Dark Champions: Secret Worlds

[RDU Neil]

Re: Dark Champions: Secret Worlds

 

I think you are being a bit hard on yourself. I thought the pace was good. We needed that easy, slow build up for the fenetic, crazyiness that was the Shadowy Skirmish to have the right rhythym. Damien (Promo, as Terry calls him) trying to find a range rover, the gun buy, the switching hotels... all gave a sense of the Phillippines and a sorta hazy, lazy life. Contrasted sharply with Shadow Ninjas and Demonic Damsels.

 

 

I'm glad you saw it that way. I felt somewhat the same as GM, but during the game itself, I never could tell if the players were getting that "feel." That is what I wanted to capture... a feel for the environment and setting as unique and different from California.

 

I think what is disjointed is the unclear understanding of how much progress on finding Stang's daughter has been made... and how important to you, the GM, we pursue that... how important to the group that is. I tried to make inroads on tracking info on the Warlord who has Stang's daughter, but it got me nowhere... I think it has slipped a bit in the minds of the others.

 

Now, that is fine... I have no problem that no progress has been made on that front... but is it okay from a story POV?

 

This is true. I'm conflicted between two gaming goals... one, giving the group a chance to establish some identity, some character moments, a sense of place... and story wise to set up a base of operations

 

vs.

 

two, driving the plot toward confrontation with the Grandmaster Lung in finding Stang's daughter... repercussions from the SanFran adventure, etc.

 

In game time, only a little over a week has passed for the characters, but real time has been a couple of months. It makes sense for the players to lose focus... which causes the characters to lose focus when they probably would not have.

 

Yeah... it's a problem I need to address.

[Storn]

Re: Dark Champions: Secret Worlds

 

This is true. I'm conflicted between two gaming goals... one, giving the group a chance to establish some identity, some character moments, a sense of place... and story wise to set up a base of operations

 

vs.

 

two, driving the plot toward confrontation with the Grandmaster Lung in finding Stang's daughter... repercussions from the SanFran adventure, etc.

 

You can always have us read a newspaper article that she is found in Kowloon's bay dead. It would be so- very "Sleeper". Of course, that would short circuit that plotline... but that might play to your direction better... or maybe not. But when we do meet Lung down the line... and she is dead... and we feel guilt for not moving fast enuff?... good gist for the mill.

 

As Terry, I'm a bit stuck on what to do on Stang's daughter.... Grandmaster Lung is obviously a really big deal in HK, if Terry has never heard of him. That amount anominity means making an approach needs to be done delicately. Something that we have not excelled at. But also, approaching delicately robs any sense of urgency from the situation.

 

I just don't feel like I can walk up and say that "Left Hand of Kali" wants an audience with Grandmaster Lung, sil vous plait.

 

I don't think it is a bad thing.... just a little bit of drift... and we might have to agree to put Stang's daughter on hold, depending on how everyone reacts to Nightmarish Ninjas and Demonic Damsels.

[James Gillen]

Re: Dark Champions: Secret Worlds

 

"As he points, Terry realizes he still has his MK 23 in his hand and that part of him has already factored the easy headshots that would kill all five of these scared men in less than that many seconds."

 

Heh.

Love these little details.

 

JG

[Storn]

Re: Dark Champions: Secret Worlds

 

"As he points, Terry realizes he still has his MK 23 in his hand and that part of him has already factored the easy headshots that would kill all five of these scared men in less than that many seconds."

 

Heh.

Love these little details.

 

JG

 

That is Neil embellishing and projecting his concept of my character a bit. I did threatened the man for his tequila. I did acquire Mk23s in the gun buy. But I never mentioned calculating headshots. I simply didn't think of it. I just assumed a 6'1" British bulldog with a gun would scare them off... but my character is NOT completely my own. The Spirit of Kali does come a calling at times...

 

But it does make for interesting flava.

[DaBadGuy]

Re: Dark Champions: Secret Worlds

 

What is this? No updates for almost 2 weeks??? Hast thou forsaken us, Neil? If I don't get an explanation and / or update soon, I'm going to have to bust out the bad reputation points! Don't make me!

[RDU Neil]

Re: Dark Champions: Secret Worlds

 

What is this? No updates for almost 2 weeks??? Hast thou forsaken us' date=' Neil? If I don't get an explanation and / or update soon, I'm going to have to bust out the bad reputation points! Don't make me! [/quote']

 

Haven't played since this last game. Logisitics have been hell in getting the group together, and then I had old college friends in town, and we ran something like 20 hours of supers last weekend... went back to my original campaign, the RDU. Secret Worlds has been on hiatus, and I don't know if I'll be able to get the players back to it.

 

We'll see... but thanks for the push, and keep checking back.

[Nuadha]

Re: Dark Champions: Secret Worlds

 

I don't think you'll have much problem at getting us back to it. I'm pretty sure that we're all really enjoying the game.

[Storn]

Re: Dark Champions: Secret Worlds

 

I don't think you'll have much problem at getting us back to it. I'm pretty sure that we're all really enjoying the game.

 

I respectfull disagree... not that I'm not enjoying Secret Worlds. But put to me this way; Who do you think is more interesting to play, Black Bow or Terry? Cowboy or Ryu? Lilly or Mr. Jones? What is easier for Neil to run, RDU or Secret Worlds?

 

And I see a problem for Secret Worlds. Sorry, just callin' 'em as I see 'em.

 

The shame for all of Neil's faithful readers is that you don't have a write up of RDU adventures to compare Secret Worlds against. In a way, his players do. RDU has all the drama, the quirkiness that Secret Worlds does... then ADD great Powers, Responsiblities, layers of history, plot hooks everywhere.

 

Now, what RDU doesn't have is lots of gun battles. And Secret Worlds is not totally indimidating to Joe or any other new player, as there is very little history.

 

I'll play either, of course...

[BonHed]

Re: Dark Champions: Secret Worlds

 

I respectfull disagree... not that I'm not enjoying Secret Worlds. But put to me this way; Who do you think is more interesting to play, Black Bow or Terry? Cowboy or Ryu? Lilly or Mr. Jones? What is easier for Neil to run, RDU or Secret Worlds?

 

And I see a problem for Secret Worlds. Sorry, just callin' 'em as I see 'em.

 

The shame for all of Neil's faithful readers is that you don't have a write up of RDU adventures to compare Secret Worlds against. In a way, his players do. RDU has all the drama, the quirkiness that Secret Worlds does... then ADD great Powers, Responsiblities, layers of history, plot hooks everywhere.

 

Now, what RDU doesn't have is lots of gun battles. And Secret Worlds is not totally indimidating to Joe or any other new player, as there is very little history.

 

I'll play either, of course...

 

I will play either as well. I like playing Ryu, but it's been harder for me than I thought it would to find his "voice". I've seen Neil struggle with SW, and I know some of the other players struggle with it as well. It needs time, of course, as any good campaign does. Even it will become as memorable to the players as the RDU.

[TheQuestionMan]

Campaign Preferences ....hmmm

 

Truth be told gentlemen , I would like to learn about the RDU campaign . I have an idea . Why don't you folks post a Campaign Journal for RDU and then we can read and compare both Simple maybe not , but we sure would enjoy reading and kabitzing with you about it .

 

I look forward to hearing from your group and my fellow HEROphiles . Too bad we couldn't put it to a vote .

 

I for one woud love to read more of RDUNeil's writings and some of the Players' contributions as well .

 

P.S. : Have you got a Character Compendium with write ups of this campaign . Especially the former cook with the AK-47 . Too cool for words .

 

Thanks

 

QM

[tkdguy]

Re: Dark Champions: Secret Worlds

 

I haven't posted in this thread before, but I've been following it with interest. I think you guys have a great game going. I wish I were in your area.

