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Eire

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3 years 4 months ago - 3 years 3 months ago #37411 by Rose Bunny
Rose Bunny created the topic: Eire
Eire
A Whateley Universe Story
Part 1
….

March 17th
St. Paul, Minnesota.

The place was a dive, but that didn’t matter to the man sitting on the well-worn barstool. This day and his ancestry gave him an excuse to do what he would have ordinarily and otherwise done anyhow. The only difference in the choice of his method of forgetting was that the beer was green and occasionally a Guinness or three would get mixed in. He looked up at his reflection in the mirror behind the bar and saw the disappointment that he was. Tall, well over six foot, but slumped and bent by the hardness of life. His hair was shaved short, to hide the baldness and grey. His eyes were an unremarkable shade of hazel, and his eyelids lazily drooped over them in a permanent squint. A paunch was forming, aided by his self-loathing and appetite for drowning his sorrows in food and beer. The promise he had shown in his youth had been squandered, he was to have been something. His parents had held out such hope for him, his keen intelligence and desire to learn and excel had been beaten out of him by life, and now he just got by while working dead end jobs. He stopped to order another round, but the bartender shook his head.

“... ‘Ey pally, I recon ye’ve ‘ad enough.”, the man behind the bar remarked.

Getting off his stool, the patron dropped some cash on the bar and shuffled off, looking to find another establishment to pickle his liver at. Lost in his thoughts and the sheer volume he had consumed, the man never noticed the young punks that slipped off their own stools and followed him out the door.

—————

The young men saw the man take several bills from his wallet and shamble off. With a nod to each other, the three college students followed. Rolling the drunk wouldn’t be too much effort, surely. The three students were on football scholarships to the University, one drunken man couldn’t give them much of a hassle. He’d be too drunk to identify them, and one bum couldn’t hope to take on three much more fit attackers. waiting until the man got to a more secluded spot, the would-be muggers moved into position. One of the boys, a large 6’5” and 280 pound obstacle, slid in front of the man seeking to block escape. The other two, though not as large, were still pretty big. The first blow was from behind, as the boy flanking on the left threw a solid punch to the kidneys. Taking a hit from the boy, the older man pivoted and threw a fast left jab that connected with the jaw of the youth. Dodging a punch from the assailant on the right, the man ducked into a sweep, taking him to the ground. However, the large wall in front of him took that opportunity to stomp on the still extended leg and smashing the ankle. Rolling to his right, the downed man drove his elbow into the jaw of the fallen boy, a loud crack was heard as the jaw broke.

Looking at his friend and accomplice, the largest man grabbed at the drunk.

“Joe! …You bastard, I’m going to make you hurt for that!” The injured man, evidently named Joe, crawled off holding his jaw. The big man resumed his attack, picking up the hobbled man and pile-driving him to the pavement while his other friend repeatedly kicked him, breaking bones and rupturing internal organs. The muggers grabbed the man’s wallet and phone, and left him laying in the snow. He felt hot and feverish, he ached and coughed blood. As the snowfall increased in intensity, the man opened his eyes briefly and saw a lone four leaf clover sticking out defiantly from the white.

“Heh… just my luck.”, he laboriously said before closing his eyes.
Those were the last words the man would speak, as he lay in the white embrace of the falling snow.

—————

March 19th
St. Paul, Minnesota


The city was digging out from the massive snowstorm that had rolled through two nights prior, plows still attempting to clear roads, even now. In the small park a mound of snow shook, and a small figure appeared from within. She wore clothing that appeared to belong to someone easily a foot taller and at least a hundred pounds heavier. The diminutive girl shook herself, casting off the loose snow before she staggered uneasily forward. There was still snow falling and she squinted as the wind whipped it in her face. She blinked her large grey eyes. Eyes that were a smokey shade of grey, mysterious and enigmatic. Eyes that seemed slightly too large, but gave her a wide-eyed look of beauty and intrigue. The girl pulled the hood of the too-large jacket further over her head. She had vague flashes of laying in the snow, feeling like she was burning up, unable to move. She did not know it, but if not for the snow and cold she would have died. The snow was up to her knees, and walking was difficult. She trudged on, not knowing where she was going. If someone had stopped her and asked her anything, she would not have ben able to answer. To her, life had begun when she awoke.

Weary and hungry, the girl paused and sat down a the sheltered bus stop. People came and went and piled into the large vehicles and others climbed out. The girl thought nothing of it. She thought nothing at all. She was empty, not thoughts, no spirit, no personality.

Operating on pure instinct and muscle memory had gotten her this far, but it did not tell her that someone had noticed her and her unusual garb.

The young man had noticed what appeared to be a girl trudging out of the park, the figure was wrapped in clothes that were far too big. She stumbled with the large boots she had on. There was something interesting here, surely. She had finally reached a bus shelter and sat. There were too many people coming and going. If he made a move to take her, he would surely be seen. He was smart.

“They don’t call you ’The Acquirer’ for nothing.”, he thought as he smirked. Looking around, he crossed the street and went over to the shelter. Pretending to look over the bus schedule, he looked at the girl cautiously and inched closer. She did not seem to notice. Cautiously, he inched closer, so that he was next to her. She still had no reaction to him. it was time to take a risk.
Carefully, he placed his hand on her arm. Still no reaction. Plans and thoughts went through his mind. In the Twin Cities underground, The Acquirer was THE person you went to for anything illegal: drugs, girls, booze, weapons, he either had it or knew where to get it. He would take this girl with him, he decided. Standing up, he had a plan. Since the girl seemed out of it and unresponsive, he was sure it’d work. Linking his arm under hers, he helped her up.

“Come with me, Lucy, it’s time to go home, Mom has been worried about you.” What her real name might be, if she even had one, he didn’t care. If anything went wrong, he’d simply use his power, and nobody would remember them having been there. Standing up, he guided her to her feet, and pulled out a phone and began to dial a very specific number.

