EPISODE 2

Chapter 1

********************************************

Date:  10-21-01, 08:10 PM
RP:    Jordan Yorba
Subject:  {RP} Hello, World
From:  Viki

Jordan moved into the sun.  It played on her eyelashes, making her blink it
away and take a few steps ahead.  She looked around, seeing many tall
buildings and even more people.  She almost didn't know what to make of
it.  At 17, she had very little interaction with the 'real world' and was a little
scared of what might happen to her.  She was always a bit of a pretty girl,
and figured, worse comes to worse, she could flirt her way out.

Continuing down the street, she looked at a passing girl.  She was wearing
knee-high boots with 5 inch heels, a tight mini skirt and a lowcut shirt.  She
looked at her own apparel.  A big baggy sweater, and a ground-length
skirt.

"Alright," she mumbled to herself, "first order of business is to get new
clothing."  She looked around, and saw a group of girls talking.  There
were about 5 of them, all well dressed and chatting up a storm.  She
watched them for a moment, and picked out the one who seemed to be the
most compassionate.  She approached the group slowly.

"Umn, hi." She began.  "My name is... Paige.  I just moved here, and, as
you can see, my clothes suck."  A small girl with brown hair spoke up.
"Oh my god. Jen, look at her clothes!  You poor girl, where did you live?
A farm?!"  Jordan just smiled and gave a small nod.  "Okay.  Okay, this is
not a problem.  I mean, you're pretty... Ash, she's about your size, right?"
A tall blond girl gave an enthusiastic 'yes' and picked up her hair a bit.

"Okay, your hair is *gorgeous* darling.  Look, I'll call Alberto, my
hairdresser, and get you an emergency appointment.  Girl, this is an
emergency."  Jordan smiled and laughed along with the other girls, who
looked about 20 or 21.  3 girls were on cell phones talking to various
Alberto's, Andréo's and Carlos's.  Another girl was guiding her by the arm
to a nearby cab, and another was talking to her, telling her she had a
beautiful complexion and that she was soooo blessed.  She just smiled and
laughed, and thanked her lucky stars that she was able to talk her way into
this.

********************************************

Date:  10-22-01, 05:38 PM
RP:    NPC
Subject:  {RP Ep 2} "From The Shadows" (Attn: Will)
From:  Brandi

In the dirty swell of urban life, he remained wholly unnoticed.

From the shadow of a newsstand, Jachin ["Yah-kin"] watched the young
woman step from the alley into a yellow pool of light.  Maybe twenty feet
away, Jordan stood blinking at her new birth, her exodus from the
mountain.  Under the rough wool sweater, long skirt, sparkling eyes, she
was the child he'd lifted from the doorstep so long ago.  Startled, yes;
bemused by the filth of the modern world, but entirely herself.  She was
Ceres, his daughter.  That would never change.

Upon finding Jordan missing, there was no question as to what he must do,
of what he would be REQUIRED to do in order to bring her back.  That is
the very reason Jachin stood stiff and uncomfortable in a gray business suit,
alone in a sea of strangers.  Initially the monastery had been skeptical of
such a radical move; to leave the mountain and enter modern life, but had it
not been for their support and understanding, none of this would have been
possible.

Standing there, watching her, he was more than a monk in a business suit.
He was Jachin the tutor; the parent, the playmate.  He was Jachin the spy.
The word sit sourly in his mouth, convicting him.  He remembered not so
long ago a conversation with his daughter; a plea for freedom, a reprimand.
And now, overwhelming guilt at having caused her rebellion.

Girls were talking to her now, no more than harlots, touching her hair,
laughing.  Had he not seen it himself, it would be easier to deny... but
Jordan was smiling.

As they led her away, Jachin was decided.  The Divine would protect
Jordan until he could persuade her to come back, but until then, he needed
to know she was alright.  That she was safe.

Reaching into his strangely-smooth coat pocket, Jachin proffered a
cellphone, a device he'd scarcely learned to use.  On a little slip of paper
was a number--the number of a boy he'd known before the monastery,
surely a man now... the son of an old friend.

His hands shook only slightly as he dialed the number, taking a deep breath
when a self-assured voice answered.  "Agent Mercer?  You don't remember
me, but... I need your help."

********************************************

Date:  10-23-01, 11:57 PM
RP:    William Mercer
Subject:  {RP, Ep 2} In reply to : {RP Ep: 2} "From The Shadows" (Attn: Will)
From:  Will

The trip into Washington had actually been a welcome relief from the stale
air of the numerous station houses he'd grown so used to in the past
months.  He'd been working like a mad man the last few weeks; compiling
maps, gathering file upon file on the recent problems, and giving briefs to
Intell officers who'd turn around and give the same info to a dozen or so
flight crews.  Strangely, he wasn't tired, but in the dimly lit apartment
overlooking the Capital he found himself getting tense.  There were a
million things to be worried about, and time hadn't done him any favors in
easing the burden.  The research, the briefings, none of it was in his
jurisdiction, but old bosses and project leaders that left the National
Security Division to pursue positions in a dozen or so alphabet agencies
hadn't forgotten him, and continued to plague him with "extra credit"
details to fill in.  His thoughts turned inward as his eyes scanned the
darkness.  He hadn't even really finished moving in yet, cardboard UHAUL
boxes lined the walls, and a fat tactical nylon bag lay hunched on the hard
wood floor.  The only decoration he had been able to set up other than his
laptop, was a limp looking plant by the window, that he had come to call
Vicki.  The silence of the room struck him in an odd way, being alone most
of the time was something you could live with, but never get used to.  His
stomach felt empty, the back of his neck a little stiff, and the familiar
feeling of sadness brushed against his mind.  He remembered Robert
DeFoe's face, a funny little guy with a thick Brooklyn accent and a hell of a
friend when all the chips in the world seemed to be down.  Now Rob was
gone too, and he had to start all over.  He had called his parents the day
before to tell them of his new location, and for the fiftieth time his mother
had reminded him he still wasn't married.  It wasn't as though the lack of
female companionship wasn't noticed, but the void was less noticeable with
the work.  He'd set aside some time to settle down, and maybe even move
to Savannah.  He smirked quietly as he rose from the soft chair, no matter
what happened he was moving back South.  No one would know it from
the amount of education and lack of an accent, but Will was a Southerner
at heart.  "Probably why I'm thirsty all the time.."  He said quietly as he
breezed to the small refrigerator.  He opened it to find only a half gallon of
milk, some orange juice, and a six pack of root beer, secretly he knew
exactly what he felt like.  A vodka on the rocks with a twist of lime would
settle the nerves and take away the "alone" feeling, but then he recalled as
he always did Robert's last conversation with him.  The phone call just
before DeFoe had been in the accident, about how he should quit the
"boozing" all together and focus about what was important.  Mercer stood
there in front of the open ice box, his right eye misting when suddenly the
silence was broken by the phone ringing.  He pushed the fridge shut, and
turned on his heel to snag the phone, picking up he pressed it to his ear.
His voice was deep, but with a touch of youth still added to it.  "William
Mercer... Yes this is Agent.. I see, okay what can I do for you?"

********************************************

Date:  10-25-01, 09:10 PM
RP:    NPC
Subject:  Re: Re: {RP, Ep 2} From The Shadows
From:  Brandi

> He pushed the fridge shut, and turned on his heel to snag the phone,
> picking up he pressed it to his ear.  His voice was deep, but with a touch
> of youth still added to it.  "William Mercer... Yes this is Agent.. I see,
> okay what can I do for you?

----

Jachin plugged one ear against the din of midday city life, closing his eyes
to still his thoughts.  "You don't remember me," he repeated into the
phone, "But I knew your father.  Peter and I were great friends when we
lived in Italy.  Remember your parents' little house in Abruzzo?  You
practically lived in those caves growing up... your mother picked daffodils
and lay them in the sun to dry, and every Sunday she ground pesto for her
sauces.  Do you remember that?  I lived in the valley, just down the river.
You were just a boy, then, and it was so long ago, but, I was wondering if
you might permit me to at least explain myself, and my situation."

"Your father gave me your number.  You see William, I have a daughter,
Ceres.  Though I am an old man now, a monk, I'm the only father she
knows; therefore it is up to me to make sure she is safe."

"Agent Mercer, she's never been down from the mountain; I worry for her
safety.  She's an intelligent young woman, but--" Jachin took a breath,
steadying himself.  "I know this is all a surprise to you, but I have no one
else.  The police have no jurisdiction where I'm from... you're my only
hope.  So, will you help me?"

********************************************

Date:  10-29-01, 01:59 PM
RP:    William Mercer
Subject:  Re: {RP, Ep2} From The Shadows
From:  Will

> "You don't remember me," he repeated into the phone "But I knew
> your father.  Peter and I were great friends when we lived in Italy.
> Remember your parents' little house in Abruzzo?"

Mercer blinked quietly in the darkness, the voice seemed vaguely familiar,
but the memory was distant in his head.  He spoke with uncertainty lacing
his voice.  "Umm, sorta... I remember Italy somewhat, especially enjoyed
the caves just outside Sant'Egidio alla Vibrata."

> "You practically lived in those caves growing up... your mother
> picked daffodils and lay them in the sun to dry, and every Sunday
> she ground pesto for her sauces.  Do you remember that?"

William frowned.  He didn't like it when someone began describing his
memories in detail, especially a someone without a face or name.  "I've
lived in a lot of places, after a while they kinda blur... you seem to have
quite a good memory though, where were you then?"

> "I lived in the valley, just down the river.  You were just a boy, then,
> and it was so long ago, but, I was wondering if you might permit me
> to at least explain myself, and my situation."

He narrowed his eyes, out of the blue phone calls were odd, even for his
line of work.  "I'm sorry to sound a little stand offish, but how is it you
were able to find me?"

> "Your father gave me your number."

"Ahhh.... I see..." Although it seemed unlikely his father would be so
sloppy, at this point it didn't matter.  If it was a setup he had to find the
source of the problem, if this was genuine then he could afford to help
anyway.  "Well, what can I do to help you then?"  Mercer replied.

