# chapters

path: 1112312221221221211111222111121211122211111122111111111121
author_id: imaj
title: A Simple Assignment
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>“Please sit down ladies,” states Hyde-White, gesturing at the seats opposite him.  He doesn’t wait for you, sitting down himself first before you or Maira can take a seat.<br/>
<br/>
Professor Hyde-White’s office is on one of the upper floors at Wyndham College.  Like most of the university, Wyndham is a old medieval building covered in all manner of turrets and gothic decoration.  The office is a poky little room in one of the upper floors and backs into one of the turrets, giving an odd shape to the office.  The furniture is suitably old fashioned too.  The desk is heavy varnished and with an inlaid leather top.  All the chairs are leather too, and the walls are lined with overstuffed bookcases.<br/>
<br/>
You ease you into the seat.  Maira does the same beside you.  Hyde-White doesn’t say anything for a while.  He just reads a report, pausing only to make the odd thoughtful sounding sigh.  “Two weeks in,” he says, finally setting the report aside.  “How are you finding it?”<br/>
<br/>
“Hard work,” you admit.  Maira nods.<br/>
<br/>
“Of course it is,” replies Hyde-White offhandedly.  “I never pretended it would be anything but.  That said, I am pleased with both your progress.”<br/>
<br/>
You and Maira share a glance.  It doesn’t feel as if your progress has been good.  Especially since you started working with Madame Duplantier.  “Um…” says Maira, doing a passable attempt at being like the real you under the mask.  “Madame Duplantier doesn’t seem to think so.”<br/>
<br/>
“Quite,” replies Hyde-White.  “Nonetheless, <i>I </i>am satisfied with your progress.  Satisfied enough, indeed, to give you both a simple assignment.”  He opens a desk drawer and pulls out a manila folder.  Hyde-White throws it onto the desk, black and white photos scatter out of it.  “This little group has been attracting our attention for a while.  They aren’t a threat, of course, but would be a challenging exercise for you both.  Simply set things up for us to capture all of them, or as near all of them as makes no difference.  Your thoughts?”<br/>
<br/>
You sift through the photos, one of which immediately attracts you attention.  You pick it up and examine it more closely.  “Is this the girl you keep running into Maira,” you ask, handing her the photo.  You know the answer full well.<br/>
<br/>
She takes the picture from you and makes a show of examining it.  “Aye,” she replies.  “She stopped to talk to me on the street yesterday.  She’s a wee bit ditzy.”<br/>
<br/>
“Now that is interesting,” interrupts Hyde-White.  “Did she say anything of note?”  Maira shakes her head.<br/>
<br/>
“Who are these people,” you ask as you continue sifting through the pictures.  You recognise one of them as the young man that you saw at Kings Cross Station last weekend.<br/>
<br/>
“Fane is a complex organisation, of many parts.  This I have explained to you both already,” states Hyde-White.  “However, there are some parts of our family that, shall I say less than circumspect in their dealings.  Oft times they do not properly take care of the people they have worked with as they might.  Groups like this one inevitably spring up in their wake:  Embittered individuals who somehow feel that Fane is responsible for their misfortune.”<br/>
<br/>
“Are they interested in Maira,” you ask.<br/>
<br/>
“Possibly, possibly,” muses Hyde-White.  “I doubt anyone knows the truth of what we have planned for you, but perhaps this group sees Maira as an opportunity to infiltrate Fane.”  He laughs.  “I don’t know about you, but I find that quite amusing.”<br/>
<br/>
“So let them,” you say.  The words slip out, almost without thinking, pushed on by the ghost of Paige’s personality.<br/>
<br/>
“I do beg your pardon,” interrupts Hyde-White, frowning at you.<br/>
<br/>
“No, it makes perfect sense,” you insist.  “You let this…” you look at the name on the photo.   “Willow Jasper? Really?  Yeah, you let this Willow persuade Maira to feed them information.  They think they’ve got a double agent, but Maira’s still on our side,” you continue.  It all seems so straightforward now Paige’s thoughts have helped you conceive the plan.  From the look on Maira’s face, she sees it too.  “We can swap me in for Willow when the time is right, and we roll them up from the inside.”<br/>
<br/>
Hyde-White claps his hands together.  “Marvellous, absolutely marvellous.  How soon can we convince Ms Jasper of Ms Niazi’s intent to, hah, defect?”<br/>
<br/>
“She did give me her mobile number,” admits Maira.  “Said we should have a coffee sometime.”<br/>
<br/>
Hyde-White leans forward, resting his chin on his hand.  “I think a meeting on Saturday would give us adequate time to prepare.”  He waits a few moments, evidently waiting for something.  “Phone Ms Jasper now please Ms Niazi,” he sighs.<br/>
<br/>
Hyde-White leans back in his chair as Maira produces her cell phone.  You sit quietly as she taps at the screen.  “Hello, Willow,” says Maira after lifting the phone to her ear.  “Yeah, it’s Maira.  I wanted to take you up on that coffee.”  There is a pause, presumably as Willow talks on the other end.  You strain your ears but cannot pick up any of the conversation.  “Yeah, Saturday, if that’s ok.”  Another pause.  “Great.  Yeah, I know where it is.  Yeah I’ll see you then.”  Maira terminates the call and places her phone away.<br/>
<br/>
Hyde-White leans forward keenly and looks at Maira with interest.  “Well, Ms Niazi, pray tell us what you have arranged.”<br/>
<br/>
“Three in the afternoon, at that coffee shop opposite the college,” explains Maira.<br/>
<br/>
“The vulgar American one,” answers Hyde-White, sniffing.  “Very public.  How very cautious of her.  That does our task a little more difficult, but not outwith the bounds of possibility.”  He steeples his fingers.  “Very well, I shall make the arrangements and contact you both once everything is in place.”  He picks up his reports again and continues reading, abruptly ending the interview.<br/>
<br/>
You hesitate for a moment before deciding to pick up the folder containing all the pictures of the group Hyde-White has asked you to infiltrate.  He says nothing as you stuff the folder into your shoulder bag, so you assume it must be ok.  Maira leaves first, holding the door open for you to follow.<br/>
<br/>
Halfway down the twisting little staircase, she finally speaks up.  “So that’s your plan, is it,” she asks very quietly.  All trace of Maira’s native accent is gone, leaving you in now doubt that the real Paige is speaking as herself right now.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s your plan really,” you reply, dropping Paige’s character in turn.  “I worked it out with your thoughts.  You know that.”  She nods.  “And you still get credit for it.”<br/>
<br/>
“I suppose,” admits Maira.  She pauses for a second to let a crusty looking academic pass in the opposite direction.  “Oh, this is going to be <i>fun</i>,” she eventually continues, her eyes lighting up.  “I can’t wait.”<br/>
<br/>
The shadowy copy of Paige’s person inside you stirs.  It thoroughly agrees.  You guess that pretending to be each other hasn’t quite been enough for the real Paige.  A part of you agrees with her.  “I guess,” you reply as you both continue to walk through Wyndham college.  “We need to get moving though.  Madame Duplantier is expecting us.”<br/>
<br/>
Maira’s face falls again.  She hasn’t been doing very well with Madame Duplantier’s training at all.  “Yeah,” she replies hesitantly.  She stops walking for a second.  “Could we swap back,” she asks very quietly.<br/>
<br/>
“What?”<br/>
<br/>
“Could we swap back,” she repeats.  “So you would be Maira, pretending to join up with Willow and her friends and then I could be Willow when we catch her.”  She looks guiltily up and down the corridor, worried that she has been overheard.<br/>
<br/>
Maira looks at you with pleading eyes that Madame Duplantier might be impressed by.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11123122212212212111112221111212111222111111221111111111212
author_id: imaj
title: The Truth About Fane?
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span> Maira looks at you with wide pleading eyes.  You manage to resist her, even if it ends up being because you are drawing heavily on Paige’s own personality.  “It makes more sense if I’m Willow,” you say.  “I’m the better impersonator, right?”  Maira looks unhappy, but she nods.  “Whoever is going to be Willow needs to be perfect.  She’s one of them, and her friends will notice if there is something wrong.”<br/>
<br/>
“I suppose so,” replies Maira, her tone of voice indicating she is uncertain.  She doesn’t press it though.<br/>
<br/>
“This is still going to be amazing though,” you tell her, using Paige’s own enthusiasm.  You find yourself giving her a hug  “They are never going see us coming,” you gush.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
The van catches you by surprise.  It’s like something out of a movie:  On the outside it’s just a regular van belonging to a power company, but on the inside…<br/>
<br/>
Hyde-White is here, overseeing the operation.  Two black suited men sit at the banks of equipment that cover the inside.  Little red lights flicker and flash as they work.  Occasionally they say something to one and other in low, quick voices before pushing some buttons on the boards.<br/>
<br/>
Hyde-White bids you to sit on a stool beside him.  “Take this Ms Knotts,” he instructs you, handing over a small earpiece.<br/>
<br/>
You slot it into place on your ear and suddenly you can here Maira muttering.  “…can’t believe I’m doing this…”<br/>
<br/>
“Ms Niazi is already en route to her rendezvous,” explains Hyde-White.  “She has been wired for sound, of course, but we have no way of contacting her.  And, indeed, telling her to be quiet.  We are entirely in her hands for the moment,” he adds a touch reproachfully.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m sure she’ll manage,” you say.<br/>
<br/>
“I would not be risking either of you if I did not think this was so,” answers Hyde-White.  “That said, you cannot be sheltered indefinitely either.  This assignment should give me the measure of both of you.”  <br/>
<br/>
You gulp.  That sounds ominous.  “So what’s going to happen?”<br/>
<br/>
“Whilst Ms Jasper's group are hardly a threat, we find that informal organisations such as theirs tend to be cautious and paranoid as a rule.  I am assuming that one of her colleagues will be in place to support her, even if they are not immediately visible.  Ms Niazi will help us identify Ms Jasper’s support.  Once we have the opportunity to split them, we will make the switch.  From that point onwards both you and Ms Niazi will be working with only our indirect support."<br/>
<br/>
Hyde-White bangs the partition between the back of the van and the driver’s compartment twice.  There is a low rumbling beneath you as the engine starts up.  You feel the movements of the van as it drives off, with each turn pitching you gently in a different direction.  It isn’t really a problem, the driver is going slow enough that you can easily keep your balance without resorting to grabbing hold of anything.<br/>
<br/>
In any case, you are far more interested in listening to what’s happening through the earpiece.<br/>
<br/>
There isn’t much to start with.  Maira seemingly calms down and stops talking to herself.  For a few minutes there is no sound but the occasional rustling as she moves.  “You came,” you hear someone say through the earpiece.  The voice is high pitched, almost squeaky.  You recognise it as belonging to the girl with the dreadlocks, Willow Jasper.  Maira must have reached the coffee shop.<br/>
<br/>
One of the men in black suits flicks a dial on the controls and a monitor flickers into life.  It only shows a crack of light in the darkness to start with, but it slowly grows larger as Maira talks.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah,” says Maira.  “I just thought, well.  You didn’t seem totally full of shit.”  The crack displayed on the monitor opens a little.  It takes you a few seconds to realise that the vaguely shiny brown field you can see in the crack is the leather upholstery of a sofa<br/>
<br/>
“I’m really glad you came,” says Willow.  “I’ve wanted to talk to you since I first saw you,” she explains earnestly.  “There’s some things you really need to know.  Just don’t freak out, alright?”  The view from the monitor is now filled with a close up of a sofa and you suddenly realise where the camera must have been – inside of Maira’s bag.  “You’re on the biomedical program, aren’t you.  I saw you leaving one day,” adds Willow quickly, trying to explain herself.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah,” says Maira slowly. “What is this about…”<br/>
<br/>
“Have you noticed anything odd about it,” interrupts Willow.<br/>
<br/>
“Odd…”<br/>
<br/>
“Like weird, or unnatural,” explains Willow.  “Something you can’t explain, right?  Like <i>magical</i>.”<br/>
<br/>
Maira says nothing in reply.  The camera providing the feed to the monitor, whatever it is, reaches the top of the sofa, suddenly giving everyone inside the van a view of the entire coffee shop.<br/>
<br/>
“That’s her friends there,” you say pointing at the monitor.  You recognise the two men from the file Hyde-White gave you earlier in the week.  “Shaun Doyle and Vincent Lowell.”<br/>
<br/>
“Not unexpected,” replies Hyde-White.  “We will just have to wait for the opportunity to split Ms Jasper from her compatriots.”<br/>
<br/>
“What about the toilets,” you ask, drawing the idea directly from Paige’s persona.  “I mean, obviously, they can’t go in with her, right.  And I’d be able to dump Willow in a cubicle after making the swap.  You’d be able to pick her up from there, wouldn’t you?”<br/>
<br/>
Hyde-White rubs his chin with one hand.  “That could work,” he admits.  “Driver,” he continues, raising his voice.  “Take us round the back.”  You feel the van lurch into movement again.<br/>
<br/>
“The people behind the biomedical program,” you hear Willow say over the earpiece.  “I know this is going to sound unbelievable.  I didn’t believe it myself at first either…” she hesitates, as if unsure of herself.  “They aren’t good people.  Fane…” she spits the word out unhappily.<br/>
<br/>
“See if you can’t find plans for the building,” Hyde-White instructs one of the suited men.  He rolls to the opposite side of the van and another monitor flickers into life.<br/>
<br/>
“I…” says Maira hesitantly.  You have to admit that she is doing a good job of letting Willow do most of the talking.  “What do you mean,” she asks in a very quiet voice.<br/>
<br/>
“Not all demons look like demons,” says Willow quickly.  She lets out an odd half giggle.  “I know it’s crazy, right?  You don’t know me at all but here I am warning you about stuff you’ll never believe.”  The words come rapidly, with barely any break between them.  “But you know, don’t you?”<br/>
<br/>
“There,” says the black suited man in the silence that follows.  He points at the monitor he just turned on.  A blueprint like map of the coffee shop is there, with the toilets in the back of the building clearly marked.<br/>
<br/>
Maira finally responds to Willow’s question.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she stammers.  It’s a lie, anyone listening to her would see that instantly.  You wait to see if Willow will take the bait.<br/>
<br/>
“Fane,” says Willow.  “They’ll use you, then they’ll throw you away once they are done.  They’ve done it before.  If you’re lucky, you’ll be dead.  If you’re unlucky…”  he voice cracks and there are a few seconds of silence.  “Maybe you’ll end up like us…”<br/>
<br/>
Nobody speaks in the coffee shop for a few minutes.  In the van, Hyde-White gets up from his seat and fetches something from a locker at one side of the van.  He hands you a blank mask and a familiar looking metal tin.  You open it, and sure enough, a syringe full of a dark blue liquid is contained inside.  Willow, it seems, will not survive your impersonation of her.<br/>
<br/>
“I need time to think,” you hear Maira say through the earpiece.<br/>
<br/>
“That’s ok,” squeaks Willow.  “I need to use the restroom anyway.”  You watch the monitor as she leans on the table and stands up.<br/>
<br/>
You look at Hyde-White.  He nods back at you.  “Take Ms Knotts in,” he instructs one of the suited men.<br/>
<br/>
The suited man opens the back door of the van and steps out, with you following closely behind him.  The van is parked in a back alley, with a high brick wall  running on one side that encloses the back yards of all the shops.  “This one,” says the suited man nodding at a gate with faded and peeling green paint.  He gives the handle a sharp twist and yanks it open<br/>
<br/>
You look inside.  Most of the yard is taken up by a low and modern extension, leaving only some space for the cobbled surface of the yard.  Steam escapes from the extension through a couple of vents mounted high in the walls.  The windows are high up too, and you can’t see in.  The extension houses restrooms, according to the plans you saw in the van.<br/>
<br/>
The suited man bids you follow him over to a brightly painted green metal door at the back of the extension.  You don’t see how he prises it open, but by the time you reach the door, the suited man has pulled it aside enough for you to slip inside.<br/>
<br/>
A short corridor leads back inside the coffee shop, but you aren’t interested in that yet.  To the side, two doors lead inside the toilets.  You spot the back of Willow’s head enter one of them, the dreadlocks bouncing behind her.<br/>
<br/>
The restroom is more or less empty when you enter, only one of the two cubicles is occupied.  Presumably that’s Willow.  You grab a “Cleaning in Progress” sign from beside the door and drop it in the corridor outside to make sure you won’t be disturbed.  As you re-enter, you hear a flush from the cubicle.  All you need to do is wait for Willow to exit and make the switch.<br/>
<br/>
But you heard everything she said to Maira.  What if she’s telling the truth?  What if Fane are as bad as she makes out.  This could be your last chance to escape.</span></div></div>


