Missing Time (Alchemist / Thalia Trimble One-shot)

Oct 28, 2020 12:18 am
Thalia arrives at the San Espero Bar and Grill first. Theo greets her with a big wave and lets her know that her usual booth for doing business is available in the back. It is a quiet corner away from the restrooms and the kitchen. One of the last sections that gets filled up when the place is busy so there is no risk of being overheard, but it still feels public enough that her clients feel comfortable talking.

She pushes the menu that she knows by heart to the side and places a pad of paper on the table. A short scribble confirms that her pen is in good working order. Nothing left to do but wait.

She looks around the restaurant at the other patrons. There is a elderly couple who appear to be treating their grandson to ice cream. A few tables down is a pair of teenagers awkwardly making small talk on what appears to be a first date. Thalia knows the basic details of what Mr. Thomason wants to discuss. With any luck he’ll be focused on the discussion and won't notice these patrons that could be unwelcome reminders of what he has recently lost.
Alicia pulls the car into the parking lot and turns off the engine. She looks over at her good friend and co-worker, Langford Thomason. She is glad that he is taking this first step into looking into the tragic death of his family. She cannot imagine how hard it has been for him to deal with that loss on top of that overbearing suspicion of foul play. They both need to know the truth and she insisted that she be here by his side to offer moral support.

"Are you ready? I did a lot of research and got some testimonials. Everyone says she’s the best. I know it’s going to be tough talking about this with a stranger, but I really think she can help. Are you ready to go inside? I could go first if you need a minute to collect yourself."
OOC:
I'm having Alicia tag along as an excuse for me to be able to handle any details specific to Lloyd Laboratories. Alicia will speak up if questions are asked regarding who you guys worked with or something along those lines. But any details of the car crash and Lang's family life are entirely up to you.
Oct 28, 2020 5:00 pm
Lang sits in the passenger seat, staring out the window at the front door of the restaurant. He's always been a meticulous person. From his lab work to his clothing to the exacting, accurate way he approaches a problem, he's always been reliable and dependable. Those days, it seems, are fading. He's in bad need of a haircut, and his faded San Espero University hoodie has also seen better days. For a long while, it seems like he hasn't heard a single word Alicia has said, also something that's come to be a new normal.

He doesn't look sad or angry or any of the other emotions that could be slipped over his worn-out face. He just looks lost. Unmoored.

"Lang? Are you ready?" repeats Alicia, and that simple reminder nudges him out of his deep reverie.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm ready," he says, turning to Alicia to offer a brief smile that hides timidly around the corner from his eyes. "If I've forgotten to say it, thanks."

Drawing a deep breath, he sets his shoulders and exhales it slowly. "Let's go talk to the best."

He and Alicia walk into the restaurant, Alicia running observational point for her unobservant friend. She's been told where to expect Thalia to be seated, so it's not a particularly difficult task to find the table in question. Alicia gives Lang a gentle nudge with her elbow. "Over there."

The two of them approach, Lang studying their host with silent, expressionless curiosity. Realizing that Lang's not going to introduce himself right away, Alicia goes first. "Ms. Trimble? Thanks for your time. I'm Alicia Morrison, it's a pleasure to meet you..." She trails off faintly, looking toward Lang with an implied 'go ahead'. Lang, about a half-step behind the beat, adds, "Lang Thomason. Nice to meet you."

He extends a hand toward Thalia to shake.
Oct 28, 2020 5:15 pm
A lot of Thalia's clients come to her in a fraught or fragile emotional state. Sometimes they're agitated or angry; sometimes they're weepy or depressed. And sometimes, they're link Mr. Thomason - just drifting like a snowflake in a blizzard.

She shakes his hand with a gentle but firm grip, enough to tell him she's there, to ground him in the moment. "Mr. Thomason, good to meet you. I'm so sorry for your loss." She shakes Alicia's hand with a nod and gestures to both of them to sit down in the booth.

"Would you like some coffee? Or a piece of pie? Theo makes a terrific banana cream."
Oct 28, 2020 7:30 pm
Lang stares back at Thalia for a moment. Banana cream pie. It's such a... prosaic thing. The mere idea that a terrific banana cream pie could still be a thing wouldn't usually be awe-inspiring, but these are hardly usual days.

The simple joy of pie makes his throat catch, and he finds himself having to blink back sudden tears. He tries to hide it by rubbing at his forehead with the back of one hand and just sort of swipe at his eye as he lowers his hand. Of course, this woman is supposedly the best investigator around, so it's a useless gesture as far as deception goes. Maybe a little more effective at trying to maintain some dignity.

He smiles back, and this even reaches the rest of his face. "Coffee and pie would be fantastic. Thank you. And please, call me Lang," he says as he slides into the booth, taking the spot against the wall. Alicia, who knows him too well, recognizes his response right away and seems encouraged by his sudden engagement in the moment. She sits down next to him.
Oct 28, 2020 7:50 pm
Encouraged by her prospective client's shift to emotional engagement, Thalia returns his smile. "Call me Thalia, Lang." She pronounces the name "tuh-LEE-uh," which is not what anyone thinks when they read it.

She waves a hand to Theo, who has been watching for a signal, and he sends Darla to their table. She's a meaty blonde in her mid-forties who's been working for Theo since long before her divorce, and most importantly, she knows how to walk the line between professional and compassionate. "Well, does everyone know what they'd like now?"

Thalia orders coffee and pie for all of them, assuming Alicia hasn't already expressed a different preference. Darla quickly brings coffee cups and a hot carafe of dark brown brew, pouring each to within half an inch of the brim and setting down a small utilitarian pitcher of cold cream for any who want it. Thalia adds a couple of packets of sugar to hers and leaves it otherwise black.

She waits until the pie slices have been delivered, figuring that it would be best to begin what would likely be an emotionally wrenching conversation for her client after all the server interactions were out of the way. Darla knows to leave them alone until Thalia signals her again.

She takes a bite of the banana cream pie and doesn't close her eyes to savor it, though she'd really like to. She does love banana cream pie so much. But this is a business meeting, not a platform for personal indulgence. She lets Lang have a chance to enjoy his first taste of the pie, too, before broaching the business at hand.

"So Lang, I've read the basic details on the accident. If I'm understanding things correctly, you have some suspicions that you'd like for me to look into for you?"
Oct 28, 2020 9:26 pm
Lang latches on to the pie like it's a lifeline. Maybe he hasn't been eating much.

As Thalia starts in on the questions, he starts to answer before he's completely swallowed. He chokes a little, gives his chest a thump with one fist, and starts in weakly. "Right," he squeaks, then takes a drink of coffee to settle his throat. "Right. Alicia and I have been working together on a project for Lloyd Laboratories for several years now. Determining chemical signals in the brain that control growth and development, with the intent of developing treatments for some very nasty and incurable diseases. We've had some successes lately, some drug candidates that could be headed for clinical trials. But a few months ago, some of our funding was diverted. Which is strange, you know, because usually when you start showing that kind of progress, your project gets pushed to the front."

He pours a bit more cream into his coffee, and stirs it absently. "So I started looking into some things. We started, I mean," he says, indicating Alicia. "We followed the trail and learned that they'd transferred a chunk of our work to a military contractor associated with Lloyd Labs. Which didn't sit well with either of us, at all. So I started raising a fuss."

Lang doesn't seem like the sort to raise much fuss, at least not in this incarnation of himself: something like a formless blob poured into a mold of a human and never quite finished off. "It didn't go very well," he mumbles, looking down into his coffee swirling around inside the mug.
Oct 28, 2020 9:36 pm
Thalia is taking notes in her little notebook - nothing extensive, just a word or two here and there, so she is able to keep an eye on Lang's face and body language. When he stops talking, she waits a beat or two before prompting.

"When you say you raised a fuss, who did you start with? Your immediate supervisor? And what form did this fuss take, exactly? Questions, rants, sternly worded memos up the corporate hierarchy?" She's being gently sarcastic to lighten the mood and nudge him to provide specifics without, she hopes, getting too bogged down in the emotions that are no doubt swirling in him like the cream in his coffee mug. "It's all right to tell me names and specifics. As long as I don't hear anything that constitutes a criminal confession, I will keep everything you say confidential whether you hire me or not."
Oct 28, 2020 11:09 pm
Alicia sits quietly as she watches Lang discuss the series of events that led up the tragedy. She keeps a stoic demeanor but inside, she is delighted to see him like this. Acting almost like his old self. It is a good step in the right direction, at the very least. It gives her hope that Lang will be able to heal and rise above this in time.

"James..." Alicia absentmindedly answers Thalia’s question. She looks up from the cup of coffee she holds between both hands, surprised at her own sudden entry into the conversation. She has vowed to pipe in as little as possible and let Lang tell his story. But that isn’t easy for her and she soon finds herself elaborating.

"James Benson was our immediate supervisor and the one Lang first went to about the issue. He, uh" Alicia forms air quotes with her hands, "requested a transfer before we ever heard any official word back from him on the matter. Less than a month later he just up and quit. Moved across the country. There were rumors making their way through the company of inappropriate behavior or giving preferential treatment to contractors he was friends with." She shakes her head, making it clear that she does not think these rumors were true. "James was a stand up guy and a great chemist. I called him a few times since then but he never called me back." She turns to Lang. "How was he when you brought the issue to him?"
Nov 2, 2020 6:33 pm
Lang runs a hand through his floppy hair, which responds as floppy hair often does: mostly unpredictable.

"James was great, actually. He seemed shocked when I showed him some of the evidence we gathered."

