Encounterlogs
Serenas Odd Encounter Sr Kaven 250409
In a tranquil therapist's office turned office space, Serena's late-night work is interrupted by a chilling discovery—a crumpled envelope in her windowsill containing photographs of her at various stages of her life, alongside cryptic annotations in red ink hinting at her being a target for a mysterious figure. The unsettling find is compounded by signs of an intruder's recent presence in her sanctuary. As she attempts to digest this bizarre and alarming situation, the sound of a car pulling into the driveway signals the arrival of the very threat that had cast a shadow over her serene workspace. A man claiming a medical emergency begs for her expertise to assist his suddenly ill daughter, prompting Serena to cautiously engage given her professional duty, unaware of the man's true intentions tied to a malevolent group known as The Sapphire Martyrs.
The plot twists when Serena, trying to fulfill her medical oath, is kidnapped by the man under the guise of needing urgent help for his daughter. Her attempted rescue call to a friend, Novel, turns into a dire capture scene in her own driveway. As Serena slips into unconsciousness due to the kidnapper's use of a chloroform cloth, Novel, having been alerted to the situation, arrives in his van. He confronts and combats the kidnapper with a mixture of nonchalance and lethal skill, eventually saving Serena from the grasp of her abductor. The kidnapper, driven by a misguided prophecy that Serena's death would avert an apocalypse, meets a grim fate—left injured and ignored, he ultimately becomes prey to a bear, fulfilling a darkly ironic turn of fortunes. Serena, though disoriented, is safely extracted from the scenario by Novel, their escape marked by a morose combination of victory and the macabre aftermath of the evening's events.
(Serena's odd encounter(SRKaven):SRKaven)
[Fri Apr 4 2025]
In a Cozy Office filled with plants
The therapist's office is a warm, inviting space that feels more like a cozy
living room than a clinical workspace. A plush leather lounge chair chaise
with a matching cushioned ottoman sits near a large window, bathed in soft
natural light, offering clients a place to recline and unwind. Nearby, a
well-worn but comfortable armchair serves as the therapist's seat, positioned
thoughtfully to encourage open conversation. A wooden coffee table sits
between them, holding a small tray with a ceramic teapot, a few books, and a
gently flickering candle. Against one wall, a sturdy wooden desk in the
corner is neatly arranged with notes, a laptop, and a few personal trinkets.
Lush green plants spill over bookshelves filled with psychology texts
and novels, their presence adding a sense of life and tranquility to the
space. Potted plants and succulents are scattered throughout the room to lend
a calming aura to the room as if one has stumbled into a cozy oasis amidst the
insanity of whatever may be going on in the wider world outside.
It is night, about 55F(12C) degrees, and there are a few wispy white clouds in the sky. There is a waxing crescent moon.
(Your target becomes the obsession of a member of The Sapphire Martyrs who believes that your target's death will bring them closer to their goal. The martyr stalks your target, leaving cryptic messages and symbols related to their cause. They believe that by killing your target, they will not only move a step closer to their ultimate goal but also save your target from the impending apocalypse. The target must survive long enough for their allies to decipher the messages, track down the martyr, and stop them before it's too late.)
It's late, very late, but Serena remains up at her desk for reasons that are her own. There's a lot to think on from the past few days, and a lot to distract her from it all. But as the moon hits a certain angle, the silver rays strike something on the floor just out of view. A pale white envelope that seems to have gotten carelessly stuck in the windowsill, crumpled by compaction between frame and window.
Perhaps this draws her attention enough to be on alert, perhaps she might notice that the door to her bedroom is open, that a few items around the room have been disturbed, or that the file cabinet isn't QUITE closed.
Perhaps a few of these things have been missed, but nonetheless there's enough evidence sloppily left, that even a mind ensconced in the weariness of the late hour would eventually realize; someone has been here. And they were looking about quite thoroughly.
The lights flicker, and the sound of a vehicle departing. Someone's left with her ride; perhaps her roomate. She's alone in the house now.
What will She Do?
