| Logs |
2002 March 09
| Cosmic Guardians |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
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| Realms: Guardians Logs |
Background RP - Reynard - Part 4
More Than He Can Chew: Reynard’s StoryPart 4:Tales and Traps
A short while later, Holmes comes back with two subs, and hands one to Reynard. Lillian has apparently decided to take a nap in one of the bedrooms. He also gets two plates, and puts them on the coffee table. Unwrapping his sub, which appears to be ham and cheese, he takes a bite of one half, and then sets it down. "Where to begin...."
Reynard had actually requested grilled chicken. A dab of spicy sauce, a bit of lettuce, and he's all ready to go. "Well," he offers, gazing over at the professor, "Some generally think it's best...at the beginning." A wink. "But, seriously... What're you and your fellows wanting to do? In a short term, not long term basis."
Holmes smiles. "Honestly, I'm not sure I can start at the beginning...seeing as I don't know what that was. The first thing you must understand is that the Unearthed Alliance takes its secrets very seriously. No one knows who everyone in the organization is. No one knows all of it's safehouses - called Lodges in the organization. No one even knows all it's history...except the Founders. Even the Founders themslves are steeped in mystery...some say they retired, some say they moved on to another plane of existence...some even say they work amongst us, secretly, pretending to be Alliance information brokers or field agents."
Holmes took another bite of his sub, looking thoughtful. He has his glasses on again, which make him a little difficult to read...not that he's that much easier to read with completely white eyes. "As far as the Arachne are concerned...our immediate goal is to stop them from assasinating their target. Beyond that...we don't know. We still don't know all the details of what they intend."
Reynard chuckles wryly. "Sorry about that, didn't mean to interrupt your spying." He offers, and takes a bite of his own sandwitch. Properly disposing of the mouthful, "I guess I sort've incenerated those papers. Too bad they didn't offer a name." A tilt of his head. "Out of curiousity...are you wanting me to help? What can I do to aid?"
Holmes spreads his hands. "You know your target better than us, Reynard. When it comes time to foil Mr. Kranston, we hope to have you on hand. That is our immediate goal as far as you are concerned."
Reynard simply stares at the teacher. "You're suggesting... Kranston is alive? I blew the bastard up! The police found Kranston decorating the place. How...in the hell is he still mobile?"
Holmes arches an eyebrow. "I never said he was mobile. But he was not killed in the blast, nor was anyone else. The Arachne, unfortunately, had the advantage of having wards against metal....you should have used an incendiary instead. He was still conscious afterwards, however, and the Arachne retreated with his body.
Reynard sits back in his seat, sandwitch left unattended in his plate. "Ah...hah... Well, you're going to need me, then. Allright..." A pause. "Do you have access to a tank?"
Holmes offers that mild chuckle. "I don't think it will take that much firepower, Reynard...even if we had access to it. Ghouls can be killed. It's just important to remember that they can shrug off wounds that would incapacitate or kill a normal human. Hell, if you were able to stick around, you could have easily killed him...he would not have been able to stop you."
Reynard shakes his head. "A grenade going off at his hip... You'd think that would surely drop him." He rubs his chin. "Well, I imagine that I'd be a very useful distraction. Kranston would likely go off the handle, at the sight of me. I likely put a hamper on his love life, for a while..." Apparently, 'ghouls' can grow things back. Well, hopefully, it'd take him a while. he thinks internally. Aloud, he adds, "Either way, it's going to take something big to put him down. Another grenade, or something messier." Opening his jacket, a tsk. "All I have on me, this second, is a Splat. I don't generally carry high explosives on me; though, I have a 'hole' here in Boston."
Holmes chews some more of half his sub, nearly finishing it. "Hopefully, a grenade will not be required. The warehouse was a safe enough place to use one...but we won't be able to in the event we encounter him in a public area. At best, it would attract to much attention, at worst, innocents could be hurt. Though attention could be just as detrimental as lives lost." He thinks a moment. "We should have a little time, though. Ghouls need raw meat to live and to regenerate...from the description Lillian gave, he'll probably need a great deal of it. We'll need that time, though, to figure out both the significance of Kranston's target...and when he might try to do the deed."