[Nuadha]

Re: Dark Champions: Secret Worlds

 

There has been talk in the past about setting up an RDU website, but I don't know if anthing has happened with that. I started to set up a page for my RDU characters (including converted stats for some of them in Mutants and Masterminds) a while back. The site can be found here: http://www.geocities.com/nuadha_silverhand/mm/championsindex.html

 

 

Well the conversation about preferences between SW and Champions continued online as I emailed everyone my preference to continue with SW. While I've enjoyed the RDU in the past, I've found myself enjoying the Secret World a lot more. We emailed back and forth on this and eventually the conversation was posted by Neil on The Masters' Council, a board for GMs. It can be read here: http://www.skyseastone.net/masters/viewtopic.php?t=72

 

To save you from needing to read all our emails, Neil is planning to continue Secret Worlds, with occassional breaks to return to the RDU. It will all depend on which players are available to play.

[ParagonAlpha]

Re: Dark Champions: Secret Worlds

 

Man o Freaking Man...

 

I decided to post after reading the whole thread. I'm hooked. I love everything so far and hate all of you as well (lucky bastiches!!)

 

I'm a Champs player from way back and a fan of Storn's since his first piece of artwork hit the hero books I so loved. (Even bought all the Dragon Magazines because of his artwork in Dragons of the North).

 

So who do I have to bribe, impress, threaten, beg, or pay to play in this game? Unlike others I'm an Ann Arbor/Ypsi resident. Longtime Underworld customer. (Heck I've probably spent time in the sacred realm of the Underworld engaged in some diatribe about the greatness of the JLA, why Marvel has sucked for years, and how the "Bad Man" (Rob Liefield) is evil, evil, and evil.)

 

Well either way I'm jealous. I hope you continue to make me so every week.

 

Peace

[TheQuestionMan]

Re: Dark Champions: Secret Worlds

 

Thanks Nuada , that was very educational and something my group only recently started doing . We hope you folks continue with Secret Worlds .

 

THANK YOU

 

QM

[RDU Neil]

Secret Worlds - Bk2 - Ep 3

 

This game took place almost three weeks ago. I've been so busy, and unable to finish writing this up. There was considerable issue amongst the group at this time which may end this campaign (for now)... but I still wanted to post the write up. I have the beginning and the end done... but the middle is a tough piece to write up. I'll get to it when I can.

 

If there are bits where the writing makes no sense, I apologize. I have been doing this piece meal for so long, I may have started a paragraph and then not realized that I left it hanging. Hardly the finest piece of prose you'll ever see, but I hope it's enjoyable anyway.

 

Episode 3 – Aftermath Of The Dream

 

Only four players, as Berkmann becomes permanent NPC

Joe Convery as Damien McGregor

James Arnoldi as Mr. Jones

Eric Hurst as Hitoshi Ryu

Storn Cook as Terry Owens

 

The dawn breaks hot and wet, but the sea breeze coming off the bay keeps it from being too oppressive. Inside the Range Rover, parked just off the main dock way, that breeze doesn’t penetrate. Inside, the heat is at least twenty degrees warmer than outside, and the four men sit unmoving. Only the faint rattle of breath indicates they are alive. Then, Ryu’s eyes simply open, and he turns his head slowly, looking at the others. Jones’ head is against the steering wheel, Terry leaning against the passenger window. Next to Ryu in the backseat, McGregor is slumped and still pale. Ryu calmly checks Damien’s pulse, putting his fingers to the man’s sweat and dirt stained neck, nodding when he finds the thrum to be steady and strong.

 

“Terry,†says Ryu, reaching up to nudge the Brit. “Wake up Terry,†he says calmly.

 

“M’wake†mumbles Terry, and his head moves slightly. His forehead leaves a greasy smear against the inside of the window, but otherwise Terry doesn’t do anything.

 

All the men sit quietly for another few minutes. Then Ryu opens his door slightly. “Jones?†he asks, nudging the driver. “Damien? Wake up.†Nobody moves right away, but Ryu keeps up the gentle prodding, letting in the relatively cool air from outside in the car. He finds himself rubbing the space between his eyes in response to deep ache that gets more and more noticeable as he becomes more awake.

 

A moment later the rich smell of freshly baked bread wafts into the car. This delicious smell triggers both Jones and McGregor for the first time, and the men begin to sit up, albeit slowly.

 

“Jesus…†mutters Damien, after a little more prodding. “I had the weirdest fucking dream…â€

 

The four doors of the Rover open and each man staggers away from the van, their heads pounding, and mouths dry and caked with sour grit. They all rub their heads in the fresh air, each feeling physically exhausted in a way none have felt before. For the moment they all stretch in the sunshine, peeling soaked clothing away from their skin and trying to feel human again.

 

When Damien comments again about having a strange dream, the other three just look at him and say, “Yeah, yeah… black shadow ninjas… hot chicks asking for help… and…â€

 

“And I died!†says Damien. He suddenly clutches and looks at his stomach, and chill and shudder running through him as he remembers the cold bite of blades and claws, the rending pain, and the hot spill of his own intestines onto the stony road.â€

 

“We both died,†says Ryu quietly. “Sort of…â€

 

The others stare about with weird looks, each remembering what they did in those last moments of the dream battle. Then Ryu and Jones and Damien all begin talking, sharing descriptions and asking questions… Damien and Jones more incredulous with each moment… and Ryu waxing philosophical about achieving higher consciousness… and then Terry breaks in.

 

“Call Berkmann,†he barks. Then he stalks away. As others ask him where he is going, he simply barks the same command, then turns and enters a small door in the side of the Blue Lantern Inn.

 

Inside Terry finds himself right where he wants to be… inside the kitchen of the inn. It is wide and lit by sunlight through dirty windows. Two young men stand at the counter, one folding dough and the other chopping vegetables into a dented tin colander. Terry looks at a number of fresh loaves of bread stacked along the side, and then at a large metal percolator from which comes the rich aroma of coffee. He pulls a wad of rumpled bills from his pocket, pulls half away, and dumps them on the counter… then picks up the coffee pot, a couple mugs, and three of the largest loaves of bread. The cooks are mildly surprised, but gladly accept the cash, which is tens of times more than the cost of the bread and coffee.

 

Returning to the Rover, terry hands out the bread and then pours some coffee. The others grab some camping tins from their packs in the Rover, and pour themselves cups of the rich brew. Then they all eat and drink in silence for a while. “You called Berkmann?†the only question. “Yeah,†the only answer.

 

After a while, the discussions of the previous night begin again, with each man supplying theories and descriptions. Each finds the food and coffee clears his heads, but after a while, they do notice some of the growing pedestrians and workers in the area looking at them. Terry pulls an old map out of the glove compartment and spreads it on the Rover’s hood, the bread basket holding down one corner and the coffee pot on another, all of the men gathering around as if debating what to do and where to go.

 

No conclusions can be made about the night previously, except that the woman… young/old… both… was clearly manipulating the situation. It is a mild revelation that both Damien and Ryu heard her voice thank them as they “died†in the battle.

 

“You didn’t hear it?†asks McGregor of Jones and Terry.

 

“You stayed to save her,†says Terry in a matter of fact way. “We didn’t†and Ryu nods at this. Jones is just quiet, turning to away from them, unable to meet their eyes.

 

(More later...)

[RDU Neil]

Secret Worlds - Bk 2 - Ep 3 (cont'd)

 

On the porch of the Blue Lantern, not fifteen feet from where the men have gathered, a woman steps out of the front door. Dark hair pulled back in a bun, with an apron over a simple cotton dress, she appears in her mid thirties. She walks to the rail of the porch and looks at the four men for a moment. They all stare back at her.