Serena rubs her eyes and sighs, shutting her laptop. Work, work, and more work. Even at this late hour, it seems. As she finally takes a moment to herself to relax, Serena's gaze moves towards the window where she admires at least the moonlight pouring into the room. But that glance too reveals taht envelope stuck in the windowsill.
"That's odd..." Serena murmurs, rising from the desk and taking the short steps towards the window. She opens the window to let the chill night air through while reaching for the envelope, to scope it's contents.
The envelope, crumpled and battered, bares a coffee stain. I'ts already been opened. This wasn't for her, this was something for someone else that got caught carelessly here.
Within the envelope she finds old style photographs, glossy. They're of her. Some are from a year or two ago, one even from when she finished her PhD. But many are far older; When she was a little girl, playing on the swings. One of her with her brother, looking pale and uncomfortable.
Upon the photos, spread chronologically are the words "Hair of spun platinum, shadowed by glory; This has to be her" in red ink. "They can't see it. They have that pretender in their sites, but this is her. She's dissapeared though; why can't I find her?"
As she looks through the photos the wind whistles through the trees, and the faint sound of a car approaching in the distance. There are no headlights on though, yet the sound of some one pulling into the driveway can be heard from the open window, the moonlight barely illuminating the sheen off of an old, black-painted sedan.
Serena's brow furrows as she sorts through the photos. The oldest ones of her as a young girl with her brother cause Serena to turn paler, almost as pale as the little girl in the pictures. She reads the writing on the photos aloud, at first.
"Hair of spun platinum, showered by glory; this has to be-"
Serena stops, and frowns as her eyes scan the red ink. "What the fuck?" But she can't stop to think about it too long, as she hears the sound of a car pulling up, and peeks out the window to see what can be seen. For whoever comes to visit at such a time?
There's a soft knocking at the door. There's no time to respond before the words carry through "Hello? Hello? I'm sorry to call so late. I need a doctor, quick." Despite the panicked tone, the words are hushed, as if disturbing any but the occupants is to be avoided.
Serena swiftly leaves her office and moves to the front door. She's a doctor, after all, and for all intents and purposes, it seems that someone -is- in need. She opens the front door, peerin g out into the dark night. "I am a doctor, whatever seems to be the matter?" she asks, scanning to take in the situation.
What she sees is a nervous looking man with curly red hair in his mid thirties and a brown overcoat. He's wearing gloves, and nervously glancing over his shoulder. Upon opening the door his gaze fixates upon you intently; your face, your hair, everything is taken in. For a moment there's a look of relief "It's..." he stops himself from speaking further. Coughing "Ah, yes. I'm sorry to disturb you so late. They told me a doctor lives here. My daughter, she's... She's sick. Came down with it suddenly. I-I don't know what's wrong. One moment she was fine, then she said she was talking with a nice man and now, now she can barely breath."
His worried voice is betrayed by a particular attention to Serena's expression.
Serena looks around, "Where is she? How long has it been? Is she in any state to be moved to the Webster Clinic?" she asks, grabbing a go-bag from behind the front door. "Bring me to her?" she says, stepping out of the doorway, shutting it behind her.
He blinks, as if a bit shocked, but adapts a thankful expression quickly "You truly are a godsend, Serena." he blurts out, moving to clasp her hand gratefully. "She's, she's not far. We were camping at a campsite near here. I'm from out of town." he says, the faint glint of saphire seen now down the front of his trenchcoat. "Thank you so so much. We can take my car."
shakes his head quickly "I don't know if she can be moved, I don't know what's wrong with her! She's normally such a lively child, but all of a sudden she's sick as a wounded dove."
Serena frowns as the stranger fills her in. "I see. Well, let's be on our way then, let me just... let someone know where I'm going. I'm Dr. Sante by the way. Dr. Serena Sante, of the Webster Clinic." Her cell phone raises to her ear it ring, ring, rings...
Novel is elsewhere - he's lounging outside the home he worked so hard to improve, enjoying inexplicably warm night-time weather further towards the outskirts of town. There's a cheap Budweiser in his hand as he slowly drinks and lazes, arms draped over the wings of the lawn chair.
