Brutal Dawn (IC, Closed)

[Kazomal]

The Tagmatine looked down the hole to see that Rob was not injured from his fall into the low-ceilinged basement, which now lay open, with similar debris to the top floor, albeit more animal nests and leavings, and a few rodents scurrying to cover.

[The Fanboyists]

As Leon spoke, a mental admonishment came through. I still hadn't figured out if it was worrisome or not that I always heard such admonishments in Morgraine's voice. The man had been a tough task-master, but I'd learned a lot from him, and as a result, I still wasn't quite sure what I thought about my mentor. That was a dumb suggestion, and insubordinate to boot, I heard him say. You need to take things like that into consideration, which is why you're still an investigator and not a team leader.

I heard Iasitas' voice behind me, some distance, asking if he could have a word with me. I turned around, half-expecting to get chewed out. It wasn't overly likely, but I was prepared for that, along with the more likely possibility that he just wanted to know what I'd been able to glean. Actually, in light of him calling Zoe over, that seemed infinitely more likely...

And damn. She didn't sound like a little girl now. In point of fact, the only things I'd ever heard speak like that were wholly inhuman. Call me prejudiced, but things like that give me the creeps, and now more than any person I'd ever met, she'd set me on edge. I thanked God that I had closed my Sight before looking at her. I figured I'd probably need a change of pants if I did that. I shuddered a little bit.

I swallowed, and then informed our team leader of what I'd seen.

"Sir, I didn't get much in the way of specifics. Mostly feelings, and rough time estimates. This building was home to a lot of anxiety and boredom. There was some death here, and some amount of magical energy was used here at some point, but I can't glean its exact nature. The building was burned down a few decades ago, and whoever did it must have been real proud of 'emselves, seeing as the imprint of that satisfaction is palpable even now. Unfortunately, the fire scoured away most residual energies, so I can't tell you exactly what happened here." I paused, and added one more thing. "In my professional opinion, sir, this ain't our temple. It might well be important to investigate, but--"

I stopped as I heard a crashing and a shout. After a moment, I recognized the voice as Robert. Oh, lovely. Something was up. I ran over with Iasitas to see a big hole in the ground in the middle of the ruined structure. I sighed.

"Looks like we're gonna be giving this thing a look today, then..." I said drily. I shouted down the hole, next. "Y'all right, Rob?" Well, that's what I meant to call out. What actually came out was a bit different, as the rising dust made me cough profusely for almost a full minute. Damned debris.

[SF n F]

The Metal Man was the first to reach Rob after the fall. He hovered a few feet above the man. Switching to X-ray, he made sure that no bones were broken. There was no debris on top of the man--he had been relatively lucky. Extraction should have been easy.

His arm became a rope, that snaked down to Robert. "If you need a loop," he said with a smile, "you can always tie a bolend."

"By the way," he said, his grin broadening, "the next time you go off and play 'musical chairs,' you might want to wait for the music to actually start."

[Brays Bastards]

Jerico was pleased to see Iasitas doing his policeman bit, taking down notes and interviewing those affected. The older man simply made a few mental notes about the fate of the building, and was beginning to ask Danny what he thought about all of it when something collapsed inside of the temple...

"Well, you did warn him..."

"Yup..."

The tone of Briggs' voice was akin to a weary parent who'd just watched their child injure themselves after being told not to do something. Sounded like Rob had fallen down a hole of some kind. Jerico produced a small SureFire flashlight from his jacket while Danny flipped on the light attached to his primary weapon as both neared the edge of the hole. His go-bag had about fifty feet of rappelling rope coiled inside of it if they needed to haul him out from the basement...

"Leon, do your scans pick up anything else that might make this place come down on our heads? We might be doing more harm than good packing in here like this..."

St. Croix, oddly agile for a man of his years, simply dropped down into the hole and landed with a grunt. The beam of his flashlight played around the cellar, looking for anything interesting...

[SF n F]

"If you'd left it to me," the Metal Man said from the air, "you wouldn't have had those considerations. Now I've got to haul two of you out of there." He chuckled. "And the music hasn't even started." He sobered slightly. "The place is pretty flimsy. It looks like it won't come down if I lift you out the way you came, but I can't guarantee anything else. Let me take a closer look."

Dispatching his faux rope, he hovered down and brought the plasma cannons out of his arms. On a very low setting, they made excellent flood lights.

