Play@YSDC

There was light and sound. There was pain and misery. There was movement, a giant surge, a leap, coiling and springing, then settling and more pain. The point of contact was yards ago. The world keeps spinning. Light and sound. Screams. Wails. Light and sound. All about it falls. How did it come? Sound and fury. Something cackles, crackles, screeching overhead. A giant whump. All around, his vision starts to clear. His ears ring. He can't hear. Everything dull and light.

Roll Luck. On a success, take 1d4 damage and find yourself in a surviving doorway, surrounded by rubble. On a failure, take 1d8+1 damage and find yourself pinned beneath the rubble.

Lionel finds himself buried under a pile of rubble, his body and mind in agony. His injuries were bad, but they could have been much worse. Feverishly, he tries to dig himself out. "Help!" he manages, weakly.

A fellow appears in the smoke and dust, holding a handkerchief to his lips as he clambers across the rubble and body parts. It's hard to make him out in the gloom particularly when he shines his shuttered torch across the way. "Wait 'ere, mate, and I'll go get us some 'un."

"Thank you, sir!" calls Lionel, finding his voice again. "I'm a doctor! I can treat my own injuries as well as help anyone else who's hurt." He tries to reach the medical kit strapped to his thigh so he can treat his wounds and stop the bleeding. What's going on here? he thinks, collecting himself. One second we were in the cinemaplex, and the next...I must have gone back in time somehow. Could whatever happened have torn asunder the very fabric of space and time? Did the others come back with me, or am I alone? Already he is formulating plans. Very, very long range plans. Perhaps there's a way to return to my own time, but with the world in the state it's in now...My God, I've just been given a golden opportunity! If I can discover what caused that disaster and find a way to prevent it, I can make sure it never happens! If I can lay the groundwork first, then I could return to the present if there's a way. If there isn't, I'll have to live out my life in the past. I'd have to be pushing 130 to make it back to my time that way, and I'll be lucky to make it to 90. That means...I'll never see Sarah again...but perhaps I can survive until she's born...at least I know she's safe...

Tears flow down Lionel's cheeks, but then he comes to a realization. I can change other things that will happen over the next 65 years or so, avert so many tragedies, both global and personal! My parents are alive, right now, each fighting the war in their own way! In a few years, my younger self will be born. I can pass the torch to him eventually, so he can carry on when I've lived out my years. And Beatrice! She'll be born a few years after I am, and with the knowledge I have I can save her! My heart won't be broken, and Sarah won't have to grow up without a mother. I can prevent Lyle from ever meeting Sarah and spare her all the agony she endured. That would save his life too, even though he doesn't deserve it. And maybe, just maybe, I can save the entire world from its terrible fate.

I remember! I remember everything! All the world events of my lifetime, the key to changing history for the better. And the outcomes of major sporting events! If I'm to succeed at this quest of a lifetime, I'll need to amass wealth and resources. Gray's Sports Almanac. Heh. He recalls the innocuous seeming book of facts from Back to the Future, Part II that had set all of history on its ear. I also know what to invest in, and when. Yes, I can do this! I can reshape the world into one that's safe for Sarah to live in. I must write all this down when I get the chance. First, though, first I have to stay alive...

"Yeah, I found a messenger boy to go get some," says the warden, braving the rubble with a tea cup in his hand as incendiary bombs fizzled and fell from the sky. Several hung from their parachutes from the trees and one came perilously close to the rubble. The warden fell once, bruising his knee, but got up cheerfully and kept ambling over, wincing once or twice when a bomb fell close by.

"Ooh, that don't look too good. You a doctor from the Mercy Cross?" he asks, taking a seat next to Lionel. He notices the first aid pack and its distinctive red cross. "Ooh yes. Y'mind?" He passes Lionel the tea cup, pressing a canvas bag filled with something heavy (history roll) beneath Lionel's head to lift him up a bit. He then takes out the bag. "Bit unusual, eh? Fancy a smoke? Cigarette? Cigar? Never liked 'em myself but I keep 'em on hand for folks like you."

[OOC: Wow! I'm on one of my lucky rolling streaks!]