He looks up and to the side, off into the middle distance as he replays the meeting in his head. "It really seemed sincere to me, his reaction. It was a little while ago now, and..." He swallows visibly. "A lot's happened since then, obviously, so my memory may not be very clear, but I trusted him. I think I still do."

As Lang looks back to the women he shares the table with, he says, "It would explain why his reputation took such a hit, and they sent him away. I haven't heard from him either, though I haven't tried to get in touch."
Nov 2, 2020 6:46 pm
Conscious that Lang's mental presence may be fragile as they discuss the events leading up to his tragic loss, Thalia tries to maintain a light touch with the interview. "All right, so you showed James the evidence that the company had abruptly funneled a chunk of your work to a military contractor. James was appalled, and I assume that he escalated? And did you or Alicia do anything else?"
Nov 3, 2020 12:45 am
Alicia breathes out a deep and frustrated sigh. "The couple of weeks after James was transferred were chaotic. There wasn't a lot of time to think about it what to do next. I was just trying to surv... to keep my job. They had consultants brought in talk to all of us about what they were working on. Everyone in the department was sat down and given this big presentation about being a team player. People got paranoid that our area was going to be shut down. Co-workers, people you considered friends for years, were suddenly watching your every movement because we were encouraged to report abuses of company time or possible misconduct." She shifts into a stuffy corporate big wig impression that comes off as more Richard Nixon, "Lloyd Laboratories cares about each and every one of you. Now we need you to care just as much about Lloyd Laboratories. When one of us acts like James did, it reflects poorly on all of us. See something, say something." She mockingly salutes and rolls her eyes.

"The whole time we had Martha Bradford constantly hanging around and calling people down for surprise meetings. She's some useless corporate executive. No mind for science and yet she thinks she can tell us how to do our jobs. Give me a break. It was a huge relief when she finally brought in Paige Marshall. I mean, Paige is no fun at all to be around, but at least I didn't have to look over my shoulder once she was in charge. Paige is just one of those no nonsense, focus on your work and nothing else kind of people. She didn't want anything to do with company politics and certainly didn't want to rock the boat in any way. The perfect stooge. Did you even bother bringing up the issue with her, Lang?"
Nov 3, 2020 8:29 pm
"My grandmother's name was Martha. I adored that woman. Not sure I'll ever forgive Martha Bradford for sharing a name with her," Lang says with distaste, more as an aside. "I met with Paige a couple of times. She asked me if I'd been close to James. I mentioned that I enjoyed working with him, and he always enjoyed his job and the city. Hard to believe that he'd have requested a transfer."

He turns to Alicia, chewing on his lower lip. "I might have suggested that there was something fishy going on. Not come right out and say it, but..."

Lang covers his eyes with one hand. "Oh my god, do you think James took the fall for us? And I gave it all away talking to Paige?" Elbows on the table, he sinks his head into his hands, deflating before your eyes.
Nov 3, 2020 8:40 pm
Seeing that her (potential) client is about to lose emotional cohesion, Thalia tries to strike the right balance between compassion and efficiency, hoping to pull him away from abyss' edge.

"Dr. Thomason, it sounds to me as if you behaved in a reasonable manner, doing and saying the same things most people in your position would do and say. How others chose to respond is entirely their own responsibility. Now," and she refers again to her notes, not out of necessity but to emphasize the "business meeting" nature of this encounter and to drive his mind back toward providing her with an overview of the case, "James left, Martha Bradford seemed to be taking over, then Paige Marshall came in. What happened after that?"
Nov 3, 2020 9:26 pm
Lang gathers himself, looking up again. He's clearly forcing himself to hold it together. The cracks are all too evident, but he's not falling apart just yet. "Somebody started following me, back and forth on my way to work. I didn't notice it at first, of course, but I am trained to see patterns in data, so when I started seeing the same grey sedan every day, it got me paying attention. It wasn't always in the same place, and it wasn't always the same time of day. Wasn't even always the same license plate, actually, but I swear it was the same car. Sometimes it'd show up at night, while I was on my way to the grocery store."
Nov 3, 2020 9:31 pm
"That must have been unnerving. The car never did more than follow you, though? No cutting you off in traffic, trying to intimidate you on the road, that sort of thing?"

Once he answers this question, she'll continue, asking, "How long did this go on before things escalated?"
Nov 6, 2020 11:14 pm
"Nothing like that," says Lang. "I always got the feeling that they were just tracking me, whoever it was. Like... figuring out which way I drove to work. What grocery store I shopped at, what gas station I usually used."

Lang pokes at his now-empty pie plate with the flat of his fork, absently squishing bits of crust between the tines and putting them in his mouth. "It went on for a couple of weeks, and then I didn't see it at all for a couple days before the crash."

He taps the fork lightly against the table, then sets it down on the plate. "She was driving my car. Hers was in the shop that day, and I had to finish some reports for work, so she took Jack to the library in my car instead. I'm sure it was me they were targeting, Ms. Trimble. It just so happened that it wasn't actually me in the car."

He says this clinically, as you might expect a scientist to speak, giving the details of the latest chemical synthesis to a room full of suits.
Nov 7, 2020 12:25 am
Thalia really wants to express her condolences here, wants to reach out and touch his hand to show him that she feels for his loss. She does none of that, because that's not why he'd come to her, and it would be counter-productive. She needs to keep him in the right headspace to give her information she'll need if she's going to investigate this accident.

"Regarding the accident, what did the cops say? Were there witnesses, evidence? And do you have a copy of the police report?"
Nov 9, 2020 10:21 pm
"I do, for all the good it will do you," replies Lang darkly.

He goes on to describe the indisputable facts in a rote, clinical manner. Saturday, around 1:30 in the afternoon, the car carrying Liesl and Jack Thomason, traveling southbound, ran a red light on a busy downtown intersection. The car was hit by a westbound semi truck, striking the driver's side and sending it spinning into the center of the intersection, where it was hit again by eastbound traffic. Paramedics arrived on the scene soon after, but both occupants of the vehicle were pronounced dead at the scene. No other fatalities were reported, though two other drivers were treated at the hospital and released soon after.

"What the police report doesn't cover could fill an entire lab notebook," he goes on. "How fast was the car traveling? Did it try to stop before entering the intersection? Was the traffic light working properly? My wife was an incredibly safe driver, Ms. Trimble. I used to tease her about driving five miles an hour under the speed limit, even though she was German and ought to drive like she's on the Autobahn."

He throws his hands in the air. "In the police report, it's just her fault for running the red light. Case closed."
Nov 13, 2020 7:24 pm
Alicia, anticipating Thalia's next question, slides a manilla folder toward her, a copy of the police report contained within. Thalia reads through it quickly, not that even a careful reading would take very long; Lang's right, there's precious little detail or evidence of investigation.

She pretends to read for a little longer than she actually needs to so she can properly formulate what to say next. Lang's emotional stability is clearly precarious, and she doesn't want to add to his burden by carelessly triggering a meltdown.

Replacing the report and closing the folder, Thalia looks up at Lang. "I agree that it appears that the investigation of the accident was cursory, and that's being generous. On its own, that doesn't necessarily mean anything except the SEPD dropped the ball and
possibly assigned the blame for the accident to the victim incorrectly."
She pauses just a moment; long enough to let it sink in, but not long enough for him to start preparing a defensive rebuttal.

"I understand why you're convinced that being followed by the same car for two weeks is related, and that someone trying to target you inadvertently targeted your family instead. And I'm not saying you're wrong. I will tell you upfront that there is very little here to justify the expense of a private investigation. There are no witness statements here, no conflicting stories about who was at fault, and most significantly, no mention of the car that you saw tailing you in the weeks prior to the accident.

"What that means is, any investigation I would make would be starting from scratch. I'll have to track down the paramedics who came to the scene, try to cobble together a list of possible witnesses from any random security camera footage near the accident scene and track those people down. That's assuming I can find them, they're willing to talk to me, and they actually remember enough to be helpful. And that's not even touching how difficult it's going to be to prove that you were even being followed in the first place."


Alicia is gearing up to respond, but Thalia holds up a hand just slightly to indicate there's more to come. "All of that said, I'm willing to take on this case, if you want to move forward. I just wanted all the cards on the table about how much is stacked against us, and how expensive it's likely to be, unless we just happen to get really lucky with all those steps I've mentioned. And in the end... I may not even find anything that will tie your stalker car to the accident in any concrete way."

She puts both hands on the table, lacing her fingers. "But I'm willing to try. I do have a network of contacts and some resources that might give me a leg up on this case. I just want you to be very clear on the fact that I can't guarantee I'll find what you're looking for. And of course, if your theory is actually correct, we could be kicking a hornet's nest."
Last edited November 13, 2020 11:35 pm
Nov 13, 2020 11:31 pm
Lang turns to look at Alicia, then back to Thalia. "Ms. Trimble. Thalia. I... don't have a whole lot else. Alicia has been helping me keep it together, and she's been great, but it's not fair to her to ask her to continue running my life. Maybe you don't find anything else, and it really was just an accident. Or so well covered up that it might as well have been. That would at least give me some closure," he says, his eyes tightening.

"But if you do find something, and it's a hornet's nest we end up kicking... I'd rather know. I'd rather be able to do something than this... this... sense that I'm spending my days sitting in slowly hardening concrete. If you're willing to do it, I'll pay whatever it takes."
Nov 13, 2020 11:44 pm
Studying him, Thalia isn't completely convinced that this is really the best thing for Lang, mental health-wise. But judging by the level of obsessive determination she's reading in him, if she turns him down, Alicia will provide him with the next name down on the list she has undoubtedly put together, and... well, frankly, there are a lot of investigators out there who aren't great with delicate cases like this that require a lot of tricky maneuvering and finesse. If Lang ended up with someone who wasn't a good fit for this case, things could end up very messy for all concerned.

