The Magnificent Seven: Echoes and Portents
Dec. 1st, 2008 01:17 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsWhile participating in the search for the Taygetos team, Zanne makes an alarming - if not entirely unexpected discovery.
The neighborhood was quiet in mid-afternoon; it was a tourist district, the police lieutenant had told her, and certainly there were some obvious differences from the more vital, populated areas of Wakanda's capital. Their target was a small, nondescript vacation house not much different than any of the others on the street. Rented by guests from the US whose identity the N'Jadaka police had not been able to verify through some discreet phone calls, which made it at least a possibility for the Taygetos team's safehouse.
A slim one, however, and the police team with Zanne was as well aware of that as she was. "This is like hoping to stumble across a particular blade of grass in the savannah," grumbled Lieutenant Awori, in accented but very good English as he examined the target house through a set of binoculars.
"Perhaps," Zanne replied, not at all convinced that even if they had the right house she'd be able to pull down useful impressions. While back home things seemed to be slowly settling on the astral plane, that didn't seem to be the case here in Wakanda. Instead of smoothing out and being written over with memories, it was even more snarled and twisted, absorbing only shards and spitting them back out seemingly at random. "But perhaps we're due for a bit of luck, Lieutenant. The only way to know for sure is to check."
Awori nodded and raised his radio, murmuring something into it in one of the Wakanda dialects. The response apparently pleased him, because he nodded, then turned back to Zanne. "It appears to be clear." The look he was giving her was tinged with curiosity. "Shall we go down?"
--
The interior of the house open and airy, larger than the outside had suggested. Zanne realized as she stepped inside that the entire first floor was a single room, cleverly partitioned by a built-in counter that separated the kitchen from the rest of the room. The cheery, light-filled space seemed at odds with the behavior of it's purported inhabitants. She'd expected something darker and much more sinister. That's what comes of watching too much film noir, she thought ruefully, moving towards a large, heavy table near the fireplace. At least this looked more what she'd imagined. Every society of villains needed a table to concoct their evil plans at.
"Wait a second, please," she asked as the police team started up the stairs to the second floor. "Let me just-" Closing her eyes, she carefully probed for some memory to pull down. A burst of static erupted around her, washing over her in a wave of red confusion. as she opened her eyes, she found herself surrounded by broken images, half-rendered and indecipherable. She let it play for several long moments, hoping something intelligible would emerge.
Awori watched the ghostly images carefully, while his men muttered among themselves, one even making what might have been a sign against evil. "That is a most useful trick," he said, peering at the images. "Can you see anything that's - look!" He pointed at the kitchen.
Zanne's head swung toward the kitchen and the images dissolved as her concentration broke. "What did you see? Was it the kids?" she asked with quiet excitement as she started across the room. She hadn't realized that she had been projecting so far.
"I'm not certain. There were definitely figures, three of them. One seemed rather tall..." Awori finally looked as her, as if he'd been reluctant to turn his attention away from the kitchen just in case the images reappeared. "Can you do that again? Just here, in this area?"
"I can try." She once again reached out to retrieve the images. They were easier to find this time, familiar now that she'd touched them. The projection began to play once more and a woman's voice sounded through the room, sharp and irate. Zanne's eyes snapped open and immediately focused on the speaker. She knew that voice. "Oh, shit," she breathed as the woman turned to her. If Tara Trask was somehow mixed up in this, things were a lot worse than they'd anticipated.
Trask, in the image, visibly wrestled her anger under control and returning to looking calm and reflective as she chopped something -vegetables? - at the counter. She looked back over her shoulder at a larger, hazier shape that resolved into Ilyas Saidullayev.
"Not again." The voice was distant, as if it was coming from underwater. "Do you understand me? You will not do it again."
The third shape was golden-haired and slender, and Amber Hunt had apparently been worried by the conflict between her mentor and Saidullayev. Oddly, however, as Trask turned her attention back to the vegetables, the image of Amber walked over to Saidullayev, reaching out tentatively and laying a hand on his arm. Saidullayev bent towards her, murmuring something in her ear.
"You know them?" Awori asked, his voice hushed.
"I do." The image sputtered out abruptly, the end of the 'memory' having been reached. Zanne pulled it back down and began to replay it, trying to mentally capture everything she was being shown. "Trask. Saidullayev. I think the other woman is Hunt - I've only seen a picture." She pulled out her phone and bounced it in her hand. "All right. Upstairs to see if there's anything else, and then I've got to call this in. There's more going on here than a handful of brainwashed teenagers."
