Log:Army of Darkness, Scene 2

Army of Darkness 2013/10/28 	 Bee Harlequin

2

Bee flies over the city in ever-widening circles, looking for a specific set of capes. It is a good thing she barely needs to sleep, because she has a *lot* of city to cover and only normal eyes to cover it with.

A text arrives from Harlequin giving Bee the address 222B Baker Street.

Revolutionary War Cemetery'''

''This is a very old cemetery, from the Revolutionary War period. At one time it was a place people visited, but now it has fallen into disrepair. Part of the wall is crumbling, and the old guard house (address 222B Baker Street) is missing part of one wall. Narrow trails lead among the graves to the west, south, and north. The graves are mostly marked with above-ground stones, and most antedate 1800 A.D.''

The mage is sitting cross-legged next to a worn gravestone with a chessboard set up on the grave itself with a game in progress on it. As you approach Harlequin moves a black knight and captures a white pawn.

Bee asks lightly as she approaches on nearly silent feet, "Who is your opponent? Or do I want to know?"

Harlequin murmurs gently, "The good Doctor Albert Livy is my opponent this evening. He enjoys a good game some nights, do you not, doctor?" One can almost sense a presence indicate the affirmative in the darkness but no one is physically present. Harlequin reaches over and castles the white king with the the knight's side rook. "Ah, playing defensive tonight, doctor?" The mage turns his attention to Bee. "Good evening."

Bee says, "Good evening, Harlequin. Doctor." She doesn't try to look the doctor's direction despite acknowledging him. "I have a riddle for you," she asks. "How do you tell whether a person talking about magic knows what they are talking about when I know nothing about the topic myself. I can spot a liar. How do I spot a deluded but sincere fool?"

Harlequin shrugs. "To be be blunt: you cannot. You do not have the background or skills to know the difference. It is made even more difficult if the person honestly believes whatever falsehood they are spouting is true. If one does not know the truth one cannot tell the truth save by purest accident."

Bee nods, "I lucked out in this case. When I questioned the person on their assertions, they admitted that everything they had learned about how magical rituals operate came from punching magicians."

You can almost see Harelquin smile behind his mask, "Silver Spider?"

Bee grins and her mask doesn't cover her mouth. "I see you've met."

Harlequin lifts one shoulder in a shrug. "She has threatened me in the past. We talked the other night when Regan went over the police reports with us about the magical murders."

Bee says, "yesterday? Or has Regan been giving multiple breifings?"

Harlequin nods slightly. "Yes, last night."

Bee says, "Lets compare notes then, since you got Regan's briefing second hand. What were you told about the ritual?"

Harlequin looks to the darkness. "Perhaps we can continue the game later, Doctor Livy? My apologies." A vague sense of sad understanding and acknowledgment then a fading of presence leaves the night a bit emptier feeling than before.

Harlequin waves a hand a glittering silver pentagram appears in the air. "A pentagram was formed. The men were sacrificed at the points of the stars, the young women at the center. The patients were in the five voids," he places marks at them."

Harlequin adds, "Some of this is not from the briefing but from physical examination of the ritual site. Regan, Silver Spider, and myself went there. I was able to glean much from the sight with aid from my mentor."

Bee says, "and Silver Spider said last night that she thought the patients were also together, near *one* of the vertices."

Harlequin nods. "At the sight of the...first....murde...." His voice trails off as he grows very still and very stiff.

Bee slowly reaches toward her force field belt controls, just in case

Harlequin begins to breathe deeply and quickly as if gulping in air. His hands clench into tight fist; the leather of his gloves creaking under the strain.

Bee checks, as best she can without equipment, if Harlequin is having a stroke.

His pulse is very fast as is his respiration. The skin on his neck is clammy to the touch and very damp with perspiration. He does not seem to be having a stroke but he does seem to be exhibiting signs of sever shock or perhaps a seizure disorder.

Bee dials 911, just in case.

The mage suddenly takes in a deep shuddering breath and lets it out slowly. As it releases mist comes from Harlequin's mouth as if he is suddenly somewhere much cooler.

Over the line comes a voice, "911 what is the nature of your emergency?" in a Southern drawl.

Bee starts to grab Harlequin to teleport him to the hospital, but pauses when she sees the mist. "I'm at the Revolutionary War Cemetery with a meta who seems to be having a seizure. Could you send an ambulance?" she says, suddenly unsure what a teleport would do to Harlequin in his condition.

Harlequin says in a raspy voice, "No ambulance. NO hospital. Hang up Bee." He sounds very tired. His hands creak as he unclenches them from the fists they are in.

Bee snaps the phone off, saying waspishly after she hangs up, "You had better not die on me then. Because if you do, I *will* figure out a way to track you down."