> "You see William, I have a daughter, Ceres.  Though I am an old
> man now, a monk, I'm the only father she knows; therefore it is up
> to me to make sure she is safe."

He wanted to say no.  Playing baby-sitter was far from the favor he was
used to doing for an old friend.  "Daughter?  Sir I.."

>"Agent Mercer, she's never been down from the mountain; I worry
> for her safety.  She's an intelligent young woman, but--" Jachin took
> a breath, steadying himself.  "I know this is all a surprise to you, but
> I have no one else.  The police have no jurisdiction where I'm from...
> you're my only hope.  So, will you help me?

Will took in a deep breath, how hard could it be?  He'd go, check her out,
make sure this girl was "safe", and be done with it. ".....When and where
did you last she her?  Yes sir.. I'll help the best I can."

********************************************

Date:  11-02-01, 09:23 PM
RP:    Jordan Yorba
Subject:  {RP, Ep 2} Next RP
From:  Viki

After thanking the group of girls, and getting each and every one of their
cell phone numbers, Jordan started down the street.  She walked for quite a
bit before stopping in a park.  She didn't know what to do, she was still lost
in the world.  In 17 years, this was her first exposure to the world.  She
wondered what would happen.

She got up and started walking again.  She stopped at a sign in the park,
looking for 'young, fit people willing to work hard'.  She smiled, and pulled
the phone number off the paper.  She walked over to a payphone, and,
dropping in a quarter from some money given to her by Ashley, she dialed
the number quickly and smiled as if they could see it through the phone.

"Hello, I'm responding to an ad looking for hard working young people?"

********************************************

Date:  11-03-01, 01:01 PM
RP:    NPC
Subject:  {RP, Ep 2} Sunshine Cleaners
From:  Nancy

Caridad Benitez pushed a stray strand of bleached blonde hair away from
her eyes, hung up a set of work shirts wrapped in clear plastic, and pushed
a button to move the clothes around the rack.  Short, somewhat
overweight, and solidly muscled from years of hard work with industrial
washers and pressers, she had owned and managed Sunshine Dry Cleaners
since she'd become a widow many years ago.

She barely heard the phone ring above the noise of the machines.

> She walked over to a payphone, and, dropping
> in a quarter from some money given to her by Ashley, she dialed
> the number quickly and smiled as if they could see it through the phone.
>
> "Hello, I'm responding to an ad looking for hard working young people?"

Caridad cleared her throat.  She'd put up that flyer two weeks ago, and out
of the few people that had come by, not one had accepted the job after
taking a look around.  It was a hot, steamy place with heavy equipment,
rude customers, and the job paid minimum wage.  Trying to sound
cheerful, she spoke into the phone:  "Oh, hi.  Yes.  I need someone who
can start right away, and in addition to your paycheck you can have a free
room.  Do you know where Sunshine Cleaners is?  On eighty-seventh
street?"

********************************************

Date:  11-07-01, 03:31 PM
RP:    Alex Benton
Subject:  {RP}
From:  Nicca

Her eyes were shut, blocking what little light seeped in through the
curtained windows.  White flashes of lighted sparked behind her closed lids
as she felt the tingling in her feet make its way up to her thighs.  She
scrunched her eyes shut tighter and began to grit her teeth as it moved
further up her body.  She had not expected this feeling to assault her so
soon.  Usually she could keep it contained until at least an hour after it
began but here tonight, she felt it start to envelop her.  The shallow pants
that escaped her were now mingled with another's.  She moved her hand
down to her stomach, lazily drawing circles in the sheen of sweat that
coated her body knowing the forehead of her partner was hovering above
her pubic bone while hot breath bathed her inner thighs.  The lights flared
up again and her stomach coiled tighter as she felt herself slide off the edge.
She began to pant in long deep breaths that made her dizzy and on each
exhalation she heard her voice come out in barely audible "Ohhhhs".  This
was happening to fast.  This is not exactly how she had planned it.  But it
was finally happening so perhaps she shouldn't complain.  She began to
relax into the feeling when a sound from the corner of the tiny room caught
her attention.

*Ziiii  Ziiii......Ziiii  Ziiii*

"God, not NOW!"  She tried to move away from the coupling but felt arms
holding her thighs down onto the mattress.

"Leave it.  If it's important, they'll ring back later".  Lips resumed their
fluttering dance downwards.

"It IS important.  No one ever calls me unless it's important.  Let me up."

*Ziiii  Ziiii....Ziiii  Ziiii*

She pushed herself off the bed and landed awkwardly on the floor.  Her
arms shot out to her side and cartwheeled, trying to help her keep her
balance.  She heard a low chuckle coming from behind her and catalogued
this moment for later, when the punishment would be dished out.  She
squinted in the darkness looking for her clothing and straining to hear the
muffled ring.  Finding the pile of clothing that was hastily removed earlier,
she felt the pockets of her pants for the tiny phone.

"Damn it... Damn it.  Where is it?"

*Ziiii  Ziiii.....Ziiii  Ziiii*

Her bag!  She bolted over to the small study table and flipped open her
leather satchel.  Sitting comfortably between her class notes and her copy
of "101 ways of saying "Freeze or I'll shoot": The comprehensive guide for
law enforcement techniques that do not offend offenders" was her cell
phone.  She made a mental note to upgrade to a portable brick so she could
find it next time.  She pulled it out and clicked on 'Yes'.

"Benton"

"Where the hell are you girl?" her room mates voice belted over the phone.
"You had better get your ass back here now and I mean pronto.  There's a
guy here who wants to scout senior cadets for a place in Domestic
Terrorism and honey, you've been short listed.  He wants to see you
a.s.a.p. so stop doing what I know your doing and get yourself back here.
Can I say you'll be 5 minutes?  It wont take you long to slip across the
campus so move it."

She threw her phone into her bag, looked over at her lover.

"I gotta go.  I apparently need to meet someone.  I'll be back when I can."

She was hastily pulling her jeans up over her hips when the light in the
room flipped on.  She squinted momentarily, waiting for her eyes to adjust
to the light and looked at the woman standing naked in front of her.

"What's happening?"

"Look Lesley, I don't really know yet but Lucy called and said that this guy
is scouting for new recruits into DT and I'm up for a shot.  I'll call you
when it's over and I'll come and finish off what we started."  Lesley took
her into her arms and licked her neck as Alex tried to button up her jeans.

"You better and next time, I'm going first".  Lesley shot her a cheeky smile.
So there was going to be a next time eh?  No time to think about that now,
off to see about securing a job.

She grabbed her shirt and pulled it on, quickly looking at herself in the
mirror and decided that she could get away with it.  She picked up her
satchel and slung it over her back and made her way to the door.  Lesley
was now robed with her hair pulled back off her face.  She leaned near the
door frame and looked at Alex.

"If your late to my class again, you'll receive a citation.  I want you to have
you weapon cleaned and ready because I'm calling on you to take the
simulated hostage situation first tomorrow.  Just 'cause were seeing each
other, doesn't mean you get to fly my course.  If anything, I'm gonna make
you work harder.  Now good luck, I hope you knock his socks off."
Lesley kisses her deeply then opened the door slightly to peer down the
hall.  "All clear.  Call me."

Alex slipped out of the room and made her way down the hall way with
one of the biggest, self satisfied smiles on her face.  As she neared her own
dormitory, she began to feel some self doubt.  If she were to get a position
on the Domestic Terrorism team, she would need to work her ass off to
prove she was worth it.  But then again, she had never had any problems
proving her worth in the past.  Damn it Alex, think positively.  She rounded
the corner of the hallway to her dorm room and was confronted with two
people standing at her door.  One was her room mate, Lucy Hastings, a
young african american woman who had befriended her on orientation day
but the other individual had her stumped.  There stood a balding man who
appeared to be in his mid 40's who looked like a bear next to Lucy's small
frame.  He possessed a confidence that was unmistakable.  This man was a
somebody.  As Alex approached them, she smoothed down her shirt and
ran her fingers through her hair.  The large man turned to her and the full
force of the situation hit her like a brick.  She recognized him immediately.
It was Assistant Director Walter Skinner.

********************************************

Date:  11-08-01, 04:23 PM
RP:    Jordan Yorba
Subject:  {RP} Re: Next RP
From:  Viki

> "Oh, hi.  Yes.  I need someone who can start right away, and in addition
> to your paycheck you can have a free room.  Do you know where
> Sunshine Cleaners is?  On eighty-seventh street?"

Jordan squinted and looked at the street she was on.  Eighty-fourth.
"Umn, I'm sure I can find it.  When would you like me to drop by?"  She
looked at a very nice watch given to her by either Beth or Ashley.  It read
2.37pm.  She thought for a moment, and looked back at the street sign.
"How about 40 minutes?  Will that be okay?"

********************************************

Date:  11-12-01, 03:42 PM
RP:    NPC
Subject:  Re: {RP} Re: {RP, Ep2} From The Shadows {by Will}
From:  Brandi

> Will took in a deep breath, how hard could it be?  He'd go, check her
> out, make sure this girl was "safe", and be done with it.  "....When and
> where did you last she her?

The old man took a shuddery breath; a sigh of relief, had he not been so
tired.  "I saw her just this morning at the corner of," Jachin squinted at the
street sign directly above him, "East 72 and Bloomington, Minneapolis,
MN.  When I saw her she was talking to some girls about her age, and then
she walked away with them.  As for pictures of Jordan, I don't have any,
but I have filed a description of her with Minnesota Missing Persons.  With
your contacts you should be able to access it readily.  I'm sorry I can't do
more, but I hope that at least gives you something to go on."

> Yes sir.. I'll help the best I can."

"Thank you so much William, you've made an old man very happy.  I'll be
in touch with you, to check on your progress.  Thanks so much again... I
must be off."

With that, Jachin hung up the phone, saying a silent prayer that Agent
Mercer could indeed help as much as he'd hoped.

