Play@YSDC

The room is dark when she wakes up. The sun must not yet have dawned and she stayed up late last night finishing a shoot on ELF waves being potentially responsible for the bizarre moods felt by residents of an allegedly haunted tenement block in the outskirts of Berlin. Yet, for some reason, she wakes up with the finality of knowing she won't be going back to sleep - as though she had slept her fill. Yet she still feels quite tired.

OOC: Describe your home and your character's usual actions in this kind of circumstance.

Milly starts awake amid a tangle of twisted sheets, the air conditioning rapidly cooling her sweat-damp skin. The same dream again, her mother's pale face, dark eyes glittering, mouth soundlessly forming words that Milly cannot hear. With a sigh, she rises, all possiblity of sleep fled.

Pulling on a light running suit, Milly stumbles over her clothes from last night's shoot and emerges into the sitting room of the luxury suite -- one more in a seemingly endless succession of temporary domiciles. Snapping on a lamp, she dials room service and asks for two poached eggs, fruitcup and wheat toast -- no, rye toast.

She shoves back a couple of armchairs to clear a space and begins a series of slow, rhythmic movements, between a dance and a workout. By the time the buzzer signals the arrival of her food, tai chi chuan has cleared her mind and relaxed her body once again.

She admits the bellman and cart, signs for the order and locks the door. While she eats, she slips the DVD of the DeNacy Show into her laptop and watches it yet again. When the recording ends, breakfast done and sunlight beginning to transluce the sheer draperies, she crosses to the bathroom to begin her morning routine.

Outside, light begins to brighten the night sky as the sun slowly creeps up to the horizon. It hasn't peeked out yet, however. The deNacy Show reaches its mysterious ending not long after she's finished eating.

Milly has her day off today. She's been advised by Daniel Carter, himself, the head honcho of "Hidden Places" to perhaps visit the Pergammon Museum on Museum Island to see the 3rd Liltian Tablet in the Kamchatka Display. If she wanted, though, she could drop by his office at around nine to help him screen new cameramen. Considering he wanted "Hidden Places" to go with the expedition to Kamchatka, and was trying to organize that, it'd be important for her and the crew to get along. Another option was to simply relax, check her emails and do whatever she usually did on her days off.

After breakfast is cleared away, Milly showers and makes up. She scans her emails briefly, discarding bodily enhancement and cheap pharmaceutical spams, forwarding professional proposals to her manager (how do these people get her personal addy?), and responding to the only personal message from a chum in Hong Kong, Peter Chong.

By then she figures the Pergamon Museum should be opening, so she sets off across the city to Museumsinsel to see the Kamchatka Display and the third Liltian Tablet. Surely Carter is competent to screen a cameraman. They're all just silent cyclopes to her anyway, though of course she'll be collegial with whoever is hired. It's simple professionalism -- she isn't some sort of diva, after all.

After a thirty minute walk down Unter den Linden and Am Lustgarten, she is crossing the museum grounds from Bodenstrasse and approaching the museum itself. Inside, she realizes that she is a bit winded and sits for a few minutes before inquiring directions to the Kamchatka display.

Sitting, she notices the museum shop has a set of items on shelving that seem familiar. A plastic version of a Liltian tablet faces away from her. A tall, colourful hard-copy book with KAMCHATKA written on the back. A much smaller paperback. A series of other odds and ends that may be part of the same set of merchandise.

The Pergammon museum seems particularly busy. She can see the receptionist is virtually swamped with people. She also notices a sign erected not far from the reception desk, advertising tour guides and mentioning that the tour will go through the special exhibits. The tour will start in ten minutes.

Otherwise, she can simply ask for the receptionist and have a look at it herself without listening to the tour guide's descriptions.

Milly registers for the guided tour. She then selects all the Kamchatka-related items at the gift shop and checks the bag at the cloakroom before the tour starts.

The total for all of the Kamchatka items comes up to an equivalent in $210 in euros, which is hardly anything to her large income.

A woman stands shyly by the signpost, shuffling from foot to foot. She's dressed in the Pergammon museum tour guide outfit but seems really out of place amidst the very outgoing staff that normally populate this area. Her name tag reveals she's Natasha Chaikovskaya though she doesn't make the connectionfor the moment.

Milly joins the group, browsing through the paperback version of the Kamchatka book. Although she doesn't recognize Ms. Chaikovskaya, she does keep glancing at her.

The paperback book details a translation (and slightly jazzed-up version) of the diary found on the last ill-fated expedition to that mountain that led to the Tzarist government banning all travel to it in 1788. Good things it's a jazzed-up version. It would likely be very dry stuff considering the time when it was written.
"Uh, hello? I-Is everyone here who's going to be here?" Chaikovskaya cranes her neck to see everyone among the gathering crowd. "I guess we should really be off."

"Well, this, uh, this Pergamon Museum was built from 1910 to 1930 and houses original-sized, reconstructed monumental buildings such as the Pergamon Altar, the Market Gate of Miletus, and the Ishtar Gate, all consisting of parts transported from the original excavation sites," Chaikovskaya says with a shy smile, her cheeks burning pink. "The museum is subdivided into the antiquity collection, the Middle East museum, and the museum of Islamic art. The museum is visited by approximately 850,000 people every year, making it the most visited art museum in Germany. It contains one of the Liltian Tablets that was found in a ... a dig in the Middle East ... and it was presented here be-because the museum director is quite fond of the expedition..."

"Can we just skip the rest of the museum guide and just go straight to the tablets," says a man in a business suit. There is a chorus of agreement from the crowd.

Chaikovskaya doesn't seem to understand how she should react. "Well, I, uh, I was told that I should... There's meant to be another tour guide with me. I'm just ... a guest tour guide ... well ... I suppose that's how you would ... well, how I should be ... well, described." She cringes inwardly.

"Perhaps, Fraulein, you would prefer to wait until the regular guide joins us. I'm certain none of us would mind waiting for a few minutes." She beams her brightest smile at the other visitors to gain their compliance and spare the young woman any further discomfort.

"Yes, yes, thank you," Chaikovskaya says. "It should hopefully be only a few more moments. Perhaps ... perhaps we could convince her to simply go to that exhibit first?"

"That sounds like a good idea, fraulein," says a cheerful, elegant brunette in the tour guide uniform. Her name tag identified her as Maria Swann. "Any objections?"

There is a chorus of agreement.

Milly relaxes -- realizing how tense the young woman's discomfort made her -- and dutifully falls in line with the others.

"Hey, you're that girl from "Hidden Places"!" states a trendy young man who falls in line with her. "Right? You're her? Wow, is that why you're here? Is this another hidden place you're going to check out? The Museum or the mountain? Wow, I love that show. Could I grab an autograph?"