Reynard continues on his sandwitch. A nod. "True. I don't want any bystandards caught in the crossfire, in the process. A splat, mayhap, is the best course. Immobilize and take down." Wiping a little sauce from his chin, considering. "Are there any political big boys rolling into town, right now? Unless Kurt is heading out of Boston, which I doubt, since he was called here. Likely anyone who's coming in could be a target; senator, congressman, anyone in a high chair of the goverment. If it's a rich businessman, though..." A shrug.
Holmes tilts his head. "Actually, we know exactly who Kranston was hired to hit. Lillian didn't get a good look at the file, but she got a name: General Phillip Henry Langton. Whoever that is. Tyco is an ex-Ranger and even he has never heard of him."
Reynard nods his head. Dimmer can likely scrape the dirt off this man in a sterilized room. "I know a computer snooper or two, to get on the trail, if you like. I'd need to make a phone call." He tilts his head in thought. "So, we're to find out when he will attempt it." Rubbing his chin. "And where. Generally, Kranston prefers a perch. Even if he's a brutal lout, he likes the satisfaction of popping someone, usually in broad daylight, and watch people panic all around. And, due to his dislike for police, he'll do it from a good distance."
Holmes nods approvingly. "That'll be useful once we have an idea where and when this general will be showing up. We already have a query in to the Minotaur as to the identity of this fellow. Is there any worry that Kranston would care if he took out non-targets in the process? Like, explosives, or grenades?"
Reynard sits back, trying to remember. "Kranston likes guns. They're effective. He likes to feel like a big man. Throwing a grenade and running is cowardness, to him. Besides, with an explosion, you can never be sure you got 'em til you see the body." He makes a gesture, as if to indicate the very situation in the warehouse. "It's possible, though; this Arachne could've requested a specific manner of death. But, generally, he prefers to take shots. Messy ones, too. And often likes those jagged shells; the ones that saw through body armor. But, then again, he usually goes for head shots."
Holmes looks relived. "That's actually good news. Tyco has limited experience in demolitions....and my own electronics skills are not up to par when dealing with bombs."
Reynard gives a nod, and nearly finishes his own meal. "Another thing. Will he have guards? Anyone trying to protect him? These Arachne seemed serious."
Holmes blinks. "You think the Arachne would provide bodyguards for Kranston?" Reynard nods. "Right. Just in case." Holmes looks doubtful. "If he were an Arachne operative, I would err on the side of yes. But the fact that they hired outside talent implies they don't want this traced back to the Arachne. Besides, would Kranston want bodyguards?"
Reynard considers that. "Ok, point. They don't want it tracked back to them, thus they wouldn't have anyone tracible on the scene." He shrugs. "My mistake. Paranoid; I don't want him to slip out of this one, again..." He shudders. "That 'priestess' disturbed me; I don't want to deal with that again..."
Holmes frowns, tapping his lips. "Do you think it likely she might try to find you, personally? She seemed quite put out with you...." Reynard shrugs. "You know these people better than I do. Are they the type to hunt down an accident? I think all I did was just piss her off."
"I'm not the expert on the Arachne...and I know even less about what individuals would do. However, she might think you would be a threat to their plans, keep in mind..."
Reynard watches Holmes for a minute. "Then, what would you suggest? I relocate? I was boarding up in a hotel... Where would you suggest I go?" A gnaw on his lower lip. "Ok, let's recap. What is it we, and I, need to do, before the attempted assassination?"
Holmes finishishes a bite of his sandwich before replying. "I think it would be wise that you dissapear from the public a while. Get a new place that has the resources for you to make the inquiries you want. If we find out something, we contact you. If you find out something, you contact us.
Reynard finishes the last bit, nodding as he downs it with some Coke. "Fair enough. Is there a number I can reach you at?"
Holmes pulls a pad from a nightstand, and writes something on it. "This is Tyco's cellphone. It shouldn't be able to be traced easily, if at all." he says, handing the bounty hunter a scrap of paper with the number on it.
Reynard takes it, and slips it into his pocket. "Good. I'll leave a message, with a number reachable for me. I would give you my answering service number, but I doubt that's wise."