"I don't smoke either," says Lionel, "but that tea would hit the spot! Thank you. Yes, I'm from Mercy Cross. The name's Lionel Carpenter." Stick to the truth as much as possible, he thinks, accepting the tea and sipping it. That way I don't have to keep a million lies straight. There's something familiar about that bag, something my father once told me. I'm glad I still have that paramedic's kit. It was top of the line in the 21st century, and now it's well ahead of its time. My mobile phone won't work with no cell towers, but the technology it contains is priceless.

Lionel opens up the medical kit and expertly bandages his wounds. "Physician, heal thyself, eh? I think it looks worse than it is. Most of the damage seems to be from shock. Scalp wounds also tend to bleed even when they're superficial, as this one is. Yep, good as new! Now, if I can get out from under this rubble, we can see if there's anyone else nearby who needs my help."

The warden's gas mask containing canvas bag makes for an uncomfortable pillow.



"Is this the fellow?" asks a blonde woman (another History roll to recognise her as from the Women's Volunteer Services - basically, they dabble in everything). She clambers across the rubble with little more grace than the warden and does it all twice as bravely. "Hello, doctor ... it is doctor, isn't it? You're mighty good with that odd first aid kit. I'm Anna. I know it's not the done thing to use first names but I'm a firm believer in the camraderie caused by being familiar, particularly when one is buried in rubble. Now, let's get you out of there."

The two begin shifting various pieces of masonry away until they get to the pick one. With the handy use of a nearby beam and a great deal of obvious expertise, the two manage to leverage it away from him.



"Guess that makes me Daniel," says the other fellow, then winces a little. Lionel will probably recall that Daniel was a Jewish name and anti-semitism did rage strong.



"How do you do," says Anna to the two of them.

Anna's uniform looks vaguely familiar, but Lionel can't quite place it. "I'm doing very well now, thank you," he says. "And thank you for your compliments. Pleased to meet you both, Anna and Daniel. I'm Dr. Lionel Carpenter." He climbs to his feet, dusts himself off, and extends his hand. "All I've got are flesh wounds, but there could be others trapped in this rubble who are seriously injured. We should search for them."

"Yes..." says Daniel, looking about at the body parts strewn through the rubble. "Hello?" He flashes his hooded flashlight across the ruins.



Anna also searches about.

Normally, the black-out would be too absolute to search for survivors without a flashlight but the brilliant light of the incendiaries kept them busy. Several men wearing Fire Guard arm bands hurried to put a few of the incendiaries inside a pub beside the cinema. The hospital across the road seemed mostly unscathed.

[OOC: Lucky streak's over. Rats!]



Lionel follows along with Anna and Daniel, searching the ruined buildings for any sign of survivors. I wonder if Jennifer and the others are here too? he thinks. Oddly enough, they'd be safer here than in our own time. He peers around, using the light of the incendiaries, but his eyesight isn't what it used to be. "Hello!" he calls out. "Is anyone injured?" He knows, however, that anyone who's unconscious would not be able to respond.

The three search for what feels like hours but was probably only about twenty minutes. The Fire Guard join in for a few moments before more incendiary bombs see their sandmats, dustbin lids, rakes and stirrup pumps back into action.

So far, no survivors could be seen amongst the wreckage.

"We've got to keep looking," says Lionel. "If there's any chance someone's still alive, we can't give up." With the increased light from the new incendiaries, his eagle eyes finally noticed something.

He sees, buried in plaster, Jennifer's ruined body, torn asunder. Her weapons lie about her - easy pickings for any who might plunder it. In a shard of glass by her head, Lionel sees a glimpse of some canine face, monstrous and twisted, torn by broken angles and cascading lines (lose 1d3 / 1d20 sanity ).

Lionel cries out in alarm, but keeps his head together. The sight of that hound is terrifying, but he is only mildly shocked. "Jennifer!" he shouts, kneeling beside her mangled body and kicking the offending shard of glass under some rubble so that nobody else has to look at it. He struggles to hold back his tears. "Oh, no! She was so young..." He picks up her weapons, which are well out of their time. "I'd best hold onto these until I can locate your next of kin. If we leave them lying out on the street they'll just get stolen." He puts on her backpack, slings the sniper rifle over his shoulder and straps her belt on. It holds the .45 pistol in its holster, two extra magazines in a pouch, the machete and the tazer in their sheaths, and the two-way radio and canteen. He also finds the extra magazines in her pockets and puts them inside the backpack. I can't risk these things falling into the wrong hands, he thinks. If history is going to change, it has to be through careful planning, not random accidents. They don't belong here, but then again neither do I. He closes Jennifer's eyes and stands up. "Poor girl. We need to see to it that she gets a decent burial."