 

“One of you would be Mr. Owens?†she asks, in a rich, lightly accented English. “I was told to expect you… by the husband of my cousin.†She looks at each man, except for Jones, and settles on Terry.

 

“Yeah, that’s me,†he says finally.

 

“Wonderful!†she says, beaming. “I am sorry you did not spend the night with us, but we have rooms for you. You are our honored guests.†She gestures to each, and they slowly head up the stairs, after restocking and locking the off road vehicle full of weapons. “I will have one of my men keep an eye on your vehicle. You may pull it around back, if you wish.â€

 

Ryu pulls the vehicle around as the other three enter the inn. The main room is painted white, with heavy wood furniture, and the smells of eggs, ham, bread and other rich foods emanates through out. “Your rooms are on the second floor. No one else is staying here. Welcome. My name is Mechi,†she smiles at McGregor, misses Jones completely, and looks to Terry, who simply tromps upstairs without a word. “Gonna get some real sleep†he says, and throws his bag next to a bed, sticks a .45 under a pillow and crashes out without another word.

 

“Not a bad idea,†says Damien and looks to his own room, then remembers the truck. “We gotta watch the gear.â€

 

“I got it,†says Jones. “I’m feeling awake, and I want to work on some code.†Damien just nods as Ryu enters from the back, handing the keys to Jones, and telling him where the vehicle is parked. Jones heads to the back, to a small stable retrofitted as a storage shed, and Ryu and McGregor find there own place to rest. The inn is silent then, though the dockside bustles outside. Inside, the early morning passes to almost noon with the only movement being Mechi quietly setting up tables for lunch and the cooks in the kitchen talking quietly while they work.

 

-----------

 

Ryu wakes first, sitting up and the stepping quietly to the door of his room. He listens to the sounds from downstairs and outside, hearing nothing out of the ordinary. He steps out onto the bare wooden landing, and moves silently downstairs, a quick reconnoiter to make sure nothing has changed in a threatening way… and he returns upstairs, stripping down and showering in the common bathroom before the others awake.

McGregor and Terry both rouse to the sound of running water, and while Damien gives a comfortable “Good morning…†Terry says nothing, just sitting with his back against the wall. Damien shrugs and goes to get his own shower, enlivened by the rich smells of spiced pork from the kitchen below.

 

In the stifling hot cab of the SUV, Jones lies asleep on the keyboard of his laptop. He is startled awake by sharp wrapping on the Rover’s window, his head snapping up to see his settled nose had pressed out a long chain of p’s, “ppppppppppppppppppppp…†that has ruined the code he had been working on. Worse, his blurry eyes and pounding head, worse than the morning headache, are greeted by the visage of Dr. Berkmann, staring through the dusty glass and waving at him.

 

“Christ!†exclaims Jones in alarm. He fumbles for the door handle, pulling himself out, trying to keep his laptop from hitting the floor. He blinks at Berkmann’s “So what is happening? Your call sounded urgent? Give me the details? Something strange occurred?†Jones can only stammer, fighting against the nausea caused by his splitting head, and is grateful when Dr. Cole appears to pull Berkmann away toward the inn.

 

Together the three move inside the small common room, which has been laid out for dining. The food is a heady mix of Chinese, Malay and Spanish. There is an entire sideboard of pulutan already in place, and the smell of sautéed onions, beef stew and pork fills the air. McGregor and Ryu are aready beginning to eat, and stand up to greet the newcomers, offering them overflowing bowls of pancit, a mixture of steamed noodles and vegetables common to almost every meal.

 

From upstairs, Terry glares down at the arriving group, coming out of the shower, with just a towel, around him, but his shoulder rig in place, and his pistols sitting unclipped in their holster. Seeing Berkmann and Cole, his face gets even darker and more angry than before. He heads back to the room to change without so much as a hello.

 

Over a full meal, the group tells Berkmann and Dr. Cole what happened. The description is full of stops and starts, with each man stepping it to correct another if they forgot something. The full realization of the shared experience only serves to make the situation feel even more bizarre. Even Terry, come down from the room to eat, pitches in his own commentary, but in a terse manner that doesn’t really invite further questions. Berkmann presses a bit, but then backs off. Dr. Cole sits quietly, her blonde hair pulled up to keep the back of her neck cool, and takes notes… but her blue eyes are mostly looking towards Terry… watching him closely.

 

The conversation centers around the old/young woman… her connection with the black rickshaw, and trying to figure out what she wanted. “A test…†is agreed upon, but for what, no one knows. During the conversation, seeming distracted, McGregor quietly draws his sword, looking at the blade, turning it back and forth, as if trying to see something in the reflection. When asked, he mutters something about “I saw stars…†but then shrugs and sheaths the blade.

 

While the conversation progresses, with some heated debates and almost shouting, Mechi stands near the kitchen and is speaking to one of the cooks. The two whisper together for a few seconds before she notices Terry watching her. No one else seems to notice, and he says nothing, just staring at her with flat, hard eyes. With an upward glance she turns toward Terry, smiling and breaking off the conversation, but her movements are stiff and the cook looks surprised. She moves toward Terry, retying her apron and asks, “Do you need more drinks? Bread?†Her eyes are questioning and a little worried, though she continues to smile.

 

“We’re fine,†growls Terry, his voice flat and not a little threatening. The others take no notice. Mechi just nods, and moves away.

 

Terry turns back toward the group, then, and with a sharp shake of his head, says, “I don’t know… but this is too similar to what I’ve been through before. Someone is messing with our heads… someone is trying to influence us… maybe drugs… like conditioning…â€

 

“This has happened to you before,†asks Ryu. Terry just glares, “You think I would do something like this to myself?†he barks, holding out his left palm for th group to see the branded imprint of Kali. “I know what the thugee are capable of. They have done something to me… changed me… when they brought me back. I feel their influence inside me. No someone else might be doing the same thing!â€

 

At the mention of drugs, Berkmann perks up even more and begins snapping out questions. “Drugged you say? How? Through food or drink? Intravenous? Are you feeling after affects? Are your perceptions still altered?†His enthusiasm is even greater now, as he looks to the four men for information. That is when they begin to discuss the headaches they had felt, the dry, sticky taste in the back of the mouth. Jones talks about the headache returning after he spend more time in the van… and the smell…

 

“The smell?†says Berkmann… and each man nods, agreeing on that memorable scent of sweet… too sweet… rotten flower sweet, that reeked in the truck. Without another word, Martin is bustling out the door, looking for the Rover.

 

“Opiate derivative,†says Dr. Cole, and Martin nods his head in agreement. The two stand outside the Range Rover, latex gloves on their hands, having dabbed up samples of the thick dust coating the inside of the Range Rover. Most of it is road dust, but a sniff and a taste has them both conferring.

 

“Absolutely,†he says. “Likely combined with a synthetic hallucinogenic. Diethylamide-25 variants can last anywhere from 6-12 hours. This may be psychotropic more regionally based…hemp based, most likely… the source of that sweet odor..†At Dr. Cole’s raised eyebrow, he shrugs. “Think about it, my dear. If anyone is going to know about behavior and conscious altering drugs, it would be me.â€

 

As Berkmann talks, explaining his findings, Dr. Cole requests blood samples from each of the men. “If I can get some equipment, I can do an analysis compared with previous samples I have. That could be the really give us a clue, unless the chemical is fully processed and eliminated.â€

 

Berkmann busts in, “LSD processes out of the liver and kidney after a couple of hours, so we may be too late, but pure lysergic acid… an alkaloid derived from rye rust or Morning-Glory seeds… that is something we could find in the dust itself.†He continues to take multiple samples from the Rover, and tells the others that they should clean this vehicle fully before spending more time in it.