“Sidero’s Sandwiches, how may I help you?”, came the response from the other end of the connection. Knowing the code, The Acquirer replied, “Two number sevens for delivery, with extra toppings.” There was no such thing as a number seven, and his request for extra toppings let them know that they would need to bring the van to the pick-up. With the address given, He hung up and waited. Soon a van arrived and they carefully loaded her in the back. It was suspicious, surely, but he looked at everyone around and his power flared as he made them forget about the girl and about the van, and most importantly about him.

The van pulled into the parking lot behind the seemingly ordinary shop and two men popped out the front doors and slid open the side panel door. Grabbing the girl’s arms, they walked her in through the rear entry and into the kitchen area. Going over to the wall, The Acquirer slid the framed business license aside and revealed a keypad. Punching in his code, a deep thud was heard and the hidden entry opened up. Going down the stairs, he motioned for his lackey to carry the girl down. the hidden basement area had stacks of contraband booze and ammo up to the ceiling in some places. in the far corner there was a cell, with a simple sink and toilet.

“Let’s see what we have here.”, thought the criminal to himself. He carefully unzipped her way too big jacket, revealing a petite figure with ample curves and a large, sexy bust. Liking what he saw, he pulled off the remainder of her clothes and surveyed the new merchandise. She was exotic, her face soft and round, lips pouty and inviting. she was slender and sensual. Those big eyes were inviting enough to get lost in. Running his gloved hand through her shoulder length crimson hair, he found a surprise… she had delicate points to her ears.

“Holy shit!”, he exclaimed in glee… This bitch is one of those ‘she’ things that old man O’Sullivan always went on about. “Damn, a genuine elf girl… I’m gonna be rich.”

St. Paul had a large Irish community, and to cater to their wants and desires, he had his eyes out for redheads and girls that would please that niche… this one would make him money, enough money that he could certainly buy himself a judge or ten.

The man sat smiling and laughing evilly, but to the girl, none of it registered.

High-Priestess of the Order of Spirit-Chan


Last Edit: 3 years 3 months ago by Rose Bunny.
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3 years 4 months ago - 3 years 3 months ago #37533 by Rose Bunny
Rose Bunny replied the topic: Eire
Eire
A Whateley Universe Story
Part 2
….

March 20th
St. Paul, Minnesota.
The Acquirer’s secret lair.

Jimmy Rossi was out of his element. He had picked up the girl on a whim less than 12 hours ago, but in that time had come to the realization that he was in over his head. He was known as the Acquirer in the underground circles, for his ability to get what his customers needed, but now what he needed was information. When the girl was brought in he had her old clothes stripped off, and had found she was covered in hives. Mysteriously they healed up in about an hour. Since then, the girl had sat unmoving in the cell, not speaking or moving about. She didn’t respond to anyone talking to her, nor did she eat the food that was provided. Information… There was only one man he could call, and as luck would have it, that man owed him a favor.

Bobby “The Weasel” Wessel sat at his desk, pouring over his latest scheme. When the phone rang, he looked over at the ID and smiled. If the Acquirer was calling him it had to be big. Bobby was the go-to guy for information in the underground, his telepathy aiding him in his dealings. That marker he owed had always gnawed at him. He hated owing favors. With a smile, he picked up the phone.

“Wessel’s dry cleaning, how may I help you?”, he replied. On the other end he heard that all too familiar voice. “I have a special order, I need a rush job on my best suit, and delivery ASAP. If you can hurry over, I’ll make it well worth your while.” Neither man was an amateur, and they knew that one or both of their lines had to be tapped.

“I can be over for pick-up in a few minutes, usual location?”, inquired the telepath. After Rossi confirmed, Wessel grabbed his coat and took off for the car in a dash. Because Acquirer’s ‘forget’ powers didn’t work on him, he knew that he was out from behind that marker.

—————

Twin Cities Overseer HQ,
Minneapolis, MN.

Gavia frowned, as she turned from the computer. Something was going on, but what? For it to involve both The Weasel and The Acquirer it had to be big. Without more to go on, they were unable to do anything. Further complicating things was the fact that while they knew where The Weasel operated from, the Acquirer was a different matter. He was slippery, and his mutant ability to make people forget meant that nobody knew where his base of operations was, unless he wanted them to.

Sighing and turning back to her desk, she returned to her paperwork. Gavia mused, “It’s always something, and with Card Trick farmed out to Sioux Falls, we are shorthanded. This is the worst time possible for this to happen.”

—————

The Acquirer’s Lair.

Wessel looked over the girl as she sat staring blankly ahead. “I don’t know much about these elf folk, you sure you want me to try to read her?”
Rossi nodded, “I brought her in, but she is acting mighty strange, it’s like the lights are on, but nobody is home. Here, watch this.”
Picking up an iron rod, he walked over to the girl, and touched it to her thigh. Wessel put his hand over his mouth as the iron bar burned her thigh, the smell of burnt flesh strongly filling the room. The burn was cracking and peeling, scabbing over before starting to fade slowly. After about twenty minutes it had healed completely.

Hesitantly, Wessel approached the girl and gently probed her mind. He found nothing. He frowned and probed deeper.

“Her shields couldn’t be this good.”, he thought. Going as deep as he dared, he searched, finding nothing at all. Turning to Rossi, he shook his head.

“I’m sorry, I get nothing. Nobody is home. You’ve got yourself a vegetable. Her body is doing all the routine stuff, like breathing, but the head is empty.”

Wessel turned to walk away from her, his bare hand accidentally touched her arm. He felt a flare in that brief instant, a brilliant flash in his mind. Turning back to her, he tried one more probe, going in deep. To his amazement, where there had been nothing before, there was now a tiny spark, faint but there none the less.

“What the…?”, he cried out in amazement. “I’m getting… something. It’s faint, but there.”

Rossi, nodded his head towards the door, signifying that Wessel should leave. “Consider your marker called in.”, he said as the telepath left.
Fortunately for him, his own powers shielded him from telepathic probes, because that fool Wessel didn’t know the gold mine that was sitting in that cage staring blankly ahead.