Holmes nods approvingly. "Just because you're paranoid, doesn't mean someone isn't out to get you." he says with a half smile. "Did you have further questions?"
Reynard returns the expression. "No, I'm well enogh. Let me know if anything turns up. Good luck." A pause. "Is there anywhere I can get some reading, on all of this? The UA, or...Ghouls, and whatnot?
Holmes shakes his head. "The Alliance is not in the habit of having anything written down about them, Reynard. I suggest if you have questions on that score, you ask someone who knows. The same goes for most other important things: any information you can find for yourself that is not directly from another person is likely to be either partially or wholely wrong."
Reynard spreads his hands. "Just wanting to do my homework." Holmes nods, his face an undreadable mask once more. "Understood. We'll be in touch, Mr. McCarter."
After leaving The Third Eye, Reynard intents on checking out of his current hotel, to find a new one, and hopefully keep a low profile. Of course, first, he's going to check up on Kranston's car. As he pulls into the side street where Kranston's car was located, however, he's greeted by....a car that isn't Kranston's.
Reynard grumbles. "Missed him..." And pauses. He still has Kranston's spark plugs. Parking his bike, the hunter moves into the building closest to the parking spot, looking for someone with a window desk. On one side, the building is just sheer brickface, but the side of the street where Kranston's car was has a small restaurant called The Middle East, with windows facing the street.
Reynard, deciding that's the best place to ask, slips inside, looking for a clerk. A hostess looks up and comes over to greet Reynard. "Can I help you sir?" she says brightly. Returning with a bright smile, he points out the front window, toward Kranston's vacated spot. "There was a Black Mercedes there, earlier. Do you know if it was recently towed?"
The hostess grimaces. "Yeah, actually...the managers noticed it was there late last night... and after it racked up two tickets, and it was blocking a delivery truck, Sammy called to have it taken away. I'm sorry, sir, was it your car? Do you want the towing company address?"
Reynard shakes his head, a smile. "No, I just noticed it. It had an oil leak; I wanted to tell the owner, but when I returned from lunch, the car was gone. I was curious." The hostess make an 'ah' face and nods. "Anything else I can help you with sir?"
Reynard shakes his head. "Not really, no... Wait, might I use your phone?"
"Sure! Down in the back, by the restrooms, sir."
A nod and a thank you later, Reynard is feeding the payphone. Once more, he calls up the hacker, and hopes he doesn't owe Dimmer anything more, just yet. The call is actually picked up on the second ring. "Twice in one day. Least you're still alive." Dimmer growls in greeting.
Reynar smirks. "Listen, I'm giving you a break. Forget the Arachne stuff. I need information on a name. General Phillip Henry Langton. Supposed to be in Boston, soon. Can you get me any info on him? Dry stuff, dirt, whatever?"
Dimmer clucks his tongue on the other end. "Yeah, I'll see what I can do...name doesn't ring a bell off the top of my head, but military should be easier to find, even if he's not high profile."
"Right. You know how to reach me. But, I need it a little sooner then normal. Something's going down."
"Not a problem, dude. I'm on my third coffee. I'm hyped and raring to go. Should have something in a few hours. Till then, stay away from the spiders, hear?"
Reynard nods. "Right. Be safe, computer diver." With that, he hangs up, and heads back to his hotel, to get his things.
Reynard put himself up in the Doubletree Hotel, a nice tower hotel that towers above the Charles River, and is only a short distance away from Central Square. He parks the bike in the parking lot and waltzes in through the doors, heading towards the elevator. Stopping at the doors, the hounter gives but a glance around, looking for any watchful women. Paticularly, those in spider earings. ALthough he's none too concerned, it still helps to be a dash paranoid. Reaching the elevator, he taps the key for the sixth floor.
The elevator proceeds up relatively smoothly, and opens on the sixth floor. Reynard, remembering his room is down the hall, and to a right, the hunter sets forth, making his way toward the bend. Jamming the passcard into the lock, Reynard opens the door...and just as he does, he notes a quiet sound. A slight... hiss. In noticing this, he also notes something else. The room is dark, but he knows he didn't shut the shades into his room. Immediately, he shuts the door.
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