Chapter1

In which an unlikely group of misfits gather together to follow their curiosity

The Everyman Tavern. You've probably had a drink in there yourself. The names change, the drinks change, and the prices go up, but it's always the same place. If you know what to look for you can find it in almost any time and place. It's the type of social waypoint that seems to exist outside of time; or rather, as a crossroads undisturbed by the ravages of the ages, varying in its outside appearance but always the same deep heart pulsing with the same blood of friendship, comradery, longing and loneliness found in the best pubs throughout the world. Asylum to wayfarers, drunks, intellectuals and students, abused husbands, overworked merchants, frat boys and their sorority girls, predator and prey...and on this particular darkened eve, a meatspace meeting point for a loose network of cybermages.

Ash is sitting in a bar, nursing a beer. He has better things to do than this, but you can't do everything, right? Got to spend some time to yourself now and then. The universe can get on quite well without his help. For a little while at least... Anyway, his friends will be here soon. Well, his peer group, and that's much like friends. He doesn't have long to wait- soon Nail sidles into the bar, nervously checking out the corners. He spies Ash and hurries over to him, looking over his shoulder in his usual paranoid way. He nods a greeting and orders a guinness, lighting a cigarette. "Where's Horser?" he asks, offering Ash a fag. "Wasn't he supposed to be here?"

Ash is medium height with a round sunny face. He's only 21 but often manages to gain the respect and friendship of older people, especially esoteric barflies. he has short spiked ginger hair and dressed in kinda skater clothes. He's wearing one of those shirts with flames along the bottom that were fashionable last year. Nail looks like he's in his late thirties, is over six feet with short dark hair and a military moustache. He is wearing scruffy old olive fatigues and has a haunted, nervous look. He gives the impression of a hard man shattered, and he is- an ex policeman discharged on psychiatric grounds.

Ash comments on Horser "I think he's in the loo. We had a pretty heavy night last night, maybe the curry is catching up on him". Ash starts singing... "and it burns burns burns.... the ring of fire.".

A nice looking girl wearing a natty pair of WWII flying goggles, glares from a nearby table then pretends not to have noticed. She is too busy being seen to be seen seeing someone, at least this early in the evening. She flicks her long black dreadlocks over her shoulder and practices looking bored, succeeding admirably. She's the type of girl that could've walked in off the streets or stepped out of the pages of Vogue, modelling the latest look in "Homeless Chic". Clean but dirty, like finding the madonna at a punk show offering her immaculate conception with fishnets and kicker boots.

She sips her drink and ponders the nature of club life amongst the drudgery of commerce and convenience. The faintest hint of the tab she ate a half hour ago begins to wiggle around her spine as she considers which party to move on to.

Soon Ash and Nail's attention is drawn to the sharp crack of the pinball machine hitting a replay score as Horser destroys the third saucer, liberating Germany from the Martian invaders. He catches the ball expertly on one flipper, lines up his shot for the multiball, and fires. The ball nicks just off the slot, bounces around a bit and then shoots determinedly down the left outlane, ending the game. "Dammit! You're a real bitch tonight, aren't you? Aah well." He rescues his half empty rum and coke from beneath the machine and walks away, leaving the replay blinking without him. "Sorry, got a bit distracted on the way back." He's perspiring slightly from the workout. "Heya Nail, how've you been?" Horser slides up to the bar, covering Nail's other flank opposite Ash. He glances to his cigarettes. "Bum one?"

"I'm low on fags, Ash has got loads" Nail replies. Ash takes out another cigarette lights it off the half smoked one in his mouth and hands it to Horser. "That's about 8 packs ya owe me now" He continues "So, Nail, what's this thing you've found which you were so excited about?"

Nail seems reluctant to talk about it, but explains after a glance around the bar. "I was contacted by someone who said they knew how to get hold of that Thing I was so excited about. She said she'll be phoning me tonight, so I wanted to get some backup from you guys before the call. When the others get here, let's adjourn somewhere more private. I hate talking about this shit in public." He takes a gulp of Guinness and lights another of Ash's fags, putting the stub of the old one into a tin in his pocket. This strange habit is politely ignored by his companions.

"You people wouldn't wait for a million dollars, sorry I'm late", Shem says as he sits next to Ash. "My sensei had me doing a void meditation and I lost track of time."

Horser chuckles. "Yea, that's why I like doing that shit to Tai Chi. The form sets an end point for the meditation so you don't end up lost in nirvana until you piss yourself. But ya know, I never went for that void shit much myself. Bliss is a trap, man," he jibes with a slight wink, sipping his drink. "Thats just what my sensei said when he woke me up with his walking stick", Shem rubs his head, and imitating an eastern accent badly says, "you haven't been paying attention! So whats this thing about Nail?"