He needed more information, O’Sullivan knew about these ‘She’ things, but would it be safe to trust him? There was too much he needed to know.
Scanning the interned had not helped, he looked up ’she’ and ‘elf’ and ‘she elf’, but that didn’t help. All he found was fetish porn and cartoons and comic books. A mage might know, but he didn’t know any mages, at least none that he felt safe dealing with. With a resigned sigh, The Acquirer reached for the phone.

After a couple rings, Old Man O’Sullivan picked up. Loathe as he was to talk to the head of the Irish mob, Rossi really had no choice.

“Chief O’Sullivan, please?”, he submissively said into the phone. Rossi HATED having to act subservient to anyone. But setting up this meeting would get him what he needed.

High-Priestess of the Order of Spirit-Chan


Last Edit: 3 years 3 months ago by Rose Bunny.

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3 years 3 months ago - 3 years 3 months ago #37795 by Rose Bunny
Rose Bunny replied the topic: Eire
Eire
A Whateley Universe Story
Part 3
….


Somewhere inside…

There had been nothing. The pain and cold and burning had ripped away everything, leaving only rudimentary autonomic abilities and rough locomotion. On’y emptiness and darkness remained inside, but then something brushed against the shell. The power reached out in that instant, and latched onto something. Something that was outside made contact with the darkness in that brief touch. The power grabbed at it, pulling in a small fragment of awareness, a small chunk of what some would call ‘soul’. With this ’soul’ the void became aware. It was primitive and primal, no thought, only instinct, but now it was. The blank eyes, the blank expression saw now, but did not comprehend. Not yet, but if the shell were touched again, it could take more…

—————

March 21st
St. Paul, Minnesota.

Rossi bowed before O’Sullivan, as was the proper custom when meeting with a major player in the underworld.

“Chief, I come to call in a favor, one that will potentially make a nice profit. But I need your help. And if this works out, I will cut you in for 20% of my profits. All I need is a little information.”, The Acquirer looked as humble as he could, this was no time or place for egos or flexing.

O’Sullivan looked towards the man who was bowing before him. As the Head of the Underworld in the Twin Cities, O’Sullivan was in a unique position to either grant favors, or call them in at will.

“I’m listening.”, The old man said.

“I have come into an opportunity involving those Elves, the um ‘she’, and I need some information.”, The younger man volunteered.

“Ah, the Sidhe, it’s spelled S-i-d-h-e. They are a race of the fae, you know, magical peoples. I know quite a few. Outside Boston, St. Paul has perhaps the largest community of them in the United states. I know personally about a dozen, myself. What is this about?”

Rossi swallowed, he wasn’t sure how this would play out, and caution was always the better strategy. “I .. I may have… acquired… one into my services, but the problem is she can’t speak, and I have no idea how to care for her or what her special needs might be. She is quite the looker, and if you know of a …certain clientele that would be interested in… spending time with such a beauty, I think 20% is fair.”

O’Sullivan stroked his chin. “I might be able to help you.”

Rossi listened as the Old Man talked about Sidhe, about some mythical event that broke the continents apart, and -get this- caused the sinking of Atlantis. His theory was that Atlantis had been a region close to Ireland and Scotland, and that’s why the Sidhe were so abundant in that part of the world. The conversation went on for hours, tracing some sort of migration of Sidhe to America during the Irish potato famine. Amongst all the rambling, Rossi learned various tidbits about the sidhe and their care and likes and dislikes, their weaknesses and connection to magic. After hours of discussion, O’Sullivan finally finished and paused to think.

O’Sullivan stopped to take out a pen and a business card. “Call this doctor, he has had some experience with sidhe, and can give your new asset a check-up.”

The Acquirer bowed and took the card, heading off. That meeting wasn’t as bad as he thought, and with O’Sullivan knowing some of these sidhe things, that might be even more beneficial. He smiled a wicked grin and walked through the door.

——————

Later that day

The Doctor walked into the cell and looked over the young woman that lay there. She was a magnificent specimen, about 5’4” or so, she was fit and well endowed, her curves were very hourglass-like, and she had a magnificent ass. He was getting hard just anticipating running his hands all over her and examining her. He went into his bag and pulled out rubber gloves, since latex would cause irritation and hives. If he took a little longer with the breast and pelvic exams, who would blame him? The doctor finished his exam after much delay.

“She appears perfectly healthy. Until she can eat on her own, I can set you up with IV drips, or you can force down baby foods, applesauce, and the like. As for her … condition, she appears to be a virgin, but with sidhe that’s not a guarantee. Most of them have regeneration equal to a low-level exemplar, so any damage done to them can be healed fairly quickly. and given her… responses… to my breast and pelvic exams, this one is extremely sensitive. Even with nobody home, the pleasure centers provide more than enough involuntary reaction. once you begin using her… I’d like a test drive, in lieu of payment.” The doctor smirked in a lecherous way and left.

—————

Inside the shell

The spark had felt another nearby, it touched the shell, but something blocked it, it could not reach out to copy anything. It needed contact, it needed more… more awareness, more consciousness. It wanted to become more, beyond the primal nature of its current state. It could become more, if it could only touch more. It needed its shell to make contact.

—————

In the cell.

Rossi was alone now. The doctor had gone. His acquisition had been given a clean bill of health. It was his, and it was time. he smiled as he closed the cell door and began to undo his belt.

High-Priestess of the Order of Spirit-Chan


Last Edit: 3 years 3 months ago by Rose Bunny.
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3 years 3 months ago - 3 years 1 month ago #38057 by Rose Bunny
Rose Bunny replied the topic: Eire
Eire
A Whateley Universe Story
Part 4

—————


Somewhere inside

The spark felt something. The shell was being touched. Not a slight touch, not a subtle touch. This was different. It was more. Something was different to the shell. the sensation was more intense. It was reacting. Mating, the shell was being mated. The instinctual level of the spark sensed that much, but it was still limited. It had to act now. Reaching, it touched the other. There was no barrier. The contact was deep enough, It could gently move around inside the lair of the other. Complex formations surrounded it. Compared to the nearly empty domain of its own shell, this was strange and different. Reaching out, the spark touched something, a memory. It was dark and painful. Retreating slightly the spark instead left the memory, and pulled at a fragment of consciousness. It copied the piece and pulled it back to the shell. A fragment of a higher concept pulled along with it. It was too complex, the spark knew nothing of this fragment. Putting it aside, it would analyze this small piece of ‘language' later, when the spark had evolved more. The primal spark took the new strip of consciousness and haphazardly absorbed it, growing and becoming a little more complex. As it evolved, the spark felt the other uncouple from the shell, seemingly done with the mating.