The neighborhood was quiet in mid-afternoon; it was a tourist district, the police lieutenant had told her, and certainly there were some obvious differences from the more vital, populated areas of Wakanda's capital. Their target was a small, nondescript vacation house not much different than any of the others on the street. Rented by guests from the US whose identity the N'Jadaka police had not been able to verify through some discreet phone calls, which made it at least a possibility for the Taygetos team's safehouse.
A slim one, however, and the police team with Zanne was as well aware of that as she was. "This is like hoping to stumble across a particular blade of grass in the savannah," grumbled Lieutenant Awori, in accented but very good English as he examined the target house through a set of binoculars.
"Perhaps," Zanne replied, not at all convinced that even if they had the right house she'd be able to pull down useful impressions. While back home things seemed to be slowly settling on the astral plane, that didn't seem to be the case here in Wakanda. Instead of smoothing out and being written over with memories, it was even more snarled and twisted, absorbing only shards and spitting them back out seemingly at random. "But perhaps we're due for a bit of luck, Lieutenant. The only way to know for sure is to check."
Awori nodded and raised his radio, murmuring something into it in one of the Wakanda dialects. The response apparently pleased him, because he nodded, then turned back to Zanne. "It appears to be clear." The look he was giving her was tinged with curiosity. "Shall we go down?"
--
The interior of the house open and airy, larger than the outside had suggested. Zanne realized as she stepped inside that the entire first floor was a single room, cleverly partitioned by a built-in counter that separated the kitchen from the rest of the room. The cheery, light-filled space seemed at odds with the behavior of it's purported inhabitants. She'd expected something darker and much more sinister. That's what comes of watching too much film noir, she thought ruefully, moving towards a large, heavy table near the fireplace. At least this looked more what she'd imagined. Every society of villains needed a table to concoct their evil plans at.
"Wait a second, please," she asked as the police team started up the stairs to the second floor. "Let me just-" Closing her eyes, she carefully probed for some memory to pull down. A burst of static erupted around her, washing over her in a wave of red confusion. as she opened her eyes, she found herself surrounded by broken images, half-rendered and indecipherable. She let it play for several long moments, hoping something intelligible would emerge.
Awori watched the ghostly images carefully, while his men muttered among themselves, one even making what might have been a sign against evil. "That is a most useful trick," he said, peering at the images. "Can you see anything that's - look!" He pointed at the kitchen.
Zanne's head swung toward the kitchen and the images dissolved as her concentration broke. "What did you see? Was it the kids?" she asked with quiet excitement as she started across the room. She hadn't realized that she had been projecting so far.
"I'm not certain. There were definitely figures, three of them. One seemed rather tall..." Awori finally looked as her, as if he'd been reluctant to turn his attention away from the kitchen just in case the images reappeared. "Can you do that again? Just here, in this area?"
"I can try." She once again reached out to retrieve the images. They were easier to find this time, familiar now that she'd touched them. The projection began to play once more and a woman's voice sounded through the room, sharp and irate. Zanne's eyes snapped open and immediately focused on the speaker. She knew that voice. "Oh, shit," she breathed as the woman turned to her. If Tara Trask was somehow mixed up in this, things were a lot worse than they'd anticipated.
Trask, in the image, visibly wrestled her anger under control and returning to looking calm and reflective as she chopped something -vegetables? - at the counter. She looked back over her shoulder at a larger, hazier shape that resolved into Ilyas Saidullayev.
"Not again." The voice was distant, as if it was coming from underwater. "Do you understand me? You will not do it again."
The third shape was golden-haired and slender, and Amber Hunt had apparently been worried by the conflict between her mentor and Saidullayev. Oddly, however, as Trask turned her attention back to the vegetables, the image of Amber walked over to Saidullayev, reaching out tentatively and laying a hand on his arm. Saidullayev bent towards her, murmuring something in her ear.
"You know them?" Awori asked, his voice hushed.
"I do." The image sputtered out abruptly, the end of the 'memory' having been reached. Zanne pulled it back down and began to replay it, trying to mentally capture everything she was being shown. "Trask. Saidullayev. I think the other woman is Hunt - I've only seen a picture." She pulled out her phone and bounced it in her hand. "All right. Upstairs to see if there's anything else, and then I've got to call this in. There's more going on here than a handful of brainwashed teenagers."
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