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  • And the Adventure Continues...?


    Derrick Mason Gray

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    October 11, 2019; 3pm

    CONTINUED FROM: "SANDS OF TIME"

    In the beginning she had kept in touch with the Nord. The potential of finding a solution to disentangle herself from the creature that seemed to inhabit her very consciousness was too great a pull. But quickly the novelty of finding answers wore off as "science" did not progress at a pace to assuage the headliners impatience to put it all behind her. She had given up on coming to any conclusions with the big man. Besides, life needed her. The club, the family, the stadium.....even, maybe, their ammunitions dealer.... needed her.

    So rather than keep coming to his lab and being disappointed with the lack of results, she had gone back to her "normal life".

    …. or at least she had tried to.

    There was a wild aggression in her playing that even Gaspari had picked up on. The crowds went nuts for it but her band and her own hands were suffering to keep up. And then there was sleep.. or rather the lack there of. The shades these days were covering dark circles under her eyes as she fought sleep with as much ferocity as she played with. In the darkness of slumber, in the depths of her dreams, "it" was far too active.

    But it stopped waiting for her dreams, whispering now in her waking moments. All her damn waking moments!

    Jeans hung long over her thick soled boots as she marched in the direction of the lab he had started this all in. Hands were jammed into the front pockets, pushing the hem of the fitted brown leather blazer up as the afternoon breeze kicked up the loose mahogany strands. White outlines blazed furiously as she let the gift burn to ensure a smooth hunt, she had no time for tripping over unfamiliar curbs as she sought to avoid all people in her beeline course to the Nord.

    Growl was half under her breath as she arrived and realized the fence was closed and locked. Perfect!

    Lips moved as she swore and muttered under her breath about now being a spider. Long limbs made quick work of climbing the chain link. Telekinetic shield pressed down on the barbed wire at the top so she could slide over and drop to the ground on the other side.

    Silent alarms were likely already going off. She wasn’t exactly "sneaking" in as she took the steps up to the door two at a time. Knock was an understatement as the side of her fist pounded the thick door with enough force to cause reverberating echoes both inside and out. Brows were snarled over the dark shades as she pounded again.

    [derrick]…'EY…. MIGHTY MOUSE![/derrick]

    Patience was definitely not her virtue at the moment.

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    Atticus rolled his neck and arched his back. Powerful arms bulged beneath the white lab coat as they stretched to the ceiling, the joints offering a relieving crackle. He’d been working tirelessly on the Menhir code, making up for lost time. It had a habit of getting away on the old man. It always had, even before it had become limitless. Well, one never really knew for sure how long they had. Even if they were ageless. Still, Atticus had become sidetracked by the trappings of Pharos, unable to devote the necessary time to the Menhir and Mason. A distraction he rectified with a temporary leave of absence. Almost a full year had gone by since the relic had reacted to Mason, producing an elaborate three dimensional interpretation of her particular ‘Nevusian Signal’. The solution of which, he was finally making progress.

    The data had to be refined, specified; preparations made. A molecular schematic slowly rendered on one of the computer screens, a necessary precaution. Only a few more days.

    Atticus reached for a bright red mug and took sip of the luke warm contents, frowning at the coffee’s bitter chill. Time for a warm up he resigned but as he motioned to rise from his tall counter top chair his attention was drawn to the sound of a very distinct alert from his phone. It was an alarm. The building’s security system was relayed to his phone, a ten minute countdown initializing before the security team was automatically dispatched. They were professional. Thorough. Discreet. Best of all, respective of privacy. Fortunately, Atticus had never had an incident that required their services. The few times the silent alarm had been tripped it had been an animal, but it was too early for pigeons to roost and too cold for bats.

    Picking up the phone, Atticus accessed the map and noted that a perimeter sensor had been tripped. This raised an eyebrow, and quickly scrolling through the CCTV cameras, scanned the outer grounds for any sign of an intruder.

    A distant camera caught a figure at the front entrance. Only four people beside himself, knew about this place and only one of them had legs like that. Flipping to another camera angle, Atticus’ suspicions were verified.

    Mason.

    Curiously, Atticus made a sweep of the yard to ensure that she was alone. She was after all, a criminal, and as such her loyalty could always be compromised.

    She was alone. Atticus disengaged the alert, but the timing of her visit raised an alarm of it’s own.

    ‘Did she know?’

    Accessing the P.A. system on the front door via his phone he could detect the agitation in her voice, hear the forceful pounding on the door. She was upset and would that her connection with the Menhir became stronger over the past year it was completely warranted.