********************************************

Date:  11-16-01, 08:06 PM
RP:    NPC
Subject:  {RP, Ep 2} Did Someone Mention Domestic Terrorism?
From:  Nancy

> Jordan squinted and looked at the street she was on.  Eighty-fourth.
> "Umn, I'm sure I can find it.  When would you like me to drop by?"  She
> looked at a very nice watch given to her by either Beth or Ashley.  It
> read 2.37pm.  She thought for a moment, and looked back at the street
> sign.  "How about 40 minutes?  Will that be okay?"

Caridad Benitez said that was fine and hung up the phone.  She gave a
customer his dry cleaning, put the cash in the till, told him to come again.
After checking on one of the washers, she went in the office to prepare for
the prospective employee.

She brushed her hair at a small mirror on the office wall.  She'd been
considering letting the natural salt and pepper grow in, stop messing with
the hair dyes.  After she tied it back up in a bun, she paused at the black
and white photo of her late husband.  He was dressed in military clothes,
and she had taken the picture just before he went to Guatemala to train.
That was the last time she'd seen him alive; he was killed by the Cuban
army at the Bay of Pigs.

"Te amo," she said to the photo.  "All my hard work soon pays off.  They
should have sent their own to the Bahia de Chochinos, and now all the
Gringos will be sorry."

She looked at the photo for a few more minutes, then looked at the mess in
the office and sighed.

She picked up the cassettes from "Learning Language Series: How to
Speak Arabic" and put them in a desk drawer.  The flight manuals were too
thick to fit in the drawer, so she put them in the cabinet in the corner of the
office.  Her notebook containing recipes for bombs went in the file cabinet.
The Minnesota Free Men's pamphlet on "The Truth About the US
Government and How to Fight Back" was thin enough to hide under the
desk calendar.  But under the calendar was a newspaper article.  She pulled
it out, read the first few paragraphs, and smiled.  A major success it had
been for her, to take out Robert DeFoe and make it look like an accident.
The investigators never suspected foul play, and that gig had earned her
respect with her fellow soldiers, who now considered her more than just a
money launderer.

She slid the news clipping back under the calendar, and glanced at her
watch.  Jordan should be here at about twenty after three.

********************************************

Date:  11-16-01, 08:17 PM
RP:    Jordan Yorba
Subject:  Re: {RP, Ep 2} Did Someone Mention Domestic Terrorism?
From:  Viki

Jordan looked up at the street sign.  She was on the right street.  She
looked at the time, which said it was 3.13pm.  She sighed and continued
down the road, searching for the laundramat.  Finding it down the street,
she started to walk a bit quicker.  She didn't want to be late for her
interview.

She walked in, and a small bell attached to the door rang.  She looked
around.  It was a pleasant place, with the smell of warm and clothes in the
air.  She saw the small counter with a register, and a door to what looked
like storage of clothing.  She smiled at the woman behind the register, and
extended her hand.

"Hi, I'm Jordan."

********************************************

Date:  11-17-01, 12:52 AM
RP:    William Mercer
Subject:  reply to "Re: {RP} Re: {RP, Ep2} From The Shadows {by Will}"
From:  Will

> The old man took a shuddery breath; a sigh of relief, had he not
> been so tired.  "I saw her just this morning at the corner of,"
> Jachin squinted at the street sign directly above him, "East 72
> and Bloomington, Minneapolis, MN.

The words slapped him in the face like a cold wet towel.  His expression
visibly surprised, though his stance left unchanged.  Thoughts spilled into
his mind as he listened.  Minneapolis?  What the heck was he?  Federal
Express?  Okay okay, calm down.  Any missing person case is like an
algebra problem.  It just requires the right questions, and the right order of
steps.

"Do you remember what she was doing?  Do you have a recent photo?
Remember what kinda clothes she was wearing?  Anything like that?"

> When I saw her she was talking to some girls about her age, and
> then she walked away with them.  As for pictures of Jordan, I
> don't have any, but I have filed a description of her with
> Minnesota Missing Persons.

It was something.  Small as it was, it was a piece of the puzzle.  A few
possibilities flashed into his brain.  Could she be a runaway rather than
missing?  First order of business for a runaway was money.  A Job?  Yes,
maybe.  Prostitution?  Likely.  Drugs?  A possibility.  Gang?  Would
depend on the person.  Minnesota Police Department would have a line on
the local pimps and pushers.  Worse came to worse he could flash a badge,
smile, and get a few names.  He'd have to work it from there.

"It's not a lot.. but it'll do.  The police files should be helpful."

> "With your contacts you should be able to access it readily.  I'm
> sorry I can't do more, but I hope that at least gives you something
> to go on."

>> "Yes sir..  I'll help the best I can.  Don't worry, you've done all
>> you can.  I'll try to get it touch with you if something pops up."

> "Thank you so much William, you've made an old man very
> happy.  I'll be in touch with you, to check on your progress.
> Thanks so much again... I must be off."  With that, Jachin hung
> up the phone, saying a silent prayer that Agent Mercer could
> indeed help as much as he'd hoped.

The phone call ended abruptly.  Mercer smirked lightly as he hung up.

"A regular wham bam thank ye ma'am of the intelligence community."

He sighed frustratedly, and walked towards the closet that housed his
suitcase, ID, shoes, and his Springfield Armory .45.  He could call up Carol
after he finished packing, ooze with charm and get a two-way "agency paid
for" ticket to Minnesota.  Jesus it was going to be a long week.

The next day.....

William had slept little the previous night, and the phone call with Carol
had earned him a seat in coach.  It wasn't great, but at least it was a seat.
Usually waking up at five AM wasn't a problem, but it seemed to be just a
little more annoying knowing it was Saturday.  He had arrived at the
airport early that morning.  Mercer grabbed a coffee on the way to Gate
9A, and realized half way there that the ticket was an aisle seat.  He took
the chair near where they were boarding another flight, and flipped on his
laptop.  Wondering in the back of his mind who he'd be sharing the trip
with.

********************************************

Date:  11-30-01, 06:57 PM
RP:    NPC
Subject:  {RP, Ep 2} 11-30-01
From:  Nancy

Walter Skinner pushed his glasses up his nose, looked away, then turned to
Alex Benton.  "Benton?  Alex Benton?"

He rolled his eyes.  All those years with the FBI, this is what his career had
been reduced to - messenger boy.

"I have an assignment for you."  He handed her an envelope.  "Caridad
Benitez, Minneapolis, Minnesota.  Recent intelligence has found clues that
she may be connected to some anti-government organizations.  You are to
verify the intel, and if true, bring her in.

-0-0-0-0-0-

Caridad Benitez showed Jordan the industrial washers, the steamers, the
buttons on the clothes rack.  Gave her the safety speech for the dry
cleaning fluids, walked her through the efficiency upstairs.  Told her she'd
be working with the customers, using the cash register, the machines.
Took her in the office and peeled off an application from the pad.  Told her
the rate of pay, and quickly, before Jordan might realize how low it was,
said, "I hate these formalities, applications.  You?  Look, I give you this
apartment key, you take the job.  What do you say?"

********************************************

Date:  12-01-01, 08:22 AM
RP:    Jordan Yorba
Subject:  Re: {RP, Ep 2} 11-30-01
From:  Viki

Jordan looked at the woman.  She was being offered pay (not matter how
small) and a free apartment.  She thought about it momentarily.

"Yeah, okay.  But could I have an advance on my first paycheck?"  She
realized that was a stupid move.  "It's just, I just moved here from another
place, a bit in a rush... I don't have any clothes other than what's on my
back right here."

********************************************

Date:  12-04-01, 01:15 PM
RP:    Alex Benton
Subject:  RP, Ep 2 {by Nicca}
From:  Nicca

Benton looked at the bulky man before her.  It had been nearly three years
since she had seen him last, whilst attending the Internship program with
the Bureau at the end of her first year of Yale.

*He remembers me, I can tell.  He's rolling his eyes at me like he used back
then.  He looks a little annoyed as well.  Maybe because he is here notifying
a rookie their dreams have come true.  Too bad.*

She smiled at him as he handed her an envelope.

"Sir, this is an unexpected pleasure.  I don't know how all this came about
assigning a cadet to a mission like this but I promise you I wont let you
down.  One thing I really don't know is why me?"

********************************************

Date:  12-05-01, 01:53 PM
RP:    William Mercer
Subject:  RP, Ep 2
From:  William

Comfort Inn
Minneapolis
Wednesday 0500

Mercer sipped an orange juice as he pulled his coat on in the dimly lit hotel
room.  The hot shower left his short hair still a little damp, but none the
worse for ware.  It was raining anyway, and the weekly outlook didn't
expect much else other than the wet weather.  The black leather flight
jacket was a gift from his brother during Christmas four years ago,
ironically it fit better with time.  A Springfield Armory Model 1911 .45 was
snuggled tightly into the clasped lock of his concealed shoulder holster, an
extra two magazines at the small of his back.  He pulled on a Yankees
baseball cap and stepped outside, carrying a small duffel bag over one
shoulder, making sure to lock his room before departing.

The flight from Washington hadn't been too horrible, he had made small
talk with a leggy blonde from Georgia, and for once the inflight movie
wasn't starring Pauly Shore.  William had got in late, but luckily the Police
station was a 24/7 operation.  The bad news was they had about as much
information about the girl as a Chinese jet pilot had about French fashion
designers.  The air was cold, and it made Mercer's face feel chapped from
when he had shaven.  The cops had zilch, which meant checking the
streets, the pushers, the pimps, and if he got lucky a couple of the sweat
shops.  Dealing with criminals was a lot more like dealing with politicians
than anyone would believe.  They were glad to help, just as long as it
wasn't their feet or their job in the frying pan.

Mercer fished out the keys to the parked Jeep Cherokee he had rented, and
unlocked the door.  Tossing his duffle bag into the back seat, he climbed
inside and pulled the door shut.  Mercer turned on the radio and waited for
the heat to start up.  It was going to be a long day.