—————

Rossi finished, sweating. There might not be anyone in there, but the sidhe thing was an incredible lay, perhaps the best he’d ever had. it had arched and writhed under him. Pity there was nobody in there. If there had been someone responding and interacting, it would have been even more mind blowing. Getting dressed, The Acquirer left, not noticing that for the first time, the smokey grey eyes followed him as he left the room.

—————

March 22nd
Twin Cities Overseer HQ,
Minneapolis, MN

Brogue sat at the monitor station, listening to police bands and wiretaps. They had learned that Pinball had been sighted in Bloomington, near Mall of America. It seemed an unusual target for the criminal, but Gavia had gone out to investigate. Brogue was a high level exemplar, and a PK superman. In the past his powers hadn’t been a good match for the exemplar/energizer. Better to leave that up to his partner and her avatar talents. He sighed. Things had not gone well for the Overseers in the past year. Card Trick was settling in out in South Dakota, and it looked more and more like she would decide to stay. A pity because they really could use her. As it stood, Gavia and he were the only active members.
Lake had retired when her fiancee had proposed, opting to settle down and go back to school to get her teacher’s degree. Mismatch had broken his spine in the fight with Paul Bunyan, and was now in a wheelchair. Defcon’s arms and legs had been claimed by a random car accident. Worst of all was the betrayal by Tamarack, who had turned traitor and led them into the trap that had cost Bluebell and Sunstroke their lives.

Pausing from his reminiscing, Brogue’s head snapped around at the call that came over the wiretap. Something was going on. Finnis O’Sullivan, known leader of the Irish Mob and leader of the Underground in the Twin Cities, was calling some of his more financially well-off associates, informing them that he had ‘acquired’ an opportunity for those that were seeking more interesting forms of entertainment. Alarm bells went off in Brogue’s mind, Gavia had monitored a suspicious call between The Acquirer and The Weasel, and the not so subtle namedrop just now worried him. Something was going on, likely something big.

Gavia walked in, looking a little beat up, but none the worse for wear. “It was Pinball, but she got away. There just HAD to be a comic convention in the area. She ducked into the crowd and I lost her amongst the hordes of Pinball cosplayers, I saw a few good ‘me’, and was talked into some picture taking, and no… before you ask, I didn’t see anyone cosplaying your ugly mug.” Gavia grinned and sat down beside her teammate.

“A shame, lassie. There would ‘ave been some mighty fine lookin’ lads there if that had been the case”, Brogue chuckled.
“Seriously though, we may ‘ave a wee bit o’ trouble brewing over across the river. O’Sullivan is dropping hints that Rossi has some sort o’ big opportunity for those willing to drop a pretty coin or two”. Reaching over, the burly man punched a button so that the woman next to him could hear.

After listening, Gavia exhaled deeply and ran her fingers through her black and white peppered hair. She was in her early 30’s and fit, some would say svelte. Her red irises and the white that peppered her otherwise black hair were gifts from her avatar spirit, as were her webbed toes. She was smaller than Brogue by a good deal, standing only 5’2”, but her low-level exemplar status made her undeniably attractive.

Brogue got up and walked over to the gym, leaving his partner to communications monitoring. The burly Irishman picked up his cudgels and began some free-form weapons exercises. At nearly 6’4” and thick with muscles, the Irishman wasn’t the conventional definition of attractive, despite being an exemplar 5. He had the stereotypical Irish hooligan look, with his red hair and beard. His features were rough, the nose that healed slightly crooked, the off-center jaw that had been broken and not set correctly. After a good workout, he went to the showers and then decided to call it a night. Tomorrow he had work to do, contacts to meet. He would work his informants and see what was going on in his old stomping grounds.

—————

March 22nd
The Acquirer’s lair.

Sitting in his office, Rossi thought and pondered. he would have to move the girl, he could make a lot of money off her, but the setting was all wrong. Nobody would want to do it in an old cell. He needed a secure location that wasn’t a dump. Hotel rooms wouldn’t work, that would draw too much attention and have the cops breathing down his neck… or worse, The Overseers. Where to hide her, where indeed…? Inspiration stuck, and he began to smile. It was perfect, a perfect place, and a perfect idea. Best of all, nobody would suspect a thing.

High-Priestess of the Order of Spirit-Chan


Last Edit: 3 years 1 month ago by Rose Bunny.

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3 years 3 months ago - 3 years 3 months ago #38348 by Rose Bunny
Rose Bunny replied the topic: Eire
Eire
A Whateley Universe Story
Part 5

—————

March 23rd
Outside The Drunken Leprechaun Club
St. Paul, Minnesota


Rossi had bought this place for meetings and entertaining his clients. Figuring it’d be a good place to ‘acquire” information and make deals. It hadn’t turned out to be that, but it did make a modest profit and would be perfect for the new venture. The apartments upstairs of the club was better than the cell. He could fix one up with a nice bed, and make it more…suitable for use. A king sized bed, hidden cameras, the works. When he wasn’t using the girl to make money, she could be kept in one of the others. She wasn’t quite housebroken yet, so they had to use adult diapers with her. Can’t have her messing up the workplace apartment. The only access was through the club, and there was plenty of security there to keep her safe from those that would try to sneak in or steal her. The additional bonus was next door to the club. When he acquired the building, he made a deal with an associate of his that specialized in certain… risqué garments. As part of the lease deal, there was a reduction in rent, so long as the dancers were supplied with stage outfits. Throwing a little more business that way for lingerie for the sidhe to be provided... and possibly fetish gear... would be no problem as well.