And hey - this is what she does.

"All right," she says, grabbing a file folder of her own from her bag and opening it up. She places it on the table, facing Lang and Alicia. "This is my standard contract. You can take it home and look it over, or have your attorney okay it first. My retainer and fee schedule is on page two."
Nov 13, 2020 11:52 pm
Lang is already reaching for it, though his hand pauses as Thalia speaks. "My attorney. Right. I'll get old Dewey, Cheatham and Howe on it right away," he says with a short laugh as he takes the folder and begins scanning the contract.

He angles it so that Alicia can also see it, but he doesn't wait for her to catch up before he moves on to page two. His eyebrows dart up, and he raises his eyes to look over the top of the folder at Thalia. "You weren't kidding about it being expensive."
Nov 14, 2020 12:02 am
She chuckles, smiling. "I try to prepare people for it, and it still surprises them. But yes, I was serious. What I do takes a lot of leg work, but it also requires... creativity. I have to use a lot of imagination to overcome unexpected obstacles, and sometimes that means throwing money at them. And of course, my fees reflect the contacts and specialized areas of knowledge I've built up over the course of my practice."

She takes a bite - her first so far - of her banana cream pie. So good. "But even so, my rates are pretty competitive. I aim to be compensated according to my competence, not to gouge people."

Rolls

Discern the Truth and Anticipate Actions - (1d6)

(4) = 4

Nov 14, 2020 1:09 am
As she enjoys the banana cream pie, Thalia takes a look around the diner. It was sparsely populated when she arrived and it has cleared out even more now. The young couple appears to have finished up and left mid meal. Their food is only half eaten and you think you see a jacket they left behind. Odd behavior in general, but even more so when you glance outside.

The sky has darkened considerably. Thick grey clouds block out the sun, but it has not yet started raining. It looks like the breeze has picked up as well. There is no doubt that a storm is coming.

The only remaining patron in this area is the elderly man that was here with his wife and grandson. He is now alone. There is no sign that anyone else was ever with him at all. The high chair is gone from the end of the table. There are no plates or drinks on the table at all, despite you distinctly remembering them all enjoying ice cream just before Lang and Alicia arrived.

You study the man a minute longer while Lang reads over the contract. Wasn’t he wearing khaki pants and a wool sweater before? You find it hard to believe you could remember his appearance so incorrectly. His dark three piece suit is very distinctive, and you are unsure how you missed the bowler hat laid out on the table.

The man stares dead ahead at the other side of his booth. He is unnervingly motionless. Almost like a wax figure.

"Do you have any kind of payment plan options?" Alicia brings your attention back to the table. "Obviously a retainer is required now, but there is no telling how long an investigation like this could take or how much this could end up costing in the end."
Nov 14, 2020 1:42 am
"Hm?" The effort to tear her attention away from the quick-change artist in that other booth is greater than it should be, but Thalia manages finally to look at Alicia and play back her question in her head. "Payment plans, yes. Page three has three different options. I have also been known to renegotiate to more favorable terms once a history of payment compliance has been established.

"Basically, if the case is going somewhere and you've been holding up your end, I'm not going to walk away and leave you hanging. If money becomes a problem, we'll work something out. I've even been known to barter services, if it comes to it."


She can't help glancing back at that strange guy across the room, and again out the window. "Was a storm predicted today? I can't believe I hadn't heard about it."
Nov 14, 2020 5:01 am
Lang sees Thalia’s attention wander, and he follows her look over his shoulder at the curiously empty room. "Is it closing time already?" He frowns curiously at the changing weather outside. "I thought the paper said it was going to stay clear overnight. Who knows with the weather?"

He goes back to looking over the contract, turning curiously to page three.
Nov 14, 2020 11:53 pm
The man across the diner finally moves. He lets one hand rest upon the table and starts to rhythmically tap four fingers, one by one. He does it again and again. The sound of it seems to carry all the way to your table as if it has been magnified. Just as suddenly as he started, he stops. At that very same moment a strike of lighting lights up the sky. It is followed by a thunderous crack that rattles the windows. The sky opens up. The few people that remain on the street run for cover from the oppressively heavy rainfall. Yet no one makes way for the diner. Even those that were right outside its doors when the rain started.

1 - 2 - 3 - 4. Fingers start taping again. Much closer this time. You both turn to look at Alicia. Her eyes are wide and focused far away, yet at nothing in particular, as her fingers tap out that rhythm on the table. "Thank you for the meeting, Thalia*. I will let you and the Alchemist finish up your discussion." She practically crawls over Lang to escape the booth and starts walking toward the door.
OOC:
*Alicia pronounced Thalia as Thal-ya
Nov 15, 2020 12:01 am
"It's Tuh-LEE-uh," Thalia says automatically, then, "What? Wait, who's 'the Alchemist? Where are you-- Where's she going?'"

The last part is addressed to Lang.
Nov 16, 2020 3:48 am
Alicia, in her haste to get out of the booth, knocks the contract out of Lang's hand, and he scrambles to try and make room for her to get out.

"Alicia, what... hey! Ow! What the heck are you..."

She elbows him in the jaw, and he's squished awkwardly up against the seat back. As she clears the booth, Lang rearranges his limbs and glasses and starts processing what's going on. It ain't easy.

"I'm a... chemist. Nobody's an alchemist, unless they're completely off their rocker."

He clambers to his feet and starts after Alicia. "Leesh, what's going on? Where are you going? It's pouring down rain outside!"
Nov 18, 2020 12:58 am
Alicia doesn’t respond. She keeps walking at a steady pace right out the door and into the rain. You watch in shock and confusion as she casually strides across the street through the torrential rainstorm while making no attempt to even shield herself from the rain. When she reaches the car, Alicia takes her seat and stares out the front window with a blank expression on her face.

"Another young lady gets away from Dr. Thomason." The old man has stopped tapping on the table that you are now standing right next to. He turns to you and gives you a smile that is both pleasant and unnerving.

Despite all the strangeness happening elsewhere, Thalia is mostly fixated on the strangeness happening within her booth. She is looking down at the contract that was knocked out of Lang’s hand as Alicia fled. She picks it up and flips through one blank page after another. All of the notes she has taken on the case are gone as well. She flips through every page just to make sure but the notebook has nothing of what she wrote during this meeting.
Nov 18, 2020 3:14 am
griffrpg says:
Despite all the strangeness happening elsewhere, Thalia is mostly fixated on the strangeness happening within her booth. She is looking down at the contract that was knocked out of Lang’s hand as Alicia fled. She picks it up and flips through one blank page after another. All of the notes she has taken on the case are gone as well. She flips through every page just to make sure but the notebook has nothing of what she wrote during this meeting.
"What... what's going on?" Thalia's voice is a strangled whisper. She'd taken lots of notes, meticulous ones. She doesn't doubt that, even with the evidence to the contrary staring her in the face, because it's what she always does during a meeting. It's part of her process; getting everything down in writing is deeply ingrained in the way she approaches her work.

Her heart is hammering in her chest, the blood whooshing in her head. She looks up to see Lang standing by the booth where the weirdo with the stupid hat is sitting. "What's going on?" she repeats, loudly this time. She means to be forceful and challenging, but there's more tremor in her voice than she'd like. She slides out of the booth and starts to approach Lang's position.
Nov 18, 2020 7:00 pm
Lang is still staring out the door at Alicia when the old man speaks. He responds absently, his face bent into a mask of confusion and hurt and... well, double confusion. Maybe even triple.

"Yeah, that's nothing new...

Slow to catch on to the fact that the man's addressing him by name, he does a double-take and whirls on the man. "Wait... how do you know who I am?" Confusion turns to suspicion and anger. Having just recounted the painful events of the past few months, he jumps to what seems a perfectly logical conclusion. "Who are you? Are you from Lloyd? You come to finish me off too?" he snaps.
Nov 18, 2020 11:03 pm
The smile fades from the old man’s face. He reaches into his jacket and your pulse starts to quicken as you prepare yourself for the end. He pulls his hand back out and holds it out like a gun. "Bang!" He drops the thumb on his finger pistol and laughs. "Have a seat, Lang." He indicates the other side of the booth across from him.

Thalia takes a few steps before it hits her. It feels like her muscles are made of lead. It takes everything she has just to lift her foot from the ground and move forward a few inches. She might as well be wading through a pool filled with molasses.

"No, I’m not from Lloyd Laboratories, Lang. I do love that that is where your mind went though. Science was never my forte and I sometimes make mistakes with your kind. I'm glad to see I was right after all. I knew you had that drive deep down inside you somewhere."

The man tips his hat up so Lang can get a real good look at his face. The rubber like skin stretched so far it looks like it is going to tear. The man gives off an aura of a trustworthy grandpa mixed with the Devil himself.

"You want revenge for what Lloyd did to you. They took away everything you ever cared about. So why are you here? Why are you entrusting this task to someone else when you know that you are more than capable of taking care of it on your own. Well maybe not on your own, but we’ll get to that. Why are you doubting yourself, Lang? Is it the tights? Because those aren't mandatory; as much as the Warden would like them to be." He rolls his eyes.

Thalia’s muscles return to normal all at once. The sudden shift in ease of movement causes her to fall flat on her face and she continues to slide across the linoleum. She squeaks across the floor before coming to a stop right at the old man’s feet. He looks down at her like she is a bug that he is about to squish.