********************************************

Date:  12-07-01, 04:19 PM
RP:    NPC
Subject:  Re: RP, Ep 2 {by Nicca}
From:  Brandi

> "Sir, this is an unexpected pleasure.  I don't know how all this
> came about assigning a cadet to a mission like this but I
> promise you I wont let you down.  One thing I really don't know
> is why me?"

"I sense a great deal of potential in you Benton.  Although it is rare that a
cadet is assigned to such a case, I feel you are the right person for the job."
To his ears he sounded less and less convincing the more he spoke, and the
fact that he felt so out of place there in the hallway wasn't doing anything
to boost his confidence.  "I came by to give you your orders.  You are to
meet me in my office ASAP for a full briefing.  Are we clear?"

With that, Skinner turned and started down the hall.  Once to his car, he
clicked on his cellphone and dialed a number.

"This is Skinner...I've just done what you asked."

"Is she on the case?" a voice inquired.

Skinner was 2-feet from pissed as he searched for his keys, squeezing the
phone between his shoulder and ear.  "Yes," he said through clenched
teeth.  "Now do you mind telling me what the hell all of this is about?"

"Yes I do, actually.  I'll be in touch."

*click*

"Sonuvabitch," Skinner muttered under his breath.  He'd taken a lot from
the top, maybe a little more than he should've, but being ordered to assign a
rookie to a domestic terrorism case?  It didn't add up... unless someone
knew something he didn't know.

********************************************

Date:  12-12-01, 01:17 PM
RP:    Alex Benton
Subject:  RP, Ep2 by Nicca
From:  Nicca

Alex watched Skinner walk away from where he had left her with a manila
folder containing what she assumed was a run down of this Caridad
Benitez and the mission that she was to complete.  She was to infiltrate this
woman's militia group, ascertain any threat and possibly detain her.  She
stood stunned, still in the hallway outside of her dorm room, looking at a
spot on the wall trying to calm her nerves.  She felt her stomach lurch and
her mouth fill with saliva.  OH God.  Her cheeks puffed out as she
envisaged her vomiting right here in the hallway.  She held her stomach and
ran into her room, wildly looking around the small space for something she
could use as a receptacle.  The Cadets unfortunately do not have the luxury
of private bathrooms and the closest woman's toilet was down the end of
the hall.  GOD! She began the ritual of dry heaving when she spotted her
roommates empty crisp bag crumpled in the trash bin.  Pulling it out of the
trash, she noticed she had deposited her used teabags on top of it.  She did
NOT need to rifle through the garbage at the moment.  After successfully
opening the bag, she placed her mouth to it and closed her eyes.

"What in God's name are you doing?"

Alex looked at Lisa, her roommate standing in the doorway; hands on hips
with her eyebrows arched all the way to God himself.  As she waved
frantically to her to close the door, Alex vomited.

"Oh God.  I'm gonna die."

Alex carefully twisted the top of the bag and went to place it back in the
trash.

"Uh UH.  I don't think so!  Go take that down to the bins in the bathroom.
Come on, I'll come with you and you can tell me how well your meeting
went."

The two women walked down the hall way towards their bathroom.

"I got an assignment."  Alex smiled weakly at her friend while Lisa's eyes
widened.

"I'm running cover for a militia group in Minnesota, some South American
Organisation.  I'm leaving in a couple of hours and should be back within a
fortnight.  Please don't tell anyone where I am, I'm not sure I'm even
supposed to tell you but I know I could kick your ass if you blabbed."

Alex smiled at her friend and lightly jabbed her in the ribs.

"I shouldn't miss too much study but can you keep a tab on any
assignments and notes I may need?"

Lisa arched her eyebrows again "After that little ass kickin' thing?"  She
smirked at Alex and flopped her arm around her shoulder.  "Only if you
remember me when you're running this joint."  It was Lisa's turn to ruff up
her pal.  Lisa looked at her wristwatch and sighed.

"I gotta get out of here.  I've been "volunteered" for munitions duty and I
can't get out of it.  Take care of yourself girl and I'll see you soon."

Lisa pecked Alex on the cheek, lightly squeezed her arm and strode out of
the bathroom, letting the door bang closed behind her.

Alex looked at herself in the mirror bolted to the wall.  She stared at her
reflection wondering what had brought her to this assignment.  She was a
rookie for Christ's sakes.  Skinner had not answered her question as to
why she was chosen to conduct this operation but the look on his face was
grave when her question was asked.  Perhaps there was some ulterior
motive for her placement.  She hoped it wasn't what she thought it might
be.  She had tried for years to distance herself from her families association
with the government but she had an inkling that her father might have had
some influence over this placement.  God, she hoped not.  Maybe Skinner
received her file as a recommendation but she felt like this was the work of
her over bearing father.

She turned on the cold water tap and soaped her hands into a lather.  She
would pack casually, jeans and a few sweatshirts should do it.  As she
rinsed the soap from her hands she thought of Lesley.  She didn't have that
much time to fill her in so perhaps she should call her on her way to the
airport.  "God I hope she'll understand" she muttered to herself.

Alex shook her hands of excess water and wiped them down her jeans.
She should look over the contents of the folder before she left so she had
some background information before she took her flight.  She could
scrutinise over the documents during her commute to Minnesota.

When she was back in her dorm, Alex sat at her table and opened the
folder.  Inside were various snapshots of Caridad and unknown associates,
a profile sheet with pertinent information about this woman, an airplane
ticket to Minneapolis, Minnesota and documents to verify my cover.  She
was to present herself to Caridad as Michaela San Jorgena of
Quetzaltenango, Guatemala.  Her Spanish was good and since she had been
spending a lot of time outdoors recently, she had maintained a decent tan.
She could research Quetzaltenango on her laptop during her flight and
gather as much intelligence as was accessible on Caridad and her cause.

Under all of that, Alex found a small envelope that was addressed to her.
Upon opening it, she found a note from AD Skinner.

          Benton,
                        Meet me at Gate 12 before you leave for your flight to
Minnesota.  I'll explain why you're going and what you're to do.  I must
emphasise the fact that you must remain discrete.  I have provided my cell
number for emergencies only.

          Skinner.
          021-33-555-8795

God.  What am I involved in?

********************************************

Date:  12-14-01, 09:24 PM
RP:    William Mercer
Subject:  RP, Ep 2
From:  Will

The morning of driving through the suttle fog an occasional downpour had
left Mercer chilled to the bone in the cheap rental.  The heater had only
started working less then twenty minutes ago, when it should have started
more than five hours previous.  He only had a few leads to show for the
aching body, and what he thought was the beginning of a cold.  The now
damp baseball cap seemed to hug onto the top of his head, desperate not to
fall off.  He stepped out of the car as he parked it by a small twenty-four
hour cafe.  The setup was perfect, popular enough to get customers,
unpopular enough not to get too many.  

A strawberry blonde wearing a purple mini skirt and stiletto heels stepped
out from the corner, wiping her lips.  She was followed by a short,
account-looking balding forty year old.  Adjusting a pair of rimwire glasses
on the end of his nose as he handed her the money.  Mercer leaned against
the side of the car and placed a cigarette between his lips.  The john took
off as soon as the exchanged was made, the hooker moving to the diner
after turning her trick and getting the payoff.

William looked up, removing the cigarette from his lips.  "Hey, you want a
drink?"  The street walker gave his a sarcastic look.  Mercer smirked.  "No,
 nothing like that, I meant it.  Its cold out here, and I don't feel like eating
alone."  There was a brief pause, but then a look of slight trust on her face.
"...okay.. you payin the tab Mr.?"  Will smiled and held open the door.
"After you."

The hooker's name turned out to be Christina, she was an innocent looking
girl with blue eyes that made you feel sorry she was in the line of work she
was.  She was just a slip of a woman, but ate enough Chili to even put
Mercer in awe of her appetite.  She smiled gratefully.  "Thanks Will... I had
a really good time."  William smiled.  "Hey its no problem, you got a place
to stay?"  Christina nodded.  "Tonner Hotel down on Milton Street... its
not to far."  Mercer paid the bill and tipped the waitress.  "Need a ride?"
Christina pulled on her coat and shook her head.  "Thanks but I'll be
cool.. seriously.. just hope I got enough for Vinny."  Mercer reluctantly
pulled the cap back on.  "Vinny?"  Christina fixed her hair into a pony tail
as she slipped out.  "Yeah, Vinny Sarms, hes my... he holds the
money.. stays in this little room down just a block from here.  If I don't
come in on time with enough dough, he gets real sore."  Mercer's eyes
narrowed.  "More like you do, right?"  Christina forced a small strong
smile, the makeup hid the bruises, but not all of them.  "..Naaa ye got it all
wrong, don't worry I'll be fine, thanks an all Mr."  The young prostitute
then vanished down the alleyway.  William began thinking about the
possibility of this Vinny guy knowing about the runaway.  He smiled as he
stepped past the door.  It only took him a few moments to decide.

Vinny Sarms sat half naked, watching the tv and smoking a cheap cigar.
The night had made good profit so far, he was working three girls on the
west side of town, not to mention the ones Southside.  The Smurfs
Christmas special blipped onto the screen just as a knock came at the door.
"Eyy... Bout time.. tha you Christina?"  Sarms stood up shakily and opened
the door.  He was met by a blow to the face and another to the stomach.
Vinny stumbled back blindly and slid against the opposite wall.  In the door
way stood a broad shouldered man wearing a soaking Yankees baseball
cap.  "You Vinny?"  Sarms looked up half dazed as blood trickled from
both nostrils.  "You, you I don know you.... who the f..."  Vinny's sentence
was cut short by something being placed in his mouth, it tasted cool,
metallic, and then sudden recognition as he heard the click of a hammer.
Mercer held the .45 carefully as he stared coldly at Sarms.  "Information is
the key to you surviving right now Vinny.  Right now, you better start
praying you have what I want."  Sarms's eyes widened as Mercer spoke.
William held up a picture.  "Who is this woman... and have you seen her?"