path: 111231222122122121111122211112121112221111112211111111112121
author_id: imaj
title: Strip The Willow
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Maybe Willow is telling the truth.  It doesn’t matter, you made your choice when you killed the real Maira a couple of weeks ago.  Willow is just another obstacle to your progress in Fane.  One that you have the tools to remove easily, you realise as you glance at the mask that Hyde-White has given you.<br/>
<br/>
Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the cubicle door unlatching.  You press yourself against the wall and wait for Willow to emerge.  She leaves the cubicle, barely paying attention to her surroundings.  When she reaches the hand basins and washes her hands, she looks up and into the mirror.  Willow almost jumps as she spots your reflection, clearly startled.<br/>
<br/>
“I didn’t see you there,” she squeaks, spinning round.  “Hey, aren’t you…”<br/>
<br/>
She doesn’t finish her sentence.  You grin wolfishly as you lift the mask to her face, pushing it hard against her.  Her body simply slumps as the mask sinks inside her.  You catch her as she falls, propping her against the basins awkwardly.  It’s going to be an difficult switch, you decide.  Willow’s clothes aren’t so much of a problem as the numerous piercings that adorn her face.<br/>
<br/>
You start with her clothes though, slipping off the moccasins from her feet.  She’s barefoot underneath – no socks or tights.  Her feet are rough and her toenails are uneven, you note.  It seems in keeping for her.  Willow isn’t a conventional beauty.  She wears no make up, but there’s a certain earthiness about her that might spark someone’s interest.<br/>
<br/>
You move onto her pants next.  They are loose and flare out at the ankles.  As you slip them down, you see that she at least shaves her legs, for they are soft and smooth.  It’s not the only thing she shaves, for once you remove her plain cotton panties you see that there is not a trace of hair underneath them.  There is a small metal nub of a piecing though, and you remove it carefully and place it on the edge of the basin.<br/>
<br/>
The rest of her clothes follow swiftly:  The little bag slung over her shoulder, the embroidered waistcoat, the rough cotton blouse.  You put them all in a neat little pile atop one of the basins, taking care not to get them wet.  The mask pops out of her face shortly afterwards and you grab it before it rolls to the floor.  You don’t wait for her to stir before grabbing the syringe from the tin that Hyde-White gave you.<br/>
<br/>
It’s easier this time, somehow.  You know what to expect and hold her body in place against the basins as she spasms her  last.  The corners of your mouth quirk into an odd smile as Willow goes still.  Almost there now.<br/>
<br/>
You leave the remaining piercings on Willow’s face for the moment.  Instead you smear the sealant over the inside of the mask you’ve just created.  You loosen your own clothes before removing the mask of Paige from your face.  That leaves you a little dizzy, but you plunge straight ahead and put the mask of Willow in its place.<br/>
<br/>
It’s much easier to transfer Willow’s piercings directly to yourself now.  The little silver rings in her ears, the stud on her nose and the bar in her tongue.  Soon they adorn your own face.  Her clothes follow swiftly and within a handful of minutes you are staring at Willow Jasper in the restroom mirror.  A Willow Jasper completely indistinguishable from the one that walked in a little while ago.  <br/>
<br/>
You slide the mask of Paige into your shoulder bag alongside the little tin Hyde-White gave you.  It’s a risk, of course, but leaving the mask behind for Hyde-White to find is a risk too.  He doesn’t know about the swap you and Paige have pulled off for the last week.  You close the bag over and drag the other Willow’s body over to the cubicle.  The Fane men will pick it up when you’ve gone.<br/>
<br/>
One last thing to do before you return out to the front of the coffee shop.  Willow’s mind hangs around you, just within your grasp.  Mentally, you pull at the gossamer threads that make up her persona, letting them sink around you as you become Willow in mind as well as in body.  You shift your shoulders a little, hunching them forwards.  She was…  You are… absolutely terrified about what you are doing here.  Willow’s fear that Fane are about to appear out of nowhere and swoop down on you plays itself out in your mind, even as part of you wants to wryly smile about just how right she was.<br/>
<br/>
You dig into Willow’s memories as you walk to the door, the cause of her fear spilling out easily:  Her boyfriend, Paul.  Her ex-boyfriend really, he’s dead now.  At least, Willow hopes he’s dead now.  It was a couple of years when he got interested in what he insisted on calling ‘the dark arts’ and dragged Willow along with him.  It was harmless at first.  Nothing came of the so called spells he tried to cast.<br/>
<br/>
Then Fane got involved.  Willow never heard the name till afterwards, but suddenly Paul’s spells started to work.  With each success – each spell that Fane granted him - Paul’s mood only got darker and the spells he cast more ominous.  The last she saw of him, flames were licking at his feet as he stood over a crying five year old, a cruel knife in one hand.  Willow ran and ran until…<br/>
<br/>
“Willow, are ya alroight in there,” comes a voice through the door.  It’s Shaun.  He’s the one that found Willow after the fire took her boyfriend.  And the one who told her about Fane’s role in his fate.  A second hand wave of relief passes through you as your Willow-persona relaxes.<br/>
<br/>
Still, you pause before answering.  Madame DuPlantier’s teachings come back to you:  Few things can bend a man to a woman’s will than vulnerability and the desire to protect.  You carefully compose your face.  The wide eyed terror, the trembling lips, you make yourself a picture of helplessness before you open the restroom door.<br/>
<br/>
“Shaun,” you squeak.  Your voice is even higher pitched than is normal for Willow.<br/>
<br/>
He looks at you, eyes brimming with compassion and you know that you’ve snared him.  “It’s alroight Willow,” he says, giving you a gentle hug.  “Oi’m here.”<br/>
<br/>
You snuffle a little and force out a few tears.  “I’m…  Fane…  I’m scared Shaun.”<br/>
<br/>
He rubs at your back and you let yourself relax a little.  “Yor almost there Willow,” he tells you encouragingly.  “Ya’ve done a grand job.  If ya can just pursuade Maira to come with us, we’ll get ye out of here as quick as ye like.”<br/>
<br/>
You lean back a little, standing passively as Shaun wipes away a tear from your eye.  A little tremor courses through your lower body and…  You pause.  Does Willow have a thing for Shaun?  He’s got to be at least thirty…  Her memories seem frustratingly vague.  You file the thought away for future reference.  It might be useful later.<br/>
<br/>
“Thanks Shaun,” you squeak, smiling weakly at him.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s nothing lass,” he beams at you.  “Out ya go, Oi’ll be roight behind ya.”<br/>
<br/>
You put on brave face for Shaun, or rather, try to look like your putting on a brave face for Shaun.  He pats your shoulders and you turn and head back to the coffee shop.  Maira is where Willow left her, sitting in the sofa in the corner.  She smile’s brittlely at you, giving you a quick wave.  Of course, she won’t know that the swap has been made, but you’ll be able to rectify that shortly.  You sway past Vincent Lowell – Vince as you think of him now that you are Willow.  He’s gazing sulkily at Maira.  That explains her nervousness, you guess.<br/>
<br/>
“Sorry I took so long,” you titter as you sit on the sofa opposite.  You drum you left hand on the coffee table:  Ring finger twice, index finger twice, middle finger, little and back to index.  It’s a prearranged signal you set up earlier.  With your back in the way, Vince can’t see you doing it.<br/>
<br/>
You would have to be looking very closely at Maira to see her reaction.  Her eyes get maybe a fraction wider, then she looks at you right in the eyes.  You nod slightly.  She nods in return.  “Nae bother,” she replies.<br/>
<br/>
“Did you…”  you hesitate for a few moments, stumbling on the words because that’s what the real Willow would do.  The lurking fear at the back of Willow’s mind rises again. “Did you think about what I said?”<br/>
<br/>
Maira casts her eyes downwards.  She doesn’t speak for a few moments and you gaze lingers on her hand.  She taps quietly at the table:  Index finger first, then little finger, middle, index twice and ring twice.  It’s the countersign, and though you’d already acknowledged each other, you can help but grin.  After all, neither Shaun nor Vince can see your face from here.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1112312221221221211111222111121211122211111122111111111121211
author_id: imaj
title: The Sarf London Look
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>“Tell me more,” says Maira.<br/>
<br/>
The sense of relief radiating from the Willow persona in your head is overwhelming.  You let yourself relax as her tension evaporates.  After all, you still have to play the part for Shaun and Vince, and thinking of them…<br/>
<br/>
“Oh great,” you smile brightly.  “I’ve got some friends you need to meet.”  You turn round and wave Shaun and Vince over.  They approach your table, with Shaun sitting beside you and Vince positioning himself next to Maira.  He sits rigidly beside her, arms folded and glaring at you and Shaun.  It’s subtle, but he’s managed to place himself well enough to make it hard for Maira to get out of her seat.  If you’ve noticed it, you don’t doubt that Maira – Paige under that mask – has spotted it to.<br/>
<br/>
‘Maira’ knows better than show that though.  She grins nervously at the two new arrivals.  “Alroight there lass,” asks Shaun, his friendly voice and welcoming pose a sharp contrast to Vince’s aura of suspicion.  “Oi’m Shaun and my quoite friend here is Vince.”<br/>
<br/>
It’s enough to relax Maira.  She smiles weakly at Shaun, though keeps on ignoring Vince.  “Hey,” she says in a quiet voice.<br/>
<br/>
“Willow’s told ya a little about ourselves,” continues Shaun.  “About what ya are lettin’ yorself into with Fane.  Let me paint a picture though.”  Maira nods jerkily.  “Tell me Maira, have ya heard the story of Bellerophon…”<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
 “They put sumthink in ‘er,” mumbles Vince tersely.  His voice has a low rumbling quality that matches perfectly his gloomy demeanour.  He speaks slowly and thickly, as if each word is a work of effort.<br/>
<br/>
You listen earnestly, leaning forward on the old sofa you’ve sat on.  The upholstery is worn and faded, like everything else in the group’s Slough safehouse.  You arrived there this afternoon, bringing Maira with the rest of Willow’s group straight from Cambridge.  <br/>
<br/>
Your focus is entirely on the heavyset Londoner though.  Willow has heard his story dozens of time, but the raw power of it still moves her to tears every time.  His tale is the last the little group has presented to Maira.  Shaun spoke of his wife.  Jodie told of her experience with her friends.  You even spoke as Willow and relayed what happened to her boyfriend.  Each story revealed a little of their lives, broken in the wake of Fane’s activities.<br/>
<br/>
All pathetic…<br/>
<br/>
These people are the failures, the might-have-beens, the never-quite-weres.  Each of them is too weak and too useless to be part of Fane.  They aren’t like you, you’ve realised, though you dutifully play the part of Willow:  She believes profoundly and deeply in what she is doing here.  Maira seems rapt by the tales too, but you know that under that mask Paige must surely see these people for what they are.  <br/>
<br/>
“My sister,” he states, pausing for over a minute.  His face contorts in anger, rage and also grief.  “I could see it, growin’ under ‘er skin.”  He stops again and stares at the floor, choking back a sob.  “It took ‘er over, a monster inside ‘er.  She wasted away to nothink.”  Another pause, the longest yet.  “She forgot ‘erself, but sometimes she would remember.  Remember who she was and ‘er family.  It terrified her and I couldn’t do nothink to help ‘er.  I ‘ad to watch as ‘er skin turned to scales, as ‘er eyes turned huge and black.”<br/>
<br/>
Your lip trembles in perfect imitation of what Willow would do.  You know what happens next, and that the worst of the story is still to come.<br/>
<br/>
“There was this doctor that came to see ‘er,” explains Vince.  “German or sumthink.  Said ‘e could cure ‘er.  Ev’ry time ‘e came round ‘e’d give ‘er this injection…”  Vince’s voice trembles and he breaks down into tears.  Long, wrenching, sobs fill the room.  “It was ‘im.  ‘E was doing it to ‘er.  When we realised.  We had to get Caitlin away from ‘im…”  You find yourself wiping at your own eyes, so strong are Willow’s feelings.  “I remember it, drivin’ ‘cross London with a wet blanket wrapped round ‘er.  She was barely there anymore but she kept sayin’ it over and over again.  She didn’t want them to take ‘er.”  Vince sighs one last time and looks straight into Maira’s eyes.  “The last I saw of my sister was when she dived into the Thames that night.  I ‘ope she’s out there sumwhere, still free of Fane.”<br/>
<br/>
Nobody says anything.  The only sound is the ticking of a clock on the mantelpiece until Shaun finally breaks the silence.<br/>
<br/>
“That’s why were here Maira lass,” he states.  “We aren’t going to let it happen to ya.  We’re gonna make sure it never happens to anyone again.  If ya’ll help us that is.”  He flashes a wide grin at Maira.  Despite the bleak tone of the stories you’ve heard, his smile doesn’t seem out of place.  Shaun has a certain presence, one that binds this disparate group together.  Willow, you now know from her memories, almost idolizes him.<br/>
<br/>
Maira hesitates, her face written with what you assume to be well faked uncertainty.  “I’ll help,” she answers in a very quiet voice.<br/>
<br/>
Shaun’s smile, if anything gets warmer  “You won’t regret it Maira,” answers Shaun.<br/>
<br/>
<i>No</i>, you think, <i>but you might.</i><br/>
<br/>
“Willow,” continues Shaun, completely unaware of your thoughts.  “Take Maira up to the guest room.  We’ll continue tomorrow.”<br/>
<br/>
You slip off the sofa and to your feet, pacing across the old armchair where Maira has sat herself.  She looks at you nervously and you smile weakly in return.  Across the room Shaun has moved beside Vince and is hugging him.  Vince screams in his sleep, and so loudly that he sleeps outside in the van.  He’s never been drawn on exactly what Fane turned his sister into, but whenever he’s told the story to the group his night terrors have been the worse for it.  Still, let Shaun worry about that.  You reach down and help Maira to her feet.<br/>
<br/>
“This way,” you squeak.  You hook your arm round Maira’s and lead her gently from the room.  A narrow staircase leads upwards in the hall and you guide Maira up it.  The guest bedroom is at the last door on the upper floor.  The smell of unaired linen hits you as open the door.<br/>
<br/>
Maira opens her mouth to speak as soon as you close the door to the guest bedroom behind her, but you place your finger on her lips and shush her.  She looks at you questioningly and you nod your head in the direction of the bed.  With out saying anything, you kneel on the floor and look under the bed.  Maira follows you down.<br/>
<br/>
In the darkness of the room, you can only make out the blocky shape of the baby monitor that Shaun uses to keep an eye on his guests – The people he doesn’t fully trust yet.  The telltale flashing of the little red light informs you that it’s on.  You lean on the bed to help you back to your feet.<br/>
<br/>
<i>He’s listening to me</i>, mouths Maira.  You nod in reply.  <i>If they are watching me, you need to contact Hyde-White</i>, she adds before kissing you briefly on the lips.  You don’t let the kiss linger, you can’t afford to let it.<br/>
<br/>
“So, uh, this is like the spare room,” you say breathlessly for the benefit of the listeners on the other end of the baby monitor.  “I hope it’s ok.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s fine,” replies Maira.  “Really.”<br/>
<br/>
“Cool,” you say before pausing for a few moments.  “Uh…  I really hope you stay with us.”<br/>
<br/>
“You gave me a lot to think about,” she replies.  “I’m glad I came with you.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh that’s…  That’s really good,” you tell her, channelling Willow’s enthusiasm.  “Have a good night’s sleep.”<br/>
<br/>
You exchange one last hug before leaving and heading back downstairs.  When you reach the bottom, you see Shaun coming in the front door of the safehouse.<br/>
<br/>
“Is Vince going to be okay,” you ask with honest sounding concern.  Shaun must have been helping Vince out to the van.  He certainly seemed upset – more upset than usual – when relating his tale to Maira earlier.<br/>
<br/>
“He’s strong Willow,” replies Shaun.  “So what about our new girl.  Do you think she’s reliable?”<br/>
<br/>
The question catches you by surprise.  Shaun’s been so affable with Maira, it hadn’t occurred to you that he might not trust her.  You should have known, of course.  The baby monitor under the bed hinted at a paranoia that shouldn’t be at all surprising.  Not given what has happened to the members of the group.  But you do have one advantage:  Shaun might not trust Maira yet, but he trusts Willow.<br/>
<br/>
It’s a shame she’s lying dead back in Cambridge.<br/>
<br/>
“I think she’ll come round,” you reply, giving Shaun an authentically optimistic Willow-answer.  He smiles and nods in reply, leaving you momentarily weak at the knees.<br/>
<br/>
A thought occurs to you:  Shaun knows a lot more about the movements and organisation of this little group than Willow does.  Hyde white left you with a handful of memory bands in anticipation of just such a situation.  They’re still inside the little tin, stuffed within Willow’s bag, up the stairs in her room.  If you can get one on him and pass it back to Fane…<br/>
<br/>
Well then you’d be a good way towards rolling up this band of misfits just like you’ve been asked to.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11123122212212212111112221111212111222111111221111111111212111
author_id: imaj
title: The Luck of The Irish
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You half turn away from Shaun, as if heading back upstairs, but stop before you go any further.  “Shaun,” you say quietly, still facing away from him and looking at the floor.  “I’m sorry I lost it back in Cambridge.  I didn’t thank you properly for being there for me.”  You did, actually, but you’ve worked out that the easiest way to get mind band on Shaun is to get him alone and somewhere private.  And the easiest way to get him alone and somewhere private is to act on Willows feelings for the man, even though she’d never be brave enough to do it herself.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
“It’s alroight Willow,” replies Shaun.  You treble your lower lip the way Madame Duplantier taught you, effortlessly luring him in to give you a hug.  “Ya did grand.”  You rest your dreadlocked head on Shaun’s broad chest and wrap your hands round his back.  The linger low on the small of his back, just above his ass.<br/>
<br/>
Shaun is… was married.  The story he wove for Maira was of how Fane corrupted his wife.  Listening to it, it was clear just how deeply Shaun loved her, and just how broken the experience left him.  Willow’s memories tell you that she has never seen him with another woman.  He even still wears his wedding ring.<br/>
<br/>
It will be tough to seduce him.<br/>
<br/>
But at the same time it will be easy.  Madame Duplantier has already taught you much about getting a man (or woman) into bed.  That it’s been so long for Shaun, well that’s something that you can play on.  You let the hug linger for a fraction longer than should be comfortable before leaning back.  You don’t pull your arms away, but lean back and look up into his eyes.  Your lip trembles again and you let your eyes go wide, perfectly projecting a sense of vulnerability.<br/>
<br/>
Then you stand on your tip toes and kiss Shaun on the lips.<br/>
<br/>
It is a brief thing, barely more than a peck before you rest your feet firmly on the ground again.  Shaun’s body goes stiff, his face displaying uncertainty and confusion.  You stare into his eyes again, but just as he opens his mouth to say something, you break away from him.  <br/>
<br/>
A single step away is enough, you stop and without looking back muffle a sob.  “I’m sorry,” you squeak.  You pause for a second again, giving him just long enough to react.  As you make to walk away, run away even, you feel Shaun’s hand fall on your shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
“Willow,” he says, as you spin back round.  “Oi…  It’s just…”<br/>
<br/>
You don’t give him the chance to speak any further.  You practically throw yourself at Shaun and pull his head down to kiss him again.  This time the kiss is longer and slower.  You force your tongue into his mouth.  He is awkward at first.  Resistant.  But his body starts to betray him.  You can feel his pulse quickening.  Despite himself, Shaun starts kissing you back.  It takes him a few further seconds to gather his wits enough to pull back from you.<br/>
<br/>
“Willow,” he says sadly.  “We can’t do this.”<br/>
<br/>
“The hell we can’t” you yelp assertively.  It would be out of character for Willow but for the passion you inject into your voice.  In fact, the copy of Willow’s persona inside you is almost willing you on.  You can feel that she wants this badly.  There is a long pause.  Shaun doesn’t know how to respond to your sudden aggressiveness.  You let yourself calm, bringing the wide eyes and trembling lip to the fore again.  “I don’t want to be afraid anymore,” you say quietly.  A single tear rolls down the side of your face, right on cue.<br/>
<br/>
Neither you nor Shaun say a word for what seems like an age.  You both stand utterly still in the silence of the hall.  For a horrifying second, you worry that you have overplayed your hand.  Then Shaun leans down and kisses you, pushing his tongue inside your mouth with the ardour of parched man finding an oasis in the desert.<br/>
<br/>
When Shaun finally breaks the kiss, you take him by the hand and lead him upstairs to Willow’s room.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
You brush the loose strands of hair from Shaun’s forehead.  It’s a Willow affectation:  The sense of content from her personality, waking up with Shaun in her bed beside her, it’s strong.  She wants nothing more than to lie here beside Shaun while he still sleeps, and to be there when he wakes up.<br/>
<br/>
It will be a few minutes at least though.  The memory band you placed on his forehead just a few moments ago will keep him unconscious for a little while yet.  Shaun is…  well leader isn’t the word for it, the little group doesn’t really have one.  But he is one of the people they all look up to, and he knows far more about their plans than Willow does.  That’s why you’ve put the memory band on him, and that’s why you snatch it from his face and stuff it in the bottom of your handbag when it emerges.<br/>
<br/>
Now all you need to do is get it back to Hyde-White.<br/>
<br/>
That’s something for later though, right now you take you place beside Shaun in the bed again, leaning on one elbow, just so you can watch him wake up the way Willow would want to.  He stirs slowly, eyes flickering and a wry grin forming on his lips.<br/>
<br/>
“That’s quite the way to greet a feller in the mornin’,” Shaun tells you, still grinning.  You can’t help but grin back.<br/>
<br/>
“I just wanted to watch you waking up,” you squeak nervously.  Hardly surprising, as for all Willow has wanted this, part of her persona doesn’t believe it’s happening.<br/>
<br/>
“Well now you’ve got me, what ya want with me,” chuckles Shaun.<br/>
<br/>
You frown seriously.  “Breakfast?”  <br/>
<br/>
Shaun laughs at that.  “Oi’d love that,” he answers.  “Why don’t ya run downstairs and get something for us Willow lass.  Maybe check on the new girl too?”<br/>
<br/>
You nod enthusiastically and dart out the room, pausing only grab a robe and to turn round and smile at Shaun one last time before closing the bedroom door behind yourself.  Once outside, you momentarily let the mask of Willow’s personality slip from you.  It gives you a brief moment to consider your next steps.  Contacting Hyde-White, obviously, but it wouldn’t be a good idea to do it inside the group’s safe house.  You’ll need to come up with an excuse to get out.  By the time you reach the kitchen, Willow’s persona is firmly back in place.<br/>
<br/>
Vince is there, bent over the cooker and some pots and pans.  He looks up at you and scowls, instantly souring your appetite.  A pity, as the smell of the food you picked up as soon as you entered made your stomach growl.<br/>
<br/>
“What is it,” you ask plaintively, letting Willow’s feelings do the work for you.  Does he suspect something is wrong?  The file Hyde-White gave you when he asked you infiltrate this group had nothing to suggest that Vince Lowell had either especially keen or unusual senses.  You’ve been nothing but a perfect Willow since you replaced her in the coffee shop yesterday, so how could he suspect anything.<br/>
<br/>
“Changes,” he rumbles, without looking up.  “Don’t like ‘em.  Too many changes.”<br/>
<br/>
Just ordinary paranoia then.  Inwardly, you sigh in relief.  You don’t let anything show on your face though.<br/>
<br/>
“L-Leave off Vince,” stammers Jodie.  You hadn’t noticed her sitting at the kitchen table, but the pudgy little woman is easy to overlook.  She looks at you through her thick glasses and smiles nervously.  “I think it’s a good thing,” she adds quickly before her head drops and she starts staring at the table, unsure if she should have said anything at all.  “If that’s ok,” she says looking briefly back up at you.  You smile back at her and she relaxes visibly.<br/>
<br/>
“Can I have some breakfast,” you say, sidling up beside Vince.  If he was listening to what Jodie said, he shows no sign of it.  Instead he ladles a dollop of a quivering yellow-white mass onto a plate, before forking three slices of bacon on top of it.  Willow’s memories tell you that it will taste a lot better than it looks.  “Um…  For Shaun and Maira too?”<br/>
<br/>
Vince freezes, almost imperceptibly, for a second.  You barely notice it yourself, but you’ve become a lot better at reading people since you first found the <i>Libra</i>. Madame Duplantier’s training has helped too.  He looks unhappy – more unhappy than usual, as Willow’s memories inform you. You should probably find some why to mollify him, and as your eyes fall on the pile of discarded egg cartons by the cooker a way to solve this and another problem occurs to you.<br/>
<br/>
“Thanks Vince,” you say as he unhappily dishes out another couple of servings.  “Are we ok for food?  I could go and get some more if you want, after I have breakfast.”  From Willow’s memories you know there is a supermarket fifteen minutes walk from the safehouse.  That would get you out of the house for long enough to contact Hyde-White.<br/>
<br/>
Vince thaws a little  “Yeah fanks Willow,” he says slowly.<br/>
<br/>
“What do we need,” you say cheerfully as you load the three plates full of food onto a tray and grab some knives and forks to go with them.<br/>
<br/>
“I’ll make a list,” replies Vince, grabbing a tea towel from the workbench.  It uncovers the other baby monitor, a brief reminder that the group is keeping a close eye on Paige.  You glance away from it immediately.  Willow, by nature isn’t a duplicitous person and the fact that her friends are spying on their new recruit would sit awkwardly with her.  “Be ready when ya come back down.”<br/>
<br/>
You smile at him in response and pick up the heavily laden tray.  You have to use your foot to open the kitchen door, and it is awkward carrying it up the narrow staircase.  Outside Maira’s bedroom you set it down on a sideboard and knock nervously on the door.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah,” comes the muffled response from within.<br/>
<br/>
“Breakfast,” you say mousy voice.  “Can I come in?”<br/>
<br/>
Yeah,” answers Maira again.  You pick up the tray again and push at the door with your foot.  Now all you have to do is work out a way to explain your plans to Maira without Vince overhearing on the baby monitor.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 111231222122122121111122211112121112221111112211111111112121111
author_id: imaj
title: A Clandestine Exchange
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You absentmindedly wander the supermarket aisles, a shopping basket tucked under one arm and your cell phone held in your free hand.  It is a picture that would not look out of place anywhere, and so is perfect.  You doubt that Willow’s little group is paranoid enough to spy on her, but playing thing safe never hurt.  Your nimble fingers dash across the touch sensitive screen of the phone as you reply to the text message you received from Hyde-White.<br/>
<br/>
You’d sent the professor a message as soon as the group’s safehouse was out of sight.  Just a short note to advise him that you and ‘Maira’ has successfully infiltrated the group, and to let him know about your acquisition of Shaun’s memories in a mind band.  By the time he had replied you were in the supermarket, buying the groceries Vince asked you to.<br/>
<br/>
You read Hyde-White’s message again.  The terse language of the text message is a sharp contrast to the professor’s normal mode of speech.  <i>Noted.  An agent will meet you at the supermarket and uplift the mind band</i>, it reads.  The remainder of the message comprises of the sign and countersign you’ll need to identify the Fane agent, and a reminder to delete the message from the phone.<br/>
<br/>
That much was obvious.  You finish your reply, simply stating that you’ll follow the orders and remove all three messages from your cell phone’s memory.  You’ve got everything you need from the store now anyway.  You just have to pay for the groceries and wait for the agent.<br/>
<br/>
A few minute later you are standing outside the supermarket, a couple of heavily laden bags in one hand.  In your other, you are playing with your phone again.  No clandestine messages this time, it’s simply an excuse to stand in one place for a few moments.<br/>
<br/>
People pass by as you stand there, customers on their way into and out of the supermarket:  Young mothers with small children, pensioners, even some students.  It’s one of the last group that eventually comes up to you, a young man with greasy lank hair that reaches his shoulders.  His clothes are threadbare and torn, and he holds an unlit cigarette in a cupped hand.<br/>
<br/>
“You got a light luv,” he asks.  “Left my lighter in my other jacket.  Had a rough night last night,” he adds by way of explanation.<br/>
<br/>
You twitch slightly – that’s the sign you were expecting.  <i>This </i>guy is the Fane agent?  Then again, why should you be?  You and Paige would hardly it anyone’s idea of a secret agent either.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m sorry, I don’t smoke,” you reply nervously, and this time is it as much your own nerves as Willow’s.  You hesitate a moment before offering the countersign.  “Sounds wild.”<br/>
<br/>
“It was luv, it was” replies the agent with a grin.  You relax a little.  “Paige Knotts,” he asks in a very quiet voice, so that only you can hear.  You nod imperceptibly in reply.  As far as Hyde-White and the rest of Fane are concerned, it was Paige that replaced Willow, not you.  “Got something for us?”<br/>
<br/>
You nod slightly again, slipping one hand into the bag strapped over your shoulder.  At the bottom of the bag, you feel the presence of the mind band.  You pull it free and offer it to the agent, holding it low to hide the exchange.  “Sorry I don’t have a light for you,” you say for the benefit of anybody listening nearby.  The agent grabs the band and stuffs it in the pocket of his jeans.<br/>
<br/>
“Cheers anyway luv,” replies the agent.  He ambles off, as if nothing had happened.  It is to your great surprise that you find yourself shaking.  You spend a couple taking deep breaths and regaining your composure.  Then you start the return journey to the group’s safehouse.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
The kitchen is empty when you return to the safehouse.  You dump the bags of groceries on the worktop and start emptying them methodically.  It only takes a few minutes, and after you finish you realise you can hear voices talking nearby.  You hesitate for a second before deciding to go see who it is.<br/>
<br/>
You step out into the hall.  The voices are coming from the living room, the same place the group told their stories to Maira last night.  The door is ajar, open just an inch or so.  You lean beside it, to better hear what is being said inside.<br/>
<br/>
“…we brought her back here.”  You recognise Shaun’s voice.  He must be talking about Maira.  “Ya can speak with her if ya want.”<br/>
<br/>
“I think that would be worth pursuing,” replies a second voice.  There’s a fussy quality to it, and the hint of a Dutch accent.  With Willow’s memories, you instantly recognise it as Luuk, another member of the group, another one of its leader figures in fact.  He doesn’t stay with the group at the safehouse though, and as far as Willow knows he spends most of his time on research.  “Assuming we can trust her,” he adds.<br/>
<br/>
“Oi think so,” replies Shaun.  “Willow knows her best and she thinks so too.”<br/>
<br/>
“I see,” says Luuk.  There is a momentary pause before he continues.  “You said the girl is a student at Cambridge?  Wyndham College?”  He pauses again, giving Shaun time to answer.  You hear nothing, but assume Shaun must have nodded when Luuk continues.  “There are some texts in the special collections section of the library there that I would like to see.”<br/>
<br/>
“For your research,” says Shaun.  “How’s it coming along?”<br/>
<br/>
“Slowly,” answers Luuk.  “The papers in the Wyndham special collection would speed it up.  Access is restricted, but if this Maira was a Fane trainee, she might be permitted into the collection.”<br/>
<br/>
Luuk’s right, Hyde white did grant you and Paige access to the special collection in the Wyndham college library.  Your first instinct is to warn the professor – let him know what the group’s intentions are.  However, as your hand strays back inside your shoulder bag to grab your cell phone, another idea occurs to you:  Luuk rarely travels with the rest of group.  You know that from Willow’s memories.  Getting them all to go back to Cambridge to help Luuk and Maira get into the special collections section…  Well it would put them all in one place for Fane to pick up.<br/>
<br/>
“What about my lead in the US,” asks Shaun.  “Fane are up to something there.”<br/>
<br/>
“They are, as you say, ‘up to something’ everywhere,” replies Luuk.<br/>
<br/>
“The chatter about this Saratoga Falls place though,” mutters Shaun, his voice tailing off.  You freeze in place for a second.  He knows about your – and the real you, not Willow’s – home town?<br/>
<br/>
“You could take Willow and go there while Vincent and I go to Cambridge, answers Luuk.<br/>
<br/>
Splitting up the group is the exact opposite of what you want.  You take a moment to steel yourself before pushing open the door fully and walking in.  “Hey Shaun, I thought I heard you in here,” you bubble enthusiastically.  You turn your head, as if spotting Luuk for the first time.  “Hey Luuk.”<br/>
<br/>
“Willow,” states Luuk flatly.  He is a small man, slight and fastidiously well dressed.  Sparse hair is cropped close to his skull.  Willow’s memories tell you that there has always been a certain nervousness too him.  You don’t know the cause.  He has never shared his story the same way the rest of the group has.<br/>
<br/>
“Did I hear something about going to America,” you say walking across the room to Shaun.  You wrap your arms around his waist and hug him closely.<br/>
<br/>
“Just you and me Willow,” answers Shaun.<br/>
<br/>
“That sounds good,” you murmur, laying your head on his chest.  You glance at Luuk, to gauge his reaction, but his face remains impassive.<br/>
<br/>
“Luuk and Vince are going to take Maira back to Cambridge,” adds Shaun.  You let yourself stiffen, holding your body rigid till Shaun notices something is wrong.  “What,” he asks gently.<br/>
<br/>
You take a small step back from Shaun and look up at him.  “It’s just… I’m not sure Maira trusts us all yet.  She barely knows Vince and she hasn’t even met Luuk yet,” you explain.  “I really want to go with you to America Shaun, but I should stay with Maira until she knows us all better.”  You sound completely and utterly sincere, motivated only by Willow’s strong compassion.<br/>
<br/>
“It wouldn’t be wise to go by yourself Shaun,” says Luuk quietly. “And I would want Vince to cover us in Cambridge.”<br/>
<br/>
“So what are ya saying Luuk,” asks Shaun, a hint of unhappiness in his voice.  “We can’t do both?”<br/>
<br/>
“Not at the same time,” explains Luuk.  “I do not think we can leave Cambridge long.  Fane will work out that Maira has left them and the special collections section will no longer be open to her.”<br/>
<br/>
“Assuming she even has access in the first place,” replies Shaun.  It is the first time you have seen even a hint of anger in Shaun’s normally laid back demeanour.  “If we wait too long, they’ll be finished up in Saratoga Falls too.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s one or the other then,” says Luuk, putting his hands together below his chin.<br/>
<br/>
Shaun sighs and looks to the side.  “Looks that way then.  Which?”<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1112312221221221211111222111121211122211111122111111111121211111
author_id: imaj
title: Methods of Betrayal
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>“Do you have access to the special collection section at Wyndham College,” asks Luuk.<br/>
<br/>
Maira sits on the couch beside you, her hands clasped together nervously.  An hour or so has passed since you burst in on Luuk and Shaun.  The brief argument that followed is over now.  In truth you are a little surprised that Luuk got his way rather than Shaun.  The little Dutchman has a steely core, it seems, and you wonder if it is as much him as it is Shaun that is responsible for the group’s continued existence.<br/>
<br/>
Either way, if Fane can capture both it will mark the end of this little collection of lost souls.  You glance at Maira.  Paige is doing an excellent job, portraying Maira as nervous and vulnerable.  You managed to describe your plan to her before she came down to meet Luuk and Shaun.  She’s going to help you make sure that as much of the group come with you back to Cambridge.<br/>
<br/>
Maira snuffles a little.  You feel her hand skitter across her thigh towards you.  You grasp it and give it a reassuring squeeze.  “Professor Hyde-White set it up fur me,” she stutters.  “Part of mah training.”<br/>
<br/>
“Your training?”  Luuk tenses a little.<br/>
<br/>
“It wis a special program,” says Maira slowly and quietly.  “The professor…  The professor wis training us for something.  He never said what.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s ok Maira,” you interrupt, giving her hand another squeeze.  She seems distraught and again you marvel at how well Paige is playing the part.  “You’re with us now.”<br/>
<br/>
Luuk hesitates for a moment, trying to work out how best to broach the subject tactfully.  This part is Paige’s idea:  By making Maira seem reluctant, it obscures that you are luring the group into a trap.  “I know this is hard,” he begins.  “Fane have been hard on all of us…”  He pauses for a moment again, uncertain.  “There are some papers, donated to the special collection at Wyndham.  If I was able to read them…  It would help us in our fight against Fane.”<br/>
<br/>
Maira says nothing.  She just stares blankly at the ground.<br/>
<br/>
“We need your help Maira,” you say encouragingly.  “We need it to stop Fane hurting anyone ever again.”<br/>
<br/>
“Ah’m scared Willow,” says Maira, very quietly.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s ok,” you reply, giving her a hug.<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t want to do this alone,” adds Maira<br/>
<br/>
Shaun walks over and sits on the other side of Maira.  He rests one hand on her shoulder.  “We’ll be there with you,” he states.<br/>
<br/>
Maira looks at him, her face conveying just enough of a sense of hope.  “Really?”<br/>
<br/>
“Really,” answers Shaun.<br/>
<br/>
“I’ll be there too,” you tell her.<br/>
<br/>
Maira looks at you now, smiling nervously.  You see the confidence building on her face, expertly faked by Paige.  “Thanks.  All of yeh, thanks.  Ah’ll do it.”<br/>
<br/>
You give her another hug.  When it ends, you see Shaun smiling at you encouragingly.  Luuk sighs with relief.  You hide your own smile.  They think they’ve just managed to persuade a reluctant Maira to help them.  Neither realises the trap you have led them into.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
Orange lights roll past, the constant stream creating a flickering glow as they shine though the back windows of the van.  It provides only a dim and flickering illumination into the back of the van.  The van is uncomfortable, with only a handful of cushions protecting you cold hard floor.  Opposite you sits Maira, her head leaning back against the side of the van.  It lolls a little whenever the van hits a bump in the road.  Beside her is Luuk.  He’s engrossed in his tablet computer, and the light shines up onto his face from it.  Vince and Shaun are upfront in the cab, with Vince driving.<br/>
<br/>
That’s all the important members of the group in one place.  A few stragglers like Jodie are back at the safehouse, but without the likes of Shaun and Luuk to lead them, they’ll be no threat.  You told Hyde-White as much when you managed to sneak away from the rest and send a text message to him.  He told you to sit tight in his reply.  You wonder what he has got planned.<br/>
<br/>
You glace at your watch.  It’s well after midnight now.  You didn’t set out from the safehouse until late.  Luuk wanted to be in Cambridge as quickly as possible, so Maira could walk into the Wyndham library first thing on Monday morning.  That’s only a few hours away now, and it looks like you’ll have to get whatever sleep you can in the van.<br/>
<br/>
Or maybe not:  The orange lights of the passing streetlamps are suddenly replaced by a flashing blue light.  There is a thump from the front of the van, someone in the cab thumping on the partition to catch you and the other passengers attentions.  “Police,” comes Shaun’s muffled voice.  “We’re goin’ to have to pull over.”<br/>
<br/>
You look at the other passengers as the van draws to a halt.  Luuk is suddenly alert, looking up from his tablet and his eyes jerking around the van nervously.  As for Maira, it could just be the light, but it looks for a second as if she is smirking at you.<br/>
<br/>
“What’s happening,” you say breathlessly.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s probably nothing,” answers Luuk.  “Just try to stay clam.”  Though from what you can see, it seems like Luuk is having trouble following his own advice.<br/>
<br/>
There is a rattling at the back doors of the van.  Then they swing open.  Torches shine in on you, making it difficult to see beyond them.  After a few seconds you become accustomed to the light.  Half dozen police officers stand just outside the van.  Already two of them have grabbed Luuk and are dragging him out of the van.<br/>
<br/>
Luuk screams in protest, but one of the policemen cuffs him across the face.  Two of their number pull him out of the van.  He hangs loosely between them, legs unmoving as they drag him away.<br/>
<br/>
One of the police officers offers you a hand.  “Miss Jasper, Miss Niazi.  My name’s Miller.  Professor Hyde-White would like to see you both now.”<br/>
<br/>
You frown, but accept his hand.  He helps you out of the van and onto the road.  It’s cold, and your first action is to shiver as you take a look around.  The van has been stopped on the edge of a town, near clump of industrial units.  No other cars pass by and there is no one else here to witness the scene.  A police officer comes up with a pair of blankets and her offers one to you and Maira.  You accept it gratefully.<br/>
<br/>
“Get the fuck off,” roars Vince.  Your head snaps round to watch as two officers struggle to pull him along.  A third punches the big Londoner gut.  He sags and stops resisting.<br/>
<br/>
Behind him comes Shaun, another two policemen escorting him with his hands locked behind his back.  He doesn’t fight back and just stares blankly at the ground as he is escorted away.  As he passes you, he resists briefly, long enough to stop and look up at you, taking in the difference between how the police are treating him and how they are treating you.  His eyes bore into you, brimming with despair.<br/>
<br/>
“Why Willow” he asks in a flat voice.  “Why’d ya do it.”<br/>
<br/>
The officers escorting Shaun stop for a moment, giving you time to step forward and whisper in his ear.  “I’m not Willow,” you tell him.  “Willow is dead Shaun.”  You take a step back and grin evilly at him.  Shaun can only manage to stare at you in wide eyed and dumbfounded confusion.  You can’t help yourself:  You twirl around briefly, challenging him to spot some little tell that backs up your claim to be an impostor<br/>
<br/>
“But…” says Shaun.  The policemen give him a rough shove.  “But…”<br/>
<br/>
“Keep a lid on it,” yells one of Shaun’s escorts.  Shaun opens his mouth to speak one last time but thinks better of it.  His gaze falls to the ground again and he lets the policemen lead him away with no further protests.<br/>
<br/>
You and Maira watch as the policemen lead their prisoners back to the group of police cars.  The passenger door of one of them opens and out steps Hyde-White.  He smiles at you both as he approaches.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11123122212212212111112221111212111222111111221111111111212111111
author_id: imaj
title: In Which Paige Faces Up To Her Problems
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>“Congratulations are in order then ladies,” says Hyde-White as he comes to a halt beside you and Maira.  “A fine conclusion to your first assignment.”<br/>
<br/>
“What about the ones left at the safehouse,” you ask.  “Jodie…”<br/>
<br/>
“Already take care of,” interrupts Hyde-White.  He glances at his watch.  The counter terrorism squad will have arrested them a few moments ago”<br/>
<br/>
“Those really are polis,” says Maira, her tone indicating surprise.  “I thought they were more Fane agents.”<br/>
<br/>
“Heavens no,” replies Hyde-White, clasping his skeletal hands together.  “No, why would we take the risk when a simple phone call and we can have the assistance of the genuine article.”  You frown for a moment.  Does Fane have that kind of power?  That they can have that kind of hold over the authorities?  It shouldn’t be troubling, you are part of Fane now after all, but you can’t help but feel a little unsettled.  “We are always happy to assist our friends in the police service,” he smirks.<br/>
<br/>
“So what now,” you ask.  Behind the professor, the police finish forcing Vince, Luuk and Shaun into the back of their cars.  All but one of the cars drive off, sirens blazing again.<br/>
<br/>
The professor glances at the receding police cars.  “Back to Cambridge.  A few days rest from your training program would be an adequate reward.  Back to work first thing on Wednesday though Mr Prescott.”<br/>
<br/>
Your mouth hangs open for a few seconds.  “How did you know?”<br/>
<br/>
Hyde white flashes his perfect teeth at you again.  “Doctor Lillis came clean about his little challenge for you when I spoke to him about your assignment yesterday,” he explains.  “If it is any consolation, you performance as each other was exemplary.  I admit, though, that I am surprised you did not swap back for this mission.”<br/>
<br/>
You shrug.  “We would both have been wearing masks either way,” you explain.<br/>
<br/>
“True,” replies Hyde-White.  “True.”<br/>
<br/>
“Can we keep the masks,” asks Paige, casting aside any pretences of Maira’s persona now the secret is out.<br/>
<br/>
Hyde-White stares up at the night sky and rubs at his throat with a frail looking hand.  “I don’t see why not.  Perhaps we shall add days spent as each other to your training regime.  Shall we call it a teamworking exercise?”<br/>
<br/>
Paige only grins in reply.<br/>
<br/>
“Excellent,” says Hyde-White, clapping his hands.  “Shall we get you two back home?  If you’ll follow me,” he adds, gesturing at the one remaining police car.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
You yawn and stretch as you wake up later that morning.  It has been a while since you woke up in Maira’s bed, in Maira’s body too.  A glance at the clock reveals it is nearly midday, so you climb out of bed and find a robe.<br/>
<br/>
Paige is sitting on the couch in the living room when you enter, her feet resting on the coffee table.  She flips through television channels as you sit next to her.  There’s nothing on, just typical daytime rubbish.  As you sit down, Paige shifts her feet back onto the floor, revealing a mask sitting on the table.<br/>
<br/>
“Morning Maira,” she says, without really looking at you.  “How you doing?”<br/>
<br/>
You turn and smile at her  “Feels strange being me again,” you explain.  “What about you?”<br/>
<br/>
Paige sighs and folds her arms across he chest.  “I dunno,” she replies.  She says nothing for a minute, but you wait for her to continue rather than speaking yourself.  “The last couple of days,” she adds, suddenly much more animated.  “It was <i>great</i>.  Doing what we did:  Being someone else, tricking Shaun and that, then turning them in.  I don’t think I’ve ever felt that way before…” she trails off again.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah,” you agree.  “You did great.  We did great.”<br/>
<br/>
Paige folds her arms again.  “I want you see how I <i>felt</i>.”  She gestures at the mask.  You lean forward to look at it, her name hovers on the inside in pale blue letters.  “I put it on earlier.  That updates my memories, doesn’t it?”  You nod silently.  “So put it on again.”<br/>
<br/>
Paige looks at you patiently, and you decide to humour her.  Taking off the mask of Maira leaves you a little dizzy, but you place it down on the coffee table and lift up the mask of Paige instead.  You put it gingerly to your face and wait.  Paige’s memories creep up on you as your body slips into her shape.  You let it all wash over you, closing your eyes and concentrating on her memories of the last few days like she has asked.<br/>
<br/>
The ghostlike image of her emotions filters through you.  Unbidden, a smirk forms on your face.  Paige wasn’t lying – she thoroughly enjoyed the experience of infiltrating the group.  And not only did she enjoy it, she wants to do it again, and soon.  You let your eyes flicker open and prepare to remove the mask.<br/>
<br/>
Paige has move onto your lap, and her face is just inches from your own.  Before you have a chance to react she closes the last of the distance and her lips lock with your own.<br/>
<br/>
It catches you by surprise.  Paige is rough and aggressive, pulling you closer with her hands, her tongue roams round your mouth.  The copy of Paige’s emotions inside your head react hotly, and you find yourself quickly kissing back just as hard.  One of Paige’s hands slips down from your face, slipping down your body and snaking in between your thighs.<br/>
<br/>
Paige’s emotions flash hot within you again.  You push Paige away and she rolls sideways back onto the couch.  Without thinking you find yourself leaping to your feet.  It is those same emotions rather than your own that lead you to shout to her.  “Stay the fuck away from me.”  You storm into the bedroom.  Only when you have slammed the door behind you and thrown yourself on the bed do you realise that it is Paige’s room that you fled to rather than your own.<br/>
<br/>
You curl up into a ball and start crying.  You only stop once you manage to push Paige’s persona away from yourself and stop it ruling you actions.  A few minutes later there is a knock at the door.<br/>
<br/>
Paige enters, her eyes red from crying.  You sit up and she sits down beside you on the bed.  “Am I really like that?”<br/>
<br/>
You blink a couple of times.  The copy of Paige’s persona inside you bristles at the question.  “I…  You…” you stutter.<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t let people get close,” she says quietly, her eyes fixed firmly on the floor.<br/>
<br/>
The admission seems to unlock something in the copy of Paige’s persona within you.  She’s right, absolutely right.  Paige never lets anyone get close to her because…  “Because sooner or later they abandon me,” you say.  Your voice is as quiet and uncertain as Paige’s own.<br/>
<br/>
“But Will is different,” adds Paige.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Am I different,</i> you wonder.  Then you see just what she means.  Fane have paired you together.  Whether they realised it or not, your partnership is something far more than the sum of its parts.  You reach up and take the mask of Paige off, banishing the accompanying sense of light-headedness with an effort of Will.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m not going to abandon you Paige,” you tell her.  It’s been such a long time since you heard it last that your own voice sounds alien to you.<br/>
<br/>
“I know,” answers Paige.  She waits a moment.  “I’m scared.”  For a moment you wonder if she is manipulating you, the way she manipulate Shaun and his friends.  But you were just inside her head, and you realise with absolute certainly that she is telling the truth.<br/>
<br/>
“Why,” you ask.  “Look at us, look at what we just did.”  Paige looks up at you, a smile starting to form on her face.  “Imagine what we can do together.  We can go anywhere, be anyone, do whatever we want.”<br/>
<br/>
“What about Fane,” asks Paige.  “No, we can make them see things our way, can’t we?”<br/>
<br/>
You nod.  “Together,” you ask, taking Paige’s hands in your own.<br/>
<br/>
“Together.”<br/>
<i><br/>
Will &amp; Paige’s adventures in "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1942914/action/view/chapter_map/11431" target="_top" title="Interactive Story Chapter in Item # 1942914">The Hunters</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1942914/action/view/chapter_map/11431" target="_blank" title="Open in new window."><img border="0" height="12" loading="lazy" onmouseout="$(this).css('opacity', '.4');" onmouseover="$(this).css('opacity', '1');" src="https://www.Writing.Com/nw.gif" style="opacity:.4;" width="12"/></a> in The Wandering Stars</i><br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1112312221221221211111222111122
author_id: seuzz
title: Losing Lisa
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The blood drains from your face. "Can't Gordon get a copy of her?" you squeak.<br/>
<br/>
"Gordon says she's off limits." Patterson draws close. "It's a real bone between us," he murmurs. "If you do this job, it's just between you and me. Her mask doesn't go in the pile. You and me are the only ones who get to use it." His eyebrow arches. "Think about it. Your cock. Her pussy. Her hot, wet, tight pussy. <i>After</i> she's sucked you off."<br/>
<br/>
You're held rapt by the vision, and your cock rises like a rocket gantry. "Whoa!" you murmur. <br/>
<br/>
Then you catch yourself.<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you said that we weren't supposed to fuck with each other," you say warily, for it suddenly feeling like a trap. "Wouldn't it be ... <i>fucking</i> with Gordon, to get a copy of his girlfriend when he says ..."<br/>
<br/>
The moment lingers in the air. Then—<br/>
<br/>
"Good man," Patterson says, and claps your shoulder. "You got integrity." Then the smile sours. "Unless you're just a chicken-shit."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not scared of anyone!"<br/>
<br/>
He laughs. "You should be. Gordon's put people in the hospital." He leans against a crate. "But that's okay. So Tilley's set to get Javits tonight. You can use him for your next job."<br/>
<br/>
"The Eastman player."<br/>
<br/>
He nods. "You'll probably have to wait until this weekend. Keep Friday clear, though. You and me and Gordon will get together. You'll put on Seth's mask, we'll play a little ball, and talk about who at the other school would be good to get."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Caleb and Keith eye you curiously when you catch up to them, and as it's not a big secret, you tell them about your conversation with Patterson. (Except, of course, for the bit about getting Chelsea.) That talk, naturally, sets you thinking about Lisa, and you ask Caleb to pump Eva or Jessica for information on her, but he gruffly tells you to do your own intelligence work.<br/>
<br/>
So that's what you do. <br/>
<br/>
Lisa has a study hall fourth period, so the next day you skip English and look for her in the library. She's sitting at a table with Amanda Ferguson and Ricky Golia. The latter nods cheerfully at you as you pull out a chair, but the two girls only glance at you. "Hey Lisa, we haven't talked in awhile," you say, feeling awkward.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," she says, and doesn't meet your eyes. <br/>
<br/>
"People have been asking me what's been going on between us," you continue. "I've been telling them nothing's been going on. Like, we haven't even talked in a couple of weeks." It's the best you can manage at making the veiled revelation that you've been sticking to her side of the story. <br/>
<br/>
"I'm sorry about that, Will," she replies. "I haven't been trying to blow you off."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, um, I've been wondering why they've been asking. Like, do they think something is going on between us again?"<br/>
<br/>
"I really don't think it's any of your business, Will," Amanda says primly. You shoot her a dark look. Amanda is one of those busybodies who thinks the world would spin much more smoothly on its axis if idiots like you kept quiet and didn't do anything without her permission. You look to Lisa for support, but she just keeps staring at the table top.<br/>
<br/>
"I just mean," you stammer. "Even if we're not— I still want to help you with— With whatever. With anything."<br/>
<br/>
Lisa's face tightens. Amanda shoots a quick, angry look at Ricky, and he jumps a little in his chair. "Hey Will," he says. "How about you, uh, help me go find a book." He stumbles to his feet, and gives you a pale, pleading expression.<br/>
<br/>
You look at Lisa, who continues to stare at the table, and at Amanda, who is staring stonily over your shoulder. <i>Fuck.</i> If it had been anybody but Amanda with Lisa ... You rise with a grimace, and Ricky looks relieved as you follow him back into the stacks. "You got any good, like, fantasy novels you can recommend to me?" he asks, even though he's steered you into the biology section. <br/>
<br/>
"You can tell me what the fuck is going on," you reply.<br/>
<br/>
He sags. "Don't ask me, man. I'm in the middle of it, and I'm hating it."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, tell me what you're in the middle of, because if it's something to do with Lisa—"<br/>
<br/>
"If you don't know, then count yourself lucky. You're in the middle of it too, and if you don't know what it is, then, well, ignorance is bliss."<br/>
<br/>
You know exactly what he means, but you have to pretend you don't. "If I'm in the middle of something, I want to know what it is."<br/>
<br/>
"No you don't." But then he sighs. "Did you see Lisa up at the mall last week?"<br/>
<br/>
"Anthony Kirk asked me that the other day. Why is everyone so interested?"<br/>
<br/>
His expression turns hooded. "Well, were you?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. I haven't seen her outside school since— I don't remember."<br/>
<br/>
He grunts. "Well, just keep telling people that, and you'll be okay. And don't get pissed at them if they keep asking. Just be mystified, okay?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm mystified now."<br/>
<br/>
"And it looks good on you."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Just stay away from her," Eva hisses, and if you could, you'd crawl backward into your locker and shut the door.<br/>
<br/>
"I just want to know what's going on," you protest. "And to try to help."<br/>
<br/>
She stares at you, hard, then relents a little. A very little.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, I know you mean well, Will," she says, "but the last thing Lisa needs is to see your face."<br/>
<br/>
"What did I do to her?" As soon as the words are out of your mouth, you recoil internally. You know <i>exactly</i> what you did to her. You put on her face and fucked Geoff Mansfield. <br/>
<br/>
"You're a walking reminder of something very bad that is happening to her right now."<br/>
<br/>
"I haven't done <i>anything</i> to her," you protest again.<br/>
<br/>
Eva softens a little more. "I know. But you've still got a crush on her, right?" You bridle a little—<i>It was more than a crush!</i>—but nod your head. "Then stay away from her. Give her time to get some shit behind her."<br/>
<br/>
"How long will that take, and when will I know it's okay to talk to her again?"<br/>
<br/>
And now Eva just looks tired. "I don't know. Just wait a month or so."<br/>
<br/>
"A month?!"<br/>
<br/>
She looks around, and seems to think a good long time before speaking again.<br/>
<br/>
"You're a good guy, Will," she says at last. "If I thought you weren't, I'd tell you what it was all about. But you are, so I won't."<br/>
<br/>
"Wait, what?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just shut up. For everyone's sake."<br/>
<br/>
If you really were in the dark about things, you'd be really pissed. As it is, you <i>are</i> really pissed, because no one will let you get close to Lisa to try to comfort her. But Lisa especially seems to be pushing you away.<br/>
<br/>
That wasn't part of your original plan for screwing up her relationship with Mansfield.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"I fucked your girlfriend yesterday," Gordon says. He crouches before you and swings from side to side as you dribble the ball. "I got her fingerprints in my back. She wrapped her legs so tight around me she almost snapped me in two." The ball thumps hard on the blacktop as you glare at him. "Next time you're inside her, it'll be <i>my</i> name she's screaming."<br/>
<br/>
You feint to the left, then spin to the right, all the way around, and brush past him as he overcompensates to block your second move. Powerful muscles loft you into the air, and you push the ball through the hoop. You slam an open palm against your bicep and jam a fist into Gordon's face.<br/>
<br/>
Patterson guffaws from the sideline. "He's even better than the real one!"<br/>
<br/>
"Then the real one's been slacking," Gordon retorts, and his face blackens as he turns on you. He tears at your shirt and lifts his own fist. "I can't bust the real one, but I can bust this one up bad."<br/>
<br/>
You duck and swivel and drive a hard elbow into his gut, then tear away as he goes double. You feel your lips peel back, and Gordon glares up at you. Patterson gives a sharp, shrill whistle through his teeth, and leaps between you.<br/>
<br/>
"Let's keep this friendly," he barks. Gordon snarls, but Steve lays a strong hand on his shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
"He's a perfect fake, Gordon," he tells his friend, then leans in and murmurs something in his friend's ear. Black looks over at him sharply, then looks back at you. There is still anger in his eyes, but now there's a gleam as well. He smiles crookedly at you.<br/>
<br/>
It's Friday. You're at the elementary school by your house—Patterson's suggestion, as it is away from anywhere any of Seth Javits' real friends would be likely to spot you. You're dressed out as Tilley's bete noir, and it's a good thing Tilley isn't around: so intoxicated are you by Javits' agility and strength that you're letting his own personality run riot around you, and Keith would definitely not be safe. There's just something about his stupid face that sets Seth off.<br/>
<br/>
You're still on your guard, but Patterson seems to have calmed Black down, so you relax a little when Steve turns to you with a mischievous gleam in his eye. "You look hungry, man," he taunts. "You had Cindy since Tuesday night?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you!"<br/>
<br/>
He laughs. "You want her tonight? The real one, not the fake." You blink, and even Gordon looks startled. But Patterson is serene. "We can set it up for you in the VIP room," he continues. "Make it a full-body experience for you, Prescott." His smile widens.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11123122212212212111112221111221
author_id: seuzz
title: Mystery Date
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You bristle—doubly so. Your own psyche rebels at the way Patterson is trying to give you a girl, like she were an after-dinner mint, and the Javits persona you've temporarily assumed rebels even more strongly at his presumption at being able to give you your own girlfriend. You're about to curse him out good and hard when you catch sight of Gordon's face.<br/>
<br/>
Not that there's anything special about his expression: he's staring dumbly at Patterson. But his earlier taunting comes flooding back.<br/>
<br/>
So: "Yeah, sure," you grin wolfishly. "I got enough to service two of her."<br/>
<br/>
Patterson snickers. "Well, let's try to keep the two Cindys away from each other. Let's see." He lowers his head thoughtfully. "You don't have Javits' phone, and it would look weird if you called from Prescott's. Me and Gordon will go keep Javits distracted, and after we've got him alone I'll call Cindy and tell her to meet you up at the fuck room."<br/>
<br/>
Gordon continues to look dubious, but Patterson bullies him along, and they leave soon afterward to meet the real Seth. You remain behind, where, stripped to your waist, you continue to practice with the ball. The cool air and warm sun feel good on your taut torso, and you luxuriate in the pleasure of strong muscles responding easily and quickly to your every desire. Not long after, some elementary school students enter the old playground and watch. After ten minutes some of the bigger ones come over. You talk casually with them, which sets them grinning, and soon you are playing the role of coach as you show them how to move the ball around. You're much nicer as a drill master than Gordon is.<br/>
<br/>
About thirty minutes later you hear your cell phone ringing from the side of the blacktop. It's Patterson with the news that Cindy is already on her way over to the fuck room. You wave goodbye to the boys—to their disappointment—and jog over to your truck. Your cock is already swelling.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Cindy is pacing by the side door of the gym as you drive past the school, and since you are in your own truck, not Javits', you take care to park in the teacher's lot on the other side of the school. She looks up in surprise as you appear around the corner. "Hey, baby," you grin. "Been waitin' long?" She shakes her head. You grasp at her hand and lean in for a quick peck at her lips. She pulls back. "What's wrong?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
She hesitates just a moment, then relaxes. "Nothing. I just had another fight with Lucy." Then she leans in for a kiss. You let her come, then draw her in, and your tongues twine and slide over each other. Your hand runs up and down her back.<br/>
<br/>
"Come on, let's go in," you say. "Don't wanna scare the horses." You fumble the key into the latch of the side door.<br/>
<br/>
"Steve gave you a key?" she says, sounding surprised.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Key to this door, key to the one upstairs. Guess we've really arrived, part of the team and everything." You wrap your arm around her slim waist and draw her into the gym. "Membership has its privileges, they do say."<br/>
<br/>
Side by side you saunter over to the stairs. She's very small next you, and nestles nicely into your shoulder. You can't keep a silly grin off your face. Of course, with Javits' memories you know pretty much what it will be like—Cindy is terrific; a predictable fuck but never a boring one—but it's the glory of being able to do it in the high school's most prestigious room, on the mat that Gordon and Steve and Jason have used, which puts you in their company as one of the alpha-ests of the alphas ... You're going to do it, quick and hard and fast, the first time. And then you'll cuddle and coo for a while. Then you'll do it a second time, and that'll be slower and more nurturing. And then you'll relax on your back and stroke her and dirty-talk her, and that'll bring her up to your speed, because girls are always slower than guys, and you'll lay back and let her do all the work the third time.<br/>
<br/>
So dazzled are you by these plans that it's not until you are halfway up the steps that you remember with a shock that you need to be very careful when you get in. The real Seth has been up in the fuck room, on Wednesday night, in fact, when the Cindy-disguised Tilley lured him up. (And you suppress a snicker; Tilley had to go all the way with him, and wait till he was in a post-coital daze before hitting him with the mask.) But as far as the real Cindy knows, this will be Seth's first time up in the VIP room. He has sworn up and down to her that he's never been up there. So, you pre-emptively cover yourself: "I hope it's all it's cracked up to be."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I mean, everyone thinks this place is a great pad or something," you shrug as you slip the key into the lock. "But it's just a place where Gordon and Steve hang out, so it's probably—" The door creaks open, disclosing ... "Yeah," you grimace. "Just another place for the guys to drop their shit around." The light perfume that has been coming off Cindy curdles and dies as it's hit by the stench of beer and sweat and dirty clothes. She says nothing, and you caress her back in a way you mean to be reassuring. "Well, as long as we got each other, that's the important thing." The sun, very near the horizon is pouring golden light directly through the windows. "I wonder if there's anything better than that old mat," you say, and pretend to rummage around.<br/>
<br/>
"The mat'll be fine," she says. She flops down onto it, and there's nothing dainty or demure about the way she lays back on it. She twitches up the edge of her skirt, to flash her panties at you, and smiles. "I don't see why we can't do it down and dirty."<br/>
<br/>
You growl at her from the back of your throat, and drop to your knees between her spreading legs. She falls back, and you lean over her. Gently, you rub her still-hidden pussy with your knee as you grin down at her. "You dirty little wench."<br/>
<br/>
"Hang on," she says, craning her neck. "Wasn't there a pillow or something around here? Oh, there it is." She grasps for it while you slide a hand up between her panties and her thigh, to tickle and rub her. "That's better," she says as she pushes it under her neck.<br/>
<br/>
"It's like you know this place better than me," you say. You drop down onto one elbow so you can kiss her.<br/>
<br/>
"I just remembered it from last time," she murmurs during a brief break as you pull back. "Mmph," she adds as you kiss her again.<br/>
<br/>
And then you break off. "What do you mean 'last time'?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, Wednesday night," she says, and her own brow clouds. "Why do you keep talking like this is our first time up here?"<br/>
<br/>
You stare at her and she stares at you. And then you feel the hot blood rising into your face. Your heart and head both start to pound, and a red mist forms in front of your eyes. Your hand trembles slightly as you reach for her face. "Seth, honey, what are you— Seth!" She grabs at your hand, but you are too strong, and you grip her brow firmly, mutter an incantation, and pull.<br/>
<br/>
There's a soft ripping sound, and Keith Tilley's ugly face replaces Cindy's angelic one. His eyes swim briefly in and out of focus, but you don't give him a chance to pass out, and slap him hard across the face. "Fucker!" you shout. "Fucking pervert!" His eyes go wide with terror, and you slap him again. "I'll tear your fucking balls off and make you suck them, you— you—!"<br/>
<br/>
He gurgles in horror and terror. "Seth!" he finally gasps. "It— It—"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't 'Seth' me!" you roar as you stagger back to your feet. "Just let me get this mask off and I'll kick your ass as myself! It's me, Will!"<br/>
<br/>
He chokes, and then it's his turn to redden. "Will? What the fuck are doing dressed up as Javits?!"<br/>
<br/>
"What the fuck are <i>you</i> doing dressed up as <i>Cindy</i>?"<br/>
<br/>
"Patterson called me! He said Javits was feeling horny, and that I—!" He breathes and snorts like a horse struggling up to its shoulders in a mire. "I needed to go to the fuck room and make him happy."<br/>
<br/>
"He didn't tell you it was going to be <i>me?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"No!" His eyes widen. "And he didn't tell you it was going to be <i>me?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
You hop around the loft, pounding the air with your fists.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, that <i>fucker</i> and his mind games! Him and Gordon are probably laughing their asses off." You look around wildly. "I wonder if they've got a camera in here."<br/>
<br/>
"Wouldn't surprise me," Keith says. He twists uncomfortably on the mat. "Say, do you think you could take Seth's face off? It's freaking me out."<br/>
<br/>
"Just put Cindy's back on, dorkwad. You look gay dressed like that. Ugly <i>and</i> gay." He doesn't move, and you stride around the room. "Asshole!" you shout. "Yeah, if you can hear me, you fuckers, I'm talking about you!" You swing around wildly, trying to spot any kind of electronic spy. "You wanna stop me from tearing this place up, call me. Now!" You stand, hand on hips, panting. Your cell phone remains quiet.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe they don't have a camera," Keith says.<br/>
<br/>
"One way to find out for sure," you say grimly. "Let's snoop. They'll call if they catch us trying to break into their secret cabinet."<br/>
<br/>
"Normally I'd go along with you," Keith says. "But— Hey, I know. You wanna prank them back?"<br/>
<br/>
"How?" you frown.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, they think it's me as Cindy and you as Seth. Let's switch, and go back to see them."</span></div></div>


path: 111231222122122121111122211112211
author_id: seuzz
title: Mystery Date: The Sequel
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"That's lame," you sneer. "Come on, I wanna see what we can find." But Keith just hangs back, even as you tackle the cabinets that hold the supplies. <br/>
<br/>
The first holds three masks. To your relief, the first one you pick up is Lisa's, which means Lynch must've finished whatever job he had to use it for. The second is Geoff's. The third— <i>Anthony Kirk?</i> Must have been one of Jason's job. You tug your lip. If Lynch went to Kirk as Lisa, the conversation must have wound up being about the crisis between her and Mansfield. Your face tightens at the thought of what Lynch probably told Kirk before getting the mask of him. More messes for you to clean up, probably, when you have time.<br/>
<br/>
"Where's the rest of the masks," you ask aloud. "Jessica's and Eva's and Kendra's?" <br/>
<br/>
"I've got Jessica's," Keith says. "I'm supposed to use it to get a copy of Yumi. Caleb's probably got Eva's. Or maybe he's got Kendra's."<br/>
<br/>
You grunt; the cheerleaders sure are being useful, you reflect as you close the cabinet. The next door has a new lock on it, you note, and you don't have a key. The third door is the one with the combination lock. You pull idly at it, but it's latched.<br/>
<br/>
You run your hands over the shoddy woodwork, but it's all solid enough. There are bigger doors to bigger cabinets under the three you've been exploring, and they're open, so you squat down to look inside them. They are all empty, and you press and push at their upper boards, to see if you can get into the cabinets from underneath, but they're solidly attached. You swear and slam the doors shut.<br/>
<br/>
"Done?" Keith asks in a hopeful tone.<br/>
<br/>
"Not if you'd help," you growl, but he remains motionless. You turn to some nearby crates, but they reveal nothing but grimy equipment. After a few minutes of fruitless searching you have to concede defeat.<br/>
<br/>
"We could still switch," Keith says.<br/>
<br/>
"Nah, get that mask back on. Or, I dunno, get changed back into your own clothes and leave her mask here. I still wanna be able to tell Patterson I did Cindy."<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't bring any of my things," Keith says as he picks the mask back up. "But don't get the idea you're going to do me," he adds hotly.<br/>
<br/>
"And if you woke up with me inside you, what would you do?" You grin. Keith frowns, and you wave him off. "Just get changed. I'll wait for you downstairs."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Back at your house—and changed back to yourself—you call Patterson. "How was she?" he chortles.<br/>
<br/>
"Nice prank," you snap. "But Keith and me figured out what was going on before things got too far."<br/>
<br/>
He laughs. "Well, you can't blame me for trying. You still have Javits' mask with you? Tilley still has Cindy's?" You grunt. "Well, you guys will need them. I did a little listening around, and there's an afternoon party scheduled for tomorrow where you can get an Eastman player. I wangled an invite for myself and Javits and Cindy, but I'll be skipping. You and Cindy should show up. I don't need to tell you who will be playing her."<br/>
<br/>
"That'll make Keith happy."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, be affectionate." He gives you the time and address. "Girl's name is Kristy Carlson. I don't know her, but I heard about it through Kelsey Blankenship, and she's the connection."<br/>
<br/>
"Will someone be playing Kelsey?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, you and Tilley will be the only ones there. I'm not babysitting you guys."<br/>
<br/>
"Where's Jason these days?"<br/>
<br/>
"Being his dipshit self, as far as I can tell. He's supposed to be getting Laurent Delacroix."<br/>
<br/>
"I just noticed that a bunch of masks were out," you say. "If I see Eva or Jessica or Kendra at the party—"<br/>
<br/>
"You shouldn't," he says. "If you do, it's the real people, so be careful."<br/>
<br/>
"What are you going to be doing?"<br/>
<br/>
"Spending quality time in the fuck room," he says. "Not that it's any of your business."<br/>
<br/>
Only after you hang up do you realize what that means: Unless Patterson means to do something really gay with the Mansfield and Kirk masks, it'll be time with Lisa's double. You have to pound the bed hard nearly a dozen times, and even that does nothing to still your anger.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"It's too cold for a pool party," you grumble.<br/>
<br/>
"No one said you had to take off your shirt," Cindy says primly.<br/>
<br/>
"Why don't you take <i>yours</i> off," you retort. "I want these fuckers to see what kinda sugar cones I get to suck on and they don't."<br/>
<br/>
Cindy's grip on your hand tightens, and her nails dig into the back of your hand. Keith was being a bitch on the ride out, and he's being a bitch now, and he seems to be enjoying it. The two of you are laying close together on a very expensive pool chair, but the frosty chill against your skin has nothing to do with the early November weather and everything to do with his icy fury at being dragged to this thing in this guise. <br/>
<br/>
You look over at your "girlfriend." Her features are puffy with suppressed anger, and the breeze has disordered her hair. From this angle you can see her eyes behind her sunglasses, but she stares straight ahead rather than returning your glance. On the other side of her, in the next chair, is Kelsey Blankenship. She turns toward you, and a small, amused smile floats onto her lips. "Kelsey's listening to us," you murmur to Cindy.<br/>
<br/>
"So what'll she hear?" Cindy says in a voice that Kelsey can't help catching. <br/>
<br/>
"I don't want to cause any scenes in front of her," you hiss. "We've already got Lisa and Mansfield in trouble. We don't need to make life complicated for Seth and Cindy."<br/>
<br/>
Exactly the wrong argument to make. "Fuck you, Seth," Cindy screams. "I've had ... so much of your ... <i>shit!</i>" She wrestles her way out of the chair, and you lurch after her in surprise. "Don't touch me! Don't ever! Touch me! Again!" She stomps off toward the main house.<br/>
<br/>
You can't miss the half dozen eyes that discreetly turn in your direction as you gape after her. And you can't miss it when they turn away, and several conversations resume as though they hadn't been interrupted. But that's the atmosphere at Kristy Carlson's: you and Cindy are definitely the odd members.<br/>
<br/>
Oh, Kristy herself has been pleasant enough, though you can tell she is rather discomfited at having to entertain people she doesn't know. The welcome didn't improve when you appeared on the extensive back porch, which was heavily populated with Eastman athletes. Ian Carpenter was polite, but he's always polite, with that pussy "good sportsmanship" attitude of his. But the others just nodded at you and made no attempt to include you. Some of the girls eyed you curiously, but when one of them, a buxom African-American girl, approached, Keith perversely (and intentionally, you're sure) smothered the side of your neck with a kiss—to let the girl know you were off-limits. That left Kelsey as the only friendly person there, and she seemed none too pleased at being the lever that pried the door open for you. "When's Steve coming?" she'd bluntly asked, and her nostrils had flared when you told her that Patterson had decided not to.<br/>
<br/>
And here she is, still, and even though her eyes are shaded, you can tell she's very amused. Your hands flex, and you start to get up. "Don't be an idiot," she says. "Go find her later."<br/>
<br/>
You throw yourself back onto the chair. "Have any good gossip, Kelsey?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, and I'm trying to get away from it."<br/>
<br/>
"Glad to hear you're off duty." You glance back at the house. "We had a fight on the way out here. Just one of those things. We'll get it straightened out. Probably on the ride home."<br/>
<br/>
"Mm-hmm," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"What about you? You know any couples in trouble?" It occurs to you that she could be a prime source of information on Lisa.<br/>
<br/>
But again you've miscalculated. "For someone who doesn't want people to hear about <i>his</i> trouble, you seem pretty eager to hear about others," she says.<br/>
<br/>
You wince, and the cold breeze feels even chillier. You look around and rub your arm. "Yeah, well." You sigh deeply. "Maybe I should go find Cindy. Usually she <i>does</i> like it when I chase after her." You pick up her bag—which has the blank mask in it—and trot into the house.<br/>
<br/>
There are a couple of people in the kitchen, and a few more in the living room—one of the living rooms; the Carlsons seem to be very rich—and it's not until you return to the main foyer that you catch up to your companion. She's coming down the staircase, carrying herself very stiffly. "Okay, you had your fun," you say. "But we're here on a job. I helped you on yours, so why don't—"<br/>
<br/>
"Upstairs bathroom," she snaps. "That blonde guy is in there. Get him, and let's get out of here."<br/>
<br/>
"Blonde guy? You mean Straussler?"<br/>
<br/>
"The one you pointed out to me? Yeah."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Major score.</i> Jonathan Straussler isn't just a ball player, his family is filthy rich. "Give me ten minutes," you say, and dash past her up the stairs.<br/>
<br/>
You find a closed door in the hallway, and decide it must be the bathroom. You position yourself on the opposite side of the door frame; when Straussler comes out, he should turn with his back to you, and then you can grab him from behind. <br/>
<br/>
But then you hear voices, and from the other end of the hallway four figures emerge. One of them nods at you in greeting, and then they all disappear around a corner, to descend the staircase.<br/>
<br/>
Shit, <i>that</i> was Straussler. So who's in the bathroom?</span></div></div>