 

As to the blood samples, Ryu, Jones and Damien have no qualms about this, but when Cole approaches Terry, his distanced grumblings become hardened anger. “You just stay away from me, doc,†he snaps. His overt anger is unmistakable at this point… as is his defensive combat stance and fully armed and aggressive demeanor. Back inside the inn, everyone’s focus is on Terry and his almost paranoid behavior.

 

As they try to question him, he glares at Cole and Berkmann… mostly Cole, saying, “If we were drugged… I think I know who had the best chance to do that!†The others are shocked at his accusation, and Ryu tries to point out that they had not been around Cole for hours before the shared dream/hallucination took place. Terry is unconvinced, though his thoughts also turn toward Tazag and the gunrunners, who had opportunity to dust the Range Rover while the gun deal was taking place. There is a babble of conversation at this time, much of it trying to calm Terry down, but it is unsuccessful.

 

“This is too much,†Terry says finally. “Stang… all this stuff about Specials… this Grandmaster… now a possible another special… this woman… she had to have a way to control how the drug affected us… she’s going about drugging specials like us?†His voice rises in pitch and speed. “Don’t you see? Don’t you understand?†continues Terry still standing away from the group, back to a wall, keeping his distance. “Someone has to know about this!†His voice is strained. For the moment others are just quiet, then Terry turns away, taking the stairs three at a time. “I gotta check things out. I need to think about this!†The rest stare dumbfounded, Dr. Cole looking concerned and pensive… wanting to say something, but not sure what.

 

(More later)

[RDU Neil]

Secret Worlds - Bk 2 - Ep 3 (cont'd)

 

As Terry heads up stairs, the others see a man approaching the front door. It is Tazag, in a different floral print shirt, but still with the fishing hat. He waves through the window, and then enters with a hearty, “Gentleman! So good to see you again!†He grins at the others, who look at him cautiously and then everyone turns toward Terry. There is a tense moment as they wonder if Terry will act out, possibly even attacking Tazag… but the Brit just turns, and continues hurriedly up the stairs without a word.

 

Tazag looks about at everyone else, his grin faltering slightly. “Is everything alright, my friends?†The others just turn back to look at him, suspicion clear on their faces.

 

“It’s not yet five,†says Damien cautiously. “You are quite early.†Tazag turns to him, nodding.

 

“Yes, true, but I have not forgotten. I can find you passage on a boat. Big enough for vehicles and cargo. No worries!†His smile returns, open and friendly. “I actually was hoping to talk to you about something else. May I sit?†He gestures to an empty seat around the table, and the group nods cautiously.

 

Once seated, Tazag says hello and thanks his wife’s cousin, Mechi, taking the beer she offers, and sipping it, then looks at the others and says, “I fear I may be intruding on a very private issue, but I ask your forgiveness for my boldness. Is it true you have seen the black rickshaw?†Tazag notes their narrowed eyes, and forges on, hands up in supplication. “Please, please, I mean no harm. I know Mechi overheard you, though you joked that it was merely bar talk that you had been told. Yet… you have talked much about details that would never be heard in a bar.†He looks to McGregor and Ryu for confirmation.

 

“You know about this?†Damien asks. “Shadow ninjas and beautiful hot chicks that are old too?â€

 

“You have seen her?†asks Tazag, leaning forward. Damien and Ryu nod slightly, also watching Tazag’s reaction.

 

“So who is this woman?†says Damien. He pushes himself closer to Tazag, making sure the man is looking right at him. “You seem to know something. Give us a name.â€

 

“Mother Shell,†says Tazag, simply, sitting back, hands on his chest and large stomach. “It is an old name, a legend… but real. What you have described…†he sits heavily, eyes far away in thought, “It matches so many of the stories… but it is so rare… and NEVER outsiders.†He shrugs as if to apologize. “Never white men.â€

 

“It is a test of sorts… as I think you know,†continues Tazag. “She is a protector. She keeps the isles safe when they are threatened. Old stories, about demons and monsters and the warriors that face them. Myths, really...†he pauses, pursing his lips as he thinks, and saying, “But she is real in a way…â€

 

“Testing us?†ask the others. “For what?†Tazag shrugs. “I am not an expert. They say she knows the souls of men. Are they righteous or corrupt? Why she would be interested in you…†he looks to the two men, glances upstairs toward Terry, “… I don’t know.†Tazag looks around. “Wasn’t there a forth man with you?â€

 

Dr. Cole glances around with the rest of the group. “Where did Jones go?†she asks.

 

----------

(more later)

[RDU Neil]

Secret Worlds - Bk 2 - Ep 3 (cont'd)

 

Nobody saw him leave. Not surprising, even though his friends seem to have an easier and easier time seeing him, the more they hang out together. It’s an aspect of his power… his curse… that Jones hasn’t really thought about too much. What does it mean that part of him doesn’t want to stop being invisible… or un-noticeable… whatever he is. He shakes his head and continues observing Terry.

 

Jones has been very quiet while he watched Terry. The man is heavily armed and very tense. Jones has no desire to surprise him and take a bullet in the head. So for the last fifteen minutes, he has just watched.

 

Always professional, Owens had never seemed anything but cool… in even combat pressure-cooker situations. Now, Jones stares as the man moves from room to room with a quick, clipped pace. Terry’s face is set with a grim intensity and his jaw knots as he clearly clenches his teeth, like biting back anger. Jones stands silently as Terry opens all the doors, looks in all the closets, then clambers up on to the roof, taking the ladder that leads to a trap door at the end of the third floor hall. Owens carries with him a pair of binoculars.

 

Jones creeps along behind, still being careful as Terry paces back and forth scanning every direction with the field glasses, moving his position then scanning again. When not steadying the binoculars, Jones notices Terry’s hands regularly coming up to brush against the grips of his SOCOM’s. His pistols continue to sit in unsecured shoulder holsters, ready for the quick draw. The hand movement seems a reassuring gesture. Letting himself know that they are still there.

 

As there is nothing much to see up here, Terry takes a few deep breaths, letting them out slowly. The sun bakes him, but he doesn’t notice, still peering about at the bustle of humanity on the dock road.

 

Seeing him relax, however slightly Jones finally speaks, willing himself visible, hands out and empty. “Don’t see anything, Terry?†he asks, blood going a bit cold as the ex-SAS soldier whips around on him, guns half drawn from their holsters.

 

“Jesus, Jones!†he says, slamming the pistols back into place. “Shoulda known,†he mutters. Turning around more, looking for the others.

 

“It’s just me, Terry,†says Jones, trying to look relaxed while focusing hard to keep himself clear and visible to Owens. “You seem really wired. I know some weird stuff went down last night. You want to talk about it?†His voice is easy and casual. He wants to put no pressure on Owens. The Brit isn’t the most open guy around, but maybe…

 

Terry surprises Jones then… looking directly at him, and saying very plainly. “I’m leaving. I’m out of here. I can’t go on like this.†He shakes his head.

 

Jones tries to interrupt… tries to ask questions… but Terry just brushes him off. His mind is made up. “I need to go back. I need to let my people know what is going on. Specials, druggings, the thugee, demon ninjas, Stang… this is big, bigger than I thought, and I suddenly realize I have a responsibility.â€

 

“To who?†asks Jones carefully, trying to still sound casual. “I mean, if you want to talk to some people I’m sure we could…â€

 

“No!†Terry cuts him off. “It’s Queen & Country, eh? I don’t expect you to understand… but I’m going back to Manila. I’m going to turn myself in. They think I’m dead… hell, I’ll be in serious trouble, since I’m officially AWOL. But I have to tell them. They need to know this information. I don’t really know what Stang wants… what this Grandmaster might want… what this black rickshaw woman is all about… but I can do this. I can go home.â€

 

Jones is dumbfounded. He stammers and hems & haws, trying to think of something to say. About the best he can manage is, “Come back down and we can…â€

 

Again, Terry waves him silent. “So… just tell them what I told you,†says Terry. He looks away from Jones who is clearly concentrating hard and trying to make sure Terry sees him. “I’ve gotta go,†he repeats, and with that, Terry just steps off the roof of the three story building, dropping away.