—————

March 23rd
Outside O’Sullivan’s Irish Pub
St. Paul, Minnesota


LeAnna Baker-Smith sat in the nondescript compact car, watching the entry. She was wary, something big was going on in the underground, something big. She touched up her lipgloss and adjusted the strawberry blonde wig she was wearing. She looked into the rear view mirror, seeing the blue-tinted contacts that helped disguise her distinctive eyes. Gathering her purse, she got out and walked up to the door. The bouncer looked over the diminutive woman and asked to see her ID. LeAnna flashed her ID, not her real one of course, but rather an alias that she used for undercover work. The bouncer looked skeptically at the short woman with the slender curves and small bust, but let her in. She moved swiftly to the back of the room, and listened in on the conversations around her. The directional micro sound amplifier was a gadget that she had gotten from an old friend, back in their school days. Surreptitiously, she adjusted the earpiece and scanned the room.

Catching her attention were two men, their good looks might have indicated they were exemplars, but the points to their ears and short stature pointed instead to them being Sidhe. One of them spoke, and she listened in.

“So, as I was saying, rumor is that there is something going on between O’Sullivan and The Acquirer, some sort of bargain. Apparently, Acquirer got his hands on a prime package…”

“Better than the one from out East? you know, the one in that oh-so-nice poster?”, inquired the other.

“At least as good, if not better.”, came the reply.

LeAnna frowned and continued to listen in, but the topic soon switched to soccer, and she continued to order the much too expensive ginger ale and try to gather more intel. After a few hours, she gave up and planted one of her secure recording devises in the cushions of the booth and left. Getting to her car, she drove off. Confirming she was not being tailed, she took off the wig, and shook her head, letting her peppered hair fall freely.

—————

March 24th
A Room over the Drunken Leprechaun
St. Paul, Minnesota

Pierre looked at the nude girl, she was the most exquisite thing he had ever seen. He had been in the business a long, long time, and done a lot of custom outfits and measurements, but this was the first girl to EVER make him question his homosexuality. He adjusted the fancy silk gloves he wore and took his tape out. Measuring very carefully, He licked his lips and shook his head, trying to focus on the job. She was a short girl, standing 5’4”, her legs were long and her hips wide, measuring 36 inches around. her thin waist was 22 inches, and her generous bust was 36 inches, a truly hourglass shape. Figuring her to be a D cup, he continued to eyeball his measurements before returning down to his shop to begin. He had such delightful ideas. Thoughts of emerald greens and golds and white lace drifted through his head. He had orders for corsets and teddies and panties and garters and more for this girl. This would be a delight. Having his numbers and everything he needed, Pierre called to Rossi to be let out of the locked room. he returned to his shop, next door, and began working.

—————

April 4th
Inside the shell.

She sat, looking around. Many had been in to mate, and she had carefully picked through their minds and pulled more consciousness to her. She had no sense of time, nor of numbers, but she knew it was a lot of mating and a lot of time had passed since it had begun. Her master, for that's what her simple mind thought of him as, had provided things that were put on over her skin, but the many mates always removed them. She had grown. She knew more. More of these concepts she had pulled from the minds of her mates were beginning to make sense. The master had been feeding her and cleaning her. She had observed him using that white bowl in the other room, and he had trained her to use it. He seemed pleased that she was learning. He mated with her several times, and she had begun to respond. She heard the master use that language thing with others, but that still eluded her. In time, she might understand it. In time, as she wove herself together and she learned. Each new mating held the chance to pull more into herself.
She avoided the memories and experiences of her mates, those were dark, and they scared her. A few times her mates had been different, they were familiar… like her, but also not. From those she pulled bigger pieces of consciousness to herself to copy.

—————

April 4th
The Drunken Leprechaun
St. Paul, Minnesota

Rossi sat and counted, a large stack of hundred dollar bills sat in front of him. The girl was profitable, and getting more so. She seemed to be getting smarter. She was responding, her eyes followed him when he was in there. She didn’t speak, but he had the feeling she was getting close. There was something about this sidhe, she had been a vegetable when he had brought her in... but now, she was more like a puppy. She followed him around, she learned, she no longer needed to be hand-fed nor to be diapered.
He would worry more, but damn she was better now. she responded, not just physically, she reacted. She responded. She was no longer a limp fish in the sheets, she was wild, she was an animal. Just thinking about it made him hard. He had to do something about that. He smiled and went upstairs, laughing as he went.

High-Priestess of the Order of Spirit-Chan


Last Edit: 3 years 3 months ago by Rose Bunny.
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3 years 3 months ago #38493 by Rose Bunny
Rose Bunny replied the topic: Eire


A little treat for those of you reading along as I write. I picture of her in "the room".

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3 years 3 months ago - 3 years 3 months ago #38510 by Rose Bunny
Rose Bunny replied the topic: Eire
Eire
A Whateley Universe Story
Part 6
—————


April 7th
Rice Park
St. Paul, Minnesota

Sean Murphy sat by the statue of Peppermint Patty, looking around for his contact. He had been unsuccessful up until now in his efforts to discover information on what The Acquirer had been up to. Theo “The Rat” Ratcliff was approaching slowly and cautiously. A small man, barely over 5 foot, Theo was known for his ability to be overlooked. Whether it be a power of some sort, an aura, or just his unremarkable nature, this fact helped out the police and the heroes in the area greatly. Pretending to admire the statue, he glanced aside at Murphy. The man towered over him, well over a foot plus taller. Looking to the scruffy read haired man, he nodded casually.

“I hear ye have some information tha’ might prove useful t’ me.”, remarked the taller man.

In a whispered voice, the reply came. “I might have heard a bit of something that would interest you.”

Sean nodded and reached for his wallet. “Usual fee?”, he inquired.

The other man looked around nervously. “Nah, I’ll give you this one, it kind of bothers me. I might be a snitch but some things just get to me.” Trying to look casual, he leaned in and whispered. “I’ve heard news from some of my buddies in O’Sullivan’s crew that the deal he’s working with Rossi involves a kid. Some young girl he found. I don’t know much more, but I can’t abide with people using kids, it makes my stomach turn.”