path: 1112312221221221211111222111122111
author_id: seuzz
title: A Lovers' Quarrel
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Freaking Keith. Can't he keep one blonde Eastman basketball player straight from another? You quickly trot back down the hall, and watch as Straussler and the others descend the staircase, passing a seemingly oblivious Cindy. You follow, but fetch up short when you reach your co-conspirator. "That was fast," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"<i>That</i> was Straussler," you hiss, nodding after the escaping target. "And he wasn't in the bathroom."<br/>
<br/>
"I can't keep these guys straight from each other," she says with a shrug, and you have to stop yourself from throttling her. "Come on, let's just get someone and go."<br/>
<br/>
"I can't just <i>mug</i> someone," you retort, "not with so many people around."<br/>
<br/>
"So take someone off alone," she retorts in her own turn. "You're making this too hard."<br/>
<br/>
"Let's just go out to the car," you say, and grasp her by the forearm. She pulls away. "We'll wait for someone to come out and get them then."<br/>
<br/>
"Fine. Whatever." She stalks on ahead of you.<br/>
<br/>
The Carlsons have a big house, set away from the other big houses in their area, so there's plenty of room for the many vehicles parked in front of it. You'd managed to snag a good place right in front, though, so anyone coming out will have to pass your truck as they leave. Probably it'll be awhile, but that's okay. A little talk with Keith won't go amiss. "I don't know why you keep fighting me," you growl as you get in the cab.<br/>
<br/>
"You're the one who's fighting <i>me,</i>" he says. "I just want to do this job and get it over with."<br/>
<br/>
"You think I don't? I'm the one who's supposed to be getting someone. You're just supposed to help, and you're not."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm trying to tell you how to do it!"<br/>
<br/>
"And I don't appreciate it! This would be lot less aggravating if you weren't acting like such a bitch." Keith crosses his arms and stares stonily ahead. "You're being too much in character. Was Cindy on the rag when you copied her?"<br/>
<br/>
That provokes him into turning on you. "And you're feeling cock-blocked! I know what you want, Will! You want me to spread my legs and let you fuck me! You wanted it yesterday, and got all pissy because I wouldn't play along!"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want to fuck you! Fuck you up, maybe, a little," you add in an undertone. "But I can't look at you without seeing Keith Tilley, and believe me, that kills a boner pretty fucking fast."<br/>
<br/>
His face freezes, and then slowly melts into a poisonously sweet smile. "Are you saying it's not a turn on when I do this?" Gently, he cups and lifts one of Cindy's breasts. "Don't you want to touch this? Don't you want to peel back my shirt and take it out and kiss and suck on it? Make the nipple hard?"<br/>
<br/>
"Gaaah!" You rear back and slam the steering wheel. "Yes, I want that! I want inside your panties, but not when it's <i>you</i> inside them! Are you saying <i>you'd</i> want to fuck me if <i>I</i> were dressed up as Cindy?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuckin' A, man, that's exactly what I'd want to do. And I <i>wouldn't,</i> because I'd know it was <i>your</i> ugly face underneath. It would make me crazy, and it's making <i>you</i> crazy!"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you!" you exclaim. "And I know what's driving <i>you</i> crazy. You can't stand Seth, and you can't stand being next to him and having to play like you're the horny girlfriend who's fucking him every afternoon, even though <i>that's exactly what they're doing!</i>" Keith turns very red. "You know that for a fact, dude. Right now, the two of them are off someplace and Seth is—" You arch your back and thrust your pelvis at the steering wheel "—all over Cindy's face. The face <i>you're</i> wearing right now! So you've got <i>that</i> going through your head and it—"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't have to listen to this," Keith snarls as he yanks the door open. "Go home. I'll stay here and do your fucking job for you!" <br/>
<br/>
But you grab him and pull him back so hard he yelps. "Stop it! You're <i>hurting</i> me!"<br/>
<br/>
"Damn right I am! <i>I'm</i> the one who's supposed to be doing this job. <i>You</i> weren't even supposed to be part of this team!" <br/>
<br/>
He snarls at you, and you ward off a wayward blow of a dainty hand.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, just calm down!" you yell. His eyes are wide and staring, and his nostrils flare, but you force yourself to cool off. "If you want to leave, you can leave. I'll stay here and finish the job. And I'll stay as Cindy. How about that?"<br/>
<br/>
The improvised offer catches your friend off guard, and he peers at you suspiciously.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. I don't have to do this job while being Seth. In fact—" You struggle to say the words. "You're right, all the stuff you were saying. Maybe these masks are wrong for us, on this job. Maybe I should be Cindy and you should be Seth. Things couldn't be any more fucked up for us if we swapped." <br/>
<br/>
Keith lowers his eyes. <br/>
<br/>
"So, how about we swap," you continue. "You take my truck and leave, and I'll go back in as Cindy. I'll get someone, and then get a ride back to Westside." You smile crookedly at him. "That's what you wanted to do yesterday, to Patterson, right? Prank him by swapping masks?"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, that's not a bad idea," he grumbles. "And I won't take off and leave you in the lurch." He pulls the door closed, and reaches for his face, then pauses. "We should do it separately, so that one of us is awake if someone comes out."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure," you say. "I'll go first, since you probably want to make Seth go away as fast as possible." He smiles faintly at that, and you slide down into the foot well, so you'll be hidden from view as you take your mask off.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You feel strangely calm as you awake; all the churning, violent emotions you'd been feeling are now only dim and abstract memories. You know what you were feeling, but for the life of you can't see why you should have been so worked up. You sniff and shake your head. Maybe it was all Javits' fault. You look up with a smile at Keith.<br/>
<br/>
But his back is to you. He's sitting up on his knees and turned toward the truck window. The window is down and—<br/>
<br/>
To your shock, you realize he is embracing and kissing someone, pulling them in tight. Cindy's long, straight hair sways lightly as his head shifts and bobbles. You crane to see past him, but can't make out who he is so lustfully engaged with. "Dude?" you croak.<br/>
<br/>
Without turning or breaking off, he raises a warning hand, and continues to deeply kiss the other person. You remain lodged down out of sight, watching with increasing discomfort. The fuck is going on?<br/>
<br/>
After a few minutes, Keith breaks off and releases the other person. Before you can catch sight of their face, they slip down out of sight. Quick as a flash, Keith opens the door and hops out. You raise yourself to watch, but can only see that he has grasped something heavy and is tugging it along the ground. Then he hops back into the cab. "Punch this sucker and let's get out of here," he says. "Go, now!" he shouts as you gape. You swallow, turn the key, engage the clutch, and pop out into the street.<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck was that?" you gasp after you're half a block away. <br/>
<br/>
"Sorry," he says. "I just saw the chance and grabbed it while you were out. Don't worry, we'll chalk it up as one of your kills." He holds up a mask. "Some dude came out, so I called him over. Rolled down the window and slapped this puppy on him as he came up."<br/>
<br/>
"And that kissing?"<br/>
<br/>
"I had to hold him up, keep him from falling over."<br/>
<br/>
"Who was it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Beats me." He turns the mask over. "Timothy Travis Johnson, it says. Is he a basketball player?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. Was he tall?"<br/>
<br/>
"Pretty tall. Not much of a kisser, but then he was unconscious."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Is Patterson here?" you ask as you step into the VIP room. You regret not calling, and still more regret not knocking, for Gordon Black is the only person in evidence. Luckily, he is dressed, and Chelsea is not in evidence. If she had been—<br/>
<br/>
"No," Gordon says brusquely, and looks back down at his work. He's got a mask in his lap, and you recognize that he is painting its inside with sealant. "Get out."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. I just came to drop off the latest mask." You hold it out uncertainly. "Timothy Johnson. Uh, basketball player at Eastman?" Gordon grunts, so you guess Keith managed to grab an acceptable target. "I guess I should leave it here for you to finish up?"<br/>
<br/>
He looks up with a frown, and you find you can't look away from his hard gaze. You stare at each other, and his frown turns into a sneer.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know why the <i>fuck</i> I should get stuck with the scut work," he says softly. "That should be <i>your</i> job."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, my job is getting you guys the masks, I think," you stammer.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't tell me your job," he growls back. "I'm running this show, just as much as Steve-o, and if I say your job is to do mine—" He clambers to his feet and drops his work onto the mat. "You know how to do this shit, right?" You gulp and nod. "Then do it. Finish up that one, then do yours." He pushes past you. "Lock up when you're done."<br/>
<br/>
A tremble passes through you after he's gone. <i>Well, if those are your orders.</i> You bend down and pick up the mask he was working on: CASSANDRA SUSAN HARPER. <i>Whoa. Cassie Harper?</i><br/>
<br/>
You sigh and glance around, then do a double take: The super-secret cabinet is unlocked.</span></div></div>


path: 11123122212212212111112221111221111
author_id: seuzz
title: Secrets and Promotions
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You take a deep breath and glance over your shoulder, then scurry over to the cabinet. Inside: <i>Hallelujah!</i> It's the book, along with half a dozen masks.<br/>
<br/>
Your heart pounds. There is no way you can make off with the book and not get caught. But if you copied out some of the key spells— Oh, but what if Gordon or Steve or Jason came back and caught you?<br/>
<br/>
You pace around in a tight circle, thinking furiously. You can't watch the parking lot from the window. If you had a look-out stationed down below—<br/>
<br/>
You pull out your cell phone and call Caleb. "Dude, it's me. Tell me you can turn loose from whatever it is your doing."<br/>
<br/>
There's dead silence for a moment, and when he speaks his voice sounds very strained. "Uh, not really."<br/>
<br/>
"This is really important, man. Important for all of us."<br/>
<br/>
"Can't you call Keith?"<br/>
<br/>
"I just spent the whole day with him, and we're not exactly feeling friendly with each other. Please come help me."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, what is it?"<br/>
<br/>
"I haven't got time to explain. I need you to drive over to the school. Call me when you hit the parking lot."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't take this the wrong way, dude, but I can't. Unless you're on fire and want me to come over and piss on you to put it out. That I'd do. Call Keith."<br/>
<br/>
"What the <i>fuck</i> is so—? You sound weird. Are you wearing a mask?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes," he says.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fuck.</i> "Bail. This is more important than any stupid job for Patterson."<br/>
<br/>
"No it isn't," he says, and the line goes dead.<br/>
<br/>
You start to hurl the phone at the wall, but catch yourself in time. <i>Must be getting his cock sucked.</i><br/>
<br/>
Your hands are shaking with rage and fear as you dial Keith—which maybe you should have done to start with. He grumbles at the sound of your voice, but agrees to return to the school.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"This is boring," Keith says. "I'm turning on the radio again."<br/>
<br/>
"I need to be able to hear you," you retort. "The radio will fuck things up."<br/>
<br/>
"Then talk to me. I'm just sitting down here with nothing to do."<br/>
<br/>
He's down in the parking lot, in his car, watching the street while you copy the sigils into the art sketchpad that you had him pick up on the way over.<br/>
<br/>
"And I'm trying to get these cockamamie sigils right." You double check one of the oddball curls in the book against the copy you're making. "I need all the concentration I can muster."<br/>
<br/>
"You can study and talk at the same time," Keith replies. "Why can't you do that now?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because that's just for a grade and I don't care. This is for our lives." You can't see Keith—he's down in the parking lot, in his car, and you only have his voice coming through the cell phone for company, but you can picture him rolling his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, how much longer is it going to be?"<br/>
<br/>
"Depends on whether Patterson or Black or someone shows up. I've only got a few more to do."<br/>
<br/>
"How many is 'a few'?"<br/>
<br/>
"Four."<br/>
<br/>
"And how many have you done?"<br/>
<br/>
"Three."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, bite me. I'll give a false alarm if that's the only way to get out of this."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, I won't copy them all. We don't need the one that turns people into golems."<br/>
<br/>
He's silent for a bit. "Why didn't you call Caleb," he asks when his tissue-thin supply of patience has run out.<br/>
<br/>
"I did, and he told me to fuck off. Apparently he's on a job."<br/>
<br/>
"Getting who?"<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up and let me finish, and then maybe we can use these spells to find out."<br/>
<br/>
Tilley continues to grumble, and you continue to work, and you wind up copying only four spells: the three that let you make masks, mind bands, sealant; and the one that binds masks to bands. You doubt you'll need to make a golem; you don't want to change anyone into a golem; and you've no familiarity with the seventh spell, the new one that Patterson uncovered. You glanced at the eighth spell briefly, just enough to see that it appears to be unreadable. That must be why Patterson hasn't progressed beyond it. <br/>
<br/>
It took nearly an hour and a half to do—and you had to cheat your way around the book's "copy protection" spell by writing down mnemonic devices and acrostics for the ingredients—but you now have a rough and ready version of the key spells.<br/>
<br/>
When that's done, you return the book to its cupboard and lock it away, then dismiss Keith. You finish up the two masks Gordon left for you, and then call Patterson. He doesn't give you a chance to explain about the extra work you had to do, and just directs you to leave the masks and take off.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"You finish that job yesterday," you glower at Caleb on Monday morning when you meet up at your lockers.<br/>
<br/>
He gives you a slit-eyed stare back. "Yeah, and thanks for almost fucking it up," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"You almost fucked <i>me</i> up," you retort. "Lucky thing Tilley could turn loose—"<br/>
<br/>
"Someone say my name?" Keith appears from behind you. <br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I was just about to tell Caleb about our little adventure yesterday. But maybe it can wait till after school. We probably have another 'club meeting'."<br/>
<br/>
"And what kind of club would have you fuckers as members," a voice says behind you. Tilley freezes at the sound, for you don't have to turn to recognize it as Seth Javits'. <br/>
<br/>
A brawny arm shoots out and grabs Keith by the collar. "It's been too long since we've hung out, Tilley," continues the guy you were pretending to be the other day. Then he grabs you. "You too, Prescott." He squeezes your neck in the crook of his elbow and hauls you, struggling, through the halls.<br/>
<br/>
Your mind spins in a panic. Javits is Keith's special bully. But after the past few days, with you pretending to be him— Your knees almost give out, for you have the horrible and unshakeable feeling that he has somehow found out what you've been doing with his face.<br/>
<br/>
The mass of students parts as Javits pushes through, until he comes to one of the boys' restrooms. He has you and Keith squeezed up inside his armpits so he kicks the door open. "I need PRIVACY!" he bellows at the top of his lungs to the few students inside, and no one meets your eyes as they shuffle out. Javits pushes you and Keith inside, then follows. He leans back against the door and smirks. <br/>
<br/>
"Message from the club presidents," he says. "You two fuckers need to get it in gear. Tilley, get your hands off your crotch and get Yumi. Prescott, you got a new assignment, and we want it done yesterday."<br/>
<br/>
Your head swims. "You're—" Tilley croaks, finding a voice you can't. "You're part of the club too?"<br/>
<br/>
"You're mostly right, but only mostly." Seth grins. "Try guessing my real name."<br/>
<br/>
Okay, that makes more sense, you decide. "Patterson."<br/>
<br/>
"Ding. That's one wrong answer." Seth holds up a finger.<br/>
<br/>
"Gordon?" Tilley asks.<br/>
<br/>
"That's two."<br/>
<br/>
"Lynch," you mutter.<br/>
<br/>
"Three strikes, you're out." He crosses his arms, and his grin widens.<br/>
<br/>
You stare, hardly believing it could be— "Caleb?" you whisper.<br/>
<br/>
"You already lost, but yeah." He flexes a bicep. "Like my new look? Cindy did."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck!" you exclaim. "You can't walk around school with Javits' face! What if the real one—"<br/>
<br/>
"Bzzt! Real one's taken care of. That's the main perk of being a senior member." He laughs as your jaw drops. "Yep. Finished my fifth job Saturday. The one <i>you</i> almost fucked up. So, <i>I</i> get to be Seth Javits, and Seth Javits gets put on ice, for as long as I want."<br/>
<br/>
Keith's jaw drops. "What. The. Shit? How—?" <br/>
<br/>
"That's classified, Tilley. But you gotta respect me, now, when I'm lookin' like this and when I ain't. Hell, <i>Lynch's</i> gotta respect me. Black and Patterson made <i>that</i> clear to the little—" He glowers. "And you guys need to get done, so you can get up to the senior level with me." He unzips his backpack. "Tilley needs to get Yumi. Will, your next job is to get Nurse Shaffer. You can do that today." He hands you a blank mask. "You'll walk into a door, get a bloody nose, and go to the nurse's office. Once there— Pop!" He mimes slapping a mask onto a face.<br/>
<br/>
"Eww," Keith says, speaking for you as well.<br/>
<br/>
"Nah, it's brilliant," Seth says. "You don't have to <i>wear</i> her face, unless you piss Patterson— or Black— or me— off. Just score a copy of her."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll take your word for it it's brilliant," you say. "But what do you mean I'm going to 'walk into a door'?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, like this."<br/>
<br/>
And then he punches you <i>hard</i> in the face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Freaking Caleb,</i> you think to yourself as you stagger down the hall, face turned high and a hand to your nose to stanch the bleeding. People jostle you, and you hear laughter. Maybe it has nothing to do with you, but you're sure it does. Sharks and blood, you bitterly reflect, and pray that the Molester doesn't catch sight or scent of you.<br/>
<br/>
So, Caleb is now a senior member, and is acting like an asshole to boot. Grimly, you find yourself toying with the notion of <i>not</i> telling him you've got your own copy of the book—and that you've already made up and are polishing a blank mask and mind strip.</span></div></div>


path: 11123122212212212111112221111221112
author_id: seuzz
title: Nursing Grudges
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You take a deep breath and glance over your shoulder, then scurry over to the cabinet. Inside: <i>Hallelujah!</i> It's the book, along with half a dozen masks.<br/>
<br/>
Your heart pounds. There is no way you can make off with the book and not get caught. Even standing here in front of the open door is a bad idea. What if Gordon or Steve or Jason suddenly walked in?<br/>
<br/>
The lock is laying on a nearby crate, and because you don't want Patterson to even <i>suspect</i> you've been inside the cabinet, you put it back onto the door and spin the dial. <br/>
<br/>
With a sigh you return to the mat and the work Gordon left for you. It doesn't take long, and when you're finished you call up Patterson. He just grunts when you tell him that Gordon left you with the job of sealing up the two new masks, and says he'll let you know later what your new target will be.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's early Sunday afternoon, and Patterson still hasn't called you with a new job, so you call up Caleb. "What's going on? Nothing? Wanna get together, see a movie? I got some free time."<br/>
<br/>
"Keith called and asked me to help him get Yumi. I said no."<br/>
<br/>
"So you're free too."<br/>
<br/>
"I mean it would be awkward if I spent time with you after telling him to fuck off."<br/>
<br/>
"He deserves it. He was a cunt yesterday, and it wasn't just Cindy's, if you know what I mean."<br/>
<br/>
But Caleb continues to demur, and you hang up without making plans. You briefly toy with calling Keith and offering to help him out with Yumi. But you don't want to waste a free day. After a bit more calling around, you finally manage to make plans with Carson Ioeger and James Lamont, and wind up at the mall. It only proves there is more than one way to waste a Sunday.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"I hope <i>you</i> had fun at least," you tell Caleb on Monday morning when you meet up at your lockers.<br/>
<br/>
"I did homework," he says without looking back at you. "Did you get together with Tilley?"<br/>
<br/>
"Someone say my name?" Keith appears from behind you. <br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. How are you doing with your project?"<br/>
<br/>
He makes a face. "A little help would be nice," he mutters.<br/>
<br/>
"Better think of an excuse before the end of school," you warn him. "We'll probably have a club meeting."<br/>
<br/>
"And what kind of club would have you fuckers as members," a voice says behind you. Tilley freezes, for you don't have to turn to recognize it as Seth Javits'. His arm shoots out and he pulls Keith close. "It's been too long since we've hung out, Tilley," he continues, and then he grabs you. "You too, Prescott." He squeezes your neck in the crook of his elbow and hauls you, struggling, through the halls.<br/>
<br/>
Your mind spins in a panic. Javits is Keith's special bully; he hardly ever pays attention to you. But after the past few days, with you pretending to be him— Your knees almost give out, for you have the horrible and unshakeable feeling that he has somehow found out what you've been doing.<br/>
<br/>
The mass of students parts as Javits pushes through, until he comes to one of the boys' restrooms. "I need PRIVACY!" he bellows at the top of his lungs to the few students inside, and no one meets your eyes as they shuffle past and out the door. Javits releases you and Keith with a shove, then leans back against the door and smirks at the two of you. <br/>
<br/>
"Message from the club presidents," he gloats. "You two fuckers need to get it in gear. Tilley, get your hands off your crotch and get Yumi. Prescott, you got a new assignment, and we want it done yesterday."<br/>
<br/>
Your head swims. "You're—" Tilley croaks, finding a voice you can't. "You're part of the club?"<br/>
<br/>
"You're mostly right, but only mostly," Seth grins. "Try guessing my real name."<br/>
<br/>
Okay, that makes more sense, you decide. "Patterson."<br/>
<br/>
"One wrong answer." Seth holds up a finger.<br/>
<br/>
"Gordon?" Tilley asks.<br/>
<br/>
"That's two."<br/>
<br/>
"Lynch," you mutter.<br/>
<br/>
"Three strikes, you're out." He crosses his arms, and his grin widens.<br/>
<br/>
You stare, hardly believing it could be— "Caleb?" you whisper.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah!" He flexes a bicep. "Like my new look? Cindy did."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck!" you exclaim. "You can't walk around school with Javits' face! What if the real one—"<br/>
<br/>
"Bzzt! Real one's taken care of. That's the main perk of being a senior member." He laughs as your jaw drops. "Yep. Finished my fifth job Saturday. The one <i>you</i> almost fucked up. So, <i>I</i> get to be Seth Javits, and Seth Javits gets put on ice, for as long as I want."<br/>
<br/>
Keith's jaw drops. "What. The. Shit? How—?" <br/>
<br/>
"That's classified, Tilley. But you gotta respect me, now, when I'm lookin' like this and when I ain't. Hell, <i>Lynch's</i> gotta respect me. Black and Patterson made <i>that</i> clear to the little—" He glowers. "And you guys need to get done, so you can get up to the senior level with me." He unzips his backpack. "Tilley needs to get Yumi. Will, your next job is to get Nurse Shaffer. You can do that today." He hands you a blank mask. "You'll walk into a door, get a bloody nose, and go to the nurse's office. Once there— Pop!" He mimes slapping a mask onto a face.<br/>
<br/>
"Eww," Keith says, speaking for you as well.<br/>
<br/>
"Nah, it's brilliant," Seth says. "You don't have to <i>wear</i> her face, unless you piss Patterson— or Black— or me— off. Just score a copy of her."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll take your word for it it's brilliant," you say. "But what do you mean I'm going to 'walk into a door'?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, like this."<br/>
<br/>
And then he punches you <i>hard</i> in the face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"What do you mean you walked into a door?" Nurse Shaffer asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I walked. Into. A door." You tilt your head back. "Uno dooro me vamanos entrada. Un belle doorette me valse avec. Ning-nong ching-chong ding-dong—"<br/>
<br/>
"Cut the sarcasm, boyo, or I'll hit you in the face with a door of my own." The school nurse swabs at your lip. "That's what happened, isn't it? Someone swung a door at you? Who'd you lip off to?"<br/>
<br/>
"Someone who deserved it." You flinch as she shoves a cotton roll up one nostril. "Is it broken?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, and I'll tell you to your face you're a pussy for coming to see me." You glance down the bridge of your nose—which whatever she says seems tilted at a novel angle—and look at her. She's in her forties, faded and worn and not pretty—if she ever was—and what the hell is she doing using language like "pussy"? "If that hurts, you've led a sheltered life," she adds.<br/>
<br/>
"What is this, an army hospital? You more used to tucking guys' guts back inside them?"<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe you've just got a test you're trying to get out of," she says. "I'm not here to pass out baby aspirin to everyone with a tummy ache and a pop calculus quiz. If you want a medical excuse, we'll step into the next room and give you a full examination. Strip you down to and then out of your underwear."<br/>
<br/>
"That's okay," you reply. "Can you sign me some kind of hall pass or something so I can get to class?"<br/>
<br/>
She turns back toward her desk. Quickly you dart a hand into your open bag and hop off the table. Your head swims as you lower your face and approach her from behind, but she doesn't see or hear you before you've slipped the mask over her face from behind. She falls back into your arms, and you hold her awkwardly while using your feet to pull a chair out so you can drop her into it. That done, you close the and lock the office door, and fervently hope no one tries to get in.<br/>
<br/>
Minutes pass. Voices approach and recede. Other voices approach, and your heart hammers in your chest, for these appear to stop right outside the door. Abruptly they break off, and silence descends. The clock on the wall ticks.<br/>
<br/>
And then a clatter from the desk tells you the mask has reappeared. Gingerly, you pick it up and dash over to the door. Wooziness washes over you, and you pause with your hand on the knob to collect yourself, then open it.<br/>
<br/>
Patterson turns in the doorway and stares down at you. You stifle a yelp.<br/>
<br/>
He smiles thinly. "It's about time. I've been standing guard out here forever."<br/>
<br/>
"Guh— Yeah." You hand him the mask, and he tucks it under his letterman jacket. "Thanks for keeping watch. Uh, you have another job for me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Eager to get the last one done, huh? I thought sending Johansson around would light a fire under you guys." You shrug, not wanting to seem too keen. "Can you skip this period?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm already late, so I might as well."<br/>
<br/>
He pushes you back into the nurse's office, then steps in and closes the door behind him.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll give you a choice," he says. "First possibility: You step in for Nurse Shaffer. Become her. You'll run her office all this week." You gasp and a shudder runs through you. "That'll make it easy to get people," Patterson continues. "Anyone who comes in, you just put them on the examination table and drop a mask onto them. Totally normal for people to pass out in here. You collect everyone who comes in, all week, and on Friday you graduate to the senior level."<br/>
<br/>
"What's the other possibility?" you ask, dreading that it will be even worse.<br/>
<br/>
"You use Johnson's mask, the one you got Saturday, to get me fifteen Eastman students."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Fifteen?</i>" <br/>
<br/>
"Fifteen Easties, or Nurse Diesel over there. Which one is it gonna be, Prescott?"<br/>
<br/>
"How come Caleb got all the easy jobs?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fifteen Easties, or Nurse Diesel," he repeats, and his expression hardens.</span></div></div>


path: 111231222122122121111122211112211121
author_id: seuzz
title: The Promotion
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You glance back at the unconscious Nurse Shaffer, and shudder. Fifteen masks sounds like an impossible order, but it's better than the alternative. "Fifteen Easties," you mutter.<br/>
<br/>
"Smart pick," he says. "We'll leave Nursie's job to Tilley." He puts an arm around your shoulder and guides you back out into the hall. "Your job is a big one, but you'll like it. Trust me. Now get back to class. I'll call you in a day or two when things are ready for you to make the move to Eastman."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Move</i> to Eastman?" you ask, but he just punches you on the shoulder and saunters off. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Why weren't you at the team meeting?" Keith asks you the next day at lunch.<br/>
<br/>
"No one told me there was one," you reply.<br/>
<br/>
"Lucky bastard," Keith grumbles. "It was just me and Patterson and Johansson, yelling at me because of Yumi. It's not my fault!"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sitting right here, you know," Caleb says, speaking around his sandwich.<br/>
<br/>
"No, you're not," Keith retorts. "You're off with Patterson and Black and Lynch at the fucking jock table."<br/>
<br/>
"Must be nice to be me," Caleb says sarcastically. "You know, when Patterson showed me Javits, all sprawled out on the floor of the fuck room, and said I could take his place, I was really pretty excited. Imagine my disappointment when I woke up and found I was still myself."<br/>
<br/>
You and Keith exchange a glance. "Are you saying you really are Caleb," you ask.<br/>
<br/>
He chews thoughtfully, and swallows. "I dunno, maybe I am," he says. "<i>I</i> can't tell the difference. Except that I have to do what Javits tells me."<br/>
<br/>
"You don't suppose—" you start to say, but Keith blows a raspberry.<br/>
<br/>
"I was up there yesterday, remember," he says. "They took this fucker's face off and showed me how it worked. That's Javits under Caleb's face, there. I'd love to punch him, but he's asleep under there, and wouldn't feel it."<br/>
<br/>
"Not to mention even a fake Caleb could totally take you in a fight," you tell him. He flips you off.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, just remember that I totally feel like Caleb Johansson," the other one says, turning a little red. "You guys are going to do the same thing, and there's gonna be copies of <i>you</i> walking around feeling totally like you. So be nice to them."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Except I'll be at Eastman,</i> you think to yourself, for you're starting to glimpse what Patterson's plan must be. Keith, meanwhile, takes a big bite from his apple. "I wonder who I'll get to be," he says.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Nurse Shaffer,</i> you chuckle to yourself. "A girl," you tell him with a mischievous smile. "Blonde."<br/>
<br/>
"You think?"<br/>
<br/>
"I <i>know.</i> Patterson told me yesterday. He's already got her picked out."<br/>
<br/>
"Who?" Keith's eyes shine.<br/>
<br/>
"You'll see. You'll never see it coming. Trust me."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The thrill associated with going up the fuck room has long since evaporated; no,  these days you feel dread. So when you step into the loft that evening, to find Patterson standing in the usual spot, you just shrug and say, "Okay, I guess I'm ready."<br/>
<br/>
"Over here," a voice calls, and you look over to find another Steve Patterson bending over the dorm fridge. "You like my double?" he adds. "<i>I</i> think he's sexy."<br/>
<br/>
The other Patterson eyes you coolly, and gives a quick smile.<br/>
<br/>
"You'd like to have this body, wouldn't you, Prescott?" he says. You flush, and he continues. "Don't tell me you haven't fantasized about cradling this cock in your hands and— Ow! Fucker!" he yells as a heavy can bounces off the side of his face.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't pay any attention to his shit," the real Steve says. "He always lips off when I let him out. He's Jealous 'cos I only let him out when I'm aiming to have some fun. Although this time <i>he</i> gets to have the fun, so I don't know why he's complaining." The other Patterson shrugs and scowls. "Anyway, you can take off now," Steve tells him. "Don't do anyone I wouldn't do."<br/>
<br/>
"That really cuts down the possibilities." The fake laughs, and brushes past you.<br/>
<br/>
You look back furtively at Patterson, uncertain if he wants to acknowledge what the golem said. He pulls at his nose.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, self-knowledge is a bitch," he murmurs. "Okay, Prescott," he continues more loudly. "Here's a beer for one hand, and a mask for the other." He tosses two heavy objects at you, and you barely manage to grab onto both. "Put it on. The mask I mean. The beer can wait."<br/>
<br/>
"Whose is it?" <br/>
<br/>
"Yours. Well, it's gonna be. Come on, step lively. We got a lot of ground to cover."<br/>
<br/>
Blanching at the knowledge that you're putting yourself at his mercy while the mask copies your most recent memories, you flop onto the ground and put it to your face ...<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"You'd really like to be sitting here, running things like this, wouldn't you?" he says. He looks just like you, and he's even wearing your clothes, because he pulled them off you while you were unconscious. But though the face is Will Prescott's, the wearer is Steve Patterson.<br/>
<br/>
You pull your bare knees tighter to your chin. You'd not suspected he was going to put the mask on himself. You're glad you resisted the urge to rummage through the secret cabinet when you had the chance.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you are going to be running things, in a manner of speaking," he says, "for the next week. I'll be stepping in for you while you're at Eastman." He pulls another mask from behind himself. "Here's Johnson's mask. His clothes are over there." He tilts his chin.<br/>
<br/>
"What about the real Johnson?"<br/>
<br/>
"You saw him earlier. That was him under my mask. Like what we did with Caleb and Seth. Same deal. We put some stuff into it so that Johnson passed out. All he is is a mobile whatchacallit—" He glances over his shoulder at the golem. "So you'll step into his life, take over for him, for at least a week. Maybe longer, depending on how you do."<br/>
<br/>
"While I get those fifteen masks, you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"Three, actually. Or eighteen. It depends on how you look at it." His chuckle is a hiss—just like yours is. "You're actually getting an early promotion, sort of, and you're going to be higher up than Caleb, so stop being a jealous jackass. I'm the president of the Westside Bodysnatcher Club, and you're going to be president of the Eastman branch. Still junior to me, I guess, but pretty much it's gonna be your show over there."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean, the Eastman branch?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just what I said. We'll soon have Westside totally wired. I want the same thing at Eastman. I can't be in two places at once, so you'll be in charge over there. <i>If</i> you pull off the final job."<br/>
<br/>
"Which is what, exactly?" This is getting confusing.<br/>
<br/>
He leans back.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't take this the wrong way," he says, "but there's no way I could have managed what we got here without you three dipshits—you and Johansson and Tilley—doing the grunt work. You're going to pull off the same thing at Eastman. You're going to get three dipshits of your own out there. Pick some losers, show them the masks and how they work, make yourself a squad like I did with you three. Put 'em through the paces, make 'em work, like I made you guys work. Make them get fifteen masks, with the promise of 'senior' level at the end of it." He smiles. "They'll be your crew, and you'll be their boss, just like I'm the boss at this school."<br/>
<br/>
You stare. <i>Holy crap, is he serious?</i> He sure seems to be. Your eyes drift up. You, in charge of a team, the way Patterson had been, with the same school-conquering agenda. "What kind of masks am I supposed to be getting?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"It's your pick. But you'll want pussy, right? So get lots of girls. The cheerleaders, like that. Thing is, you're going to have to get some guys, too, so you can get to some of the girls. Like, if there's a hot girl and she has a boyfriend, you might have to get the boyfriend. Or get some guys who are always scoring pussy. If fucking Jason ever got ahold of Delacroix, for instance—" He turns moody for a moment, then brightens again. "Think strategically. It's like a network. Don't waste time on the margins, get the people who are at the center of lots of stuff. When you've got the fifteen most centered people, you can get anyone else you could possibly want."<br/>
<br/>
You suck on your teeth. "The guys I pick, the junior members, I mean. Do I tell them who I really am?"<br/>
<br/>
He shakes his head, then hesitates, then shakes his head again.<br/>
<br/>
"It'd be a bad idea," he says. "Again, don't take this the wrong way, but you don't got a lot of authority. Johnson does. He was, like, class president last year, and he's on a varsity squad. People listen to him, do what he says. Find guys you can push around. Guys like Tilley."<br/>
<br/>
"Or me," you can't help adding.<br/>
<br/>
He just grins. "Also, you've got a deadline. One week to get your junior club set up. I don't mean the full set of fifteen masks. I mean the three guys. Bring me masks of them by Sunday, so I can look them over. If you can't cut it, I'll have to put Johansson or Tilley in for you."<br/>
<br/>
"Shouldn't be too hard," you say. <i>There's got to be lots of losers over at Eastman.</i><br/>
<br/>
"One more thing," he says as he saunters over to the secret cabinet. "You're going to need the book. Keep it over at the old elementary school by my—" He catches himself. "By our house. So we can both have access to it." His eyes gleam as he takes it out. "I'm glad to see I can trust you with it."</span></div></div>


path: 1112312221221221211111222111122111211
author_id: seuzz
title: The Life of Timothy Johnson
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Fleetingly, the thought that you <i>could</i> double-cross Patterson flashes through your mind, but you put it aside. This really does seem to be a sign that you have arrived, and that he is willing to treat you as a peer and not just a subordinate.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, better get changed," the other you says. "I don't remember if Johnson has places to go and girls to do, but meeting up with me was <i>not</i> on his agenda for today."<br/>
<br/>
"Am I supposed to keep this a secret from Caleb and Keith?" you ask as you pick up the new mask.<br/>
<br/>
Patterson runs his tongue along his bottom lip.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I can't stop you," he says. "But they might get kind of jealous. Maybe you should keep it quiet until you get your team picked out. I won't play any mind games with them—" He flashes a quick, mischievous smile. "I'll just tell them I'm covering for you while you're out on a tricky job."<br/>
<br/>
"That sounds pretty good, I guess." You take a deep breath and drop to the floor. "Well, here goes ..."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Patterson has already left by the time you wake up, though he has left three blank masks behind. You sit up with a start and glance up and down at yourself. There's no mirror, but— Strong arms and legs. Nicely developed chest. Flat stomach. You clench your fists and grunt, then scramble over to the clothes. Wrinkled boxers, ankle socks, loose-cut jeans, white t-shirt and a short-sleeve button-down shirt (which you don't tuck in) and sneakers. Downstairs, in the car, you check yourself out in the rear-view mirror, even though you know what you'll find: hazel eyes framing a strong but not overly prominent nose and a wide mouth that relaxes easily into a smile; short, sandy hair that lays down flat without fighting you. It's an open, trustworthy face, that of a dependable, loyal friend. A little gleam comes into your eye: Timothy Johnson is just about the last person anyone would suspect of treachery.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"I'm home," you shout as you let the door slam behind you.<br/>
<br/>
"Julianna called!" your mother shouts back from the living room. "She says she couldn't get you on your phone."<br/>
<br/>
"I had it in my bag." You step into the living room, where you find Leah Johnson on her laptop. "Am I picking up supper for us?"<br/>
<br/>
"If you don't mind," she says. "Money is on the end table by the door. Get one of those rotisserie chickens from the Valu-Mart."<br/>
<br/>
"Chips, potato salad, what kind of sides?"<br/>
<br/>
"Ask your sister. I forget what her latest ethical stance is."<br/>
<br/>
You grin and lean over her shoulder to peer at the screen: another email to the district councilman. "You wouldn't let your children starve while you're out saving the wilderness area, would you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Your sister may starve yet, the way she keeps adding to her list of things she won't eat."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll buy her a gun, and she can eat free-range out."<br/>
<br/>
"You're turning out more and more like your father with each passing day," she replies, and you know she doesn't mean it as a compliment. You mollify her with a quick peck to the cheek, and swagger off down the hall. You fling your kit into the room on one side while rapping hard at the door on the other. "Jade! I'm starving! Tell me what you want for dinner!" There's a scrambling sound and low voices from inside. "Jade!" you call again. "Come on, quit screwing around!"<br/>
<br/>
The door opens a little, and Jade Johnson peers out: a long, narrow face made narrower by long, black hair that drapes down each side of it. You look at her with a tight smile, then glance up to see her "soul mate," Derek, slouching against the window sill on the far side of the room, arms crossed, glaring darkly back at you. <br/>
<br/>
"What are you picking up?" Jade asks in a sullen tone.<br/>
<br/>
"Rotisserie chicken," you reply. "What do you want with it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Crap," she says: a word that effortlessly combines her world view, her opinion of rotisserie chicken, and her reaction to dinner plans. "Whatever."<br/>
<br/>
"I can pick you up some veal or seal," you josh. "Mmm. Freshly clubbed baby seal." She doesn't even react. "Potato salad? Canned corn? What?" you ask more seriously.<br/>
<br/>
"Processed crap," she replies. "Get whatever you want."<br/>
<br/>
"Is <i>he</i> eating with us?" You glance back up at Derek.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll take supper in my room."<br/>
<br/>
"That doesn't answer my—"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck off." She slams the door.<br/>
<br/>
You chuckle grimly to yourself, even though it's not funny, just stupid. As far as you can see, Derek Forney is a ninth-grade nihilist preying on middle school girls like Jade, and probably picked Jade out precisely because she was Timothy's sister. Part of Timothy wants to thrash him, but that would just make him into a martyr and piss Jade off. The other part of Timothy just wants to laugh at and ignore the little beast. Obviously, he's chasing after vulnerable girls because he thinks he'd have no chance with anyone who is actually—<br/>
<br/>
You pause in mid-stride on the way back out to your car. There's a thought there. An ambitious, unscrupulous and deeply insecure little prick like Derek Forney might be just the kind of person who would grab the advantages the masks would give. On the drive out to the supermarket you play with the idea of making him one of your subordinates, testing it against your gut.<br/>
<br/>
Inside the market, though, you take out your phone. Yeah, there's a missed call from Julianna. There's also one from your dad, but you can put that off for later. "Sorry I missed you," you tell Julianna when she picks up. "My phone was at the bottom of my kit."<br/>
<br/>
"No emergency. I just wanted to see if you were free to grab something to eat."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm grabbing something right now. I'm in the frozen food aisle at the store. Talk to me, and I'll start defrosting the pizzas."<br/>
<br/>
She giggles, then sighs. "Not a big deal. Has Jonathan said anything more about, you know, Christmas plans?"<br/>
<br/>
"I think he was just making noise," you say as you pull out a bag of frozen veggies.<br/>
<br/>
"I'd <i>love</i> a ski trip," she moans. "If he's <i>serious</i> about that—"<br/>
<br/>
"Straussler's never serious about anything until it happens," you caution her. "You can't work him into inviting you or me along. If it happens, it'll happen, and it's almost three months away."<br/>
<br/>
"I know. Maybe I should start hanging out with Monique."<br/>
<br/>
You snort, and saunter around the corner into the bread aisle. "Stop campaigning," you tell Julianna. "It's not another election. You already won one election, you don't need—"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, if <i>you'd</i> campaigned more you'd have got the senior class presidency."<br/>
<br/>
"Kade's doing fine." That's what you say out loud, though some of Timothy's own thoughts well up unbidden. <i>If I hadn't let you talk me into running the senior/junior elections as a "team ticket" of boyfriend and girlfriend, I probably would have gotten elected. Oh, hell, even without that "ticket" idea, your running probably would have cost me the senior presidency, just because people hated the idea of a couple at the top. But I wanted you to succeed me in the junior class post, so I've only got myself to blame.</i><br/>
<br/>
"What did you say?" she says. "You were muttering."<br/>
<br/>
"I was asking someone where the the pickle aisle is," you hurriedly say. "What were <i>you</i> saying?"<br/>
<br/>
"I was saying that Kade's doing fine because he doesn't know what to do with the job, and no one notices. They'd notice <i>you</i> in the job because you'd know what to do with it."<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks for your vote." <br/>
<br/>
"Early and often. We gonna get together tomorrow for a little one-on-one lobbying?"<br/>
<br/>
You catch yourself just before agreeing. "I dunno. That meeting I had this afternoon, it was for a little extracurricular activity. I might have to do something tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
"Really? What?"<br/>
<br/>
"Mentoring." <i>Yeah, that's the ticket.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Ooh, I could help out with <i>that!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, lemme see how it works out. It's a new kind of thing, and it might be a crock of— A waste of time." The old lady walking past continues to eye you carefully, and you blush. "Listen, I got people staring at me. You know, public conversations and such. I'll call you later on when I need a distraction."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Derek <i>does</i> eat at the house—in Jade's room—and you <i>do</i> call Julianna later on, and you <i>do</i> play with your new cock after you've gone to bed. (You and Timothy both wonder what it would be like to do it with Julianna.) You're up early the next morning and at the school for pre-class basketball practice. It's a hard session, but fun, drilling with the other players. You find yourself weighing each as a possible mask: Ian Carpenter, the team captain; Jonathan Straussler, the rich jock; the two new guys, Joe and Frank Durras. But you judge it would be girls that would best attract recruits: Jenny Taylor, the girls' soccer captain; Alyssa Randal, the head cheerleader; the other cheerleaders, like Becky Torres and Jessica Pearce. Several times you have be bend and rest your hands on your knees, not because you're winded, but to hide your hard-on.<br/>
<br/>
But these really ought to be secondary questions. The first is, where will you find your recruits?</span></div></div>