"Sometimes I just go places for fun," Milly whispers, as she favors the young man with her the-fans-are-the-reason-I-do-what-I-do smile (which she's practiced until it looks at least 80% genuine) and scribbles her name on his program. "Let's not miss any of the information."

With that she turns her attention resolutely to the guides.

So begins a trek through the Pergammon Museum, seeing the various exquisite artwork and the beauty of the ancient world. One of the highlights of the museum is the Pergamon Alta, which was transported and rebuilt from the original excavation site. The Pergamon Altar is a magnificently opulent structure originally built in the 2nd century BC more in the Ancient Greek city of Pergamon (modern day Bergama in Turkey) in north-western Anatolia, 25.74 kilometers (16 miles) from the Aegean Sea. It has long been assumed that the temple was dedicated to Zeus. This museum in Berlin was originally mainly built to display it.

Yet another are the Ishtar gates to Babylon Castle. There is one particular area they walk through before entering the Liltian Exhibit seems almost creepy and she instinctively pauses as the others move passed. She feels watched.

There is a scent in the air ... something unsettling ... something familiar...

OOC: Remember italics mean non-roll links.

Milly halts in her tracks and looks all around, but can't locate any watchers, except for the ubiquitous security cameras. She shivers slightly as she tries to place the strange odor. For a moment, she feels tired and much older than her years.

Then she makes a determined effort to throw off the feelings and hurries to catch up to her group. Soon she is standing in the first rank, listening to Miss Swann'a spiel, but unable to keep from glancing at the other guide.

"I-I suppose now's the part where I should, uh, explain," Chaikovskaya says, her pretty pale cheeks growing rosy even as she speaks. "I-I'm Natasha Chaikovskaya, th-the linguist, erm, epigrapher, who managed to translate these tablets. The Liltian Tablets are written in a language that uses a complex system of symbolic inter-relationships between the various symbols etched into the stones. It's like, the symbols themselves aren't the only words, there's also words and meanings in the spaces in between them, in the relationship between each symbol and the one next to it - like in our language - but also in the relationship between each symbol and the one above it, in each group of symbols and the grouping next to it. It's like a complex mathematical formula where every single piece of it forms a singular sum ... basically, the whole tablets have one meaning ... like all those symbols are just one word ... but that word is infinitely complex and is the equivalent of one of our paragraphs or even a whole page."

Behind her is a display hidden behind a glass wall of a fake snow-covered mountain slope where three men stand huddled around a flame, wearing old Russian mountaineering outfits.

"Th-these men there, they are, the ones who died, in that expedition, the 1786 ones. I mean, not them, precisely. These are mannequins. But they are mannequins representing them. Uh... And ... er... The items around them, the lantern, metal pieces, all that ... are what was found there. Where they were found. Where they did. There is a, uh, there is a diary in the display case over there..." She points to a space near them. "That diary is the actual one ... it was found and carefully preserved by this man's brother ... I, uh... Any questions?"

Milly raises her hand and smiles encouragingly at the stammering epigrapher (have to nail down the meaning of that word, she thinks).

"What is The Word -- the overall message -- that the tablets mean to convey? And is it the same on the other iterations found elsewhere in the world?"

"The o-overall message is disturbing," Chaikovskaya says. "It seems to be some kind of cry for help for a city lost in perpetual splendor and ruin. At least, that's the overall meaning of all of the tablets. And no, they each have an independent meaning, almost like a stanza of poetry. It's just that the independent meanings, when put together, also have an additional meaning - which seems to be some kind of S.O.S. including co-ordinates."

"A distress call? From whom? To whom? And what is the location of the coordinates? Have you determined that?"

Milly realizes she has threaded her way to the front of the crowd and may be seeming a bit confrontational.

"Rather than take up everyone's valuable time," she says in a lower and more modulated voice, "Maybe we should discuss this more in depth after the tour. Over coffee, perhaps?"

Chaikovskaya seems stunned by her abruptness. "The co-ordinates are on a particular mountain ... there's to be an expedition to see," Chaikovskaya says. "The distress call isn't addressed to anyone. It seems to be a-an open invitation. It's given by a-a group of people. Perhaps the whole city? It's certainly a 'we', not an 'I'. It's very apologetic about it, almost. And, uh, I don't think it'd be, uh, appropriate if we were to meet and have coffee. I-I'm sorry. V-very busy. Y-yes."

She seems to blush even harder and stares at the floor. Perhaps with more time, Milly might be able to try and persuade her otherwise. The moment the tour ends might be a good time to start.

"Please excuse my impulsiveness, Fraulein," Milly says quietly, "I fear I am sometimes overly enthusiastic." With that, Milly melts back into the tour group. When she can, she drifts over to study the Liltian Tablet in its display case.

"Th-that's quite all right," Chaikovskaya says.

The other tour guide catches everyone's attention by clearing her throat. "Okay, from the start. In 1786, a team of nine explorers within the Kamchatka peninsula noted that no one had gone up one particular mountain. They decided to be the first to reach the top of the peak, with one such member keeping a journal of his exploits. Unfortunately, they were consumed by some bizarre malice that had sunk into one of the valleys that co-existed in the one-mountain dimension and the one-mountain-range dimension, and several ripped each other apart. As one of the explorers was from a noble family, rescuers were sent out after them. One such rescuer was the noble’s brother who, upon feeling the urges within the valley, and seeing the mutilations of the body, was so shaken that he made it his life mission to have the entire mountain declared out-of-bounds. Somehow, he managed to succeed."

The Liltian Tablet appears to be made from a piece of lapis lazuli, smooth on the front side, rough on all of the other sides. It's one inch thick, ruler height and about 2/3rds of a ruler length across. The symbols remind her of astrological star signs but with several differences.

Milly drifts along with the group, paying loose attention to Fraulein Swann's lecture and unable to keep her gaze from drifting to Fraulein Chaikovskaya. She realizes that she is beginning to feel somewhat fatigued and, looking at her watch, realizes that it is already noon.

The lecture ends soon after and she watches the crowd disperse. Chaikovskaya and the tour guide talk to each other briefly for a few moments more before going to head their separate ways.

Milly crosses quickly to Chaikovskaya before she can disappear.

"Pardon, Fraulein," she says, proffering her business card, "Please let me know when and where it would be convenient to continue our discussion." She presses the card into the young woman's hand and turns away.

"Hidden Places?" Chaikovskaya says. "You will be on the expedition with us?"

Milly turns back.

"Oh, of course! I don't know where my mind is lately. I knew I should recognize your name, but I couldn't place it. I was thinking that an epigrapher must be some fusty, fussy librarian-type, but you're so --" Milly blushes, somewhat flustered, "Anyway, I am very pleased to have made your acquaintance, Natasha. May I call you Natasha? I look forward to our closer association. Erm..." Milly decides the best course is to just stop talking.