********************************************

Date:  12-18-01, 09:38 PM
RP:    NPC
Subject:  Re: RP, Ep2 {By Nicca}
From:  Brandi

Skinner slugged antacid from a half empty bottle, staring a hole through the
clock on his desk.  It had been 45 minutes since he talked to her... and she
had yet to arrive.

A few more minutes, he told himself.  A few more minutes before he sent
someone after her.

The phone rang.  Skinner capped the antacid bottle and squinted at the
LCD, noticing the call was his private line.  With an acquired apprehension,
he picked up the handset.

"Skinner," he said coolly.

"Assistant Direc-tor," the man said with a heavy Parisian accent, "It
appears we have a situation."

Skinner's blood ran cold.  This was not the man he'd spoken with earlier.
While he did not know the man by name, or even by reputation, he knew
the people he worked for; because he worked for them too.

"What do you mean, a 'situation,'" Skinner spat.

"Someone is working outside the Bureau's, main-stream.  Did you know
that Mr. Skinner?"

Skinner felt his pulse steady, a sigh of relief threatening to escape his
tightly coiled throat.  Of course... it was only Mulder.  "Listen, Mulder
and Scull--"

"No, no, Mr. Skinner, Mulder is no more a concern than usual.  There is
another; someone who has poised an inta-resting problem to our
like-minded associates."

When Skinner said nothing, the man continued.

"His name is Agent William Mercer.  It appears he has taken an individual
interest in a particular case... a monastery incident that has recently
occurred.  And while he is currently on administrative leave, his interest in
this is a concern to all involved.

Assistant Direc-tor?"

"Just who the hell is this," Skinner spat.  "I know nothing of any 'William
Mercer.'  And what does he have to do with me?"

The man on the other line replied, "It has every-thing to do with you,
Mr. Skinner.  You work for us now... our concerns are naturally yours, of
course."

"I work for no one," Skinner said.

"Oh I beg to differ, Mr. Skinner."

The silence between the two endured for eons until Skinner spoke.  "What
do you want me to do," he asked begrudgingly.

"I want you get rid of Mercer.  He is looking for a girl... a runaway from a
large monastery in the mountains.  He cannot find her before we do,
Mr. Skinner."  The man's voice took on even more ice.  "Take care of it."

And the man ended the call.

Skinner was reeling.  What did the Syndicate want of a Buddhist monastery
in the mountains of Minnesota?  He walked over to the bookshelf and
retrieved an atlas, opening it to the appropriate page.  The missing girl
knew something, that was for sure... had information on something that
was going on there, and the Syndicate was afraid she would talk, now she
was out in the real world.

He closed the large book, one finger on the phone, thinking.  How did
Mercer fit into this?  He had to have a contact, someone who wanted his
help.  And the girl... she must have lived there... but why?  And more
importantly, why did she run away?  He depressed the intercom button.
"Kimberly, get me any information you have on an Agent William Mercer.
Background information, recent credit card transactions, rental car
agreements, phone records, anything and everything."

Just before he hung up, Kimberly interrupted him.

"Sir, Alex Benton called while you were on the phone... she said she was at
the airport, waiting for you at Gate 12, as you requested."

Damn.  The note.  He had meant to take it out of the folder, at the last
minute thinking it was best to meet in his office instead of at the airport.
He'd been waiting for nothing.

"Fine.  Kimberly call her on her cell and tell her I'll be there as soon as
possible."

---

All the way to the airport he thought of the call, and of Mercer and the
missing girl.  As if this day could get any stranger, he thought grimly.  First
he was "encouraged" to put a rookie on a domestic terrorism case, and
then, this.  However Mercer was involved, he had to make sure the agent
found the girl before *they* did, even if that meant stepping outside the
boundaries of reason to make sure it happened.  It wasn't like he hadn't
done it before.  One thing he was sure of, though, was that Mercer had no
idea what he was getting in to.  The more he thought about it... neither did
he.

As for what was going on at the monastery, he hadn't a clue; only that the
Syndicate was involved in a very big way.  Briefly he contemplated
bringing Mulder and Scully in on it, but reconsidered.  Mulder had a way of
complicating things.  If this situation involved the Syndicate, they'd find out
about it sooner or later.  First of all he needed to find Mercer--before
someone else did.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Dulles International Airport
~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ahead he saw Benton, standing nervously at Gate 12, checking her watch.
He approached her with a stiff outstretched hand.  "Alex, I'm sorry for the
mix up.  I hope Kimberly explained everything."

He looked around for the latest VIP conference room, but found nothing.
There wasn't enough time, anyway; where they were would have to do.

"You will have a minimum of three weeks to get to know Caridad and get
some insight into her operations.  In the past she's taken in runaways and
and put them to work in her dry cleaning business, actually nothing more
than a front for her terrorist operations.  After you've established your
cover, it might be a good idea to question some of the people that work for
her.  As soon as you've gathered the data required, your mission is over."
He stopped short, lifting his eyes above his wire-rim frames.  "I'm sure I
don't have to remind you that you are to tell no one about this, not even
your family.  We've taken care of everything.  I can't stress this enough, no
one is to know of your mission."  His eyes darkened, narrowing a bit.
"And Alex, if you sense trouble at any time, we pull you out.  Understand?
Your safety is our chief concern."

"I will be your only liaison during this mission.  You will contact me and
me directly via a secure line."

He handed her another folder, this one thicker than the last.  "In here you
will find information on Caridad's latest activities.  Use this information
wisely, Benton.  And remember, she's not your friend.  Caridad is not an
easy woman to get to know, but once you're on the inside, it becomes
harder to stay objective, especially with her."  He paused a moment,
glanced quickly at the first class passengers already boarding the flight.
"This won't be easy Alex, but I trust you can pull it off."

Skinner looked up and noticed the coach passengers gathering their
carry-ons, preparing to board.

"So, do you have any questions before I leave?"

********************************************

Date:  12-19-01, 09:21 AM
RP:    NPC
Subject:  Re: RP, Ep 2
From:  Brandi

> Sarms's eyes widened as Mercer spoke.  William held up a
> picture.  "Who is this woman... and have you seen her?"

Vinny had an uncontrollable urge to relieve himself, and the taste of
the .45 was doing nothing to reinforce his continence.

He caught the man's gaze and knew he wasn't bluffing.  This guy would
think nothing of killing him.  Finally Vinny's gaze fell on the picture held in
front of his face.  Strangely enough, the girl he recognized, though she
wasn't one of his.  He wasn't sure she was anyone's.  Slowly and carefully
he shook his head to the affirmative, the gun barrel clicking against his
teeth as he did so.

With the gun removed, he was finally able to speak.

"Yeah, I seen her," he said a little defensively.  "But I never worked her, if
that's what you mean."  He looked at the man curiously, wiping blood from
his broken nose.  "Why you care, you her father or something?"

...

"I saw her yesterday, on the corner 84th and Wyle.  Asked her if she ever
thought about walking."  The guy with the gun looked like he could hit him
again, so Vinny continued.  "But she said she already had a job.  Didn't give
me the name of the place, but I saw her turn on 85th and keep going.
That's all I know, I swear."

Vinny crossed his arms across his bare chest and glanced nervously at the
door.  When was this guy gonna leave, anyway?  He couldn't be a cop,
could he?  He thought of the party favors in the back, a black-bottom soda
can and God-knows what else.  The sooner this guy left, the better.

"So Mister, are we done here or what?"

********************************************

Date:  12-20-01, 09:14 AM
RP:    William Mercer
Subject:  Re: Re: RP, Ep 2
From:  Will

> "Yeah, I seen her," he said a little defensively.  "But I never
> worked her, if that's what you mean."  He looked at the man
> curiously, wiping blood from his broken nose.  "Why you care,
> you her father or something?"

Mercer face was stone cold, but sober as he took a step away from the
fallen figure.  This is what had come down to so far, the gun, the bad guy,
and him.  To a certain extent the feeling made him sick inside, but he
managed a smirk through the unpleasantness.  "Yeah.. I'm her big brother.
Where did you see her?"  His voice angry and accusing, the barrel of the
aimed pistol turned into the reflection of a well in Sarms's eyes.

> "I saw her yesterday, on the corner 84th and Wyle.  Asked her if
> she ever thought about walking."  The guy with the gun looked
> like he could hit him again, so Vinny continued.  "But she said
> she already had a job.  Didn't give me the name of the place, but
> I saw her turn on 85th and keep going.  That's all I know, I swear."

William nodded, still pointing the weapon in the general direction of
Vinny's midsection.  "Hmm... okay, good boy.. I'm gonna walk outta here
now, with you alive, and maybe a little worse for wear.. I'm not gonna
come back.  But..." Mercer let a round fly past Sarm's head, the strike of
the bullet splintering wall paper and plaster beside Vinny.  "If I found out
you told me wrong, or I start finding out about beat up hookers near your
area, you'll be a grease spot.. because then it won't just be me you gotta
worry about.  Got it?"

Sarms nodded shakily, his hands up in a defensive gesture over his face.
Still startled by the sound of the gun.

Mercer turned and saw the tv.  Poppa Smurf and the rest of the Smurf
family were decorating for Christmas.  William smiled and looked at Vinny
as he stepped out.  "Good episode.."  And like that, he was gone; leaving
behind a leaky wall, a scared pimp, and Cartoon Network.

********************************************

Date:  12-20-01, 11:56 AM
RP:    NPC
Subject:  {RP, Ep2} Trading Time
From:  Nancy

> Jordan looked at the woman.  She was being offered pay (not matter how
> small) and a free apartment.  She thought about it momentarily.
>
> "Yeah, okay.  But could I have an advance on my first paycheck?"  She
> realized that was a stupid move.  "It's just, I just moved here from another
> place, a bit in a rush... I don't have any clothes other than what's on my
> back right here."

Now, Caridad Benitez was not a trusting and generous person by nature - OTOH, she
really needed a hand around the laundromat so she could spend more time on things that
mattered.  "I tell you what," she said, "I give you a little cash, you give me that watch.
Tomorrow, you get off work, I give you the watch back.  You can start tomorrow
morning, right?"

