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Crash! Boom! Bang! Fire Good!

So, Tuesday morning, I told Bartok that he was going to have to fend for himself for a bit, but if he had trouble finding food, there was always the dog-kibble dispenser on the roof. He was not amused.

I pulled the Switchback out of storage and got it ready to roll. I’d slept like crap again (fucking Nephrandi. fucking dreams) and the lack of sleep was starting to show in a few ways. Mostly in the way I was getting distracted by things far, far, too easily. Staring off into space, as my tired-assed-brain tried to catch up with whatever it was my body was doing. Doesn’t take all that much lost sleep to zombify a person. No wonder Silvertip was acting all screwy. Well, that and the dream bits. Eww.

Hopefully, by helping the stubborn wolf face her nightmare and win, her dreams’ll go away now. Although, with my current issues, there may be more to her problem than simple nightmares. At the very least, I hope I helped with the whole ‘all guys wanna screw me(and some girls) and I’m scared of them’ thing that she was suffering from. She’s an Athro Ahroun. She’s better equipped to say /fuck NO/ than nearly anyone else on the planet. 

Oh jesus. Fuck. Could have sworn I just saw someone watching me, reflected in the Switchback’s siding.

Of course, when I looked behind me, no-one was there. I'd noticed the reflection, after looking up from packing away some things in the saddle bags, because I could have sworn I’d heard someone call me by my raven-name. Fuck. Maybe getting a super shiny silver bike wasn't the best idea after all, eh? God. Guy, girl? Couldn't tell, but they were creepy looking. Geeze.

Almost forgot. Fuck. Called up Quin and asked about the dart I’d given him. He had some results, but I explained that I’d be out of town for a few days and that it’d be best if he just gave his report to anyone it’d be useful too. Also warned him that the person I got the dart from want to stay anonymous. So, if anyone asked, the dart came from me. Beyond that, who knows! Arranged for a pick up, went over to the site on the wing, picked up the dart and came back with it. Crammed it into the Switchback’s saddle bags. Gonna let all the Corax at the next meet’n greet get a good look at it. That way, if anyone comes across something similar, they can report the finding to everyone else.

Finally hit the road around 10-10:30am. Little later than I’d wanted, but not so late that mom’d start to freakout on me. Everything was going fairly well, until I’d almost made it to the meet-up spot I’d worked out with my mom. I’d been having this itchy feeling between my shoulder blades for awhile, as if someone was following me, but I couldn’t see anyone. Then, something was in the corner of my vision. I swerved to avoid whatever it was... I must have been speeding pretty badly and not realized it, because I promptly lost control of the Switchback and that takes some doing with a Harley! Those things are beasts, even the mini version that I ride!

Things happened fast that that point. The bike shifted sideways, then I was pitched off it and on to the road. My shoulder and head hit the cement first. I remember that much, thank god for the helmet. I was going to end up road pizza, so I shifted, but Newton’s Law is a bitch. My momentum kept me moving over the cement, into the ditch at the side of the highway, then finally into some long grass. I know I lay there for awhile, as my body slowly knit itself back together. No one stopped. Not that I could tell. I was on a pretty quiet stretch of road and at a quiet time. I think... I think I lucked out and no-one saw me. God. I hope so.

Eventually I healed up all the way, located my bike, which was still ride-able, but banged up all to hell. Me? Well, I'm certain that I looked real fucking great as well. Mom confirmed that assessment when she got a look at me and my bike. Corax may heal, but it doesn't do a damn fucking thing for all the blood that spews out of you in the meantime. Mom went into full, well, mom-mode. God, you'd think that I was ten again. We loaded my bike into the bed of dad's truck and headed to the house. Original plan had been to talk things over, before going home, but I was a mess and mom didn't want to attract undue attention.

Back at the house, mom gave me a bit of a break and let me clean up before we got down to business. My old room belongs to Beth now. It's weird, seeing all the things I used to have as a kid, out in the open again. Where the hell did mom store all that stuff? Dealing with Beth is still… Difficult. And the way she looked at me? It was weird. Like she was seeing something that everyone else was missing. She kinda creeped me out. Still, she cracked a smile. It was a small one, but it’s the first smile I’ve ever seen out of her.

Once I was presentable again, I gathered up my notes and things, then mom drove me out to a secluded spot. After a quick stop through a drive-thru for burgers, of course, because were hungry. We talked. We talked about the human scientists after X (showed her the dart), and the Clones that were likely the work of the Technocracy and what exactly that meant. Finally, we started talking about Little-Silvertip-Mauls-the-Horned-Serpent. The speed at which she’d picked up knowledge about mages, her vague answer about ancestors and ‘sources’, then the nastiness I came across in her head. We speculated as to why Silvertip ended up with with a Nephrandic ritual in her head. Maybe she tried to summon an ancestor Spirit and ended up with one that she wasn't expecting. Maybe she tried to summon up the ghost of a dead mage. Maybe she has something that makes summoning ancestor spirits easier than it normally is and it backfired. After a bit, I started going into details about what I'd seen, but mom put a stop to that right quick. She pointed out my nightmares, the way I kept looking over my shoulder, and my complaints of hearing things. She had a point. A very good one. Although, referring to the Nephrandi ritual as Brain Syphilis was kinda gross. I showed her the sheet that I’d showed Slug. She confirmed that it was, as far as she could tell, a grocery list for body parts. Greeeeeaaaaat. Other sheets were just gibberish, or a single word written over and over again. Fan-fucking-tastic.

We burnt the notes with Helios’ fire. Mom cleansed the site and me, just to be on the safe side. We went back home. I showered again. Felt dirty. Eventually. We settled down to dinner. Dad always was a great cook.

Fuck. Why the hell does Beth keep looking at me like that?



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