path: 11123122212212212111112221111221112112
author_id: seuzz
title: A Prize Booby
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>After a night of sleeping on it, you are much less taken with the idea of building a team around Derek Forney. The kid is just too sleazy, and you've a bad feeling he would be looking for ways to knife you in the back. It would be much safer to use someone stupider, quieter, easier to push around.<br/>
<br/>
Second period you find your guy.<br/>
<br/>
It's a biology class, and you're paired for lab work with Matt Isaacs. You—Timothy Johnson, now—know Matt vaguely from that class and a bunch of others. He's nothing to look at; mostly people prefer to <i>not</i> look directly at him. He's pasty faced with a bad complexion; dark hair fashioned by a cheap barber into something not ambitious enough to even be a bowl haircut; and fat. Not even the charitable word "pudgy" can describe him, and it's the kind of fat that sags and hangs. The guy is well aware of what he look like, too, and wanders the halls and sits in desks with a hunched and furtive air, declining to look others in the face. He doesn't like to talk.<br/>
<br/>
And yet the times Timothy has talked to him, he has found him quite intelligent. He's well-read and gets good grades. He has a placid temper. And he has friends. The latter is an important point, of course, for your plans.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, Pinocchio, you in there?" call as you prop open the mouth of the shark you're supposed to dissect. Matt's lips curl into a very small smile, very briefly. "Only one way to find out," you continue. "You want to do the cutting, or leave it to me?"<br/>
<br/>
"You can do it," Matt say. "I'll sketch."<br/>
<br/>
You take up a knife and with a grimace hold the shark down with your other hand. The thing reeks of formaldehyde. "That's probably best," you agree. "I've seen your sketches, man. You're pretty good."<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks." He cranes his neck and belches softly as he gets his own snootful of chemicals. "Just doodles."<br/>
<br/>
"I like some of those faces. You're good at faces and heads." You grunt: the knife just slides off the thick, tough scales as you jab at the shark. "You should draw some girls."<br/>
<br/>
"I do draw girls."<br/>
<br/>
"I mean real girls. From life. They'd like that." You finally jam the knife in just under the jaw, and glance up at Matt. "Could make you popular."<br/>
<br/>
His muscles seem to crawl around under the skin of his face. "I think they'd think it was creepy."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you don't just sit in the back of the room or on the other side of the cafeteria and do it. That <i>would</i> be creepy." Your arm trembles as you saw through the flesh with the dull blade; it advances it fits and starts, and sometimes twists out of the cut entirely. "And you don't just barge up and ask them if you can draw them. But if you're sitting at a table with some girls, just start sketching them, and show it to them while you're doing it. Make sure to offer it to them when you're done." You wipe your forehead. "Dammit, this thing is impossible. How about you sketch a 'Before' picture while I take a break?"<br/>
<br/>
"Giving up so soon, Mr. Johnson?" says Mr. Zigler, who is standing right behind you.<br/>
<br/>
You start to frame a retort, then just take up the knife again. Zigler watches a moment, then hands you the scissors. Matt suppresses a snicker. "Go ahead and laugh if you want," you cheerfully retort. "I don't care. And I'm serious about you doing the sketch thing. It'd be fun for you."<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs. "I don't sit around with many girls."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I can fix that." <i>Snip. Snip.</i> The scissors are easier to wield, but it's still a tough job. "I'll invite you over to sit with me and some of the girls I know. You don't even have to talk. Just listen, and then take out some paper and start doodling." You smile at him. He smiles back.<br/>
<br/>
You look back down at your work just in time for the face-hugger to explode out of the shark's chest.<br/>
<br/>
You fling the scissors halfway across the room. "Jesus!" Matt shouts. "The fuck?" The rest of the room falls deathly silent. You can't answer, for you're still recovering from the shock. In fact, it's not until you feel Zigler's hand on your shoulder that you can point to the thing.<br/>
<br/>
It's not actually a face-hugger, or any kind of alien. It's just a fish. The head of a fish, actually. Even then, it takes you a moment to figure out what must have happened: In cutting along the gullet you finally hit the stomach, and the shark's last meal—completely undigested—had been wedged up inside. When you opened the slit, it popped out like a jack-in-the-box. The thing is now staring you in the face with cold eyes and a mouth gaping with what looks like terror. You snap your own mouth closed when you realize you're probably looking just as stricken.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it's a twofer for you, isn't it, gentlemen?" says Zigler.<br/>
<br/>
You and Matt look at each other; and you both start to grin; and then you're both giggling and snorting uncontrollably.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
That pretty much nails down your choice of initial conspirator. But you still need bait for him. The answer to that problem comes bouncing in at lunch. "Omigod!" Becky Torres exclaims as she drops down at the lunch table, her eyes shining excitedly. "I totally bombed the Chem quiz. Forty percent!"<br/>
<br/>
"So why are you so happy?" Kyle Lakewood asks.<br/>
<br/>
"It's a personal record! I've never done that bad before!"<br/>
<br/>
"I think you need a tutor," Jenny Taylor says.<br/>
<br/>
"I volunteer." Joe Durras grins from two seats away. <br/>
<br/>
"And what did <i>you</i> get on the quiz?" asks Joe's brother, Frank, who is sitting next to you.<br/>
<br/>
"Twenty-eight. So, you know, her and me would average out to, like, a D."<br/>
<br/>
"How do you figure that?" Kyle demands.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you add the scores together, right? So—"<br/>
<br/>
"And then divide them by two!"<br/>
<br/>
Joe looks shocked. "Why would I wanna do that? Then I'd have, like, a ten."<br/>
<br/>
"When we were children," Frank says, swirling the milk in his carton like it's wine in a glass, "I was always the one who divided our nutritional portions. That's why I turned out bigger, stronger, and taller."<br/>
<br/>
"It just turned to fat inside your head," Joe sneers.<br/>
<br/>
"It's called a brain, Joe."<br/>
<br/>
"It's called 'Shut up', you—!"<br/>
<br/>
"I can help you," you interject. Becky turns her watery blue eyes on you. "How about tonight at seven, at the library?"<br/>
<br/>
She agrees, dimpling madly. Frank nudges you. "Is that such a smart thing?" he murmurs. "I mean ... You got Julianna."<br/>
<br/>
"Julianna'll be there with us," you murmur back. "I'm not stupid."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe not, but it still sounds crazy."<br/>
<br/>
No, you're not crazy. You've told Becky to meet you at seven. You'll tell Julianna to be there at eight.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"I stashed some more supplies for you over in the clubhouse," Patterson says when he puts in the surprise call to you at around five. <br/>
<br/>
"Awesome. Thanks."<br/>
<br/>
"You better thank me," he retorts. "Your dad flipped out at me this afternoon, because you've been running around all over the place and are never at home. I had to whine really hard, and beat that idiot brother of yours when he started making fun of me afterward."<br/>
<br/>
"Go to town on him with my blessing."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, I can't, not the way I want, not with these boiled noodles you call arms. Anyway, yeah, when you got time and I don't have to suck up to Dad, we should meet over there so I can show you the stuff. But one thing over there is a golem. You know, the one you made before— Um, the whole Jeremy fiasco?" You wince. "Yeah, I took it away from you? Well, I put it back. I figured you could use it."<br/>
<br/>
"Dude, I'll suck your cock for that!"<br/>
<br/>
"Really?" He laughs. "Hey, lemme just get outta my pants and you can phone sex me a blow job right now."<br/>
<br/>
You ignore him—with Timothy Johnson's brain folded up inside yours, you aren't nearly as impressed with Patterson as you had been before.<br/>
<br/>
"I got a prospect," you tell him, "and I got a girl. Him, girl, golem, and bang! I'll have a team together in no time."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, just be careful who you choose. Don't let it blow up in your face."<br/>
<br/>
"He's perfect. Fat, horny, ugly, has a terrible self-image. And I actually kind of like him, because he's a nice guy."<br/>
<br/>
Patterson guffaws. "He sounds like a prize boob. Put him in a mask before I meet him, if you don't mind. I don't want to look at what you're describing."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
After you hang up you have dinner with your mom and sister; it's the latter's turn to clean up, so you've got time to think while putting your stuff together for the meeting with Becky.<br/>
<br/>
Patterson gave you three masks as a starter set. You will need one for Becky. But what about the other two? Save them for more girls, or use them to start the collection of masks of your new teammates? You decide you should save one for Matt—it will be immediately useful for learning what he thinks and wants. Also, it can't help but occur to you, for some protective espionage. Wasn't that what Patterson did to you?<br/>
<br/>
So maybe you should also use the third mask on the next recruit. On the other hand, showing them that they collect multiple girls—by showing Matt and his friend or friends two such masks—could make the enterprise look even more enticing.</span></div></div>


path: 111231222122122121111122211112211121121
author_id: seuzz
title: Fun with Girls
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're still undecided when you head out to the library, where you are surprised—and annoyed—to see that Becky has not showed up alone: Alyssa Randal is with her. "Are you taking Chem?" you ask as you set your bag down on the table. The masks clink inside it.<br/>
<br/>
"Do I look like an idiot?" she says.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, if you need tutoring—"<br/>
<br/>
"I mean, I'm not stupid enough to take it."<br/>
<br/>
"So why are you here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Aren't you happy to see me?" She smiles.<br/>
<br/>
You smile back, for suddenly you are. Alyssa is the head cheerleader, and a well-plugged in gossip. Aside from being a worthwhile bit of bait, she would be useful for snooping around on the inside, and like Eva and Jessica back at Westside, her form would be useful for getting at additional targets. "Okay, let's see what you can pick up," you reply.<br/>
<br/>
You direct Becky to take out that quiz she bombed so spectacularly on. Timothy took Chemistry last year, and though you did well enough, not much of it remains in his head. Still, even after four months, you could do better on the quiz than Becky could. Patiently you guide her through her mistakes, explaining things to her. It's awkward doing the work from the opposite side of the table, but Alyssa is very firm about keeping her seat next to her friend.<br/>
<br/>
After about thirty minutes Becky excuses herself with the plea that she needs to visit the restroom, leaving you and Alyssa alone. The latter crosses her arms and peers narrowly at you over a faint smile. "Are you having fun?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Not really," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"So why are you here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Chaperoning, obviously."<br/>
<br/>
Your own eyes narrow. "Becky is totally safe with me."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not chaperoning her, I'm chaperoning <i>you,</i> sweetie-pie."<br/>
<br/>
Now your eyebrows shoot up. "I need protecting from <i>her?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"No, from Julianna."<br/>
<br/>
"Julianna isn't even here."<br/>
<br/>
"Exactly. Where is she?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess she's late. Or I accidentally told her the wrong time."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh," she says dryly. "So you're extra lucky I came along."<br/>
<br/>
You sigh. "Look, Julianna is not going to be jealous."<br/>
<br/>
"You just keep telling yourself that, see how long it stays true."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I'm glad you showed up anyway," you say, rising and picking up your bag. Mention of Julianna has reminded you that this threesome is going to turn into a quartet before long. You step around the table and behind Alyssa. <br/>
<br/>
"What are you doing?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Doesn't it seem a little close in here? Stuffy?" You draw a mask from the bag and put it around her head and onto her face. She stiffens, then sags, and gently you let her head drop to the table. You study her a moment, then rearrange her arms and head so it looks like she's taking a brief nap.<br/>
<br/>
She's still in that position when Becky returns. "What's up with her?"<br/>
<br/>
"She's got bored and is taking a cat nap." You pull Becky's chair out for her and gesture at it. She sits with a giggle—a giggle you quickly stifle with another mask. You arrange her as you arranged Alyssa.<br/>
<br/>
They remain in the zonked state for a good long time, until you see the mask reappear between Alyssa's face and her folded arms. Gently you tug it out and stow it away. She continues to sleep, though, and is still out when Becky's mask reappears. After you've got both masks put safely away, you sit back and wait. When Alyssa stirs, you gently nudge Becky with your foot under the table. "The hell?" Alyssa says muzzily, and looks at you suspiciously. <br/>
<br/>
But you're already gathering up your stuff. "I think that's enough for tonight," you say. "You girls can hardly keep your eyes open." They continue to stare at you, dopily but darkly. "I think maybe you're right, Alyssa. I should go meet Julianna separately." You beat a retreat before either one can collect sufficient wits to argue or question what has happened.<br/>
<br/>
You perch in a dark corner outside the library, from which you see your two victims depart, and when Julianna shows up you intercept her. Since you don't want any trouble, you tell her that you met Alyssa and Becky already, and that the brief session is already broken up. If she feels any jealousy, she hides it, and smiles enthusiastically when you suggest driving off to a secluded spot for a little quality time. It progresses no farther than a lot of slow kissing, but that's more than enough to make you happy.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"So what is this place?" Matt asks as he looks around the elementary school basement. It's the next day after school: Thursday, the day before Halloween. You thought about saving the revelation for Halloween itself, but decided the coincidence might freak Matt out too much.<br/>
<br/>
"Just a little clubhouse," you reply. "Or an art studio." You nod at the golem. "Like the statue?"<br/>
<br/>
"Is that what it is," he says dubiously. "Did you make it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Made this too." You hand him a mask. <br/>
<br/>
"This is pretty cool," he admits, turning it around in his hands and brushing the surface. His brow furrows. "It's like there's a face inside it?"<br/>
<br/>
"More than that," you say, gently taking it from him again. "You ever drawn a nude?"<br/>
<br/>
His eyes widen, and he blushes. "No."<br/>
<br/>
"You should start. You can do it down here."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think I can talk a girl into coming down here," he says in a voice that is half gasp and half laugh.<br/>
<br/>
"We already got one here." You grin. "Watch. And don't yell or anything."<br/>
<br/>
You set the mask on the golem. It seems to shimmer and melt, then resolves itself into Becky Torres. "Hey," you say softly, catching her as she totters on her bare feet. "Don't scream," you murmur in her ear. She freezes. "You know you're safe. You like being down here with us. You like being with <i>us.</i>" You repeat these reassuring lines quickly but firmly as she gazes back at you in astonishment. She blinks, and then she smiles.<br/>
<br/>
"Hi, uh, Timothy," she croaks. "Um, how did I get here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't worry about it. You know Matt, right?" You glance back over at him—<br/>
<br/>
He is staring with open-mouthed astonishment—and maybe horror. He sways on his feet. You smile at him as though this is the most normal thing in the world. Then you feel Becky flinch. "Oh God, my clothes!" she shrieks.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't worry about your clothes," you tell her. "You don't need clothes. You don't want clothes. When you're down here you like being naked. You like being naked in front of us. It doesn't bother you." <br/>
<br/>
A little tremble passes through her, and then she shakes herself.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, hi, Matt," she says to the other. "Um, do <i>you</i> know what's going on?"<br/>
<br/>
He stares, and he shakes his head.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, let me enlighten you," you tell them. "Both of you." You reach up onto one of the shelves and pull down the book. "It's magic. Really and truly."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Matt sits cross-legged on one of the tables, hunched into a ball, sucking on his knuckles. Every so often, without shifting his head, he shoots you a pleading glance. He is tensed all over, even though Becky is kneading his shoulders and neck affectionately. Eventually he takes his hands from his mouth long enough to murmur, "This is fucked up."<br/>
<br/>
"It's a little out of the ordinary," you admit.<br/>
<br/>
"It's wrong," he says. "I can't—" Then he groans.<br/>
<br/>
"Is it any worse than using a sock? It's a lot more realistic, and a lot more fun."<br/>
<br/>
"Have <i>you</i> done it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not with <i>her.</i> I was saving her for <i>you.</i>" He groans again. "I can go off, let you break her in."<br/>
<br/>
"It's <i>wrong,</i>" he repeats.<br/>
<br/>
"Think of it as <i>practice,</i>" you sigh. "That's what makes it scary, right? Not knowing how to do it with an actual, uh, girl?" You brush Becky's hand away and lay your own on his shoulder. "There's no pressure here or anything. If you just want to talk to her—"<br/>
<br/>
"But you said she's not real!"<br/>
<br/>
"But she acts just like the real girl. Except she has to do what we say. But she likes to do <i>that.</i> Don't you, Becky?"<br/>
<br/>
The girl laughs and nods. <br/>
<br/>
"I wouldn't be able to look at the real one," Matt says miserably.<br/>
<br/>
"Could you look at the real one before?" He makes a face. "Just get to know her. She's a sweet girl. When you're used to this one, you'll find the real one much easier to talk to."<br/>
<br/>
Matt just continues to look unhappy.<br/>
<br/>
"Do you know anyone else who might be interested in this?" He shoots you a sharp glance. "What I mean is, I like you, but we're not exactly friends. If we brought in one of your own friends on this secret, it might be easier for you."<br/>
<br/>
He buries his face in his hands. "Keighley," he finally says, very quietly.<br/>
<br/>
"Bring him out here tomorrow." You push Becky away and carefully remove her mask; she reverts to a plain golem. "In the meantime, think about it and sleep on it."<br/>
<br/>
Matt slides off the desk and gives a start when he sees the restored golem. You clap an arm around his shoulders and lead him back to the door.<br/>
<br/>
Outside, he stops. "You know," he says, "it's not so much that I don't want to ... to do it." He swallows. "But I just can't ... picture myself ... doing it. Not like <i>this,</i>" he says helplessly.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh, is that all?</i> "There are ways of dealing with that," you assure him. "But we'll talk about that tomorrow, too."<br/>
<br/>
You part. On the way back home, though, you've food for thought. You have one mask left. Should you use it to copy another guy—someone he'd feel more comfortable "being" while with the golem?</span></div></div>


path: 111231222122122121111122211112211122
author_id: rugal
title: The Switch Up
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Give me Nurse Diesel." you say after a moment of thought.<br/>
<br/>
"Nurse Diesel huh?" Patterson replies cocking his eyebrow, "Figured you'd go with Eastman. Truth be told I was thinking of putting Tilley in for her given that it's an easier job and I've got a little more faith in you to pull off something like that."<br/>
<br/>
"So you want me to do the Eastman job instead?" you ask, "You're the one in charge."<br/>
<br/>
Patterson replies with a shake of the head. "Nah, I gave you options and you made your choice. It's cool, I'll just have to keep tabs on Tilley far more than I was gonna keep tabs on you. He really shouldn't be in charge of running a hot dog cart much less a big operation like this."<br/>
<br/>
"In charge of--" you're lucky you don't have anything to drink otherwise it would've been all over the place, "Tilley's gonna be running things at Eastman?!"<br/>
<br/>
"Sort of." Patterson answers cooly, "With you you've proven yourself to be reliable, really reliable, and willing to help out your brothers-in-arms. You're a good egg for a dork so I was going to let you do your thing over there. Tilley though... he's too scatterbrained. He's gonna need some direction so I'm going to have to guide him along a bit."<br/>
<br/>
You feel a small pang of regret. Running things yourself with limited to no oversight would've been nice but what's done is done. You're not as confident in your abilities to grab fifteen Eastman students as Patterson is which is why you went with Nurse Shaffer in the first place. She's not an appealing home: worn out, stretched, a little plump like an old purse that's constantly filled to the brim. But the job is definitely going to be easier than the Eastman one and it's not like you'd have to be Shaffer permanently.<br/>
<br/>
"So," Patterson speaks up with a smirk, "you ready to get started? I think the ol' Diesel Engine's starting to rev up."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
"You're sick, huh?" you say as the girl sits down in the chair, "Sienna honestly, how many times have I had to see you for being 'sick' this year?"<br/>
<br/>
"Like ten?" replies Sienna Goldman, "I dunno I don't keep track of that shit."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm honestly shocked it still works. Always on a Monday, always 'sick', always the headaches..."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe they just don't give a fuck, I don't know. Christ why the interrogation?" Sienna mutters as she holds her head, "Goddamn it's giving me a headache."<br/>
<br/>
"No I'm sure that's the hangover, honey, not my 'interrogation' or whatever you want to all it." you smirk. "Maybe you should learn how to handle your booze better."<br/>
<br/>
"I can handle it just fine." she whines, "God why are you such a fucking cunt?"<br/>
<br/>
With just about any other teacher or authority figure Sienna's word choice would've definitely earned her a talking to or maybe even a suspension of some kind. You, or rather Nurse Shaffer, doesn't care though. She gave up on caring a long time ago in general. You were a bit surprised to learn that she's only 45 since you assumed she was probably a good five to ten years older. She actually used to be fairly nice looking but years of an apathetic existence and nihilistic outlook have left her looking like the form you're wearing now. Her cheating bastard of an ex-husband had left her about 8 years ago and in her depression she broke a taboo hooking up with a senior student in secret. Their relationship lasted until a little after his graduation when he broke up with her as rumors really started heating up. The experience had left her a bitter mess turning to drinking and cigarettes.<br/>
<br/>
Sienna was one of the few people she genuinely liked nowadays however, maybe seeing a bit of her younger self in the girl but liking her spunk and the fact she could give Shaffer back as much as Shaffer gave. "Look, I've got something that'll help you out alright? Knock you out for a few minutes." Without giving her a chance to respond you stick the mask onto her face and wait for it to do its work. It's the only mask Patterson gave you, since your task really gets underway tomorrow, but as a bit of a settling in insisted you get the first person who came in no matter who it was.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Thanks for spending some time with me, Sienna." Fatima says as you pull up to her house.<br/>
<br/>
"Shit, we're best friends aren't we?" you reply smiling, "Don't worry about it. We haven't hung out like that in a while so I could blow off practice just this once."<br/>
<br/>
"Mmm, still I appreciate it. We haven't just hung out in a couple of weeks. I was getting kind of lonely."<br/>
<br/>
"Well maybe you shouldn't have broken up with DeMarcus." you reply.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, maybe DeMarcus Simmons should've actually done things with me more than half the time." she shoots back crossing her arms.<br/>
<br/>
You smirk, "Yeah but he was a good fuck right?"<br/>
<br/>
Fatima begins blushing profusely. "Sienna!" she exclaims, "I'm not... I don't kiss and tell you know that!"<br/>
<br/>
You laugh and give her a hug, "It was nice hanging out with you too 'Tima. I'll see you at school tomorrow right?"<br/>
<br/>
You switched out of Nurse Shaffer's mask and into Sienna's at the first opportunity after school. With her knowledge in your head you knew she had band practice today and at what time so it was just a matter of waiting until she left, running back to her house and grabbing an outfit spending some time with her and with the very cute, very sweet Fatima Zahedi. After driving back to the school you head up to the Fuck Room in order to return the mask and put Shaffer's back on. After all Patterson doesn't need to know you took the newest acquisition out for a little joy ride.<br/>
<br/>
So imagine your surprise when you turn the key, open the door and find Patterson waiting for you wanting to know what the hell you've been doing.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Goddamn that was wild. I wasn't expecting you, her, whoever to be that great." Patterson says in genuine surprise. It's about the first time you've heard him without anything to really say.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, it's not like I was expecting to fuck you but this girl's got a libido the size of Texas. 'Specially when she's got some booze in her." you say as you pull your ripped jeans back up. "Kinda easy to lose yourself in that situation I guess. Speaking of booze goddamn get some real shit up here. Some whiskey and shit, I can only deal with so much of that pussy watered down beer."<br/>
<br/>
"You've certainly got a mouth on you now." Patterson says sitting up.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, you know about that well enough now don't you?" you shoot back with a smirk. "Sorry for taking this mask out by the way but goddamn I needed to get out of that cunt Shaffer's skin and into something better."<br/>
<br/>
And it definitely WAS something better. Sienna had very short bleached hair, the kind of look that'd start whispers about sexual leanings, but she never really tried to hide the fact she liked a good lay from a cute guy. She had a confidence about her that was certainly attractive, a nice (well average really) pair of boobs and plenty of guys definitely found her wide hips, large ass and general slightly thicker than normal thighs appealing to the point where she never had much trouble landing a guy she set her eyes on if only for a quick fuck.<br/>
<br/>
"Actually, I was thinking..." you say as you pull your shirt on, "I know I agreed to be Shaffer but lemme step in for Sienna instead."<br/>
<br/>
"You want to..." Patterson starts, "I can't really have people changing jobs left and right."<br/>
<br/>
"Just golemize the Shaffer mask and put it on the real Sienna. Have that Shaffer do what I was gonna do. As Sienna I'll get you Fatima Zahedi. Jelena Petrovic. Shit, you know she's friends with Andrea Varnsworth right?" You notice Patterson immediately stand to attention at the mention of her name, "I'll get you Andrea. Fuck I'll get you the whole swim team. I'll make it worth your while. What do you say?"</span></div></div>


path: 1112312221221221211111222111122112
author_id: seuzz
title: The Door Prize
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Screw it. You want out of this scene as badly as Keith. If it's a blonde guy in the bathroom, it's probably one of the ballplayers. There's a lot of blond guys on the team. And if it isn't, well, it'll still be an Eastman person, and you can use them to try again to get to a ballplayer. Patterson won't like the wasted mask, but maybe you'll luck out and—<br/>
<br/>
These rationalizations are interrupted by the door opening. True to your design, the guy turns his back on you as he exits, and you grab him from behind, reaching around to slap the mask onto his face. He collapses back into your arms, and you drag him into the bathroom.<br/>
<br/>
Only after you've kick the door closed and laid him on the floor do you get a good look at him. He's blonde, as Keith said he would be, and you recognize him as a loudmouth who was flirting with a bunch of girls out by the pool. <i>Joe Durras,</i> Seth's memories inform you. You smile to yourself. Joe and his brother, Frank, are new to Eastman and to the Eastman squad, and the Westside team is burning with curiosity about how good they are. This should get you in good with Patterson.<br/>
<br/>
You lean against the bathroom vanity, tapping your foot impatiently, waiting for the mask to reappear. When it does, you snatch it up and hastily exit the bathroom.<br/>
<br/>
"It wasn't Straussler," you snap at Keith when you're downstairs, "but he'll do. Come on, let's get out of here."<br/>
<br/>
"Aren't we going to tell anyone we're going?"<br/>
<br/>
You roll your eyes. "Fine. Go tell what's her name it was a great party. I'll be out in the truck."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
To your immense chagrin, Gordon Black is the only occupant of the fuck room. Well, it could have been worse, considering you didn't call ahead. If you'd busted in on him with Chelsea— "Where's Patterson?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Not here," he says brusquely, and looks back down at his work. He's got a mask in his lap, and you recognize that he is painting its inside with sealant. "Get out."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, I don't wanna be here anyway." You don't feel inclined to take any shit from him. "I just came by to drop off the latest mask." You toss it at him, and it clatters by his feet. <br/>
<br/>
He peers down at it with a frown. "Who the fuck is Franz Felix All— Allo—" He struggles to read the name on the inside of the mask, then gives up and glares at you. "Who the fuck?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's one of the new basketball guys. Joe Durras."<br/>
<br/>
"Ain't no 'Joe' here," Gordon rumbles, nudging the mask with his knee. His expression hardens. "You fuck up? You and Javits are both dumb enough."<br/>
<br/>
"I got a look at him," you say, your own voice turning hard. "Had a lot of time to look at him, too, waiting for the mask to, you know. I know who it was," you growl at Gordon. "And if you can't read a fucking name inside a fucking mask—"<br/>
<br/>
Gordon gets slowly to his feet, and straightens until he towers over you. But you're still in Javits's mask, so you put your hands on your hips and return his belligerent stare with one of your own.<br/>
<br/>
Your eyes remain locked until your own begin to water. But he blinks first, though in a way that doesn't acknowledge defeat. "I'm sick of dealing with this shit," he says quietly. "You can finish up. I'm gonna go find Chelsea."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll do a better job than you anyway," you retort. "The fucking book belonged to me first anyway." He brushes hard against you as he passes, but there is no more to it than that. He slams the door, though.<br/>
<br/>
You swear sulfurous oaths, then grab up one of the masks from the floor. It's the one he was sealing up: CASSANDRA SUSAN HARPER, it says on its inner surface. <i>Cassie Harper, huh?</i> Patterson and Gordon must be so drunk on these things they've stopped making distinctions. Oh, Cassie is cute enough in that freckled way, but she's no natural beauty, and is a scatterbrained chatterbox.<br/>
<br/>
As for the other mask: FRANZ FELIX ALOIS LIEBESSPRUCH. You blink at it. So, Gordon wasn't shitting you about the name. "Joe" must be a nickname, and you don't blame your victim for taking one. But "Liebesspruch"? That doesn't sound right. Even if you couldn't remember an eye-splitting name like that, "Joe Liebesspruch" just doesn't seem like a name one could forget the general sound of.<br/>
<br/>
You drop onto the mat with a sigh, to finish up Gordon's work. He's just started on Cassie's mask, but sealing a mask takes little time, and you seal up the other mask too. As you do so, of course, you can't help staring at that goofball name. It's not just an unusual name, but the lettering looks odd, too. You compare it to Cassie's mask. Her name is written in the simple, Roman strokes that you've seen in all the other masks, but the lettering in the other mask is different, with more strokes and curlicues. Maybe it's the "Franz" and "Liebesspruch" that make you think the lettering looks faintly Germanic.<br/>
<br/>
You blow the sealant dry, and continue to regard the mask curiously. Getting this mask was one of your assignments, which means that under the team rules you have a perfect right to try it on. It's a small mystery, what's going on with his name, and probably has a trivial answer, but you can settle it very easily by donning his form long enough to find out.</span></div></div>


path: 11123122212212212111112221111221121
author_id: seuzz
title: Memories of Another Life
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Oh, what the hell. You pull off Seth's mask and put the new mask on.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Memories ...</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">~ ~ ~ ~ ~</div><br/>
The wind whips around your small body. There is a hint of snow in the air. You had asked your father if you might stay inside, and maybe he himself hadn't relished the idea of going outside, for he didn't beat you for making the suggestion. Not that it occurred to you at the time—you were only seven years old—that maybe he also didn't like the cold.<br/>
<br/>
You've only three paintings today—an exceptionally greedy mark made off with two of them last week—but your business now is to play the violin, and you draw a long and intricate line of notes from it. This is the best part: Time seems to slow as you're playing, especially during the passages that even your gruff father admits sound "brilliant." Most people only stop to listen and to drop a few paper bills into the hat. But you've got to be alert to the few whose eyes settle on the canvases.<br/>
<br/>
You're not sure about these two. One of them—the one in thick glasses under a mop of graying hair over a turtle-like beak of a mouth—seems drawn by the paintings, and he frowns over them intently. The other one, though, with the patchy white beard and the ruddy cheeks, seems deeply absorbed in your melody. Most people just attend to the music, but he stands with the attitude of one who is pulling it in, and the faster you play the more he seems to draw the musical strands to himself. <br/>
<br/>
"Well <i>this</i> one isn't just pretty," the turtle-like one honks as he jabs one of the paintings with a bony finger. You're not surprised that he speaks English. The natives of Wroclaw are rare customers, and it is usually tourists who wind up cursing the day they saw you.<br/>
<br/>
"My brother painted it," you chirp in perfect English. You shift your stance subtly: a signal to your father, who is seated across the street at a cafe. He drops a few coins on the table before sauntering over with a languid cigarette dangling from his fingers.<br/>
<br/>
"Then why isn't he out hawking them instead of you," the turtle-like one snaps. <br/>
<br/>
"He's sick." You shut your eyes to concentrate on the violin, but you listen while pretending indifference as the two men jabber with each other. Not until you hear your father's voice do you open your eyes. It's your own father who asks you about the artist and where he studied, and as per the script you tell him "the Siletsky Institute."<br/>
<br/>
"They're quite good," your father says in a low tone to the foreigners (Americans, by their accents). "Not masterpieces, but the technique intrigues."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm more into the pretty music," says the whiskered man.<br/>
<br/>
"Mind you, he's overcharging," your father continues, ignoring the interruption. "But— Excuse me, my boy, would you take me to meet this brother of yours?"<br/>
<br/>
You look up, feigning vague incomprehension. "He's sick," you repeat with a shrug. "He doesn't like seeing people."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, could you give him this?" Your father hands you the card he has handed you more times than you can remember, in nearly identical circumstances. "My gallery is in Germany, so it probably won't mean much to a Pole," he confides to the foreigners.<br/>
<br/>
"Music is universal," the whiskered man says. "The brother would be better off giving the boy music lessons."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, he's just a monkey with a fiddle, Charles," says the turtle-mouthed man. "You think these things could be worth something some day?" he asks, turning to your father and gesturing at the paintings. <br/>
<br/>
Your father smiles as the bait is taken. "Possibly," he says with a shrug.<br/>
<br/>
"The boy here will be more famous," says the whiskered man. He takes out and examines an enormous pocket watch, and there's a hungry look in his eye as he glances up at you. "Can you come with me for an hour?" he asks you. "Play your violin for a friend of mine?" You watch your father without shifting your eyes from the stranger; he remains stony.<br/>
<br/>
"Our plane leaves in two hours," cries Turtle Lips.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll buy all three paintings for you if we can take a later flight," says Whiskers. "Five thousand dollars for the set," he says to you. <br/>
<br/>
Your father shifts his stance slightly, so you nod. Whiskers counts out the bills—which at the time didn't strike you as odd—and his friend crows jubilantly as he grabs up the canvases. Your father affects a shrug and mutters about "over paying," but you can tell he is ecstatic: You will know how to get home after this odd detour, and he knows you will bring the money with you.<br/>
<br/>
But you don't. It's only some weeks later, long after they have whisked you to America, that you realize the strangers played your father's own con game back at him, and claimed <i>you</i> as their prize.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">~ ~ ~ ~ ~</div><br/>
"Good golly, Miss Molly," you holler. "Are you <i>done</i> yet?"<br/>
<br/>
"Watch your mouth, Franz," Nash mutters around the cigarette. "I've a special machine that'll learn you how to blaspheme." He continues to work furiously at the mechanism.<br/>
<br/>
"Shit, Dad's already taught me the finer points of—" <i>Cuck-OO!</i> The clock chimes, and you've just time to see the evil little bird pop back behind its door. "Fuck! That's seven!"<br/>
<br/>
"We know how to count," Giuseppe snaps. "Make it go slower!"<br/>
<br/>
"It's slippery!" Your whole body feels like it's being vibrated to pieces, and you grit your teeth as you as you grip and try to retard the slippery time stream. In stark contrast to those of the cuckoo clock, the hands on the grandfather clock seem to be moving very quickly.<br/>
<br/>
"Just three more to go," Nash says. His steel-rimmed eyeglasses glint in the candlelight as he pinches two pieces of wire together. A small blue flame arcs, and an acrid odor fills the air. "Frank, has that fellow outside moved any since we've started?"<br/>
<br/>
"I can't see out the window," you cry. "Ask Dum-Dum."<br/>
<br/>
"I was," Nash says, and smiles to himself. "Sorry, I was making a joke. Giuseppe?"<br/>
<br/>
"Still looking the other way."<br/>
<br/>
"We shoulda closed the curtains before starting," Nash mutters.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Cuck-OO!</i> "Eight!" you yell.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, I'm gonna try a two-fer," Nash says. "It was nice knowing you boys."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?" you gasp.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Snip snap snip snap.</i> "Nothing. It worked. Now, you two shut up while I get this last one."<br/>
<br/>
Reality seems to wobble beneath your feet: it's like balancing on a basketball. And you're juggling nitroglycerin.<br/>
<br/>
"I think the guard is turning this way," Giuseppe murmurs.<br/>
<br/>
"Joe, you have a comment?" Nash asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck! Wait, what did you call me?" But Nash just smiles. You want to snarl, but you're distracted by another sharp stab. "Ow! That bastard of a bird! He bit me again!"<br/>
<br/>
"Bit you?" Giuseppe gasps. Nash looks over at you sharply, and says. "What do you mean, 'again'?"<br/>
<br/>
You stare back dumbly. "All this time he's been nipping at—"<br/>
<br/>
"And you didn't mention it?" There's an iron snap in Nash's voice as he fishes inside his pants pockets. He pulls out a little slip of paper, peels a sticker from it, and peers back inside the panel underneath the cuckoo clock. He pushes aside some wires— <i>Cuck-OO!</i> But then there's a hiss, and the bird sags on its perch. The red glow in its eyes disappears.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, that was nerve-wracking," Nash sighs. "And for no good purpose." He stabs a finger in your face. "Next time, you tell me everything that's going on. Everything!"<br/>
<br/>
"It's a demon-possessed cuckoo clock! I thought everyone would figure—"<br/>
<br/>
"It wasn't possessed! Just charm-cast! Who told you it was—?" He frowns at Giuseppe, who has now turned pale. "Alright, just let me get inside the safe before that guard turns around. But your old dad will have words for <i>both</i> of you when we get back to Olympia!"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">~ ~ ~ ~ ~</div><br/>
"So who's in charge of the mission?"<br/>
<br/>
"You are, Frank." The old man smiles through a beard that has thinned considerably over the last ten years. But his cheeks are as ruddy as ever.<br/>
<br/>
Giuseppe—"Frank" for the past four years, since Nash Carnes let slip the private joke he'd been sharing with the old man—frowns. "No, I mean, who—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just you two. It's a small job, smaller than you should have for your debut."<br/>
<br/>
Your heart leaps at the word "debut," and you grin at Frank over the table. "I am going to make your life so miserable, you goose-stepping fascist," you chortls.<br/>
<br/>
"And which of us looks more like a Nazi?" he snaps.<br/>
<br/>
"That's how come I'm letting my hair grow out." You run your fingers through your blonde mop. "I'd rather hit San Diego, but New York is nice this time of year. So we drop into Sleepy Hollow, scoop up the <i>Personae</i>, and we're back in time for fireworks and corn on the cob?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's the idea."<br/>
<br/>
You raise your hands over your head. "I love our family business!"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You open your eyes with a lazy smile. Yes, it was a very lucky thing you put this mask on before Patterson did.<br/>
<br/>
Now, do you use this lucky break to help Joe and his brother—a pair of underage, undercover magical policeman who are trying to find the <i>Summa Libra Personae</i>—finish their mission? Or do you use it to save you and your friends from them—and keep the book for yourself?</span></div></div>


path: 111231222122122121111122211112211212
author_id: seuzz
title: Of Old Books and New Brains
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>All at once you feel like you're covered by a swarm of golden bees, needling at you. You cannot just lay here daydreaming. You have to <i>do something.</i><br/>
<br/>
Go find Joe and Frank Durras? You now know all that they know about the <i>Summa Libra Personae</i>: its history, its temptations, its dangers. They and their colleagues can safely dispose of it, and they can easily handle Patterson and Black and Lynch—<br/>
<br/>
And you?<br/>
<br/>
You tug at your lip. It's very hard to know what Joe would think of you and Caleb and Keith, for in this disguise you're doing the thinking for him. Oh, but you can judge Frank's reaction. Frank wouldn't approve, and he wouldn't be gentle. No sir.<br/>
<br/>
Okay, so you can't go to them. What can you do?<br/>
<br/>
Your eye is turned inward, so even though you've been staring at the cupboard for awhile, it takes a moment to register: the combination lock is off the "secret cupboard."<br/>
<br/>
Before you can tell your feet to move, you've leapt over and torn the door open. Inside is the <i>Libra</i>; also a lot of masks, and many plastic containers with raw ingredients, you'd warrant.<br/>
<br/>
You snatch up the book and flip it open. A smile creases your face: with Joe's education and background, the spells are like Baby's First Book of Magical Recipes. The Latin—<i>Oh stars, that doggerel Latin</i>—resolves itself into ungrammatical but digestible gibberish. You glance down at the sigils, and your smile widens. Joe knows sigil work, and though these are hideously complex signs, with his mind you can read the elements and their conjugations. Slowly you trace your fingers around the wheel of one, tracking its internal logic. Ah, this is the one that turns people into golems; you shiver, and it's not just Joe's emotional reaction. If you're not careful you could yet be on the receiving end of this spell.<br/>
<br/>
You snap the book shut and drum your fingers on the cover. You could take the book, and if you moved quickly you might be able to do what you need and want before Patterson knew it had gone. But what are you going to do?<br/>
<br/>
After a few minutes of furious thinking, you decide that you can't decide: there are too many imponderables. But though you can't risk making off with the book, you can at least make yourself a copy of the key spells. Joe has a nearly photographic memory—and he understands this stuff anyway, far better than you ever could—so a careful reading of the open spells is enough to secure you a knowledge of the ingredients and methods of preparation for each spell. The sigils are much harder—they are so complex that memorization is not really an option. There is a notebook in the cupboard, though, so you quickly rip out a couple of pages and start copying down the sigils.<br/>
<br/>
It's not until you're almost done with the first sigil that you realize that you shouldn't have been able to copy it down at all.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Well, something to worry about later,</i> you tell yourself. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're close to being finished when your cell phone rings—a noise that makes you jump. You grit your teeth when you see it's Patterson calling. "Gordon told me there's something funky going on with that mask you scored today," he says, and his voice is grim.<br/>
<br/>
"Gordon doesn't know what he's talking about," you retort. "It's one of the Eastman basketball guys, like you asked for."<br/>
<br/>
"He said there was a crazy name inside the mask."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but it's nothing. It's Joe Durras. You know, one of the new guys?" Patterson grunts. "Turns out he's originally from Germany, got adopted and moved to the US. That's all. The mask copied his real name, not his Americanized one."<br/>
<br/>
There's a pause. "How do you know? And what's the deal with your voice?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry." You cough and make an elaborate show of clearing your throat; when you speak again, it is in your own voice. "Gordon was right that the name was weird, so after he left I tried the mask on, to figure out what the deal was."<br/>
<br/>
"Huh. Okay. Main reason I'm calling is to remind you that Gordon is your boss, just like me, so you do whatever the fuck he tells you to do."<br/>
<br/>
"I did. The masks are all ready to go." Thinking quickly, you add: "I couldn't put all the stuff away because you've got that one cabinet locked."<br/>
<br/>
"You still up at the school?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nah. You need me to go back up there?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. We'll talk on Monday." Another pause. "Unless you found out anything interesting inside that mask."<br/>
<br/>
"Nope. He's just a moron."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay. Hang loose until the next club meeting."<br/>
<br/>
After hanging up, you quickly finish your task, return the book to the cupboard, and put the combination lock back on. You do a little tidying up, then take off the mask and leave the school. Of course you take it with you. Aside from being able to borrow Joe Durras's brain while studying the sigils you copied, you reflect that his voice could also be useful. He is a gifted mimic—a fact you were able to use to fool Patterson into thinking you were in your natural form—and that might prove useful at spreading misinformation by phone.<br/>
<br/>
And you <i>don't</i> want Patterson getting inside it.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You toy with telling Caleb and Keith about what you've done and discovered, but decide to keep it close for now. Instead spend the all day Sunday afternoon at the old elementary school, inside Joe Durras's mask, studying the material you copied from the book. You sketch and diagram and dissect and rearrange the sigils, giving yourself—or, at least, yourself when you're in Joe Durras's form—a thorough mastery of them. You did not copy all of them, only the sigils that make masks, mind bands, and sealant; and the sigil that binds mind bands to masks. You also copied out the sigil for the spell that comes after the one that turns people into golems. It's the spell that Patterson used to make that "goop" he says that he put inside some of the masks. <br/>
<br/>
More technically (you discover) it's a sealant that puts a kind of golem inside the mask. When the mask is placed on a victim, it encloses them inside something like the shell of a golem, and then places the mask image over them. This has the effect of making them disappear—the victim goes into a deep sleep, and the personality inside the mask takes over. And because it is riding on a golem, the new personality is under the control of a master: the person whose <i>essentia</i> has been used to make the golem. The master is able to wear the mask without danger, but it has the effect of making it his own personal property.<br/>
<br/>
That makes the spell very useful, though also very dangerous to you and your friends. If Patterson wanted, he could simply put golem shells inside the masks he has of you and Caleb and Keith, put those masks onto you and your friends, and turn you into his slaves. (And, of course, he could do the same to Gordon and to Lynch.) But now that <i>you</i> have the same spell, you can do the same to him and to his friends.<br/>
<br/>
You can also do the same thing to the real Joe Durras and his "brother."<br/>
<br/>
You're in the midst of these reflections when Patterson calls; you adjust your throat a little and answer in your own voice. "Kinda early for an after-school meeting, isn't it?" you josh, and instantly regret it. You shove Joe's personality to the background.<br/>
<br/>
But he ignores you. "Where's that mask you made yesterday?" he demands.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. After you called I realized I walked off with it. I've got it here."<br/>
<br/>
There's a long pause. "Okay. Just make sure you bring it with you on Monday."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Patterson is up to something,</i> you think after you've hung up. But what? <br/>
<br/>
You take Joe's mask off, and then return home to get your truck so you can run some errands. In studying the golem-shell spell you've noticed that the choice of actual ingredients for the shell is not vital, and that lots of substitutions are possible; and so although you don't have a lot of pocket money you are able to procure a cheap set of ingredients that will let you perform the spell. The only necessary ingredient is a handful of dirt from a graveyard, and that's free and easy—if a little creepy—to procure by stopping briefly by the Masonic cemetery. Back at the elementary school, you coat the inside of Joe's mask with a shell that will put its wearer under <i>your</i> control. You don't want Patterson being able to get into that mask and discover what you have learned.<br/>
<br/>
Of course, he'll have to guess that something is up if he gets a look inside the mask. Maybe you should be wearing it the next time you meet up with him.</span></div></div>