    Three weeks ago he had arranged transport for the Menhir overseas to Ein El Sokhna, one of the last remaining operational ports in the Middle East. It should have now just been entering the waters of the Red Sea, if all had gone well. He had been able to narrow down the destination to the Sahara Desert, the precise location still alluding him. He was confident, however, that he would soon crack the code or assemble enough clues to navigate the terrain. The latter, was probably more of a possibility. Whatever the Menhir had picked up on through it’s exposure to Mason didn’t want to be found.

    [atticus]Go and peddle your religious views somewhere else.[/atticus] Atticus’ sarcastic tone resonated through the speaker above the front door and he began to chuckle. [atticus]Hey, Mason. Long time no…[/atticus]

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    She wasn’t a patient person. As silence rewarded her, the pounding on the door and demand for the Nord was repeated. She was about to hit the thing again when ears picked up the first whisper of electric connection through a speaker.

     

    About damn time.

     

    [atticus] Go and peddle your religious views somewhere else.[/atticus]

     

    Oh hell no he didn’t!

     

    [atticus]Hey, Mason. Long time no….[/atticus]

     

    He wasn’t getting another word in as her own snapped him off, foot hitting the center of the door with enough force to actually leave a mark on the surface.

     

    [derrick]….cut the shit Mighty Mouse! Get down here and open this door.[/derrick]

     

    Chin lifted, sure somewhere there was a camera she should be glaring into as she snapped open the button on her leather blazer and shrugged it off. Right hand snatched the gray top strap on her left shoulder to shove it off, the braless skin underneath exposed. The tribal markings were thick and wild over her flesh as they undulated from her neck all the way down her arm, but that wasn’t the reason she had exposed it. There was a set of marks that were out of place even in the amalgam of unnatural etchings. Across the breadth of her collarbone were three triangles, two large and one slightly smaller. Their hard edged lines glaringly prevalent among the more organic designs.

     

    [derrick]…get your ass down here and explain why yer fuckin' rock keeps showing me three triangles![/derrick]

     

    It had started a couple months ago but had magnified in recent weeks to the point where she could barely function. What was really infuriating was she had no clue what they were supposed to mean.

     

    [derrick]…my dreams…. my waking moments… on my fuckin' skin.. in my music… always these three god damn triangles.[/derrick]

     

    Nostrils flared beneath the dark shades. She was pissed…and agitated. It was difficult to tell which was more prevalent at the moment.

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    • 2 weeks later...

    The black markings across her skin were… well… admittedly they were quite beautiful. Atticus had never seen their like before and was quite intrigued by the pattern flowing across her skin. ‘A metamorphosis?’ he pondered. ‘Was she was transforming, or were the markings just that? A genetic marker meant to physically reveal her new mutation?’ But the best was yet to come in the revelation of three distinct triangular shapes!

    ‘Giza!’ The pyramid complex was the first thing to come to mind when Atticus first laid eyes upon the symbols. ‘Perhaps.’ He needed to have a closer look, so without further delay he quickly made his way to the main doors.

    [atticus]You’ve established a psychic connection with the Menhir?[/atticus] Atticus excitedly inquired as the steel doors parted.

    [atticus]Please, follow me to the lab. I need to get a closer look these symbols.[/atticus] he requested, leading the way down the dimly lit corridor.

    [atticus]I’m very sorry we lost touch. I’ve been meaning to get a hold of you…[/atticus] A half-truth. He was concerned, but so long as she held it together he preferred to concentrate on the relic’s side of the mystery, [atticus]… but you know how it is.[/atticus] Didn’t everyone get lost in their work?

    [atticus]My God! I mean, those are truly remarkable.[/atticus] He commented, observing what visible markings he could as they made their way to the lab. Since he’d last seen her the change had been extensive, and with that some guilt began to set in. However, negligent or not he didn’t know what difference he could have made. There was no treatment other than to solve the riddle of the Menhir, of that he was almost certain. She and the relic were inexplicably connected through her exposure to pure Nevusian mana. The artifact was the key.

    Entering the spacious laboratory, he directed her to a high tech recliner in the corner of the room. [atticus]Please, remove your shirt and sit back.[/atticus] he requested in the tone and mannerism of a physician. His mind on task, he strode over to a touch-screen and began calibrating the camera and lights above the examination chair.

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    • 2 weeks later...