Serena is calling Novel on her cell phone.
The ginger man in the brown overcoat blinks a bit "Ah, yes, of course, by all means... Dr. Sante. Don't worry, my daughter isn't far I promise. We were just at the campsite down the road." he repeats again, smoothing his overcoat out nervously. He waits, glancing from the black sedan to Serena as he shifts his weight from foot to foot.
his hand starts to slip inside his overcoat.
Novel stirs a moment at the vibrating of his phone, plucking it on up and mashing it to his hear as he answers unthinkingly:
"'yellow, Roadkill Cafe, you Kill 'em, We Grill 'em."
Serena stares at her phone for a moment, double checking what number she dialed before she speaks into her phone. "Novel, it's me, Serena. I was working late and someone came by my off campus office on Devilwood Drive. They're camping nearby with their daughter, sounds like she's sick. Just wanted to let you know where I am since it's late and all," she explains, taking steps towards the ginger man in the brown overcoat as she talks on the phone.
The ginger man in the brown overcoat smiles meekly as he steps back "Right this way Dr. Sante. This is... Quite an out of the way location for a doctor." he comments as he glances up at the somewhat dilapidated abode, and then around at the dirt road that leads further into the red light district. "I imagine it would be hard to find you here?" he asks curiously, moving to open the passenger side door for her almost gentlemanly.
He shakes steps back from the door and motions for her to sit, as he idly starts to finger the back rear door, looking down the road.
"Uhhh, nobody camps in the woods around here, it's full of giant spiders and other bullshit, remember? Well, I mean I guess you -can-, people do, I see campsites cleared near the road. But I wouldn't. People vanish all the fucking time. Make sure to bring a gun and some body armor, at the very least," Novel answers the phone, reaching with his other pinkie to start cleaning out his ear. "It'd be really annoying if I had to go rescue you from a satyr or someshit."
Naively, Serena gets into the sedan, into the passenger side that the stranger opens so gentlemanly-like for Serena, before her brow furrows as Novel points out the obvious. "It's not far from here, so maybe it's-" She calls out to the ginger man. "You said it's close to here? In the woods, or next to the woods?" The difference seems to matter, though she murmurs into her phone. "I don't have any of those?"
There's no response as the back door opens in a flash and the inger man in the overcoat is sitting in the backseat behind her. There's no time for her to react as he's got a foul smelling cloth and is in the process of reaching around the front seat to try to wrap it about her nose and mouth "It's a, a bear!" he yells at the phone. "Watch out Dr. Sante! Don't worry, I have bear spray!" He seems to be yelling at the phone rather than to her, not that this would be visible or relevant at the moment.
Serena tries to protest, but it's too late for that. The cloth is already over her mouth and nose, any noise muffled. Her eyes roll as she starts to pass out from whatever it is, the phone falling from her hand.
"Oh." Novel pauses a moment. "I REALLY gotta take you out hunting and teach you how to shoot things sometime. Well, if you're near Sludgefukk they sell pipe guns and stuff. The dude all the way behind the building - he's been bothering me to acquire a junkyard for him so I'll probably get him one of those one of these days. And there's probably - hey, what the fuck?!" He calls out in clear and obvious annoyance, rising up from his lawn chair and exasperation in his tone. Probably because there'd be more screaming. He groans, thunking his palm to his forehead - and rolls to his feet, stepping out to jump into his suspiciously windowless van and gunning it.
The ginger man breathes a sigh of relief as her body goes limp. "I'm dreadfully sorry Dr. Sante, I really wish you hadn't called anyone." he says, moving to hang up the phone. Of course he has no idea how close to her office this place really is, so he's a bit casual about making sure Serena's hands and feet are in the vehicle, that her phone is disposed of in the bushes, and that he's wiped his fingerprints off the doorknob. He has time afterall, doesn't he?
The inger man is kinda blowing these color codes tonight.