If she were looking to Natasha to ease the awkwardness of the encounter, it didn't seem to be about to happen. She just stands there, nervously turning the business card over and over between her fingers, looking very focused on the piece of card.

Milly glances at her watch.

"Oh! look at the time. I really must be going... lunch meeting with my business manager." Milly begins to back away. "Almost forgot. Lovely to meet you. I look forward to..."

She walks briskly to the cloakroom to recover her almost-forgotten purchases, then goes out to the taxi stand and gets a cab to the Adlon Kempinski. In her suite, she orders a light lunch and begins to review the materials on the Liltian Tablets and the Kamchatka area. By the time her salad and mineral water arrive, she is no longer thinking about Natasha, but studiously jotting notes in the margins of books.

The book on the Kamchatka Diary is actually a fairly easy read and towards the end it picks up on threads of tension introduced earlier and fans them into a wild blaze. A very disturbing location for a film shoot, if ever she'd seen one. She remembers Carter's cautioning that she should make sure she's in tip-top shape for the expedition ... everyone was expected to increase their physical exercises.

Milly is shaken by the madness of the diary entries. Probably ergotism from the moldy bread and who knows what chemicals might have leached into the water from the volcanic activity. There's also the coincidence(?) of the name of the woman loved by both of the brothers Yasakev: "Irina Chaikovskaya." The same name as the little epigrapher.

Milly moves the furniture back and goes through another Tai Chi Chuan set, energized by its controlled movement and breath discipline. Still, she puts in a call to the Planck Apotheke where she has a pharmacist "friend" who will provide some amphetamines in a prescription bottle. She'll just take them along in case she needs a quick boost, but she won't overuse them, of course. "Jager" agrees to messenger them to her room.

Then she puts in a call to Daniel Carter to let him know she was unable to come to the cameraman interview because she was doing research. She also mentions that she met Natasha Chaikovskaya and read the diary in translation. When will they be ready to discuss the expedition plans?

On the telephone to Carter's office: "I'm sorry, but Carter's unable to come to the phone for the moment. I'm his temp assistant for today and having looked over this appointment book, it appears he has an expedition meeting for the various expedition members for a Saturday brunch ... that'd be in two days time? Oh, do forgive me. I'm Miss Chiang. I'll be sure to have him put a call back through to you as soon as he is able. Is there anything else?"

Milly thanks Miss Chiang and rings off. She composes herself for a brief nap.

When she awakes at 4:00 pm, she goes down to the hotel's fitness center and works on the treadmill as long as she can. Then she has a massage. She returns to her room for a shower and orders a small steak and salad for dinner with a bottle of good wine.

She falls asleep in front of Intolerable Cruelty on the media center. She awakes just after midnight and goes to bed.

The credits of Intolerable Cruelty are just starting to scroll up the wide television flat-screen when Milly is awoken by the sound of her telephone shattering the silence.

Milly starts awake. After a moment, she realizes where she is and answers her phone.

"Milly here. who's calling please?"

"H-Hello? Milly? It's ... it's ... Gemma," says a familiar female voice, trembling with fear and choked back tears. Gemma is a friend from Milly's old social circle when she had first moved to Berlin. Her crazy antics had soon exceeded even Milly's lustful manner - to the extent of getting a 24/7 slave and regularly attending the various sex clubs of Berlin. "P-please, y-you've got to help me. It's Angela ... she ... she's dead!"

"Wait...what? Gemma. Gemma! Slow down, liebling. Slowly now. Angela dead? How? What happened? Where are you? Are you safe?"

Milly's head clears quickly, as she swings into rescue mode.

"Oh, Gemma dear, how awful. Have you called the police? You really should let them handle this. Is the man with you still? I mean the man you brought home?"

"I will call the police but I mean..." She sounds really choked up.

"Is anyone there with you, Gemma? What do you want me to do?" Milly tries to keep the tiredness and irritation out of her voice. She's good at that.

"Gemma?" Milly is starting to grow concerned about the lack of response. "Gemma, darling, are you there? Are you alright?!"

"Oh dear God," mutters Milly, "Gemma, I'm on my way. I'll be there quickly as I can. Go downstairs to the lobby and wait for me there. I can't stand a scandal just now, sweetling, so do as I say."

Listening for Gemma's reply, she dials down to the desk and requests a cab.

At this time of night, a cab is more difficult than usual to get. Milly does know the way to bus and tram her way to Gemma's.

Milly keeps her mobile phone open until she's sure Gemma has rung off. Awkwardly pulling on a pair of boots and grabbing a leather jacket from the wardrobe, she's thankful that she hadn't been in bed when Gemma called.

Milly goes to the front desk to inquire about her cab. Then she goes outside and asks the doorman to please help her, as she has to get to a sick friend right away. While waiting for a car, she considers just calling the police anonymously and letting Gemma take her chances. But the little fool had been precious to her at one time.

An empty taxi cab starts coming by that she signals furiously. The taxi cab stops and the driver smiles at her through the window with a look of joy in his face. Someone pretty, someone who wasn't drunk, someone who... "Milly? Milly LeCrique, Science Geek? Boy, am I amazed I ran into you. Like, really, wow." The taxi driver grins at her like a kid on prom night seeing his prom date for the first time in formalwear.

Milly returns his smile at full wattage and pulls open the back door.

"Thanks so much for stopping," she says breathily, "We're on an errand of mercy tonight. I have to retrieve a sick friend."

She gives him the address of Gemma's flat.

The taxi driver heads off at a decent clip. "Mission of mercy, eh? You really are somethin', you know that. And there my friend was claiming all celebrities were self-righteous and stuck up. I knew you were different. I says to him, I do, there's a girl who's intelligent and nice. She's just got a nice face. She wouldn't be up herself."

"Well, now you can tell your friend that some celebrities are just like other people. Sometimes."

Milly let's a couple of blocks go by in silence.

"My friend is supposed to be in the lobby. But if I have to go up to get her, I'd like you to wait. I'll make it woth your while, of course, over and above the fare."

"Uh, miss, I got a wife and kids at home," he says, seeming genuinely hurt and a little confused as he drives off down the road. "Oh, you mean money... Sorry, I just had this girl in the car before ... drunk as ... the things she would say she would do to me if I drove her out to this town in the countryside ... terrible."

"That's okay," says Milly. As they ride, she begins taking deep, rhythmic breaths to calm and center herself.

The taxi cab pulls up outside the foot of a very short flight of steps that lead up to a set of yellow doors, the yellow paint peeling off in little scraps. Other than that, it looks like the usual city apartment building. A gentle rain falls outside the building, causing the pavement to glisten below the nearby street lights. Milly has the key to the foyer door.

