to the Feudal stage of development in human history, and how, one day, her revolution would come.&nbsp; Somehow, given her visage on the money, it seemed further away a decade and a half later than it had been in that classroom in Leningrad. <br><br>He folded the bills and pocketed them.&nbsp; "As far as I can tell, this island is either in a very degraded, decadent stage of capitalism, or a very advanced stage of socialism.&nbsp; In either case, killing someone would be a legitimate means of gaining control of their enterprise."&nbsp; He shrugged a bit.&nbsp; "If we own the place, why are we carrying the bags?&nbsp; Surely there is some lackey to do that."&nbsp; Alexi motioned over to the exit. <br><br>"Tell me, Archibald, are you a Leica or Nikon man?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>20-07-2013, 23:24:46</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Fitz does nothing to interfere with the other two, but tucks his hands in his pockets and follows along with the other two, casting a quick look back at the office.<br><br>"They're on the almighty US dollar here, but I'm sure someone at Swaps will be more than happy to change pounds to bucks.&nbsp; Still, that's not a bad way to keep someone from knicking your bankroll!&nbsp; I mean, unless they steal your passport and can fake the accent."<br><br>He laughs when Alexi mentions the lack of staff.<br><br>"This isn't that sort of fine establishment!&nbsp; Guests pack their own stuff in and out, which cuts down on the amount of casual observation they're under.&nbsp; Which is what Yazkov had in mind when he dumped you two lovebirds here."<br><br>He suddenly halts and turns, facing in Ysabel's general direction.<br><br>"Hey, do you guys hear something?&nbsp; Like a long, low down-note from Zeus's cello..."<br><br><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body">No, you don't.&nbsp; I'm setting up our replacement's unorthodox entry!</div></div><br>That is all the warning you get as the world seems to jump sideways about six feet and shimmy for a moment.&nbsp; When it stops and your stomachs stop trying to crawl out through your spines, the world has changed a little.<br><br>Not very much. Not so that you can really put a finger on it, like all the street signs suddenly being in thirty-six point Albertus font or the streets being paved with lime green cobblestones, but you know in your gut that something very strange just happened.<br><br>Fitz, for the record, looks like he's about to toss his cookies.<br><br>Out in the street, the young woman with the boom box and the hippie tunic and the stoned-out smile is talking to someone completely different.<br><br>+++<br><br>This is not Jennifer's day.<br><br>She knows, <em>knows</em>, that she was enjoying a nightcap with a similarly minded young intern back in Quantico after one of those overly-long holiday get-togethers where too much alcohol was served.&nbsp; She knows, absolutely, with every core of her being, that the last thing she should be doing right now is standing somewhere very warm and kind of humid, dressed like Lara Croft, and face to face with some blissed out hippie chick who is in mid-spiel about someone named Karla.<br><br>And some guy who looks damnably familiar, although she <em>knows</em> she's never seen him before, is giving her the evil eye from the motel parking lot just next to where she's standing.&nbsp; He looks a lot like a movie star whose name she can't quite place...and also like he's about to throw up all over his shoes.<br><br><br><br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Pretty in Pink</strong> on <strong>12-08-2013, 05:45:09</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jennifer was livid and confused, <strong>not</strong> a good combination for her.&nbsp; There she'd been, getting pleasantly buzzed with an absolutely gorgeous intern, looking more and more like she'd be getting joined in bed, and now all of a sudden here she was, God only knew where, with the niggling sensation that something had just gone screwy with the world, and yet the feeling that she knew exactly what this hippy was talking about, as if she'd been having this conversation all along.<br><br>She shook her head, flashing a smile at the woman.&nbsp; "Well, I'm sorry to hear that Kayla treated you that way.&nbsp; But if you'll excuse me, I do believe I see someone I know over there!" she said, and extricated herself from the situation, moving over toward the man giving her the stink eye, a purposeful step in her stride as she did.<br><br>She was going to figure out what the hell was going on, if it took her all damned day.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MadPanda</strong> on <strong>12-08-2013, 05:51:09</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Fitz blinks, shakes his head as if trying to clear it, then manages to plaster the most insincere smile any of you have ever seen onto his face as he beckons Jennifer to come closer.<br><br>"Too bad," he says.&nbsp; "I think she was hoping to convert you, if not also get laid.&nbsp; But let's get you settled, first."<br><br>He gestures to Alexi and Archibald.<br><br>"They're talking about adding a couple of security cameras, if you have anything to add while your head stops spinning.&nbsp; Then we should probably decide who is gonna sleep where, although our patron's, ah, redistribution of ownership probably means we all have single rooms on the top floor if we want 'em..."<br><br>Drawing himself up to his full height and mopping his brow, he adds:<br><br>"And then I, for one, am gonna get drunk off my ass!"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ebb</strong> on <strong>12-08-2013, 21:04:25</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Archibald considered Alex's question, and after an unseemly pause he replied. "I've an old Hasselblad at home that I swear by. That thing would take a bullet for me, I'm convinced. I doubt I'll ever see it again though. So whatever you like is fine."<br><br>Then the world jumped. Archie's stomach turned a somersault inside him, further mixing the liquor swilling around his system. He kept his dignity, though, with nothing more than a mild grimace. An expression which turned into an equally mild smile, laced somewhat with confusion, at the arrival of their newest companion.<br><br>"Ah... Did she just...." He looked to Alex for confirmation that, indeed, a woman had just spontaneously appeared in the parking lot. British manners got the better of him, and his smile grew to classic Archibald proportions. "Good morning, miss. I am Archie, at your service. Though what service I could provide to a woman capable of what you've just shown us is momentarily beyond me. Tell me, do you always travel in such a fashion?"<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Over the Edge: Sunburn</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>AlexStone</strong> on <strong>23-08-2013, 23:19:00</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Alexi was about to make some sort of suitable reply about cameras- most of the ones he'd been forced to use were East German, after all.&nbsp; It was only for a serious assignment that he could get issued a good Western camera.&nbsp; So, naturally, he had just purchased some with his slush fund.&nbsp; All of that, though, was on the far side of the moon for all intents and purposes.&nbsp; However, as he opened his mouth to get at it, response-wise, the world changed.&nbsp; Or, at least the girl did.<br><br>Oddly enough, people disappearing wasn't all that strange to Alexi- he was from the Soviet Union, after all.&nbsp; Sometimes, people disappeared from plain view.&nbsp; It was, however, a bit rarer for totally new people to arrive in their place.&nbsp; "Well, welcome to.. where ever the hell this is.&nbsp; I'm still getting used to it myself.&nbsp; That said, I think it's best you stay with us.&nbsp; As my friend said, we have plenty of rooms.&nbsp; And we're working on security.&nbsp; And we have employment."
			</dd>
		</dl>
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