"No supporting columns," he said. "The structure is entirely dependent on the tensile strength of the roof beams--and I wouldn't want to be the bookie who took bets on whether or not the rest of them are going to hold."

[Brays Bastards]

The old man spoke with a dismissive tone in his voice...

"If what the others saw in their visions is around here, the basement is going to be the best place to look. People have this thing about burying their secrets, in either the literal or figurative sense. Its instinctive to hide things below ground if you're not wanting them to be found..."

Danny spoke up from above...

"Well hurry the Hell up and find whatever it is you think is hidden down there. This fucking shit-hole seems to be held together with cob-webs and rat feces, best we exfil while we've still got the option..."

Jerico shook his head, casting the light around to the farther corners of the room...

"Patience my boy, patience. Zoe, does any of this room look familiar?"

[Tagmatium]

At least Rob wasn’t injured from his fall, just looking stunned. Falling through a floor would do that. Iasitas attempted to exchange a glance with Waalturs in order to express his exasperation, but remembered the man wasn’t keen on making eye contact for any length of time. Part of him, the part that remained resolutely a secret policeman, judged that it was because the wizard was hiding something. Another part of him, the paranormal investigator agreed with the internal secret policeman – and said it was something better left unknown.

Iasitas watched as the Metal Man extended a metal tendril and shouted down to Rob. Just when the Tagmatine was beginning to think of the cyborg as human… Jerico followed Rob in, in a manner that Iasitas doubted he could follow, despite being roughly twenty years younger. He felt a spike of irritation as the older man followed the young soldier into the basement.

Let’s all play in the fucking hole, then.

“Since both of you are down there, I want you two to have a proper nose around,” he said, trying to keep his annoyance out of his voice. “And once we’re back in Elos, I’d like a full written report, including the location of every single piece of rat shit that you find.”

That probably drove home the point that he wasn’t best pleased with how the situation was turning out, forcing paperwork on them. Jerico was right, however.

The basement was the best place to start, although Iasitas hadn’t planned on starting to investigate the structure fully until the next day. Now fortune had forced their hand, they might as well start on finding out what was down there. At worst – nothing more than old stores and decades of decay. There was also the potential for a couple of bodies down there and Iasitas couldn’t quite decide at that point whether that was a good thing, as it could generate leads, or a bad thing. Undoubtedly, they’d have to call in the local coppers, which could result in awkward questions, especially about the hardware Briggs was lugging around. However, if the bodies were old enough, they wouldn’t be called in for questioning for that long. And even if this Galloway and his friends were still fresh and squishy, then the travel documents that they had would mean that they couldn’t possibly be responsible for the death of them.

He turned away from the basement and ran his hand through his hair, a sign of the irritation he was doing well to keep off his face. As he turned away, he had a look at the walls of the building and it started him off on a train of thought. Just how old was this building, anyway? The bricks were regular and they were in a forest, which meant they probably hadn’t been made locally. It had been a fairly long hike to get here, well away from any proper track. You didn’t just make a brick structure in the middle of no-where, unless it had originally been a building relating to logging or some other industry, perhaps mining. Had it been purpose-built for the Cult or had they taken over an existing structure, repurposing it as they saw fit?

Iasitas scrubbed at his chin as he looked around. Desks, chairs, cots… The cots meant that people were staying here for long periods of time, which was pretty obvious considering how isolated the building was. Desks could be used for anything, really, but they inferred administrative tasks. So, if it was an industrial building, this wouldn’t have been an area where they carried out their main work, as they were carrying out paperwork and sleeping here. Outbuildings…

He looked at his watch. It was early afternoon, not too late. There was still enough time to get the camp rigged up before dark if these distractions continued.

“Leon, stay here and watch those two and Zoe. If there is any trouble, I want them out of that pit as fast as you can get them.”

Briggs had the firepower, Waalturs had the esoteric power. They’d be useful keeping an eye on the impromptu spelunkers, but Iasitas didn’t want to go wandering off on his own. Just in case there was something more than a left-over presence here.

“Mr Waalturs, if you’d follow me. Mr Briggs, I need you lurking in a position you can quickly respond if anyone gives a shout.”

Assuming that Waalturs was on his heel, Iasitas moved out of the building and into the clearing surrounding it.