Milly hands the driver an amount just slightly over the fare.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," she says, "I'll pay double the fare for our return to the Adlon. Thanks so much for helping."

Key in hand, she hurries up the front steps and unlocks the door to the foyer.

The carpet is a faded diamond-pattern, scuffed to threads near the doors and directly before the elevator that sits on the opposing side. There's also a stair case that heads up, the steps far too narrow, the wooden banister splintered. She starts for the stairs. Once Milly gets halfway across the room she becomes aware of footsteps running down the stairs. The individual is still a couple flights up but at the rate s/he is running, it won't take them very long at all to reach the lobby.

<ooc - I take it there is no elevator? What floor is Gemma's?>

Milly glances around the lobby, irritated that Gemma is not waiting here as instructed. Why should I have to climb the bloody stairs? Milly stops in the middle of the lobby, pulls her mobile out of her purse and punches "re-dial" to call Gemma.

Hearing someone coming down in a big hurry -- it doesn't sound like Gemma's foot steps -- Milly clears the path from stair to front door and keeps her syes on the bottom of the flight.

She spies a fellow come running down the stairs, his hips clicking and moving with a bizarre, almost-robotic gait. The thick shoulder-length dreads hanging on either side of his down-turned face swing in time with his steps, barely hiding the full lips that twist as though he were speaking to himself. Milly catches a glimpse of the man's nakedness beneath the open coat, the glaring scars, his body slick with sweat, his erect genetalia gleaming with the same clear, slickness. Even in the heat of the moment, however, she sees the knife ... a gleaming scalpel cleaned of blood.

On the third ring, Gemma answers. "Hello?"

At the sound of Gemma's voice, the man halts with supernatural swiftness. At one moment, he is complete motion, the next, he seems so still, his ragged breathing forcing his body to sway. He cocks his head to one side, as though listening.

OOC - There is an elevator.

Milly, shocked speechless, clicks the phone closed and drops it in her purse, snapping it shut. She clasps the heavy leather bag in both hands, backing toward the elevator.

Her body has automatically slipped into a combat posture, thanks to her years of martial arts training. Her breathing is regular and steady. Her eyes never leave the man, her feet barely lift and never cross one another as she glides back toward the wall. Her knees are slightly flexed and the bag is held in front of her to deflect any sudden attack.

When her heel grazes the elevator door, Milly angles her body so that her left side is toward the man, the bag held like a shield, her weight on her right leg. Her right hand searches for the elevator button pad. When it is located, she presses the up button.

<ooc - great choice of background music!>

The man pauses, nostrils flaring as though taking in her scent, his skin tightening against the muscles of his chest as she regards him. A chill runs down her spine, invading her skin, stealing the warmth from her. Whispers flutter about her with no origin point, seeming to spontaneously emanate from the very air that surrounds her. "Will you love me? Will you guide me? Will you be mine?"

As the door slides open behind her, Milly edges back until her right foot is in the car, She gathers all her energy and puts all of her will and force into a fierce but controlled voice:

"No. I...will...not. Begone!"

The man rushes towards her even as the doors slide slowly closed, the scalpel pulling back, a glint of steel. With a sharp intake of breath she sees the instant in which she must strike, shoving him back before he can interfere with the closing doors. If he manages to put out a hand, the doors will start sliding open again before finally starting to close again.

With both hands, Milly punches 1d100 → [15] = (15) Punch = 55%; Martial Arts = 23% the leather bag at the scalpel-wielding hand, striving to drive through his strike and into his face.

http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/1791321/

Milly manages to repel the fellow who reels back from the blow, his nose now sporting twin trails of blood that gush down his chin and trickle onto the carpet beneath. He swings his head back and forth like an animal, uttering a low snarl, but before he can rush again the elevator doors safely close and the elevator begins its slow pace up.

Milly presses the button for the next floor. When the car stops, she holds the "Open Door" button and listens for the sound of his feet pounding on the stairs.

<ooc -- What floor is Gemma's?>

The elevator stops at the third floor. She peers down a long corridor with a single flickering neon light. The others have given up the ghost long ago. The wallpaper here is aged a sickly yellow from what was probably an ugly light brown. The carpet seems a bit soggy, as though a multitude of wet people have walked down this corridor. Gemma's apartment is no. 04. She can hear no feet on the stairs.

After glancing up and down the corridor, Milly steps out of the elevator.

She goes slowly and quietly along the soggy carpet toward Gemma's well-remembered door, moving in a fighting stance -- back to the wall, left foot always ahead, left arm slightly raised as a guard. Her bag (heavy with the weight of the book she bought at the museum) swings from its strap clenched in her right hand. With each step she spares a glance over her right shoulder at the hall behind her. Finally, she arrives at Gemma's door and listens for a moment to hear any sound of commotion within. She reaches across left-handed to ring the bell <or knock if there isn't a bell> and then takes a half-step back.

Milly realizes that part of the reason her heart is racing has nothing to do with fear; but anticipation at seeing Gemma.

Damn it.

"Well, I hardly think our murderer forgot something and has the manners to knock first! Tell your idjit to open the door! I'm fookin' bleedin' to death here!" a man roars in English from inside the flat, his voice quite audible through the thin walls.

There's the sound of locks turning and chains being slipped off, and the door is opened to reveal her 'toy'. A quiet-spoken German lad who Gemma had met at a BDSM club and enslaved several months ago. He has a leash trailing down from his spiked collar and is a tall man. His chestnut brown hair is short and styled. He is wearing a form fitted t-shirt, red in color, and incredibly short matching pants.

OOC: Milly left this thread to join a Combined Milly LeCrique and Magnus Urquhart thread and has now returned.

The door swings shut with an eerie finality. The dead bolt clatters into place like the last nail in a coffin. It is only as she takes several steps back from the door and glances around instinctively that it hits her. She is alone. No, not alone. Not far from her, barely three meters if she discounted the wall, was the body of a woman she barely knew. The corpse locked in a final moment of agony.

Milly is abandoned by the friend who called for help. Abandoned so suddenly it didn't even make sense. One moment there, the next ... vanished. Inexplicably drawn away, wordlessly, soundlessly, in as much time as it took to say those few words to Magnus. And now Milly, locked in a seedy apartment of nicotine-stained wallpaper and tacky furniture, dishes piled up over the sink, the sound of Sway in the background like some grotesque mockery of romance... Television star and documentarian, Milly LeCrique, alone in a seedy apartment, a den of vice, with multiple sex toys, possible drugs, and the brutally mutilated corpse of a young woman.

