Chapter #46New Faces ... And New Mysteries by: Seuzz   You echo Gordon: "You take her."
Prescott shrugs again, and turns back to Joe. "Go out to Blackwell's," he repeats. "Figure out this new spell the golems uncovered. Stars help us if they've gotten nastier shit in the meantime."
"What about these others? Blackwell's already got copies--"
"I know, but keep them hidden from him. Under no circumstances is he to know about them."
"Why?" Joe asks impatiently. "If he's got his own copies--"
"Yeah, he has copies of these five," Prescott says. "And the golems made this copy," he sighs impatiently as Joe settles back with narrowed eyes, "But Prescott made these, and he used them to make up some new masks and shit. You understand what I'm saying?"
Joe stares , and then blinks hard. "You saying they're live?"
"Exactly. That's how come Blackwell isn't to get his hands on them."
"Reilly told us the book is supposed to be proofed against monkey business."
"I know what he told us--"
"Blackwell's copies aren't--"
"I know, Joe."
"But if--"
"Shut. Up. I know."
Joe's eyes go over to you. They are wide, but there's a flintiness in them.
"Okay, everyone get changed," Prescott says.
So everyone starts pulling off clothes. You have to clench your jaw at the sight of someone who looks like you standing next to the partially undressed Chelsea Cooper, who he will soon be impersonating. You wonder what's going through his mind. You wonder if your thoughts are going through his mind, and what he's thinking as he entertains them.
What are you thinking? That it would be a lot of fun to be inside Chelsea Cooper, to have her boobs and butt and legs and all the other bits to play with? You would have thought that only yesterday, but it's all very serious now. Is Frank feeling excited?
It's not a profitable speculation. You lay back and obliterate your consciousness by tearing at your face.
* * * * *
You wake to find Steve Patterson looking down at you. "Hey Stevie," you snicker, and--
It's like a wave hitting you, and you plunge far beneath before popping back up again with a gasp and the knowledge of who and where you are.
You've a short little fireplug of a body, on strong legs and with strong arms. Your eye travels down your physique appreciatively, until it hits--
Shit. All those rumors about Jason Lynch's tiny cock would have to turn out to be true.
You grimace and put out a hand so Patterson can help you up, but he just leans back, leaving you to scramble up. "It's just one new team after another, ain't it?" you snicker again.
"It doesn't take you long to get in character, does it?" he mutters.
"Huh? Oh, gimme a minute." You jog the side of your head with the heel of your hand. "Sometimes I gotta think hard a'fore I remember who I really am." You clap your triceps appreciatively.
"Stop feeling yourself up. Remember who you are and we're supposed to be doing."
"What period is it?"
"Fifth. We got Spanish next."
"Oh, right. Como es el cono?" you laugh. Patterson whaps you on the head. "Keep those fucking flippers to yourself, Stevie," you growl.
"Are you trying to be an asshole?"
"Alright, I get it. I'm sorry." You snatch up Lynch's baby-blue tidy whities and pull them on, snapping the elastic hard. "But I figured it'd be easier for you, if, you know, I was bein' in character."
He gets a pained look. "If you can't see what's in front of your fucking face, you little--" His jaw works. "Look at where I am, and why I'm here, and--" He folds his arms, tucking his hands under his pits. "And Chelsea over there--"
You look around, goggling, and he whaps you on the head again. "You're the one who--"
"I know," he says. "Doesn't mean I like it."
"Are you guys ready over there?" a querulous female voice calls from the other side of some crates, where golden hair is bobbing up and down. A blue dress flashes over it, and then she's pulling her hair free.
Steve slaps you again. "Finish getting ready."
* * * * *
A few minutes later, and it's just like normal up in the loft. There's you, Jason Lynch, looking furtively around and trying not to catch the eye of Steve Patterson, who is glaring coldly at Chelsea Cooper, who has her arms crossed over her chest. Only Gordon is missing in body--though of course he is here in fact, as Steve--which leaves three people who don't much like each other, and hang out only because Gordon keeps them tied together.