Sean frowned and turned to Ratcliff, “Thank ye, this ‘as been a big help. We will do all we can t’ find out what the hell is going on. In the mean time… take the money. I know ye said this was a freebie, but ye have done a good thing, and ye should be rewarded.” Slipping the man a couple hundreds, he nodded to him, then walked off, looking about as he did.

Arriving at his car, Sean called his private line back to the HQ. After 2 rings, Gavia picked up.

“Brogue, what’s up?”, She inquired

After he relayed the news, they both were quiet. They thought something bad was going on, but this just made it worse.

—————


April 8th
Above the The Drunken Leprechaun
St. Paul, Minnesota.

She watched Master pacing around the room. Something was wrong. She was learning more of this language thing, but the bits and pieces she had gathered were still fragmented and broken. She had heard “danger” and ‘spy’, but she did not have context.
Maybe if she touched Master, she might understand more. Getting up, the girl walked over to the pacing man and put her arms around him. She felt his unease and apprehension, and then anger. Suddenly, Master struck her! That wasn’t right. Master cared for her. He fed her, he mated with her often. She felt feelings of fear. she crawled to the other side of the room, putting the bed between them. Tears fell from her eyes. Worried, her hand strayed to her stomach in a protective manner. He stormed out of the room, slamming the door.

—————

Downstairs


Things were getting dangerous. a bug had been found at O’Sullivan’s. It had been hidden well, and they had almost missed in in the latest sweep. When he had contacted Rossi, he warned him about it. Someone was prying into the Old Man’s business. Sooner or later that would lead back to him. He had earned a lot of money with the girl. But she was dangerous. She had grown fast, too fast. He couldn’t keep this up. Eventually she would become aware that she was being used. She had seen his worry, she had to have. She had tried to comfort him. that meant she was learning to read emotions. She had also shown fear. She wouldn’t be puppy-like and subservient for much longer, surely. How was she doing this? Wessel said he had felt… something that first time. Had he given her this ability to learn? Was he playing some sort of long game? Paranoia was creeping into Rossi’s mind. Was Wessel mentally doing something to her? Was he putting thoughts into her mind? was he teaching her these things? Wessel had to be dealt with. Nobody would mess with his enterprises. His clients paid far too well to use this girl, especially the sidhe ones. Rossi was The Acquirer… he had power, he could get things for people. People owed him favors. He would protect his goldmine, and Wessel had to die.


—————

April 9th
Lake Phalen
St. Paul, Minnesota

Claire Ferguson was out walking her dog along the lake, as she did every morning. Stopping to let little Pekoe examine a bush, she screamed. Hidden in the bushes there was a body, a bloody body with its hands cut off. The head was unidentifiable. All that was left of it was pulp and spattered grey matter.

High-Priestess of the Order of Spirit-Chan


Last Edit: 3 years 3 months ago by Rose Bunny.
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3 years 3 months ago - 3 years 3 months ago #38631 by Rose Bunny
Rose Bunny replied the topic: Eire
Eire
A Whateley Universe Story
Part 7
—————
April 9th
Lake Phalen
St. Paul, Minnesota


Gavia landed about 50 yards behind the police tape. Her feathers retracted and faded away. Walking forward past the onlookers, gawkers, and media she made her way up to the tape. Showing her ID to the Sergeant, she was escorted across the tape. This was something big. Members of the MCO, SPPD, Ramsey County Sheriffs Department, St Paul Parks Security Department, FBI, and BCA were all on hand. A large slim black haired man walked over to her.

“Agent Hansen, we have to stop meeting like this.”, She said, looking at the man in the navy suit. She had known Agent Hansen for several years, in his job as liaison for the Bureau of Criminal Apprehension, the state version of the FBI.

Agent Don Hansen nodded at the hero, and walked her toward the crime scene. He knew that she got a lot of ribbing for being the avatar of the “Spirit of the Loon”, but she was a skilled detective.

“I thought you would want to see this. a woman walking her dog found the body an hour ago.”, he explained. “Initially, STPD was having trouble identifying the victim, for reasons you can obviously see.”

Gavia looked at the corpse, while it was obvious that it was a male caucasian of medium height, the hands had been removed. There was’t enough left of the head for a positive identification. It was was either a hit, or someone that had experience in killing. Removing the means of identifying the victim would make it all that much more difficult to determine who killed the man.

Agent Hansen walked her over to the shore a little ways away. “The killer got sloppy and provided us a clue.” Pointing to the beach, there were tracks leading to the water. It was still cold enough that there was snow on the ground. “Size nine male boots, and there’s more.The ice is thin enough here that he couldn’t go out very far. We used a scope to look under the ice. found the hands. Fingerprint analysis has identified him. You are looking at what’s left of Bobby Wessel.”

Gavia paused at that. “The Weasel? No wonder everyone and their mother are here. I’m surprised that the MCO and the FBI aren’t trying to crowd you out.”

Hansen nodded. “They tried, but I pulled a few strings with some… important people that I know. As is, we are treating this as a joint task force situation. One of the reasons you are here.” Gavia gave a grim smile at that statement.

Back in 2000, Governor Ventura signed a bill that had granted official police status and public service pay to the recognized hero teams in Duluth, Rochester, and the Twin Cities. As fully deputized public law enforcement, she had access to all relevant data available on this crime.

She turned back to Hansen. “There is something you should know. We’ve had Wessel under a tap for the last 3 months. While most of what we have is unimportant or small-time stuff… there was something going on between Wessel and Jimmy Rossi.”

Hansen frowned. “The Acquirer? He figures into this?” Looking over at the scene the ME had arrived, and they were loading Wessel’s body into a body bag.

Gavia ignored what was happening behind her and continued. We intercepted a call in code between them, then Wessel went to meet with Rossi. We don’t know what was discussed, but since then we’ve learned something big is going on with Rossi and Old Man O’Sullivan.”

Hansen shook his head. “So the Irish Mob is involved.”

Looking at Hansen, Gavia spoke again. “It gets worse, Brogue met with one of his informants. Whatever is going on, it somehow involves a girl. We don’t know anything about her, except that somehow she’s part of some big deal going on between the two.”