All that protected her from the man she had seen, was a dead bolt, weak wooden door and the cheap promise of police protection in only a few short minutes. Her skills were one thing, but she had been taught during martial arts training to never discount a knife. It wasn't like the movies. The knifer almost always won.

Yet how could she leave that poor woman alone in the apartment, not to mention a contaminated crime scene, like this? Her evidence was everywhere. Not to the extent of Magnus, whose blood decorated the couch in splotches, but doubtless enough to pinpoint her existence here.

Milly curses Gemma under her breath and checks the time again, wishing the police would hurry up.

Going into the kitchenette, Milly finds the broom (reflecting that it looks like something a witch could ride to sabbat). She unscrews the wooden handle from the plastic head. Then she pulls one of the dinette chairs away from the scummy table and sits down with the broomstick across her lap, her bag resting on the floor beside her.

She wishes she had a friend she could call, just for company while she waits.

The song 'Sway' ends one final time and stops playing. An eerie silence fills the apartment. Time creeps slowly past.

She is startled a few minutes later by a firm, well-applied knocking at the door.

An involuntary sob of relief escapes Milly before she crosses, broomstick in hand, to the door. She peers through the peephole to see who is knocking.

She can see two men in Landespolizei uniforms standing just outside the door.

Milly leans her broomstick against the wall and unlocks the door. She steps well back as she opens it, allowing entry to the police officers.

"I'm glad you've come," she says in carefully uninflected German, "There's a young woman in the bedroom who is apparently dead. Did you find an injured man in the lobby?"

"No, ma'am," asked one Landespolizei, heading through the flat to the bedroom.

"Are you the owner of this apartment?" asked the other.

The first Landespolizei opens the bedroom door and takes a step back. He then looks at Milly.

"You didn't see him? He is wounded, a knife in his shoulder, bleeding considerably. He said he was going down to the lobby just a few minutes ago... he may have passed out in the elevator. We must find him!"

She starts for the door, stopping when the officer moves to block her, his question hanging unanswered.

"Me? No, this is the apartment of an old friend, someone I haven't seen for a while, she called me, saying she and two men had found... the injured woman in the next room -- her flatmate, I believe. Gemma was distressed and begged me to come over. I arrived just a few minutes ago and called for police and an ambulance. Is my taxi still downstairs?

"A strange man attacked me in the lobby, he was naked under a long coat and had a scalpel, I fought him off and came here. My friend was here, but in the confusion she and the other man slipped away... somehow..."

Milly realizes she is close to babbling and stops the flow of words. She takes a deep, centering breath.

"You really should look for the injured man."

One of the men nods and heads out down the hall. The other opens the bedroom door. A pair of paramedics exit the elevator and come walking down the corridor in a hurry, glancing down at the many blood stains left behind by Magnus. "An injured man has apparently left this apartment, please go downstairs and check," says the Landespolizei exiting the bedroom. "I'm sorry, ma'am, the lady in that room is dead." He pulls out his note book. "Please, can you start from the beginning?"

"I feared that she was," says Milly, "May I sit down? And could I have a cigarette, please?"

Milly returns to the dinette chair she was previously using and waits while a policeman lights her cigarette. She crosses her legs and proceeds to give a complete and truthful account of the events that brought her to the apartment and what happened in the lobby and what she saw in these rooms. She is careful to indicate that she has had no connection to Gemma for many months without belaboring the point.

"Was my taxi still waiting downstairs? I was worried that the man that attacked me might have threatened the driver."

"There was no taxi, ma'am," says the Landespolizei, once he finishes writing it down. "Would you be able to identify the perpetrator were you to see him again?"

"I believe I would." Milly gives the best description she can in terms of features, height, build, complexion, scars, etc. She mentions the leather coat and dreadlocks and the fact that he was naked (with an erection) under his long leather coat. And she mentions the scalpel.

"I struck him in the face with my bag and bloodied his nose, so you might get some DNA evidence by the elevator in the lobby. The injured man said he had struck him in the face, I believe. His name is Magnus Urqahart -- the injured man -- Scots, I think. He might have taken my taxi to hospital, mightn't he? He had a knife protruding from his shoulder."

The Landezpolizie nods. "We'll check the hospitals, ma'am. Did Magnus explain why he was leaving? Or what his connection to the deceased or to the two tenants were?"

"He said he was tired of waiting for help. I think he met Gemma and her friend -- I've been introduced to him, but I don't recall his name -- and came back here with them to... uhm... socialize. Then they found the injured -- dead -- woman and were attacked by the intruder. I think it was Gemma's friend who accidentally stabbed Magnus in the scuffle.

"Here's my card. That's my number at the studio and that's my mobile number. I'm a longtime resident at the Adlon Kempinski. I'd like to go home now. I'm all in."

"Thank you," says the landespolizei, accepting the card. "I can understand that you're tired but do you have any means of contacting either of the three people you mentioned?"

The other fellow busily talks in a low voice into his radio.

"Dammit!" exclaims Milly, "I'm such a dope. Here, yes, Gemma's number is right here in my received call file."

She flips open her phone and displays Gemma's number for the officer to copy, then hits "send."

"I'm afraid I don't know any way to contact the two men," she says as she waits for Gemma to answer, "As I say, I don't really know them.

"Come on, Gemma, pick up," she murmurs as the ring continues.

Someone at the other end picks up but the voice sounds very far away, as though the signal were faint and kept dropping in and out. "Milly ... no ... I know what you ... just don't try to ... just listening ... it can hear ... go home. Just ... home ... a room ... don't listen to them ... in the clubs ... I'm sorry ... hour passed ... tell ... sorry."

Milly clicks the phone shut. She feels like all the warmth has drained from her body and knows she must look pale. She shivers.

"I'm not sure the call went through, officer, the connection kept fading, but it sounded like Gemma's voice. I don't know."

She bows her head and fumbles the phone into her bag after letting the policeman copy down the number.

"Anyway, you have her number and I've told you all I know. I'd appreciate you calling me a cab so I can go... home."

Milly is struck by the thought that she has no home and no one to make a home with and...

She won't let herself weep in front of these men.

"I understand," says one of the police officers. He makes the call and tells her it will take ten minutes for the taxi to arrive.

"Thank you so much," Milly says, "Is it possible someone could wait with me in the lobby? I'd really like to get away from this flat."

"Of course," said the officer who had been talking to her. He heads down to the lobby with her until her taxi arrives - which is about the same time as the kriminalpolizei (detectives) and crime scene technicians arrived. Then he sees her safely into the taxi.

"Where to?" asks the taxi driver.

"Take me to..." Milly hesitates, remembering Gemma's warning on the phone not to mention where she was going. "Cafe Lebensart, please."