 

Jones looks over in surprise and a touch of panic to see Terry land, smoothly, easily… forty feet below. His knees bending to take the impact that would likely have snapped a normal man at the ankles, Terry just stands straight and strides up the street like a man stepping off the curb. With a curse, Jones grabs the corner gutter pipe and begins shimmying down after. It is actually an easy climb, but it takes almost 30 seconds, and by then Terry is at the corner. Owens is around it and out of sight before Jones can sprint after him. When Jones reaches the corner, he is just in time to see Terry piling into a brightly colored taxi and slamming the door behind him a block down the street. The car begins pulling away, and Jones just watches.

 

â€Shit,†says Jones, then pulls out his cell phone and dials Damien. When McGregor answer, Jones simply says, “Terry’s gone.â€

 

(More later)

[RDU Neil]

Secret Worlds - Bk 2 - Ep 3 (cont'd)

 

Once back inside the inn, Jones tries to explain Terry’s leaving as best he can. Damien is incredulous, and Dr. Cole gets noticeably upset. “He did what? Where did he go?†she demands of Jones. When he tells her about the cab she immediately pulls out her cell phone and dials Terry’s number. It rings twice, and then Terry answers.

 

(Screen split, half the image showing Dr. Cole talking into her cell phone as she paces back and forth in the inn. The other half shows Terry sitting in the backseat of the cab, stern faced, body rocking as the cab bumps it’s way out of town, cell phone to his ear.)

Owens: “You have two minutes.â€

 

Cole: Hesitates at the coldness in Terry’s voice, then, “Terry, I was just told you are leaving. Is this true?â€

 

Owens: “What do you want, Doc? Clock’s running.â€

 

Cole: “Terry, think about this. Your behavior is unusual. You may not be thinking clearly…â€

 

Owens: “I know what I’m doing. One minute, thirty seconds.â€

 

Cole: “Terry, please. Listen to me. You may still be under the influence of the drug we discovered. It may be causing you to be reacting this way…â€

 

(Ryu tries to break in to take the phone, but Cole pulls away, still talking. The others in the main room watch intently.)

 

Cole: “Terry, this is not a rational act. To simply turn and leave your friends…â€

 

Owens: Cutting off Cole, “How do I know you’re not in on this, Doc? Eh? You had opportunity… you were doing tests. You and Stang had been studying me and other specials. Why should I listen to you? It’s done… I’m gone. Let it alone.â€

 

Cole starts to speak again, but Ryu grabs the phone from her, stepping in, voice firm but quiet, trying to commiserate with Terry, referring to the dream battle as a shared experience… a connection… something they can work through as a team.

 

Terry is having none of it. “Look. It’ll be a few hours before I get to Manila and turn myself in to the British Consulate. They’ll process me… it will take some time, but eventually they will question me, and I’m going to tell them everything. MI-6… they’ll know about you. Take the time, move on.â€

 

Ryu tries again to speak, but Terry simply says, “Goodbye,†and cuts off the line.

 

“God dammit!†says Cole, as she sees Ryu shrug. Immediately she begins grabbing her bags, especially her medical bag… checking for her gear, then heading for the door. “I’m going to go get him. This is crazy.â€

 

Ryu shakes his head. “Each person must do what they must. He has chosen his path.â€

 

“BULLSHIT!†yells Cole. “He’s clearly suffering from some kind of psychoactive paranoia. It’s a highly common reaction to a bad trip. He’s not able to think rationally, to separate the illusion from reality. He needs help.†She slips her sunglasses on and shoulder her heavy bag, turning as she heads out the door. “You guys get things straight here. I’ll bring him back. I’ll call you when I can.†Then she is out the door and running to the corner, hailing a taxi.

 

The rest of the group is left in the Inn. No one talks for the moment, each man picking at his food and thinking his own thoughts. Damien’s face is angry, Vincent’s worried and sad. Ryu is implacable and calm as ever, while Jones’ looks around, questions going unasked. Berkmann watches everyone, and scratches down a few notes in his omni-present notebook.

 

There is a chirp and a bell, and Damien looks down at his own cell phone, which sits on the table. The screen indicates Terry as the caller.

 

When Damien does answer his hello is neither friendly nor sympathetic. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry,†says Terry. For the first time, his voice is not harsh or distant. “I know this is no good, but I have to do it. Just… I’m sorry.†Terry finishes and there is only the quiet hiss of empty air, then…

 

“Whatever,†is Damien’s only reply, and he slaps the phone shut.

[RDU Neil]

Secret Worlds - Bk 2 - Ep 3 (cont'd)

 

In the Inn, Tazag breaks the silence, nodding his head toward Vincent. “I do have a question. You work with the Russians?†Everyone turns to look at Vincent.

 

“No… he’s just a tag along,†says Damien. “What do you know about the Russians?†He asks this last part slowly, a new tension suddenly filling the air.

 

Tazag dispels this quickly with a grumble and a shake of his head. “They are scum. Competitors, actually. They have been hedging in on my business… transporting and selling weapons… they obviously have connections in the Russian army still… and worse, they are dealing drugs…†Tazag spits, not noticing the small smiles of knowing that flash across the faces of Damien, Ryu, Berkmann and Jones. “They will sell anything to anyone. They even sell arms to the rebels in the south. Jihadists… fanatics.†Tazag spits again.

 

“No, we aren’t friends with the Russians,†says Ryu, looking back over his shoulder at the sheepish Vincent, who looks down.

 

----------

 

Terry sits in the back of the cab as it bumps along the road. The sun is bright and cuts through the windshield to bake the inside of the vehicle. Terry folds his cell phone closes and just stares straight ahead, keeping his loose shirt closed to the dust, and to cover the pistols he wears beneath it. His face is unemotional, with only an occasional squint against the glare.

 

Ahead of the cab, coming from the north, and heading south on the other side of the road, Terry spies vehicles. He thinks nothing of it, as this road is well used, but something catches his eye, and he continues to watch the line of four cars approach. One car and three vans, actually… and the car… the Mercedes sedan in front…

 

Terry sits up. He’s seen that car before. At the dock when he and Vincent arrived some days ago.

 

Zwissh… the Mercedes passes him. Yes… the same car, the driver’s window down, revealing two men, big, blonde military cuts, sunglasses. Then the next van… zwisshhh.. and the next zwisshhh… zwisshhh… All four vehicles filled with the same. Crew cut, broad shouldered… fourteen to sixteen total. There are at least three squads of Russian soldiers, ex-soldiers, all heading to Lucena.

 

When the phone rings again, no one moves immediately to answer it. Damien just stares at the call-screen until just before the voice mail would kick in. Then he snatches up the phone and answers with a simple “What?â€

 

Back in the cab, Terry is turned, watching the four vehicle convoy head toward Lucena. “The Russians are coming,†he says flatly. “I just saw four vehicles, three vans and the Mercedes we originally saw at the docks. That’s sixteen men.†On the other end, Damien takes the news and quietly relays it to the others, waiting to see what else Terry might say.

 

In the cab, Terry turns back toward the front. Out the rear window, the Russian vehicles can be seen to disappear over a rise in a cloud of dust. “Just thought you should know. You’ve got maybe twenty minutes,†says Terry calmly, and then he hangs up. If there is any regret or indecision inside him, he shows none of it. The cab simply keeps on driving, heading north. In a few minutes it is gone, like the Russian vehicles, leaving nothing but an empty road under a hot sun.