Serena is just slumped over inside the sedan.
Novel lives by the south-east side, far outside town, nearer to the beach. Getting to devilwood requires driving halfway across town - though you can take the back roads west and then north to get there faster. Certainly faster then doing the traffic-laden bridge or obeying any traffic laws.
And so it is that the ginger man in the brown overcoat is departing just as Novel arrives. Is is suspicious that he's pulling out of the driveway with no headlights on? What about the strangely blurred license plate? And if headlights were aimed properly, one might notice that the passenger side front seat has been fully reclined back.
The anesthesia, inexpertly applied by one that is most certainly not a doctor himself, much less an anesthesiologist may be having somewhat unpredictable effects and durations on the 'patient' as well.
And so it is that a certain windowless van comes roaring down the road just as the ginger man is pulling out of the driveway, and just as Dr. Sante might be regaining just a hint of awareness, sluggish though it may be.
"I told you I'm not feeling well, Mother," Serena slurs, almost drunkenly as she starts coming to, groaning low and pitiful. "Why-? Why-??" Her words are slow and clunky, thick upon her tongue, her vision swimming as she remains slumped in the passenger seat.
Novel is not one to engage in subtlety. If he had been smarter, perhaps he would have used the shadow-walk to one of his owned buildings nearby. Arrive on time. Used a supernatural ability or two, but instead he has his brights turned on as the van jostles and thumps along. A COMPETING kidnapped? Never?! And then, rather sloppily, he drives to park right in front of that vehicle and the driveway like an asshole.
Or slam into it.
To be fair, even if it was a six-year old on a tricycle Novel may have done the same thing.
"Oh shit." the ginger man in the brown overcoat whispers to himself as the woman starts to stir. His attention is fully engaged with the woman, before he realizes far too late that the speeding car on the old dirt road isn't just going to pass by for some drunken shennanagins in the deep woods. "Oh Shit!" he says a bit louder, the pace of his breathing increasing.
Rolling down his window he calls out "Sir, sir, this is an emergency!" he calls. "I need to get this woman to a hospital. She's having an episode!"
"Why don't you ever believe me?" Serena continues to slur, groaning still. Whatever she thinks is going on in her mind is certainly not what seems to be going on now around her as her head lolls heavily upon her shoulders, swinging slowly back and forth as she struggles to raise it, struggling even to open her eyes fully.
Novel casually cranks down the window - sorry, no motorized assistance here - as he peers out towards the man. There's a long, languid stare, as he reaches up to peel off his sunglasses. "Say." He says, after a heartbeat. "I recognize that voice." And then suddenly there's a loaded wrist-crossbow pointed across the short distance. "So where's that bear?" He says with an open leer.
The ginger man blinks in suprise "Uh, uhm, right right." he looks to Serena "Oh please please be quiet, just for a moment." Getting out of the car now with his hands up "I'm sorry, there seems to have been-been a misunderstanding." he bites his lip, looking over Novel's countenance appraisingly, then the van. "Ahem, that's a nice vehicle you have. And a lovely, errr, crossbow? Not really the latest make though is it?" he attempts a smarmy smile, but he's sweating buckets.
"I just need to borrow the young doctor for a few things right quick. I assure you, the woman will come to no harm, and indeed she and many other people will only be helped!" he says with a sudden fervor.
He coughs, getting ahold of himself and attempts that smarmy smile, like a bad actor asked to play a conman in a low-budget advertisement. "You could be one such individual who benefits? Let me just... Get my wallet shall I? ANd maybe I can persuade you to find something more interesting to do with your evening?"
Serena slurs tiredly, still unable to raise her head or open her eyes all the way. "Why do you always want me to shuuuu- shuuuut upppp?"
looks like he might jump out of his skin at Serena's question, eyes wide open.
"Actually you know what, that is pretty tempting. I'm down for a bribe." He sounds surprisingly amicable to this. "And helping a bunch of people, right? Go on, go grab your wallet. I'm sure this is all a misunderstanding. I came here to shoot bears." It is a blatant, obvious lie.