"It's about death, Shem, it's always about death." Nail's obsession with ghosts and the dead is well known to his peer group, and he has been called spooky many times. He shrugs at Shem "I'll tell you all about it once we've got everyone. Sibyl said..." he checks himself, taking another gulp of Guinness, and looks pointedly around the bar at the many drinkers. One stands out.

In the far corner to the north is a dark figure sitting behind a low table, his hands on his lager but his eyes resting firmly on Nail. The ex-cop knows better than to push it but notes as much as he can about the voyeur, sizing him up and quickly characterizing his apparent attributes. Relaxed but alert. Comfortable but sitting up straight. The manner of a professional, but not necessarily a businessman. And somethng darker but not without fire.

From his booth against a far wall, Koyne notices that the small group of peers has begun to assemble. Signalling to Kos, seated across from him, he marks his page and ambles over to belly up at the bar, exchanging quiet, meaningful nods with one and all. He soberly signals for a beer.

Kos stands up from the booth he was sharing with Koyne, who was the one person from this group that he had already met in person. The rest of the group were known to him only as text on an Internet discussion board. Kos grabs his Canadian Club whiskey and sprite, dropping his Handspring Visor into his inside coatpocket and slings his military surplus courier bag over his shoulder. He starts to walk towards the rather rag-tag group of intellectuals and occultists but he slows down for a moment to catch a glimpse of the flying-goggled cutie as he passes her table. She pretends not to notice, but watches him as he passes out of the corner of her goggles.

"Who's your friend, Koyne?" Nail asks in a typically paranoid sotto voce. Koyne nods. "This is the fella I was telling you about," he continues, patting Kos's shoulder, who sits down beside him.

"Hey, name's Kos, Fenris online," he says, and to the bartender, "A guinness, thanks." And then he downs the last of his whiskey and Sprite. "Ah, Fenris! Nice to meet you in the flesh at last." Nail shakes his hand firmly.

An androgynous figure of about average height sticks a head into the bar, looking around a bit until tai eyes adjust to the smoke and shade. Entitything (Carrick Meander) comes inside at last and orders a g&t, flashing i.d., irritated at always getting carded.

"Hey, guys, I heard there was something going on. You want to let me in on it?" Carrick inquires, heading for the table where the friends are meeting. Carrick hasn't known them long, but curiosity won't let ta pass up this lead.

Nail moves his chair back a little to accomodate Carrick, making the group of eight form a rough circle at the bar. Glancing from his left to his right he sees a motley collection of freaks, and the policeman in him shakes his head at the person he has become.

Ash nods to the barman who whisks away his empty glass and replaces it with a fresh pint. A movement in the periphery catches his attention and his glance falls upon the pretty dreadlocked girl as she rises from her table, the coat of her bomber jacket falling open enough to reveal the soft curves of her chest and the tattoo resting above her left breast: a serpent eating it's own tail. Ash catches her eye and this time the connection lingers, just for a moment, but long enough to feel a spark of electricity pass between them, and something...familiar? A faint memory? But more like a long forgotten dream that just resurfaced to show a single frame of it's movie, obscure and enigmatic yet so very close and personal.

She downs the last of her drink and turns, leaving the pub behind in the dust of her sacred passage.

"Thats what I just asked Nail...What's up?", Shem says as he looks around apprehensivly, playing with his glass of water, "I have a weird feeling about tonight."

"So you should, it's going to be wyrd." Nail says, assessing the group. "Before we move somewhere more private, let's have proper introductions, for those of us who aren't familiar with faces" he nodds to Fenris/Kos?.

Nail is a big man with cropped dark hair and moustache, wearing olive army surplus combat trousers, boots and a many-pocketed coat in the same drab colour. He carries a grubby satchel and you can see the top of a blackwork tattoo on his neck (which presumably extends down his chest). He has a baritone voice, and after clearing his throat he says; "I'm Nail, and I need some help tonight from you lot if you're willing to give it. I've been looking for an antique piece of jewellery for some time, and finally got a lead when a stranger called me out of the blue..." he waves his blue mobile phone at the gang "...saying they knew where to get it, and that the owner is interested in selling. After we've introduced ourselves, I suggest we move to a more secure location so I can be more explicit. I live nearby but I don't think we'll fit all eight of us in my room, so suggestions welcome." He sits down, looking expectantly at Ash.

Ash nods and grins. "Yeah, I found a fuckin' good place, go there when we finish these?". He indicates the half finished drinks in front of most of the group.

"I'm Nick Koyne, an antiquarian and art dealer." Koyne, having come from a business meeting, is wearing a conservative-looking suit, but the tie is pulled loose and the collar open. His hair is white at the temples, though he's young, and he wears small steel-rimmed glasses.

"I'm Horser, for y'all I didn't meet already at the party the other night. I'm in on vacation from the States to meet some of you fine folks I've enjoyed conspiring in cyberspace with for so long. Ash has been kind enough to put me up for a bit while I see what trouble I can get into round here with you folks. Somehow, I doubt I'll be disappointed." Horser smiles and leans back, tipping his chair dangerously on its two rear legs.