    She paced the landing grumbling under her breath. This wasn’t the first oddity in the last five months, it was just the final straw. That was why she was now tearing down his door and demanding answers. She couldn’t take more. She had nearly been injured in an altercation between the family and an upstart gang last week when the damn triangles turned up as solid forms in her enhanced map causing her to miss the location of one of the assailants.

     

    [atticus] You’ve established a psychic connection with the Menhir? [/atticus]

     

    [derrick]…always had one… its just getting fuckin' pushy.[/derrick]

     

    She snapped as she pushed past him even as he invited her to follow to the lab so he could take a better look. She let him pass to lead the way as she shook her shoulders to chase away the cold bite from outside.

     

    [atticus]I'm very sorry we lost touch. I’ve been meaning to get a hold of you [/atticus]

     

    Snort flushed from her nostrils dismissively.

     

    [derrick]….don't bullshit a bullshitter…. you aint sorry nor did you mean to do any kind of reaching out.[/derrick]

     

    Hand went up to push stray strands of mahogany from in front of her face, flipping them back over her head as they made it into the lab.

     

    [derrick]… you would'a preferred something you could dissect and keep in jars out here to study…[/derrick]

     

    His admiration of her living tattoos only drew a faint snort as she moved into the open space. Frown descending over her shades as the soft mutter came nearly under her breath.

     

    [derrick]….its not here….[/derrick]

     

    There was a faint tinge of relief in the words. She couldn’t explain how she knew… she just knew.

     

    [atticus] Please, remove your shirt and sit back. [/atticus]

     

    Leather blazer was already slipping off her shoulders as she followed his steps to the corner, flushing her map just a moment to identify the recliner as she tossed the leather onto the back of the seat. Long fingers tucked under the hem of the tank to slip it over her head, long tail of mahogany curling up into the neck before flopping down against her bare back. Modesty was not something that fully registered with the headliner, never had. Visual stimulations held no meaning in her world. The fact that she was naked from the waist up didn’t draw any hesitation as she dropped her hips into the recliner, long legs straddling the seat. Ebony covered her entire left half from the side of her neck and disappearing into the waistband of her pants. It was as though she was halfway through a Polynesian body sleeve tattoo.

     

    Sitting up away from the back, she held out her left arm, the entire length more ebony than flesh toned anymore as the tribal fingers engulfed the musculature. Inside of the forearm bore a triple image of triangles smaller than those that sat on her collarbone, something she showed before the left arm lifted over her head to show the triple image that was etched over her rib cage on the left side, the largest of the sets as the three triangles wrapped from nearly her abs to the center of her spine in the back. All three sets were sized different but their relative dimensions and spacing were arithmetically precise.

     

    [derrick]….what the fuck does it want from me Mighty Mouse?[/derrick]

     

    Frown marred her expression as hands dropped into her lap almost defeated. She was tired…living with the parasite had started to rob her of sleeping and eating.

     

    [derrick]…what the hell do triangles hafta do with anything?[/derrick]

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    • 2 weeks later...

    Intense natural light shone down upon Mason’s naked form the inky black markings like permanent shadow, so dark they seemed to absorb the illumination. The doctor’s bright blue stare followed the flow of her curves, studying the intricacies of the multicultural patterns until the similarities were indisputable.

    [atticus]Incredible.[/atticus] he muttered, eyes shifting to one of the screens mounted on the high tech apparatus hanging above the chair.

    A program was extrapolating the three dimensional photos of her body and flattening them on a level plane. Hitting a few commands on a keyboard, a second screen displayed the original pattern of the Menhir and over-lapped them. It was a perfect match.

    An eerie prickle crept up Atticus’ spine, but the scientist repressed the theory until such time as more evidence came to light. All he could do was state the facts.

    [atticus]These are the same markings produced on the Menhir via your contact. Less detailed of course, due to the two dimensional nature, but the same nonetheless.[/atticus] Atticus confirmed, [atticus]The triangles, however, are anomalous.[/atticus] And it was as he feared. The symbols alone would afford him nothing. Mason was the key!

    The sigh was audible. He had hoped to avoid taking her along, she was a loose canon and her connection to the Menhir created too many unpredictable variables to consider. Unfortunately, she alone would possess the ability to decipher the first marker.

    [atticus]Giza.[/atticus] He uttered the word softly, as if uttering it too loud would cast a curse upon them. [atticus]The three pyramids will show us the way. We’re going to Egypt.[/atticus]

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    [atticus]Incredible.[/atticus] [derrick]…annoying.[/derrick]

     

    Her own mutter correcting his more "rosy glasses" view of the situation.

