A Clandestine Encounter (IC)

[Avenger Assembled]

"Okay, fine. I wanted to see if she was really your friend, so I wanted to see if I could manipulate her into kissing me if I told her a sob story about how dark and angsty my life was. It was pretty good, too, but I think it spooked her. So she's got more sense than I gave her credit for, you know?" He caught the look in her eye and added, "So really, I learned my lesson there already....?"

[alderwitch]

"You... you.... ooooh!" Taylor's outline blurred just as one of the endtables behind her went whipping through her intangible body to launch itself at Jack followed by anything else Taylor could get her mental hands on. Rather than splintering if they missed against a wall or two, Taylor caught them and sent them back at Jack. She wasn't risking waking the baby unless it was with bludgeoning her husband. "You. Tried. To. Get. A. Kiss?! Jack, I'm going to kill you!"

[Avenger Assembled]

"Honey that's the Louis XIV!" he called, catching the end table whipped his way as his wife unleashed her wrath. "It didn't mean anything! It was just to see if she really liked and respected you! And she did! Nothing even happened, and it wouldn't have mattered if it did!" He ducked behind a corner, vaguely conscious of the dire faces of the ghosts watching from the shadows. "C'mon, honey, it was just a thing."

[alderwitch]

"Wouldn't have mattered if it did?! Of course it would have mattered! You idiot!" Taylor's voice raised at the end, sharp enough to startle the baby into a soft snort in the other room. Taylor muttered something rude under her breath before holding utterly still while she waited for him to resettle.

When there was no further noises, Taylor airwalked down the hallway like a ghost herself, her frown ferocious. "Just a thing? If I kissed someone... would that be just a 'thing' too?"

[Avenger Assembled]

"Well...I mean, it depended on the circumstances and who you were kissing. I mean if it was Ace, that'd be one thing, but..." He blinked, listened to his words and thoughts. "OK, fine, I should have told you I was trying to see if Grim would kiss me before I did it! And maybe about the head thing, but I swear I thought you knew about that. Jeez, is it just Wesley and I who heard about that?"

[alderwitch]

"Well, not now, it isn't," Taylor huffed as she approached him and floated in front of him like some wrathful poltergeist. "I imagine by now all of the Interceptors know you invited Grim to a graveyard, scared her, and gave her her own severed head. It'll be a wonder if they don't just attack us on sight. Honestly, Jack..."

[Avenger Assembled]

"C'mon, honey, why don't you turn solid again and we can talk about this like civilized people," he suggested, his face all innocence. "It'll be all right. You know how much the Interceptors appreciate practical jokes, right? And I'm sure Grim wouldn't go and do a thing like that. It'll be okay. This was just a little ill-advised. And I really don't think she picked up on...well, the other thing."

[alderwitch]

"You had better hope not, Jack Faretti, or I'm sending you over to apologize. In person. With flowers." Taylor continued to grouse and grumble as her outline grew more distinct despite her unhappy mutterings. Jack's charm had always been one of her week points. She hovered in front of him, still slightly hazy, "Promise me you'll fix this, Jack."

[Avenger Assembled]

"I'll make it better," Jack promised. "But maybe in a couple of days, when her mood's had a chance to settle down. You know how Lynn can be sometimes." He hmmed. "I guess I should have brought the head back with me, but I was hoping maybe she'd have come out to collect it."

[alderwitch]

"Oh, for... you left it. Wait here..." Muttering, Taylor vanished in a 'pop' and was back seconds later with the 'head in a ball' and held it out from herself with a disgusted look on her face. "Oh, ick. That's just gross, honey. I think you've been spending too much time with Dead Head lately. I'll just leave it in the Void for now but I'm not keeping this thing..."

She solidified finally however as she tossed the ball back into the Void, over one shoulder idly. Taylor folded her arms up under her breasts and said immaturely, "Promise me that you'll fix this, Jack. I'll let it go if you actually promise. I know you won't just forget, then."

[Heritage]

The first thing Grim did when she got home was to take a long shower; by the time she was done, she wasn't shaking nearly as badly as she'd been for the last half hour. Wrapped in a fluffy robe, she climbed into Colt's bed and gently shook him awake.