You need to get to class, but there's things to talk about first. Chelsea is frowning fiercely and her eyes dart about distractedly. Obviously, Frank is trying to figure out what she knows, about the golems' plans and about the Libra. But you-- "I don't know anything, guys," you say when the silence has become unbearable. "All I know is Stevie here pulled me up to the loft this morning--"
"We know all that," Patterson snaps. "We were there, remember?"
"And then you guys had me hang loose after Chelsea got ahold of Gordon on the phone."
"Yeah, you're a dumb son of a bitch."
"Don't let these personalities get to you," Chelsea says. "We're not here to role play."
"If we're gonna pass as--"
"Do it in public, not in private." She suddenly inhales sharply and takes out her phone. "Check your emails, guys."
"Fuck," you chortle. "You tell us not to get in character, and suddenly you're all into your phone messages?"
Maybe Frank isn't trying to play Chelsea, but it's her regular look of pure murder she gives you. "This is business. You dipshits--" She catches herself. "You should have a message with link to a new email account and password." She taps her own phone with a long fingernail.
So you check yours. "Huh," you say. "Newjasonlynch71213."
"I got one too," Steve says as he stares at his own phone. "Newstevepatterson71213. What do the numbers mean?"
"I don't know," Chelsea says. "I got the same. But look at who it's from. Newgordonblack71213. I-- Chelsea found it early this morning, right after she got caught. Because she checks her messages--"
"How did they get her?" Patterson asks with an edge in his voice.
"Your dad, Gordon," she says quietly. "He pulled her over on the way to school, took her back into his cruiser to 'talk' about you. He put a mask on her, and the next thing she was sitting up in the back seat with a whole new outlook on life. Very curious."
"What is?" you ask.
She looks up at Patterson. "She knew exactly how to execute the transformation spell," she says. "Chelsea got Steve up here, and got a mask on him, and laid him on the Libra, and did the spell, as if she'd done it a dozen times before. Same as she and the new Steve did with Jason." Her eyes flick over to you.
Patterson nods thoughtfully. "There was also that other mask."
"Look, I know you guys like keeping me in the dark and dumping shit all over me," you say. "But can you stop being so mysterious?"
"After Chelsea got Steve transformed, she put a mask on him," Chelsea says. "It turned him into Gordon Black. But he didn't say anything, and she didn't say anything either. They just looked at each other while she sealed up Steve's mask. Something else Chelsea suddenly knew how to do. Then she took Gordon's mask off the golem and put Steve's onto it."
"And you don't know what that was about?" you ask.
"No more than you do," Patterson says. "Chelsea and Steve did the same thing to Jason when they got him up here."
"But I don't remember anything about-- Is this that other mask of Gordon's?" You're feeling utterly bewildered.
"It must be," says Chelsea. "I bet Gordon's dad did the same thing to Chelsea." She looks back at the corner where the golems are now hidden. "This is bad. It looks to me like they're using that other mask as a kind of thumb drive, transferring information and instructions directly into the new golems without going through the masks." She looks back down at her phone. "Same as they're using this pseudonymous email account to send orders. They're being very careful about covering their tracks."
"Something about this doesn't make any sense," Steve mutters, and paces on his long shanks.
"We just need to find out who's running the 'newgordon' account," Chelsea says. "Find that person, and we'll find the Libra, I bet." She looks at you. "We need to check out--" Her jaw works. "Your friends. I've already forgotten--"
"Talk about gettin' into character," you chortle sourly. "Caleb Johansson and Keith Tilley." She rolls her eyes. "I can bring 'em up here. We use this place for all kinds of entertainin', don't we, Stevie?"
"You do, 'cos you can't get laid." He continues to look distracted.
"Or I guess I can just talk to 'em," you muse. "If they got the book, they'll know what I'm talkin' about. If they don't know, that means they're okay."
"You can't be sure of that," Chelsea says. "Just check them for masks. And you two stick close together. Don't change out for practice after school," she tells Patterson. "I don't want you alone with anyone in the locker room. Prescott and I will watch practice together."
"Never miss it," you chortle.
"I know you don't," she snorts.
You glance up Steve. You bet you could handle Caleb and Keith by yourself, but it might be easier if he were to help drag them up to the fuck room.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
| Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author