"So it is pronounced, Thalia? Good to know. I suppose you can join us as well." There is considerable amounts of annoyance in his voice. He looks at you with curiosity. "I do have a few questions for you, but I believe Lang is first on the menu."
Nov 19, 2020 5:01 am
Lang's eyes widen as the man shows his face and he has to bite down on his lip to keep from screaming. He tries to back away, but finds that he's rooted to the spot.

"What are you talking about?" he says, not much more than a whisper. "Take care of it on my own? Of the accident? The cover up? I'm no detective. Alicia was help-- oh my god, Alicia! What did you do to Alicia?"

As Thalia arrives (is forced to arrive?), he drops to his knees, one hand on her shoulder, one offered in assistance. "Thalia? Are you all right?" He looks up at the rubber-faced... man isn't the right word, but it's the only one he can summon. "Why are you doing this? HOW are you doing this?"
Last edited November 19, 2020 5:06 am
Nov 19, 2020 5:14 am
Thalia feels so far out of her element that she couldn't find it with a periodic table. She accepts Lang's assistance to get to her feet, nodding vaguely to answer his question. She's breathing hard and fast, and it has little to do with the exertion of trying to get through... whatever this old guy had done to her just now.
griffrpg says:
"So it is pronounced, Thalia? Good to know. I suppose you can join us as well." There is considerable amounts of annoyance in his voice. He looks at you with curiosity. "I do have a few questions for you, but I believe Lang is first on the menu."
She can't even fathom what is going on, but she takes his use of "on the menu" as a threat against her client. Her not-yet-client. Her client-to-be.

Okay, an innocent man in need of help who's already been victimized terribly.

She steps in front of Lang, driving him back a step or two from the booth. "This man is under my protection."

She waits a beat and thinks, I really just said that. Yep, that's a thing that I said. So glad Cyn isn't here for this.
Last edited November 19, 2020 5:32 am
Nov 20, 2020 12:27 am
The elderly man sits patiently as Lang riddles off question after question. A wide smile spreads across his face when Thalia comes to Lang’s defense. "You should really be taking notes, Lang. This is exactly how I want you to be acting from here on out. Now please have a seat. Both of you."

You seemingly have no choice. Your legs carry you forward no matter how hard to try to fight. Lang slides into the booth first, followed by Thalia. "That’s better. Now we can have a civilized conversation like adults. And don’t worry about Alicia. She’s doing just fine." He turns his head to look out the window and both of you follow his gaze.

Across the street Alicia has turned to face the diner. A sickeningly wide smile is plastered across her face as she excitedly waves to you. "See. Just great." He snaps to get your attention back to the booth, but out of the corner of your eye you can tell that Alicia is still manically waving.

The man gets serious and leans forward. His eyes lock with Lang and he says, "Look me in the eyes and tell me you’ve never wanted to be a superhero. Tell me you’ve never dreamed about running around at night in a costume and bringing evil to justice. Saving the damsel in distress! Using science to make the world a better place! Tell me Lang! If you’ve never had any of these desires then we’ll stop this discussion right here. Just like that. You can go outside and get in Alicia’s car" she is still waving like a crazy person "and we’ll act like we never had this conversation. But you can’t do that, can you? You know you want all of those things. You were born to be a superhero. It is your destiny."

His voice becomes magnified as if it were echoing from a loudspeaker. "Ladies and gentlemen, I proudly present--" He spreads his arms wide and claps his hands together. Thunder cracks and lighting strikes just outside the window. For a split second Thalia sees Lang in full costume. By the time she blinks, he is back to normal. "THE ALCHEMIST!!!" Cheers from unseen spectators roar deafeningly for a solid 10 seconds before the man snaps his fingers and they suddenly stop.
Nov 23, 2020 7:45 pm
Lang looks around in confusion as the cheers sound. Actually, it's not just confusion. It's fear at finding himself completely unmoored from reality. Fear of what inexplicable power this inexplicable man has over time and space. Fear of just how distressingly accurate his words are.

"This is the most ridiculous thing I've heard, and I work with some pretty outrageously delusional people," Lang says aloud. "I'm a chemist. Sometimes a good one. I'm no superhero. I'm out of shape and absent-minded. I just want to know what happened to my wife and son. And I want those responsible to face the justice they deserve. No one should ever have to go through what I went through and never get the answers they deserve."

The longer he goes on, the angrier his voice gets. His fists clench at his sides with increasingly impotent fury.

"For you to stand -- okay, sit there -- and mock me like this, who knows HOW you're doing it, I... I..."

His shoulders slump.

"I can't do a god-damned thing about it. And it makes me sick to my stomach."
Nov 24, 2020 12:51 am
The man across the table from you eats up every word you are saying. As you get madder, his smile widens. It is not your rage that excites him. That is clear, somehow. It all vanishes, however, when your shoulders slump and you admit you can’t do anything about it.

His head drops and he sighs. He brings his gaze back up to you after sulking for a moment. This time he wears a tired expression. "You are selling yourself short, Lang. Didn’t you feel it just now? The power surging inside yourself? You are fueled by the need for justice. The greatest superpowers in the universe are no match for that. And on top of this gift, you have that big ol’ juicy brain. Smarts mixed with determination and a reason to fight the good fight. You got it all, baby."

His eyes flick over to Thalia. He nods his head in her direction and talks about her as if she is an inanimate object. "Look at this woman, Lang. Just another nobody like you. Sure, she’s got some skills and some know how, but no superpowers to speak of. She doesn’t let that stand in the way of doing what is right. She stood up for you. For you! A pathetic little man she just met who currently isn’t even willing to stand up for his slaughtered wife and child. If she can find it in herself to do that with no tangible benefit to be gained from the act, imagine what your amazing brain can muster up knowing that justice for your family is on the line."

Thalia’s power does not detect any attempt at deception in what this man has said about her. It is clear he does not know about her powers. He is seeming omniscient about every fact of Lang’s life, but has now made two clear mistakes in regard to Thalia. How to pronounce her name, and the fact that she actually does possess a superpower.

The man’s gaze remains focused on Lang as if he is all that matters in the world. He brings his hands together on the table and leans forward in eager anticipation of what he has to say. It is as if the rest of the world is background noise to him right now. All that matters to him right now is Langford Thomason.
Nov 24, 2020 7:06 am
As Thalia's fear and panic begin to recede and she begins to actually think again, she takes note of the disparity between this strange man's seeming omnipotence and his incomplete knowledge of Thalia, including his apparent ignorance of her superpower. Well, Cyn calls it a superpower; Thalia thinks it's a bit anemic for that label... but it is definitely not a natural ability that other people have.

If, as he's suggesting, Lang is a dormant superhero, that suggests this guy can spot such people. But not, it seems, Thalia.

"Hey, quick question," she says, forcing herself back onto his radar. "If I'm just a mortal plebe, the equivalent of dirt on the sole of your shoe, why am I awake and witnessing this little meet and greet? Why didn't you just animatronic me like you did Alicia and the rest of the customers?"
Last edited November 24, 2020 7:07 am
Nov 24, 2020 10:13 pm
griffrpg says:
"Look at this woman, Lang. Just another nobody like you. Sure, she’s got some skills and some know how, but no superpowers to speak of. She doesn’t let that stand in the way of doing what is right. She stood up for you. For you! A pathetic little man she just met who currently isn’t even willing to stand up for his slaughtered wife and child. If she can find it in herself to do that with no tangible benefit to be gained from the act, imagine what your amazing brain can muster up knowing that justice for your family is on the line."
"Look, you can go straight to whatever hell you crawled out of if you think for a second I'm not willing to stand up for my wife and child," snarls Lang. "I am doing all that I can within the confines of the law. If I go outside that, I am no better than the bastards that made this happen. You say I can be a superhero? Fine. Prove it."
moonbeam says:
"Hey, quick question," she says, forcing herself back onto his radar. "If I'm just a mortal plebe, the equivalent of dirt on the sole of your shoe, why am I awake and witnessing this little meet and greet? Why didn't you just animatronic me like you did Alicia and the rest of the customers?"
"Yeah, Mr. All-Knowing Weirdo. Let's have a little more information and a few less insults."
Nov 25, 2020 12:50 am
A wide range of emotions flash across his face. His eyes flicker back and forth between the two of you and it is obvious the wheels are turning up stairs on some sort of plan. When he speaks, he is quiet and calm. "Maybe I allowed you to stay because I thought you would be a good example for the Doctor." Thalia can easily pick up that this is a lie he made up on the spot. "But seeing as you have had no positive effect on his reception of what I have to say, I guess I’ll have to find another use for you."

Thalia opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out. Her eyes bulge and her hands reach up to clutch at her chest. Her veins thicken and are easily visible as they start to glow a sharp red color. She collapses onto the table in a fit of convulsions.

This is especially odd for Thalia to witness. It isn’t every day that you see yourself struggle so desperately; all in the third person no less. The real Thalia finds herself back in the booth on the other side of the diner where the meeting with Lang and Alicia started. The elderly man is also seated across from her here, even though she can see him standing up from the other booth and walking over to Lang.

"You seem to have me at a disadvantage, Thalia," the version sitting across from her says. He pronounces her name correctly this time. "I am sorry, but all my prep was for Dr. Thomason. Please tell me about yourself." He gives you a pleasant smile.