"Wait, a rifle," Daniel frowns, grasping hold of it before Lionel can sling it. Opposed Strength check (his is 14) to wrench it away. "Is it foreign? Is that what it is? You'd better tell me before I blow this whistle!"



"Blow the whistle!" Anna darts for the handgun.

"It does look foreign, now that you mention it," says Lionel, letting Daniel take hold of the rifle. "Maybe it's one of those newfangled American things. In any case, it belonged to the dead girl. I only met her this evening, but I owe it to her to see that her family gets her belongings."

Now that Daniel had the gun, he looked at a loss for what to do with it. "Yes, erm, I see... But the Americans aren't really... I mean, how would she get a hold of it?" He looks sidelong at Anna. "German spy?" He nodded to himself. "Sure to be. But she's got odd clothing herself. Some sort of German waitor spy..."

[OOC: Lionel didn't just kick the glass aside, he kicked it underneath the rubble to cover it up so that nobody could see it, even him.]



"A German spy?" asks Lionel. "Well, that doesn't make any sense at all! If she were a German spy, she wouldn't wear outlandish clothes. She would wear normal clothes, the better to blend in with everyone else. And she would have been sure to carry British weapons, not foreign ones. And while German spies would carry pistols, they wouldn't tote rifles around unless they were masquerading as soldiers or something, and she certainly doesn't look the part. No, if I had to hazard a guess, I'd say it's far more likely she was one of ours, or perhaps a Yank." He looks around. "Say, it's probably not safe to stand out here chatting when more bombs could fall any minute. Why don't we get to a shelter, and then we can sort this all out there?"

He slings the rifle over his shoulder with a certain amount of grace. "Well, uh, yes, uh, there's a shelter just around the corner there. One of them trench shelters, I'm afraid, concreted over, though, but pretty darn wet and miserable. Best get you out of the air, though. I'll, uh, I got to find someone to report this too... The A.R.P. Post will know what to do! Yes, uh, Anna, would you like to accompany me?"

"Why don't I go with you two?" asks Lionel. "I must admit that I'm curious to see how this all turns out myself, and my injuries aren't that serious. Besides, I do enjoy your company."

Daniel merely nods. The warden's post isn't all that far away. The three dodge rubble and hissing incendiary bombs in their haste to get into shelter.



The Warden's Post is cramped with two female wardens with ear phones on busily speaking into a telephone and frantically working at a switchboard. Orders are belted here and there as news is passed on, relayed, reformed and passed along again.

I'm the one who found Jennifer and her arsenal from the future, thinks Lionel as he walks to the warden's post with the others. I'm going to be asked all sorts of awkward questions I don't have the answers for. I think I'd rather take a chance with Daniel and Anna. "Say," says Lionel to the other two. "I have a theory about the origin of the girl and her odd possessions. It might sound improbable, but nothing else makes sense, and as the great Sherlock Holmes said: when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. Tell me, have either of you read H. G. Wells?"

Daniel tries in vain to get one of the girls' attention but is brushed aside in their efficiency. It is impressive watching the two work, not so much as flinching as bombs blew up all around them.



"Do go on," says Anna. "I am endlessly fascinated by H.G. Wells. Isn't a friend of your people, Daniel?"



Daniel seems pained. "Perhaps we shouldn't deal in first names. Second names are familiar and much more the done thing. My second name is Scott."

Lionel steers the conversation back on track, both to take some of the pressure off of Daniel and to further guide him and Anna in the direction he's heading. "I absolutely adore Wells, ma'am," says Lionel. "He is one of my favorite authors, a genius of the first order, and perhaps even a prophet. My favorite novel of his is The Time Machine. I read it frequently, and it got me thinking: is time travel possible? While we certainly lack the means in this day and age, surely in the future humanity could devise a way to do it. If so, then would not some of these people from the future be present at important times in history to observe the goings on? Times like ours, for instance." He lowers his voice. "Maybe this girl comes from the future. It would explain everything: her odd clothing, and her even odder weapons. A time traveler would of course carry weapons for personal protection, especially in time of war. But in spite of her knowledge of the future, she could not possibly anticipate where every single bomb would fall."