path: 1112312221221221211111222111122112122
author_id: seuzz
title: Team Assignments
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Since you don't know what Patterson intends, or when he intends to do it, you decide it's better to wait and see what develops. <br/>
<br/>
So you've got Joe's mask with you on Monday when you show up at school, but you're feeling edgy. You jump when Caleb pokes you in the back at your locker before first period. "Don't sneak up on me like that," you say.<br/>
<br/>
He cocks a skeptical eyebrow and glances around the crowded, noisy hallway. "Yeah, I had use mad ninja skillz to get this close to you. Anyway, I didn't hear from you this weekend."<br/>
<br/>
"I was busy. You?"<br/>
<br/>
"Frantic. I was in two places all weekend long." He pauses in a way that seems meaningful. "How's your latest project?"<br/>
<br/>
"Done. I'll find out this afternoon what my next one is."<br/>
<br/>
"Is there a club meeting after school?" That's Tilley, stepping out of the crowd. <br/>
<br/>
Unfortunately for him,  he's not alone. Before you can warn him, Seth Javits steps out of the same crowd and throws a big arm around his neck. "Club meeting? What kind of club would have <i>you</i> as a member?" Keith chokes, and Javits grins. "Been a long time since we've hung out, Tilley." He drags your hapless friend off.<br/>
<br/>
You stare after them, and can't help wondering: Is that the real Javits? He doesn't go after Keith every day, and it would be a funny—but horrible—coincidence if Seth decided to make today a "special day" for Keith after your teammate had to spend all weekend with his doppelganger. <br/>
<br/>
You turn back to your locker, and find Caleb staring evenly at you. "What?" you ask in irritation. <br/>
<br/>
"Nothing, I guess,"  he says in a tone that suggests the opposite of "nothing." "Kinda funny he left <i>you</i> alone."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, real funny. Maybe I'll draw a webcomic about it," you retort. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The sequel—and explanation—comes at lunch. You're off in a corner with Caleb, bitching about a pop vocabulary quiz, when Keith stalks up. "Here's that fucking mask," he yells, and hurls the item in question at Caleb's head. "Go fuck yourself with it!"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb curses as it bounces off his shoulder. "Keep those things out of sight," you yell at Keith. "What's your problem?"<br/>
<br/>
He grabs you by the arm and tries pulling you away. "Come on, let's get out of here. I don't wanna hang around that asshole."<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck did I do?" Caleb cries. He's recovered the mask and is shoving it into his bag while glaring at Keith.<br/>
<br/>
You do a small double take, for you've just noticed that Keith has what looks like a roll of cotton shoved up his nose. "Did you guys get in a fight?" you exclaim.<br/>
<br/>
"Kind of," he says, and leans around you to flip Caleb the bird. "That's for you," he snarls. "And if you're not you, you can pass it along to yourself!"<br/>
<br/>
"Are you on crack?" you cry.<br/>
<br/>
He puts his arm in yours and drags you along in a fury. "That's not Caleb," he growls. "It's a fucking golem!"<br/>
<br/>
"What are you babbling about?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's not Caleb! Did you forget how to speak English?"<br/>
<br/>
"Are you saying it's Patterson?" You swivel around to look at Caleb, who is looking very upset as he gazes after you.<br/>
<br/>
"No. Or, I dunno, maybe. But it was Caleb who grabbed me in the hall this morning before class. I know, it looked like Javits, but it was Caleb wearing the Javits mask."<br/>
<br/>
Your jaw drops. "He came to school as Javits?! Is he nuts? Or are you nuts? How do you know?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because he pulled me into the bathroom and told me! He's up at the senior level now." You blink. "Yeah, he finished his last job on Saturday, and now he's a senior asshole like Patterson and Black. They got rid of Javits somehow—turned him into a golem, it sounds like—and now Caleb is running around <i>being</i> Seth Javits." Keith lips peel back in a snarl. "And he gave me a new job!"<br/>
<br/>
"Did you get Yumi yesterday?"<br/>
<br/>
"No I didn't get Yumi yesterday," he sneers back in a mocking tone. "They changed my job, made me get a copy of Nurse Shaffer. That's who's in the mask."<br/>
<br/>
You are now feeling utterly bewildered. "What mask?"<br/>
<br/>
"The one I just gave Caleb!" Keith hollers. "Are you blind as well as deaf?"<br/>
<br/>
"How did you get a copy of Nurse Shaffer?"<br/>
<br/>
"With this." He points to his nose. "Caleb gave it to me, along with a blank mask, and I took them both to the nurse's office. So yeah, I'm not feeling real friendly toward Johansson at the moment."<br/>
<br/>
You look back at Caleb with a frown. Okay, it's beginning to make a little more sense, though God knows it would make no sense if you hadn't studied up on that new spell yesterday. They must have coated the inside of Caleb's mask with a golem shell, then gotten it onto Javits; and now Caleb is walking around wearing Javits's mask. "Well, don't take it out on the stupid golem," you tell Keith. "It didn't do anything to you."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I can't very well take it out on Javits," Keith retorts. "Are you gonna be an asshole when <i>you</i> get up to senior level?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Keith tells you there isn't a "club meeting" scheduled for the afternoon, but you get a text message from Patterson telling you to "be available" after school. You linger in the school library for an hour, doing homework during those moments you're not furiously trying to anticipate what might be up. Around four-thirty, Seth Javits walks in. He grins and tilts his chin in greeting. "I guess you heard there's been a little change in the team line up," he says as he drops down at the table to join you.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, and you're not popular at the moment," you reply.<br/>
<br/>
That catches him short. "Tilley never could take a joke. What's <i>your</i> problem?"<br/>
<br/>
"That you're playing that kind of joke on Keith. Yeah, alright, he deserves it most of the time. Maybe even this time. But it ain't smart."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll make it up to him. When he makes senior level I'll let him have this mask and he can have fun with Cindy. Oh my God!" He grips the edge of the table, and his lips peel back into a rictus of ecstasy.<br/>
<br/>
You choke a little on the sudden, sour taste in your mouth. "So, is there some kind of meeting? Is that why you're hanging around?"<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? No, I just got out of practice." Now it's his turn to grimace over something sour. "It was a bitch. I think Patterson and Black were extra hard on me because it was my first day on the team. You know what I mean. Oh, but yeah, Patterson said something about you needing to hang around."<br/>
<br/>
You and he continue to talk—an odd sight, but there aren't many people in the library to notice—but eventually he takes off. The library closes, and you take yourself down to the nearest Starbucks. Five o'clock comes, and you're getting nervous, for you will soon need to head home for supper, or call to say you won't be making it, when Patterson finally rings you up. "You know where," is all he says.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You try to dampen the gleam in your eye, but it's hard not to laugh. So you hide your smile by sucking on your teeth. "The fuck is so funny?" Patterson finally has to ask.<br/>
<br/>
What's funny is that at the moment you are dressed up as Joe Durras; the real Joe Durras is lurking on the other side of the loft, trapped under Patterson's mask; and Patterson is done up as you. But you only shrug. "Just adrenaline, I guess." You drum your chest. "This guy's a junkie, and I'm getting a rush."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you're stepping on a nerve," your twin replies. "But I was saying—"<br/>
<br/>
"You were saying I need to pick three guys—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, three dipshits over at Eastman. Show them the masks and how they work, form a team like we have over here. But you're in charge over at Eastman, like the way I'm in charge over here." He bites the inside of his cheek. "Well, you're in charge over there for the time being. Just get that team set up, and put them to work making fifteen masks, like you and Johansson and Tilley have done."<br/>
<br/>
"And when I'm done, I get to be a senior?"<br/>
<br/>
"You get to be a senior when you've got your three junior guys picked out and copied into masks. You're kind of like a senior right now. But you've only got a week to get the team set up."<br/>
<br/>
"Cool."<br/>
<br/>
He peers at you closely. "Are you sure you're gonna be able to handle this? To be honest with you, Prescott, you don't impress me as the sharpest knife in the drawer, and this Durras guy—" He jerks his chin at you. "I've had beers with better heads on them."<br/>
<br/>
You laugh good-naturedly. Yeah, Joe likes to play the moron. "I'll be fine. Everyone likes Joe. He's a popular kid. And, you know, him and his brother are new to the school, so if Joe comes out with this magic shit, it's not like someone they've known for years suddenly turns out to be a magician."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," Patterson says slowly. And he's even slower to hand the <i>Libra</i> to you. Your fingers tingle as they close around it. It turns out those copies you made aren't even necessary!<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So, Patterson has put you in charge of opening up a "franchise" at Eastman, and has even put you in for one of the two guys who could easily and totally fuck everything up. And because you'll need the book to make masks, he has given you the <i>Libra</i> for the next week. It would be so easy to double-cross him; and in the long-run it would be the safest thing, too.</span></div></div>


path: 11123122212212212111112221111221121221
author_id: seuzz
title: The Durrases in Their Natural Habitat
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The fake Patterson and the real Patterson depart shortly afterward, leaving you to finish dressing. As you pull on the cotton shorts and muscle shirt Joe had donned for the surprise game of one-on-one Patterson had invited him to, you marvel over your amazing luck: Getting into Joe's mask before Patterson could; keeping him out of it; and, courtesy of Patterson himself, getting to step into Joe's life in a way that will make it far easier to take him and his brother out of commission. All while scarcely doing anything yourself.<br/>
<br/>
But luck can't last forever. If you're going to keep yourself in the cat-bird seat, you're going to have to ruthlessly suppress any threats to it.<br/>
<br/>
Your stride is loose and limber as you saunter across the gym floor and out the side door. But although Joe Durras is strong and quick and physically graceful, he isn't a quarter the athlete his adoptive brother is. Frank (originally Giuseppe) camouflages his gifts with misdirection as carefully as Joe does his; people at Eastman call Joe the jock and the Frank the brain, when it's actually the other way around, and you feel your eyes glint with concentration as you reflect on how difficult it will be to take care of the other Durras. He is strong, agile, and packs a punch that is, quite literally, otherworldly. Unless you can catch him unawares, he will make fast and brutal work of you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"I'm hungry!" you bellow as you slam front door behind you. Dishes clatter in another room, and Frank's head appears as a dark blot against the backlight of the kitchen. "Bring me food, girly-man!"<br/>
<br/>
"Go out and kill yourself a mastodon," Frank retorts. "Or a gopher, if you think you're man enough to take one down."<br/>
<br/>
"Fucker, you ate without me!"<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you were gonna get something with your play date. How was it, by the way?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want to be uncharitable," you grumble as you yank open the pantry door to stare at the mostly bare shelves.<br/>
<br/>
"So be charitable."<br/>
<br/>
"Steve Patterson is a dickish, doltish, cock-sucking reprobate with delusions of humanity. He must eat through his asshole, because every time he opens his mouth shit comes out."<br/>
<br/>
"And if you were <i>uncharitable</i>?"<br/>
<br/>
You twist the top off a jar of peanut butter and scoop out a goopy wad with two fingers. "I'd smear this and a jar of honey over his face and bury him up to his neck by a nest of fire ants and wasps." You shove the mess into your mouth and suck hard on your fingers.<br/>
<br/>
"Is he any good on the court?" You open your mouth and stick out your tongue, flashing the crap at Frank. He winces. "I hear Black is even worse."<br/>
<br/>
"If he is," you mumble around the peanut butter, "we'll have found the instantiation of a hitherto putatively purely theoretical construct, viz., That Asshole-i-er Than Which Cannot Be Conceived." You pluck up a corner of Frank's t-shirt and wipe your fingers on it.<br/>
<br/>
He stares down at the mess. You stare down at it. You raise your eyes as he slowly raises his. You watch him carefully, until you see the telltale spark of static electricity in his dark hair. <br/>
<br/>
You dive out of the way as an invisible fist punches the wall behind you, then instantly reverse and jump the other way as invisible fingers brush by your torso. You scamper to the other side of the kitchen and out the other doorway, running hard into the front living room and thence back into the foyer. You grin to yourself as you stop and crouch, watching for pursuit. A shadow looms on the dining room wall, but you're not going to fall for that old trick, and instead of running away, you run toward it. Peeking around the corner, you see the kitchen is empty—Ha! Frank is so predictable. Grinning, you pull at the sliding glass door leading to the back yard. <br/>
<br/>
But it's locked, and as you fumble at the catch something grabs your ankle and yanks your feet out from under you. "Fuck! Shit!" you laugh and cry as you're dragged back toward the front door. Humiliatingly, you're hoisted into the air, to hang upside down in front of Frank. Your shirt falls down to cover your face. <br/>
<br/>
"Suck it off!" Frank roars. <br/>
<br/>
"Mercy!" you cry. "Uncle! I'll clean it up! I'll do your laundry!"<br/>
<br/>
"Suck it off!"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll do your underwear!"<br/>
<br/>
A pause. "Hand wash?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh ..."<br/>
<br/>
"Hand wash my tidy whities, or you get on your knees and suck that shit outta my shirt."<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, alright! Fuck!" He drops you to the ground with a crash, but you roll out of it to peer up at him with a grin. His eyes are narrow, but they twinkle. "Yeah, I'll do your underwear. Only 'cos I know if I put my mouth down there, you'd get an erection."<br/>
<br/>
His smile fades a little. "You'd like it. You wanted me to catch you."<br/>
<br/>
"You cheated. <i>I</i> just ran."<br/>
<br/>
He grunts. "When was the last time you did your exercises?"<br/>
<br/>
"This morning at school. I hit the weights."<br/>
<br/>
"No, I mean the exercises Kali gave you."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh." You make a face as you get to your feet. "Coupla days. Gotta be careful at school."<br/>
<br/>
"We're not at school now."<br/>
<br/>
You twist your hand as though unscrewing a light bulb. "There, happy?"<br/>
<br/>
"What was that?"<br/>
<br/>
"I did it too fast for you to see, and now I'm <i>really</i> hungry."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm serious, Joe. You're not challenging yourself enough these days."<br/>
<br/>
"Says the guy who keeps missing baskets intentionally," you grumble as you trudge back into the kitchen. You pull some crackers and a can of soup from the pantry. "Look, the school's clean. Whoever has the <i>Libra</i> has moved on. We oughta collect the stuff we found in that sub-basement and send it back to Dad."<br/>
<br/>
"Whoever it is isn't going to abandon it," says Frank, who has followed you. <br/>
<br/>
"He's got the <i>Libra.</i> Or maybe he fucked himself up. Survey says Sawyer is still our number one suspect."<br/>
<br/>
"You didn't find anything at his house."<br/>
<br/>
"I was busy with Belinda. Maybe I should ask her out again."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh?" Frank says, and raises an eyebrow. "So you <i>weren't</i> as thorough on that search as you said."<br/>
<br/>
"I guess not," you retort. "So I should try again with her."<br/>
<br/>
He sighs. "You're paying too much attention to the girls."<br/>
<br/>
"And you're not paying enough. Anyway, if you think I'm being distracted, then we should pull outta the school and start looking elsewhere."<br/>
<br/>
"We need some idea of <i>where</i> to search," he says wearily.<br/>
<br/>
"So I'll go out with Belinda again and do another search of her house."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I give up," he says. "It's like arguing with a clock. Your hands always sweep around to touch the same spot, and it's always some girl's tits."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wind up watching a movie as you scribble down half-assed answers to your homework. Around eleven Frank announces he's going to bed, and shortly thereafter you hear the sliding glass door as he goes outside. Even then, you kill another hour before going into the bedroom, changing into pajamas, and putting out the light.<br/>
<br/>
You lay in the dark, eyes fastened on the ceiling, wishing the masks copied more than just memories and physical forms. You would really like to speed the clock up. Frank is a light sleeper, and it will be a few hours before he's slumbering deeply enough to make a safe ambush. So you have lots of time to lightly rub your thighs and think about the pretty girls at Eastman, and let your cock rise and bob and relax. Joe hasn't gone all the way with any of them, but you can change that.<br/>
<br/>
Along about one-thirty you tire of the fantasies and return to some long-range planning. Your stumbling on Joe and Frank was both lucky and alarming. Lucky, because after you've dealt with Frank you won't have to worry that he and Frank will find you and end your fun. Alarming, though, because they are aware of several loose ends that neither they nor you can explain. They found a box in the Eastman gym sub-basement containing a notebook and other items that could only be part of the cache of <i>Libra-</i>related items they've been trying to recover. You didn't put it there, and the timing of their discovery means Patterson couldn't have put it there, either. They suspect it is related to Sawyer Harrison, a senior who fell into a coma just before the start of school, but can't prove it. Harrison's connection, if it exists, is another murky mystery. You also would like to know how the <i>Libra</i>—which, you've learned to your stunned surprise, was briefly at Salopek Engineering, where your real dad works—made its way to Arnholm's Bookstore. Joe is a quick thinker, but he needs data, and there just isn't enough data to make sense of things.<br/>
<br/>
 A little after two you decide it's safe to make your next play. You pull a blank mask from Joe's bag and quietly steal into the back yard. Moving quickly but stealthily, you approach Frank, who is lying on his back under the single tree in the yard. As you stoop next to him, he stirs.<br/>
<br/>
If he has woken, you don't give him a chance to react, and with the speed of striking cobra you jam the mask onto his face. He goes quiet again. But you're still not safe. You tear Joe's mask from your face, fighting the urge to pass out; you fall heavily across Frank, and lay panting as a pain like a million licking tongues of flame recedes. Then, when the mask reappears on Frank's face, you drop Joe's mask onto him. His eyes gleam in the dark. "Asshole," he mutters.</span></div></div>


path: 111231222122122121111122211112211212211
author_id: seuzz
title: New Boss, Definitely Not the Old Boss
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It's morning, and "morning" in the Durras house means it's well before seven. Frank glowers silently across the table as you shove cornflakes into your mouth. You do your best to ignore him, but are finally unnerved enough to speak. "When I told you to act 'normal,' I meant to treat me like your brother."<br/>
<br/>
"I am treating you like my brother," he says in an acid tone that burns dryly. "I'm treating you like the treacherous little pimple who—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, is that all?"<br/>
<br/>
You look up at him keenly, weighing your words. "Forget what happened last night after you went to bed. Forget everything that happened between the time you stepped into the back yard, and the time you stepped inside to get breakfast. Forget it, and forget it <i>now.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
He blinks, and his eyes cloud, but his frown deepens. "The fuck are we talking about?" he asks, and his tone is still angry.<br/>
<br/>
"Forget you're mad at me, Frank."<br/>
<br/>
Now he just looks bewildered. "I still don't understand what—" His eyes freeze. "Have you been playing with the clocks again?"<br/>
<br/>
You laugh. "You're the one who told me I needed to work out more. I can't help it if it leaves you feeling like you've mislaid a few minutes of your life."<br/>
<br/>
"Just leave me out of it," he grumbles. He looks down at his own breakfast of soy sausage and fake eggs. "I'm not hungry."<br/>
<br/>
"Eat. It'll look weird if you don't." Without seeming to notice what he's doing, he shoves a forkful of the mess into his mouth and chews thoughtfully.<br/>
<br/>
Well, at least he's not a threat anymore—not after putting a shell inside his mask and putting it to his face. Now he's just a golem. But getting him to act "normal" is going to be tricky. At the very least, he's going to notice that his "special talents" have stopped working; and he's not going to know why, now that you've erased his knowledge of what you've done to him. If he says anything to "Dad" or anyone else who calls—<br/>
<br/>
"Make you a deal," you say. "I won't do any of my shit around you if you don't do any of your shit around me." That might delay any moments of discovery.<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs, and continues to eat.<br/>
<br/>
That'll be another problem: He may notice that he has to do what you order him to do. By erasing his memory of last night, you've also erased anything that lets him understand why he has to. Last night, when the golem woke, it instantly knew what you'd done to him, which made for a brief, hairy moment before you'd forced him back. If this is going to work, you're going to have to give him some very deep and subtle programming: something that will preserve his "normal" behavior while still making him a docile and helpful assistant. Maybe there will be some spells in the <i>Libra</i> to help with that.<br/>
<br/>
Or maybe it will be easiest just to bring Caleb or Keith in, and let one of them take over the role of "Frank Durras."<br/>
<br/>
That, of course, reminds you of what you need to do at Westside. But first you have to get through the day at Eastman.<br/>
<br/>
Frank continues to eat sullenly, but you don't pay him any more heed. There's lots of fun to be had at Eastman, and some of it will be useful for dealing with Patterson.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Hey Durras, don't make a meal of it!"<br/>
<br/>
The voice isn't mean, so you suppress your natural inclination to flip the heckler off. Besides, you don't want to give them an excuse to come over and get a closer look.<br/>
<br/>
Becky Torres, cheerleader, tastes <i>wonderful.</i> You suck at her tongue and mouth with yours, and clasp her tightly in your arms. When one of her arms falls from your waist, you grab at it and twine her fingers inside yours; you have to push her back a little against the wall behind the school to keep her from falling over.<br/>
<br/>
That's because she's unconscious. She has a mask inside her, and you are hiding the fact that she's passed out.<br/>
<br/>
And taking highly dubious advantage of the opportunity for some pretty sloppy snogging.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"So what's this emergency?" The speaker's face and voice are those of Will Prescott, but the impatient demeanor is completely Steve Patterson's.<br/>
<br/>
"Someone's fucking around with masks over at Eastman, and it's not me," you tell him. You toss him the notebook you lifted from the box in the Eastman gym sub-basement—another one of the little adventures you had today while preparing for this meeting. "I found that over there." You give him a meaningful look. "I didn't put it there, and I don't think you did. Which makes me think that <i>Caleb</i> may be up to something."<br/>
<br/>
"Johansson?" He holds your eye, then he opes and pages slowly through the notebook. His expression darkens. "Where did you say you found this?"<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, at Eastman. Look, it's complicated. Fastest way to get up to speed is to put this on." You take out Becky's mask. "It's a girl I scored today, and she's the one that put me onto this stuff. It's weird, doesn't make any sense."<br/>
<br/>
"Fast work, getting a girl."<br/>
<br/>
"Look at me," you grin. "I'm good."<br/>
<br/>
He takes the mask and reads the name on the inside. He looks back up at you, his eyes glittering with suspicion. It looks like he's not going to play along—<br/>
<br/>
And then he drops to mat in the middle of the Westside fuck room—where you're standing—and puts his hand to his face. As he rips the mask away, he falls back, and you spring over to him. The blank mask is already in your hand and you quickly press it onto Patterson's just-revealed face.<br/>
<br/>
You hum lightly to yourself as you wait. You're not worried about being interrupted. Just before the meeting, you'd used the phone—and Joe's gift for mimicry—to warn all comers away from the fuck room using Patterson's voice.<br/>
<br/>
When the mask reappears on his face you drop Becky's onto him, then sit on the girl who appears there. You already have some golem-sealant made up in a little container, and you apply it to the inside of Patterson's just-prepared mask. You must have woken him up when you dropped onto him, though, for Becky's eyes flutter open. She seems confused at first, but then flushes. "You're opening yourself up to a shitload of trouble, Prescott," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"No, I'd call it a shitload of possibilities," you cheerfully retort, and blow softly into the mask.<br/>
<br/>
"Gordon will—"<br/>
<br/>
"Gordon will what? No, wait, don't tell me. I'll wait until I get your mask on myself, and then I'll be able to answer the question myself. But I'll answer it <i>as</i> you."<br/>
<br/>
"When I get out—"<br/>
<br/>
"If you get out, you won't have to do anything, because I'll die of shock." You smile. "Golly, you're beautiful. I hate to do this, but—" You rip her face off.<br/>
<br/>
After that, things become a little complicated.<br/>
<br/>
First, you put Patterson's mask onto him, and order the newly enslaved Steve Patterson call the old fake Patterson and have it come out to the school. You have to hold your breath over that, for the old golem doesn't have to obey the new golem, but force of habit proves strong. While you are waiting, you take yourself out of Joe's mask, and once the old golem-Patterson has arrived, you and the new golem-Patterson grapple it into submission. You strip it of its old mask, revealing the real Joe Durras, onto whom you place the golemized mask of himself. You then treat the Will Prescott mask with golem-goop and put it back on Patterson. Only then are you able to sit back—rather breathlessly—and don Patterson's mask.<br/>
<br/>
This is how you are finally able to get your first inside look at the guy who's been running you and your friends ragged for a few weeks now.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You open your eyes to a headache. All this popping in and out of various masks ... Ugh. <br/>
<br/>
You sit up and look over at Joe, who is gazing back with an expression of cool contempt. You snort at him.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't look so pissed, Joe," you tell him. "After what you did to your brother last night, you're the last person to complain."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't remind me," he mutters, and turns away.<br/>
<br/>
You let a smile twist onto your lips. Yeah, there's been a lot of double-crossing going on, hasn't there? You and Patterson, Joe and Frank, Johansson and Tilley and—<br/>
<br/>
You blink a few times, hard. Johansson and Tilley and Prescott. <br/>
<br/>
<i>Dirty, double-crossing sons of bitches!</i><br/>
<br/>
You leap over to the cabinet. With exploding anger you twist at the lock and yank open the door. There are the top-secret masks, the ones Patterson meant to move before— With trembling hands you flip them over one by one until you find the two you know are there.<br/>
<br/>
Harris Prescott and Umeko Prescott. Your father, and your cousin.<br/>
<br/>
Masks procured by Keith and Caleb as part of their initiation.<br/>
<br/>
You have to smile coldly at the ruthless ingenuity of it all. (And since you're thinking with Patterson's brain, you <i>do</i> regard it as ingenious.) Keep the plebes under your thumb through blackmail: Make each one do a dirty job, and dig a secret ditch between the friends by making one of the jobs a dirty betrayal of one of the others. What would Prescott think of his friends if he knew that Keith had used Prescott's mask to get a copy of his dad, and Caleb had used it to get a copy of his favorite cousin?<br/>
<br/>
And they'd gone along with it, and never told you.<br/>
<br/>
Well, you do know what you would think. And you're suddenly much less inclined to bring them into a genuine partnership.</span></div></div>


path: 11123122212212212111112221111221121222
author_id: seuzz
title: The Domestic Life of the Durrases
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>There is no need to double-cross Patterson right away. You will have a week, at least, to yourself over at Eastman, to plot and strategize. And as you've been remarkably lucky so far, there is every chance that your luck will continue, with further developments to smooth your way.<br/>
<br/>
So you reflect to yourself after Patterson has left you, and as you pull on Joe's cotton shorts and muscle shirt and tie his sneakers. He is quick and limber, both in mind and body, and already glittering possibilities are suggesting themselves. You like Patterson's scheme for itself, and as you pack up the <i>Libra</i> and the three blank masks he gave you, you are already pondering the qualities you need in your recruits-to-be: kids who dumb and cow-like and easily dominated.<br/>
<br/>
It will be easier, though, once you've recruited Frank to your side.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Feed me!" you bellow as you walk in the front door. The sound of water running in the kitchen sink abruptly ceases, and Frank's head appears around the corner. "You leave anything for a <i>real</i> man to gnaw on?"<br/>
<br/>
"How was your play date?" he asks. You answer by clutching your head and writhing melodramatically in place. "Win, lose, or did you just wanna kill him?"<br/>
<br/>
"All three." You brush past Frank and jerk open the pantry door, to stare critically at the mostly bare shelves. "He beat me on points but I beat him in sportsmanship, and then I just wanted to beat him until he bled." You frown. "Explain to me how six cans of soup divided into two equal portions results in <i>you</i> eating <i>four</i> of them."<br/>
<br/>
"Dynamic scoring, Joe. Static analysis doesn't work in household economics any more than it works in macroeconomics."<br/>
<br/>
"You've been snooping through my browser history," you cry. "And by thunder, you actually <i>understood</i> that paper?"<br/>
<br/>
"You left the browser window open when you left. And there wasn't any math."<br/>
<br/>
"No, but there were words of three syllables. One of these days Dunholm is gonna figure out you're just making shit up. Probably the next time you substitute 'asymptotic' for 'asymptomatic' in Health class."<br/>
<br/>
"One of these days you'll slip up and use one of <i>those</i> words in public," he says primly. <br/>
<br/>
"Hey baby," you say in your "Goofy" voice. "Your butt must be asymptotic, because it's making me sympathetic to your ass."<br/>
<br/>
"Now you sound like Karter." <br/>
<br/>
You flip him off and grab a bag of ramen. "I'm getting real tired of this low-carb, low-protein, low-fat diet," you grumble. "I think maybe I'll get an after-school job."<br/>
<br/>
"Then you won't have time for girls. And we won't be around here long enough to make it worthwhile."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, maybe there'll be a cute— Wait a minute, whaddaya mean we won't be around long?" You feel yourself pale. "Did Dad call? Is he pulling us out?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. But the longer we go without a real lead, the greater the chance we're just going to have to quit."<br/>
<br/>
"I <i>hate</i> the idea of quitting," you say with quiet heat. <br/>
<br/>
"So do I, Joe, but we have to face facts. Whoever has got the <i>Libra</i> has got the means to make himself invisible, and he can take off in any direction at any time."<br/>
<br/>
"If he's figured it out," you say skeptically as you fill a pot with water. "From everything Reilly told us, it's not a book for amateurs."<br/>
<br/>
"Reilly's never seen it," Frank reminds you. "No one's seen it in a couple of hundred years. Except, yeah, whoever has been keeping it back."<br/>
<br/>
"Look, given the kind of things it's supposed to be able to do, it just stands to reason it's gonna be too complicated for its new owner."<br/>
<br/>
"We can't count on that. And I can quote you making that exact point," he adds quietly.<br/>
<br/>
"The Devil can always cite Scripture to his purposes," you grin as you dump the noodles into the water.<br/>
<br/>
"You still think it's Sawyer Harrison?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"He's suspect number one. Fuck up that it sounds like he is."<br/>
<br/>
Frank puts his hands on his hips. "You've also said you don't like the way the <i>Libra</i> seems to be jumping around. Not going to where it's supposed to, and then disappearing from where it wound up. You said it was like something was <i>pulling</i> it."<br/>
<br/>
"And you told me I was full of shit."<br/>
<br/>
"And you are. Maybe that's why you're so good at reading entrails."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, leave the conceptual punwork to me, Frank!"<br/>
<br/>
"Point is— You pick up anything more with that thing Nash lent you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Carpal tunnel syndrome," you snap. "I'da told you if I got something, Frank."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Heel,</i> Joe. Patterson must've really got you stirred up if you're snapping at me like this."<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry," you mutter. "We're just not finding anything, and <i>that</i> could mean <i>anything,</i> and I hate the idea of ditching this job because we think it's been carried off by Sideshow Bob when it's actually just sitting on Frasier Crane's bookshelf because it looks like an antique."<br/>
<br/>
"If it's sitting on someone's bookshelf because it looks old, we never will find it," Frank says. "And Dad's not gonna pay rent on this place forever."<br/>
<br/>
You tug at your lip. "How about we give Rick until Saturday to give us a lead," you say at last. "After that, we talk to Reilly and Nash about some other ways to narrow the search area."<br/>
<br/>
Frank laughs dryly. "I'm not talking about pulling out <i>tomorrow</i>, Joe, or next week or even next month. There's still that stash we found in the gym sub-basement. As long it's untouched, it's a pretty good bet our quarry is still in town and still figuring things out."<br/>
<br/>
"Or it's Sawyer Harrison."<br/>
<br/>
"Or it's Sawyer. But to circle back to where we started, there's not much point in your getting a job. We're either going to be busy, or we're going to be gone."<br/>
<br/>
"You thought I was serious when I said I wanted to get a job?" you cry in mock astonishment. "Then when would I have time for girls?"<br/>
<br/>
His brow darkens.<br/>
<br/>
"I can never tell when you're fucking with me and when you're not," he says, and stalks from the kitchen.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Frank spends the rest of the evening working on homework, while you slump in front of the cheap laptop that the two of you share, reviewing the notes on your investigation. You, of course, can clear up some of the mysteries that have baffled them—like, for instance, the current location of the <i>Summa Libra Personae</i>; it's in the kit in Joe's bedroom—but they're also dealing with some puzzles that leave you frowning.<br/>
<br/>
The last known location of the <i>Libra</i> was in upstate New York, where it had been among the effects left by a just-deceased elderly woman. It's less important how news of the <i>Libra</i> had gotten to operatives of the Stellae Errantes (that's the secret society of which Frank and Joe are members), just that it had. It looked to be an easy job, which is why "Dad" had given the boys the task of swooping in and carrying it off so that it could be disposed of safely, but Frank and Joe had arrived too late, and found that the book and several seemingly related items had not only vanished, they had been somehow detoured away from their intended destination. Traces and inquiries had led them to Saratoga Falls, where—and this is one of the eerier coincidences—it had briefly landed at Salopek Engineering, on the desk of one Harris Prescott. The boys staged a nocturnal raid on the facility, but come up empty handed. Oh, they had found the box that it had been mailed in, but said box had been ransacked and most of its contents carried off. <br/>
<br/>
Then they had learned that several of the high school students who had worked at Salopek had been sacked not long after the box would have arrived in town, and that two of them had suffered severe accidents. One of them, Sawyer Harrison, had fallen into a mysterious coma, and a second, Taylor Mitchell, had died the same afternoon in a car wreck. That led Joe and Frank to enroll at Eastman High School (which those suspects had been attending), and there they have been since, finding only one lead: a box hidden in a sub-basement, containing a mask and a notebook whose contents were clearly related to the <i>Libra.</i> They had left the box undisturbed but set a watch on it, to see who would pick it up. It is still there.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm off to bed," Frank announces around ten, while you're still puzzling over how the elements of their adventures fit into yours—especially that box in the sub-basement. You wave to him vaguely as he goes into the back yard, where he sleeps every night. You feel like you've reached a dead end of your own, though, and slump back to think about your own plans.<br/>
<br/>
They're all mixed up with Patterson's plans, though. He wants you to get three recruits over at Eastman. But they'd just likely get in the way.<br/>
<br/>
But he is going to want reports on your progress, and he might want to meet them, in which case you will want people to show him. <br/>
<br/>
Also—it occurs to you—if you are doing the recruiting, you can recruit them not only to the "club" but as allies against Patterson.</span></div></div>


path: 111231222122122121111122211112211212222
author_id: seuzz
title: Changing Frank's Mind
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Yes, you could use some allies, you decide, and drum your fingers, thinking of possibilities, but don't settle on anyone before retreating to the bedroom, to pretend to sleep. It will be a few hours before Frank is in a deep enough slumber that you can ambush him.<br/>
<br/>
You change into pajama bottoms and stretch out on the bed. It's well short of midnight, and you have a few hours to kill. You wish the masks copied more than just body prints and minds. Frank and Joe aren't just members of a secret society, but of a special kind of secret society. There <i>is</i> magic in the world—the <i>Libra</i> proves that—but there are also natural-born magicians, people capable of wielding arcane powers. Some of Joe's "prodigies" (as he and the other Stellae call them) are more like tricks: He can get people to talking about themselves in embarrassingly honest ways, and he can cast the illusion of being in two places at once. But he can also manipulate time, and as you close your eyes while fighting off the desire to sleep, you are wishing you could fast-forward to two o'clock.<br/>
<br/>
Well, you do wind up fast-forwarding, but through the regular means of dropping off accidentally into a cat nap. Two-fifty-one, the clock flashes when you jerk up and glance at it. <i>Good enough.</i><br/>
<br/>
You stealthily creep into the back yard with one of the blank masks Patterson gave you. Frank is stretched out under the big tree in the corner. Quickly but lightly you approach him.<br/>
<br/>
You're right by his side when he sits bolt upright. "Joe?" he says in a puzzled voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Sort of," you say, thinking quickly. "I'm projecting again. I guess I must've heard something. You're sleeping lightly," you add.<br/>
<br/>
"The vegetation is uneasy," he says. "I noticed as soon as I lay down. Took forever to go to sleep." It's dark, but he must have noticed the mask in your hand. "What's that," he says, and his voice is sharp.<br/>
<br/>
"I must be dreaming," you improvise. "I know I'm asleep in the bedroom. Got the <i>Libra</i> on my mind. Remember the time in Vera Cruz when I went cruising the streets with an Aztec zombie priest? Listen," you hastily continue. "I've been thinking about that box in the sub-basement, and Harrison and Mitchell. How do we know the third guy is still at Eastman? It could've been Bickelmeir. He also got fired from Salopek, and he moved to Westside. Maybe it's him."<br/>
<br/>
"We've been over that. There's no evidence he was with them that afternoon. All the reports say it was just Harrison and Mitchell at the school that day."<br/>
<br/>
"But if there was a third guy, and we've been assuming there was, then why couldn't it have been Bickelmeir?"<br/>
<br/>
Frank leans back on his elbows with a sigh. "This is something to talk about in the morning, and we've been over it before. The stuff is still at Eastman."<br/>
<br/>
"And no one's touched it." You kneel next to him, mask tensed in your hands. "While waiting for Rick, maybe we should check out Westside more thoroughly. I made a contact over there this afternoon through Patterson."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," he says slowly. He's quiet for a moment, then points at the mask. "Lemme see that thing."<br/>
<br/>
"It's not real. I told you, I'm projecting inside a dream. I'm not even here."<br/>
<br/>
"Lemme see it," he says in a harder tone of voice, and raises a hand.<br/>
<br/>
Luckily, Joe has a swiftness that is not entirely a product of his magical ability, and you shove the mask past his hand; your aim is also true, and with a jolting blow slap the mask directly onto Frank's face. He falls back like a felled tree.<br/>
<br/>
Your heart hammers in your chest, but you've no time to relax. Gritting your teeth, you tear Joe's mask from your own face while willing yourself to stay awake. A cry escapes your lips as you are wrapped by what feels like an inferno of flame. Vertigo seizes you, and when next you are able to collect your wits you find yourself slumped across Frank's torso. Shakily you raise yourself up. You are trembling all over.<br/>
<br/>
When the mask reappears on Frank's face you gently lift it off and put Joe's mask onto him. Even in the dark you can see the glint in his eyes as he opens them. "Fucker," he says softly.<br/>
<br/>
"You have to do what I say," you remind him.<br/>
<br/>
"I know, but I don't have to like it."<br/>
<br/>
"Just keep quiet. Stay there."<br/>
<br/>
You retreat into the house and to the bedroom, where you fish through the bag to retrieve the golem-making kit. You feel sick on adrenaline as you work, burning the substances—and some of your own hair—into Frank's mask. Back outside you take Joe's mask off Frank and put the newly treat mask onto him. <br/>
<br/>
His hand instantly goes to your throat. "Leggo!" you croak, and he drops you. "Sit back and shut up. No, wait," you correct yourself as he pulls away. "Let's go in the house."<br/>
<br/>
"Who are you?" he roughly demands as you lead him inside.<br/>
<br/>
"No one you know. Sit down and keep your hands to yourself. Don't move a muscle. I'll be right back."<br/>
<br/>
You feel better after changing back into Joe's form, but Frank seethes at your reappearance. "I will break you," he says in a voice that is as heavy and implacable as a millstone. "I will liquefy your bones and squeeze them out through your asshole. I will turn you inside out and strip you of all your guts and arteries. I will stuff what's left of you with salt and raw lemons and nail you to a tree. And then I'll get <i>mean.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
Even Joe's spirit quakes before this display of anger. But it's a rage against his new impotence as much as it is against you. <br/>
<br/>
No, the challenge now is to get him rewired so that he won't act this way in public, and won't try to double-cross you in private.<br/>
<br/>
Fortunately, Joe knows his adopted brother intimately, and has a pretty good idea of where the switches are. It's just a matter of psychological jujitsu.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm your friend, Frank," you quietly say. "You believe that. You also believe that the real villain is at Westside. He had the <i>Libra.</i> I got it away from him. But we have to use it. He is very dangerous, and we have to take care of him before we can end our mission."<br/>
<br/>
"Who is it?" Frank says. He still looks pissed beyond measure, but now his anger has been entirely redirected.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. There are masks involved. That is why we have to be very careful. We have to use his weapons against him. That's what you believe."<br/>
<br/>
He wavers, but yes, he believes. "Why do you have to use them against us—against me and Joe?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's for your own safety. If you were still yourselves, you'd go charging in, and he'd destroy you. But now that you're hidden, you're safe. You can fight him, but carefully and secretly. Under my direction. I am in charge of the mission, and you accept that."<br/>
<br/>
That last directive is the key: Frank is a great believer in following orders. His eyes snap to attention. "So what's the plan?"<br/>
<br/>
"We need more camouflage. More blinds. We also need agents of our own. We will make many masks at Eastman, and we will recruit three subsidiary agents to get them. We need more masks than the two of us can make. They will help us."<br/>
<br/>
He nods grimly. "Why can't we tell Dad, the other Stellae?"<br/>
<br/>
Good; he has already accepted the implied need to keep the change in status and mission secret. "Because he gave the mission to <i>us.</i> You know Dad. He doesn't micromanage. Do not mention any of this to Dad. As far as he and the others know, nothing has changed."<br/>
<br/>
Frank's gaze turns inward, then clears, and he nods. <br/>
<br/>
"Good. One more thing. I may need to wear Frank's mask at some points. You will not object to the switches." You regard him carefully. All the anger and bewilderment has vanished. Now he just looks determined. "We'll have to use our wits, Frank," you say by way of closing. "None of our other tricks."<br/>
<br/>
"We haven't been using them anyway," he says with a faint smile.<br/>
<br/>
"That's the spirit. Now back to bed. That cat nap didn't do much for me, and you'll also want to catch up on the Zzzzs." <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You are pleased the next morning to find no apparent change in Frank's regular demeanor. His questions and comments are those of one devoted to the changed mission. "Which side is Patterson on in this fight?" he asks as the two of you eat breakfast. "I assume he's mixed up in it."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, but he's on the other side. I managed to slip past him to get to Joe. If you see Patterson—which you shouldn't—treat him normally. Same thing at school. Leave all the planning and doing to me. Just be yourself. You know," you can't resist adding. "Dumb but brainy."<br/>
<br/>
He smiles narrowly at you: a blessedly "normal" reaction.<br/>
<br/>
As for recruits at school: You need three of them to satisfy Patterson. Three boys, three dipshits, like Patterson found in you and Caleb and Keith. Shouldn't be hard. Tempt them with girls, like Patterson tempted you. But which girls?<br/>
<br/>
A light goes off over your head: Girls. Why do you have to recruit boys? Why not recruit girls as sub-agents instead? One obvious choice would be Ursula Jensen, a would-be mystic and self-professed channeler of the occult.<br/>
<br/>
* Pick someone else (non-canonical choice): "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/2236945/action/view/chapter_map/1112312221221221211111222111122112122222" target="_top" title="Interactive Story Chapter in Item # 2236945">The Freshman Candidate</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/2236945/action/view/chapter_map/1112312221221221211111222111122112122222" target="_blank" title="Open in new window."><img border="0" height="12" loading="lazy" onmouseout="$(this).css('opacity', '.4');" onmouseover="$(this).css('opacity', '1');" src="https://www.Writing.Com/nw.gif" style="opacity:.4;" width="12"/></a> </span></div></div>