 

-----------

 

“Christ,†mutters Damien at the dead line. “We’ve got Russian’s coming, just twenty minutes out. Terry isn’t part of this. We need to get out of here, now.â€

 

Tazag is on his feet in a hurry. “Here? My city?†He looks surprised at first, then angry… then he begins to calculate. As the others talk about what to do, Tazag looks down, thinking… then his head comes up.

 

“My friends. Go to Pier 3. I will have a ship there. We will be leaving earlier than expected… but first, I must get some of my men. We must meet these Russians. To come here… they must want something very badly.†Again, the others glance at Vincent, but Tazag doesn’t notice. “We must make them pay for such action.†With that, he hustles out the front door, pulling out his own cell phone as he goes. He moves quickly for a big man, belying muscle, not fat, under his billowing shirt.

 

Though still shaken by Terry’s departure, and Cole running after him, this doesn’t stop the remaining five men from moving quickly and efficiently. In under two minutes their rooms cleared and the two SUVs packed and moving toward the docks. No one speaks, or really needs to be told what to do. Even Vincent just quietly pulls together, carries the bags and moves out, though Berkmann’s can read his confusion at Terry’s departure in every move the big kid makes. Still taken aback himself at the rending of their little group, Berkmann can only think that Terry’s professional soldier side would have been impressed at the way the group moved… almost like a team… smoothly, without rancor or dissent. Martin just sighs to himself as they drive on to the docks. The irony of the situation is not lost on him, though he finds Terry’s reaction of extreme paranoia… to run TO authority instead of away from it… to be highly fascinating. “Something to study another day,†he thinks, “If we can get away.â€

 

----------

 

Finding Dock 3 turns out to be easy. It’s not just a dock, but the main pier, extending perpendicular from the dockside road, out over a quarter of a mile into the bay. The problem is not finding Dock 3… the problem is that there is no indication which of the many large ships… trawlers and tugs and small passenger ships… is Tazag’s.

 

With the Rovers parked at the beginning of the dock, Jones and Berkmann head down the pier, looking at the larger ships and fishing boats moored there. Feeling somewhat exposed, out on the dock road, Vincent is left with the two vehicles, while Damien heads a hundred feet west, along the bay wall, to a place where he can scan the traffic. His sword is by his side, and he carries the Beretta Model 12S SMG they purchased the night before in his left hand with a loose cloth draped over it for cover. The weapon feels awkward in his hand, a machine with only one purpose, killing another human being with great efficiency. Despite knowing how and when to use it, Damien is, for the first time, conscious that such situations are something he really wants to avoid. These brutal, artless battles are exactly what he tried to get away from when he left the family. Now… they seem inevitable. He finds himself oddly depressed by that thought.

 

Ryu has no such qualms. Without hesitation, he had unpacked the HK PSG-1. “At least Terry bought us some nice guns before he left,†he thinks. After loading two clips with 7.62 ammunition and checking the scope, he had vanished across the dock road, behind the buildings that line the side opposite the bay. Now he appears, rolling on to the top of the roof of an old dry-dock repair building, and scampers to the front. Across from him he can see Vincent and the Rovers… then farther west, Damien leaning against one of the large pylons next to a fish vendor. From this vantage point, Ryu has 95 percent of the dock road as a possible kill zone. The only difficulty is that the rest of the town rises up the slope, away from the bay, behind him. From farther up in town, anyone on a roof or looking out a window might be looking down on Ryu’s position. He moves to put a small vent wall between himself and possible viewers, then slams home a clip and chambers a round into the lethal sniper rifle, settling in to wait.

 

As minutes tick by, Damien jogs back to Vincent and tell him to drive up the pier. “Get one Rover ready to go, as soon as Jones or Berkmann finds the right ship!†Vincent does so, slowly maneuvering up the pier. He sees Berkmann chatting with a fisherman, but it is clearly not the correct boat, so he continues on.

 

Jones, meanwhile, has found the boat… ship… he thinks. A larger trawler, a merchant vessel with a light cargo crane, called the King Phillip II. While it has a number of workers, they aren’t busy loading or unloading like the others. In fact, most seem to be standing along the rail looking toward the city, as if waiting for something. Jones strides up the gangplank unchallenged, and moves toward a man who appears to be the foreman. He is talking with the others, as if giving them orders. There is an air of nervousness. The men talk amongst each other in English and Tagalog mixed with a smattering of Spanish, and Jones picks up the name Tazag at least twice. At that moment, he sees Vincent drive by slowly in the Range Rover, and tries to wave to him, then realizes the Russian just won’t see him, and sheepishly lowers his hand. Instead he concentrates on the foreman and walks up saying, “Hello sir. Are you waiting for us?â€

 

All the men jump, and Jones sees at least one slap his hand on the butt of a revolver tucked in the small of his back. “Wait, please, I know Tazag. We are the men he might have told you to wait for?†Hesitant at first, the men quickly accept Jones, when one recognizes him from the buy the night before. Jones then calls Berkmann and tells him to bring the other Rover to the boat and to retrieve Vincent. The young Russian had made it to the end of the pier and precariously turned the Rover around, looking to come back. When he sees Berkmann bring the second Range Rover up to stop at a large ship, he drives back to meet him. The crew immediately begins to work strapping the Rovers into large webs of heavy canvas straps. These cargo nets terminate in a heavy metal ring that the crane hook can lift, bringing the vehicle on board without damage. “This will take maybe twenty five minutes,†says the foreman, and Jones relates the information to Damien.

 

Back on the dock road, two hundred yards from where the boat is being loaded, Damien and Ryu continue to wait. The crowd continues with it’s business in the high heat of the day, when suddenly the distant pop and crack of small arms fire can be heard echoing down from the northern reaches of the town. Both turn, as do others on the street, looking back up the hill, up into the city, for the source of the gunfire. It is many blocks away, and echoes shift the source, but both men understand. Tazag has engaged the Russians… at least some of them.

 

That is when Damien sees the Mercedes. Far up the eastern end of the dock road, he spies the tinted window Mercedes sedan creeping through the crowd. There are many pedestrians, carts, cycles and other motorized vehicles along the road, and the Mercedes can’t move very quickly but it is making its way toward the main pier. Damien calls into his phone and alerts the others. At the news, Ryu adjusts his trajectory, and begins tracking the Mercedes’ approach. He keeps half and ear cocked for the sporadic gunfire continuing north of him, in case it begins to sound closer to his position. On the street below him the cilvilians on the dock are stirred up, shouts about the echoing gunfire go up, and many begin moving hurriedly, trying to get off the road, many of them moving north, away from the bay, as if to get closer and find out what the shooting is all about.

 

At the King Philip II, Jones has nothing to do. The echoing gunfire can be heard faintly, and the buzz among the ship’s crew goes up a notch. Whispered questions and furtive looks clearly indicating something serious is going on. Jones watches as Vincent pulls one of the assault rifles from the back of the Rover, and heads up the narrow metal stairs to a higher perch on the ship, straining to look back toward shore. With that, Jones tells Berkmann to make sure the vehicles get aboard, then turns and begins sprinting back toward shore, pulling his Mk23 as he goes. The fact that he is running hell bent TOWARD a confrontation and likely close quarters gunfight doesn’t even occur to him at the moment.

[RDU Neil]

Secret Worlds - Bk 2 - Ep 3 (Finale)

 

The Mercedes takes some seconds to pull through the crowd, and Damien watches tensely. It speeds up as the crowd begins to thin, only a couple of hundred feet from the entrance to the pier.