When they reach the cafe, Milly pays off the taxi and steps inside. To the maitre d' she indicates that she is looking for Herr Magnus's party. Assured that there is no guest there by that name, she makes the excuse that she must have misunderstood the location. She has a pretend conversation on her mobile, smiles at the maitre d' and leaves the restaurant. She crosses the Wilhelmstrasse to the Hotel Adlon-Kempinski and goes up to her room.

She security locks her door, leaves a wake-up call for 7:00 a.m., showers and goes to bed. She doesn't take an Ambien.

She awakens Friday morning after a dreamless sleep.

Milly orders eggs and kippers and coffee from room service and meditates until it arrives. After eating, she goes down to the hotel gym to work out and feels really good by the time she gets back to her room. There's a discreet knock and she opens the door to find nothing there except a sealed envelope. Inside she knows are her amphetamines and she wonders who "Jaeger's" courier might be.

She showers and dresses for a relaxed day. Then she calls Daniel Carter's office. "Is it Miss Chiang?" she asks the voice that answers, "Milly LeCrique here. Would you please email me a list of tonight's guests? I want to make sure I recognize everyone I'm supposed to. Do you know if Miss Chaikovskaya will be present?"

"She should be there, yes," says Miss Chiang.

The list that she is emailed includes:

Timothy Wells.
Francesca Morletti.
Alexander Lozynsky.
Nicolai Lebedev.
Arnold Crawford.
Daniel Carter.

And a number of press agents and other important people.

Milly is overjoyed to see that Timothy Wells is on the list. She immediately dials his mobile number to arrange lunch today.

She spends the time before lunch Googling the others on the list.

Timothy answers the phone after a few seconds, his happiness to hear from Milly again evident over the line.

"Milly! Long time no talk, how are you? I hope the place you're staying at is better than mine . . . you'd think the production companies would think to provide for their employees, wouldn't you? Self-important bastards. I'm staying at some hole in the wall place, very 'economical' if you catch my drift. But where are my manners? I'm not letting you get a word in edgewise."

"Dear man, it is wonderful to hear your voice. You wouldn't believe how much I've missed you. There's not a single person worth talking to at Ophidian, I promise you. Meet me for lunch? Malzcafe in Veteranenstraße? And we'll get you a room there -- I'll take care of it until I can talk some sense into those dickheads in the finance office. And I had an experience last night that you must hear. Until noon then? Wiedersehen!"

Milly commences her research.

<ooc - her research should get her the character sheet info on the attendees?>

Timothy laughs at her mention of a night-time experience. "Am I sure I really want to hear about that experience, Milly? Anyway, I'll see you at Malzcafe, goodbye!"

He hangs up the phone.

Unfortunately, in her first hour, she can only seem to find web sites in Russian when she makes her search

"What the fuck?" mutters Milly.

She shifts the subjects of her search to George W. Bush and Madonna to see if it's some glitch on her connection. She also tries connecting directly to Wikipedia on her original subjects -- Timothy Wells, Francesca Morletti, Alexander Lozynsky, Nicolai Lebedev, Arnold Crawford, Daniel Carter -- to see if Google is the problem. She then tries switching from Firefox to IE.

She finds nothing on wikipedia on any of these men and women, though she does come across a web site that describes Daniel Carter as an excellent businessman who worked his way up from a lowly position as personal assistant when he charismatically and single-handedly defused a potential situation between the Ophidian media empire and several police officers who had been contending with Ophidian's rather anti-police stance and who had been planning to sue. She also finds that Aleksandra Romaschkova is a renowned archaeologist in Russia and that she has spear headed the Kamchatka Expedition and will be running the site inspection.

OOC: Whoops, forgot Mikhalkova and Aleksandra Romaschkova, two NPCs who would also be attending the gathering.

Milly finally gives up and emails Miss Chiang:

"please forward brief bio on the following persons befor tonight's meeting: Francesca Morletti, Alexander Lozynsky, Nicolai Lebedev, Arnold Crawford - thanks so much"

Then she gets ready to meet Timothy at Malzcafe, taking the time to be well turned out. When she's ready, she calls down to the front desk to have a cab ready.

The taxi arrives and takes her to the Malzcafe once she is refreshed and ready. The Malzcafe has a large array of chairs and tables set up before the large glass doors and windows. It is already filled with all manner of people who have come down for brunch though she spies an empty table for two. The aroma of delicious food fills the air, causing her stomach to grumble in anticipation. The sun is bright overhead though the weather forecast said it would be cloudy later on today.

Timothy creeps up behind her, calling out "Milly, is that you?" in a questioning tone once he is within her earshot

Milly whirls about, a bright and genuine smile beaming from her face. She jumps up and wraps Timothy in a tight embrace.

"Hallo, mate, am I glad to see you!"

Timothy returns the embrace enthusiastically, hoping that he had showered sufficiently.

"And I'm glad to see you! How've you been these past couple of months?"

He motions to the empty table for two. "C'mon, let's grab that one before it's taken."

When they are seated, Milly orders a mineral water and a salad.

"I've been alright. I've managed to break away from my 'low companions' and have been mostly sober these past few months. Work has been dismal -- no one I can pal around with like you, Tim. Last night was the strangest thing though.

"I'd fallen asleep in front of my tv -- I'm turning into such a spinster, it'll be cats next, I suppose -- when I got a call from Gemma. You remember Gemma, don't you? That weird little thing I was rather infatuated with last year? I hadn't heard from her in ages. So she wants me, begs me to come right over. She's found her roommate dead and doesn't want to call the police because of her stash. She's there with her 'toy' and another man and someone has attacked them as well.

"What could I do? So I grab a taxi and tear across town. I go into the lobby and some weirdo comes down the stairs before I can get into the elevator. He's naked under a long leather coat and carrying a scalpel And I swear I could hear a voice like an emanation from him, begging for love. I break for the elevator. He comes at me. I bash his face with my satchel and get the doors closed.

"I get to Gemma's floor and make it to her flat. There's a big Scotsman sitting on her sofa with a shiv in his neck, dripping blood. I call the police and ambulance straightaway. While I'm talking to him, Gemma and her 'toy' just disappear. I mean it, Tim, the front foor was locked and I find the dead girl and check the rest of the rooms, but Gemma's just... gone. So the Scotsman gets unpleasant -- as they are wont to do -- and then he leaves me alone in a strange flat with a dead girl. At least I watched him go down the hall.

"So the police get there and ask me a bunch of questions and I tell them all I know. I try to call Gemma and the connection is crap, but I can hear her say don't talk, it is listening and not to listen in the clubs just go home. And she says that she's sorry.' Then I take a taxi to a cafe near my hotel and wait until he's gone before I walk across. Weird, innit?"

Timothy orders a coke and a sandwich. He tries to conceal a grimace at the mention of Gemma's name.