“We’re going to see if there are any buildings related to this structure. Store rooms, work sheds and the like.” Iasitas scratched at his chin. “After all, people don’t just build things like that on their own.”

[Hittanryan]

As the seconds went by after Zoe fell unconscious, Rob realized the rest of the team was likely in no danger. He looked to either flank for Briggs, who was nowhere to be found. Bewildered, he looked back, and Briggs was idly standing by where he left him. 'What the...' he thought, 'Nice reflexes Quick-Draw, sure hope I don't go down if you're the only one watching. Great, so if we had been in danger, I would've been pretty much alone with my ass hanging out here.' Briggs may have caught the slightest hint of an annoyed glance from Rob. And of course Iasitas admonished him for running off on his own...

Not long after, Zoe came to and dropped the innocent kid facade, coping mechanism, whatever. Rob abruptly lost any doubts as to why the Organization made her part of the team. As long as the other personality manifested under pressure reliably, she wouldn't be a liability if things got worse, creepiness aside. She may have even just discovered a lead. They now had a name: Galloway. How he fit into the whole business was anybody's guess, but an investigation has to start somewhere. It's all about connections. Rob holstered his weapon and relaxed a bit.

The discussion continued, Iasitas mentioned continuing the investigation tomorrow. If Zoe's vision and the Metal Man's initial scans were anything to go by, the stuff above ground could just be the tip of the iceberg. As Rob walked into the burnt out foundation, looking for any additional evidence, he added "If I recall, Leon said there was a basement with no apparent entrances. Tomorrow someone should probabLY--"

The final syllable was loudly accentuated as Rob put his foot through one of the floorboards. As if he'd just broken through thin ice, he instinctively pulled it back up, only for his other foot to break through thanks to the sudden shift in weight. He managed to land on both feet again, then improbably jumped out of the widening hole for a few seconds. A support beam below must have rotted out on the level below, however, the rest of the floor collapsed in on itself, and Rob went with it, all the way to the basement.

A little sore but otherwise none the worse for wear, Rob gingerly picked himself up off the debris pile after the mild shock wore off, careful not to step on any nails. Annoyed, he muttered, "Ugh, death by irony. What is this, the Three Stooges Join the Men In Black?" He picked himself off the floor, assured the others he was all right, and was about to take up Metal Man's offer of a rope until Jerico crashed down next to him. Iasitas' order to have a look around sounded downright annoyed, unsurprisingly. 'Good, follow my example of going off on your own,' Rob thought as Jerico started poking around. For his part, Rob produced an LED flashlight from his pack and carefully took in his surroundings. Best not to cause another cave-in.

'If a fucking load-bearing support beam gave way under the weight of one man,' Rob thought, 'Then I don't see how any present-day cult could be using this place. Or maybe they tried and got killed in a cave-in.' That would be amusing, the big scary death cult having the ceiling collapse on them mid-ritual. Rob started to have a look around but the dust was still settling. It was an old-style basement with a low ceiling, looked like a field-stone foundation. For such an isolated structure in the woods, someone had put an awful lot of trouble into its construction. Why bother with the bricks? Why not use the lumber surrounding them on all sides instead of hauling in bricks conspicuously? Did the cult expect to have to defend against attackers? He saw Jerico poking around to one side, and Rob took the other. Getting a late start, he asked, "What do you see, Jerico?"

[Kazomal]

The three investigators examined the room, disturbing the occasional raccoon or rat. It was much like the room above them, except that it looked as though it had received less damage from the flames.

As they sift through the rubble, they come across a metal strongbox that seemed to have survived the years in one piece. The lock is weak from rust, and the box looks like it would yield easily to anyone who wishes to, er, pry.

[Hittanryan]

As the dust settled, the three in the basement quickly noticed one particular object of interest. It appeared to be some kind of old metal...trunk, or something akin to a safe that looked largely intact. Whatever it was, it looked old. Opening it would not be a problem, the question, naturally, was whether that was a good idea or not. While Jerico and the Metal Man went to get a better look, Rob made his way back to his impromptu trapdoor and shouted back up to the Team Leader.

"Iasitas, got something down here. Old chest of some kind, flimsy-looking lock on it. Your call."

[SF n F]

Of course, the Metal Man scanned it in the X-Ray and ultraviolet spectra. With these, he had a chance of learning something about the box's contents and the state of the lock. The lock turned out to be in bad shape, its internal workings rusted almost solid.