"My name is Shem, I met most of you on cyberspace. It's good to see you all for the first time"; Shem rubs his newly shaven head, "I've been here the past two years but I haven't had the chance to meet many people."

Behind them, a young man, previously quite inconspicuous, now less so, coughs rather noticeably.

Carrick looks around, then shrugs when no one else comes forward. Tai voice is a soft tenor, or maybe a low alto. "I'm Carrick. I'm from the States too, and I'm looking around at grad programs here. My specialty is ancient Egyptian and Middle Eastern history, particularly as concerns ideas about what we would call the occult. I'm here to learn, and not just about history-- so if I need 'larnin' don't pull any punches." Then, as if by afterthought, "Just in case I never mentioned this to some of you online-- I'm always being asked if I'm a man or a woman. The answer is sometimes." Te grins self consciously and steps back to let someone else speak.

The cough returns, this time almost obscenely intrusive, and the guilty party swivels round on his seat next to them. "Jim Blackthorne. It's a pleasure..."

Kos is startled out of his reverie when the cougher speaks and he turns to Jim and extends his hand. Kos hesitates for a moment wipes his hand on the pocket of his off-khaki cargo pants and shakes Jim Blackthorne's hand. "Nice to meet you, who are you on the board? Anyways, I'm from Vancouver, Canada. I'm off Uni for the summer so I was going to go to New York where Koyne had promised to show me the Crowley apartment. Then he told me he was going to cancel 'cause he had to be in London so what the hell. I've been crashing at my cousin's flat mainly." Realizing that he had babbled perhaps a bit much Kos takes up his beer and tries to lower the level of the ocean some.

"I don't suppose my username would ring any bells", Jim replied. "I go by the name Potocki but I've mainly been lurking the last couple of months. I heard some of the board were meeting up, and my curiosity got the better of me. No need for introductions. My apologies, but I've already overheard most of your conversation. Not meaning to be rude of course, but its difficult not to when you're right next door. The dangers of socialising, eh?"

Ash says "shall we get goin' then?" and downs the last third of his pint. A moment later he burps and says, on reflex, "diva!" for some reason.

"Are you sure you know what you're getting in to?" the stranger asks him.

But the pressure of the clerks is too strong and he's pushed past, out into the dark night of London, his blood suddenly much colder, though not because of the weather. Shaken, he follows the crew, trying to comprehend what had just happened, and whether the stranger was actually someone he knew, or perhaps someone he would meet again.

Ash leads the group through the night time streets, lit by flickering streetlights, buzzing neon, and passing carlights. The buzz of the night is apparent to all of them, but not just in the typical manner common to most humans who venture out past evening. Tonight there is a tangible thickness that surrounds and sticks to the skin like ink mixed with the light of a thousand televisions; though it isn' heavy despite the density, rather cut through by the bouyancy of their excitement and the impending knowledge of the unknown.

Ash navigates seemingly by intuition as the pattern of their passage appears to be lost on all but himself. He veers and careens, often taking odd cuts down blackened alleys even the locals hardly ever notice, or moving aside boards to reveal a hole in a fence or an unseen doorway. Down one alley, across a street, through a passage behind a dumpster into the next alley. Most, if not all of them, are at turns excited and frightened, wondering what foul demon might be waiting down the next alleyway, found by coincidence or synchronicity or providence but pissed off and hungry regardless.

In spite of himself, Ash does a good job of resisting the everpresent pull of his skate board and instead trots along at a somewhat reasonable pace, occasionally glancing back to ensure that the others are still with him.

The last alley is between two large red brick buildings, stained by the London air. The walls are covered, to a height of about seven feet, with grafitti art and hundreds of Tags. Ash stops at a fire escape door and pulls it open. Before entering the building Kos uses an attachment on his pda to take a photograph of the Tags that decorate the walls. Glancing up the side of the edifice he notes the building's moniker: "Adrenochrome Corporation" in large, faded red letters. Then he slips in behind the rest. Inside is a cavernous concrete stairwell. It's covered with dust, but the dust shows signs someone's been here before. Two flights of stairs higher is a door to a shabby looking lift (elevator), with an ancient "Out of Order" sign stuck to it. Ash pushes the button and the doors open.

"Er, there's only room enough for 4 in the lift at once, so some of ya'll have to wait for the next ride. The doors only open here, the basement and floor twenty-three. Ya want twenty three, got it?"

In several stages the party is ferried by the noisy lift up to floor 23. Nail goes with Ash in the first load, joined by Horser and Shem. Koyne, Carrick, Jim and Kos hang back and wait for the second ride, hoping that the lift is truly capable of ascending to such a height but fearing the possibility that, having almost reached the top, it could come horribly crashing down.

Now turn to Chapter2 and [writing services].