path: 1112312221221221211111222111122112122221
author_id: seuzz
title: Some Lectures and Answers
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>Girls! It'd be perfect!</i><br/>
<br/>
You grin to yourself. You've used girl disguises to get close to other girls; it would be shorter to just have girls as operatives. Homely girls, girls who are jealous of other girls and want their boyfriends. Girls who will react well when Joe Durras smiles at them and takes them aside and shows them how they can get what they want, if only they do what he asks—and will thrill at the thought that Joe Durras might give them <i>more.</i><br/>
<br/>
And Ursula would be a good place to start.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Read any good horoscopes lately?" You hook a foot behind the leg of a chair to pull it out, then drop heavily into it. <br/>
<br/>
Ursula Jensen looks up from her cell phone with a sour look.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, make fun of me," she mutters. She lowers her head, and resumes tapping at her cell phone.<br/>
<br/>
"Do I look like I'm making fun of you?" You lean forward, and cup your chin in your hand. "Maybe I'd like a reading."<br/>
<br/>
She doesn't look amused. "I'm not trained to give readings."<br/>
<br/>
"You need a license?" you gasp.<br/>
<br/>
She just gives you a look.<br/>
<br/>
Ursula Jensen is not beautiful, but she has a foggy kind of prettiness, as though her face just needs to come into focus. It's a baby face, and the infantile element is only accented by the blue pallor of her eyes. Her blonde hair has no volume, and is cut flat in a page-boy style. The severity of her hair is, perhaps a stab at balancing the babyish cast of her face, as is perhaps the rather frumpy pant-suit wardrobe. <br/>
<br/>
She taps away and glances at you, and taps away and glances at you, and you can see the cogs turning in her mind. What do you want, and how should she handle you? The texting is probably just an excuse to give her time to think, for she draws herself up decisively at the same instant she puts the phone down. "So what do you want?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, I want a reading. Or maybe not. But if I wanted to talk about the moon and the sun and the stars and the astral plane, you <i>would</i> be the person I'd come to."<br/>
<br/>
Her lip curls. "Is that what you're here for?"<br/>
<br/>
You enfold her question in an impudent smile. "Yeah, let's go with that excuse. Tell me what you know."<br/>
<br/>
She doesn't answer for something like a full minute, and you can tell that she is having to fight down her skepticism of your motives. She rolls her eyes as she says, "Well, I can tell you a little bit about the constellations and their properties."<br/>
<br/>
You favor her with a wider smile, and she takes it as an invitation. You drink in her words as she extemporizes a short lecture. In fact, the constellations have no significance whatsoever, except insofar as magicians have employed them as elements in their spells. They are just accidental patterns glimpsed in the sky, and have as much to do with magic as faces that appear in clouds. But you don't say any of this as, flattered by your attention, she gradually warms up. After a few minutes, you rip a sheet of paper from a notebook, click open a mechanical pencil, and start doodling. <br/>
<br/>
She lets you go for a bit, then falters as your hand continues to move swiftly across the paper. "What's that?" she finally says.<br/>
<br/>
"It's nothing," you tell her. "Not yet. I'm listening." You repeat her last seven sentences back to her, verbatim except for the uhs and ums. She turns a little pink, perhaps in surprise that you are paying such close attention, and resumes with more vigor and excitement. You break away from her eyes only long enough to write out a few complicated equations. "Tell me about the planets," you murmur when it sounds like she's run out of words.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, wow, that's, like— Okay." She takes another deep breath and launches into a rather more fragmentary account of them. This is even worse nonsense than the stuff about the constellations. Joe knows all about the planets, for they are the real powers by which the group that Joe and Frank belongs to derive their prodigies. Knowledge, Language, Generation, Errantry, Discipline, Lordship, Judgment, Evolution, Metamorphosis, Industry: there are echoes of these in what Ursula says, but only the way there are echoes of meteorology in primitive legends about angry sky gods. But you smile widely at what she says, and she takes it as encouragement.<br/>
<br/>
"Tell me about yourself," you say when she again dries up.<br/>
<br/>
Now she does turn red, and looks away. "I don't know," she says, as though suddenly tongue-tied.<br/>
<br/>
"So when's your birthday? What year? Where were you born? What time? How many siblings do you have? When were they born? How old are your parents? Where are they from?" She answers each of these as you ask, and you begin filling in the chart with her answers. Gradually, your questions become more and more random: "What's your favorite letter of the alphabet? If you could turn yourself into any animal, what would it be? Do you sleep better on your back or on your side?" Eventually they slide into near nonsense. "What would you guess is the third most disgusting thing you ever unintentionally ate? Does a clock go tick-tock or tock-tick? If you could ask it, would a spider want more legs, fewer legs, or the same number?" Her bemusement turns to incredulity, but you've drawn her in with honey-coated threads, and she just giggles as she answers. And still her answers go onto the paper. <br/>
<br/>
You could have stopped at any time, for early on you saw that her astrological chart—the real kind of chart, not the flummery of fakirs—wasn't going to reveal anything interesting. But when you've judged you've dragged it on long enough, you click the pencil shut and slide the sheet toward her. She gives you a skeptical but amused look before bending over it. She gasps, as well she should at the dense web of circles, polygons, tangents, arcs and mass of symbols and equations laid out neatly along all the margins and inside all the empty spaces. "What is this?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"It's a portrait of you. A sketch, based on what you told me." You smile. "A real horoscope."<br/>
<br/>
She gives you a look. "I've seen real charts."<br/>
<br/>
"No you haven't," and there's a snap in your voice and your smile fades. You daunt her with a meaningful look. "I wanted to talk to you because you're the only person who would take it seriously. Look at it carefully."<br/>
<br/>
Her own smile has vanished, and she keeps glancing up at you as she looks back down at the paper. Her finger traces over and through it, then stabs at it. "That's the symbol for Uranus," she exclaims. "How did you know—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Inference from what you told me." In fact, she has no more connection to Uranus than to Zimbabwe, but you have inferred that she thinks she does, and so doodled it into an open space. <br/>
<br/>
Elsewhere she finds a stack of six constellation signs arranged in a pyramid. Her own sign is at the top, and she studies the other five carefully. Her lips move, and she nods. "Yes, that makes sense," she says uncertainly. You stop yourself from rolling your eyes. "Are these Chinese characters," she gasps over another cluster.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. Year of the Dog. It doesn't mean much, but it works as a convenient translation term between the solar and sidereal functions. The real number expressing their proportionality is irrational, so it's easier to make the calculation by using a transformational derivative."<br/>
<br/>
You say this in a very bored tone—and it really is too boring to talk about—but that tone is probably what convinces her. She raises her head slowly and stares searchingly into your eyes. You bluntly return her challenge. And when she swallows, you can read her thoughts: <i>This guy isn't the idiot everyone says he is.</i><br/>
<br/>
You lean across the table and whisper at her: "We've been watching you for a few weeks now. Me and Frank. Trying to figure out if we could trust you. Can we?"<br/>
<br/>
"Trust me with what?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"This." You tap the paper, then sweep it up and fold it into a smile packet. "Real secrets. You're the only one we've seen who has an open mind. People like you—like <i>us</i>—are very rare."<br/>
<br/>
Her nostrils flare.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Joe, who won the Spanish-American War?" Ms. Cussler's harsh voice cuts sharply through your reverie. You look up guiltily to see her leaning against the lectern in that very tired way she has when her patience is gasping along on fumes.<br/>
<br/>
"The Spanish-American War?" You gulp. "Um ... The Spanish-Americans?"<br/>
<br/>
Snickers—some of them quite nasty—go up from the rest of the class. <i>Joe Dumbass strikes again.</i> Cussler grips the lectern. "Take another guess," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, um ... The French?" More laughs. You snap your fingers. "Oh, I know. We did! Boo-yah! U-S-A! U-S-A!"<br/>
<br/>
"Whaddaya mean 'we,' paleface," Geoff Dunholm snickers. You shoot him a dirty look.<br/>
<br/>
"Joe, can I ask you a question?" Cussler asks in a tone that implies she'll provide the answer.<br/>
<br/>
"You may fire when ready, Gridley," you reply with all the archness you can muster.<br/>
<br/>
And you thought she looked pained before. With a deep sigh, she returns to her lecture, and you return to Ursula's chart.<br/>
<br/>
You need a mask that you can show to her, and you'd hoped a reading of her chart would give you clues to who she would be tempted by. No dice: She seems astonishingly self-possessed.<br/>
<br/>
Well, then, you're just going to have to tell her a lie about why you need masks of people. In a sense that makes it easier, for you'll just pick girls you would like to grab. Becky Torres would be nice. So would Alyssa Randal, or most any of the cheerleaders.<br/>
<br/>
But maybe that would set off alarm bells in Ursula's head. Your eyes flick over to Darcy Whitehead. Cool, cerebral, slightly neurotic: yes, you could fashion a convincing "story" around why <i>she</i> needed to be copied.</span></div></div>


path: 11123122212212212111112221111221121222211
author_id: seuzz
title: In Which Lots of Lies Get Told
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Why does everyone laugh at me?" you ask Darcy as you fall in next to her as you exit the classroom together.<br/>
<br/>
"You know why. You're not <i>that</i> dumb."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, come on, I got it right eventually! She just surprised me."<br/>
<br/>
"If you paid attention in class—"<br/>
<br/>
"Are we even studying the Whosits-American War?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, we're studying the Hundred Years' War," she snaps sarcastically.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh God." You stop dead in the hall. "I'll never cram a hundred years in time for the final. Well, you know, this stuff is boring. I can't concentrate on it for— Oh hey, Sandra!"<br/>
<br/>
"Hi Joe!"<br/>
<br/>
"You changed your hair! I like it!" The girl giggles as you reach up to brush one of her bangs back. "Come show it to me tomorrow," you tell her, then run to catch up to Darcy. "If I had someone to help me, I'd do better."<br/>
<br/>
"Doesn't your brother help?"<br/>
<br/>
"He's ugly." She gives you a look. "Also, he doesn't give crap about my grades. He thinks I'm a lost cause."<br/>
<br/>
"Our families know us best."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, what if you and me got together?" You tug her elbow. "After practice this afternoon, in the school library? You could go over your own notes, tell me about all the stuff I missed."<br/>
<br/>
"You were sitting in the same room I was. Why can't you pay attention in there?"<br/>
<br/>
"I can't listen to Cussler. She's too old."<br/>
<br/>
Darcy stops and looks at you directly. "So, I'm not old, I'm not ugly, and I'm not your brother. That makes me your natural tutor?"<br/>
<br/>
"It makes you perfect!"<br/>
<br/>
She looks very skeptical, and it is clear she is about to tell you to fuck off. But something behind you catches her attention, and her eyes freeze. When she looks back at you, her smile is a wide, sharp thing. "I'd love to, Joe," she gushes. "Meet you at four?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah!" you say, turning your surprise to excitement. She smiles again, and walks away with a very pronounced swing in her hips. <br/>
<br/>
You return whence you came, but make a bad stumble and almost sprawl to the floor. "Sorry about that, Dumbass," comes a voice. You turn to find Adam Karter smiling at you.<br/>
<br/>
You grin back, and mime shooting a pistol at his head.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You give instructions to Frank during basketball practice, and afterward meet Darcy. "Whoa, this is gonna be serious," you gasp, for she has a book open and several sheets of paper spread out on the table.<br/>
<br/>
"If we're going to do this, it <i>is</i> going to be serious," she replies.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes ma'am," you gulp, and sit down, holding yourself very straight.<br/>
<br/>
Twenty minutes of facile generalization about late-nineteenth century imperialism follow. You feign rapt attention while tamping down every desire to correct the plenitude of grotesque simplifications and mischaracterizations. She seems to doubt you are actually listening, and Cussler-like will interrupt her own lecture to have you repeat something; you parrot it all back perfectly. She grows increasingly querulous. "Why can't you get this in class?" "It wouldn't last." "Try." "Gimme a pop quiz tomorrow." She rolls her eyes.<br/>
<br/>
At four-twenty on the dot, Frank enters. "I'm leaving," he snaps. "Do this at home, or walk."<br/>
<br/>
"We haven't even got to the first Moroccan Crisis!" you exclaim.<br/>
<br/>
"What did you say?" Darcy's eyes pop. <br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I remember <i>that</i> from class," you smoothly extemporize. "I think you weren't there that day. Cussler said 'Moroccan crisis', and I thought she said 'maraca crisis.' You know—" You hang your head in shame as you snap your fingers in a flamenco rhythm.<br/>
<br/>
"Those are castanets," Frank says. "Come on, you can be stupid at home."<br/>
<br/>
"Come with?" you ask Darcy with desperate hopefulness. "Have supper with us?"<br/>
<br/>
"You should," Frank says. "If you don't he'll just play on his Xbox."<br/>
<br/>
"We have an Xbox?" Your jaw drops.<br/>
<br/>
"No, which is why it's so embarrassing to watch you sit in the front of the TV going 'ptchoo ptchoo'." <br/>
<br/>
You show him your teeth. "Shut! Up! The only reason people think I'm dumb is because you go around telling them I am."<br/>
<br/>
"The only reason I tell people you're dumb is because they can't believe you're as dumb as you seem. I just confirm their suspicions."<br/>
<br/>
"You should definitely come with us," you tell Darcy. "I'll beat him to death if there aren't isn't anyone to stop me."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Darcy follows you home, but she doesn't stay long, and leaves in a bad humor. She has reason. No one likes to sit at a table as a stupid jock teenage boy charges his smart-aleck older brother for badmouthing him once too often, and then have said smart-aleck brother back into oneself and bang one's head against a glass sliding door, knocking one's self cold for nearly ten minutes. After Darcy goes, you and Frank recompose your distraught features into expressions of quiet satisfaction and calmly high five each other. In the scrum, she never noticed the mask going onto her face.<br/>
<br/>
After that you call Ursula while Frank seals up the mask for you. While he does that, you prepare lots of fake, complicated sigils on several big sheets of paper.<br/>
<br/>
You have them spread over the table when she arrives. You greet her with grave cheer, and Frank—again, as per your instructions—fetches her a diet soda before perching quietly nearby, to listen alertly and "follow your lead."<br/>
<br/>
You start by pointing to the sheet in the middle. "Recognize those symbols?"<br/>
<br/>
She peers at them, and—can't she read without using her finger?—traces over them with a fingertip. "The twelve constellations. And nine planets. Well, the Moon instead of the Earth—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. You recognize that one in the middle?" She shakes her head. "You wouldn't. That's Lemuria." She looks puzzled. "The Atlantis of the South Seas?" You'd have thought she'd be up on <i>that</i> crap, at least.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe she is, for she sucks her breath in sharply. "I read a book about that once, when I was a kid—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, and that's about the age to read it," you snap. "At least, if you're going to read the books they carry in the 'occult' sections of bookstores." You blow a raspberry. "Let's get one thing straight," you tell her, and jab a finger at her face. "The stuff you find in the book stores and on the internet? It has about as much to do with real shit as Hans Christian Anderson has to do with Einstein. They're fairy tales, and bad fairy tales at that."<br/>
<br/>
She looks hurt and crushed.<br/>
<br/>
"Now, Lemuria comes into alignment only once every couple of hundred years, and it only opens with a fresh set of keys. And by 'fresh' I mean <i>fresh.</i> You can't prepare for it ahead of time, which is why we need your help, and the help of a couple of other people. We have to move fast."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean by 'keys'?"<br/>
<br/>
"These things." You point to the symbols. "Twelve constellations and nine planets. Twenty-one. Three times seven. You understand the significance of <i>that</i>, of course." Ursula nods fervently, and you lean back to nudge Frank so he won't smirk. <br/>
<br/>
"Now, the last couple of times we were able to use <i>people,</i> which is what you're supposed to use, but people aren't nearly as receptive to this kind of thing nowadays. Even the assholes who write that trash you've read don't understand the real—"<br/>
<br/>
"Wait, 'the last couple of times'?" Her face clouds. "I thought you said this only happens every couple of hundred years."<br/>
<br/>
You smile meaningfully. "How old do you think we are? Frank and me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Seventeen?" she says, a little uncertainly. "Eighteen?" You shake your head slowly. "How old?"<br/>
<br/>
"Multiply those numbers by a couple of dozen. Think about it. Could a couple of kids know how to do all this? <i>You think if I told her my cum was cake frosting I could get her to swallow it too?</i>" you ask Frank in a private language that only you and he can speak. "That was ancient Lemurian," you tell Ursula in English. "My first language. I should have grown up speaking old Celtic, but a changeling got put in for me. Frank at least got to learn Latin before they took <i>him.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
She looks bewildered. "Who's 'they'?"<br/>
<br/>
"The Lemurians," you say with exaggerated patience. "Stories about them still survive in legends about the 'Fair Folk'."<br/>
<br/>
She leans back. Her tone is very measured when she speaks. "You're saying you guys are ... Lemurians?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, not technically. But maybe, technically, yes, there aren't any original Lemurians left. Just changelings like us. That's what makes getting back and forth so tricky."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't understand." Her tone is growing more skeptical.<br/>
<br/>
You sigh.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, I'm not going to lie to you," you tell her. "We're not really good people, Frank and me." Her glance shifts rapidly between the two of you. Frank shrugs. "We're exiles. And we're not like royal exiles either. We're more like gangbangers. Every couple of hundred years we break back in, make off with some swag, set a few fires. They're a lot of assholes, frankly, but so are we, and we like to <i>remind</i> them that we're still out here and still totally deserving of what they did to us. Still, it's a lot of fun, and there's no real danger in it. Just excitement." You twitch your eyebrows and grin. "You should come with us. It'd be a once-every-couple-of-lifetimes chances for you, crossing over to get a look at the place when the horizon opens."<br/>
<br/>
Darcy gives you a very even stare.<br/>
<br/>
"I think you're bullshitting me," she says, and gathers herself to leave.</span></div></div>


path: 111231222122122121111122211112211212222111
author_id: seuzz
title: Ursula Takes the Bait
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"You want proof?" you shout to her retreating back. "There's proof." You pull Darcy's mask from your bag and drop it onto the table with a loud clatter.<br/>
<br/>
Ursula glares over her shoulder. "What's that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, whaddaya care?" you reply contemptuously. <br/>
<br/>
She bites at her lip, but takes a few steps back to stare down at it. Her brow furrows. "It's some kind of mask?"<br/>
<br/>
"What do you care," you repeat, enunciating each word a little more carefully. "Do you want to learn something, or do you already know it all?"<br/>
<br/>
She gives you a dirty look, but casually picks up the mask. "What's supposed to be special about a--" She catches her breath. "There's a face in it," she mutters.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, you do have eyes. But it's not a face. It's <i>imago.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"A what?"<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Imago.</i> Image, you might translate it, but more like 'form'. The metaphysical whatsits that, for instance, makes one lump of bronze into a bell and another lump of bronze into a statue of a bull." You gesture at it. "In this case, it's the stuff that makes a lump of meat into Darcy Whitehead."<br/>
<br/>
"Darcy Whitehead?" Ursula gasps. She peers down more carefully at the mask. "It does look like Darcy."<br/>
<br/>
You roll your eyes. "Yeah, it does, because we pulled it off her, like a wax impression."<br/>
<br/>
Ursula's lips tighten. "It looks cool, but what does it have to do--"<br/>
<br/>
"With Lemuria and the alignment?" You sigh impatiently. "I told you, we need twenty-one keys. Twenty-one people. But we can't get twenty-one people. We can't even get three, because <i>you</i>--who of all people shouldn't be getting all science-y bullshitty on us--won't even listen. So go ahead. Take off. I only got so much breath." You gesture at the door dismissively.<br/>
<br/>
Ursula sits down in the chair, folds her arms, and sticks out her lower lip. "You said you had proof. So prove it."<br/>
<br/>
You draw the moment out for a few seconds by looking at Frank. He shrugs and looks away. "Okay, last chance," you say. "We need twenty-one people, but we can't get twenty-one people, so we're going to get twenty-one <i>imago</i>. These things. Twenty-one masks. Well, nineteen, because Frank and me make two, and maybe eighteen, if we can count on you. For the others, though, we need substitutes, and for that we can use <i>imago.</i> Basically, we get eighteen or nineteen people, put these masks on them, then when it comes time to open the gate we use those masks as substitutes for the keys. We've done it before, though we didn't have to make so many masks in the past."<br/>
<br/>
"Do these things hurt people," Ursula asks suspiciously. <br/>
<br/>
"No worse than using Silly Putty on the funny papers. Not even as bad. It's like a Xerox machine. Mind you, it can be a little tricky getting the masks onto them. People don't much like it and they don't volunteer."<br/>
<br/>
She is clearly wavering. "Is this, like, more of that Lemurian magic?"<br/>
<br/>
You snicker. "No, these things were invented, if that's the word, in the seventeenth century. Guy called 'La Fer.' Well," you add in a malicious tone, "that's what he was called after he accidentally ripped his own face off with a malformed prototype." Your grin sharpens. "They had to put him in an iron mask because the result drove people mad with horror. But all the bugs have been worked out since then."<br/>
<br/>
Ursula turns very pale. "I'm not sure I--"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh come on. Here, try it on." You push the mask at her, and she pulls back. "These things aren't actually keys. They're masks. Disguises. We're just going to use them as keys because that's the only thing they're good for, as far as <i>we're</i> concerned. But try it on, and you'll see we're not shitting you."<br/>
<br/>
"A disguise?" Her eyes widen.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. It's like a magical full-body disguise. You put it on, and you'll turn into that person, like in those movies with those hologram suits. Except it's not an illusion, it's an actual transformation. Perfect down to the tiniest detail. So put it on. You want proof? That'll prove it." You smile warmly. "It's not something we can fake. It has to be real."<br/>
<br/>
She stares at the mask, like it's a tarantula. Her hand edges clumsily toward it, and she pulls back as her fingers touch it. But slowly she puts her hands out again and picks it up, holding it as though it is very heavy. "Turn it around," you gently coax her, and she turns the mask over, and gasps to see Darcy's name floating on the inside. She gives you a very worried glance, and you gesture at her encouragingly. Gingerly, she raises it to her face, and sniffs its inside. Then she pushes it on. Instantly, she slumps in her chair.<br/>
<br/>
You catch her before she can topple to the floor, and Frank leaps to help you. "Is all that true, what you said about the Man in the Iron Mask," he quietly asks. You give him a look and tell him not to be as gullible as Ursula.<br/>
<br/>
Gently you chafe her wrists until her eyes flutter open. "Shhh," you say. "Close your eyes and relax. Let it all come into focus."<br/>
<br/>
Her eyes close, and she breathes deeply. Then her eyes pop open again. "Oh my God!" she exclaims. "Darcy! She's--! She's--!"<br/>
<br/>
"She's what?" you ask excitedly. Is there some juicy gossip you should know?<br/>
<br/>
"She's in here with me!" She frowns. "She-- I know-- I have all of her--" She swallows.<br/>
<br/>
"Memories?" you coax her. She nods uncertainly. "Yeah, you've got those, and more." You squeeze her hand. "That's <i>imago</i> for you. It's not just the physical stuff. It's all the stuff she's ever done and all the habits she's picked up."<br/>
<br/>
She looks down at her hands, and then stands up with a frown. "I'm just like her." She seems briefly overcome by dizziness, for she clutches the side of the table and steadies herself. "I-- I can act just like her. If I want." She looks at you, and her eyes narrow. "You had me-- her-- over to study so you could do this mask stuff," she says accusingly.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah!" you laugh.<br/>
<br/>
Her nostrils flare. "You're not really an idiot!"<br/>
<br/>
"No!" You laugh even harder. "I couldn't have lived as long as I have while being a moron."<br/>
<br/>
She frowns, and swallows, and abruptly sits down again. She fumbles at her face. "How do I get it off?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you like it?" She winces and doesn't answer. "Here, first of all, do you believe me now, all the stuff that I told you?" She takes a deep breath, and nods. "Good. I'll take that thing off you in a minute, but let's talk a little more first.<br/>
<br/>
"We don’t have a lot of time to get these keys made, and I don't think the three of us can get them done in time by ourselves. We need two more people. Do you know anyone who would be willing to help us out? Who would be willing to sit down and listen and let themselves be convinced, like you were?"<br/>
<br/>
"Show them these masks and they'll be convinced," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"Hmm. I was afraid of that."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, we told you the truth about why we want these things. They're keys. But no one is going to listen to that, are they? You barely did, and I had to yell at you to get you to do that much." If she feels embarrassed by her behavior, she doesn't show it. "Which means that we <i>will</i> have to use these masks, and we will have to tell people a <i>story.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"What kind of 'story'?"<br/>
<br/>
"About what the masks are for." You sigh. "We're going to have to draw people in by telling them we're making these masks to be <i>disguises.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Like how?"<br/>
<br/>
Could she really be that dense? "Well, think about what you could do with that mask. Well, maybe not Darcy's. Are there any boys who are interested in her, or that she's interested in?"<br/>
<br/>
She looks thoughtful for a moment. "Adam Karter's been-- Wait, I don't think I should say anything." She gives you a dark look.<br/>
<br/>
"That's fine. I'm not interested. But if you had a mask of, oh, Alyssa Randal, or Jessica Pearce, or Jenny Taylor--or of Kyle or Ian Carpenter or, hell, Adam Karter ... Well, you could have some ... fun." Now her eyes really do narrow. "That's what we're going to have to promise people, if we bring them in. Fun.<br/>
<br/>
"Now. Who are two people that you know and trust, who could be tempted with ... fun?"<br/>
<br/>
She has no immediate answer, and you wind up sending her home with the promise that she'll bring you some names later. Frank shakes his head. "You didn't have to give her all that bullshit about alignments and Lemuria and keys."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe not. But I had a great time making it all up."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Still, you're a little nervous, until she finds you the next day, and gives you three names. You question her closely about her choices. You know Amy Rhodes slightly, and she seems like a good choice. You're less certain about Eileen Piper, but she is good friends with the third choice: Joshua Cheswick. A guy? Maybe, if he could be reliably paired with Eileen. But putting a "couple" together might create unforeseen complications; they might be less easy to control than Amy and Eileen, who appear to be relative strangers to each other.</span></div></div>


path: 1112312221221221211111222111122112122221112
author_id: seuzz
title: Two New Recruits
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Let's go with Eileen and Joshua," you tell Ursula. You lean against your locker and smile into her face. "Keep it all nice and friendly. They're friends of yours, right? That'll make it easier. Bring them over to your place around five."<br/>
<br/>
"What should I tell them?"<br/>
<br/>
"That I was being goofy and invited you over, said you could bring some friends."<br/>
<br/>
"No, I mean about the—"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing. Leave that to me. But remember—" You touch her cheek with a fingertip. "As far as they're concerned, this is only about masks, and ... 'fun'. The whole Lemuria thing is strictly between you and me and Frank."<br/>
<br/>
Her smile turns conspiratorial, and you can tell she'd like to touch you back. You wait for her to move, and when she doesn't, you lightly brush her nose, then send her on her way.<br/>
<br/>
You turn back to your locker, and jump: "Jiminy Crickets!" you shout, for Maddy Caron is directly beside you, smiling at you. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"<br/>
<br/>
"You like everyone, don't you, Joe?" she asks with a knowing smirk. "Even the weirdos."<br/>
<br/>
"Especially the weirdos," you reply, and feel Joe's irritation at her snobbery. "So if I said I especially like you, what would you say?" Her eyes narrow. "And if I said I don't <i>especially</i> like you, what would you say?" While she puzzles over the dilemma, you change out your books. "I think Frank calls those paradoxes," you carelessly continue. "I don't know what cows have to do with it, let alone a pair of them, but Frank's a weirdo too." You dart in and plant a quick peck on Maddy's cheek. Now <i>she</i> jumps, and you plunge into the crowd with a quick laugh.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"This is so cool!" Joshua enthuses. He isn't even wearing the mask, just holding it in his hands. Eileen is still looking a wobbly after taking it off, and her smile is a little glassy. Ursula just sits back and looks between them while occasionally shooting you a meaningful glance. You wish she'd stop. But at least she chose her friends well. <br/>
<br/>
Okay, Joshua makes you a little nervous. He's one of the "creative types," though you strongly suspect his creativity, insofar as it's genuine, is powered by weed. The impression is not solely a function of his appearance, though it certainly reinforces it: His dirty blonde hair falls in tight ringlets to the bottom of his jaw and the middle of his neck; he has a scraggly goatee sitting on his chin; his short-sleeve, floral-pattern, button-down shirt is very dirty, as are his jeans. Eileen is more presentable. Her hair is almost the same color as his, but it falls in looser curls that she has bound back into a thin ponytail. This has the slightly unfortunate effect of emphasizing the size of her forehead and nose. Her eyes are also slightly protuberant. Like Joshua, she is quite skinny.<br/>
<br/>
"I love masks," Joshua continues. "Disguises." He gasps. "Could you make, like, a werewolf with one of these things? Or, like, a half-man, half-snake thing?"<br/>
<br/>
"They're not hard to make as long as you're copying real people," you reply. "Making new hybrids and stuff? I'm not sure about that. Might be complicated." Hybridizing people inside a mask is child's play. But what would you get if you tried mixing a man and a dog? <i>Something you'd want to try out on a golem first.</i><br/>
<br/>
Joshua holds out the mask at arm's length and continues to study it with shining eyes. "The only way this could be better is if you could use it to make puppets. Like, fake versions of the people you could order around. That would be <i>way</i> cool!"<br/>
<br/>
"There are definitely ways of doing that," you tell him, and all eyes turn toward you. "It's not hard to set up, though it takes some time. For right now, we'd just have to wear them ourselves." You want to mention golems, since the idea will definitely hook Joshua, but you're not sure of the effect on the others; Ursula in particular gets an uneasy look on her face.<br/>
<br/>
"But we could go around and pretend to be these people, right?" Joshua asks.<br/>
<br/>
"In theory, yes. But it could cause problems, if people caught sight of two Darcys. For right now, we keep these things close to home."<br/>
<br/>
"How do you make them?" Eileen asks.<br/>
<br/>
"That's proprietary information. And all this stays just with the five of us, okay?"<br/>
<br/>
"I still want to try them out," Joshua says. "Can I put this one on? Or is it, like, only girls can be girls?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, you can put it on. But here, if you want to play around with them in public, we should make masks of you guys, and then you can go around pretending to be each other." You snap your fingers at Frank, and from under the table he pulls out three blank masks. Bless his golemized heart, he figured out a way to make masks quickly: a power buffer lets you polish a mask up in the space of only about an hour, and last night you made three masks for your new acolytes.<br/>
<br/>
Joshua shoots Eileen a mischievous glance, but she stiffens. "Yeah, um—"<br/>
<br/>
"Just go ahead and put it on. It's okay." You lay a gentle hand on her shoulder, and massage the back of her neck. She looks at you, and at the mask you have balanced just in front of her face, then gives a tight shrug. You put it onto her face, and let her slump back in her chair.<br/>
<br/>
Joshua grabs a mask from Frank, and with another exclamation about how cool it is slams it to his own face. He falls out of his chair to the floor.<br/>
<br/>
"He's enthusiastic, isn't he?" Ursula says.<br/>
<br/>
"We want enthusiasm," you reply, and hand her a mask. "The more enthusiastic they are, the quicker we'll get this done."<br/>
<br/>
"He'll make a mess of things," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"Then why did you recommend him?"<br/>
<br/>
She takes a deep breath. "I didn't think he'd be <i>this</i> enthusiastic."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you just help keep him under control. You guys can work with each other at making your quota. You can help rein him in." You nudge her. "The mask."<br/>
<br/>
She settles back and puts it on.<br/>
<br/>
"These aren't reliable allies, Joe," Frank says after they are all unconscious.<br/>
<br/>
"They don't have to be. They just have to get the job done."<br/>
<br/>
"And when the job is done, what then?"<br/>
<br/>
"Then we'll be set up to take care of Patterson."<br/>
<br/>
He folds his arms. "I don't understand what you're thinking. It seems like you're playing multiple-dimension chess."<br/>
<br/>
"That I am, so don't try to follow. You'll just hurt your head. How are we fixed up for supplies?"<br/>
<br/>
"They just used it up. If we're going to get more masks for them, we'll need cash."<br/>
<br/>
"We can hit them up for contributions. Or we can snag Straussler. He could finance the whole enterprise with his folding money."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You don't let them take their masks home, telling them (truthfully) that you need to "seal" the masks before they can be used. "As for new disguises," you tell them, "let's keep things simple. Each of you come up with a list of names of people you'd like to try out. Five or six. After you have a list, come find me. You'll each be responsible for getting three of the names we all come up with. We'll meet tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
Joshua practically bounces out the door; the two girls follow with more dignity.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You call Patterson immediately afterward. "Yo, I got three recruits. Two girls and a guy."<br/>
<br/>
"Can they handle it?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's for me to handle, isn't it? I'm in charge over here, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"For the time being. Yeah, okay, you're senior level now. Just make sure they can get the job done. Don't help them out, either."<br/>
<br/>
"How come? I'm perfectly placed to get a bunch of people."<br/>
<br/>
"Because those are the rules," he replies. "Look, the point of this is that you have three guys who can do this themselves. You and Johansson have proved you can handle the responsibility, and I didn't give <i>you</i> any help. You make sure your three guys over at Eastman can do the same."<br/>
<br/>
"How is Keith doing?"<br/>
<br/>
"He's a fuck up. I've about given up on him." You don't like the sound of that. Before you can reply, though, Patterson continues. "If you want to keep your friend mobile, you might want to volunteer to take him off my hands."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Yikes.</i> "Yeah, okay, I'll take him."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't go easy on him."<br/>
<br/>
"I won't. Can you send him over with a blank mask? We're short on supplies over here, and the sooner I can get him set up at Eastman, the better." <br/>
<br/>
"He's still got the mask he can't get on Yumi, so he'll be armed," Patterson says. "Make him start over. Five masks."<br/>
<br/>
"That's fair. Send him over now." You give him the address and hang up with a sigh.<br/>
<br/>
It's going to be complicated with Keith also at Eastman. You could keep him hidden, let him get his own five masks secretly. Or you could introduce him to the group. But then you'd have to redistribute the assignments, lowering the quotas for each. Ursula thinks you're only going for twenty-one masks, and that you'll be sharing the burden equally. She will probably kick if you raise the total numbers to five masks each, as Patterson wants.<br/>
<br/>
* Introduce Keith to the group (Non-canonical): "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/2236945/action/view/chapter_map/11123122212212212111112221111221121222211121" target="_top" title="Interactive Story Chapter in Item # 2236945">We're In the Money</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/2236945/action/view/chapter_map/11123122212212212111112221111221121222211121" target="_blank" title="Open in new window."><img border="0" height="12" loading="lazy" onmouseout="$(this).css('opacity', '.4');" onmouseover="$(this).css('opacity', '1');" src="https://www.Writing.Com/nw.gif" style="opacity:.4;" width="12"/></a><br/>
* Keep Keith hidden (Non-canonical): "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/2236945/action/view/chapter_map/11123122212212212111112221111221121222211122" target="_top" title="Interactive Story Chapter in Item # 2236945">Doubling Darcy</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/2236945/action/view/chapter_map/11123122212212212111112221111221121222211122" target="_blank" title="Open in new window."><img border="0" height="12" loading="lazy" onmouseout="$(this).css('opacity', '.4');" onmouseover="$(this).css('opacity', '1');" src="https://www.Writing.Com/nw.gif" style="opacity:.4;" width="12"/></a></span></div></div>


path: 11123122212212212111112221111221121222211121
author_id: seuzz
title: We're In the Money
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>While waiting for Keith to show up you go for a jog: something to loosen your mind and body while figuring out how to keep him introduce him to your new recruits.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe you lose track of the time, or maybe Keith was just so freaked out he rushed right over. Whatever the reason, you find his car out front when you get back. Inside, Keith is perched on the edge of the sofa, looking very nervous. Frank is watching him with a gnomic expression on his face.<br/>
<br/>
You nod at them as you collect your breath. "So what have you two been talking about?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing," Frank says. "Your friend was full of questions. I just kept still."<br/>
<br/>
"Is that you, Will?" Keith asks. His face is pale, and his eyes dart.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, and that's Frank. Don't worry about him. He does what I tell him. Lemme change, I'll be right back."<br/>
<br/>
You're less than worried about your smelly clothes; you want a moment to think. Frank is under your control, but you've left enough of his personality in place that you have to worry a little bit about any deductions he might be making. As far as his golem knows, you're just preparing an elaborate trap for Patterson. You'll have to give him a story about Keith.<br/>
<br/>
But you'll need to get Keith set up, too. You settled on a target for him while you were jogging, so as you pull on a new shirt you call Jonathan Straussler. "How's Mr. Moneybags?" you ask when he answers.<br/>
<br/>
"I haven't <i>seen</i> my dad today," he retorts. "Life is sweet."<br/>
<br/>
"Want it sweeter? Invite me over."<br/>
<br/>
"I like it sweet, not stupid. Or would Frank be coming over too?"<br/>
<br/>
"Actually, that's the idea. Lemme hustle you at pool." He makes a confused noise. "Listen, Frank's giving me all kinds of shit about geometry. I was thinking we could come over, do a few racks, and I could show I know a few things about angles."<br/>
<br/>
"Is that the only kind of math you're good at?" He laughs. "How many degrees are there in a triangle, Joe?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Fahrenheit or Celsius?"<br/>
<br/>
"Funny, but I know you're not <i>that</i> dumb. Yeah, come on over. We'll play for money. I could use an advance on my allowance."<br/>
<br/>
"You'd only win enough to buy some bubblegum." <br/>
<br/>
Back in the main part of the house you chuck your chin at the other two. "Come on, we're gonna go see a friend, make a score. Frank, take the truck. I'll ride with Keith."<br/>
<br/>
"Why separate cars?" Frank asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Because Keith'll be going home separate. You brought a mask, didn't you, Tilley?" He fumbles at his backpack. "Good. I'll fill you in on the way. Straussler's, Frank."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"So, you never could get Yumi, huh?" you chide Keith after you're in the car. As Joe, you feel too mellow to give him the reaming he probably deserves.<br/>
<br/>
"No one would help me!" he exclaims. "Patterson's a bastard and Caleb is all smug now that he's a senior member. You disappeared. Forget Lynch or Black." He turns a pale face toward you. "I didn't think I was getting out of there alive!"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you've got a second chance now. I won't be able to help you out—"<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus, Will, come on!"<br/>
<br/>
"You won't need my help. You could probably make your quota inside forty-eight hours with the face I'm about to get you." His expression acquires a dog-like mien: earnest, hopeful, pleading. "I won't tell you about him, because you'll have him figured out as soon as we're there. What kind of people is Patterson wanting copied?"<br/>
<br/>
"He didn't say, but I assume it's like the ones he's been getting at Westside. You know, cheerleaders and girls. A guy or two, so he can get with girls he hasn't had us copy."<br/>
<br/>
"You have any idea what else he's been up to?" Keith shakes his head. "What about Caleb?"<br/>
<br/>
"He's like a pig in slop. He's playing Javits, and he's having a hell of a lot of fun hazing me." His expression turns petulant again. "It's like I don't even know him anymore!"<br/>
<br/>
That catches your ear, and you mentally pen a memo to yourself about getting together with your old friend.<br/>
<br/>
"Who are these guys?" Keith continues. He jerks his chin at you, and at the rearview mirror. <br/>
<br/>
"Just a couple of jocks. Brothers. Joe—that's this guy—is a moron, you'll see." You drum your chest. "Makes for a good hiding place, though. Frank's smart. What did he say to you when you got there?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I thought it was you, so I was all, like, Hi Will, thanks for helping me out."<br/>
<br/>
"And he said?"<br/>
<br/>
"'You're welcome. What am I supposed to do for you?' I said, Save me from Patterson. Put me in Eastman. Help me make my new quota." You grunt to yourself. There's some data for the fake Frank to chew on. "I asked what we were going to do, and he said, 'Wait for your friend to get back. He's out taking a jog.' So, I was, like, really nervous before you got back. Thought maybe I'd fucked things up."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, Frank's a fake. You know that special stuff that lets Caleb keep control of his old self? Frank's got some of it on him. I can switch between these two guys—" You look back at the truck. "And I might have to. But you'll like it better if I'm being Joe. I'll tell you if I make a switch."<br/>
<br/>
You drum your fingers against the window. You wonder what Joe will get up to if you <i>do</i> switch with Frank.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Jonathan Straussler is out front when you arrive at his place. "Out front" is a bit of a misnomer. There are no other houses visible; there are no neighbors, and, anyway, they'd all be hidden behind a screen of tall trees, which are themselves several hundred yards away from the house. The house is the biggest you've ever seen, and looks more like a small English castle that has been plopped—verdant lawn and all—in the midst of the countryside. Straussler—tall, lean, blonder even than Joe—is casually hurling a ball and sending a trim German shepherd to retrieve it. He's dressed in cream-colored khaki shorts and a crisp white shirt: casual but expensive looking. <br/>
<br/>
Keith gapes. "This isn't for me, is it?"<br/>
<br/>
"It is. And you're going to be our piggybank. So keep your mouth shut until we get him out of the way."<br/>
<br/>
Jonathan's smile is serene as you and Keith and Frank pile out. He greets Keith warmly with a blinding smile and a firm handshake, and points around the corner of the house. "You haven't been out here before, have you? We'll go in through the back. I wouldn't want anyone calling the guy at the front door 'Mr. Butler'." He gives you a sidelong glance; Frank shoves you.<br/>
<br/>
The back entrance—one of several—opens directly between an immense porch that leads down to a swimming pool and an airy atrium lined with vintage pinball machines and dominated by a pool table. There's a small kitchen/bar area, and Jonathan fetches each of you a cola. "Where's Monique?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Off with friends. We saw a lot of each other this week. Brett and Jordan were here earlier."<br/>
<br/>
"They didn't run off just because of us, did they."<br/>
<br/>
"Nah, they were just looking for a distraction. Jordan and Hannah, you know." He shrugs. <br/>
<br/>
You decline to pick up the topic of Jordan and his on again/off again relationship with the captain of the girls' basketball team, and instead pick up a pool cue. "What are you doing?" Frank challenges you.<br/>
<br/>
"Getting ready to break." The balls are already set up.<br/>
<br/>
"We play to see who breaks. Go on, pick a number between one and ten."<br/>
<br/>
You keep your face straight. "Seven."<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry, it was eight." He takes the cue from you.<br/>
<br/>
But you grab it back. "What's this 'Sorry' business? <i>You</i> pick a number between one and ten!"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay. Seven." He looks very smug.<br/>
<br/>
You stare at him, then hand the cue over with a muttered oath. "I don't know <i>how</i> you always do it."<br/>
<br/>
"It's your favorite number, Joe." He bends and readies the cue.<br/>
<br/>
"Fore!" you shout as he strikes the ball, and he lurches. None of the balls makes it into a pocket. He glares. "Okay, now it's my turn."<br/>
<br/>
"It's <i>my</i> turn," says Jonathan. You frown; he sighs. "Okay, Joe, pick a number between one and ten."<br/>
<br/>
"Seven. No, eight!"<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry, it was six. But you were close." He sinks two balls with one shot.<br/>
<br/>
You turn and mutter at Keith. He blinks back. You can't tell if he can't believe that Joe is that stupid, or if he's as puzzled as you supposedly are by what just happened.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Christ, you're an idiot," Jonathan Straussler says as he sits up. He tugs at Tilley's shirt, which is rather too small for him.<br/>
<br/>
"Who's the idiot for not changing first, like I told him too," you retort.<br/>
<br/>
"Someone coulda come in."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you're gonna have to change now." You take the bundle of light-colored clothes from the naked Keith golem, which is huddled under the pool table, and toss them to him. "Come on, before Mr. Butler comes in."<br/>
<br/>
"Who's Mr. Butler?" the new Jonathan Straussler asks.<br/>
<br/>
You roll your eyes. "You're the one who's supposed to know the servants' names."<br/>
<br/>
He gives you a look as he starts cramming himself inside his new clothes. "Ask me tomorrow when I've got the memories."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
That's the start of a tedious conversation, the horrifying upshot of which is that you learn that you're the only one in the gang who gets mask-memories more or less instantaneously. For everyone else, it takes up to twelve hours before the memories start filtering in.<br/>
<br/>
That's bad enough. But it also means that you've just substituted a new Jonathan Straussler for the old, who won't know how to act like Jonathan until tomorrow morning at the earliest.</span></div></div>