He had set down gently and returned to completely human form. Others seemed to have their own light sources, so he opted to conserve his heavy-hydrogen fuel cells.

"I recommend that we treat it as a potential bomb," he said. "At the least, we should have Waalturs check it out for warding before we attempt to open it. The lock won't pose a problem for my plasma torch, but it's too far gone to pick. We won't be able to lock it after we unlock it."

It was then that Rob chose to ask Iasitus for permission.

[Brays Bastards]

Jerico tugged the tomahawk out of the sheath on his belt, before kneeling to inspect the box and look for traps. The last thing they needed was to lift the box and trigger a pressure plate, or at the very worst, release the safety spoon on a trapped grenade. Damned Viet Cong loved that particular trick because it was easy to set and damn near impossible to defuse...

"Other than this box, I don't see a damn thing of interest. If you'll allow me, I've brought my own pick..."

He flashed a quick grin as he hefted the well-worn implement of war...

"It looks pretty well un-trapped, but one can never be sure. One good swing..."

The war-hatchet sparked as it met the rusty iron of the lock. It did it's job, however, and the lock landed on the dirty wooden floor with a dull thud.

Up above, Danny simply nodded in response to Iasitas' request. He'd remain in place and pull security. Not the most glamorous thing in the world to do, but one he was familiar with...

"Waiting for permission isn't a thing you're big on, is it?"

Jerico ignored the chiding of his younger counterpart. There was no point in not opening the box, so one might as well see what was inside. With a deft flick of the flat of the tomahawk's blade, the iron lid flipped open and the box's contents were laid bare...

[The Fanboyists]

Quickly enough, it became fairly clear that Rob hadn't been harmed, and I became superfluous around the hole once Jerico hopped in with a level of fluidity and grace I wouldn't have expected from most people younger than him, much less at his relatively older age. I backed up, leaving the team down there to work and giving Leon room to help them back up when necessary. Of course, when they called for me to look at the chest, I sighed. I was uninclined to go down there, worried I'd have trouble getting back out. I focused, pulled open my Sight, and gave the box a look. No energies were flowing around it, indicating it was unwarded. I gave them a thumbs-up. All clear.

As it was, Iasitas called me over. I strode over quickly, not out of any particular sense of urgency, but more because I walk fast. I was at his hip pretty quickly. I take long strides. Oh, and I work out. Get on my level.

"Agreed. Like I said, I'm starting to think this ain't a temple, personally, but odds are, there was probably a complex...now if I were an auxiliary structure, where would I hide?" I trailed off, muttering to myself. I'll admit I wasn't classically trained, but I'd done more than my fair share of reading on anthropology. "If we want to find out about who occupied the site, we should probably look for a trash-heap, too, sir. You can tell a lot about someone from their trash." I looked around, thinking about what other structures we should be looking for.

I took a glance around at the forest. It was an old hardwood forest, the kind you see the scared teenagers running through in all those horror movies. Not that you can actually do that; forests are all roots and uneven ground, and are a real bitch to even hike through, much less attempt running. Whoever had built the structure(s) out here would have needed some solid logistical support to have done it. No way had it gone unrecorded or unnoticed. Perhaps a look in archives of business records for bricks and transport and such would be worth a shot when we got back. There was likely a paper-trail somewhere.

"Anything you think I should be on the look-out for, boss-man?" I asked, sticking close to the team leader.

[Kazomal]

The Metal Man's scans revealed that the inside of the box was filled with smaller boxes, a rifle, and a pair of handguns.

No traps were found in the immediate area, which was good, because at that moment, Jerico pried the box open with his tomahawk.

The box popped open, and inside were contained Contained within are a Lee-Einfield Mk. III SMLE and a box of 10 magazines (inspection and consolidation reveals that an even 8 mags worth of ammo survived), a Smith and Wesson Model 1917 revolver with a box of 50 bullets (examination shows that 28 survived the years and are reasonably likely to fire properly), reading material (magazines and comic books- http://www.flickr.com/photos/69534746@N ... /lightbox/), a ruby pistol with a box of 10 magazines (inspection and consolidation reveals that an even 6 mag worth of ammo survived), and two sets of documents marked “Domestic Security Agency; Department 12,”

The first is somewhat rotted out, but a few pages survived:
Department 12 of the Domestic Security Agency was founded in 1910 (the DSA being founded in 1903), to hunt down and destroy the Oxanian Death Cult, and to root out and end all supernatural threats towards the people and nation of Oxana. (Anyone who did some cursory research on Oxana knows that the DSA encompasses what Americans would call the FBI, DEA, ATF, ICE, etc.)