Lang is unaware of any of this. His version of Thalia still struggles to take each breath as the poison in her veins spreads farther and farther. A chemistry set materializes on top of the table just as the old man is placing a hand on Lang’s shoulder. "Only you can save her, Lang. Do you recognize the affliction?" He does, but only from a description in the newspaper. It resembles an alien virus that broke out across San Espero a few years ago. Angelo Cortex saved the city by quickly developing an easy to make antidote that he was able to disperse over the city as a gas. "The Warden was no use when this nasty bug came to town. You cannot punch a poisonous virus from someone's veins. It took brains just like yours to save the city. Time to step up to the plate, Lang."
Dice Pool Limit: 7

Threat Rating
Mix the Antidote: 3
Thwart Mortimer's Control: 3
OOC:
Lang cannot see or hear the real Thalia at the moment. The real Thalia is free to move about the diner, but if she tries to interact with Lang she will ghost through him. Thalia may attempt to thwart Mortimer and provide emotional/moral support to Lang that somehow breaks through the barrier Mortimer has set up. Thalia's first 3 successful rolls would go to the Thwart Mortimer threat rating, but any more successes would assist Lang's attempt at making the antidote.
Nov 25, 2020 1:58 am
Thalia gapes at the elderly man - the one sitting across from her - and says, "I... Who even are you? What do you want from us? Look-- just leave Lang alone. Please. The guy has been through hell. I mean, you obviously know that already. Why torture him like this? Oh... arrrgh!"

She grabs her notebook and pen, writing furiously for a moment as the bowler bozo watches in apparent fascination.

She tears the note out of the book and bolts from the booth, heading toward Lang and her fake, dying doppelganger. She assumes that Lang won't be able to see her, and that's confirmed when she yells his name and waves her hand in front of his face. She tries waving the note in front of him, but that gets her nowhere, too.

Shaking her head and sending a dagger-y look at Bowler Bozo, she slams the note down on the table, next to the chemicals.

Lang - This is an illusion. I'm out of phase, or a spirit, or something. This me isn't the REAL me. Do what you have to do, but I'm FINE.

Thalia

P.S. I have my own personal Hat Guy, too


She stands next to him, waiting for him to read the note. She takes the opportunity to glare at the nearer version of Bowler Bozo while she's at it.

Rolls

I'm standing right here - (7d6)

(1324214) = 17

Nov 26, 2020 6:12 am
Lang’s initial reaction (well, reactions plural) is panic, worry, terror, fury... too many to fit on just one face.

"What the hell is wrong with you, you sadistic freak?" he yells as he dives for the chemicals, running a quick inventory of what’s available. He grabs a pad and pen that one of the waitresses must have left behind when the restaurant emptied and starts scribbling chemical structures and arrows. "For the love of Pete, volatile antivirals don’t just synthesize themselves. It’s a terrible delivery vector for just one patient anyway. Diels-Alder there... no no no. Has to be an aldol condensation, no way a Grignard works with all this moisture around..."

He’d started out griping at Bowler Hat, but now he’s only talking to himself, scribbling more synthetic schemes on the pad with remarkable speed. That’s when the note appears out of seemingly thin air. He startles, reading it quickly. He relaxes a little, but he’s got the bug now. His intellectual curiosity is piqued now, but the lack of need to save Thalia’s life right now makes it easier to focus.

"Gimme that glass. And your spoon. What I wouldn’t give for some trifluoroacetic acid right now. None of these acids have a reasonable pKa."

He mixes some powders on a saucer, mashing them to a fine dust with the back of a spoon, and adds them to the glass with a few milliliters of various solvents, stirring and adding a few other things. A few bubbles rise, and the solution turns a very faint yellow. "Conjugation for the win, baby. Ain’t too many chemists that can do that with a chemistry set you could buy in a toy store, my friend."

He swirls the glass around a few times, then helps the fake Thalia drink it down.

Rolls

Superhero Synthesis! - (7d6)

(6315235) = 25

Nov 26, 2020 5:27 pm
The elderly man watches Thalia with much curiosity. He does not respond to her question but he also makes no attempts to stop her actions. He seems genuinely interested in seeing how her plan works out. When she manages to find a way around his constraints, the version of him in the far off booth is actually impressed. He vanishes from the booth and repairs directly behind Thalia, so she is now flanked by two Hat Men.

"You know it would have been much more meaningful if he had done it without your help," the one behind her says, for only her ears. If she turns to look at him, he is no longer there.

The Hat Man Thalia is glaring at turns to meet her eyes. "You should really learn to mind your own business." He snaps and Thalia is now back in the booth. She is the one that is poisoned now. She can feel it burning through her veins. Thankfully, by this time Lang is already finished with the antidote and is moving to administer it. With each passing second, the pain subsides further and further. It falls from agonizing torture to a dull ache in less than a minute, but the memory of that pain will stick with her forever. Unless of course this whole event happens to get stricken from her memory for some reason.
78RPMLife says:
"Conjugation for the win, baby. Ain’t too many chemists that can do that with a chemistry set you could buy in a toy store, my friend."
"My thoughts exactly, Dr. Thomason. That is but one example of how you are capable of greatness. Imagine what you could accomplish if you devoted yourself fully to the endeavor. Don’t sell yourself short. That brain of yours can solve any problem."

Ding, ding! The bell on the front door jingles as a panicked man comes running through. He has a square of PVC pipes around his neck. It is not tight enough to strangle the man, but is too tight to pull it over his head. When he sees you he comes running over and begs Lang to help him.

Now that he is up close you can see more of the device around his neck. There is a digital readout which displays the number 70. As you are looking at it, it ticks up to 71 but seems to stop there for the time being. On either side of the digital display are numbers and a symbol. To the left is what looks like a drawing of the square device itself, but one side is open and the number 60 is written in blue. To the right is a cartoon-like drawing of an explosion and the number 75 written in red.

"You gotta help me! Some guy attached this bomb to me at gunpoint. I don’t know what to do," he pleads with Lang to help him.

Thalia finds herself unable to move from her position. The pain from the virus is gone, but her feet feel like they are glued to the floor. The elderly man appears uninterested in Lang and the man with the bomb around his neck. A holographic display of words and statistics is floating in the air before him. He uses his hand to scroll through it.

The name at the top says "Thalia Trimble." Below that is a very long list of attributes and skills along with a numerical value between 1 and 10 given to each. A short paragraph under the header "Powers" explains exactly how her abilities work. This is followed by a shocking detailed and accurate bio, which the old man quickly reads over before dismissing the display. "Another minor anomaly," he quietly says with a mixture of worry and annoyance.
Nov 26, 2020 6:47 pm
Struggling against the magical force preventing her from getting up to help Lang with the bomb, Thalia growls in frustration and directs her ire at the Bowler Bozo.

"Why are you doing this? You're torturing people, and for what? Your own amusement? It's despicable, it's-- wait, what's that?" She squints at the holographic display he's reading. Inexplicably, it's entirely legible to her even though they're reading it from opposite sides of the table. "Where did all that information come from? How did you... Who ARE you? Why-- anomaly? What anomaly?"
Last edited November 26, 2020 7:00 pm
Nov 27, 2020 11:54 pm
"I do find it amusing, but that is hardly the point. And I wouldn’t call it torture, exactly. Motivation is more accurate. Some people need a little push to set them down the correct path."

He looks delighted at your interest in what he was reading. "So inquisitive. Do you realize you’ve asked me 18 questions in the last 3 minutes? I’ll admit; with your skills and determination, I’m tempted to set you down a similar path to Lang’s. But superheroes are men and women of action. They don’t have time to ask questions and follow clues. No, my dear, I am sorry. You are doing what you were meant to do."

He reaches forward to put a hand on yours. "There’s no shame in being a simple detective. A damn good one by the looks of it. Although we can’t give you all the credit. That little gift of yours must come in handy in your chosen line of work." He winks. "Don’t worry. I’ll let you keep it and will even keep the secret safe." He mimes zipping his lips.

"I may not have given you that power, but you sure have set out to maximize its use. Good on you." He lowers his voice to a whisper and points in Lang’s direction as he says "Now if only we could get a certain someone to do the same."
Nov 28, 2020 3:16 am
Thalia stares at Bowler Bozo with the same expression she used on the guy who'd tried to mug her last week and then, after she'd kicked his ass, asked for her phone number. "Gee, thanks. I've been absolutely dying for some random demon to approve of my career choice. What do you mean, you'll 'let me keep' my gift? How could you possibly-- You talk like you're... God, or something."
Nov 30, 2020 10:23 pm
griffrpg says:
"My thoughts exactly, Dr. Thomason. That is but one example of how you are capable of greatness. Imagine what you could accomplish if you devoted yourself fully to the endeavor. Don’t sell yourself short. That brain of yours can solve any problem."

Ding, ding! The bell on the front door jingles as a panicked man comes running through. He has a square of PVC pipes around his neck. It is not tight enough to strangle the man, but is too tight to pull it over his head. When he sees you he comes running over and begs Lang to help him.

Now that he is up close you can see more of the device around his neck. There is a digital readout which displays the number 70. As you are looking at it, it ticks up to 71 but seems to stop there for the time being. On either side of the digital display are numbers and a symbol. To the left is what looks like a drawing of the square device itself, but one side is open and the number 60 is written in blue. To the right is a cartoon-like drawing of an explosion and the number 75 written in red.

"You gotta help me! Some guy attached this bomb to me at gunpoint. I don’t know what to do," he pleads with Lang to help him.
Lang glares daggers at the Hat Man. "How much more of this sadistic nonsense do you need to put people through?" he growls through gritted teeth.

Turning back to the latest victim, he says, "We're going to get this figured out, don't worry." He looks over the device as quickly as he can, then takes the man by the shoulders and says seriously, "I'm going to have to open up the PVC. It's a quick chemical trick, shouldn't cause any trouble, okay?"

