Log:Guilt Complex, Scene 15

Guilt Complex 2013/08/14 	 Bee Regan Porter

15

Steel's Gym

''Inside the door is a spacious reception area. Directly opposite the entrance is a wide full length window of thick armor glass providing a gallery view into the workout area. To the east is a desk where gym staff check membership cards, schedule sessions and give out information. Next to the desk are vending machines selling snacks and chilled drinks and a jukebox. The west side of the reception area has a pair of old fashioned pinball machines and a holographic Hogan's Alley combat shooting game. Some framed Photographs, a Plaque, and the Gym Rules are hung on a wall beside the gallery window. ''

''The central area of the reception has a half dozen tables and chairs for members who are waiting for their booked session or discussing the outcome. A short flight of stairs leads down to the massive stainless steel door of the workout room as well as doors to the restrooms and changing rooms that are equipped with showers for freshening up after an exhausting practice. An arched opening provides access to the more conventional areas of the Gym, a weight training facility, the exercise room, and a heated swimming pool. ''

As ever, Regan is on vigil behind the counter, her chin cupped in one hand as she reads a screenful of text, occasionally flickering to view some images with a sweep of the fingers of her free hand.

Bee steps out of the Workout Room observation deck entrance (although she never walked into the room) and looks about. She is not her usual high-energy self.

Porter is back to sticking his head in and peeking, though now it's moved from the holographic room to the front door. He's lucky that he doesn't get trampled by energetic octogenarians on their way to hot yoga. He's not so lucky that the press of people still pushes him inside.

Regan looks up at the sound of people entering the room and straightens with a smile, absently shutting down whatever it was she was reading. "Good evening Porter, Bee, how are you both?"

Bee says, "Ten dead."

Regan's brows lift and she blinks momentarily. "You're referring the rail workers and the students?" She clarifies.

"Not bad, I guess." Porter shrugs. "Could be w-what?" He blinks and looks over at Bee. "Ten people? Where? What happened?"

Bee steps up and leans her elbows on the counter, pushes her goggles up off her eyes and buries her eyes in her palms. She nods at Regan's guess. "I found most of them: saw how they had been butchered before the police cleaned things up. They were awake and aware for most of the damage, but paralyzed in some way. I've convinced one of the forensic scientists to email me a copy of the results."

Newspapers: Colonial Bay Chronicle (CBC), National Questioner (NQ)

News Item: Article #1353

Title:"Train crew found"

Byline/Reporter: Barbara Wawa

Barbara stands in front of a temporary police command post outside of a derelict warehouse. "This evening Commander Ellen Lescarmontier of the CBPD announced that the crew of the derailed dockyard train have been found, along with a security guard from a FEMA facility in Tampa Bay Florida from which the criminals stole their disguises. All five have been murdered in what seems to be a ritualistics fashion. Also among the dead are five students from CBSU whose names are being withheld until the families can be notified. The police are not releasing any more details at this point but the investigation remains subject to federal supervision due to the continued threat of terrorist attack. CBN understands that the details of the crime are being suppressed since their ceremonial nature was particularly gruesome and disturbing. We will being you more details as they become available..."

Regan nods. "From what I'm told, the suffering of the individual increases the spiritual energy available to power whatever effect it is the ceremony is designed to produce. From what the police say, it sounds like they tried to synchronise the various ceremonies further increasing its power."

Porter looks between the two. "Wait. They were tortured and killed for some kind of magic thing? Why? What were the sickos trying to do?"

Bee says, "What? Each ceremony involved at least ten people. That brings the total up to over fifty."

Regan nods slowly. "That's not an insignificant number of people, and it's a minimum, ten is not really the sort of number these arcane types fixate on."

Bee says, "Twelve, six and three are common in spiritual settings, but I see nothing spiritual about these sickos"

"I bet it's a cult thing," Porter can still make guesses on things he knows nothing about, they're just not educated guesses, "and most of them are brainwashed."