"Shit, are you sure you're okay? I mean, that guy didn't get you at all? You were lucky. I always thought of Berlin as safe, but I guess it has it's fair share of fuck-ups. From what I know about Gemma she seems the type to make a runner. Maybe she wanted to pin blame on you, who knows."

He leans back for a moment, tapping on the table with his right index finger.

"You say you could hear an 'emanation' from that guy, and he wanted love? No offence Milly, but are you sure you were completely in your right mind? I mean, hearing psychic voices from murderers isn't the most normal of things. Maybe it was the shock? Anyway, when Gemma called again she was probably on some weird drug trip. I know from personal experience just how fucked up things can get if you make a bad mix."

Milly chuckles.

"I was in my right mind when I left my suite, Tim, beyond that I can't be sure. But we've both seen stranger things than that. About Gemma, I'm just not sure. She decidedly did not want to face the police and maybe that's all it was. She didn't seem unusually stoned when I saw her, but who knows. She didn't make much sense, but she rarely does.

"You know, I didn't even look this morning to see if any report had made it into the news."

Milly mops up the last of her salad dressing with her bread.

"Actually, yes, I have. I was at the Pergammon museum yesterday to check out the Kamchatka exhibit and one of my guides was Natasha Chaikovskaya, the one who translated those Liltian Tablets. She seemed rather socially inept, could hardly respond to the visitors' questions. Obviously bright though and," a smile plays around Milly's lips, "a rather attractive girl. I bought a couple of books about the Liltian Tablets and all, if you want to check them out.

"I've spent the morning trying to get some information online about the others, but couldn't even seem to find any official biographies or Wikipedia entries. I think that's odd, don't you? do you know anything about any of them?"

"That's exactly what I thought!" She roots in her bag and pulls out the list she made at her hotel. "See if any of these names mean anything to you. Aleksandra Romaschkova is the expedition leader, from the University of Moscow, Nikita Mikhalkov is the Russian government's advisor, an Italian helicopter pilot coming along, Fransesca Morletti, two Russian scientists, Alexander Lozynsky and Nikloai Lebedev, and Arnold Crawford, a seismologist, I don't know where he's from. And I told you about the Russian epigrapher, Natasha.

"Ring any bells?"

(OOC: sorry, Timothy's Know is 85, forgot to put that into the roller)

Timothy pauses for a moment to think.

"Actually, I have heard of some of those people . . ."

He continues:

". . . but the only one that I'm able to recall anything of interest about is that Natasha girl that you met at the museum. She's meant to be some kind of prodigy or something, the only one able to deal with those Liltian things. The weird thing is that for other people, the Tablets have the effect of non-replicability (if that's even a word)," Timothy laughs, "and yet Natasha is able to recall and redraw them from memory. At least, that's what I've heard.

She's meant to be an odd one, she is; how was she with you?"

"That sounds right. She was very... spaced out is the term I'd have to use. And she seemed... wounded, I'd have to say. And you know how keen my radar is for chicks like that." Milly chuckles. "I'd guess some sort of long-term abuse or unresolved trauma. It sounds cliche to say it, but she seemed haunted."

Milly signals the waiter and uses her American Express card for the meal, but leaves a generous tip in cash.

"Okay, let's get you a room here and then, if you're doing the exhibit before dinner, you'd better get to it. Keep an eye out for our girl Natasha. I'm going back to my hotel to study up and grab a nap. Then I'll pretty-up before the dinner. Can I pick you up here?"

"Sure, I'll see you then. Won't take much to pretty you up though!" Timothy smiles and goes to try and get a room, planning on heading to the museum afterward to check out the Liltian Tablets.

Milly gives Tim a hug and a sisterly kiss and gets into the taxi.

Back in her room she rests and looks over the materials she got from the museum, while waiting until time to leave for the dinner.

OOC: Timothy, return to your thread.

Sitting, she goes over the museum shop items. A plastic version of a Liltian tablet whose symbols are crude and bear little resemblance to the photograph that sits on the back of the tall, colourful hard-copy book with KAMCHATKA written on the back. The hard-cover book seems to be a kid's book. It describes in very little detail the various creepy findings: thick cloud cover obscures the mountain from satellite feed; it has been off-limits through several changes of government since a failed expedition in 1786; the writing has only been translated by one woman; the language cannot be replicated by hand, only by machines, as people always remember it wrong; the tablets state that there is a city up there somewhere; the tablets were all found in rather haunted locations.

The much smaller paperback appears to have been a translation of the Kamchatka diaries. A series of other odds and ends that may be part of the same set of merchandise include a key chain; a ruler; several tablet stickers; and a post card.

Prop 6 gained.

Milly Googles the translator of the diary, Mark Kailer.

She's using the post card as a bookmark - what does it look like?

The post card contains a picturesque photograph of the mountain that appears to have been taken from another mountain. The clouds above that particular one do not appear particularly thick.

There is a web-site for Mark Kailer, in German, that gives a brief bio of works he has done (including the Kamchatka Diary and several religious works), and details on the languages he is good at (Russian, German, English, Hebrew, Latin). It also has his contact details.

Milly emails Kailer (if his addy is provided, otherwise she writes him a brief note - is he located in Berlin?). She tells him of her interest in his book and the mountain and the Liltian Tablets as they connect with it. She mentions that it is a under consideration as possible destination for a documentary programme.

Then she showers and gets ready for the dinner.

Just before she leaves (assuming that she emailed), she checks to see if Kailer responded.

Email Response from Kailer:

Oh really? Wow. That's cool. Will you be needing me for an interview? I'm happy for that.

Kailer.

Milly saves him to her contacts list. Then she calls downstairs for a car to take her to the meeting.

The car arrives quickly, but checking the time, she sees its not yet time for that meeting. Perhaps if she went to collect Timothy Wells first, checked in to see what he was doing, and then had the driver take them to the gathering together? That would certainly kill some time.

Milly makes a quick call to Timothy's mobile to see if he's back at his room at the Malzcafe.

She makes the call to Timothy's mobile phone and as she does so she hears the music that reminds her of Gemma's phone coming from a disheveled man in a heavy coat who is walking past. There is a click as though a phone were being answered on the other end, followed by a near silence containing barely audible sounds that you can't quite make out. You check your phone after a couple seconds to make sure you sent it to the right number. The phone says he's Engaged. You put it to your ear again. The Engaged sounds aren't occurring. Just a near silence. You have full bars and plenty of battery...

Standing on the sidewalk in front of the Adlon, Milly breaks the connection and hurries into the waiting car, keeping a wary eye on the dishevelled man. She gives the driver the Malzcafe address and tries to calm her jangled nerves.

When they are nearer the Malzcafe, she tries Timothy's number again, not without some trepidation.