He turns back to the chemistry set on the table and mixes a few things together in one of the handful of test tubes. He draws some of the solution up into a Pasteur pipet, something like a long, skinny eyedropper, and carefully drops a bit of it at the elbow joint. Each drop rolls down the pipe along the edge of the elbow, thin curls of some sort of smoke rising from the trail. He repeats this a couple more times before he sets the pipet aside.

"Okay, I'm going to pull the joint apart to see what's inside. I need you to take deep breaths and try not to make any sudden movements, all right?"
Dec 1, 2020 12:02 am
Moonbeam says:
"How could you possibly-- You talk like you're... God, or something."
The man smiles and shrugs his shoulders. "If the shoe fits." He turns his attention to Lang and the man with the bomb around his neck just as Lang lashes out at him. "I’ve got no further appointments today, Dr. Thomason. We can keep this up as long as it takes for you to accept your destiny."

By now, everyone has broken out in a sweat. The number on the bomb necklace goes up again and now reads 72. "Whoa, man. I dunno if you should be messing with it like that. He said if I tried to force it...Oh man." The man with the bomb necklace tries to relax himself with a focused breathing exercise while you get to work.

The elderly man appears surprised at Lang’s chosen tactic. He leaves him alone to focus on the task at hand and turns back to Thalia. "I'm curious. If you were to put on a cape and join Langford on a quest to clean up the streets, what righteous name would you give yourself?"

Lang gets the end of the pipe open a small amount. Some of the hot smoke finds its way up and into the PVC pipe. The readout ticks up again to 73.

Lang is able to see that inside the PVC pipe is another smaller series of connected pipes. They too form a square that appears to go all the way around the inside, but this one is made of smaller metal piping. The kind you might see in a pipe bomb.

Further up you see a detonator is attached to the metal pipe. A set of wires run from the detonator to the digital display. Running from the display, you also see a second set of wires that connect to a thermometer.
Dec 1, 2020 12:17 am
griffrpg says:
"I'm curious. If you were to put on a cape and join Langford on a quest to clean up the streets, what righteous name would you give yourself?"
Thalia is starting to think that maybe this is all some sort of dream. No, not a dream - more like a drug trip. It occurs to her that someone might have slipped her something; maybe in the pie? Or perhaps she's been exposed to some kind of gas and she never made it to this appointment in the first place, and is imagining all of it.

Because while she was managing to believe, more or less, in the reality of the experience up to this point, her mind seems to have drawn the line at some godlike figure in a bowler hat asking her what her superhero name should be.

Surprising herself further, Thalia begins to laugh. It's more of a giggle, actually, but she tries not to dwell on that.

"Okay, this totally isn't really happening, but as drug-induced hallucinations go, this part's got to have something to do with Cyn. She's always trying to convince me to 'go full super,' and coming up with good superhero names for me is one of her favorite activities." She giggles again, resting her head against the back of the booth. "I think her latest 'perfect name' was... Kinesic. You know, after the study of nonverbal communication through body language and so forth. So yeah, I guess that's the name I'd use. I'd be Kinesic, Reader of Face and Body Language!"

She mimes holding a musical instrument to her lips and makes a comical trumpet-like fanfare noise.
Dec 1, 2020 11:52 pm
The giggle catches the old man completely off guard. For a moment, he forgets about Lang and gives Thalia his full undivided attention. "Cyn sounds like a lovely girl. Would you mind if I contacted her? I think she would make a great apprentice." He laughs and holds up his hands before you can respond. "I’m only joking. I’m irreplaceable."

He strokes his chin with his fingers. "Kinesic. It’s kind of a nerdy name. Ha! Pot calling the kettle black, am I right?"

Your memory starts to connect a couple of dots. Something about this man has been familiar ever since you saw the bowler hat. Only now are you able to recall who he reminds you of. You remember a small time super villain from the 60’s that dressed identical to him. Mortimer the Magnificent.

As best as you can recall, Mortimer was seen as more of a nuisance than a real threat. Something of an illusionist that liked to play tricks on the first generation of superheroes but almost never brought any real physical harm to anyone. Outside of a handful of appearances decades ago, he hasn't been seen. He more or less drifted off into obscurity.

Even back then Mortimer was a senior citizen. If you are right about who this man is, then he must easily be over 125 years old at this point.
Dec 2, 2020 12:04 am
Thalia leans forward, putting her arms on the table. She's still grinning, because this still can't be real. "Yes, Mortimer, calling anyone's name nerdy is kind of hypocritical. Okay, so what's the deal here? Is this supposed to be some kind of superhero audition? Like, America's Next Supe? Because I have to say, a grief-laden chemist and a woman who can read body language seem like C-list prospects."
Dec 2, 2020 9:10 pm
"Thermal..."

Whatever the bomb carrier is saying, it falls on deaf ears. Lang's too caught up in studying the entire setup. He traces the wiring with his eyes, one finger twirling in the air as though writing calculations in space.

"Gotta keep it cool!" he bursts out suddenly. The man starts, thinking that Lang's accusing him of not staying calm, but Lang quickly takes him by the shoulders. "It has to stay cold while I disarm it, that's what the thermometer's for! Come on, there's gotta be a walk-in fridge in a place like this."

Lang leads him back into the kitchen, scooping up the chemistry set as best he can along the way. There is indeed a walk-in fridge, though it's hardly big enough for the both of them.

"Okay, you're gonna have to trust me here. I don't know wiring, but I do know chemistry. I'm going to trick the detonator into thinking everything's still attached while I take it out so the bomb can't be set off."

He clicks his tongue as he studies his reagents, mixing a bright blue powder into solution and muttering something about a strong reducing agent. Slowly, he opens the contraption up to reveal the detonator and carefully lays several trails of the blue solution along the pipe, contacting the wires that lead into and out of the detonator.

As he starts to add a second solution, bright copper metal begins precipitating along the line of the first solution. There's a tiny bit of smoke, and Lang does his best not to wince. "Stupid exothermic reactions," he mutters, looking quickly at the readout to see if the temperature's going up too fast.
Dec 3, 2020 1:03 am
An idea comes to Lang and he rushes toward the kitchen with the walking bomb in tow. Thalia gets another chuckle out of Mortimer. "Do you want it to be an audition? Are you sore over not being picked? Truth be told, most of our futures are already written. Not in stone or anything, I’m afraid. It’s a bit more like... silly putty. Stretchy and malleable. Which introduces my problem. Sometimes those that are destined to be heroes get sidetracked. I’d love it if everyone could get there on their own time, but the world doesn’t work that way. If Lang isn’t ready soon, people are going to die as a result."

Mortimer reaches across the table and takes Thalia’s hands in his own. She becomes the recipient of a series of rapid fire visions. She sees Lang in his laboratory designing and testing the mutagens that grant him his powers. Then he is pulling the hood over his head and is in full costume. She watches as he uses his wide ranging mutagens to defeat foe after foe. He saves children from burning buildings. He turns his skin into diamond and steps in the way of a speeding car that is about to hit a dog. He uses super strength to hold a bridge up long enough for people to get off of it before it collapses. In the span of a minute, Thalia witnesses the Alchemist save hundreds of lives.
Lang holds his breath for a moment as he watches the digital readout. Instead of ticking up because of the heat from the reaction, it only continues to go down. It now reads 58. The cold air being blasted out from the overhead fan to keep this freezer cool is quickly getting the job done. Even with his solution adding a bit of heat to the mix, it is no problem for an industrial restaurant freezer.

Lang has no trouble finishing up and then carefully removing the detonator, rending the bomb inert. Through chattering teeth, the man wearing the bombs asks, "How’s it going in there, man?"
The sarcastic jovial tone is gone from Mortimer’s voice. He is deadly serious. "You may not approve of my methods, Thalia, but this is a necessary evil. This world needs Lang to become the Alchemist and it needs him now. If you think I am being too cruel, then by all means help me find another way to convince that man to don a cape and become who he was meant to be."
Dec 3, 2020 2:38 am
griffrpg says:
Thalia gets another chuckle out of Mortimer. "Do you want it to be an audition? Are you sore over not being picked? Truth be told, most of our futures are already written. Not in stone or anything, I’m afraid. It’s a bit more like... silly putty. Stretchy and malleable. Which introduces my problem. Sometimes those that are destined to be heroes get sidetracked. I’d love it if everyone could get there on their own time, but the world doesn’t work that way. If Lang isn’t ready soon, people are going to die as a result."

Mortimer reaches across the table and takes Thalia’s hands in his own. She becomes the recipient of a series of rapid fire visions. She sees Lang in his laboratory designing and testing the mutagens that grant him his powers. Then he is pulling the hood over his head and is in full costume. She watches as he uses his wide ranging mutagens to defeat foe after foe. He saves children from burning buildings. He turns his skin into diamond and steps in the way of a speeding car that is about to hit a dog. He uses super strength to hold a bridge up long enough for people to get off of it before it collapses. In the span of a minute, Thalia witnesses the Alchemist save hundreds of lives.

The sarcastic jovial tone is gone from Mortimer’s voice. He is deadly serious. "You may not approve of my methods, Thalia, but this is a necessary evil. This world needs Lang to become the Alchemist and it needs him now. If you think I am being too cruel, then by all means help me find another way to convince that man to don a cape and become who he was meant to be."
Thalia's breathing has become labored as she's subjected to the onslaught of mental images of Lang's heroics. She is no longer sure this is a dream or hallucination. She doesn't actually know what to think.