********************************************

Date:  12-22-01, 10:02 PM
RP:    Jordan Yorba
Subject:  Re: {RP, Ep2} Trading Time
From:  Viki

She nodded immediately; it's not like the watch cost her anything.  She
removed it quickly and handed it to the older woman, and smiled.

"Sure, I can work in the morning.  8 okay?  I can be here earlier if you
want."  She quickly calculated the money she'd get from the advance, and
was in the process of deciding between buying clothes and food when her
thoughts were interrupted by another thought.

"So, umn, can you show me the apartment?"

********************************************

Date:  01-09-02, 04:27 AM
RP:    Alex Benton / NPC
Subject:  Ep 2
From:  Nicca

~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#
9:25am
"Cosy" Thorn Motor Lodge,
Minneapolis, Minnesota.
~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#

The travelling required by field agents was something that Alex was
looking forward to but she couldn't help hide her dissapointment when she
arrived at her "home".  The hotel was nothing short of a dive.  The pebble
crete in the driveway had worn away to the tar and large clumps of weeds
broke through the cracks that seemed to dominate the whole landscape.
The exterior paint had almost peeled away to expose the fibro cladding.
The neon sign advertising the lodge was broken and most of the street
lamps surrounding the lot were also out.  There was only one car in the
parking lot and it had definitely seen better days.  Oh well.  I suppose she
couldn't really rock up to Caridad after lounging in the Ritz but still,
SHEESH!.

Alex walked into the registry office, if you could call it that, to get a room.
The stern young woman behind the counter had given her the once over,
taking in the dirty denim jeans, the embroided orange shirt and her brown
duffle bag resting against her legs.  The tag on the attendents shirt
identified her as "Selma" and Alex made no attempt to hide the fact that
she was reading it.  Selma snuffed and straighted up.

"You wanna room?  Here's the deal.  $30 a night, $40 on weekends.  There
are some rules, so listen up."

She began by running through these list of rules that apparently all patrons
were to adhere to while she organised the papers that were to be signed for
her key.

"1.  No food in your rooms." *great.  I'll be eating out a lot then.*
"2.  No men.  This is not a house of prostitution.  If you want that, go
down to the Strapping Horse Hotel."  *No chance of that.*
"3.  No drugs to be taken on these premises.  We require a $100 cleaning
deposit in case you O.D.  Don't worry missy, don't stuff it and you'll get
your money back."

Alex stood a still as she could while "Norma Bates" went through the
motions.  She kept reminding herself to sign in as Michela San Jorgena.
During her flight she had read through the other file Skinner had given her
at the airport terminal.  The information in the first file she had received
was again included in this folder, along with various police reports and
local FBI field reports on Caridad's recent activities.  There was a report
from a Special Agent Stewart, from the Minneapolis field office, indicating
many of the members of Caridad's militia were residing in the "Cosy"
Thorn Motor Lodge.  It was also apparent that Caridad was controlling a
Laundromat down town where it was suspected that more than clothing
were being "cleaned".

"Don't you speak?"

Alex looked up at Selma and realised that she had zoned out during her
little lecture.  Here we go with the fake accent.

"UH.  Not to very good.  I only be here for a months."

Alex battered her eyelashes at Selma trying to look a little shy and it must
of worked because Selma seemed to lighten up a little and gave her a slight
smile.  The next thing she said made Alex's ears prick up not only because
of what was said but because it was spoken in Spanish.

"AHH, You must be Caridad's new girl.  Welcome, little sister, to the
revolution."

Selma walked around from behind the counter and embraced Alex.  "You
look like a fine young girl.  What's your name and tell me about yourself
while I take you to your room and let Caridad know your here."  UH OH!!
Caridad had a new girl and Selma thought it was her.  Oh christ.  What was
she going to do?

"Uh, I'm not Ms Caridad's new girl but I have travelled very far to meet
with her.  I came all the way from Quetzeltenango to the United States to
join the revolution.  Ms Caridad is well known in my home town for all the
good she has done for ALL of the true South American people.  I had
heard that she has done so much good in this country that I come to help
her fight."

Alex mentally crossed her fingers, hoping she had convinced Selma of her
motives.  Selma narrowed her eyes to tiny slits, her face darkened and she
sneered.

"How did you here about this!"

She grabbed Alex by the throat and slammed her against the wall.  Her face
was just inches away from Alex's with small amounts of spittle flying from
her mouth.

"There is no faction in Guatemala!"

Alex fought off the urge to retaliate, as she had been trained, and tried to
explain her way out of the choke hold.

"No.  No.  There is no faction but we all know of her good.  Please.  She is
the next Che Guevera.  All know of her.  Please, I tell you nothing but the
truth."

Selma loosened her grip slightly, the colour leaving her face.

"We are well known then?  The people know of our deeds?"  Alex nodded
her head in agreeance.

"Of course.  You are like hero's to the people."

Selma let go of Alex and instantly smiled.  She took her hand and walked
her back to the counter where she picked up a set of keys.

"You are in the right place, little sister.  We are the true revolution.  Here
is a room, free of charge.  You must go and freshen up for you must meet
Caridad tonight.  All new recruits are to be introduced at the meeting at
6:00pm.  I feel you bring the change we were looking for.  You are an
omen from the gods."  Selma clasped her hands together and drew them to
her chest.  She looked towards the roof and began to mutter under her
breath.

"Go now.  I will get you when we all leave."

With that, Selma opened the door indicating that there was to be no more
discussion.  Alex took the key offered by Selma, picked up her duffel bag
and left the office.  Sheesh!  That woman is definately a few cans short of a
six-pack.

Alex looked at the number scratched onto the key:  12.  The room was
decorated with drab polyester materials that she was sure had been banned
decades before, both material and pattern.  The walls were covered in
mustard velveteen while the bedhead and accompanying furnishings were
encased in cracked, brown vinyl.  At least the sheets were pure cotton,
probably purchased by accident.  There was a suspicious brown stain on
the carpet near the door and the bathroom was cultivating some serious
greenery.  Alex sighed and dropped her duffle bag on the bed.  The bed
sagged in the middle and the bag rolled into it.  Great.  She fished out her
folder and scanned the room for a hiding place.  On the wall was a terrible
print of a girl crying.  Alex removed it from the wall and looked at the
back.  Just as she thought.  No proper backing.  She ran her fingers around
the rim of the picture and gradually pulled it from the frame, making a
space large enough for her to place the file in.  After returning it to its
proper place, she decided to try and make contact with Skinner.  She
locked her room and strode out into the bright sunlight.  On the street, she
looked left, then right and spotted a pay phone a couple of blocks down.
Perfect.

~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~
9:50am.
Skinner's Office,
J. Edgar Hoover Building,
Washington D.C.
~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~

"Sir, there is a call for you on line 2."

Skinner sat up in his chair and pushed the intercom button.  "Thanks
Kimberley."

He pulled his glasses down the bridge of his nose and wiped each of his
eyes before pushing the glasses back into place.  If it was one more
goddamn agent getting themselves into trouble, he was going to quit!

"Skinner."  He said it without any enthusiasm.

"Sir?  It's Alex Benton.  I'm in Minneapolis and have made contact with
Caridad's group."

Skinner sat stunned.  Benton had only been on the case for 2 and a half
hours and had already completed the major component of her assignment.
Maybe the upper echelon had made a huge mistake putting Benton in to
fail but then he had only surmised that that was why she had been placed
on the assignment to begin with.  Skinner subconsionously checked his
office before speaking into the phone.

"How on earth did you manage that."  He found it difficult to hide his
skepticism.

"I just finished checking into the Motor Lodge, where many of her
supporters are residing, and after a fairly violent introduction to the Lodge
attendant, I've been inducted to the new recruits."

"Are you OK Agent?"

"Nothing a little foundation won't hide sir.  Actually, I'm fine.  A little
nervous about this meeting tonight.  I can't help feeling that I'm being led
to the lion pit.  One thing though, this lodge attendant, Selma, mention
Caridad's new girl.  I'm not sure if that means anything but this woman
seemed fairly excited.  I can write a brief report and e-mail it to you if
need be.  I better go.  I don't know if anyone is watching me yet but I'm
sure it wont take them long.  I will report to you later on this evening and
perhaps we can determine what should be done next."

After they exchanged their goodbyes, Alex hung up the phone and decided
to take a look around the immediate area.  She had a few hours to kill
before she would return to her room and ready herself for her big meeting
with Caridad.  Maybe she would go get a drink.  She needed time to think
about her cover story before it was put to the test.  Damned if she knew
how she would pull it off.

********************************************

Date:  01-13-02, 01:34 PM
RP:    Jordan Yorba
Subject:  Re: {RP, Ep 2} Details at Eleven
From:  Viki

Jordan thanked her quickly and quietly and sat down on the futon in her
'living room'.

"Okay," she thought to herself.  "I definitely need clothes, and food.  So,
let's go buy some clothes and food."  She picked up the money that
Caridad had left on the kitchen counter and walked out the door.

***

She came back a few hours later, a pair of jeans and a few shirts and two
bags of grocerys in hand.  She fumbled around with the keys and bags,
trying to find a way to open the door.  She was surprised by a voice behind
her offering to take a bag.  She smiled at the man, probably not much older
than her, and accepted.  After all her groceries were put away, and the
stranger, albeit extremely attractive stranger, was gone, she sat down on
the futon.  She looked around the dingy apartment and missed her old
home.

"Oh, wait," she thought.  "I hated that place.  Hmn."  She shrugged her
shoulders and decided not to care about it and to just sleep.  She had to be
at work early tomorrow morning quite early.

********************************************

Date:  01-19-02, 10:17 PM
RP:    NPC
Subject:  {RP, Ep 2} Untitled
From:  Nancy

The apartment next to Jordan's looked just like a mirror image of Jordan's
except for the absence of the faux wood paneling wall.  Instead of
efficiency furniture, there were card tables and folding chairs.  Caridad
looked out the window that faced the street, then closed the blinds.  Put
bowls of chips and styrofoam cups on the card tables, made coffee.

