By Angela
Learn about the Group's Babylon 5 roleplaying campaigns on The Prometheus Project page.
Angela: When you sent this file to me, it was garbled. I did my best to reconstruct it, but any information you included about font sizes, styles, or colors was lost. There are several parts where words or possibly sentences were lost. Those parts are marked by red italic type in the passage below. Please tell me what corrections need to be made. -Julia
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Fog swirled in around Cat, enfolding her in its masking cloak of shadows. London was being as reliable as ever. The mist and smog was as thick as in any old tale. She coughed softly into her hand. It brought a grim grin to her lips as she made her way through the streets, coat pulled close about her. Through the darkness, she knew he was here. She could sense him like an extension of herself. They had been trained for that. Trained to know each other, Too bad all of their training had been wasted in one moment, in one fight. There were things that she regretted about then, she regretted words left unsaid, words said that she would rather not have. But that was the past, and now they could no more stand each other's presence on the same planet, let alone in the same room. They had not spoken civilly since that night, and it had been months since she had spoken to him at all, yelling or not. In some ways she missed him. There was energy between them, there was symmetry in their graceful movements as they worked together. But not anymore. She suddenly felt like she needed a drink. She had been angry to find that he too had taken this job. Same man had given it to him too. They were to make certain that the other worked as they were supposed to, and clean up after each other. Didn't their employer know that they couldn't be in the same room together, for chance of someone having the need to come and clean their blood off of the walls? Damn! She gazed up at the building in front of her. It was a small, squat stone apartment building, old and with the charm of old London. Trash was piling up around the sides of the building, however, and graffiti covered most of the south wall. Inside lived only one person, a doctor who was expected to return soon from the laboratory. She scanned the building silently, taking note of entrances and exits, weak spots, and other small sundries that would assist her in getting at her target inside. She was to wait for him in the apartment while Wraith was to shepherd him home, guns blazing. Once inside she would take him out. However the good doctor would be on his own ground when that happened, therefore, if there was no way for her to take him out, it would be Wraith's business to terminate the target. Wraith. For some reason, her mind could not leave the past alone and wrenched her away from the matters at hand as she continued to walk unhindered through the London streets, away from the home of her intended target. In a way, she felt betrayed. She had loved Wraith, and it was all thrown back in her face time and again. But he had loved her too. And then she had had to be right. And they had fought. It seemed that in no time he was trading in his near superhuman senses for those manufactured by a technician. There was a certain curiosity factor when it came to his hardware and wiring. She wondered: underneath all of the black, his armor and trench coat and sunglasses, was he still as stunning a specimen as he had once been? Was he still... capable? In some way, she wished for what could have been. She laughed softly to herself, an ominous sound, and continued through the darkness. Perhaps she would stop at the nearest pub and tip down some of her rebellious thoughts. Wraith settled into the plush chair in his suite and contemplated his last few nights on shores of old Morocco. He had met an exotic dancer with quite a flair! and a good degree of flexibility! when it came to the forbidden arts. He smiled an emotionless smile. It had been fun, she was the contact through which he had gotten this job and he rewarded her handsomely. He had several pictures of the two of them on the table in front of him. She, however, was no Cat, and it was only after they'd had their fun that she'd told him the employer's intention that he work with Cat. She was the unfortunate bearer of bad news. He slipped the packet of photographs into the flames in the waste basket at his left. He had disabled the fire and smoke detectors in the room. Damn it. It always came back to her. It was one of the reasons he'd gotten chipped. He hadn't wanted to be the same man that she had known. He remembered a time when she was his sunshine and he her shadow. They had switched roles now and again, but they still had a magic between them. A balance. But wasn't that what they had been groomed for? To be the yin and yang of each other in their strange little dance. And no matter how he tried to divorce himself from that idea, so long ago planted in his brain by his father, she still returned to him. In his dreams, they were still together, still one. Even in the nightmares of that night, he still dreamed that things had happened differently, that they hadn't fought. That their world was not turned inexorably upside down. He stared into the flames. There were two things that had brought him to this place. One was his niece who had died. The other was his beloved Cat. He stood and put out the flames with a small extinguisher lying beside his chair. He moved over to the bed to study the pictures that he had taken of the site that they were to attack. He realized that in the photographs, he had caught Cat doing the same, her hair and coat being tugged by the wind. Many of the pictures were of her. Picking those up, he placed them in his left breast pocket. The others he studied for his line of attack. This was going to be a difficult assignment, knowing that she was there. But they would win. They always won. He only wished that it could have been her heart. |