 

“This is stupid,†mutters Damien. “I’m going to talk to these guys. It’s just business.†With that, he steps out of his position against he pier, letting the shirt fall away from his gun, but not raising it or drawing his sword. Instead he just walks to the center of the dock road, in clear sight of the advancing Mercedes, and stands there. He knows these men should recognize him from when he was there to meet Terry and Vincent. “Don’t want to appear weak,†he thinks, “But these guys aren’t stupid. We can work something out.â€

 

Thirty feet from Damien, the Mercedes begins to slow, and the passenger door opens. The big Russian there goes out the door, low and fast. Damien tenses, seeing the man cradling a AKM with collapsible stock… but the man doesn’t attack, and instead disappears in between the buildings facing the bay. “A flanker…†think Ryu, from above, and snarls a little, as the man moved too quickly for a shot. That, and he doesn’t know what Damien is up to. He fights with his instinct to open fire right away.

 

Twenty feet from Damien, the Mercedes stops, with the van behind it. The driver side door opens, as do doors on both sides of the van. Stepping out simultaneously is the Mercedes driver and the van empties four men on to the road behind him. Each is armed with an AK variant, and they all carry them like they were born with them in their hands.

 

“That’s a lot of fire power…†mutters Damien.

 

The driver of the Mercedes, clearly a leader of these men, just looks at Damien, then says, “And what is this?†in heavily accented English.

 

Damien smiles. “I just thought we might chat. Work out a deal. I don’t see why this has to end in violence, eh?†Damien shrugs, never raising his guns… trying to look calm and confident, though his eyes are darting between all five of the men forming up before him.

 

“Really…†he continues. “Can we talk. Maybe we can…â€

 

And that’s when Damien sees the movement. It is small, subtle, a shrug and head tilt from the leader, ending with a slight tip of the left finger pointing toward Damien. Not a gesture that would draw much attention, but it screams its lethal intent to Damien. “Shit, shit, shit…†he mutters starting to raise his hands in a gesture of supplication, as four heavy assault rifles snap up toward him with practiced precision.

 

“FUCK!†screams Damien as he dives right, FAST, going tight up against one of the large pylons… putting the two foot thick tarred wood between himself and the hail of heavy lead rounds that roar his way. His scream of “God damn it!†is lost in the blast of the Kalashnikovs. Splinters of wood explode around his head as he clutches the Model 12 to his chest.

 

This same hail nearly wipes Jones away. Coming up, unseen, behind McGregor, the bullets miss him by inches only because the Russians were aiming three feet to his right. Only his fumbling with the silencer on his pistol slowed him from running headlong into a very messy end. He freezes for a second at the sight of all that gunfire, but then immediately notes the Russian soldier moving up from the others, trying to get an angle on Damien, leaving Jones unnoticed.

 

Then Ryu puts the leader down with a chest shot. A crack, almost drowned out by the raging chop of the assault rifles, but the sudden sight of their leader spinning backward in a spray of blood definitely catches the attention of the rest of the crew.

 

Their hesitation is Jones’ opening. He levels his pistol at the left flanker and fires. The man’s loose shirt tugs and red blossoms around him as he collapses, gut shot, stopping him from moving into position on Damien. Jones’ silenced pistol goes unheard in the sharp chatter of Damien’s SMG as he sprays around the pylon, in the general direction of the car.

 

Seeing two of their compatriots go down, and realizing there is a sniper, two of the remaining three hunker down behind the armored doors of the Mercedes, as the third goes to his left, to the sea wall putting another large pylon between himself and Damien.

 

The driver from the van, now hunkered over his wounded leader, concentrates his fire on the only target he can see, Damien. This time, the Irishman’s luck runs out, as the 7.62 round slams into his exposed left shoulder. A heavy rifle round that hits square on could have torn the Damien’s light vest like tissue paper, but here angle of entry and the Kevlar mesh slow the bullet just enough that it doesn’t punch through all the way. The impact is still immense, slamming McGregor around, shattering his clavicle and sending bone chips through his latissimus dorsi. His feet go out from beneath him and he slumps down, hands going numb and his SMG sliding into his lap, sword clattering to the ground.

 

Jones immediately moves up, covering Damien, and taking aim at the upper rim of the car door, where the Russian soldier just fired. He breathes out… and just as the blonde head sticks up to take a look, Jones squeezes a perfect steady shot. “Sss—cchhkk†of the slide is the only sound made as the Mk23 silenced fires. The top of the Russian’s head explodes backward, as the massive .45 caliber bullet enters his frontal load over the left eye and liquefies bone and brain alike.

 

This leaves only two Russians moving, but the one directly opposite McGregor and Jones lays down further fire, keeping the both pinned behind their pylon. Gasping against the pain of his injured shoulder, McGregor opens his eyes to the ‘plink’ of .45 caliber shell casings from Jones gun falling on his head. He focuses of Jones who yells something about covering him and positions, then twists his head left, out over the water, glancing behind him. Twelve feet to another pylon and he can just see a sliver of the Russian’s shirt flapping out in the open. With a groan and a curse he pushes himself to his feet, his back sliding up the rough wood. Another glance… gauging the distance in trying to close on the gunman, noting he might be able to get around the current pylon and maybe flip the gutting table there up for cover. The lead flying around him does nothing but point out the dangers of moving from his cover at all.

 

Then another rifle crack echoes… and the gunman who had cover from Jones and Damien goes spinning out over the water his blood pumping from a chest wound and his hand convulsing on the trigger of his AK. The automatic rifle sends rounds chopping into the air before disappearing with a splash into the filthy harbor. Looking back, Jones sees the flicker of movement along the roofline where Ryu had managed to shift and flank the Russians from his “god†position.

 

Damien moves, coming around his pylon, under the thick plank of the fish gutting table that lay between the pylons, looking for a target. He sees the original driver of the Mercedes… severely wounded by Ryu’s first shot, crawling into the car. In anger, Damien sprays the 9mm SMG across the front of the vehicle, emptying the twenty round clip. The pistol rounds are mostly stopped by the light armor of the vehicle, but a few penetrate, and damage is done. There is a loud pop and hiss of a valve or pipe being cut and seconds later smoke begins to issue from the hood seams.

 

That’s when the first Russian to move… the Mercedes passenger who had faded into the buildings opposite the harbor, makes his appearance. He’d moved quickly, circling behind the buildings, and now comes out of a narrow alley completely exposing McGregor and Jones to his own flanking fire.

 

And once again, Jones’ “curse†saves him. Whatever the natural perceptions that Jones’ somehow affects, it clearly causes others to see, hear or otherwise notice everything else before they see him. In this case, the Russian sees only McGregor, oblivious to Jones not ten feet in front of him.

 

“Damien! Get down!†screams Jones, turning his own gun on the new target. The sudden shout startles the soldier for just a second as his eyes try to see where the voice came from. In that heartbeat, Damien rolls. Ignoring the screaming pain of his shoulder, he goes over backwards toward the water, grabbing hold of the thick rope lining the dock wall as he falls. A wall of lead explodes over his head as he grasps the rope, white knuckled, and uses the rope to redirect his downward momentum into an upward swing, coming back up on to the deck behind the pylon recently vacated by the sniped enemy.

 

Jones fires. Saved again by being just out of the line of fire, he sees the last Russian’s eyes go wide at Jones’ appearance and begin to twist his arc of fire. Jones’ hasty shot is inaccurate… but good enough. Off balance and panicked Jones shot low, but the bullet hit the Russian anyway, entering into the top of his foot through his canvas sandals. The impact spins him to the ground, and he rolls back, into the dark cover of the alley with a angry snarl of pain as Jones snaps more shots in his direction.