And then Novel promptly shoots the ginger man if he makes the mistake of turning his back because he's a dick.
The ginger man reaches into his overcoat to retrieve his wallet. "Thank you sir, you won't regret this. My organization is very influential, and well resourced. You'll find yourself well compensated for your understanding on this matter." he assures hurriedly, but as Serena continues to stir he does indeed turn towards the sedan with a start "Please Dr. Sante, just settle down this will all be over... AUGH!"
That was probably pretty close to exposing his back. He stumbles, dropping his wallet which lands beside one of the tires, a crossbow bolt in his side. He stares at it in disbelief. "Shit..." he whispers, reaching into his overcoat for something else this time, and drawing out a sapphire-hilted dagger.
The knife doesn't look made for combat, but rather ceremonial in nature "Shit shit shit shit." he says, and ignoring the immediate threat to his life, lunges at Serena, though there's a notable stumbling from the wound.
Seems to take great glee in playing cat-and-mouse and making the ginger man suffer. Novel hums under his breath, "Right, right. Getting compensated right now." The stumbling is worse. There was something in that horrible scrap-metal bolt that likely came preinstalled with tetanus, and what follows is a bowie knife CHUCKED at his shoulder as he lazes in his van, not bothering to get up and go charging at the man. "Awh, c'mon. We just got started and having fun!" He says, cheer and glee in his voice. "Didn't you wanna talk this over a bit?"
The ginger man yelps as another weapon lodges in his shoulder, just as the semi-delerious woman clocks him in the jaw. The saphire-hilted dagger clatters to the ground as the man falls to his side, groaning in pain. "No no no no, it can't end like this. You don't understand." he sobbing now. "Please, please. I just want to help them. No one will do it if not me. PLEASE." his cries are piteous as the toxin overtakes him, his face contorted frozen misery.
His wallet lays at the base of the tire of his sedan, fallen open it reveals four expired coupons, a gift card for the hometown diner with $5 printed on the front, and thirteen dollars, mostly in ones.
Serena squints from inside the sedan, slurring still as she says, "Novel??"
"Shhh." Novel notes to the man, as he finally decides to slide his way out of the car. The misery just brings a smile to his lips and a light to his eyes as he reaches for the man - and yanks his bowie knife out viciously. He wipes it clean upon his jacket, not answering Serena right away, doing his best to get his expression under control. Next comes reloading the crossbow in case there -is- actually a bear. Yoink the coupons and dollars, and then straighten up after pocketing.
"Heyyy, Serena." He says soothingly. "Didn't realize you moved back into your office. Kinda dangerous out here for a lady, isn't it?" He jokes. "How about we head home so you can sleep this off." As he moves on over towards the vehicle and leans against it, grinning.
Disoriented, Serena squints at Novel's form. Or what she thinks is Novel. It at least sounds like Novel "Kaven let me use the office. Can you help me? I'm sleeeeeeepy." Her head is still lolling a bit, but at least her eyes are open, a tad. The ginger man is forgotten as her brain scrambles to make sense of things.
"Sure. We'll get you Snake and some tea," Novel mentions offhand, leaning into the car to try scooping Serena right out in a princess carry. He casually and 'accidentally' trods on the would-be kidnapper's shoulder. "I gotta make some calls on the way home, though, alright? So I might be a bit slow to get there."
He was to be the chosen one; He alone accepted Dr. Sante's place in the prophecy against the will of his organization, his friends, his psychiatrist, and those worthless drunks at the diner. He was destined, the chosen one! But alas, our hero was casually poisoned and left to bleed out in the driveway, forgotten by the one he thought he could save, and some guy in a van. Eventually a bear stumbles across our hero and hungrily finishes what Novel started as he lays, still paralyzed, barely concious, and only remorseful that he could not save the world as he was prophecied to do and prove those drunks wrong.
line And so it is that the villains in the ginger man's story escape into the moonlight in the old broken down van, their ill-begotten goods stowed safely away to be redeemed for $1.50 at their next visit to the hometown diner.