     

    [atticus] These are the same markings produced on the Menhir via your contact. Less detailed of course, due to the two dimensional nature, but the same nonetheless. The triangles, however, are anomalous.[/atticus]

     

    [derrick]…ya think?[/derrick]

     

    The rhetorical mutter came as the tank was pulled from the back of the chair and dropped back over her head, arms snaking through the holes before the long tail of mahogany was pulled free to pool behind her. She wondered if she should mention the patterns changed regularly.

     

    [atticus]Giza.[/atticus][derrick]..huh?[/derrick]

     

    Wasn’t her most eloquent response but she wasn’t entirely sure she had heard him right. She knew what Giza was, she had gone to school after all, she just wasn’t sure what the hell the pyramids had to do with this mess.

     

    [atticus] The three pyramids will show us the way.[/atticus][derrick]Wait…what?[/derrick]

     

    Show them the way to what exactly?? She just wanted the damn parasite to quit interfering with her life.

     

    [atticus] We’re going to Egypt.[/atticus][derrick]Excuse me?!?[/derrick]

     

    She stood off the recliner abruptly, harnessed glock sliding down the recliner back to rest on the vacated seat having been seamlessly slid off along with her leather blazer.

     

    [derrick]…why the hell I gotta go to Egypt??[/derrick]

     

    There was a tightness in her voice. She had managed to stay off the ocean waters for nearly a year now. She had a healthy fear of water, it did horrible things to her perception and the near drowning experience had not exactly alleviated her of that fear.

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    • 3 weeks later...

    [atticus]Believe me, if you weren’t an essential component to this riddle, I’d leave you here. As it is, YOU are. And it’s not like you have much of a choice. Your body is deteriorating, Mason. I don’t know how long you have. Months? Weeks? Your survival is reliant upon helping me find this particular Nevusian shard.[/atticus]

    Atticus left it at that. The cold reality of the situation was that she could come alive or he could take her dead, either way he’d get the results. Of course her corpse wouldn’t offer up an intelligent response, not without the administration of arcane magic, which meant a huge set back, time-wise. He also couldn’t confirm precisely what would happen to her condition if left untreated. He couldn’t say for sure whether or not the end result of the metamorphosis meant ‘death’ as mortals knew it. Based on all his knowledge of the Nevus and the Menhir there was about an eighty-five percent chance of her demise, give or take.

    Lifting himself up onto a nearby countertop, Atticus sat, pensively hunched over, elbows on his knees. [atticus]Your ability. The way you perceive the world. It simply can’t be coincidence. Too many variables are lining up.[/atticus] he elaborated. [atticus]I would venture to assume that as we get closer to our first destination your ‘rendered percipience’ will become our map. There’s just no other way to explain it. Maybe, the Menhir has been waiting for you all this time. I simply, don’t know.[/atticus]

    The odds were incredible. Atticus knew how flaky he sounded but there was simply no other explanation.

    [atticus]I have a plane lined up. A direct flight. If all goes well, we’re looking at a week, tops. A few days of your time and you’ll have the rest of your life.[/atticus] he winced at that last part, bobbling his head side to side, [atticus]If all goes well, that is.[/atticus]

     

    Egypt wasn't exactly 'Egypt' anymore. Not the way it was before the Resonance.

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    [atticus] Believe me, if you weren’t an essential component to this riddle, I’d leave you here. As it is, YOU are. And it’s not like you have much of a choice. Your body is deteriorating, Mason. I don’t know how long you have. Months? Weeks? Your survival is reliant upon helping me find this particular Nevusian shard. [/atticus]

     

    Scowl was etched across her brow as she slumped hips against the side of the recliner. It wasn’t exactly deterioration. At least she didn’t think so. It was more a parasitic/host relationship. Of course some parasites ate their host. So…maybe he was right. Lot of things she hadn't told him either. Like the fact that it amped and played havoc with her abilities.

     

    Was it "using" her up?

     

    What the HELL did it want with her?

     

    She was suddenly aware he was strangely silent. Brow quirked. The damn scientist was pondering her death and likely that it made it easier for him to slug along her body than her "charming" self. Huff escaped her lips as she scowled down at hands that fidgeted in front of her hips, right fingers tugging at her left to pull joints apart until they cracked, bad habit of a musician.