 

For a moment there is silence, but it lasts only long enough to emphasize the new eruption of fire that is suddenly directed at the Mercedes. Jones turns to see the a bloody execution. Only two Russians still live, and that ends quickly. Jones watches as Damien strides forward, the Model 12 in his one good hand as his other clumsily slaps a new clip in place. The bolt clicks home, and Damien’s finger convulses on the trigger. The squad leader of the Russians had pulled himself into the driver’s seat and was attempting to start the vehicle. Damien ends his life with half a clip of 9mm rounds that tear through his torso and legs, spraying blood all over the interior of the German sedan. Damien’s face is a mask of anger, pain and disgust at this purposeful slaughter.

 

The last Russian, previously wounded by Jones in the stomach, fires wildly at Damien through the open vehicle, and Damien ducks back and away. Then two more rifle cracks are heard. One round hits the open passenger door. It doesn’t penetrate the armored door, but the impact slams it shut, leaving the wounded man exposed to Ryu. He clutches his belly wound and stares upward toward the roofline where Ryu is positioned.

 

(Camera pans from the slamming door to the man’s bloody panicked face, then streams backward and up in fast reverse, to the muzzle of Ryu’s PSG-1. The image focuses in on Ryu’s finger, and then slides sideways to show the small smile on Ryu’s face. Then it snaps back to the index finger, which pulls the trigger. The trigger retreats under the pressure until “CLICK,†and the image freezes as the camera view zooms rapidly inside the rifle to the chamber. There is a close up of the long brass cylinder of the rifle round, and the view traces the 51mm length from the pointed steel tip, to the rimmed butt. There, the cordite blackened steel hammer snaps down on the silver striking circle centered in brass. There is a flash of orange fire, and the camera image rockets down the interior of the barrel riding the ball of flaming, compressed gas. From dark to light, the image exits with a crack, continuing to blur through the air as it returns to the original position beneath the shocked face of the Russian soldier. It stops with lethal finality and a wet ‘thwuck’ in his chest, and all is erased from view with a lens coating spray of red!)

 

-----------

 

Silently, Ryu and Jones stand on the deck of the King Phillip. Their vehicles and gear loaded, they stare across the docks watching as tentative fisherman and others begin to move back into the open and check out the dead and dying among ruined vehicles. Only fifteen minutes have passed, and no one has accosted them. The men of the King Phillip work quickly and quietly, the foreman and ship captain standing with their passengers. Vincent stands quietly off to the side, still holding his rifle, used to these lulls in combat, and expecting fighting to start up again at any moment.

 

Damien sits alone on and oil drum, cradling his injured right arm in his lap, and holding his sword, recovered from the dock, loosely in his left hand. He has peeled away the light body armor he was wearing, revealing ugly red and black wound on his shoulder. Crew past by him, but he doesn’t acknowledge them, and flat, dark look on his face warning them away.

 

Berkmann steps up from the hold to say that everything has been secured, but he can tell no one really cares, and keeps his peace.

 

Soon a car can be seen moving amongst the growing crowds on the dock road. The people part for it, and it turns onto the long pier of Dock 3 and begins to zip toward the ship. It is a green Mini Cooper with white racing stripes with it’s suspension raised to provide at least eight more inches of clearance. Then it was outfitted with slightly larger, knobby all-terrain tires. Odd as it looks, it moves easily up the dock, to come to a halt by the ship. The foreman and captain smile as Tazag himself gets out of the passenger seat, gingerly standing up. He leans heavily on the door and his left thigh can be seen to be tightly wrapped in fresh white gauze. A seeping red can be seen to be leaking through the gauze, but Tazag’s face is wide and beaming. He shouts out a greeting and something else in Tagalog, and the ship’s crew cheers. Tazag begins hobbling up the gangplank, supporting himself with a fifty-year old wood stocked FN FAL that he uses as a crutch.

 

When he reaches the top he grins madly at Damien and Ryu, nodding to Jones and Dr. Berkmann and says, “A mighty battle, eh?†Then he laughs loud, reaching to shake Damien’s hand, but the other man just nods. The lack of response sobers Tazag a bit, and then he speaks in a much more subdued tone. “We won a good fight today. You did a good thing for me. I owe you much.†He looks to all of them and asks, “Your friend, Mr. Owens? He did not return?â€

 

Nobody answers him directly, and the smile leaves his face. “I understand. We talk later. For now, my ship and I are at your disposal.†Tazag looks at Damien. “Let us get you away from this place and tend to your wounds. There will be time for plans and celebration later.â€

 

Tazag barks a couple of phrases to the Captain, and the ship’s crew springs into action, bustling about to complete the disembarkation.

 

(Camera pans backward slowly as the group… Damien, Ryu, Jones, Berkmann and Vincent stand along the rail. Within moments the last of the tie ropes are cast off, and the large ship begins to move. It’s diesel engine thrums, and it’s smoke stack belches black soot into the humid late afternoon. Camera pans back further as the ship pulls away, heading south, out of the bay and toward the inner sea of the Filipino islands. The five men simply stand and watch as the world is left behind them.

 

(Fade to black.)

[RDU Neil]

Re: Secret Worlds - Bk 2 - Ep 3 (Finale)

 

The Good:

Despite the fact that the play group imploded on this night, the game itself actually had some shape and form. Can't say that was really all me... I think everyone was trying... but the simple fact that a session was completed at all was amazing.

 

The Bad:

This sesssion ended SW, for now. There was confusion and disagreement and emotions got heavy... and basically I got really bummed out by it all and haven't role played since. Very clearly that different expectations and desires were incompatible in this game... at least at this time.

 

The Ugly:

A lot of mistakes were made by me. The primary one was throwing in the combat at the end. I had it planned, but should have realized that it wasn't necessary. The guys did their best, but Terry leaving was so emotionally disruptive that nobody but Eric was really into it. (Eric is ALWAYS into combat... and I admire that in a player. ) I didn't play the bad guys with my normal attention to detail... and the combat was pretty one sided and didn't have the emotional "pow" that other combats have had.

 

In the end, we'll see what happens with SW. It was an experiment in "create as you go" for me, and that was great for some players, and frustrating for others. I was attempting to change some playing/gaming styles that didn't really take with the group (being less directive as GM, when the nights that were most effective were the ones where I pushed the situation with my own agenda.) The big issue I realized is that, while our group functions well with a long, established campaign, our disfunctions show up when we try new ideas, new games or systems, and we have conflicting expectations.

 

I have enjoyed doing these write ups, but they are an insane amount of work. I want to continue doing them for whatever game I run next, but I don't know if I can manage the time and still run an effective session every week. Time will tell.

[Avatar]

Re: Dark Champions: Secret Worlds

 

Neil, I appauld you and your players with trying something new. I appauld you personally for taking time to write these up and letting us in on your world.

 

I find with most gamers I have met, they are capable of only one type of character and normally only want to play one type of game. Some close friends of mine will play anything set in front of them, but will mention twice a night, "wouldn't D&D been fun, when can we start another campaign." Or they play any and all systems, but its the same character in a different world, where only the game system makes it different.

 

You guys pulled the rabbit out of the hat on this one IMHO, and even if it did die at the end, or just lapse into a coma until later, you all did make it work while it was here. I will always be gratefull for you letting ME view this creation, and I am already trying to splice some of your world into mine so it won't be dead, call it Gaming Cloning if you will.

 

 

Thank you all, and I hope you will get the urge and time to share more of your worlds with us, cause I for one quite enjoyed the ride.

 

 

Peace

[James Gillen]

Re: Dark Champions: Secret Worlds

 

The game's over? What a bummer.

 

JG

[RDU Neil]

Re: Dark Champions: Secret Worlds

 

For now. If I start it back up again, it will probably be somewhat different in cast of players and charcters. We'll see. Sorry, dude.