"I think he needs another cup of tea," says Anna, whispering in Daniel's ear.

Daniel just nodded.

"Look, sir," says Anna. "Perhaps you should take a seat in that corner over there. Air raid should be done with soon. They can't drop all their bombs down here. After that we'll take you to the hospital." She admires the rifle Daniel's holding. "That is a nice rifle, though."

"Well, it was just a theory," says Lionel with a shrug. "Still, would have been fascinating if it were true. That is quite a rifle, indeed. I'd imagine rifles in the future would be much like rifles today only much improved in every way, but no matter how fancy it is, it doesn't constitute proof. No, I suppose the only thing that could prove something like that would be some piece of technology that simply couldn't exist in this day and age." If I let that rifle out of my sight, thinks Lionel, I'll never see it again. Got to take a chance here. In for a penny, in for a pound. He looks down at Jennifer's belt. "Hmm. Well, this is certainly odd." He unhooks her mobile phone from the belt and makes a show of inspecting it. "We were so intrigued by the rifle that we didn't notice this little wonder. What do you suppose it could be? To me it looks like a telephone, only look how small it is, and no wires! Why, it could fit in your pocket. There's also no dial, but there are several tiny buttons." He activates the phone. "And they light up, too! But how? No light bulb could possibly fit inside. And see, it's got a miniature torch." He demonstrates its use. "There's also a tiny display up top, with the words 'NO CARRIER' written there." He presses the 1 button, and the digit appears in the display. "Amazing! When I press one of these buttons, the number appears in the display." When Daniel and Anna are watching, he presses the buttons 2 through 9 in turn to demonstrate how the numbers show up as he does. "This tiny gadget must have some impressive electronic components. It's much too small to contain even a single vacuum tube, but it would take thousands of them to make something this sophisticated work." He pauses for effect. "You don't think...?"

The telephonists look over and notice the mobile phone and for a moment they are distracted but they are professional women and go back to doing their duty.



"You don't think the Germans could possibly have anything like... No, it has to be some sort of gadget designed to inspire fear. To make us think they are far more powerful than they are."

OOC: Remember its music, calcular, SMS, games etc. functions. There's a lot to it. Take a look at Jennifer's kit in NPC list to see just what she had.

[OOC: Thanks, I was already drooling over the list last night. ]



"This looks far too complex for anything the Krauts could come up with," says Lionel. "Or the Yanks, for that matter. Anyway, all the text is in English. Hmm...I wonder what else this clever gadget can do?" He presses a button, which clears the display. He presses 1, and the number appears in the display. Then he presses the + button and the 2 button, and the number 2 appears, replacing the number 1. At last he presses the = button, and the number 3 appears. "I didn't press the 3 button. Perhaps...it added the two numbers? Well, there's one way to find out." This time he adds the numbers 1234 and 4321, producing the total 5555. "Yes, that's correct. But how can it calculate sums so quickly?" Then he tries multiplying 37 by 33, producing 1221. He pauses to verify the result in his mind. "Correct again." He turns the cell phone around in his hand so that the built-in digital camera points at his face, then takes a picture. His face appears on the little screen, and when he turns it around again and sees his face there he blinks in feigned surprise. "My word! It's a camera, too?" He takes another picture, this time of Daniel and Anna, and shows it to them. "Incredible! It can do so much, and yet it's so small. Is there anything it can't do?" He presses the menu button, and various options appear on the screen. He points at one of them. "Games, eh? That sounds like jolly good fun." By using the keypad, he selects the option and activates it, and a scrollable list of games appears. "What odd sounding games. Sid Meier's Civilization III? Let's see what that is. Must be American, since they spell it with a Zed and not an S." He starts the game, and the introductory movie plays on the screen, showing the construction of a massive tower that gradually progresses from ancient times, through the Middle Ages, the industrial era, and then the modern age. Then it fades and the main menu appears on the screen with various options. "Absolutely fascinating."

Daniel tries to snatch it away. "This, uh, we'd better, uh... Who'd we better get this to? Downing Street? Should we try and get it to Downing Street?"

