http://x_cable.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
x-cable.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
xp_logs2009-06-22 10:42 am
x-cable.livejournal.com) wrote in xp_logs2009-06-22 10:42 am
Mnemovore: Nathan, Monday morning
Taygetos tries to exert leverage on someone whose mind is so scrambled he doesn't know where (or when) he is. It still has the expected result.
Again and again, he struggled to his feet, trying to reach the silver-skinned teleporter who had appeared with him, and always she winked out in a pinpoint of light before he'd had a chance to move more than a step or two in her direction.
The dream was, for certain, a bad one, leaving his sleeping mind in a tangle of confusion and a frustrated anxiety that bordered on panic. He just couldn't wrap his mind around why.
An electronic trill cut through the dreaming memory, dragging Nathan Dayspring back into a world of aches, the scents of manure and hay, and the faint, soggy grinding of two old milk cows chewing their cud with no care for the human wedged between the bales in the hay stall. The phone in his jacket rang again, vibrating lightly against his ribs.
Nathan stared blankly at the weathered wood of the wall in front of him, trying to process the sensation. Everything but the pain in his head seemed to be at an impossible remove. It took him a long, long moment to reach into his jacket and come up with the phone, and he stared at it for another moment before he could summon up the presence of mind to answer it.
"Yes." His voice was gravelly, as if he hadn't used it in a week.
"I should congratulate you on a most innovative maneuver, Dayspring." The voice was level...for the most part. There was a sharp frustration pressing at the edges. "You've managed to give us some reason to take an interest in your stubborn friend continuing to draw breath."
Nathan swallowed, trying to think. His friend. Someone... someone who'd been with him, when the attack had come. The silence dragged on as he chased the fragments of memory. Someone with him. His friend. Someone Mistra had taken, instead of him?
He thought he remembered. They'd been in the car, going from place to place - going to meet the others? Nathan closed his eyes, muscles along his jaw twitching. He remembered... relaxed conversation. Plans being made. Teasing about... something. It made sense, he thought disjointedly. Just the two of them. Things were always like that when it was just the two of them. I got you caught, GW. Caught instead of me...
"Listen carefully," the voice on the other end of the phone continued. "He is currently in the care of a very skilled telepath of our acquaintance, who is turning out his mind for any and all useful information on your current mission as we speak. Once we have that, he ceases to be of any use to us. We're willing to release him to the care of your mutual friends, even leave him reasonably intact, in exchange for your surrender."
Nathan pushed himself up to a sitting position, swallowing hard against the nausea the movement provoked. The pain in his head redoubled, red pushing in at the edges of his vision for a moment. It was hard to think. Current mission? Had they taken a job that intersected one of Mistra's? Fuck, he had hoped never to do that.
Mistra. Mistra and GW and a telepath turning his brain inside out. The nausea swept over him again, but with it came a particularly vivid stab of memory. Stitching each other up after another attack by a retrieval team, GW glaring at him, snarling Never, Nathan, do you hear me? Never on account of me. I'd rather they put a bullet in my head. Promise me!
"Go fuck yourself," he rasped, finally. "No deal. Going to tear that place down around your head." He'd done it before.
"I've no doubt that you will make the attempt. If I were you, however, I would not set my heart on there being much left to rescue." The line went dead.
Nathan swallowed again, concentrating on breathing as he examined the phone. It didn't seem right, he thought, new uneasiness taking shape sluggishly. He'd never carried a phone like this. He called up the list of contacts, and a jolt of hope went through him as he spotted Moira's number.
She could help. Moira always helped. He let the phone dial the number, bringing it back to his ear. But it rang and rang, not even going to voice, and he hung up, frustrated. Back to the contacts list... there. Dom. Call the others first. Get them to pick him up... wherever he was.
It rang and rang, and... "Good afternoon," an unfamiliar accented voice said brightly. "You've reached the offices of Elpis, how may I direct your call?"
Nathan hung up, breathing raggedly. The panic was creeping up on him again. Elpis, what the hell was Elpis? He eyed the unfamiliar phone more closely, the skin on the back of his neck prickling as he assessed it. It was expensive-looking. High-tech. He didn't carry phones like this, he used them and then disposed of them.
Maybe it wasn't his phone. Mistra had called him on it, hadn't they? They could be using it to communicate with him. To track him. Nathan flung it away into the hay and then tried to haul himself back to his feet using the side of the stall. The nausea won out, and he spent an indeterminate amount of time doubled over in the stall, retching. There was blood dripping onto the hay by the time he regained control over his stomach. The nosebleed had started again.
Didn't matter. He had to get out of here. He tried to get up again, and this time, made it, although the pain in his head was almost blinding.