The Oxanian Death Cult, believed to have gone extinct in the mid 1800s, was rediscovered in 1910 when DSA agents, working with local police, raided a cult function in their pursuit of a smuggling ring operating out of the port city of Naga. From this encounter, the DSA team learned of the true supernatural powers possessed by the cultists, and the existence of magic. The discovery was kept within the unit, and their commanders and handlers up the chain of command took it straight to the President of the Republic of Oxana (POTRO). By executive authority, Department 12 was secretly created in order to combat the newly discovered supernatural threat.

This structure was a safehouse and way station used by Dept. 12 agents hunting down Death Cultists in the Northwestern Forrest, and the swamps to the west.

No date is found on this.

The second looks like a report on some sort of raid. Further reading reveals that is a Department 12 report on a raid conducted on an Death Cult function in the island’s southernmost city of Augustus. From the sounds of the report, it was a lethal blow for the Cult, with hundreds of cultists either killed or captured. It notes that in the months since, Death Cult activity has dropped off tremendously. The report is dated November 12, 1928.

[Brays Bastards]

Jerico was quick to remove the weaponry from the box, cycling the bolt on the rifle to make sure it was unloaded before setting it aside. The revolver was a classic M1917 Smith and Wesson, and still loaded. St. Croix stuffed it into the small of his back in the waistband of his pants. The 'Ruby' pistol was something he'd not seen before, so he left it in the box. The documents also seemed pretty old, so he left them alone as well, worried they'd dissolve under his touch...

"We seem to have found a weapon stash of some kind. Lee-Enfield, S&W 1917, and some manner of semi-auto of domestic manufacture. Plenty of ammo, too, although not all of it is still in good condition. The cordite seems to have been water-logged in a few of them, judging by the swollen cases. We've got some documents as well... Leon? If you would snake an arm down here, we'll pass the box on up to you for you to examine with your unique talents. Danny, see if you can raise Iasitas on the comms..."

Danny snorted at being ordered about by the old man, but complied...

"Team lead, this is Detachment One. We've found a clue, over..."

[SF n F]

Fortunately, the Metal Man was able to read the legible parts of the document in their entirety without actually touching it. It was a simple matter of focused thermal imaging.

"Read the booklets," he said to no one in particular. "We've got our evidence of supernatural forces. The stuff is eighty years old, and it's not much of a trail, but..." and he told them about the POTROO

OOC: note the more consistent acronym.

IC: and the Secret Service and the raids.

"The trail's probably long since gone cold, but it looks like we've got more places to check out. Specifically, the cities of Naga and Agustus. Both had Death Cult activity in the 1920's."

[Hittanryan]

No sooner had Rob asked Iasitas for orders than he heard a sharp impact, the sound of metal on metal. "...or not." Jerico had busted the lock off with a tomahawk without so much as asking for orders. He even started rummaging through the damn thing, pulling out several firearms. Mercifully, the merc stopped before destroying the frail-looking documents.

Rob made his way over to the chest and shined his light inside. He glanced at the cover page while waiting for further orders. It was a bit hard to make out, but he could see the insignia of the Oxanian DSA clearly enough. Based on the title, this first document was apparently a report dealing with an investigation into the Death Cult in 1910. "Look at the date," he pointed out before extrapolating, "Brantford claimed the Death Cult persisted into the 20th century, while most other sources put their death in the mid-1800s."

Shortly afterwards, the Metal Man gave his summary of the documents. 'Being able to read through wet, rotten paper must be fairly convenient in this line of work,' Rob thought.

[Tagmatium]

“What are we looking for?” Iasitas said, rephrasing Waalturs’ question. “Well, considering we’re in a forest and there won’t have been much in the way of undergrowth, the brick structures should have survived ok.

“Same with wood, if the main building is anything to go by,” he gestured over his shoulder towards the main building.

At which point, his radio burst into live, making him jump slightly.