She thought about what they should cover tonight, looked over some
notes.  There would be new members at this meeting, and one must always
be careful until one knew their heart was in the right place.  Better keep it
simple, she thought, as she placed a napkin holder on each card table.  Let
the greens introduce themselves, discuss political ideals, nothing violent.

As they started to arrive, she said, "We have to keep it down tonight,
I have a new girl just moved in next door."

********************************************

Date:  01-28-02, 06:29 PM
RP:    William Mercer
Subject:  RP{EP 2} Hotel California
From:  Will

Reality poured from the sky like raindrops of black against the nightsky.
William Mercer looked out at the window at the city sky line and hung his
head feeling a soft chill touch his spine.

The search had turned up barley anything for the first few weeks of the
investigation, but beating up the pimp had more than its own reward.

She was older than he had expected, and almost laughed upon spotting her
across the street.  The reddish purple hair had thrown him for a curve
bigtime, and the eyes a most stunning shade of grey.  She hardly seemed
the child of a monk.  It wasn't that he was attracted, but he had learned
how attached you became searching for someone you've never met.
The cardinal rule in going after a missing person was not getting
emotionally involved.

It was a rule he had a hard time keeping.

He switched on the tv, it dulley hummed to life and began chattering about
the war in Afghanistan.  Somewhere in the middle of all that mess was his
brother, George.  George was a hardcore Marine, the terrorists had more
to fear from him than the other way around.  Mercer smirked as he saw the
report of the Hospital falling to Allied Forces.  "About time.... good job
guys.."

In the back of his mind the numbing sense of something wrong lightly
tapped on his skull.  Something about the case, and something about
Jordan.  Finding her to a certain extent had been the easy part, watching
out for her would be a different story.  Why him?  The Burea hadn't minded
his sudden relocation to Minnesota.  Mostly he filled out paper work, and
the last op he was on Clinton was still in office.

He lay back on the semi-rigid bed and lit a cigarette while looking at the
ceiling.  He though about something Roberyt had once said to him.  The
words echoed past his lips like a dull recording.  "Half of everything is
luck, the other half was fate."  He smiled.  Robert was always a sucker for
the Bond movies.

"Well Robbie, just you and me again.  Mean and meaner.  Hope they have
comfy beds where you are pal..."

William shut his eyes and put out the cigarette.  Tomorrow he'd go check
out where this Jordan girl worked, then maybe he'd talk to Mystery Monk
and tell him his daughter was safe.  For now he needed the rest.  The tv
clicked off and Mercer reached over to shut off the light.  The room
dimmed, and it wasn't long before he drifted off.

********************************************

Date:  02-06-02, 09:58 PM
RP:    NPC
Subject:  {RP, Ep 2} Paciencia
From:  Nancy

Selma, dressed now in a pink sundress and sandals instead of the
attendant's uniform, looked at her watch.

"What are we waiting for, Selma?" came a voice from the car.

"One of the new girls, Jorge," she answered.

"Como siempre.  The new ones are always late."

Selma glanced up at the gray clouds rolling in.  Towards downtown, it
looked like it might already be raining.  "Paciencia."

"Si, of course," Jorge said.  "It's just that traffic is so bad this time of day."

She rolled a driveway pebble with her shoe.  "I guess I'll go see if she's
ready."

She stepped over the weeds, went over to number twelve.  Knocked on the
door.

********************************************

Date:  02-11-02, 11:48 PM
RP:    William Mercer
Subject:  {RP} Episode 2: NSA Blues
From:  Will

William Mercer stared into the mirror as he stepped out of the shower.  His
muscular, naked form quickly covered by a white towel from the rack
beside the tub.  Mercer brushed aside the steam from the glass, and began
shaving briskly.

The morning drizzle had passed without anything notable, and at the
moment, the feeling of being clean again was lovely.

The suit was a dark blue two piece from Brooks Brothers, his wingtips
brought to a high polish.  The three handguns he had stripped, cleaned, and
re-assembled last night lay on the bed-side stand.  As Mercer brushed his
teeth he glanced over them.

The 9mm Berreta, a favorite of his because of the low recoil/high capacity
favor of the weapon.  He had it customized it with a threaded barrel to fit a
silencer, and a Leupold red dot scope atop the slide.

The Kimber Gold Match .45.  Good stopping power at the sacrifice of
capacity.  The usual pistol of this type had a five inch barrel.  He had
converted it to take a seven.

And finally, the flagship of the three in his opinion.  The H&K .40 SOCOM.
A high capacity forty caliber polymer handgun fitted with a lazer and a
surelight.  He had the suppressor removed to give the weapon a little extra
balance when shooting from the hip.

These were just tools for one part of the job though... and even then, only a
possibility.  Surveillance was key, and even he had to admit, the simplicity
in design and sophistication in engineering of some of the equipment,
James Bond, would have been envious of.

He would do a walk-by of the cleaners, and snag a picture of Jordan to
send back to Jachin.

As he removed the towel from his lower half he couldn't help but notice the
same old scar that ran from his upper thigh to his lower hip.  The bullet had
entered his knee while he was lying down, and ran up the length of his leg,
 only to come to the surface and punch out near his waist.  He smirked
lightly, it didn't hurt anymore really, and in a way it made him look rather
distinguished.

"Of course... I'd have to be naked for anyone to notice..so.. there is a
catch."  He mused to himself.

Mercer dried his features after shaving his dark skinned face smooth.  Will
began to dress, pulling on the white dress shirt, the red, blue, and gold tie,
and the blue two piece.  He slipped into his wingtips and tied them
appropriately.  Mercer was about to leave when he looked at the guns
again.

"Hmmmm... to carry, or not to carry... that is the question."

Mercer reached down and picked up the SOCOM, holstering it under his
arm, and being sure to pack, lock, and hide the others safely in the room.

Slipping the chrome case into the airvent and latching it shut again, he
thought back to his time with NSA Station Berlin, and Natalie.

He remembered the whole opera in a blink; the way her hair smelled when
it pressed against his face.  The way her eyes almost seemed to smile when
they looked at him.  The way she kissed goodnight, and the way she
laughed goodmorning.

Mercer reached for the door.

He remembered December 15th... a cold snowy day in East Germany.
Intell had been tracking ghost messages for the past month when they got a
solid lead on an interloper working, or hired by the IRA.  It was a little
church outside of the village of Sturdhause... It was so cold that day.

William opened the door and stepped through, being sure to lock the
entrance.  His brain resumed the hellish bit of nostalgia crawling through
his mind.

The cold had surprised Mercer, even for winter in Germany.  Natalie was
going to meet him that evening for a special dinner in Stutgaut.
He was sent in solo, weapon of choice in his hand, and the order to
"discretely eliminate" the contact.  God had a bad sense of humor that day.
He wasn't sure what his first thoughts had been when he saw Natalie
there... whether it was that he knew she had been the contact all along, or if
he was momentarily mystified by her presence.  She hadn't hesitated
though, and the first round tore through his shoulder.  Natalie had stalked
him down the hall and into the darkened chapel for five minutes before he
was able to jump her from behind.  He had found himself strattling her,
with a gun to her head.

Mercer stepped to the hotel elevator and pressed the button.  Natalie's words echoed in his mind.

"But Wilhelm... my sweet will... I'm.. I'm your Natty."  It was the last
words she spoke before Mercer had placed a bullet into the base of her
skull.  "Goodnight Nat..."

The woman in the elevator gave Mercer a strange look.  "Huh?  Sorry
Mr. My name isn't Nat."

William smiled apologetically, hiding the sadness in his face.  "Oh of
course, pardon me ma'am, just thinking out loud."

He crossed the street and flipped on the glasses containing the three shot
camera, and walked towards the cleaners.

********************************************

Date:  02-14-02, 07:39 PM
RP:    William Mercer
Subject:  {RP} Episode 2: Jachin Phone Call
From:  Will

William Mercer took a bite of blueberry muffin as he scanned the pictures
onto his laptop.

They weren't brilliant, but they showed that it was cleary Jordan.  Luckily,
he didn't have to win any awards, just prove he had found her.  Mercer
began typing.

' Access main program...

Access main program\birdsong

Access main program\birdsong\file transfer
Access main program\birdsong\file transfer\secureconnect'

......................Loading..............

Requesting File number?

_125689_

Access Granted

Mercer smirked as he hit enter, one more keystorke and he could send the
images to the Priest's ghost email account that Will had set up himself.  He
picked up the phone and hit redial.

"Hello... sir?  Go to your computer, I have something for you."

********************************************

Date:  02-16-02, 01:20 PM
RP:    NPC
Subject:  Re: {RP} Episode 2: Jachin Phone Call
From:  Brandi

The winter sun shone brightly on the sun-bleached porch, doing nothing to
warm, only illuminate.  It is like the Divine, Jachin mused, the life of a
follower is far from comfortable, yet what is gleaned from understanding is
wholly worthwhile.  He smiled at this latest observation, gently rubbing the
sandalwood mala he held in his hand.  "Understanding is illumination," he
chanted softly, "like the cold winter sun... Understanding --" when from far
away a ringing became evident, growing louder and finally breaking his
meditative state.  Ruefully he glanced at the modern device he'd been
forced to carry since Jordan's disappearance.  It was a bother, but at least it
connected him to Agent Mercer.  Quickly he pressed his forehead to the
ground in recognition, and reached over to where the cellphone lay on his
zabuton.

"Yes?"

> "Hello... sir?  Go to your computer, I have something for you."

A smile broadened the old man's face.  "I take it you have found Ceres.
Thanks be to God, I will check it at once.  Oh and William?  Do approach
her for me, will you?  Tell her her father loves her, and worries for her
safety.  Thanks to you William, kindly accept my blessings for your good
work.  I will be in touch."