Harlequin hehs. "I probably will be in the special suites in Hell for recidivists." He He rolls his neck on his shoulders with audible cracking sounds. HE mutters in Russian. "No, I do not get pretty visions. I get undead armies marching through the city. Just once, ONCE! I want puppies playing with babies while unicorns dance in the background. ONCE!" This last is shouted at the sky.

Champions Mush - Tuesday, October 29, 2013, 2:16 PM

Harlequin hehs. "I probably will be in the special suites in Hell for recidivists." He rolls his neck on his shoulders with audible cracking sounds. HE mutters in Russian. "No, I do not get pretty visions. I get undead armies marching through the city. Just once, I want puppies playing with babies while unicorns dance in the background. ONCE!" This last is shouted at the sky.

Bee says lightly, her voice not matching the businesslike way she looks Harlequin over. "You live through this okay and I'll see what I can do. I know a few telepaths."

Harlequin waves a hand as he plucks a handkerchief from a sleeve to blot at his neck. "Feh, I would not a telepath to willing go into my mind. It is a den of depravity. I should know." He then sighs softly. "I will need to let HeroNet know about this vision. This is not one I can keep to myself. Too much of a chance innocents could get hurt."

Bee says, "Do you think it is related to the cultists I am investigating?"

Harlequin shakes his head. "No, but the evil and chaos DEOMON is causing only helps the Reaper. That is the deomon lord behind this army of darkness. He hates Lorelei. Princess Lorelei of Undermoon I suppose as she is called now."

Bee lifts up her flash goggles and rubs her eyes with thumb and forefinger. "I am not equipped, mentally, to deal with two magical threats at once. I wish these two issues had a sign to say, 'this is urgent' so I would know which would wait. This Reaper thing could happen tomorrow or a year from now."

Harlequin murmurs, "Well, given the ache in my bones, I would say within a few days. By the pricking of my thumbs and all that." He stands up and stretches with audible cracks. "Yes, very soon. Halloween is a good time of the mystical calendar to raise the dead after all. Not quite as Samhain or the Day of Dead but good enough."

Bee ughs, takes a *very* long breath, then says, "What can I do to help?"

Harlequin shrugs slightly, "I would stayed tuned for news or police reports of undead warriors: Native American warriors, British redcoats, French soldiers and American revolutionaries, Union and Confederate soldiers. Skeletal horses. A few metahumans round out their ranks: a speedster in a Japanese demon mask, a man charged with electrical energy, a caped Adonis with red glowing eyes. You might try to find out who they are."

Bee says, "How would that help? If I see them, it is already too late to prevent. Beating on the bad guy after he has already succeeded is Silver Spider's territory. How can I help *prevent* this?"

Harlequin says in a tired voice, "I do not know, Bee. I am seldom given answers in my visions. More like puzzles with a grin and a hearty slap on the back of 'Now solve it!'"

Bee nods, "Okay. If I do see the undead walking, I'll deal with it, of course, but until then I'll assume there's nothing I can do to help with this until I hear from you. You have Hive's phone number. Call me if you think of anything."

Bee glances back down at the pentagram that she has drawn on a map of the city. "Would stopping them help with this new issue?"

Harlequin looks at the pentagram as well. "I would like to say, yes. But no, probably not. They still need to be stopped though."

Bee nods and pulls out a compass and a straight edge out of a pouch. Indicating the map she says, "In that case, it will at least give me something to do. This map is to exact scale with the murder locations marked as accurately as I can. So where would the patients have to have been for this ritual to have affected them as it did?"

Harlequin looks down at the map. He then creates a magical overlay of the exact sized pentagram and lowers it down onto the map. A series of dots appears in the voids where the patients would have been positioned to been touched by the ripples of magic from the ritual. He explains all of this as he brings his magic to bear.

Bee marks the points on the paper. "I was going to ask you a whole series of questions, but this is what I need for now. Go save the world. I'll do what I can in my corner of it."

Harlequin murmurs, "I will send you an extensive text containing what I gleaned from my examination of the ritual site, Bee. If you have further questions, you can contact me. I need to go send my vision to HeroNet and try to pin down where the Reaper's troops will rise from."

Bee says, "They are devilishly hard to find, but I've heard there are several mages within the city. Perhaps they can help you better than I."

Harlequin hehs. "Ah, yes, the rest of the 'fraternity'. I tend to avoid them. They, ahem, frown on my dabblings in the darker arts. I am a bit of a black sheep."

Bee grins, "I know the feeling. For some, black is not just a fashion choice. This is not what my mother had in mind when I told her I was going to be a business executive."

Harlequin adds, "The missing patient is likely not missing, just not physical. The element they represent is Spirit."

Bee nods, "So that means that ... nevermind. That's a bit like asking what somebody with fire powers can do. History has shown the answer is 'lots of different things depecding on the meta'."

Bee speaks into her wrist. "Base, one to port home." Moments later, Harlequin is left alone in the cemetary with his ghosts.