"Honey, you have to wake up. I think Taylor and the baby are in danger...from Jack."

[quotemyname]

"Hmm?" Colt mumbled almost incoherently. "Oh hey there, huneh, whut times't?"

"Honey, you have to wake up. I think Taylor and the baby are in danger...from Jack."

"Aww don' worry yer pretty little head 'bout that." Colt replied, putting an arm around her and pulling her closer to him so they could both get more comfortable. "I reckon on'y mammals eat their young. Jack ain't all bat."

[Heritage]

"I reckon on'y mammals eat their young. Jack ain't all bat."

Lynn shook her her head and laughed mirthlessly. "That's not why I'm worried, Colt; Jack asked me to meet him in the Veteran's Cemetery tonight. But he was acting all weird, like, I dunno, like his emotions were all over the place. And then he laughed, like it was all a big joke, and he gave me-"

Suddenly she burst into tears and wrapped her arms around herself.

"He gave me a head, in a jar. It was my head, Colt; he said that Wesley made it, and it-"

The petite brunette abruptly leaned over the edge of the bed and loudly threw up, luckily into a bucket she instinctively created. Tears were streaming down her face, and her whole body shook.

"Oh God, it was horrible. It had muh-my eyes, but one eyelid was all puh-peeled back, and the muh-mouth was all tw-twisted..."

The memory produced another bout of violent retching.

[quotemyname]

There were very few things in the world that got Colt upset. Being woken up in the dead of night was one of them. Grimalkin was of course the exception to this rule. His room, his bed, his arms, and his life were always open to her. Which was why she was here now. Colt had been happy to receive her and snuggle. But when she jerked out of his arms to retch over the side of the bed, Colt was not amused.

His anger didn't lie with Grimalkin, however. Someone had upset her, and that would not stand. A very cross expression on his face, Colt leaned over and turned the small knob on the bedside lamp. It clicked on, bathing the room in a soft amber light due to the shade.

Colt sat up in bed and moved so that he sat cross-legged beside Grim. He rubbed her back in a circular motion with the heel of his right hand in an attempt to soothe her. He was no masoose, but he was her boyfriend, and he hoped he could help.

"Woah there," Colt spoke to her softly, "Reckon you outta slow down'a mite, Grim. Hold yer horses'n git yerself tagether. Take'a few deep breaths'n then start over. Slowly." Colt considered that, and then reconsidered it. "In fact, why don't ya jus' let me do th' talkin'. Y'all c'n just nod'er shake yer head till ya feel up'ta makin' an explanation."

Jack Jr. already forgotten, Colt decided to start from the beginning, or as near as he could figure was the beginning. "Now, Wesley's yer ex, right?" That got a nod, "He had them life controlin' powers ya told me 'bout?" Another nod. "An ya met wit Jack t'nite?" Nod. "An he - Whoo boy - So Jack shows ya some sorta' voodoo head'n a jar what's been made by Wesley'n't looks like yer's som'in' powerful but it ain't quite right cuz it's all twisted'n deformed'n such?" That gave Grim pause as she pieced it together. Colt had suddenly mastered the art of the run on sentence, and with the addition of his accent it was no easy thing to piece it together.

[Heritage]

"An he - Whoo boy - So Jack shows ya some sorta' voodoo head'n a jar what's been made by Wesley'n't looks like yer's som'in' powerful but it ain't quite right cuz it's all twisted'n deformed'n such?"

The backrub did indeed help; Lynn was shaking a lot less, and the heaving stopped. She conjured up a towel to wipe her face, then turned to face Colt as she did her best to explain, a bit more slowly.

"You don't understand, honey; I'm a shapeshifter, a faerie. There's a difference between making someone look like someone else, and actually, y'know, becoming someone." She raised her finger and shook it vigorously. "That thing, in the jar? Was me, a perfect match." She laughed weakly. "Jack was right about one thing; Wes does excellent work."

She adjusted herself on the bed and grasped her boyfriend's hands.