—————

April 9th
Above the The Drunken Leprechaun
St. Paul, Minnesota

The girl lay on the bed, deep in thought.

Master had returned. She was afraid. The girl tried to please him, he fed her and took care of her. He had thought he liked her, he certainly liked mating with her. But now he was different. He was scary. Touching his arm slightly, she gently slipped inside his head. She crept around inside his mind, stealthily. It was darker, more dangerous. She brushed past memories. She had decided not to take more pieces of consciousness from him a while ago. She was a devoted servant to him, grateful for the attention and care he took of her, but now she has afraid for her life, her life and more. Over the past few days, she had begun to feel… something…something deep inside, it was faint, but there. Something growing. It was just inside her notice.

She had learned from picking through the different mates what mating was for. She certainly felt pleasure from all the mating, especially from the ones like herself that she had been with. But she learned something more. She was sure that something was growing in her. It had been only a small number of... She looked through the fragments of language that she was stringing together… days?… suns?… moons?… But it was there. Her attention had wandered as master had eased her onto her back. His mouth was on her chest and he was entering her forcefully below. That had distracted her with sensation, she shook it off and continued to explore.

She encountered something unexpectedly, whilest trying to avoid some dark memories. This is why she only took the consciousness and abstract concepts into herself. She didn’t want these other things, these memories. The thing before her was death. Unwanted, she saw it. The man who had touched her and given her the spark to begin making herself… Master had killed him. She was afraid. He lay on top of her, rutting. She felt it, but it didn’t bring her pleasure, instead it brought more fear. She had to get away, but how? She had to protect what was inside her.

High-Priestess of the Order of Spirit-Chan


Last Edit: 3 years 3 months ago by Rose Bunny. Reason: I R sux at Capitals and punctuations

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3 years 3 months ago - 3 years 3 months ago #38737 by Rose Bunny
Rose Bunny replied the topic: Eire
Eire
A Whateley Universe Story
Part 8
—————

April 11th
O’Sullivan’s Irish Pub
St. Paul, Minnesota


Shamus O’Sullivan sat in the office, a frown forming on his wrinkled face. He could see on the security monitor who had entered the establishment. This was a conversation he was not looking forward to. Best to get it over with. With a sigh, the old man grabbed his walking stick and headed out into the front of the pub.

Sean Murphy hated coming to the pub, but he had no other choice at this time. He walked over to the old man that he had seen come out from the back office. Nodding to a booth in the back, Sean went over and sat down.

“So, th’ mighty Brogue has come t’ see a humble old man in his modest establishment. How can I help one so powerful as ye?, I’m merely an old man.”, There was a smirk on his lips as O’Sullivan spat out these words.

“We both know better than that, don’t we, old-timer?”, Murphy knew how the game was played and he would play along. “I am here not ta bother ye for anything ye can’t …weasel your way out of, ye know? I am just here ta see if ye have … acquired… any information on what’s been makin’ the’ news th’ past few days.”

Shamus was no fool, and he had picked up the not so subtle name-drops. “Ah, Boyo, ye know if’n I had any information on such a ‘orrific crime, I’d surely ha’ notified th’ police. I’m afraid I can’t help ye, but I’m sure y’ can, as ye said… acquire information on that tragic incident.”

He hated to give his business associate up, but he had made his money. Best to cut his profits and get out, instead of going down with him. Worse than that, there had been no reason for killing Wessel. In fact, O’Sullivan had relied on Wessel often for information, and losing such a valuable resource had rubbed him the wrong way.

Murphy got up and started towards the door, enough had been said… or not said… that he had his confirmation. “Sorry to disturb ye then, I’ll be heading off.” Turning just before he got to the door, Murphy turned and looked back toward O’Sullivan. “Grand-Da, could ye give Mum a call? I know She’d like t’ hear from ye.”

Shamus stroked his chin and a grin grudgingly crept across his face. That boy was smart, too smart. Shaking his head, he briefly felt pity for Rossi. When Brogue got ahold of him, he would regret it.

—————

Later that Day
Twin Cities Overseer HQ,
Minneapolis, MN


LeAnna sat in her room, thinking. Brogue had come back from his meeting and had filled her in. Things pointed to The Acquirer. Hell, O’Sullivan had practically given him up as the killer. She thought back to her criminology classes back at the academy. Everyone knows about the acronym MMO from police procedurals on tv. The first ‘M’ is ‘means’, did Rossi have means? Certainly, the coroner’s report said that Wessel had died from a .50 calibre slug to the back of the head. That wouldn’t be hard for Rossi to get. The ‘O' was ‘opportunity’… Did he have the opportunity? Of course. Wessel was an information broker. If Rossi had info, he simply had to contact Wessel and tell him to meet him for an exchange. There were no records of any phone calls, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. The contact could have come through other means, or through an intermediary. The part that bothered LeAnna was the second ‘M’, which was ‘motive’. Currently there was none.

Getting up, she walked out into the hall, passing the vacant rooms of her former teammates. The name plate for Tamarak had been removed rather forcefully, by Brogue, in a fit of anger. After the past year’s trials, they needed both a victory and fresh blood. Perhaps she could call Duluth, see if any of the Superiors would be willing to relocate down to the Twin Cities, or perhaps the Rochester team had some possibilities. LeAnna sighed and shook her head. Poaching from the other teams wouldn’t go over well. Maybe she could call the Academy, Liz might have some ideas. There might be a student or two from the area in the senior class that would be willing to join after graduation. Pushing that thought to the side for a moment, she walked into the command center.

There were a couple techs working on the computer system, and some security officers monitoring the communications bands. Brogue wasn’t there. He might be in the gym, or maybe he was out. She was stressed, which was unusual for her. Normally the calming influence of her spirit would help her, but right now even that wasn’t helping. They had to find out what was going on.They needed to find this mysterious girl, and how she factored into all this madness.