path: 111231222122122121111122211112211212222111212
author_id: seuzz
title: The Hustle
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"So you're probably not gonna see Monique until tomorrow," you murmur thoughtfully.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah." He struggles out of his too-small shoes and yanks down his pants and underwear. He hunches, and as you're still staring at the floor you accidentally get an eyeful of a complete butt cheek. <i>Krikey, Straussler must sunbathe in the nude. Well, on a stretch of acreage like this, only satellite imagery would ever confirm it.</i> "Is she my first assignment?"<br/>
<br/>
"How popular is she down in the freshman class?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. Reasonably so, I guess. She's got lots of friends." He pulls on underwear and shorts in one set, then stands back up with the shirt already going around his shoulders. "Does it matter? Get her on a golem so I can finally pop her cherry."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you-- Eh, I don't want to think about it. How did you meet her? The year just started."<br/>
<br/>
"Her brother graduated last year. I knew her through him. I don't think her parents fully approved, until they heard my last name." His face tightens a little. "I'm free with the stuff, but that--" He trails off. "Oh yeah, you said something about needing money." He quickly buttons up his shirt, then takes out a wallet.<br/>
<br/>
"Motherfucker! Will you look at that, Frank!" you gasp. "You <i>carry</i> that much around?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but I don't spend it unless I'm entertaining. Dad says you don't get rich by spending money, only investing it."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, we'll invest it good." You start to extract the contents--seven crisp bills with Ben Franklin's smug face on them, along with five twenties--but he catches your wrist. <br/>
<br/>
"I thought we were playing for money," he says in a challenging tone.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Well, it didn't take Keith long to adjust to his new face, did it?</i> "We can't match that kind of pot."<br/>
<br/>
"Cash against assignments," he says in a shrewd tone. He lays five hundreds on the edge of the pool table. "Five games. You get a hundred for each rack you win; I get to pick one assignment for each rack I win."<br/>
<br/>
"That's bullshit," you grumble. "You play this all the time, don't you?" He nods. "And I'm your boss out here."<br/>
<br/>
"Come on, where's your sporting spirit?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, okay. We'll start over. You finished dressing down there, Tilley?" He pokes his head out. "Good boy. You can beat it now. Tell Patterson we got Jonathan Straussler." The golem looks up at Jonathan, who nods. He scuttles off, looking forlorn.<br/>
<br/>
"One on one," Straussler says. "Let's see what the brainiac has."<br/>
<br/>
You mutter something to Frank in a language Straussler wouldn't understand even if he caught your words, and Frank nods. He does pretty well, but Jonathan still takes the prize, and pockets one of his hundreds. "That's for Monique," he says.<br/>
<br/>
You take the second round, and don't do as well even as Frank. "Ian would be a good choice," Jonathan says.<br/>
<br/>
Frank again, and it's heartbreaking when he misses what should have been an easy shot. "Ian's got a thing for Alyssa," Straussler muses. "And she's the head cheerleader."<br/>
<br/>
You do better on the fourth rack, but Straussler plays like he's just been warming up. "Monique's got this friend down in the freshman class. Like a Chelsea mini-me. I think Patterson would like her."<br/>
<br/>
"This is fucking humiliating," you mutter, and wipe your brow with your forearm as he sets up the last rack. "Gimme one more chance, everything on this one. All the masks, all the money in your wallet."<br/>
<br/>
"Do I look like an idiot?" he sneers. "I can see a hustle coming from over the horizon, and why would I give up what I've already won?"<br/>
<br/>
"You can break. And if you win, you get these two faces too." You point to your face and Frank's. "Then you'll only have to get three, and <i>I'll</i> have to pick up a new one."<br/>
<br/>
"And if you win?" At least he looks intrigued.<br/>
<br/>
"Everything in your wallet."<br/>
<br/>
He looks between you and Frank. "No. It still sounds like a hustle. Daddy didn't raise a fool. Original stakes still stand."<br/>
<br/>
"Then we can't get masks. We're tapped out for cash. You want me begging Patterson for more?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I think that sounds good."<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, alright. Fuck." Your palm, slick with sweat, slides down the cue as you grip it. "But if you win this last rack, you still have to loan me enough to get mask supplies, so I don't have to go see Patterson."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, okay," he says. "Loan's due at the end of the month." He stands aside.<br/>
<br/>
You still lose.<br/>
<br/>
At least he's gracious in victory, and even offers to forgive the loan as soon as it's made, but you insist on sticking to the terms. "Monique, Ian, Alyssa, Cheslea's mini-me, and--?"<br/>
<br/>
"Hannah Chamberlain," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, at least those are good choices. We'll get you a bunch of masks tomorrow," you say as you pocket the cash.<br/>
<br/>
He sees you out to your truck, and makes a show of running admiring hands over it while not mentioning his sports car.<br/>
<br/>
"It's gonna be hard to pay back that kind of scratch," Frank observes as you drive off.<br/>
<br/>
"We've got enough to cover lots of mask purchases without touching this principal, as long as we cut down on expenses. And I didn't give up anything, I <i>invested</i> it." He looks over at you. "Don't forget, that's one of Pattersons' buttboys back there. When it comes time to hustle Patterson, he'll make an excellent if unwitting character witness to our incompetence."<br/>
<br/>
Actually, you just invested that money in a plausible lie for Frank.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's sufficiently late that you can't buy any supplies, so you just go home. Once there, you decide to test out the loyalty of the brothers' masked personas by switching between them.<br/>
<br/>
Frank has a different spirit to him. Joe has a light and sunny effervescence--you doubt you'd have been as generous with Keith without the influence of Joe's mind. Frank's is much darker; it feels like you've enclosed yourself in a heavy and impenetrable set of armor. You sit up on the bed with a sharp expression on your face and look quickly over at the other one.<br/>
<br/>
He just smiles back vacantly. "Having fun over there?"<br/>
<br/>
"About what you'd expect," you reply. You stretch. "And you?"<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs. "Feels the same, I think." He cocks his head and turns a bright eye on you. "I can't tell what you were thinking when you were wearing the mask."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you think I was thinking?"<br/>
<br/>
"I suppose you want me to be honest," he replies without a trace of bitterness. "I think you're bullshitting us with this anti-Patterson line. I think you're doing his dirty work for him and using us to do it. You gave Frank a flimsy story which he was just smart enough to understand and too stupid not to swallow. Well, 'stupid,' is the wrong word." He touches his forehead. "But with this brain you knew exactly what to say to him, and he was in no state to argue."<br/>
<br/>
Joe's face is open and calm, lacking any trace of rancor or disingenuousness. You look closely. Only a slight hollowness--probably detectable only by his long-time "brother"--suggests that this "Joe" is not fully himself.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you okay with this?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Honestly? No. You wouldn't expect me to be."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't cause me trouble, Joe."<br/>
<br/>
"I wouldn't have caused trouble, and after that direct order, I definitely won't now." At no point has his expression shifted to suggest a change in disposition. And since golems have to follow orders, you take that as meaning that the golem-Joe has been pretty well re-wired during your tenure inside him.<br/>
<br/>
"Then let's carry on," you say. Joe's clothes fit Frank about as well as Joe, so you don't bother to change. "Between us, we need to get copies of six people. Who?"<br/>
<br/>
"We're not going to wait for Ursula and them to bring back their names?"<br/>
<br/>
"Preparation, Joe. We don't have to wait. You'll stay home tomorrow and make masks--"<br/>
<br/>
"I can't. I'm a golem." There's no sadness in the declaration.<br/>
<br/>
"Then you'll get the supplies, mix them up, have everything ready for me when I get home. But we should be ready to invite one or two people over, maybe for pizza. So who should I be talking to tomorrow?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"What happened to your brother," Kyle Lakewood asks at lunch. <br/>
<br/>
"The gypsies dropped him on his head when they left him on the porch step," you reply. "Then they picked him up and dropped him again to try undoing the damage."<br/>
<br/>
"I meant, where is he?" Kyle asks. "Ian told me Jones gave him extra easy homework for today."<br/>
<br/>
"He's at home doing it, I guess."<br/>
<br/>
"He was only supposed to write his name on a piece of paper and turn it in."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't set him impossible tasks, Lakewood. This is a guy who woke up with a sore throat and asked if I thought he might need an appendectomy. But if you wanna talk to him about that homework, you and Jenny should--" You stop abruptly, for you've noticed that Kyle's girlfriend is craning her neck and staring across the cafeteria. You follow her gaze. "What's up over there?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll be damned," Kyle replies. "Peter is talking to Jessica Pearce."<br/>
<br/>
"Why is she unpopular?" you ask. It's a question that has actually preyed on Frank. He actually kind of likes her, but--<br/>
<br/>
"No one knows," Jenny replies. "She just is. Don't let Alyssa know about that little conversation over there," she softly adds.</span></div></div>


path: 1112312221221221211111222111122112122221112122
author_id: seuzz
title: The Return of Will Prescott
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"What were you saying about me and Jenny?" Kyle asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I was just asking if maybe you guys wanted to come over to our house tonight, around six," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"For dinner?"<br/>
<br/>
"We could do that," you reply. "Dad's out of town. We're feeling a little lonely. Oh, what am I saying, it's an excuse to have some fun."<br/>
<br/>
"How much fun," Kyle asks with a grin. You return a measured glance. He has sharp blue eyes, short, spiky blond hair, and a soccer player's tan. He's a guy who could be hellion and a hooligan, but he's actually smart, charismatic, and a surprisingly decent person.<br/>
<br/>
"About as much fun as I'm capable of having," you reply with a sigh of self-acknowledgement. "Which is about a quarter of the fun Joe is capable of having."<br/>
<br/>
He turns to Jenny for a quick consultation; she looks at you, and you put on a pleading expression. "We'll be over at around seven-thirty," Kyle says. "Try to lift you up and hold Joe back. He's not contagious or anything, is he?"<br/>
<br/>
Joe would have a pun ready in reply, but you only shake your head.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Ursula finds you just before debate class is supposed to start, and wordlessly hands you a couple of papers, and you decide to keep quiet about Keith for a little longer. You look through them: Ah, lists from her and Joshua and Eileen. <br/>
<br/>
"What's that?" asks Geoff Dunholm, who's sitting next to you. He nods at the papers, and then at Ursula's retreating back.<br/>
<br/>
"Homework for Joe. He's home sick. Well, he says he's sick. I think he just wants an excuse to watch <i>Scooby Doo.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"You guys like mysteries, don't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing, Frank. Joe's a good guy."<br/>
<br/>
You pretend to be puzzled, though you're pretty sure exactly what he means. Geoff is smart, and you and Joe have to be careful around him. You glance back down at the papers before putting them away, and allow yourself a small smile: Joshua has put Dunholm down as one of his picks.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Joe has been productive, and you're pleased when you get home to find all the ingredients for the masks neatly set out in the garage, ready to be fired over the sigil. You make two masks and set Joe to polishing them before retreating back into the house to call Ursula. You praise her for the choices, and give her names to pass along back to her collaborators. For Joshua: Mitch Kendall, Adam Karter, and Terry Fitzgerald. For Eileen: Julianna Seaton, Elisabeth Pruit, and Chris Yves. You're not sure what Patterson would think of Yves, but either way his reaction should be amusing. <br/>
<br/>
For Ursula herself: Her list is far and away the most disappointing, for she has just picked names of people that will be easy for her to get to. You tell her that she can just have her pick, even though that's going to make life harder for you, since you'll have to pick up the slack if you're going to give Patterson some presentable masks. You jot down four names (culled from Joshua's and Eileen's lists) for you and Joe to get as part of your quota: Timothy Johnson, Geoff Dunholm, Tina Branson, and Leslie Keys.<br/>
<br/>
You'd like that to be all you have to deal with her over, but she starts to whine about the difficulty of getting masks: "Can't you and Joe help us?"<br/>
<br/>
"We already are. But we're going to be busy with our own jobs. You guys can help each other. And when you get a mask done, pass it along to us to seal up. You can't use it before then, and you'll mess it up if you try putting it on without a seal in it. Once you get a mask, you can use them to get close to other people. That'll help you cover your tracks."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't understand."<br/>
<br/>
"Look, we'll talk about it later, after each of you gets a first mask. How about the three of you get together for some kind of low-key party at Joshua's after you have the masks. Invite one of your targets over. I bet Joshua's place is decorated spooky, and he's probably got incense and shit, right?" She says nothing. "That'd be the perfect environment to bring out a mask and show it off and put it on someone, and explain how they fainted afterward."<br/>
<br/>
"It sounds tricky, Frank."<br/>
<br/>
You grit your teeth but keep your temper under control. "Then either me or Joe will show up to help. Okay?" She makes a small noise and you wish her good night.<br/>
<br/>
Back in the garage: "How are we--" you shout over the power buffer to Joe, then wait for him to turn it off. "How are we going to get masks onto Kyle and Jenny tonight? Scrimmage play, like with Darcy?" He shrugs. "Come on, you're supposed to be the smart one, can't you figure out a play?"<br/>
<br/>
"You should get Rick if you want a tactician." You look at him sharply, but there's no satire or sadness or any other veiled emotion in his suggestion that you capture another one of the <i>Stellae.</i> It's just a blank suggestion. <i>Dealing with them: It's something you've been trying to avoid, for it fills you with fear and distaste.</i> Is that why you're playing along with Patterson, helping him make all these masks? Are you hoping to create a sea in which you can swim after <i>they</i> catch on to you? They surely will, at some point ...<br/>
<br/>
You distract yourself by sitting down to make two mind bands for the new masks. You have until about seven o'clock, you calculate, which should be just enough time to get them ready. The actual copying is going to be tricky--you'll have to copy them almost simultaneously, if neither is to spot the other losing consciousness, and you're not planning on replacing them or enslaving them. Or should you? That would make it easier. "The <i>Libra</i> is back in your wardrobe, right?" you shout over at Joe, but without waiting for an answer you stalk back into the bedroom so you can double-check the recipe for putting golem shells inside masks. <br/>
<br/>
Even enslaving Kyle and Jenny could be tricky, you reflect as you flip through the book. It's like a game of hide-the-penny. Frank is currently under Joe's mask; Joe is probably under your mask back at Westside by now. It suddenly occurs to you that you'd like to have Joe back safe and sound under the roof of this house. Yes, you could put Frank and Joe under their own masks, and then take over as Kyle or Jenny, sending the original back under your own mask. So, almost on an impulse, you call <br/>
Will Prescott. "I need your help," you say, "so get yourself over here." You start to give him the address, but he interrupts you.<br/>
<br/>
"Who needs my help," he coolly asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Your boss," you growl back.<br/>
<br/>
"How do I know it's you? I don't recognize your voice. Any asshole could just call up and--"<br/>
<br/>
You give him the address. "Just get out here, and I'll tattoo my name on your ass."<br/>
<br/>
He snickers, but says he'll be over in twenty minutes.<br/>
<br/>
You take the <i>Libra</i> back with you to the garage. "Did you pick up any cemetery dirt while you were out?" you ask Joe.<br/>
<br/>
"Ew, gross. I skipped that one."<br/>
<br/>
You sigh. If it's not one thing it's another. You trot out to the truck.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your old truck is out front when you get back from the graveyard, and Will Prescott is perched on the sofa when you walk in. His eye glints when it falls on you. "You're not who I was expecting," he says. <br/>
<br/>
"Just go wait for me in the bedroom."<br/>
<br/>
He sucks puckishly on his cheek before complying, sauntering past you very slowly with his hands in his pockets. You suppress the urge to slap him as he passes. Then you fetch Joe and send him back as well. You might as well get them set up; you can linger at the house as yourself until you've got Kyle and Jenny. You sit at the dining room table and put all of Frank's borrowed willpower into staying conscious as you take the mask off. It's like pulling rivets from your skull, but the thump of your forehead against the table keeps you from blacking out completely. You smart all over as you struggle to your feet and wobble down the hall.<br/>
<br/>
Joe and Will are on the bed, looking at each other out of the corners of their eyes. "What's going on at Westside these days?" you ask Will as you press Joe back on the bed and take the mask off him. Frank reappears.<br/>
<br/>
"Terror stalks the hallways," he replies, then shrugs. "I dunno, man. They don't tell me anything anymore."<br/>
<br/>
"How are Caleb and Keith?" You put Frank's mask on him, and he opens his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"Which ones," Will asks. "The real ones or the fakes?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fakes." You watch Frank carefully as he sits up, but he seems completely docile, and barely looks at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Stupid as ever," Will says. His brow darkens. "What are you planning here?"<br/>
<br/>
"I need to move your face, I got someone I have to--" <br/>
<br/>
You stop with a frown, and a chill goes down your back. It occurs to you that you've only <i>assumed</i> that Patterson has put Joe under your old face. But the last time you saw them, it was Patterson himself who was pretending to be Will Prescott.<br/>
<br/>
The fake you cocks an eyebrow. "Patterson?" you slowly ask it.<br/>
<br/>
He laughs. "I don't think so. All I know is that you're not the boss of me."<br/>
<br/>
"Frank, grab him!" Frank quickly complies, but Will doesn't struggle. He just smirks lightly as you put your hand to his face and pull.<br/>
<br/>
Laurent Delacroix appears inside Frank's tight embrace. You look inside the mask. There's a shell there.<br/>
<br/>
You sigh. Now you'll have to call Patterson and try to track down Joe. Or you could just forget it.</span></div></div>


path: 11123122212212212111112221111221121222211121221
author_id: seuzz
title: Making a Party of It
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It would be easiest to leave things as they are, but some sixth sense tells you that you ought to keep but the Durras brothers close; in fact, you now wish you'd thought earlier to bring Joe back over. So you call up Patterson. "The fuck are <i>you</i> calling me for," he demands.<br/>
<br/>
"This is Prescott."<br/>
<br/>
"I know who it is. Why the fuck do I want to hear from you?"<br/>
<br/>
"This is the <i>real</i> Prescott, the guy over at Eastman."<br/>
<br/>
"Prove it."<br/>
<br/>
You strangle the phone. "What do you want, for me to come over with my own golem so you can talk to <i>two</i> of me?"<br/>
<br/>
"One of you is bad enough. Okay, what do you want?"<br/>
<br/>
"Where's Joe Durras? The original, the one I'm replacing."<br/>
<br/>
"Under a mask someplace."<br/>
<br/>
"Where?"<br/>
<br/>
"Why do you wanna know?"<br/>
<br/>
"What is this, twenty questions? I want him back."<br/>
<br/>
"How come?"<br/>
<br/>
You sigh. "I've got too many masks and I'm losing track of where people are. I want to hide him under his own mask, so I know where all the originals are."<br/>
<br/>
"You don't need to know where the originals are."<br/>
<br/>
"And what happens if something gets fucked up and I need to make a change?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't fuck up."<br/>
<br/>
You drop heavily onto the bed. "Why are you being so difficult? Let's just keep the victims separate, at their own schools. You know, think about <i>organization.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
He's silent a moment. "Alright, fine. I'll have to track him down," he says. "I'll ask Patterson where he is and get him sent back to you."<br/>
<br/>
"Where Patterson is?" you echo with some alarm. "Who am I talking to?"<br/>
<br/>
"A golem," he says in a biting tone.<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus!" Even the fake Patterson is a dick; which, okay, shouldn't be a surprise. "Pass the word along to the boss, then, will you? He can still find me out at Joe and Frank Durras's." You hang up, and now you rather hope that Patterson himself will decline to go along with your request; the less you have to deal with him the better.<br/>
<br/>
Frank looks at you from under dark eyebrows. "It would be nice to have my brother back," he observes.<br/>
<br/>
You smile at him sourly, and return Joe's mask to your face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"You don't look sick," Kyle says. He is leaning back on the sofa and has an arm around Jenny. Both of them are looking at you with amused skepticism.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh?" You blink. "Oh. Yeah. Musta been one of those twenty-four hour things. Tickle in my throat." You brush your Adam's apple with a fingertip. "Do I have a hickey there?"<br/>
<br/>
"How would you have gotten a hickey, Joe?" Frank asks. He's leaning against the wall with his arms folded.<br/>
<br/>
"I get them sometimes," you retort. "That makes <i>one</i> of us."<br/>
<br/>
"Did you have a girl over here while you were skipping school?" Frank says. "Because that's the only way you'd have a hickey now."<br/>
<br/>
"You've never brought Becky Torres to a passionate climax," you taunt back. "Like that's a news flash. Anyway, she can raise ones that last."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you talking about this just so you can brag?" Kyle asks.<br/>
<br/>
"It's a bonus, ain't it? How about Jenny?" You leer at the two soccer players. "What kind of welts can she raise?"<br/>
<br/>
Frank leaps forward to shove you. You shove back. But the personal geography is not conducive to the "scrimmage play" you intend to use on your victims, so it doesn't escalate from there. Instead, you leap onto the sofa next to Jenny. "You like 'em blonde, don't you, Jenny? Like me?"<br/>
<br/>
"I like them smart," she replies, and draws closer to Kyle. <br/>
<br/>
"Rules <i>you</i> out," Frank says.<br/>
<br/>
"Rules you out too," you retort. Back to Jenny: "But I ain't so dumb. Go on, ask me a question. Any question at all!"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay. Do you want my boyfriend to punch you in the face?"<br/>
<br/>
"Ha! That's an easy one!" You press a fingertip to your temple. "The answer is, it depends!"<br/>
<br/>
"Really. Depends on what?"<br/>
<br/>
"Depends on whether you give me a hickey first."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you just incapable of <i>not</i> flirting with a girl?" Kyle demands.<br/>
<br/>
"Take it as a compliment, Lakewood. I like what you got." You grin at him with narrowed eyes. "I wouldn't mind swapping with you."<br/>
<br/>
"I like what I got too," he replies in a mild tone.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but who would Jenny go with?" You reach over and touch Kyle on the forehead. "Bzzzzzzt! Oh my God! It was a body swap! I'm in Joe Durras's body now, Jenny! And he's in mine! Who you gonna kiss now?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be a dick, Joe," Frank says.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not Joe! I'm Kyle Lakewood." You settle down comfortably on the sofa, close to the girl. "What do you do now?"<br/>
<br/>
She sighs. "I would stick with my sweetie, no matter what he looked like." You grin, but she keeps her arms clasped around Kyle.<br/>
<br/>
You press on: "Especially if it were an improvement?" You waggle your eyebrows expectantly.<br/>
<br/>
But she looks at Kyle. "And what are you going to do now, <i>Joe?</i>" she asks him.<br/>
<br/>
"Take advantage of the situation while I can," he murmurs back, and kisses her.<br/>
<br/>
You groan and slump so deeply you fall off the sofa. Just then, the doorbell rings.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sorry about this, Kyle," Frank says as he goes to the door. "I told you Joe would try to have too much fun, but I didn't think he'd go this far. Anyway, at least the pizza is finally here."<br/>
<br/>
But when he opens the door, it's Jonathan Straussler who steps in. "Oh, now <i>there's</i> a guy I'd really like to swap with," you exclaim.<br/>
<br/>
He freezes, and looks uncertainly between you and Frank and Jenny and Kyle. "Hey," he says. "Maybe I should've called first." He holds up his book bag. "I got some stuff to drop off."<br/>
<br/>
"Pizza?" you excitedly ask.<br/>
<br/>
"What?" He frowns. "No, it's--"<br/>
<br/>
"It's something for <i>you</i>, Joe," Frank says, and closes the door. "Obviously."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh yeah, that homework." You bounce over to Jonathan and pry at his bag, but he pulls it back and shoots a querying glance at Kyle and Jenny. "Okay, fine, bring it into the dining room. We'll put it with the rest of the stuff Frank is supposed to do for me." You flash an evil grin at Frank before leading Jonathan off separately. But you don't stop in the dining room; instead, you go on through the kitchen and into the garage, where the rest of the mask supplies--and four blank, polished masks--are resting.<br/>
<br/>
"Fast work," you tell him. "You get everyone?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not yet," he says as he opens his bag. "Monique, Ian and Alyssa. I wanted to drop them off. You might seal up Monique, so I can use it to get to Carrie Carmichael."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh yeah. The Chelsea mini-me." He nods. "What about Hannah?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not yet." He jerks his head at the house. "What about them? "<br/>
<br/>
"I haven't gotten them yet."<br/>
<br/>
"Need help?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nah. Why, you lookin' for an excuse to get out of grabbing Hannah?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just offering. But Hannah and me don't have a lot of overlap."<br/>
<br/>
"Get with her to talk about Jordan."<br/>
<br/>
He makes a face. "I'm sick of that crap with them. Aren't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't pay attention to it."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I had to listen to it from Ian and Alyssa both while waiting to get copies of them. Even Monique has opinions."<br/>
<br/>
"Monique has breasts and big eyes and a cute little ass that looks really good in a skirt," you retort. "For that, I'd listen to her opinions on the Fed's monetary policy and the chances of a Eurozone-wide banking failure."<br/>
<br/>
He rears back. "Since fucking when does Joe Durras know anything about the Eurozone?"<br/>
<br/>
"Frank has opinions on everything too, but he hasn't got Monique's assets." You reach up to lightly grasp his face, as though to take the mask off him. "I'm serious, I'd swap into Jonathan Straussler in a heartbeat."<br/>
<br/>
"And then you'd have to deal with his dad." He pushes your hand away. "But you <i>are</i> getting Kyle and Jenny too, right?" He sounds skeptical for some reason.<br/>
<br/>
"Of course. Patterson would like them, no?"<br/>
<br/>
"Jenny, yeah. But if he's got Jenny, why would he want Kyle?"<br/>
<br/>
"Kyle can get pussy."<br/>
<br/>
"He's a one-woman guy."<br/>
<br/>
"He doesn't have to be. You gonna stay as Jonathan?" He doesn't reply, so you continue. "Maybe we can get Caleb out here. Put him in Kyle, bust him and Jenny up, I can finally score with her. We can be the three musketeers, and Patterson can go fuck himself."<br/>
<br/>
"Sounds like fun," he allows. "Want me to stick around? Did I hear something about pizza?"<br/>
<br/>
"You'd pay for it." He shrugs. "Christ, can you at least <i>pretend</i> that it hurts to spend thirty bucks?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So he stays, and you continue to play stupid, even to the extent of hurling a slice at the ceiling to see if the gooey sauce and cheese would cause it to stick there.<br/>
<br/>
The opportunity to make the copies finally comes when Jenny takes a bathroom break. Out of nowhere you scream at Frank; he leaps on you, and the two of you wind up falling onto Kyle. A mask goes onto him. "Keep an eye on him," you order, and go down the hall to wait patiently at the bathroom door. When it opens, Jenny gasps at your grin, and then her face disappears behind a mask.<br/>
<br/>
Keith was complaining about getting to Hannah. If you switched into Jenny--a pleasant thought--you could get Hannah for him. </span></div></div>


path: 111231222122122121111122211112211212222111212211
author_id: seuzz
title: Couples Troubles
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Jenny is a big girl, but you're strong, and have no problems as you gently deposit her in the bathtub. Then it's masks off and a few minutes later masks on again. The new Joe wakes to find you stripping his own clothes off your skinny frame, and plucks playfully at the blouse he's wearing. "Kind of a surprise," he says. "I thought you'd be switching into Kyle. Or is it my early birthday present, and we're going to do it while Kyle's knocked out?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just shut up and start getting undressed."<br/>
<br/>
"Or maybe you were figuring on cutting out the middle man, finger Jenny directly? Can I stay and see her naked?"<br/>
<br/>
"Was I acting like such a pig when I was being you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'd really like to know if she thinks I'm cute."<br/>
<br/>
"What's taking you so long? Pants off."<br/>
<br/>
"Just let me cum a little in her panties first."<br/>
<br/>
The banter is just encouraging him, so you clam up. He grumbles but changes clothes, and you push him out the door with orders to help Frank and Jonathan keep Kyle distracted.<br/>
<br/>
As you pick up Jenny's mask you briefly wonder about the golem's behavior. It doesn't seem entirely like Joe to be such a jerk. But maybe it's just the difference between being Joe while you're on the inside of him, and seeing how he acts when you're on the outside. Whatever. From the medicine cabinet you take out the mask sealant--which you'd put there earlier on a hunch that you might be making this play--and close up the mask. Then you get in the tub and put Jenny's mask to your face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your head is muzzy with a slight headache when you wake, but it rapidly disappears as you sit up. <i>Ooooh!</i> Such nice legs. Firm, strong calves and thighs and wide hips. You suck in a sharp breath as you cradle large, firm breasts; your nipples tingle. <i>This is incredible!</i> You feel strong and fit, as you did as Joe, but you also feel beautiful and sexy and delectable. You exit the tub and look in the mirror. Jenny's long, dirty blonde hair, with its loose curls, falls across your face, and you pull it back. A strong face, with direct, piercing eyes. You smile--tightly at first, but you force yourself to relax, and your expression warms. You turn from side to side, letting the harsh bathroom light catch the curves of your profile from different directions. Even under the unflattering glare Jenny's face looks fresh and healthy, and it glows with a summer's worth of sunlight. <br/>
<br/>
Kyle has probably long been awake, and you really shouldn't linger, but you can't help but move carefully as you draw on her panties and jeans, enjoying the feel as the fabric catches slightly on your skin. Then the bra goes on, and you grunt a little as you tuck your breasts into the cups. You shake your hair free of the blouse collar as you pull it on and button it up. Old tennis shoes over bare feet. There's no brush, so you just pull your hair back into the loose pony tail. You give yourself one last, long look, turning around so you can admire your firm ass, then flick off the light, open the door, and return to the living room.<br/>
<br/>
Kyle is still on the sofa, but he's leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. There's a gleam in his eye as he looks up at you. Of their own accord, the corners of your lips go up in a small, tight smile. Jenny can read her boyfriend: He is pissed.<br/>
<br/>
"This has been fun," you say, "but I've still got some homework I have to get done."<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, we're just getting started," Joe cries.<br/>
<br/>
"Kyle, honey, what about you?" you ask him.<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs. "If you want to go, it's okay with me."<br/>
<br/>
"We'll take some of the leftover pizza if you don't mind," you say in a measured tone. You pick up your purse and go toward the pizza. "Help me wrap it up, Joe?" When you're both in the kitchen you nudge him softly. "Get me one of the masks from the garage." He obliges while you wrap two pieces of pizza in some plastic wrap, and when he returns you deposit the leftovers and the mask both in your purse. <br/>
<br/>
As you turn you find Jonathan standing in the doorway. He jerks his chin knowingly at you. "I wondered if that's what you were up to in there," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll get Hannah for you," you say. "You get me Geoff Dunholm." The name tumbles out almost without any thought on your side.<br/>
<br/>
"Alright." He glances over his shoulder. "You gonna be able to handle Kyle?"<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean? Didn't the mask work on him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, and it's out in the garage now. I mean, he doesn't look happy."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but he's not pissed at his <i>girlfriend.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But maybe he is, at least a little. He says nothing on the walk out to the car when you slip an arm around his waist. "Joe is a handful," you say carefully.<br/>
<br/>
"I like Joe," he replies. "He's fun. Don't you like Joe?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be like this, Kyle," you warn him. "Don't try to put me on the spot."<br/>
<br/>
He gives you a sidelong glance and says nothing before getting in the car. He's still silent even after pulling away from the house. You turn to stare at him full on. "He didn't mean anything with all that flirting," he says in a tone that suggests he's daring you to agree. "He was just playing around."<br/>
<br/>
"If you say so," you say neutrally. "You've got no reason to be jealous."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't I?" he says sharply. <br/>
<br/>
"You <i>know</i> you're the only guy for me," you say, and snuggle up to him.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't like it when you have to tell me."<br/>
<br/>
That causes you to pull back. "And how was all that <i>my</i> fault," you demand. "<i>He</i> was the one who started it all, who was doing it all." You cross your arms and slouch back in the seat. "If you're going to be mad at someone, be mad at him."<br/>
<br/>
The rest of the drive is quiet. You can't tell what Kyle is thinking, but you're wondering if maybe you should turn this spat into a full-on quarrel. You'd been thinking that would be more useful in a Patterson-like plan to bust Kyle and Jenny up.<br/>
<br/>
You reach no decision, and so when Kyle drops you off at your house, and leans in for a goodnight kiss, you keep it short and cool.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're still undecided the next morning when Kyle picks you up, but neither you nor he allude to last night's events, and on the surface at least relations look like they are restored. You expend your nervous energies at pre-class soccer practice, running the other girls hard while surreptitiously admiring their trim bodies. You're particularly smitten by Cindy Orson--a sophomore--and more than once squeeze her arm encouragingly after she's done well on a play.<br/>
<br/>
Kyle, as usual, comes looking for you just before lunch, but you coolly send him away with the excuse that you want to talk to Hannah Chamberlain. He asks about what, but you give him a look and ask him if he really wants to know. He shrugs and lumbers off, so maybe he actually is still upset about last night.<br/>
<br/>
You're a little nervous about trying to get a copy of Hannah at school--there is no "fuck room" like at Westside where you can get her alone--but she makes it easy by taking a trip to the restroom before heading to the cafeteria, and you catch her from behind as she's about to enter a stall. The subsequent conversation with her is tedious and unenlightening--she hasn't much to say about Jordan, and doesn't seem to want to share what little she might say--but you're highly satisfied when you return to your locker before fifth period and deposit her mask amongst your things.<br/>
<br/>
And then the roof falls in.<br/>
<br/>
It starts badly enough with Kyle by your locker when Joe abruptly appears. "Someone is looking for you," he says in an annoying singsong.<br/>
<br/>
"They know where to find me," you say without looking at him.<br/>
<br/>
"It's a phone call. I guess they thought you'd be hanging out with me."<br/>
<br/>
"Who gave them that idea," Kyle asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Joe, just leave me out of your business," you snap. He shrugs and disappears back into the crowd. You kick yourself mentally as he goes--the golem has interpreted your order literally, and too late you realize it might be a phone call from Patterson. You feel Kyle's gaze on you. "I'll see you after school, at practice," you tell him, and leave him dangling as you go off to class.<br/>
<br/>
In the back of the classroom, as you wait for class to start, you quickly dial up Patterson. "Did you call Joe Durras a little while ago, looking for me?" you ask him.<br/>
<br/>
"Your new voice sounds sexy," he says, "but I wish you'd keep me posted on where you are. Anyway, what are we going to do?"<br/>
<br/>
"About what?"<br/>
<br/>
"Didn't that idiot pass the message along? The original got loose."<br/>
<br/>
"What are you talking about?"<br/>
<br/>
"Joe Durras," he says impatiently. "You and that stupid request. I knew I should've told you to just fuck off. Anyway, I took him up to the lounge to switch him back under your mask, so I could send him off to you. He musta woken up while I was still out cold, and he ran off."<br/>
<br/>
"The real Joe Durras got loose?" you gasp, and your heart seems to stop.<br/>
<br/>
"That's what I said. Fuckin' weird. Anyway, just so you know, there's a pretty good chance you'll find him back at his house with a dopey look on his face."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's worse than that. You accompany the golem Durrases home. The <i>Libra</i> is gone from the wardrobe, along with all the mask supplies--and all the masks you'd accumulated.</span></div></div>


path: 11123122212212212111112221111221121222211122
author_id: seuzz
title: Doubling Darcy
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're pacing the room, wheels spinning furiously in your head, when your eye falls on Darcy's mask. All the tumblers fall into place. "Joe, you're a fucking genius," you murmur to yourself. You snatch up the cell phone and call Darcy. "Hey, I'm really sorry," you say in a small, pleading tone after she's picked up. "Frank is sorry too."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know what you're sorry about," she says in a very clipped and cool tone.<br/>
<br/>
"We were just being stupid yesterday," you continue. "I was hoping you wouldn't be mad, but today—" Yes, she had been very frosty toward you in Cussler's class.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not mad at you, Joe. Or at Frank," she says. "You guys are who you are."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, can we try to prove that we're better than that? I don't like you being mad at us. Can you come over? Just for a little while? I promise, there won't be any fighting or anything. We want to show you we're actually civilized."<br/>
<br/>
"I know that <i>Frank</i> is civilized—"<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Please,</i> Darcy!" You drop to your knees, even though she obviously can't see you. "You don't know how much I <i>hate</i> it when people are mad at me. It's like the worst thing in the world for me! Just come over, for five minutes even, just to show that you really mean it when you say you're not mad at me."<br/>
<br/>
She sighs very heavily, but finally relents. You thank her fervently.<br/>
<br/>
Frank has been watching you from the dining room. "What are you up to?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"We're hijacking her body," you reply as you get back to your feet. He turns a little white. "Patterson is sending over one of his buttboys to help infiltrate Eastman. We have to keep up appearances, at least for a little while, and that means finding him a place. Darcy is available on short notice."<br/>
<br/>
"And how does that fit in with Ursula and her friends?"<br/>
<br/>
"As far as they are to know, Darcy is going to be herself. She'll be the fourth on the team. Oh, and as far as Keith Tilley—that's our new friend—is concerned, you're a golem."<br/>
<br/>
"I <i>am</i> a golem," he says in a very even tone.<br/>
<br/>
"Then it shouldn't be hard for you to play the part."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're a little nervous about the upcoming switch because you don't know who will show up first, and only relax when Keith appears. "Hey man," you exclaim as you open the door, letting Joe's natural enthusiasm cover for your own, cooler feelings. "Welcome to Escuela de Guillermo." You shake his hand and punch him in the shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
He's a little pale, but warms at this welcome as he steps inside. "Thanks for saving my ass," he says. "I didn't think I was gonna make it out of Westside alive."<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, I wouldn't let anything happen to my little buddy." You put your arm around his shoulder, then impulsively lean in and give him a big, wet kiss right on the cheek. He recoils. You grin, and nod at Frank. "Oh yeah. That's my boyfriend over there."<br/>
<br/>
"Really," Keith gasps.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, they're a lot more gay-friendly at Eastman." You playfully tweak one of his nipples. "Are, uh, are <i>you</i> gay-friendly, Keith?"<br/>
<br/>
He swallows hard. "Um—"<br/>
<br/>
You push him away with a laugh.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm just jerking your chain, man! This big goof I'm pretending to be is Joe. You'll get used to me acting like this. That over there is Frank. He's a golem." You introduce them to each other. "Golem, Keith. Keith, golem. Golem, Keith, Keith—"<br/>
<br/>
"Charmed," Frank says.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey," Keith says. He still looks a little uncertain after being so wrong-footed. "So is he for me?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. You can't put his face on. Only I can put his face on. Same with Joe here. If I switch, I'll let you know."<br/>
<br/>
"What about the rest of the family?"<br/>
<br/>
"There is none. Yeah, it's complicated. Basically, there's no mom, and the dad is off earning money. So it's just Frank and Joe with the run of the place."<br/>
<br/>
"That's convenient."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure is." You draw up close to him again. "So, if I put you inside a hot cheerleader," you ask, and puff a hot breath onto his face, "would you come over and have a slumber party with the two of us?"<br/>
<br/>
He leaps away. "Jesus, Will!"<br/>
<br/>
"You're so fucking gullible!" You hook your arm around his neck again and yank him down the hall. "Anyway, we gotta new face on her way over, so you should hide in the bedroom until I come get you." You shove him through the doorway. "Try out the bed if you want." You wink at him and shut the door.<br/>
<br/>
Frank looks dubious when you return. "He seems a little—"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, and first impressions aren't misleading," you reply. "Patterson likes kids he can push around." You mime punching him in the stomach. He easily blocks you, and it quickly escalates into a brawl. But as with all such brawls between the brothers, it ends with you on the floor and Frank smiling down sourly at you. "Saved by the bell," he says as the doorbell rings.<br/>
<br/>
"Is that the best you can come up with?" you sigh as you squirm out from under him. "The bell jars. Le salut belle. La belle dame sans merci"—you open the door—"beaucoup zut alors marie antoinette croissant!" You lift Darcy's stiff hand to your lips. "Vous avez la simple pression d'un cobra sexe affame," you murmur in a very low voice, hoping she doesn't speak French or can't catch your words. "Entre nous, parlez vous, sacrebleu," you add in a louder voice as you draw her inside. "Avec!" You kick the door shut with your foot, and wrap your arms around her torso, pinning her from behind. "Rapidement! Le masque de la mort identite!" you call to Frank. "Tout suite, mon ami est en attente!"<br/>
<br/>
Frank rapidly advances with Darcy's mask and puts it to her face. She sags into your arms, and you kiss her cheek and squeeze her torso. "You're not sexy, Darcy, but I wish Keith were more open to experimentation with these things." <br/>
<br/>
You sweep her up and carry her down the hall to the bedroom, and kick at the door. Keith opens it, and you push past, dropping Darcy on the bed. "Well, what do you think?" you ask. "Will she do?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's a cheerleader?" he asks, slightly aghast. Darcy has a rather pinched face, and no real boobs to speak of. <br/>
<br/>
"No, she's actually kind of a brainiac. But I had a mask of her—"<br/>
<br/>
"How come?"<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up, that's how come. Anyway, I'm doing you a solid by getting her for you. She's a spoke in a lot of wheels, so it'll be easy for you to use her to make your quota. Patterson wants five from you, right?" He nods. "You could probably make your quota tonight, if you had five masks. We could have ham, too, if we had ham, and ham and eggs, if we had eggs."<br/>
<br/>
"I brought over one blank," Keith says, and opens his backpack. "And Patterson put some of that stuff in a mask he made of me, and I brought it over too. He said—"<br/>
<br/>
"Then let's get you changed and then we'll see what we can do," you say, and start to pull off Darcy's shoes. "Frank and me don't have a lot of money, and I hope Darcy's got credit cards, because we need supplies. Oh, and before I forget, I've got three associates over here already. For them, you're going to be Darcy. For real. You're not someone pretending to be Darcy, you're the real girl. And you're going to be part of our 'group'. Understand?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure."<br/>
<br/>
You give him a careful look: he's so dopey. "I'll explain it again after you've changed," you tell him, and leave him to finish up.<br/>
<br/>
Ten minutes later you march to the bedroom door and pound on it. "You decent yet?"<br/>
<br/>
"Go away," Darcy's sharp voice comes back. "I'm so pissed at you."<br/>
<br/>
"You told me on the phone I was all forgiven."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know <i>what</i> you told her, but it's <i>me</i> who's none too happy."<br/>
<br/>
"How come?" You open the door, then quickly close it again as a shoe is flung at you. "What's going on in there?" You open the door again.<br/>
<br/>
She's in her panties and is buttoning up her shirt, and turns to glare at you. On the bed, a half-naked Keith Tilley is sitting up as he pulls on some socks. He stares back at you with a slack-jawed expression.<br/>
<br/>
"You and your fast talk," Darcy sneers. "You came right out and said it, and I didn't even notice!"<br/>
<br/>
"Said what?"<br/>
<br/>
"You want me to spend the night here, or something!"<br/>
<br/>
You jerk your chin at Keith's replacement. "It'd be safer than spending the night with <i>him.</i> You can't even order him around, can you? It's Patterson who—"<br/>
<br/>
"Point is, I can't go home, can I?" Darcy shrieks.<br/>
<br/>
"How come not?"<br/>
<br/>
She points to her temple. "Hello? How do I even know where I live? Let alone—"<br/>
<br/>
"Darcy doesn't know where she lives?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"<i>I</i> don't know where she lives! So I'm gonna have to spend the night here, right? 'Cos I can't go home, or to this girl's place. And you knew that when you fast talked me into—"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's the start of an astonishing conversation: Keith hasn't got Darcy's memories, even though he's wearing her mask. It's the same for Caleb too, he tells you, and for Patterson: No one who puts on one of the masks starts getting the memories for several hours yet, and he's skeptical when you insist that you, at least, can get the memories instantly on putting on a mask.<br/>
<br/>
It's a mystery, but it leaves you with a short-term problem. Either you need to send Keith home without Darcy's memories in play, or you're going to have to temporarily assume Darcy's identity.</span></div></div>