     

    Sensitive ears listened as he slid up onto a counter nearby. His breath adjusted in height betraying he had moved from sitting up to slumping over. He didn’t know what the hell to make of it all either. Great.

     

    Hands switched to run the same habit through her right fingers, pausing when he spoke again.

     

    [atticus] Your ability. The way you perceive the world. It simply can’t be coincidence. Too many variables are lining up. [/atticus]

     

    Last digit was stretched before hands moved to her features, dark shades lifting out of the way as the heels of her hands rubbed against tired eyes. Waiting for her. Great.

     

    [derrick]…stalked by a damn crack in the sky.[/derrick]

     

    Mutter was soft as hand slid behind her to drag the harness from the chair, arm sliding through one strap before snaking it behind her to tuck the other in. The custom leather slid so perfectly tight to her form it was hard to comprehend how agilely she had removed it while still under the leather blazer. Hips pushed back onto the seat as she pondered options.

     

    Problem was…. she couldn’t think of any.

     

    [atticus] I have a plane lined up. A direct flight. If all goes well, we’re looking at a week, tops. A few days of your time and you’ll have the rest of your life….. If all goes well, that is. [/atticus]

     

    One option was to tell him to go fuck himself and walk out. Wasn’t a good option…. but it was an option.

     

    [derrick]….can't just up and leave…..need to….. check in with some people.[/derrick]

     

    Mutter had a hint of defeated acceptance. Fuck… Gaspari was going to kill her. One week? Ya right. Her trip to Italy had been scheduled for three weeks. Took five. Of course if they had not been delayed, Mighty Mouse and that dumb ass cop would have drowned in the living storm.

     

    There were pros and cons to that thought.

     

    [derrick]Fuck…….[/derrick]

     

    Soft swear seemed to completely acquiesce before chin turned to half look towards the Nord.

     

    [derrick]….ok Mighty Mouse…. Egypt it is.[/derrick]

     

    Slipping off the recliner she snatched the leather blazer, shrugging it over her shoulders, the twin glocks under her arms vanishing as though they never existed.

     

    [derrick]….need couple days to get things sorted first.[/derrick]

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    She seemed reluctant at first. Her pessimism had foiled his attempt at polite optimism. The trip would be a week, minimum. Atticus had no idea what they might run into out there. The Middle East was a very different world now, or so went the stories. He hadn’t been since before the ‘change’, but those in-the-know described a realm reborn of romanticized legend. He was both excited and apprehensive of the expedition, an adventure reliant on Mason’s participation.

    A noticeable sigh of relief issued from Atticus’ lips when she committed to the trip. [atticus]Thank you.[/atticus] The compliment was genuine, the sparkling smile, grateful.

    [atticus]Yes, of course.[/atticus] He responded to her request, [atticus]I’ve a few loose ends to tie up myself.[/atticus]

    From his perches position Atticus’ legs kicked and twitched anxiously. This was it! The culmination of all his research on the Menhir.

    [atticus]How ‘bout you give me a call in five days.[/atticus] He told her, [atticus]I’ll pick you up. Anything you need for the trip, I’ll reimburse you, or text me a list. It’s the least I can do.[/atticus]

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    • 3 weeks later...

    [atticus]Thank you.[/atticus]

     

    The relief in his sigh bristled her senses. She was annoyed at the world more than him but he was an easy and accessible target at the moment.

     

    [derrick]….ya well… get one thing clear Mighty Mouse….ain't doin' it for you.[/derrick]

     

    She could almost hear the giddy in his voice and the fidget of his legs. God damn… a kid that just got a new toy and somehow she was the plaything.

     

    [atticus] How ‘bout you give me a call in five days. I’ll pick you up. Anything you need for the trip, I’ll reimburse you, or text me a list. It’s the least I can do.[/atticus]

     

    Shrug was indifferent as she stuffed her hands into the pockets of the leather blazer.

     

    [derrick]…tend to travel light. Just be sure we got a stocked bar.[/derrick]

     

    It didn’t take the edge off as much as it used to which meant an already bad habit was exasperated. Based on their few encounters she figured he had already picked up she only drank high end bar fare. The good shit was expensive these days since no one made half of them anymore, why would she pay for it while on "his" trip.

     

    The rest… well she wasn’t lying, she travelled light. Her duffle would cover her.

     

    Head shook thinking about him picking her up. Something she had still avoided was him knowing where she lived. So few did.

     

    [derrick]…will meet you back here in five days around six…..better be here or you risk me changing my mind Mouse.[/derrick]

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