Lionel holds onto the phone. "Downing Street?" he says. "I seriously doubt they'd let us inside, and if this originates where I think it does, even our best boffins wouldn't be able to make another one." He selects Credits from the main menu, and a list of names of people who worked on the game scrolls up the screen while music plays softly. "Perhaps my theory wasn't so far-fetched after all. If this is indeed from the future, we need to proceed very carefully. You don't really think Jennifer came back in time all by herself, do you? It stands to reason that a young girl would not travel back to a dangerous time alone and unchaperoned, no matter how heavily armed she may have been. No, there must be another...visitor. Maybe even more than one. And they'll be looking for her." He points at the screen when a copyright notice scrolls by. "Look there: the copyright symbol, and the year 2001. Great Scott, it really is true! The 21st century..." He looks at Anna and Daniel. "If there are others like our girl, we could perhaps identify them by their unusual garb, and they would most likely be carrying gadgets just like this one, don't you think?"

Anna takes three steps back and raises her gun to point at Lionel's chest. "Oh, I see what you're trying to get at. Saying you're her chaperone! Well what do you suggest we do about this?"

"Easy there, ma'am," says Lionel, raising his hands slowly. "I assure you, I mean you no harm. I do have a suggestion, as a matter of fact. Before I make it: do you believe, as I do, that Jennifer is indeed from a future time?"

"I believe you think you are."

"I never said that," says Lionel. "We were talking about Jennifer. Do you believe she is from another time, or do you perhaps have an alternative explanation for her?"

"Didn't you say it? I thought you did. Look, what do you think should be done then, huh?"

"I think we need to look for Jennifer's companions," says Lionel, "and quickly. With every minute that passes, our chances of finding them decrease. If we wait here too long or take the time to try to find someone in authority and convince them, they may disappear forever. If they are searching for her, they would be somewhere near where we found her body: perhaps among the dead, perhaps taken to a nearby shelter, or perhaps they were wounded and taken to the hospital. Now that we know what to look for, we should be able to pick them out. If we do find them alive...I suggest we speak with the utmost diplomacy. Pointing guns at them could end badly for all concerned. These people haven't actually done anything as far as we know."

"I'm getting the feeling that he's telling the truth about the others," says Daniel. "Look, you keep the gun on him. I'll, er, empty out his pockets. Then when we got everything together, we go looking for these other people of his."

Lionel looks outraged and indignant. "Empty his pockets?!" he repeats. "When have I ever treated either of you with anything but dignity and respect? We're all on the same side here. I'm an upstanding citizen, and a doctor, yet you treat me like a common criminal!" He looks to Anna, speaking in a lighthearted tone. "If you don't mind, would you please aim that pistol somewhere else? I've been injured enough already today, don't you think?"

"A doctor and an upstanding citizen," says Anna, her eyes widening. "Oh, of course, and with your accent, you're from the good people of the West End, right?"

"Ma'am, I was born and raised in London," says Lionel. "Both of you have seen my, if I may be so bold, not inconsiderable medical skills for yourselves. We are wasting precious time arguing. Just think what Jennifer could have told us if she had survived. Her friends could be bleeding to death as we speak."

"Then co-operate, if you have nothing to hide you have nothing to fear," says Anna. She nods at Daniel who comes forward. "Now stand quite still, doctor."

"We are wasting time we may not have," says Lionel, "but I can see there is no convincing you. Very well, if it will make you happy, go right ahead and search."

Daniel removes Lionel's mobile phone, vodka bottle and wallet. He sets the vodka bottle down, brandishes the mobile phone as though it explained everything, and then set about examining the wallet. "Dates mention 2005... Odd..." He removes a credit card and waves it in the air. "Odd type of card, this." He removes some of the dollar notes and coins. "Twenty pounds?! Is this a real twenty pound note or is it counterfeit? I can't tell. It's more money than I've ever gotten my fingers on before." He turns to one of the telephonists. "Tell the police that we've got some sort of emergency situation here. A right German conspiracy! Tell them we're taking down one man and a veritable armoury to the Mercy Cross Hospital. Tell them to send us some soldiers or something at once!"

Daniel then turns, chest puffed out, the very pinnacle of an Air Raid Warden's self-righteous self-importance, and he motions with the rifle for Lionel to move outside the Warden's Post, just as the air raid sirens let loose one long, unwavering note (History roll).