"The reason is looked the way it did...was because it was floating in a jar of alcohol, Colt. I could smell it, like a something from biology class. A specimen." Lynn shook her head. "It must have been in there for months, from the look of it."

A dry heave hit her, and she nearly lost it again, but she caught herself and swallowed a few times. Holding out her hand, a glass of water appeared, which she drained in one go, after which the glass promptly disappeared. The changeling took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Okay, so if I try to look at this logically and not go all spazzy, Wes must have made this head months ago, out of who or what I do not know, and gave it to Jack. No, wait, Jack said he got it from the 'original owner'...who the hell would want that?"

[quotemyname]

Colt's eyebrows raised, and he put on a quizzical expression given what he had just heard. "No offense, honey. But I reckon y'all got some weird friends!" Colt smiled. It was an attempt to lighten the mood. She was going to need it given the next thing that occured to him.

"Okay, so if I try to look at this logically and not go all spazzy, Wes must have made this head months ago, out of who or what I do not know, and gave it to Jack. No, wait, Jack said he got it from the 'original owner'...who the hell would want that?"

"Now, supposin' he didn't 'get' it so much's 'took' it, on account'a the fact that that there owner weren't able'ta give't? If'n ya catch my meanin'?" Colt grimaced, hoping what he was implying wouldn't upset her stomach more than it already was. Unfortunately, if he was going to help her, he needed to figure out exactly what was going on.

[Heritage]

"Now, supposin' he didn't 'get' it so much's 'took' it, on account'a the fact that that there owner weren't able'ta give't? If'n ya catch my meanin'?"

Lynn leaned back and made a horrified face. "Like he took it off...their neck? Eww, God, I hope not! Wait, he said it was a 'he', the previous owner was male...although, I guess...anything's possible..."

She shook her head. "Y'know what, I'm just gonna call Wes right now, I don't care what time it is. We'll clear this up right away." She grabbed her cellphone and scanned through her Contacts. "Haven't used this number in a while..."

"Hi Wes, it's Lynn, Epstein. Look, I'm sorry to call you so late, but I need to ask you about a certain head in a jar. Know what I'm talkin' about here?" Her tone was flippant on the surface, but there was a definite edge to her voice as well.

[Sandman XI]

Wesley was settling down after a night of doing the rounds. A non-busy night is a good night indeed. He stumbled towards his bed with a zombie gait, kicking off his shoes, taking off his shirt and dropping his pants in succession. His boxers is what he slept in! Centurion boxers. He fell into the sweet oblivion of sleep. A few minutes later his phone rang and rang and rang until the fourth ring where he finally decided to pick it up. This better be important, he thought. Oh God, it's a voice I haven't heard in forever. "Hey Lynn," he said dreamily. Lynn's voice was hiding something, though it didn't take less than a second to figure it out "Head in a jar? Head in a jar..." he let the thought roll in his mind for a second. Then he remembered. Months ago. Avenger beheading her. Well not her, but... it was her. He sat up and pinched himself to find out if this was going to turn into one of those ugly nightmares. No, it was very real. "Uh, Lynn, there's something I have to tell you. Can we meet somewhere?"

[Heritage]

"Uh, Lynn, there's something I have to tell you. Can we meet somewhere?"

In an instant, Lynn leaped to her feet, face twisted with disgust. "Oh my God, you did make it! You sick sunuva- Hell yeah, I can meet you somewhere! Where can we meet right now?"

Clearly she was livid; in fact, Colt noticed her pointed ears were getting longer, her skin was turning reddish and small horns poked out of her forehead.

[Sandman XI]

Wesley sighed with distress, "It... it's not what you think," he said softly in an apologetic tone. "Meet me where we first met, Liberty Park. Statue of Sergeant Shrapnel. I'll talk to you there. Phones are impersonal, I want to actually talk to you. See you there." With that he clicked off and dialed Robin. He was going to need her help. Well, her help and Avenger's. He saw what Lynn could do when she was angry. Not a pretty thing. "Robin, it's me, Wesley," He said as she answered the phone, "I need to see you like right now. Can you port me?"