The plot twists when Serena, trying to fulfill her medical oath, is kidnapped by the man under the guise of needing urgent help for his daughter. Her attempted rescue call to a friend, Novel, turns into a dire capture scene in her own driveway. As Serena slips into unconsciousness due to the kidnapper's use of a chloroform cloth, Novel, having been alerted to the situation, arrives in his van. He confronts and combats the kidnapper with a mixture of nonchalance and lethal skill, eventually saving Serena from the grasp of her abductor. The kidnapper, driven by a misguided prophecy that Serena's death would avert an apocalypse, meets a grim fate—left injured and ignored, he ultimately becomes prey to a bear, fulfilling a darkly ironic turn of fortunes. Serena, though disoriented, is safely extracted from the scenario by Novel, their escape marked by a morose combination of victory and the macabre aftermath of the evening's events.
(Serena's odd encounter(SRKaven):SRKaven)
[Fri Apr 4 2025]
In a Cozy Office filled with plants
The therapist's office is a warm, inviting space that feels more like a cozy
living room than a clinical workspace. A plush leather lounge chair chaise
with a matching cushioned ottoman sits near a large window, bathed in soft
natural light, offering clients a place to recline and unwind. Nearby, a
well-worn but comfortable armchair serves as the therapist's seat, positioned
thoughtfully to encourage open conversation. A wooden coffee table sits
between them, holding a small tray with a ceramic teapot, a few books, and a
gently flickering candle. Against one wall, a sturdy wooden desk in the
corner is neatly arranged with notes, a laptop, and a few personal trinkets.
Lush green plants spill over bookshelves filled with psychology texts
and novels, their presence adding a sense of life and tranquility to the
space. Potted plants and succulents are scattered throughout the room to lend
a calming aura to the room as if one has stumbled into a cozy oasis amidst the
insanity of whatever may be going on in the wider world outside.
It is night, about 55F(12C) degrees, and there are a few wispy white clouds in the sky. There is a waxing crescent moon.
(Your target becomes the obsession of a member of The Sapphire Martyrs who believes that your target's death will bring them closer to their goal. The martyr stalks your target, leaving cryptic messages and symbols related to their cause. They believe that by killing your target, they will not only move a step closer to their ultimate goal but also save your target from the impending apocalypse. The target must survive long enough for their allies to decipher the messages, track down the martyr, and stop them before it's too late.)
It's late, very late, but Serena remains up at her desk for reasons that are her own. There's a lot to think on from the past few days, and a lot to distract her from it all. But as the moon hits a certain angle, the silver rays strike something on the floor just out of view. A pale white envelope that seems to have gotten carelessly stuck in the windowsill, crumpled by compaction between frame and window.
Perhaps this draws her attention enough to be on alert, perhaps she might notice that the door to her bedroom is open, that a few items around the room have been disturbed, or that the file cabinet isn't QUITE closed.
Perhaps a few of these things have been missed, but nonetheless there's enough evidence sloppily left, that even a mind ensconced in the weariness of the late hour would eventually realize; someone has been here. And they were looking about quite thoroughly.
The lights flicker, and the sound of a vehicle departing. Someone's left with her ride; perhaps her roomate. She's alone in the house now.
What will She Do?
Serena rubs her eyes and sighs, shutting her laptop. Work, work, and more work. Even at this late hour, it seems. As she finally takes a moment to herself to relax, Serena's gaze moves towards the window where she admires at least the moonlight pouring into the room. But that glance too reveals taht envelope stuck in the windowsill.
"That's odd..." Serena murmurs, rising from the desk and taking the short steps towards the window. She opens the window to let the chill night air through while reaching for the envelope, to scope it's contents.
The envelope, crumpled and battered, bares a coffee stain. I'ts already been opened. This wasn't for her, this was something for someone else that got caught carelessly here.
Within the envelope she finds old style photographs, glossy. They're of her. Some are from a year or two ago, one even from when she finished her PhD. But many are far older; When she was a little girl, playing on the swings. One of her with her brother, looking pale and uncomfortable.