"You don't play fair, Mortimer," she says, her voice roughened by the rapid emotional extremes to which he's subjected her. "You yank us around like marionettes, you take people hostage to extort decisions from Lang, but you won't tell me who you are or why you're doing it. Yeah, I know, because if Lang doesn't become what you want him to become, people will die. Save it. I want to know how you know he's supposed to become the Alchemist in the first place. I want to know how you can control everything. I still don't know why you're letting me play a part in this weird drama, but if you really do need my help for this, then you could at least show me the consideration of explaining things."
Last edited December 3, 2020 2:44 am
Dec 4, 2020 11:20 pm
"I appreciate your recognition that you only want to know these things and do not actually need to know. Let’s be clear that the same word should apply to your assistance. I don’t need it. I simply want it. You are a tool that can make my job a little easier. If you choose to not take part, then we have nothing further to discuss. Assist me and I will let you turn over some of these cards."

Mortimer motions toward the table. You are unsure when they appeared but there are 5 playing cards in the center of the table. Each one has a question written upon it.

Who am I?
Why am I doing this?
How do I know Lang’s destiny?
How do I control everything?
Why are you letting me play a part in this weird drama?

"We both know you’re going to help me, so why draw this out? You’re not going to let innocent people die. You’re not going to walk out of here without satisfying your curiosity. Go convince Lang to accept his destiny and you can flip over any three cards of your choosing. If you have additional questions, add them to the pile. Pick three and I’ll tell you what you want to know." Your powers do not pick up on any deception or intent to back out of this deal.
Dec 4, 2020 11:58 pm
Thalia glances at the cards, then stares at Mortimer for a long moment. "Okay, just to recap: You have the godlike power to control space and time, move people around like chess pieces, and put innocents into life-threatening situations for the purpose of forcing someone to do something you want to see them do. Now, I don't understand why a being like you doesn't simply make Lang take on the supe mantle, but whatever. I guess this is some kind of game you play to amuse yourself. But from my perspective, you're asking me to convince Lang to become the Alchemist, or else you'll kill a bunch of innocent people for some reason. Because apparently, you're going to set up mass murders for the purpose of watching Lang try to stop them."

She shrugs. "It's clear I have no power to stop you from doing... well, anything you want, and neither does Lang, so I may as well go along with your little sub-game and get some questions answered. I just figured I'd point out some of the plot holes you might want to sew up for the next time."

She tests her ability to get up and leave the booth - looks like she can now - and makes her way behind the counter of the diner and into the back. Assuming Lang and the victim are in the freezer, she opens the door to find him freeing the poor guy from the bomb necklace. "Hey, good work - congratulations. So, I'm supposed to come and convince you that you need to become the Alchemist. I've been shown a bunch of images that show you saving a bunch of people from certain death in a variety of situations. I don't know the real story here, but I believe that you probably will save most of those people if you do what he says. But if I were you, I might ask one question before agreeing to his demand: with the kind of power he has, why do you even have the ability to refuse?"
Dec 7, 2020 8:20 pm
griffrpg says:
Lang holds his breath for a moment as he watches the digital readout. Instead of ticking up because of the heat from the reaction, it only continues to go down. It now reads 58. The cold air being blasted out from the overhead fan to keep this freezer cool is quickly getting the job done. Even with his solution adding a bit of heat to the mix, it is no problem for an industrial restaurant freezer.

Lang has no trouble finishing up and then carefully removing the detonator, rending the bomb inert. Through chattering teeth, the man wearing the bombs asks, "How’s it going in there, man?"
Lang holds up the detonator with a cheerful grin. "All done. You're free to go."

He starts helping the guy out of his PVC necklace, when he stops suddenly. "Unless you want this as a souvenir? No? Too soon?" he says, then gets back to work disassembling it. "Yeah, you're right. It's too soon."

The poor guy, now stuck between his overwhelming gratitude at no longer being in imminent danger of being blown to bits and his growing concern over the sanity of his savior, is moving toward the door as soon as Lang's got the contraption taken apart. "Thanks, man. That was some crazy chemistry shit you pulled there. You got some kinda super-brain to pull that off," he says. He pauses at the door to the freezer, looking at Lang in disbelief (and just a little bit of worry) for a long moment, then shakes himself out of it. "Seriously. Thanks."

That's when Thalia opens the door and scares the daylights (and a girly scream) out of him. Voice shaking, he says, "This place is... it's... I am outta here!"
moonbeam says:
"Hey, good work - congratulations. So, I'm supposed to come and convince you that you need to become the Alchemist. I've been shown a bunch of images that show you saving a bunch of people from certain death in a variety of situations. I don't know the real story here, but I believe that you probably will save most of those people if you do what he says. But if I were you, I might ask one question before agreeing to his demand: with the kind of power he has, why do you even have the ability to refuse?"
Lang tosses the detonator unit up and catching it casually in one hand. It's only when he starts to reply to Thalia that he starts to fumble it. In a sudden panic, he sets it gingerly on the nearby shelf, holding up his hands to tell it to stay put.

"I don't pretend to have any earthly idea what is going on here, Thalia, but... but maybe he's right. I mean, those were two serious kicks in the tush, and I... well, I knew what to do. Once I stopped thinking about why I couldn't and just focused on what had to be done."

He shakes his head slowly: amazement, fear, awe, excitement, worry all find their way into the prosaic expression. "If you don't mind my answering a question with a question -- Alicia would slap me -- I guess I'd say... does it even matter?"
Dec 7, 2020 8:28 pm
Thalia knows nothing of the bomb victim's doubts about Lang's sanity, but she's now entertaining her own. She looks at him with a frown, folding her arms. "You're right. Some all-powerful godlike dude in a bowler yanks us all around like puppets on strings, poisons one person and puts a bomb-yoke on another, all to force you to accept a destiny as a superhero. How could his reasons - and his potential limitations - possibly matter?

"Don't get me wrong - I'm glad that you've found this experience to be some kind of personal-growth milestone. But maybe spare a thought in that great big scientist brain of yours for the parts of this that make no sense?"
Dec 7, 2020 9:12 pm
"You sound disturbingly like Alicia," Lang replies. "Lemme explain myself a little better. Of course his motivations and all of that matter, but if I can -- and yes, it sounds absolutely bonkers to say it out loud -- be a superhero and save lives and find out what happened to my wife and son, shouldn't I do that?"

His teeth are chattering by the time he's done with this short speech.

"Can we talk outside? So I can, you know, warm up?"

They step outside, but maintain a distance from Mortimer. Still, Lang keeps his voice down. "I want to know his motivations, so I know how to maintain my independence and what other strings he's got his fingers on and all of that sort of thing, but at the core... at the beating heart of it all... I want to do this. That's all I'm trying to get at."
Dec 7, 2020 10:48 pm
Irrational anger rises up inside Thalia. "Of course you want to do it! That's exactly how he engineered it, don't you see? I don't know how, but this clown has power over... over everything, or almost. He's only showing himself now because he's been expecting you to find your own way to becoming The Alchemist, but you haven't done it yet. It... Shit!"

She slaps her forehead with one hand. "It's so obvious! He probably set all of this up. The mystery, the people tailing you, probably even the car crash. Don't you get it? This whole tragedy was intended to be your origin story."
Dec 8, 2020 6:01 pm
The complex series of reactions that play out on Lang's face are echoed in his response.

"What? That's crazy," he scoffs. But that's not the end of it. "Isn't it? I mean, how could anyone have that much power to make all that happen? No one does. Right?"

His eyes traverse the dining room, from the old man sitting at the booth and smiling blandly, to the door where the bomb threat victim has just left. He thinks of his best friend just outside, sitting and waving at him with that awful, vacant smile that carries none of Alicia's no-nonsense verve. He looks to Thalia, who watches him intently, waiting for the war of reactions in his head to play out. He thinks of the sudden split Thalias, one near death with a defeated illness, the other well enough to somehow pass him a note through extradimensional space and...

"What the ACTUAL FUCK?!"

Oh, he's pissed. When his usual curse du jour is 'fiddlesticks', you know that something hasn't just snapped inside him, it's exploded into tiny, needle-sharp Lang bits.

He turns and stomps toward Mortimer, hands clenched in fists so tight his knuckles are turning white.

"Was it you? Did you do it?" he shouts. "Did you cause the accident?!"
Dec 9, 2020 12:36 am
Mortimer calmly lets Lang shout at him. Once he is sure that he is finished, he motions for the two of you to have a seat. When neither of you actually take a seat, Mortimer stands up and faces Lang. "Indirectly, perhaps. Reality is a very complicated thing. I may play god, but I am far from the genuine article."

He pauses to let what he has said sink in while he studies both of your faces. Mortimer casts a disapproving look in Thalia’s direction before returning his focus to Lang. "I am a very powerful man, but I am far from omnipotent. It took the help of powers beyond my own to weave into existence the rules that govern our shared reality. Rules that can no longer be changed. Not by me or by anyone. I can alter almost anything in my immediate surroundings but things get a bit tricky when you try to extend beyond that.

"If you want to put blame on me for what happened to your family, I will accept it. No, I did not orchestrate a grand elaborate scheme to create the perfect hero. I did, however, design the rules that lead to their deaths. For that, I am sorry.

"You’re a man of science. I am sure you will understand how unseen variables can snowball into disaster during a promising experiment. In hindsight it is easy to see your mistakes. You can easily recognize that, of course evil will be more ready to accept their role. They are much more ambitious. Real go-getters that bunch. I did not anticipate the mind of a hero. The reluctance. The hesitance. The lack of confidence that you all seem to have. I don’t understand it, but for the sake of the whole system I have to do my best to combat it.