[Raveled]

Robin Cross was deeply engrossed in a loosely-bound sheaf yellowing papers; the account of an Arabic poet-turned-diplomat in the first millennium C.E. It was mostly the man's personal diary, but it talking at length about his encounters with the 'North-men,' obviously a group of Vikings, in other words. The leader had apparently wielded a short Roman-style blade with numerous runic inscriptions. Robin didn't think they were Icelandic or Latin, which would have been the most likely languages to use in such an enchantment. She expected many happy hours tracking down the exact language used and working out the arcane power equations. If her guess was right and the Viking's gladius was, in fact, made of meteoric iron...

The sorceress was jerked out of a happy haze of numbers by an insistent electronic bleeping. She glanced around her apartment once and then stood, following the sound into the front entryway and to her long leather coat. She fished in its voluminous interior pockets for a moment before coming up with a clamshell cell phone. She checked the caller ID, gave a tight smile as she saw Wesley's name and number flash up, flipped the phone open and pressed it to her ear.

"Wesley," she said, "I'm in the middle of an important paper. If you got drunk at a bar, call a taxi." As Robin talked, she wound her way back into her apartment until she was standing over her kitchenette table again, leafing through the papers.

[Sandman XI]

"It's not that," Wesley said slipping on his pants, "I really need your help." His voice turned from pleading to sincere, "It's my past. It's coming back to haunt me." He sighed, "You know those nightmares I've been telling you about? Well, this is one of them." He paused for a moment, "It's the gory one with pigs."

[Raveled]

Robin continued staring down at the papers on the table, but she wasn't really seeing them. After a moment she closed her eyes and made a small noise in her throat. "Alright," she said softly. "I'll be there in a few."

The sorceress retrieved her longcoat from the hall closet and slipped the phone inside, then grabbed her ash wood staff from beside her bed. She took another minute to walk through her apartment a few times, checking the door and window locks, and apparently touching random places on the wall. Satisfied that her physical and mystical defenses were in place, she stood in the center of her sitting area and gripped her staff, lips moving silently as she worked out the intricacies of the spell.

After a moment the slender shaft of wood started to glow blue, then the color moved to the tip in a soundless rush. Robin swiped the blue-white light at the air at roughly head-height for her, and with a whisper of "TARDIS," expended her will. The moving tip of the staff left a horizontal line of blue-white light hanging in the air; she touched it with her right hand and it fell to the ground, temporarily showing a view of Wesley's kitchen. The woman stepped through, running shoes silent on the tiled floor, and with a snap of her fingers closed the hole behind her.

She paused there for a moment, looking around for Wesley before calling out. "Wesley? I'm in the kitchen!"

[Heritage]

"Meet me where we first met, Liberty Park. Statue of Sergeant Shrapnel. I'll talk to you there. Phones are impersonal, I want to actually talk to you. See you there."

Lynn snapped her phone shut and tossed it on Colt's bed. "We're meeting in Liberty Park, at Heroes Knoll, right now." She dropped her robe and shifted into her working clothes in one fluid movement. "Colt, I'm gonna need a lift...and maybe a gun."

Suddenly, she stops herself and grabs her phone. "Y'know what, let me just check on Taylor; Jack might have been telling the truth about Wesley, but I still don't understand what the hell he meant by giving me that thing."

She dialed up Taylor's number and nervously paced, waiting for the dimensional guardian to answer.

"Pick up, pick up, pick up...Hello, Taylor? Ohmigod, are you okay? I think Jack might have gone crazy or something."

[alderwitch]

"No... I really do have to get that. It's Grim's ringtone.... Well, its your own fault this is getting interrupted! Yes, of course I'm still mad. Jack, stop that... Hello?"

There was a pause as Lynn's words burst out of her and then a soft and rather long suffering sigh, "No more so than he's always been, but I can see how you might be concerned. Besides, I can take Jack if I had to."

That was said with an audible grin and a challenging smirk. The phone made a static sort of noise as Taylor quickly phased - phone including - "You still there? Okay, good. Now, just calm down. There's... well, it's not a sane explanation but there is an explanation."