Perhaps this place is getting to me a bit, Iasitas thought as he unhooked it from his belt.

“Detachment one, this is team lead,” he replied, aping Danny’s call structure. “I’ll be over there shortly, over.”

He turned back to Waalturs, giving him a thoughtful look. Eh, the man was a wizard, after all and if he couldn’t magic something into a pile of dust, he did have a large-calibre revolver he could just blast whatever it was away with lead.

“Right, Mr Waalturs, keep looking. If you see anything dodgey, leave it where it is, don’t go into it and come back to the main building.”

Leaving the wizard where he was, the Tagmatine jogged back across the clearing and back into the main building. He gave Briggs a nod as he entered and went to stand at the edge of the hole Rob had made, looking down into the pit where the Metal Man, Rob and Jerico were all gathered around a box.

“Found something down there, have you?” he looked down into the pool of torchlight that the box was in. He could see what looked like a sheaf of old papers and some firearms. What looked like a semi-automatic of antiquated design and an old bolt-action rifle. Some nice museum pieces they’d found themselves. “Be careful with that lot, especially the paper. If it’s as old as it looks, it’ll be pretty fragile.”

In a way, he was feeling fairly please. The papers could be something that Brantford could elaborate on. They didn’t need the guns, though. Most people in the team had at least one firearm on them, Rob and Danny having more than the rest of the team put together. Iasitas really wouldn’t trust those ancient guns and wouldn’t have recommended any of the rest of the team using them.

If anything went wrong, the first report he would have to make to Miranda wouldn’t be that good.

Ms Summerfield, this is Iasitas reporting in as ordered. How are the team? Doing fine, except one of them decided to play with a firearm dating back from the 1930s. Oh, yeah, we found most of his fingers…

“Can you bring that box up here?”

[SF n F]

With a smile and a grumble, the Metal Man wrapped himself--quite literally--around the box and levitated to Iasitus, taking only enough time to change his face to the Proverbial English Butler.

"Your package, sir," he said with that voice, taking the chest out of his chest. "Now, you can be sure that you have one."

[The Fanboyists]

I shrugged at the order. It wasn't anything I couldn't handle, I figured. Wood might not have been preserved as much as Our Dear Leader thought, as it tended to rot rather quickly, especially in a damp forest setting such as the one I found myself in. At the very least, what was left would be very fragile, and so likely would either have already collapsed or would be on the verge of it.

I moved a little further into the forest searching about close to the ground, wondering what else I might find.

[Kazomal]

Surveying the sight yielded only an apparent outhouse, little more than shallow holes in the ground by this point, and a lug nut or two, throughly rusted and aged, of the type which might secure a tire.

Metal Man, however, with his enhanced senses and time spent in the forests over his long life, was able to make out the remnants of a wide path, several decades overgrown, extending north, where there are no trees older than approximately 50 years for as far as his scanners can reach. Waalturs can confirm very old psychic imprints along this path.

The light was beginning to fade, and the forrest became more restless, as the animals ended their days, or got ready to begin their nights.

[Hittanryan]

Emerging from his little rabbit hole (and taking great care once back on the rotten floorboards), Rob immediately noticed that the light was beginning to fade. What with all the distractions, the team had never managed to make camp. If they were to do it right, a bit of daylight would be immensely helpful. Furthermore, attempting to continue the search in the dark would be fruitless. From what Metal Man summed up, the documents identified this building as a safehouse for Oxanian g-men. None of the others had any luck locating much by way of any other structures, besides than the head, that is.

His previous standing order unfulfilled, Rob offered to finally get it done, still unaware of the overgrown path to the north. "Team Leader, Glenn here. Never did secure a campsite. With your permission, I'd like to get at least a couple of us over there before dark. There's a few things we should do, gather firewood, lay down a few tarps, secure our food, basic stuff that would be easier with a bit of light still in the sky. We'll continue the investigation tomorrow, like you said." Unless he 'found' any other secret entrances, Rob wasn't doing much good here at the moment.

[Brays Bastards]

Jerico emerged from the hole, a grim look on his features...

"Nothing we didn't know before. Did find a nice piece, however..."

Danny snorted again, unimpressed by vintage hardware...

"Woo hoo. Fuck your new toy..."

"Young people these days... No appreciation for the cool stuff of old..."