—————

That Same Day
A Room over the Drunken Leprechaun
St. Paul, Minnesota

The red-haired girl lounged on the bed. She was alone, the Master had gone out somewhere. This was a good time to practice things in her mind. The problem with piece-meal assembly of one’s psyche from nothing is that you don’t have a blueprint. There is no picture on the box of the puzzle, and even if there were, the pieces were all solid white.
She had gone into the minds of others and copied fragments of consciousness into herself, but they were haphazardly slapped together. She was in the process of knitting them together, forming a cohesive self. This would be a difficult project for the most talented telepath, as it was now, she was operating by pure luck and trial and error. She had put together enough successfully that she was able to understand things better. She was learning this ‘English’ that those that mated with her spoke, and on occasion, she could understand a little of what they were saying to her. She would test herself more, and challenge herself more. She had to, the Master was not right, something had pushed him in the wrong way. He was falling apart, in stark contrast to her coming together.

High-Priestess of the Order of Spirit-Chan


Last Edit: 3 years 3 months ago by Rose Bunny.

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3 years 3 months ago - 3 years 3 months ago #39191 by Rose Bunny
Rose Bunny replied the topic: Eire
Eire
A Whateley Universe Story
Part 9
—————


April 18th
A Room over the Drunken Leprechaun
St. Paul, Minnesota

Her master had been gone for a while, she was teaching herself about time through the mates that she was seeing, It had been about a week since he had been there last. These were repeat matings. With her master gone there had been no new males to mount her. She did not mind this. It still felt good, and she could still build from these. Assembling more and more of herself, she was getting more complete. She looked at the clock on the wall. She had taught herself what a clock was, what hours were, what days were. Her knowledge was expanding, she could understand the males now. She could understand this English thing. She hadn’t practiced it, she knew someone would hear. Holding back might be the best thing to do right now. News might get back to …him. She feared him. In his absence the garment maker had ben coming to bring her food. She no longer needed help for anything else, she could bathe herself, and she knew how to use the waste thing. Modesty was not yet in her awareness, so the garments meant nothing to her yet. They were attractive to the males, so she wore them. They seemed to appreciate removing them from her.

—————

Same day
An unknown location somewhere in the Twin Cities.

Rossi was nervous. He had heard that O’Sullivan was upset with him, and had ended their business dealings. He would not be referring any new potential clients to him. Worse, there were rumors that Brogue had paid O’Sullivan a visit and had leaned on the old man for information. He was frantic. Was it best to perhaps leave town? But then he would lose all his resources. No, he wasn’t going to leave.
There was only one person to blame. He had been wrong to blame Wessel, it was that bitch, she was at fault. she had tricked Wessel, she had tricked him. She was going to pay. Once she was gone, everything would turn out right again. He would be okay. He needed to get a weapon. He had thrown the knife and gun he had used on Wessel into the Mississippi. There was a BOLO out for his car, he was positive. Still, a few people owed him favors, and he could collect on those. Then the girl would get what was coming to her.

—————
Later that day
Bureau for Criminal Apprehension HQ
St. Paul, Minnesota

Agent Hansen hung up the phone. His contacts in the Twin Cities Underworld had heard that Rossi had gone underground. The wiretaps had turned up nothing. Agents from the FBI and local law enforcement had his known hideouts under surveillance. He thought some more about it, there was something missing. Something he had overlooked. He thought for a minute and then an idea came into his mind. Picking up the phone, he flipped through his rolodex, looking for a specific number. Smiling, he dialed the number.

“Internal Revenue Service, Agent Peyton speaking.” The woman on the other end of the phone replied. Hansen had met the attractive brunette at a convention last year and they had hit it off. After a steamy weekend, they had both gone back to their respective cities, in her case it was Kansas City. Still, he felt that he could call for a favor that he would be willing to repay… personally… at a later date.

“Marie? It’s Don Hansen from the BCA.” He said.

“Donny! Calling to set up child support? You really should have called much sooner.”, came her reply.

Hansen nearly dropped the phone. “What??”, came his panicked response.

She laughed. “Gotcha! What do you need?”

He hesitated. “Well, after that… a cardiologist. But in all seriousness, I need a favor.”

Hansen went on to explain the situation about the murder and that there was a possible kidnapping victim out there. With her skills as a forensic accountant, she could probably help in finding if he had any businesses or real estate under tax shelters or shell companies. Having given Marie the info, he politely hung up and turned his thoughts back to his own search.

—————

That evening
Twin Cities Overseer HQ,
Minneapolis, MN

The private line rang in the communications center. Looking at the number, Brogue smiled. His Mother often called to see how her “wee lad” was doing. When he picked up, the voice was NOT his mother.

“Sean?”, the man on the other end of the phone asked.

Brogue tensed at the fact that his Grandfather had the audacity to call him from his mother’s phone. “What do ye want? If ye are callin’ t’ try ta talk me back into the family business, ye can f’rget it. “He went to hang up.

“Sean, wait!”, The old man hollered. “I have inport’nt news f’r ye! It’s about th’ murder o’ th’ Weasel!”

Brogue put the hone back to his ear. “I’m listenin’, Old Man…”

O’Sullivan took a breath before continuing. “Last month he approached m’ with an opportunity, apparently somehow he got ahold o’ some sidhe lass, a real looker from what I’ve been told. She’s a redhead maybe 15-16 or so, though ‘ve heard she looks a fair bit older. I … introduced him ta some folk who may ha’ had interest in meetin’ her. Now I’ve na’ seen her, but from what I hear, she’s about 5’3”-5’4” or so, and really pretty. I’m sure all this trouble has somethin’ ta do with her. “

Brogue was seething. “Old Man, ye had best give the phone back ta’ Mum, and stay away from me, if ye know what’s good for ye. I canna believe ye participated in that. Weapons, sure. Drugs, I know ye’ve got yer mitts in that. But prostituting some wee poor girl… If I see you again, ye had best believe we will have words, at th’ very least.” Slamming the phone down, he stormed out of the room to find his partner and tell her the awful truth.

High-Priestess of the Order of Spirit-Chan


Last Edit: 3 years 3 months ago by Rose Bunny.

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