Get somewhere safe, find a way to get in touch with the others. Then, find where they had GW and kill them all. There were images in his mind, of a low concrete building, mountains and forest. A tauntingly familiar setting.
It was enough for a start. If he could just figure out where he was now.
Again and again, he struggled to his feet, trying to reach the silver-skinned teleporter who had appeared with him, and always she winked out in a pinpoint of light before he'd had a chance to move more than a step or two in her direction.
The dream was, for certain, a bad one, leaving his sleeping mind in a tangle of confusion and a frustrated anxiety that bordered on panic. He just couldn't wrap his mind around why.
An electronic trill cut through the dreaming memory, dragging Nathan Dayspring back into a world of aches, the scents of manure and hay, and the faint, soggy grinding of two old milk cows chewing their cud with no care for the human wedged between the bales in the hay stall. The phone in his jacket rang again, vibrating lightly against his ribs.
Nathan stared blankly at the weathered wood of the wall in front of him, trying to process the sensation. Everything but the pain in his head seemed to be at an impossible remove. It took him a long, long moment to reach into his jacket and come up with the phone, and he stared at it for another moment before he could summon up the presence of mind to answer it.
"Yes." His voice was gravelly, as if he hadn't used it in a week.
"I should congratulate you on a most innovative maneuver, Dayspring." The voice was level...for the most part. There was a sharp frustration pressing at the edges. "You've managed to give us some reason to take an interest in your stubborn friend continuing to draw breath."
Nathan swallowed, trying to think. His friend. Someone... someone who'd been with him, when the attack had come. The silence dragged on as he chased the fragments of memory. Someone with him. His friend. Someone Mistra had taken, instead of him?
He thought he remembered. They'd been in the car, going from place to place - going to meet the others? Nathan closed his eyes, muscles along his jaw twitching. He remembered... relaxed conversation. Plans being made. Teasing about... something. It made sense, he thought disjointedly. Just the two of them. Things were always like that when it was just the two of them. I got you caught, GW. Caught instead of me...
"Listen carefully," the voice on the other end of the phone continued. "He is currently in the care of a very skilled telepath of our acquaintance, who is turning out his mind for any and all useful information on your current mission as we speak. Once we have that, he ceases to be of any use to us. We're willing to release him to the care of your mutual friends, even leave him reasonably intact, in exchange for your surrender."
Nathan pushed himself up to a sitting position, swallowing hard against the nausea the movement provoked. The pain in his head redoubled, red pushing in at the edges of his vision for a moment. It was hard to think. Current mission? Had they taken a job that intersected one of Mistra's? Fuck, he had hoped never to do that.
Mistra. Mistra and GW and a telepath turning his brain inside out. The nausea swept over him again, but with it came a particularly vivid stab of memory. Stitching each other up after another attack by a retrieval team, GW glaring at him, snarling Never, Nathan, do you hear me? Never on account of me. I'd rather they put a bullet in my head. Promise me!
"Go fuck yourself," he rasped, finally. "No deal. Going to tear that place down around your head." He'd done it before.
"I've no doubt that you will make the attempt. If I were you, however, I would not set my heart on there being much left to rescue." The line went dead.
Nathan swallowed again, concentrating on breathing as he examined the phone. It didn't seem right, he thought, new uneasiness taking shape sluggishly. He'd never carried a phone like this. He called up the list of contacts, and a jolt of hope went through him as he spotted Moira's number.
She could help. Moira always helped. He let the phone dial the number, bringing it back to his ear. But it rang and rang, not even going to voice, and he hung up, frustrated. Back to the contacts list... there. Dom. Call the others first. Get them to pick him up... wherever he was.
It rang and rang, and... "Good afternoon," an unfamiliar accented voice said brightly. "You've reached the offices of Elpis, how may I direct your call?"
Nathan hung up, breathing raggedly. The panic was creeping up on him again. Elpis, what the hell was Elpis? He eyed the unfamiliar phone more closely, the skin on the back of his neck prickling as he assessed it. It was expensive-looking. High-tech. He didn't carry phones like this, he used them and then disposed of them.
Maybe it wasn't his phone. Mistra had called him on it, hadn't they? They could be using it to communicate with him. To track him. Nathan flung it away into the hay and then tried to haul himself back to his feet using the side of the stall. The nausea won out, and he spent an indeterminate amount of time doubled over in the stall, retching. There was blood dripping onto the hay by the time he regained control over his stomach. The nosebleed had started again.
Didn't matter. He had to get out of here. He tried to get up again, and this time, made it, although the pain in his head was almost blinding.
Get somewhere safe, find a way to get in touch with the others. Then, find where they had GW and kill them all. There were images in his mind, of a low concrete building, mountains and forest. A tauntingly familiar setting.
It was enough for a start. If he could just figure out where he was now.