path: 111231222122122121111122211112211212222111221
author_id: seuzz
title: In Which Plans Are Hatched
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I'd rather you just stayed as Darcy," you say. "It would be easier to manage. But," you add before he can object, "I'll let you switch as long as you're willing to do the extra work. How much money has Darcy got to spare?"<br/>
<br/>
"I have a credit card," he mumbles.<br/>
<br/>
"Good." You look at the clock. "You can hit a few places for material before they close." <br/>
<br/>
You jot down a shopping list while he eyes you skeptically. "Oh, nothing," he says sarcastically when ask what his deal is. "I'm just wondering if <i>your</i> brains and Joe Durras's average out. The guy's kind of a moron, isn't he?"<br/>
<br/>
"Some of us are smart. Some of us are sexy. And some of us?" You give a Gallic shrug. "Tous les deux."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, toodle-oo to you, too," he mutters as he brushes past. After he leaves, you put his mask onto Darcy and send it back to keep Keith's place warm. After giving it another big kiss.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The new Darcy returns about an hour later with bags of supplies--enough, it appears for about five masks. "You should have written down how much you wanted," she complains when you complain. "And I have to get home."<br/>
<br/>
"Get in character before you go, okay? You're not sounding a lot like Darcy."<br/>
<br/>
She draws herself up, takes a deep breath, shuts her eyes, and exhales while shaking her head. "Joe, you're cute," she says in a weary tone. "But you're not as cute as you think you are."<br/>
<br/>
"No one's as cute as I think I am," you grin back. You pluck at your friend's blouse. "But am I as cute as Adam Karter?"<br/>
<br/>
"Stop it!" She slaps at your hand. "That guy--"<br/>
<br/>
"He's after <i>you!</i> I've been watching him! And I've been watching <i>you</i> too."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not-- He's being a pest."<br/>
<br/>
"And you're flattered. I can tell. Whatsamatter? Don't you think you're good enough for <i>me?</i>" You draw up close.<br/>
<br/>
"Go away!" She shoves you. <br/>
<br/>
"Come on, what's going on in Darcy's head? She's all like intense and stuff. It's scary."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, if <i>you</i> lived with a single mother and didn't want to end up in the same kind of low-skill job, you'd be intense and work really hard so you could get into college and-- Shut up!"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm just helping you get in character. But what about boys? What's her attitude toward boys?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not one I want to explore!"<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry, dude, you haven't got a choice. That's your first target: Karter."<br/>
<br/>
"No!"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah! Think about it. He's a guy you can use to get lots more girls. Lots more cute girls. I'll stay out of the way while you're being him. He thinks I'm cramping his style."<br/>
<br/>
Darcy's face tightens, but turns thoughtful. "I guess if you put it like that."<br/>
<br/>
"Or what about Dunholm? He's eligible, and Darcy's close to him."<br/>
<br/>
"Make up your mind, alright?"<br/>
<br/>
"Karter it is, then. Make a date with him for tomorrow. You got that blank mask?" She pats her handbag. "Good girl. Make it a good one with him. Kiss him so hard he sees stars. Then get the mask on him."<br/>
<br/>
She winces, but agrees, and leaves. After she's gone you go out to the garage and starting sorting supplies, then fire five masks. You pour yourself some cereal for supper and send Frank out to polish them with the power buffer. You should have enough for each member of the team to have one mask tomorrow.<br/>
<br/>
As he works, you have to mull over the complications that come from Keith's addition to the team. Ursula thinks you have to score fifteen masks, which will leave an average of two-and-a-half masks for each member, now that "Darcy" is on board. Problem is, you actually have to score twenty, and the way Patterson wants it, it is supposed to be five masks from each member. Well, screw Patterson. You're not particularly afraid of him anymore and besides: Following his plan will mean revealing your lies to Ursula, and though you've no qualms about double-crossing her, you don't see why you need to double-cross her in order to keep Patterson happy. You'll just double-cross both of them.<br/>
<br/>
So this is what you decide ...<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"I'll give each of you two masks," you tell the group, who are huddled in a semi-circle on the grass near the practice fields. It's lunchtime, and this spot is far enough away from the building and the crowds that you can't be overheard and aren't likely to be interrupted.<br/>
<br/>
You set two stones (which you'd casually gathered up on the walk out to the meeting spot) in front of each associate: Ursula, Eileen, Joshua, Darcy. Frank casually patrols the perimeter. "Joshua, you get Mitch Kendall and Terry Fitzgerald. Eileen, you get Elisabeth Pruit and Julianna Seaton. Darcy--" Eileen and Ursula flick nervous glances at her. "Adam Karter and Chris Yves." Darcy's expression is neutral at Karter's name, but a small gleam comes into her eye at Yves's. "Eileen, you have a problem?" She shakes her head, but you gently coax her.<br/>
<br/>
"What about Timothy Johnson?" she asks, and turns red.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I noticed he was on Joshua's list," you say, and then it's Joshua's turn to redden. "Frank and me will help you guys out. Leave Timothy to us, along with Tina and Dana Pak. Joshua--" He raises his head, returning from some reverie whose contents you can guess but would prefer to ignore. "I've been over at your place. It's a natural for a spider web. Invite your targets over, one at a time. Turn the lights low, break open a few beers, put on that sitar music, light a few." You mime taking a hit on a joint. "Burn some incense. Break out the masks, invite your friend to try one on. It'll knock 'em out, you know, and that whole ambience you cook up will make them either not notice or think it's totally natural. Right?" He grins widely. You point to his confederates. "Have a couple of these guys with you, give support and cover. Oh, and don't do anything with the masks after you get them off your guy. Lay 'em aside and bring 'em to me."<br/>
<br/>
You haul your backpack around, and from it extract a mask for each. You then send Joshua, Eileen, and Darcy away while asking Ursula to stay. Before you can speak, she asks about Darcy. "Yeah," you say. "I got to feeling kind of bad about her, what we did. I called her back out last night, showed her the mask, told her all about it. She's cool with it."<br/>
<br/>
"Does she know that me and Eileen were--" She waves her hand in front of her face.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but she's fine with it. She knows you weren't snooping. It was just for demonstration purposes. Would you feel better if I let her snoop inside your mask? Turnabout and all that?" She looks pained, and you dismiss your own suggestion quickly.<br/>
<br/>
"I also wanted to talk about the names you gave me," you continue, and draw out the slip of paper she had passed to you earlier in the day.<br/>
<br/>
"I picked people I could get real easy," she says. "You said we had to hurry."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, and I appreciate it." Actually, you don't. None of them, you suspect, would appeal to Patterson, and if he asks to see the masks before you're ready, you'll be hard pressed to explain them. "What did Eileen and Joshua say about your choices?"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't talk to them," she says. "Well, I talked to Eileen a bit." She turns a little pink.<br/>
<br/>
"The thing is, they think all this is for 'fun', and your choices, well-- They don't seem 'fun'. Except maybe for James Black." You look at her closely.<br/>
<br/>
Her color deepens, and she glances furtively around. "He was-- That was Eileen's idea," she says. Her breaths begin to come in short gasps.<br/>
<br/>
"Ah. He is cute, in that Justin Bieber kind of way, isn't he?" She briefly catches your eye, then looks away. "Are you going to be able to get him? He seems really shy."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I dunno. Maybe you should have me pick some others?" You can't decide if her expression is hopeful or despairing. Possibly, it's both.<br/>
<br/>
You point to the rocks. "Okay, we need fifteen masks, and you guys are going to get eight for us. That leaves me and Frank having to get seven. We're getting Tina and Timothy and Dana for your friends. We can add James to the list. For you." She says nothing. "Hey." You lightly tap her knee. "We're getting these things as keys to Lemuria, but nothing says you can't have 'fun' too."<br/>
<br/>
She looks utterly miserable. "I don't know, Joe. What Eileen and Joshua--especially Joshua--it just seems ... wrong, somehow."<br/>
<br/>
"It's not hurting anyone," you softly say. She doesn't reply. "Don't worry about it," you finally tell her. "You just concentrate on getting keys. Work with Eileen and Joshua, out at his place. It'll all work out."<br/>
<br/>
She swallows, and you help her to her feet and send her on her way. Frank smiles tightly at you. "Sounds like you've outsmarted yourself," he says.<br/>
<br/>
But you're not sure. If you got James for her, that might be the lever you need to upend her, and bring her in line with her friends.</span></div></div>


path: 1112312221221221211111222111122112122221112211
author_id: seuzz
title: The Mystery of James Black
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>James Black.</i> Quiet kid. Slim, but not skinny. Dresses in blue jeans and button-down shirts. When he's going casual, he'll leave the shirt open and wear a t-shirt underneath. Thick brown hair in a bowl cut with a "swoop." You've got him in a couple of classes. He doesn't talk to many people, and you're not even sure you know what his voice sounds like. He gives the impression of trying to get through school without anyone noticing him.<br/>
<br/>
You have him for English class, and you watch him without being obvious about it. At one point Peter Robins leans over and has a quick consultation with him. It looks like a friendly talk, although Black looks as guarded as ever when it's done.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, what's the deal with James Black," you ask Peter afterwards as you hook up with him. "He's just so quiet," you explain when Peter asks what you mean. "Does he have any friends?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know," Peter says. "I guess. We played soccer back in middle school. He was a little more outgoing back then." He laughs. "Kyle would be the one to talk to about James. Just ask Kyle," he adds when you ask what he means by that.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"And at the end of the old dark street is an old dark gate. And behind the old dark gate is a long dark sidewalk. And at the end of the long dark sidewalk is an old dark house."<br/>
<br/>
That's Kyle speaking, and he has the circle of third-graders utterly entranced. You also gasp, and clutch at Jenny Taylor's arm. "I don't like scary stories," you squeak. "Make him stop."<br/>
<br/>
"Let go of me," she snickers back, "or my boyfriend will <i>really</i> give you something to be scared of."<br/>
<br/>
It's after school, and you're at the municipal library, where Jenny and Kyle do volunteer work. Today it's Kyle's turn to read to the kids. You release her arm and look around. "It can't be scarier than this place," you sigh. "All these books. It's like something out of a nightmare."<br/>
<br/>
"Why is it so hard for you?" she asks. "It's just reading." Her face turns serious. "Joe, are you dyslexic?" she asks in a gentle tone.<br/>
<br/>
You let your eyes fall. "Maybe. If I knew what that word meant."<br/>
<br/>
"AND IT'S GOT YOU!" Kyle yells, and all the kids squeal. He grins up at you and Jenny.<br/>
<br/>
"Speaking of kids who are scared of their own shadows," you say to her. "What's the deal with James Black?"<br/>
<br/>
Her eyebrows crinkle. "That's a weird segue. A weird way to change the subject," she adds as your own eyebrows crinkle. "I don't think of James as someone who's scared of his own shadow."<br/>
<br/>
You shrug. "He always seems to jump when I try talking to him."<br/>
<br/>
"That's <i>you,</i> Joe," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"I love it when pretty girls talk about me, but tell me about James."<br/>
<br/>
"He's just quiet," she sighs. She does turn thoughtful, though, when you tell her what Peter said. "Yeah, he was on the soccer team back in middle school. With Kyle and Peter and some of the other guys. He was good. He was very good."<br/>
<br/>
"As good as Kyle?" you tease.<br/>
<br/>
She glances at you and over at Kyle, then turns her back to her boyfriend. "He was better than Kyle." Your jaw drops: Kyle is going to be a pro, there's no doubt of it. "He was the star on the team. He wasn't a hot-dogger about it, either. I'm not even sure he realized he was as good as he was. He's always been very modest." Her shoulders hunch, and she becomes very furtive. "That's one of the big 'what ifs'. What if he hadn't quit at the end of middle school? What if--?" But she trails off.<br/>
<br/>
"So what does he do now?"<br/>
<br/>
"Keeps to himself. I've tried pulling him out of his shell. But it's like, the harder you pull at him, the harder he pulls away."<br/>
<br/>
"Girls?"<br/>
<br/>
"There are a lot of girls with big crushes on him. I don't think he notices. Or he doesn't want to notice."<br/>
<br/>
"Is he gay?"<br/>
<br/>
She shoots you a sharp look. "If he is," she says in a tight voice, "it's because of home life, not school life. You know what I mean." She jabs you in the chest.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, that's cool, I'm not making a judgment, I'm just trying to understand him. I'm a sociable guy and I was thinking of trying to hang out with him."<br/>
<br/>
"Good luck with that."<br/>
<br/>
"Good luck with what?" That's Kyle, sauntering up. He tags Jenny. "Your turn to take a break. I'll handle babysitting duties." He grins at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Am I really so hard to talk to?" you cry.<br/>
<br/>
He just laughs. "The subject is James Black," Jenny says, then goes off to join the kids.<br/>
<br/>
"James Black, huh?" Kyle says. "That's a little unusual."<br/>
<br/>
You recount your various conversations to Kyle. You can't tell for sure, but Kyle seems a little stiff. He shrugs at your questions. "Yeah, he was really good. He shouldn't have quit. I don't know why he did. I guess maybe it had to do with moving from middle school to high school. It's a rough transition for some guys." He doesn't meet your eye.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You're mulling this still when Joshua calls, asking you to come over after supper to help with an ambush of Elisabeth Pruit. You agree.<br/>
<br/>
It's dark down in Joshua's rec room when you arrive, and the air is full of incense and strange, thrumming music. Elisabeth is already there, looking distinctly ill at ease. She looks up at you with relief in her eye, but it clouds over when you kneel on the futon next to her. "I'm not used to seeing you in a place like this," you say, and lean in close to her.<br/>
<br/>
"It's not my usual scene," she admits.<br/>
<br/>
"She fainted," Joshua chortles. "I guess it's a little intense for her." Eileen has a huge but slightly terrified grin on her face.<br/>
<br/>
"Do you need rescuing, Elisabeth?" you ask. Relief returns to her face as you stand and extend a hand to her, and she lets you help her up. "Let's go someplace where the air is a little clearer." You don't release her hand, and she doesn't pull away, as you lead her back up the stairs and out of the house.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't usually hang out with them," she says when you're out by her car. "And now I remember why."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be mean," you gently chide her. "Joshua's cool. You're just cooler in a different way. Are you okay? You look a little pale." She nods curtly. "How are things with you and Mitch?"<br/>
<br/>
She stiffens. "Everything's <i>fine</i> with us, Joe."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, don't blame me for trying," you lightly jest. You open her car door for her. "Joshua called, said you were out here, and I thought that one way or another you might want to see my face." She gets in, and you shut the door, then lean in at the window. "If they invite Mitch over here, don't stop him from coming. Joshua needs to learn not to fuck around with people."<br/>
<br/>
She starts to argue, but you step back with a smile and just wave her farewell.<br/>
<br/>
Back in the basement, you find Joshua clutching the mask and grinning like a maniac. "Wow, it really worked. I guess we didn't need your help."<br/>
<br/>
"I gave you some anyway." You take the mask from him, and from your kit draw out the jar that has the sealant in it. "Invite Mitch over tomorrow or soon, make it sound like you want to make up for freaking Elisabeth out. Be sure to have me on hand."<br/>
<br/>
Joshua and Eileen watch as you seal up the mask, and then you hold it out with a smile. Eileen snatches it before Joshua can. He groans as she ducks into the bathroom, but bounces excitedly until she returns.<br/>
<br/>
Eileen's clothes look a little odd on her new form: a swimmer in a short bob, her body sculpted by lots of practice slicing through water. She's also a little uncertain on her feet as she goes over to Joshua. As you did with Elisabeth, she kneels rather than sits next to him. "You are so nasty," she tells him.<br/>
<br/>
"But am I sexy, Elisabeth?" he murmurs back.<br/>
<br/>
"No. You're kind of disgusting. But that makes it kind of hot." She kisses him lightly, almost daintily. He tenses and keeps his arms crossed as he kisses her back. Their lips barely touch.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't mind me, kids," you say, and turn around. "I'll just stare at this wall over here." It's lined with marionettes, hanging from the ceiling, in a display that looks very macabre in the dim light. The air conditioner is on, and they swing subtly in the draught. <br/>
<br/>
"Can we invite Mitch over now?" Elisabeth asks. You flick an amused glance back at her, and shake your head. "Because I'd really like--"<br/>
<br/>
Your cell phone rings: Darcy. "I'm calling from a toilet stall," she says brusquely. "Can you meet me so we can make this switch?"<br/>
<br/>
"Is Karter knocked out?" you as in surprise.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be dumb, I said I'm calling from a toilet stall. I got his mask about twenty minutes ago while we were-- Oh God, the things I do to stay alive."<br/>
<br/>
"You loved it, and don't pretend you didn't. He's all animal magnetism, and Darcy's lost in his coils."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well <i>I'm</i> not," she says hotly. <br/>
<br/>
"But think of the fun you'll have when you <i>are</i> him."<br/>
<br/>
"Look, can we just rendezvous--that's a <i>real</i> French word, by the way, Joe. Can we just rendezvous someplace so we can finish it up?"<br/>
<br/>
Joshua's basement is the perfect spot. But that would mean showing Joshua and Elisabeth how to pull off a switch. On the other hand--your eye goes back to the marionettes--they would probably really like the idea.</span></div></div>


path: 11123122212212212111112221111221121222211122111
author_id: seuzz
title: Puppet Theater
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You have no idea how you're going to work it, but it's too good an opportunity to pass up. "Sure," you say, affecting a casual tone that you don't really feel. "You know where Joshua Cheswick lives, right?" She curses. "Yeah, well, it's perfect, and Karter would <i>love</i> to hang out over there, wouldn't he? Quiet, quiet, quiet!" She shuts up. "Head over there, Joshua will help keep him entertained. I'll be along in about forty minutes."<br/>
<br/>
You turn back to Joshua and his new friend. "Hey kids, you mind if Darcy and Adam Karter stop by?" <br/>
<br/>
Joshua winces--and then the penny drops: "Wait, isn't he supposed to be--"<br/>
<br/>
"Yep. That's why she's bringing him over. I gotta run an errand, and they'll be here before I get back." <br/>
<br/>
Eileen sighs and puts her hand to the side of her face. You watch with quiet amusement as she struggles. "How do I get this off?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll show you later. And you don't have to take it off now."<br/>
<br/>
"But if Adam--"<br/>
<br/>
"Trust me, it'll be okay if he sees 'Elisabeth' here." You wink and Joshua. "Isn't that some of the fun? Pretending to be other people in front of other people?"<br/>
<br/>
Joshua chortles and claps his hands together.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your errand consists in going back to the house so you can prepare some golem sealant--Keith's request caught you flat-footed at Joshua's. And since you've no other hair on hand, you use your own--taking off Joe's mask, briefly--in the mixture. It would actually be advantageous to have Darcy under your control.<br/>
<br/>
There's another car in front of Joshua's when you get back, and the basement is even darker, and you can barely make out the two new figures in the gloom. "Is it me, or did it just get cuter in here," you jest as your reintroduction. You stand behind one of the new figures; he leans back to look up at you. "Oh, it's Karter, so I guess it was me."<br/>
<br/>
You can't make out his face clearly, but you know what he looks like: a sun-darkened face under a shaggy, sun-bleached mop. "Dumbass," he retorts.<br/>
<br/>
"I take it back, it is cuter with Karter. Hey Darcy, where's that thing you were telling me about earlier?" She fumbles a mask from her bag, and you quickly take it and put it on Adam's face. You poke Darcy in the shoulder. "Bathroom. Let's get you ready for the swap."<br/>
<br/>
"What's going on?" That's Elisabeth's voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Got a new trick to show you guys," you reply as you follow Darcy. "Keep an eye on his face. When the mask comes out, grab it, and don't wake him up. If he wakes up before I get back, just pretend like nothing happened."<br/>
<br/>
The bathroom is small, containing only a vanity and a toilet. You close the door as you flick on the light, and force Darcy to the floor. "We're on a deadline, so pardon me for being rude." Instinctively, she grapples your wrist as you grab her face, then it's Keith slumping against the wall. You take the sealant from your pocket, then lean over and cover his mouth while pinching his nose. The interruption of oxygen forces Keith awake with a choking cough. You perch on the vanity and start to coat the inside of Darcy's mask with the sealant. "So, how much of Karter's cum did you swallow with this thing?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, God, fuck you," he groans. "We didn't do anything like that."<br/>
<br/>
"The way you were talking on the phone, I figured you probably let him take you from multiple directions. Well, I'm sure you'll be spackling up all of Darcy's breaches once we've got the swap finished." You grin as he gags. "Oh come on. You'll wanna brag and you won't wanna lie about it. I'll tell Darcy to let you have your way with her."<br/>
<br/>
"If I felt better, I'd climb up there and strangle you." <br/>
<br/>
"You'd have to feel a lot better than you've ever felt in your life to do that," you retort.<br/>
<br/>
"So what am I supposed to tell the guys out there about this," he asks, and lets out a soft belch.<br/>
<br/>
"That you're Darcy and that you've swapped places with Adam Karter. You won't have Darcy's memories to guide you, of course, so just stick to playing in character as Karter. Bug out early, and avoid them at school. And there we are." You blow the sealant dry. "I'll be back in a moment with your new look."<br/>
<br/>
Karter is still out cold, even though his mask has reappeared, so you put Darcy's face on him. She is instantly present again. Joshua and Elisabeth both rear back. "What are you doing?" the former yelps.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, you're gonna love this, Joshua," you chortle. "That's Darcy. A fake Darcy." You lean in over him and grin. "A <i>puppet</i> Darcy."<br/>
<br/>
His jaw works soundlessly.<br/>
<br/>
"Karter is under that mask, but he's asleep. He doesn't know what's going on. And this thing?" You stroke Darcy's hair as she glares up at you. "This is a fake Darcy. A completely lifelike marionette that can act just like her, and will act just like her. But she has to do what the real Darcy says. Isn't that right, sweetheart?"<br/>
<br/>
"Somehow, I don't feel like arguing with you," the golem says. It's a tactful reply, as it is your slave.<br/>
<br/>
"But what is Darcy-- Oooh!" Joshua gasps as you pick up Karter's mask. <br/>
<br/>
"That's right. Darcy can't be herself, not with this puppet running around, living her life for her. And someone has to step in for Adam. So that's what she's going to do. Darcy," you turn, addressing the golem and handing her Karter's mask. "Take this in to the bathroom and change clothes with the person in there, that's a good girl."<br/>
<br/>
"Could we-- With Elisabeth-- And Mitch--?" Joshua is so excited he can't finish his sentences.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. But you have to do two things for me." You leap over the sofa and crouch between your two confederates. You draw them close. "After you get me those four masks you owe me, get six more. Three apiece. That way you have <i>lots</i> of puppets, Joshua. Second, don't tell Ursula about this. Just let it be our little secret, about the puppets, and about the extra masks. Let <i>me</i> explain it to her. Also--" You raise your head and stare hard at the bathroom while thinking. "Also, you will need to treat the fake Darcy like the real one, and treat the new Adam Karter like the real Karter. It's really Darcy, but it'll be a lot less confusing if you treat that person the way she-- excuse me, <i>he</i> looks."<br/>
<br/>
Joshua eagerly agrees, and the girl murmurs her assent as well. "What is Darcy going to do with the puppet?" Joshua titters. "You know, while looking like Adam?"<br/>
<br/>
"I think we both know the answer to that," you reply. "And don't embarrass her by smirking over it, okay?"<br/>
<br/>
You talk a little more with them about "puppets" until Darcy and Adam reappear, the latter swaggering out with his arm around the former. "Hey Karter, you friends with James Black," you ask him.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I hang out with him sometimes." He drops onto a futon and pulls Darcy roughly down beside him. Despite your warning, Elisabeth and Joshua exchange smirks as he strokes her arm.<br/>
<br/>
"Think you could talk him into stopping by my house with you tomorrow after school?"<br/>
<br/>
"I could talk him into almost anything," he replies in an insolently boastful tone. "Why, aren't <i>you</i> friends with him, Dumbass?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll dumbass your dumb ass, dumbass. Be a team player and bring him over. Okay, you kids have fun with your new toys. I got one more place to stop by before I can call it a night."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your one final stop is Patterson's, where you're sure you'll find-- "You got something of mine, don't you, Steve-orino?" you challenge him. "Big, lumpy, made outta shit from a graveyard, answers when I call it?" He grunts. "I think I might need it. If it's here, help me move it out to my truck?" He sighs and complies, though he also can't resist pointing out that it would easier to move if you'd brought a mask. "Yeah, and if a frog had wings it wouldn't bump its ass a'hoppin'."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Ursula swallows. She can't quite bring herself to look at it directly, you notice. "It looks just like him," you say quietly. "Acts just like him, too. Is that going to be a problem?"<br/>
<br/>
"He" is James Black. Except he isn't. He's the golem, with James Black's mask on him. Karter, true to his promise, brought Black out; there was another one of those stupid tussles--this time a three-way with you, Frank, and Adam--that knocked a guest out when a mask landed on his face; they departed, and if James is ticked at you, he's either too polite or too passive-aggressive to show it. And then you invited Ursula over, and brought the boy she requested (dressed in some of your clothes) out of the bedroom.<br/>
<br/>
She swallows again. "This is-- This is--"<br/>
<br/>
"It's supposed to be 'fun'."<br/>
<br/>
"It's messed up."<br/>
<br/>
"It's not hurting anyone. Go on, try him out." You nudge her close to him. He flinches back, until you catch his eye. Then, looking utterly miserable, he puts his arms around her. The embrace is the saddest thing you've ever seen.<br/>
<br/>
"It's no good," she says.<br/>
<br/>
You have to shrug. "Well, it was worth a try." You reach out to take the mask off the golem.<br/>
<br/>
But she stops you. "Um ... Joshua was telling me something today? About ... puppets?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" Now it's your turn to swallow. <i>Idiot.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Could we ... Could I put his mask on? And put my mask on the--?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure."<br/>
<br/>
"It might work better."<br/>
<br/>
"That it might." You hide your smile.</span></div></div>


path: 111231222122122121111122211112211212222112
author_id: seuzz
title: The Secret of Camp Double Bluff (1)
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You settle back with a sigh. Ursula seems to spend an undue amount of time putting her things together, as though waiting for you to argue her out of leaving. But you say nothing. Finally, with a snort, she gives you a dirty look and stalks out the door.<br/>
<br/>
Frank rises with a grunt and steps into the kitchen. "Should have tried it without all the bullshit," he says as he opens the refrigerator and pulls out two soda cans. "She'd have taken plainer bait."<br/>
<br/>
"Meh. Half the fun was in trying to snow her. What've we got to eat?"<br/>
<br/>
"Cereal and soup. Dad won't deposit next month's allowance for a few more days." Frank hands you one of the cans. "We're gonna have to scrounge or leech off some classmates."<br/>
<br/>
"Lotta marks out there," you reflect. "For food <i>and</i> accomplices." You stare critically at the soda Frank has handed you. "Gotta be some with better taste in soft drinks, too." He whaps you on the side of the head.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your retort notwithstanding, you're rather bummed that things didn't work out with Ursula, and are restless the entire evening. Frank retires to the backyard early, to meditate or do what passes for meditation in a golem. You surf the TV channels, then irritably throw the remote aside and lurch into the bedroom, to collapse on the bed. Your eye flicks over the books on the shelves, part of the handful Joe brought with him to Saratoga Falls. Books on metaphysics, advanced musical composition, mathematics— <br/>
<br/>
Hey, what's that one? You'd not noticed that Frank had packed a few titles for himself: an <i>Encyclopedia Brown</i> collection, a couple of <i>Choose Your Own Adventures,</i> a really old Matt Mason "Little Big Book." Earnest juvenilia, stuff much more Frank's intellectual speed, you grin to yourself. <br/>
<br/>
Your smile turns sentimental, though, at the sight of a short line of ragged hardbacks. Of course Joe and Frank had loved the Hardy Boys when growing up. You pull one down. <i>Oh yeah, this one.</i> You have to grin: Given current circumstances, its sudden reappearance seems peculiarly apt. You hop back onto the bed and study the cover: an outdoor scene, showing log cabins and other rustic accouterments. Atop one of them, incongruously, is a satellite dish, which identifies this title as one of the more recently published adventures. In the foreground, Frank and Joe Hardy are helping a girl to escape armed pursuers, who are being led by what appears to be the girl's twin sister.<br/>
<br/>
You trace a finger over the title (in blistering red, so it <i>means</i> excitement): <i>The Hardy Boys: The Secret of Camp Double Bluff.</i> you open it up and start to read.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *<br/>
Chapter 1</div><br/>
"WE SHOULD MOVE up to the other lake," Frank Hardy said. He shaded his eyes and peered up the stream toward the ridge of tall pines.<br/>
<br/>
"The fish are always biting on the other side of the fence," his brother Joe replied. He grinned. But he knew that Frank knew his business. Frank always prepared ahead of time, whether they were on an adventure or just relaxing on vacation, as they were now.<br/>
<br/>
Frank directed Joe to gather up their rods and tackle while he studied the map. He peered closely at it, then shaded his eyes as he gazed at the far edge of the small lake they had been fishing at for most of the morning.<br/>
<br/>
"This is very strange, Joe," he said. He pointed across the lake. "Do you see two streams over there?"<br/>
<br/>
Joe shaded his eyes. "Yes," he replied. He pointed. "There and there."<br/>
<br/>
"But look at the map," his brother said. "This is the most recent survey map, the one we picked up from the Forest Service. It only shows one stream, the one coming down from the other lake."<br/>
<br/>
Joe stroked his chin. "Maybe there was a flood, and the stream divided in two farther up?"<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe," his brother said thoughtfully. "In that case, I suppose it doesn't matter which one we follow."<br/>
<br/>
He helped Joe stow the rest of their gear in their packs, and then they hiked their packs onto their backs. They made their slow way around the edge of the lake.<br/>
<br/>
But when they arrived at the first stream, Frank stopped. "This doesn't make sense. There's a ridge between them. It's too big for this to be one stream that's divided."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you sure we're at the right lake," Joe asked. He didn't like suggesting that his brother had led them to the wrong spot, but Frank always said they had to entertain any hypothesis when faced with a mystery.<br/>
<br/>
Frank's face tightened. "I suppose we could double check our location with the GPS unit that ATAC gave us. But I didn't think I could have gotten us--"<br/>
<br/>
He stopped, for Joe had grabbed his arm. "There's something in moving among the trees. Maybe it's a deer," he added excitedly.<br/>
<br/>
Frank smiled. "Then we should go take a look. Do you want me to get your camera out of your pack?"<br/>
<br/>
Joe shook his head. He was too excited when he got a scent in his nose. He trotted heavily up the slope into the screen of trees. Frank followed.<br/>
<br/>
Just a few feet in, they both stopped with their mouths hanging open. A human figure, dressed in white, was crouching next to a tree, like she was trying to hide. It was a girl, and she looked like she was about fifteen years old. She had long brown hair, and her face was also brown. But her eyes were very blue. Joe thought they were the bluest eyes he had ever seen.<br/>
<br/>
She turned these eyes, wide with terror, on the brothers, then hid her face and cowered. "Please, don't hurt me," she gasped.<br/>
<br/>
Frank and Joe looked at each other, and then hurried over to her. They had helped lots of people in trouble before, and their instinct was definitely to help this girl.<br/>
<br/>
"It's alright," Frank said in a firm but gentle tone. He knew better than to touch her, for it would frighten her. Instead, he hunched down a foot or two back. "We're just campers. What's wrong?"<br/>
<br/>
She looked back fearfully, and Frank could see that she had been crying. "There are men trying to catch me," she said in a small voice. "I left camp without permission."<br/>
<br/>
"What camp is this," Joe asked.<br/>
<br/>
Frank laid his hand on Joe's arm and shook his head. "Our truck is back down there," he said to the girl, and pointed down the stream. "We'll take you to it. We have water and food there. You'll feel better, and we'll talk about it."<br/>
<br/>
The girl sniffed, and glanced between them. "You're not from the camp?"<br/>
<br/>
Joe shook his head. "We don't even know what camp you're talking about. We didn't know there was one up here."<br/>
<br/>
The girl swallowed, then put her hand in Frank's outstretched hand. She gave him a small smile as he helped her to stand.<br/>
<br/>
Frank looked her up and down very quickly, looking for clues to what might be going on. Her dress was thin and white. Frank thought it looked more like a hospital gown than a proper dress. He noticed that her legs, which were slim and tanned, were badly scratched. She must have been running hard through underbrush. Her tennis shoes were also torn.<br/>
<br/>
"Do you have anything with you?" Joe asked. Frank smiled to himself, glad that Joe was there to help remember questions like that.<br/>
<br/>
The girl shook her head. "I left camp about an hour ago. There was a hole in the fence, and I went through it. Someone saw me. I ran along the road. Then I heard a truck following. I went up the hill into the woods. And then I got lost." She sniffed again.<br/>
<br/>
Frank could tell she was about to start crying again. "Let's get you some food," he said. "You'll feel better--"<br/>
<br/>
A sharp <i>crack</i> tore through the air, and Joe instinctively threw himself to the ground. He pulled the girl down too. Frank crouched and scurried behind a tree. There was another <i>crack,</i> and a spray of bark exploded off one of the trees.<br/>
<br/>
Frank caught his brother's eye and pointed: the shot had come from over there. Joe crawled along the ground on his belly, pulling the girl with him, until they were both behind a bush next to a thick tree.<br/>
<br/>
Frank cautiously looked out from his hiding spot. He thought he saw movement in the brush. He pulled back, and waggled a finger at Joe. But before he could move, another rifle shot hit the tree near him. He dropped to his stomach and wormed his way over to Joe.<br/>
<br/>
"They've got us on two sides, at least," he whispered to his brother.<br/>
<br/>
"There's probably more," the girl whimpered. "I saw six of them get out of the truck, and they all had guns!" <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Exciting stuff,</i> you think to yourself, though mentally you put slightly sarcastic scare quotes around "exciting."<br/>
<br/>
You look at the clock; you rarely crash before midnight, and it's barely ten o'clock now. Still, maybe you should make an early night of it.</span></div></div>


path: 1112312221221221211111222111122112122221121
author_id: seuzz
title: The Secret of Camp Double Bluff (2)
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><div align="center">Chapter 2</div><br/>
"I DON'T CARE how many there are," Frank said. "We'll keep you safe."<br/>
<br/>
"You can trust us," Joe said. The girl was looking very frightened. "We've been in situations like this before."<br/>
<br/>
Frank raised his finger to his lips. Joe fell silent. They didn't want to give away their position.<br/>
<br/>
Frank looked around. He knew Joe wasn't going to like his idea, but he felt that he didn't have a choice. He picked a large rock up from the ground and hurled it off into some bushes. It cracked hard off a tree. Then he scrambled over to join Joe and the girl.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm going to lure them away," he told Joe in a low voice. "We'll stand a better chance if we separate."<br/>
<br/>
Joe's eyes widened. "You'll get your head blown off!" he hissed.<br/>
<br/>
"No I won't," Frank said with a smile. "I've got it on too tight. You wait until I'm away, and then you try to get back to the truck. There's tall grass back by the lake. Stick to it. I'll meet you later."<br/>
<br/>
Joe tensed. He wanted badly to argue, but he knew it was no use. Frank could be stubborn, and it would be worse to make noise than to let Frank go off. <br/>
<br/>
He and Frank quietly slipped their packs off. Then Frank hefted another rock into the brush, and scampered away. <br/>
<br/>
Joe swallowed hard as he watched him go, then pulled the girl close and motioned her to keep silent. There was a great risk that their pursuers, in trying to track Frank, would stumble through this clearing.<br/>
<br/>
Sure enough, only a minute later, Joe heard a noise from behind a nearby bush, and he cautiously raised his head. He held his breath, for not ten feet away was one of their pursuers. <br/>
<br/>
Joe studied his features carefully, for when he had to make a report. The man had thick brown hair, rather long along the sides, that fell down to the middle of his neck. He stood in profile, peering around a tree. He was squinting, so Joe couldn't make out the color of his eyes. His nose was large and hawk-like, and his thin lips were pulled down in a frown. Joe thought he looked like a cruel bird of prey. <br/>
<br/>
He didn't have long to study the man, for he ducked and disappeared. Apparently, Frank's ruse was working.<br/>
<br/>
Then Joe was distracted by another rustling, and he looked behind. He had to stifle a shout, for the girl had risen and was sprinting quickly for the gap in the trees. Joe felt his heart go into his mouth. The girl was being very stupid, he knew.<br/>
<br/>
But he couldn't run after her, not with their pursuers so close. In fact, if the man he had just seen heard her--<br/>
<br/>
Joe silently moved up the slope a few feet, until he was directly behind the bush where he had just seen that one hunter. A few moments later he heard a scrambling sound, and he looked up to see the man step from the bush. Joe was crouched only a few feet away, and he saw little of the man except for his blue jeans and a heavy jacket. He had a rifle clutched in his hands.<br/>
<br/>
Joe waited until he had taken another step, and then silently lunged forward and clasped him around his feet, pulling them back while he rammed his head into the man's lower back. With only a quiet gasp, the man tumbled to the floor of the forest. As he put out his hands to break his fall, his rifle fell from his hands and clattered away. The dirt crunched under his body.<br/>
<br/>
Quick as a flash, Joe was on top of him and quickly put him in a headlock. The man muttered and swore, but Joe tightened his grip. He fell silent.<br/>
<br/>
Joe smiled grimly to himself. He could guess what was going through the man's mind: Who was on top of him? What did he want? Was he armed? Was there more than one person holding him down? <br/>
<br/>
Joe thought he only had a few seconds before his captive would risk a shout to draw his own friends. He looked around and saw the rifle where it had fallen.<br/>
<br/>
Joe hated the idea of using firearms, even just as a threat. But it might be the only way to hold the pursuers at bay long enough for Frank and the girl to get away.<br/>
<br/>
He tensed himself, and then rapidly pulled his hands off the man while simultaneously leaping over and off him. He grabbed up the rifle as he tumbled over it, and came back out and around in a roll and a crouch. As he rose into a half-sitting position, he saw that his adversary had raised himself to his knees. He and the man stared at each other.<br/>
<br/>
Now Joe had a good look at his face, and knew he would be able to remember it and describe it accurately. He had a broad forehead and clean brow. His eyes were large and well-spaced and almost almond shaped; they were also bright green. He had pronounced cheekbones and cheeks that sank to a firm jaw and a slightly pointed chin. His mouth was small but the lips were full.<br/>
<br/>
From the side, Joe had thought, he looked like an eagle or a hawk. Faced full-on, Joe was struck by how handsome he was. He appeared to be only in his late twenties or early thirties, and his features came together in a way that seemed like they would photograph well. In fact, as Joe studied him, he had the odd feeling that he had seen the man's face before in an advertisement.<br/>
<br/>
But however handsome he looked, he didn't look happy. His eyes burned as he glared at Joe. He raised his hands to his shoulders.<br/>
<br/>
Joe thought quickly. The most important thing was rescuing the girl. He couldn't take the man prisoner. It would be enough to hold him at bay until the girl got far away, and until Frank could get away and double back. After they escaped, they could go to the authorities. The girl would have enough information that the police could swoop in on this mysterious camp.<br/>
<br/>
Another rifle shot rang out, and Joe flinched a little. A small smile crept onto the man's face. Joe realized he had to do something to steer the pursuers off Frank's trail.<br/>
<br/>
The man's smile faded as Joe rose to his feet and raised the rifle. Joe took careful aim, and the man's mouth fell open. Joe pulled the trigger.<br/>
<br/>
The crack by his ear was deafening, and bark exploded off a tree above the man's head. He hurled himself to the ground, and as he fell Joe turned and ran to follow the girl. The ground on one side of the stream continued to rise into a ridge, and Joe hugged the side of it until he came to the edge of the small lake, where the ridge rose to a small, sheer cliff. He ducked under the cliff and peered behind him. As he did, he heard the man shouting hoarsely.<br/>
<br/>
Joe looked over his shoulder. About fifty yards away, in the tall grass by the lake, he saw the girl's head bobbing. He waved at her to get down, and she ducked out of sight. Joe took another quick look up the stream, and saw nothing. He decided it was his chance to get away, so he dropped the rifle and quickly ran down to join the girl.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you alright," he asked her. She was pale, but she nodded. "You shouldn't have run off, but it looks like it will be okay. Let's get back to our truck." As he took her hand and led her at a hard run, he hoped fervently that Frank would be okay.<br/>
<br/>
Luckily, he didn't have to wait long to find out. As they came around to the other side of the lake Joe heard a shout, and turned back to see Frank running up to join them. The boys' mutual congratulations were short-lived. "Let's get back to the cabins," Frank said. "We'll be safer there."<br/>
<br/>
They made it back to their truck, and Frank drove them quickly down the dirt road for a few miles until they came to the camp grounds. It was a line of ten cabins, very rude and rough. There were other campers in the area, and Frank knew that they would be safe with other people around.<br/>
<br/>
As he helped the girl from the truck he looked her over carefully. She didn't seem to be badly hurt except for the scratches on her legs, and he judged she was more scared than anything else. He led her to the door to the boys' cabin. "You should go in there and get cleaned up," he directed her. "We'll be in in a few minutes, and then we'll take you to the ranger station so you can tell the authorities your story."<br/>
<br/>
The girl bit her lip and nodded, and then with seeming impulsiveness threw her arms around Frank and hugged him. He turned very pink, and Joe grinned at his discomfort.<br/>
<br/>
"My hero," Joe said in a squeaky voice when she was inside. Frank punched his brother in the shoulder, even though he knew he was just teasing. "Seriously, that was a really gutsy thing you did."<br/>
<br/>
"We're not done yet," Frank said grimly. "We're going to have to question her. Given her age, and the fact that we were on hand, this might be a case for--"<br/>
<br/>
"ATAC?" a voice cut in. The boys looked over in surprise at the man who had stepped from around the corner of the cabins. He was in a business suit, and his face was unsmiling. Frank's eyes narrowed until he took out an ID and handed it to them. "Robert Wallis. I'm glad I found you boys without having to hike in." He looked up the road they had just driven down, and grimaced. "I hate the outdoors."<br/>
<br/>
"What can we do for you, Mr. Wallis," Frank asked. He indicated the ID. "And for ATAC?"<br/>
<br/>
"You can help us with a case," he replied. "I've been sent to give you a new one."</span></div></div>


