This thread: dcltdw shumashi mijven merastra izmirian betaphen
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The dizziness hits him in waves, the lights fading and shifting redder, he stumbles slightly and leans back against the wall. He sees her now, dressed in a lavender cotton blouse and beige pants walking to the empty table. The woman who had called herself Jessica. She is younger now than she has been in many years, and her hair is strangely brown, not the typical red that she always favored for dangerous "activities". She reaches under the table and pulls out a sheet of paper, smiling at the small words written on it. He strains to read through the time fog but the vision blurs and shifts, squirming almost as if to avoid his gaze. "Operation cobra_money" ... no, probably not. He grasps the twenty strongly between his fingers but vision races onwards.
Jessica is standing now to leave, taking the glass of ricedog
from the table and carefully placing it in a bag, obviously mindful that one of the old ones may be following her and unwilling to leave behind items useful for aura tracing. But then she casually flicks the twenty out onto the table. This confuses him. Is she just being careless, assuming the waiter will take the twenty, leaving no one else to find it, or is she even more clever, leaving the twenty as a trap. His hands grow more sweaty, clenching the twenty.
He remembers the darts poisoned with betaphen
, and the disorienting feeling after waking up hours later on the cold floor. He drops the twenty. She is on to him, though whether it is just a warning or a trap is not so clear. The roar of the time vision fades from his head, the lights regaining their clarity and the distorted angles and colors snapping back to normality. Solving this will clearly require a different approach, if he doesn't want to end up unconscious on the floor once again, like he did so many, many years ago.
He walks across the coffee shop to the table where Jessica had been. It is an old wooden table with knotted, cracked oaken boards held together from underneath. He slowly bends down on his knees and looks up at the table from underneath. If the others are following her with their gadgets and newfangled electronic firstfrost
, there certainly will be a bug or two concealed under here. Ahh yes, the faint aura trace guides his fingers and he pulls the small silver rectangle from between the boards. Squeezing it tightly between his fingers he concentrates and the dizziness hits him, knocking him almost completely prone.
There she is, the girl with her computer equipment stacked on the table, testing her bug, "testing, one, two, three. Ok, we are totally configured for maximum audio fidelity". And now the girl is moving her equipment into the back, with the young waiter helping her, and a familiar figure looking on, occasionally giving instructions. Franklin. Now that would provide a much more fruitful and certainly less dangerous avenue of investigation.