"Hence, this whole little show here today. The heroes are badly outnumbered. Everyone one wants to be a superhero until the time comes for them to actually step up and do it. Then it seems they will do just about anything to get out of it. I will never understand you people.

"For what it is worth, Lang, I am sorry. For what happened to your family. For what I put you through today. The world needs you out there fighting for it and you now realize that you are capable of doing just that. You are capable of preventing the next tragedy. Capable of buying me more time to find others like you before an--" he briefly looks to Thalia with a displeased expression on his face, "origin story is forced upon them. What happened to your family was a preventable tragedy. You would have been a hero whether it had happened or not. I wish I had found you earlier."

Thalia watches Mortimer closely during his speech. She looks deep and leans heavily on her powers to find the truth behind what he is actually saying. At no point does she get any indication that he is being anything but truthful. It doesn't make it easier to shake the feeling she has that Mortimer is a snake oil salesman only telling Lang what he thinks he wants to hear.
Dec 9, 2020 1:24 am
Thalia meets Mortimer's gaze, and all it contains, every time he deigns to glance at her, unfazed. She takes in what he says about playing God, filing it away to a later question. Similarly, she finds what he says about the "rules" he'd designed and about the nature of their reality intriguing, and more than a little disturbing.

But there's one thing he says that brings her blood to an instant boil.
griffrpg says:
"Everyone one wants to be a superhero until the time comes for them to actually step up and do it. Then it seems they will do just about anything to get out of it. I will never understand you people."
"You.. you.." She can't think of a word that adequately sums up her rage, so she just moves on. "How dare you talk about someone failing to step up. This man has been through hell, buried in guilt and grief and struggling to keep finding meaning in his life, but when a jackass with godlike powers and a stupid hat showed up and put innocent people in deadly jeopardy, he didn't hesitate. He didn't 'try to get out of it.' He plunged right in and did the impossible."

She turns to look at Lang, opening her mouth, but she can't even think of what to say to him, so she turns back to Mortimer. "You came here to get Lang to choose to become a superhero. What you don't seem to realize is... he already is one."
Dec 9, 2020 10:11 pm
Lang is unmoved by any protestations of innocence, apology or lack of responsibility. "Yes, all very Machiavellian of you," he snarls. "Being a demi-god, I'm sure you've heard the phrase that absolute power corrupts absolutely, even if it seems you've failed to heed the warning along the way."

Through the tightened jaw and hard glare, he nods in response to Thalia. "You're damned right I am. Because not seeking out the kind of power you seem to think should be thrown around, not happily considering yourself better than everyone around, using it only when it becomes necessary, with responsibility and honesty... that's a superhero. This... this manipulation, these stupid tests, trying to force people to accept this burden? Every comic book I've ever read says the same thing. That makes a villain."
Dec 10, 2020 1:04 am
Mortimer listens to Thalia with a blank expression on his face up until she insults his hat. He honestly looks hurt at this comment. He briefly takes it from his head to examine. Seemingly satisfied, he places it back upon his head.

Langs jumps into the ring next and throws his own verbal jabs at Mortimer. He listens closely, a small but perceptible smile spreads across his lips. Mortimer waits a moment after everyone is done speaking. He doesn’t want to interrupt anyone. When he is sure that both of you are finished, he clears his throat and responds.

"I do not believe I ever pretended to be anything but a villain. I wear the title proudly. Sadly the days of being nothing more than a trickster god are gone. Some might say that I’m more of a well intentioned extremist now. Either way, villain suits me just fine."

Mortimer claps his hands together and smiles widely. "Alright lady and gentleman. It looks like we’re done here." Mortimer turns toward the door but suddenly stops. He spins back around and looks to Thalia. "I promised you some straight answers, didn’t I? Aw shucks." He holds out a hand toward the booth where the playing cards still rest. Thalia feels compelled to sit down.

Mortimer doesn’t join her just yet. He wraps an arm around Lang’s shoulder and he is powerless to stop him. Mortimer starts walking him toward the front door. "Villain I may be, but I still feel a bit bad about how I treated you today. It may not be the real thing, but I have a feeling that doesn’t really matter right now."

He points your attention outside where the rain has stopped. Bright sun shines down on the parking lot where Alicia has exited the vehicle. She appears to be in conversation with Lang’s late wife. His son stands next to her with a bored expression on his face as the two adults chit chat.

"I’ll leave it up to you whether you want to have a chance to say goodbye while I wrap up a little business with Thalia." Mortimer slaps Lang on the back and returns to the booth.

"So. Three questions is what I agreed to, yes? What do you want to know?" he asks Thalia.
Dec 10, 2020 1:44 am
Once again, Thalia feels her free will overwritten by Mortimer's, and she finds herself moving to sit down in the booth. She's seething inside, but she doesn't bother trying to fight him. If she's learned anything from this experience, it's that she's no match for this guy's power.

While she waits for him to finish setting up whatever fresh torment he's got prepared for Lang, she stares at the playing cards and the questions they ask.

Who am I?
Why am I doing this?
How do I know Lang’s destiny?
How do I control everything?
Why are you letting me play a part in this weird drama?


After a moment, she starts pulling some of the cards away. She doesn't need to ask who he is anymore, and the next three questions can all be answered by one more properly expansive one. She leaves the last one in place.

Then she tears out a page from her notebook, folds it, then carefully tears it in half, and writes a new question on each, placing them above the remaining playing card, resulting in:

What is the nature of our shared reality?
Who made the rules that govern that reality?
Why are you letting me play a part in this weird drama?


It's not enough - not nearly. But he'd only agreed to answer three, and she's not even sure the answers will matter anyway, in the long run. She has a fourth that she should probably substitute for the third one, but even as pragmatic as Thalia is, she really needs to understand why he involved her in this bizarre endeavor.
Dec 10, 2020 9:09 pm
All Lang's anger, the fire filling him up from the inside, extinguishes in an instant as he looks outside.

It's everything he's dreamed of in all of these interminably, excruciatingly long and empty days since the accident. Just one more chance to let them know... well, everything.

He starts to push open the door, his eyes welling up with tears, and... stops.

"I can't. It's not really them," he says in a strangled whisper. "No one can bring the dead back to life. Not even a self-professed trickster god."

He finds that he can't even look at them, chatting away with Alicia as if nothing was out of the ordinary, when they're just going to disappear and leave only the yawning pit of their absence behind.

"They knew everything I would say," he says, and he does an admirable job of making it sound like he really believes it. "They knew. They did."

And here comes the anger again, tiny spurts of flame at first. As they begin to grow, though, Lang imagines himself as a bar of steel. The fire becomes the hammering heat of a forge, waiting to shape him into the form he has to become if he's going to put an end to this sort of nonsense. If he's really going to be a superhero and not just someone who's read too many textbooks.
Dec 11, 2020 12:35 am
Dr. Langford Thomason is able to visualize everything now. The costume he is going to create. The mutagens he will develop. The miraculous abilities that will allow him to not only save lives, but obtain justice for his family.

His wife and son are gone when he looks back out at the parking lot. Alicia gets into the car and pulls it around to the front of the diner. She gives Lang a smile and a wave. He gives one last look to Thalia, and one last glare at Mortimer, before walking out the door of the diner and getting into Alicia’s car.

Back in the booth, Mortimer watches Thalia with amused curiosity. When she is finished writing her questions, Mortimer reaches across the table and turns it around so he can read it. "This is what you want to know? Alright then.

"What is the nature of our shared reality? A fair question. I created this version of reality to continue a life that was lost. I wanted to live in a world that made sense, and more importantly, a world that would never stop making sense. A world where good battles evil for all eternity.

"Who made the rules that govern that reality? That would be me... and the Warden. Does that fill you with goosebumps? The discovery that the world’s greatest hero is in fact an ally to the monster that sits before you?

"And finally: Why are you letting me play a part in this weird drama? Do you really not know? Has the great detective not figured it out? I did it because you are the only person who could convince Lang to accept his destiny. He needed to hear words of encouragement directly from his wife."

Mortimer smiles wide as he soaks in the look on Thalia’s face. What he just said makes no sense and yet her powers do not pick up on any attempt at deception. She has never read someone as being so honest before. It makes no sense.
Alicia drops Lang off at his house. He absentmindedly waves goodbye and he hustles inside. Ideas have been racing through his head on the drive home and he wants to get them on paper before he forgets. Scratch that. He wants to get to work on mixing these concoctions as soon as possible.

He hasn’t felt like this in ages. So full of excitement and passion. All memories of the past few hours have been erased from his mind. As far as he knows, he went and had lunch with Alicia. Nothing eventful happened except for the epiphany he had regarding the creation of his mutagens.

He takes a seat at the desk in his lab. There is a glass jar he doesn’t remember being there before. A post-it note is attached to the front that reads "swear jar." He doesn’t remember putting this here. No matter. He pushes the jar aside. He has work to do.

In a few short hours he will ingest the first batch of mutagens and will be well on the way to becoming the Alchemist.
Mortimer cannot stop smiling as Thalia starts to question everything he has said. It is now clear that he is entirely immune to her superpower. He can say whatever he likes and she may not be able to tell if it is the truth.

Mortimer gets up and tips his hat to Thalia. He walks out the front door while Thalia is forced to walk back to the booth where she met Lang earlier today.

Customers start to enter the diner again as the world returns to normal and Mortimer vanishes from sight, along with Thalia's memories of the events of the last few hours.

Theo walks over to the booth and takes a seat opposite of Thalia. He looks embarrassed as he thanks her for coming out here to meet with him. Thalia takes out a pen and gets ready to take notes as Theo starts to fill her in on the details of the scam artists who conned him out of thousands of dollars.

Thread locked