Jachin turned off the phone and returned to his quarters.  Since he was an
elder monk, and because of the special circumstances, he was allowed the
modern privilege of a computer and printer, and had even been assigned a
secular tutor by Tenzin so that he may operate it correctly.  Jachin signed
onto his e-mail account and began downloading the attachment.

In the e-mail there were recent images, five in all.  One of Jordan coming
out of a department store.  One of her carrying a bag of groceries into a
building.  One of her standing on a street corner waiting for the light to
change.  In the other two, Jachin could not discern the setting.  In them all,
though, she looked well, and for some unusual reason this hurt Jachin.  He
still considered her his little girl, no matter what her worldly interests.
Perhaps he had hoped she would need him more than he needed her.  His
eyes filled with tears, both joyful and longing.  If only she would try to
reach him, just to tell him she was alright.  Perhaps her disinterest was what hurt him the most.

********************************************

Date:  02-17-02, 04:45 AM
RP:    Alex Benton
Subject:  {EP 2} *Day of the Dead*
From:  Nicca

Alex had been pacing her hotel room for near fourty-five minutes, trying to
clam herself and prepare for her introduction.  She looked at the ratty clock
hanging next to the chipped wall mirror (for what felt like the hundredth
time).  She was late meeting Selma but this was what she wanted.  She
didn't want to give off the wrong vibes and seem too eager.  She pulled the
curtin slowly away from the window sill to make enough room for her to
peer out.  Selma was leaning into the passenger side of a beat-up, brown
Olds Mobile, talking to the driver.  After a few moments, Selma looked
towards her room and slowly pushed herself off the cars side and began to
walk straight towards her.

OH GOD! OH GOD!  I can't do this.  I'm not ready!!

Alex gave herself one quick look in the mirror and felt a small amount of
pride when she saw what looked like a South American peasant girl who
wouldn't hurt a soul.  The image looking back at her gave a small smirk.
YEAH RIGHT!  I'll kick ass if I need to.

Alex spun on her heels, strode over to the door, and pulled it open
expecting to see Selma but instead was greeted by a large, rather apish
looking man.  Under his right arm was the slumped figure of Selma while in
his right was a shot gun.  He held the gun like it was a twig, as though the
weight was of no concern to him but all the same, it was pointed directly at
her.  Alex glanced over at the brown Olds Mobile and noticed a smattering
of red on the drivers-side windscreen.  Another rather large man moved
towards them with what looked like some kind of sling-shot.  DAMN!  She
looked back at the loof in front of her and then at Selma and noticed that
there was a small wound near her ear but she couldn't determine whether it
was fatal.

"Well Chickita, It looks like your coming with us, eh?"

It was not a question.  Alex was definately gonna have to go somewhere
with this guy.  She slowly raised her hands and tried to look as calm as she
could.  Would Michela cry?  Would she put up a fight.  Should she keep up
her identity or try something?

The second sling-shot guy moved into her room, up behind her and pushed
himself up against her back, grinding his crotch into the small of her back.
He leaned in to smell her hair and gently nipped her neck.

"Mmm.  This one is mine Ramone.  She is sooo sweet.  You ever been
plucked Chickita?"

He grabbed a handfull of her hair and guided her out of the room.

"NO NAMES You Stupido!!  To the car, NOW!"

OK.  Im dead.

********************************************

Date:  02-17-02, 07:48 AM
RP:    NPC
Subject:  {RP} Ep 2: Musings of a Light-Haired Man
From:  Brandi

The light-haired man stood across the street from the Sunshine Cleaners,
trying very hard to look inconspicuous.  As it was often with himself and
his counterparts, though, he didn't wear "casual" very well at all.

Mercer was there earlier, but he didn't approach her.  Good, he thought
with a smirk, I will be first after all, the way it was supposed to be; the way
his boss had arranged it with AD Skinner.  He thought of the usefulness of
the FBI and smiled.  Ahead, the girl was in sight again, visible through the
window of the cleaners.  Pretty young thing, he allowed, though she looked
like a fighter.  Discreetly he felt for his weapon through his jacket, lightly
tracing its form.  He needed no sticky entanglements today, not with the
importance of this job.  From what he'd been told by his superiors she was
"special" (as were all his targets) but somehow different.  She didn't belong
on the outside, rather, but up in the mountains with those old monks.  Up
where she couldn't be "ruined" by outsiders... where *they* could watch
her until she was ready to complete her training, whatever that meant.

No use thinking about it, he conceded, because she was coming with him
no matter what her purpose.  Quickly he glanced at his watch, looked both
ways before crossing the street, and entered the Sunshine Cleaners with a
bag of clothes.  If I'm really suave, he thought proudly, I won't even have
to use the chloroform.

********************************************

Date:  02-17-02, 05:16 PM
RP:    William Mercer
Subject:  Re: {RP} Ep 2: Musings of a Light-Haired Man
From:  Will

William Mercer walked down the street towards the cleaners.  The
walk-way was pretty much barren except for a rather attractive brunette
crossing the street, and a light haird guy entering the same place he was
headed.

Jachin had the photos, and even though he seemed happy to get them, there
was a certain sadness in his voice.  Talk to her though?  Ooo... that was
going to be new.  What do you say to someone you've searched for, found,
and watched for two months.

Mercer smirked.  Hello was a good start.

As he drew towards the dry cleaners, he glimpsed the flash of red and blue
lights, and two police cruisers pulling up short at the building across from
the laundromat.

"Oh dear..."

Four policeman burst out, armed with shotguns, pistols, and the fourth
carrying a battering ram.  They smashed in the door and charged in.

Mercer shrugged and continued walking.  "Must be a raid..."

He entered the cleaners, seeing Jordan less than five feet away from him,
and another man with light hair and a large bag of what appeared to be
clothes at the counter.

He'd wait till this guy was done, and then talk to Jordan... privatley.

********************************************

Date:  02-17-02, 07:56 PM
RP:    Jordan Yorba
Subject:  Re: {RP} Ep 2: Musings of a Light-Haired Man
From:  Viki

Jordan smiled at the older man who had just paid for his laundry, consisting
of two polo shirts and a pair of golf pants, and closed the register.  She
swiped at the hair in her eyes, and smiled at the man in front of her.

"Hello?"

********************************************

Date:  02-19-02, 03:28 PM
RP:    NPC
Subject:  Re: Re: {RP} Ep 2: Musings of a Light-Haired Man
From:  Brandi

The man raised his voice a bit to drown out the sirens across the street.
Although he was not a criminal in the "cops and robbers" sense of the word, sirens always made him nervous.

"Hello there," he said brightly.  His eyes fell briefly on her nametag.
"Jordan, I think it is.  What a lovely name."  His smile was oceans wide as
he leaned in a little too far, elbows on the counter.  "You certainly can help
me," he said has he placed the bag on the counter and slid it across.  "You
see, I have these clothes I'd like to---" but he stopped short when the bag
of clothes, having been pushed a little too forcefully, spilled behind the
counter and onto the floor below.  To his credit, the man even blushed in
embarrassment as he stepped out of line, towards Jordan.  "I am so, so
sorry; please, allow me to just help you with that..."

As the man slumped over the spilled clothes, his arm went into his jacket
and unlatched the gun from his holster.  As he wrapped his hand around the
grip and moved to face Jordan, the little bell at the top of the door rang.

Silently he cursed his misfortune as he straightened reclaimed his place in
line.  A perfect plan, foiled by a stupid customer.

He muttered a thanks as he accepted his claim ticket, clenching his jaw ever
so slightly as he passed the nondescript stranger that had ruined everything.

********************************************

Date:  02-19-02, 06:06 PM
RP:    Jordan Yorba
Subject:  Re: Re: Re: {RP} Ep 2: Musings of a Light-Haired Man
From:  Viki

Jordan smiled at the man, and blushed at his compliment.  He had been
very polite, and quite charming.  Apparently the big city wasn't as evil as
the monastary had lead her to believe.  She extended the man the ticket so
that he could claim his clothing and smiled again.  He left, and she saw
another man come in.

"Hello, can I help you?"

********************************************

Date:  02-20-02, 08:20 PM
RP:    William Mercer
Subject:  Re: Re: Re: Re: {RP} Ep 2: Musings of a Light-Haired Man
From:  Will

Mercer simply looked at her for a few moments.  Not a dead stare, but
almost a warm look of care on his features that didn't even notice the other
man's abrupt exit.

"...I..... oh yes of course, I apologize."

William smiled charmingly, his dark eyes light sparkles that seemed to well
up with a disarming grin.

"I'm Special Agent William Mercer..." He waved his hand as though to
dismiss the worry.  "Please don't be frightened, you're not in trouble.  I was
sent by your father to make sure you were okay... and to tell you for him,
that he loves you, misses you, and wants you to give him a call when you
feel ready.

I'm not sure what happened, thats not my business, I'm just a
messenger.. And I'm not here to take you back to where ever you left from
either, you can decide when or if you want to return."

Waiting to see what your reaction will be, his expression similar to a guilty
little boy.  Not making any sudden moves and his entire demeanor
apologetic in spirit.

"I wish there was an easier way to tell you all this... but your father seemed
very worried for you."

********************************************

Date:  02-22-02, 04:41 PM
RP:    Jordan Yorba
Subject:  Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: {RP} Ep 2: Musings of a Light-Haired Man
From:  Viki

Jordan's mind reeled.

"My Father?  I'm sorry, there must be some kind of mistake... my
father... well, he's been dead for a very long time.  You must have me
confused with someone else."  She smiled, trying to recover from the
momentary shock.  "I'm sorry you came all the way over here to find
you've got the wrong person.  I... I hope it hasn't been too much of an
inconveniance."

********************************************

Date:  02-22-02, 04:56 PM
RP:    William Mercer
Subject:  Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: {RP} Ep 2: Musings of a Light-Haired Man
From:  Will

He smiled and shook his head.

"No, no... You're father was quite specific... gentleman is a monk I believe?
Names is Jachin?"  He blinks, a little more worried than annoyed.

"You are sure... this guy I'm telling you about isn't your father?"

********************************************