It goes straight to MessageBank.

Milly leaves a message: "Timothy, let me know when you get back to your hotel, I'll be waiting in the lobby bar."

Arriving at Malzcafe, she lets the driver go, figuring they can get a taxi easily enough here. She takes a spot at the bar off the lobby where she can watch for Timothy and orders a vodka stinger.

The phone rings. Checking her phone, she sees it's from her friend. Gemma.

Feeling a bit queasy, Milly opens her phone, but doesn't say anything.

The sounds that come from the phone sound like hell itself.

The sound leaves her shaken. She could almost swear she heard Gemma's voice amongst the screams, pleading for help, begging, screaming, calling for her, and promising to see her again, promising that if Milly doesn't free her, Gemma would come back and take her to hell itself.

Milly slaps her phone shut and drops it on the bar. Downing the rest of her drink in a gulp, she signals to the barman for another. As she downs it, tears roll down her cheeks, but she stops herself from sobbing openly.

Where in he-- Where is Tim?

The barman seems confused by her sudden change in demeanor and hurriedly puts a cup down. Vodka and coke. A good preparation for the Russian trip. The sounds of hell still echo in her mind. She finds it hard to shut it out. The German music that plays softly in the background cannot hope to drown out the terrible sounds. She doesn't think a Rammstein concert could drown that out. When she finished the next drink, another comes sliding down the bar towards her. Looks like a gin and tonic, a slice of lemon sitting perched on top. Looking across, she sees a grim-looking young man in a hoody staring down at the paper towel folded up on the counter in front of him.
OOC: That was meant to be 0/1d4 not 0/1d6. Since you got a maximum hit,we'll presume it was 4, not 6, okay?

<ooc - 4 is good>

Milly pushes the empity Vodka stinger glass toward the barman and asks for another. She sets the unwanted gin-and-tonic to the side and looks for some pretzels or peanuts.

She doesn't look at the young man in the hoody.

The man in the hoody starts idly writing something on the folded up napkin. He seems to be making a point of avoiding looking her way as well.
Another man enters and comes right up to her, sitting down next to her. "Hiya sweetheart," he says with a wink, before turning to the barman. "I'll have a martini, and she'll have another of whatever she's having."

Milly tenses, then lets her kendo discipline take over. She takes her glass in both hands and shifts slightly away from the man beside her, keeping the man in the hoody in her peripheral vision.

"No thanks," she says, loudly enough for the barman to hear her, "I'm meeting someone shortly."

<ooc - which side is the man on and how far away is the hoody? also, I'm assuming this is a respectable sort of place, not a dive>

It is a respectable sort of place. The guy with the hoody seems to be quiet and unassuming and can kind of blend in despite his odd attire. He is about four feet away - the glass slide was quite a feat. The other man does not fit in at all. He looks like he belongs in a dive. He leans in beside her and she can smell his breath. "Really? Who?"

The bartender ignores his order of a drink for you and makes a drink simply for the man.

"Hey, I said one for her, too."

Milly continues to ignore the fellow.

"C'mon, talk to me," says the irritating man. "C'mon... You're a pretty lady, let's go do something ... nice...."

The man in the hoody gets up slowly from his chair, settles his baseball cap on his head, and turns to go.

Without looking at the man, Milly says in her iciest tone (just loudly enough for the barman to hear): "If you don't stop annoying me right now, I will ask the barman to call a police officer. Go away."

"Aww, what the fuck?" he snarls, turns and heads out.

Milly waits for a long moment, listening intently for the fellow's possible return. Then she lets her pent-up breath slowly escape. She drains the remains of her drink and pushes the empty glass across the bar.

"Give me a ginger ale over ice in a highball glass with three cherries," she says in a voice that warns him not to smirk. She takes the concoction to a corner booth where she can watch the lobby, but no one can approach without her seeing.

A gulp of the sweet drink floods her with comfort and memories of being treated "like a grown-up" at cocktail parties before her parents' relationship began to founder when she was about twelve.

Where the hell is Tim?

She gets a text message from Tim.

Milly texts back: Come by Malz to pick me up?

The man in the hoody orders another drink, throws it back, and starts playing with a set of rosary beads.

<ooc - I thought he had left: "The man in the hoody gets up slowly from his chair, settles his baseball cap on his head, and turns to go." I guess he just went to the men's room. >

Milly keeps an eye on the guy as she texts back: "keep me in loop."

She reaches into her bag and uncaps a Bic pen, holding it on the seat beside her in her right fist, point up.

ooc - he turned to leave but never actually left.

The man in the hoody stands there and throws back the drink.

Milly keeps an eye on the guy, the pen in her right hand, her phone in her left.

The man then does turn and leave, zipping up his hoody. Her phone hits her back with a text message.

"see you there" Milly texts back. Then she walks out of the bar and across to the front desk (her pen clutched in her fist at her side).

At the desk, she asks the clerk to call her a cab. She waits at the desk until it arrives.

The taxi cab soon arrives.

Seeing the taxi through the front doors, Milly walks briskly out and gets into the vehicle. She doesn't give the address until the taxi door is closed and the driver is pulling away from the curb.

"Yeah, yeah," says the taxi driver, mistaking her irritation as being directed at him. He drives along in silence, no chatty driver speak for her.

Laraqua wrote: no chatty driver speak for her.

<ooc - Yay!!>

Milly sits back in a corner of the cab. She reviews the last couple of days' events, trying to make sense of all of it. Or any of it.

Milly can make some sense of the previous few days though not in any way that should make sense. Her old friends disappeared inside a hotel room without any noise, as though they weren't there at all, bringing to mind images of old ghost stories she had once heard. But that didn't make sense in and of itself, as that Scottish fellow seemed to have been brought home by her friend. Had they kissed? How do you kiss a ghost? Also, if she'd died, surely Milly would have heard about it... But the phone calls, the disappearance, it didn't seem quite natural. Perhaps it wasn't a ghost. Perhaps something was going on there but that was hard to believe. Her show studied such strange occurrences all the time, though, surely there should be some techniques or people there who could figure it out?

Then there were the kidnappings. She had no idea what that was about.

As she ponders, Milly lets Berlin wash past the taxi, waiting until it arrives at Ophidian.

It soon does, pulling into the taxi rank just before the giant building, where two other women are climbing out of a cab. She recognizes Natasha Chaikovskaya, from the museum, as one of them.

If you want to go speak to them,please join [b]Francesca Morletti's[/b] thread.

Milly hurriedly pays off the taxi and walks quickly toward Natasha.

<ooc- I will begin posting in the other thread. Do you want to introduce me without identification first?> I intend to say (in Russian): Miss Chaikovskaya, who is this woman?">

You may now, enter the thread.