Apparently, Vicki Maitland got back from her 'road trip' and was ordered by her superior that she should get some sleep. She spent a while arguing about that, but eventually her body caved in for her, and she relented. It's a good thing she never sold her house when she signed on with Starguard, so she had a place to crash that didn't involve keycard locks and whatnot. She slept for many hours and then... a good long shower standing under hot spray. Finally, feeling more human, and much less like a glazed donut, she aimed herself at the gym... and now she's landing out front. Looking quite a bit better and less stressed than she has in a while.

Regan's brow wrinkles. "Didn't covens used to be thirteen people or am I confusing that with something else." She nods. "They're pretty demented, but also purposeful. They're working toward a goal."

Porter frowns. More. "Great. So they're psychos on a mission. That's even worse. Whatever they're trying to do, it can't be good." He heads to the counter so they're not talking across the lobby.

"Broadly speaking there are two types of psychos. There are those whose connection with reality is so tenuous that they are simply incapable of formulating and executing detailed plans. Their actions are random. They are dangerous in their own way." Regan's head tilts. "Then there are those who are by and large rational, they can draw logical conclusions from data, they can envision consequences of their actions and plan accordingly. That said they are a long way from being sane, they either have an irresistible compulsion to behave in an anti-social fashion or they hold some belief as axiomatic, such as the existence of Satan, and are willing to do horrible things that follow logically from the axiom.

"Yeah..." Porter didn't go into so much detail, but he agrees. "Like I said, they're worse. So if we can figure out whatever their twisted thing is, maybe we can figure out what they're doing, and how to stop it?"

Regan shrugs. "The problem is that we don't know what is and isn't possible because we don't understand magic." Her lips compress. "I don't have a good understanding of what might or might not be feasible for them, and we don't have that great a handle on what they're trying to achieve, the end of the world? Summoning a big demon?"

Porter sighs and nods. "Yeah, I don't know squat about it. That's why I was asking you." His mood perks up some and a brow pops up. "Wait... you mean there's something you /don't/ know?" He can't pass that up.

Regan smiles. "There are one or two areas where my knowledge may be less than completely encyclopedic." she concedes. "But they're really so few, and so minor that we can pretty much ignore the possibility as remote."

"Right," Porter chuckles. "I'm sure it'll never come up again. I guess you could ask Doctor Magic. He seems to know everything about that kind of thing, or claims to."

Regan nods. "He seems very accomplished and quite self assured I have to concede. Though his expertise seems at this stage in his career somewhat theoretical, using his powers in field conditions tends to exhaust him reasonably quickly."

Porter presses his lips into a line. "He seems like a jerk half the time," he eventually gets out, "and the rest he seems Ok, I guess. Haven't made up my mind yet." This of the guy who offered Porter a job and is fronting the expenses for it.

Regan compresses her lips non-committally, I'm certain lots of people don't like me, so I'm not going to hold superficialities of personality against him. He's willing to put his life on the line to save others, that's what counts more than anything else."

"There's that," Porter admits with a shrug, "but I'm sure not everybody gets along, even if they're all saving the world an stuff."

Regan says, "Oh, absolutely. You don't have to get along with people to work alongside them saving the world, or even the city. To some extent it's why I'm so formal all the time. Because meta-humans are a very touchy breed."

Porter chuckles and nods, "Yeah, you mentioned that once or twice. Who knows? Maybe it's more me and not him. Just rubs me the wrong way sometimes."

Regan says, "Oh, he's definitely got a way about him. It isn't just you. It will be interesting to see how he and Chandrika get along if she ever wins free of her wranglings."

Porter quirks a brow. "Why is that? Or do I even want to know?" He's not sure he knows a Chandrika off-hand, though it is a pretty distinct name, and he thinks Regan might have mentioned it before.

Regan says, "Oh, you'll remember Chandrika if you ever meet her, annoy her even a little and she will rain fire and brimstone down on you in quantities not seen since biblical times."

"Ok..." Porter didn't expect that, and not from Regan. "Thanks for the heads up. Here I thought you were the one I had to worry about annoying..."

Regan's brows lift. "i am sugar and spice and all things nice. Chandrika will berate you in epic style before suing your ass into receivership."

Porter quirks a brow at that explanation. "Oh. Well, in that case, I don't ever want to meet her. She sounds deadly, and you know I'd just end up annoying her."