[SF n F]

Of course, Iasitas had tried to give the cyborg unpleasant labors in response to his comments. Of course, they had turned out not to be as strenuous as intended.

"If anyone was holding religious ceremonies around here," the Metal Man commented as he dumped more wood than a man should be allowed to carry onto the pile, "they certainly know how to cover their tracks." He was less concerned for the group's safety now, and more for the investigation. It would save time and fuel not to drive back, so that was actually a blessing in disguise.

Having seen enough to believe that the party wasn't being too closely watched, the cyborg had allowed the others to see his plasma torches in action, as he found a dead tree that was still standing nearby and sliced it neatly for them with his shoulder-mount beams. Someone had asked, and he explained that it would not endanger the surrounding wildlife because, at the setting he was using them, it was only at the intersection of the two beams that they were capable of doing damage. The mercenaries had gotten funny looks in their eyes as they realized that he wasn't as poorly armed as they thought he had been, but no one complained about something that could slice up a tree faster than a chain saw. They were starting to get used to the way that the cyborg found uses for things that the things might not have been made for.

While he was at it, he took another tree trunk and shaved grooves in it at regular intervals--a makeshift ladder for getting in and out of the basement, when it became necessary in the morning. It wasn't the usual methodology, but it was hard to argue with the results.

[Tagmatium]

The Metal Man’s attitude niggled at Iasitas, but he realised it was more to with the fact that he himself was used to having underlings jump at virtually every command. Still, Waalturs hadn’t seemed particularly happy with him when he’d called him over. It was probably reaching a point when he’d be forced to try to clear the air with those two, try to confront the issues they had with him, lest they got in the way of this investigation. Briggs, Danny and Jerico seemed to have at least a bit more professionalism in their attitudes.

Once he’d set the box on a tree stump – damn, it was a lot heavier that the Metal Man made it look – he gave a cautious thumb-through of the papers. The Tagmatine gingerly moved the firearms aside, propping them against the side of the tree stump. The papers were definitely interesting, but the secret policeman wanted to keep the handling of them down to a minimum. The latest date he could see was 1928, presumably the commonly used Anno Domini. So that would mean the papers were written – Iasitas did some mental maths – in Etos Kosmou 7436. So that would mean they were written about 84 years ago. Brantford would love these – if he could be trusted with them.

He thumbed through the papers a bit more, before replacing them in the box and setting it down beside the tree stump. The Thermos flask was retrieved from where he’d dropped it before. Iasitas decanted himself another cup of tea and sat sipping at it for a while, staring off into space. After a while, he fished out a cigar and lit it from a branch that was smouldering due to the plasma beams of the Metal Man.

“From the looks of what’s written in those documents, Leon, probably no-one ever had conducted Death Cult ceremonies here, at least not regularly. This was no temple,” said Iasitas. He drew on his cigar and let out a plume of smoke. “This place was probably an Oxanian government safe-house, founded for those who were to combat the Death Cult itself.

“I say this because this place just seems to have desks, cots, guns and documents.” He took another sip of tea, still looking at the Metal man. “I’ve sent Mr Waalturs to check on whether there are any outbuildings in the area. Considering he’s not come running back here nor we have heard gunshots, he’s either yet to or he’s not going to find anything of interest.”

For a moment he drew at his cigar and thumbed through his notes. “Which does raise the question as to why the people mentioned by Zoe were carrying out a sacrifice. Agents acting beyond their remit, perhaps, trying to tap into what their enemies were using? I can’t see that question resolving itself right now.”

He took another sip of tea from his plastic cup, made a face because he decided it was too cold and up-ended the remnants into the grass that was growing beside the tree stump. After screwing the cup back into place on the Thermos, Iasitas stood up and walked back over to the entrance of the presumed safe house.

“Mr Briggs, Mr Glenn, if you could set up that camp right now, I’d be grateful. Light’s dying up here. And the last thing I want to do is be setting up camp near this place in the dark.”

Iasitas stubbed the remains of his cigar out against his boot heel. He wanted to have a look in the basement, not that he doubted that Rob or Jerico been anything other than thorough when they searched the basement. He was looking to see if there was anything that could justify the weird feelings that had overcome Zoe and what had seemed to hit Waalturs as well. An area of easily drained concrete, readily hosed clean, perhaps. From experience, he knew what to look for. But it was something that could wait until morning.