Lionel complies with Daniel, raising his arms and walking where he's told. Was that siren sound the all clear? he thinks. I ought to know, but I can't be sure. Hope so, anyway.

"I don't believe this is a German conspiracy," says Lionel as he walks. "I truly believe Jennifer came from out of time. Haven't you wondered how I came up with my 'theory' or why I was so quick to believe it? Didn't it strike you as odd that I could figure out so quickly how to use that strange device? The simple fact is, she told me. I didn't believe her at first either, but she gave me those items as proof and demonstrated how that thing works. I was going to show them to you, but I had been afraid you would think they were mine. And once the young lady here held me at gunpoint, I knew you would react in a precipitous manner. Jennifer told me a number of incredible things before the air raid began."

There seems to be no further bombs falling from the sky though the firemen are still busy sucking water out of craters to put out the flames.



"Yeah, of course, of course," says Daniel. "Ain't my job to figure you our, doctor. We'll leave that up to the government. They'll believe you, for sure."

"I look forward to talking to them," says Lionel. "And I'm quite content to go to Mercy Cross. I had wanted to go there anyhow. If I might make a suggestion, I think we should turn that device off. It must run on a battery, albeit an astoundingly tiny one. If we leave it on, the battery will eventually run down and nobody will be able to use it. The button labeled 'PWR' is what turns it on and off; it's obviously short for 'power.' It acts as a toggle."

"Well, maybe later but I'm just not going to point this rifle down enough to do that, I mean... Yeah. Just keep walking!"

Lionel does as he's told. "I could turn it off for you," he suggests.

"Give us some peace, will ya?" Daniel asks with a sigh.

Several people who were coming out into the night from the hospital, pause to stare at the unlikely trio.

"I apologize," says Lionel. "Honestly, I don't know why you're so afraid of me. I'm an unarmed old man, and you've got guns. If that's what you want, I'll just very well shut up, then." He walks where he's told in silence.

A terrible scream can be heard from somewhere inside of the hospital, followed by yet another. Daniel looks stricken for a moment, swaying from side to side and nearly dropping the gun. He takes one look at Anna and bolts toward the hospital.

"Great Scott!" cries Lionel. He looks at Anna. "I think we ought to follow him."

Anna nods and breaks into a run, the handgun held pointed to the ground.

Lionel follows Anna as fast as he can, which at his age isn't very fast at all. He keeps his hand near the tazer hanging from Jennifer's belt, just in case.

Anna yanks open Mercy Cross' double doors and pulls out her flashlight. The lights had obviously been knocked out during the bombing. A large number of injured patients lie about on stretchers and benches ... wherever they might be placed. They look mostly confused.

Daniel stands in an almost predatory stance, turning his head this way and that, almost seeming to scent the breeze, listening, the rifle gripped tightly in both hands, more as though it were a club than a firearm.

Lionel remains silent and listens too, but he can't quite make out any sounds. If only I were a younger man, he thinks. His hunter's instincts kick in, and he looks around for the trace of anyone's - or anything's - passage. Unfortunately, he can detect nothing aside from the usual hospital traffic.

"Something ... is no longer here," he murmured, swaying a little. "They are no longer here." He looks about apologetically, then his grip tensed on the rifle and he whirled on Lionel, raising the rifle high.

[OOC: Ack! Why do I keep rolling 83s? Considering the relevance of Connie Willis, you'd think I'd at least be getting 58s instead!]



Lionel puts his hands up again, but he's ready to dive aside if it looks like Daniel is going to pull the trigger. "Daniel, please get a hold of yourself, man! I have no idea what happened here, but you must realize that I am not responsible for it. I've been with the two of you all this time. I'm not the enemy. Besides, I have important information for the Government, and I can't bloody well tell them if you murder me, now can I?" He didn't seem to be getting through to the fellow, but he hoped that at least Anna would listen to reason.

Daniel shudders, confused, then turns and bolts toward the stairs that lead down to the Ground Floor.

"Poor fellow seems rather shellshocked," says Lionel to Anna. "We'd best follow him."

Enter Brianna and Ronald's thread.

+1 to First Aid, History & Fast Talk given to Lionel.