Upon the photos, spread chronologically are the words "Hair of spun platinum, shadowed by glory; This has to be her" in red ink. "They can't see it. They have that pretender in their sites, but this is her. She's dissapeared though; why can't I find her?"
As she looks through the photos the wind whistles through the trees, and the faint sound of a car approaching in the distance. There are no headlights on though, yet the sound of some one pulling into the driveway can be heard from the open window, the moonlight barely illuminating the sheen off of an old, black-painted sedan.
Serena's brow furrows as she sorts through the photos. The oldest ones of her as a young girl with her brother cause Serena to turn paler, almost as pale as the little girl in the pictures. She reads the writing on the photos aloud, at first.
"Hair of spun platinum, showered by glory; this has to be-"
Serena stops, and frowns as her eyes scan the red ink. "What the fuck?" But she can't stop to think about it too long, as she hears the sound of a car pulling up, and peeks out the window to see what can be seen. For whoever comes to visit at such a time?
There's a soft knocking at the door. There's no time to respond before the words carry through "Hello? Hello? I'm sorry to call so late. I need a doctor, quick." Despite the panicked tone, the words are hushed, as if disturbing any but the occupants is to be avoided.
Serena swiftly leaves her office and moves to the front door. She's a doctor, after all, and for all intents and purposes, it seems that someone -is- in need. She opens the front door, peerin g out into the dark night. "I am a doctor, whatever seems to be the matter?" she asks, scanning to take in the situation.
What she sees is a nervous looking man with curly red hair in his mid thirties and a brown overcoat. He's wearing gloves, and nervously glancing over his shoulder. Upon opening the door his gaze fixates upon you intently; your face, your hair, everything is taken in. For a moment there's a look of relief "It's..." he stops himself from speaking further. Coughing "Ah, yes. I'm sorry to disturb you so late. They told me a doctor lives here. My daughter, she's... She's sick. Came down with it suddenly. I-I don't know what's wrong. One moment she was fine, then she said she was talking with a nice man and now, now she can barely breath."
His worried voice is betrayed by a particular attention to Serena's expression.
Serena looks around, "Where is she? How long has it been? Is she in any state to be moved to the Webster Clinic?" she asks, grabbing a go-bag from behind the front door. "Bring me to her?" she says, stepping out of the doorway, shutting it behind her.
He blinks, as if a bit shocked, but adapts a thankful expression quickly "You truly are a godsend, Serena." he blurts out, moving to clasp her hand gratefully. "She's, she's not far. We were camping at a campsite near here. I'm from out of town." he says, the faint glint of saphire seen now down the front of his trenchcoat. "Thank you so so much. We can take my car."
shakes his head quickly "I don't know if she can be moved, I don't know what's wrong with her! She's normally such a lively child, but all of a sudden she's sick as a wounded dove."
Serena frowns as the stranger fills her in. "I see. Well, let's be on our way then, let me just... let someone know where I'm going. I'm Dr. Sante by the way. Dr. Serena Sante, of the Webster Clinic." Her cell phone raises to her ear it ring, ring, rings...
Novel is elsewhere - he's lounging outside the home he worked so hard to improve, enjoying inexplicably warm night-time weather further towards the outskirts of town. There's a cheap Budweiser in his hand as he slowly drinks and lazes, arms draped over the wings of the lawn chair.
Serena is calling Novel on her cell phone.
The ginger man in the brown overcoat blinks a bit "Ah, yes, of course, by all means... Dr. Sante. Don't worry, my daughter isn't far I promise. We were just at the campsite down the road." he repeats again, smoothing his overcoat out nervously. He waits, glancing from the black sedan to Serena as he shifts his weight from foot to foot.
his hand starts to slip inside his overcoat.
Novel stirs a moment at the vibrating of his phone, plucking it on up and mashing it to his hear as he answers unthinkingly:
"'yellow, Roadkill Cafe, you Kill 'em, We Grill 'em."
Serena stares at her phone for a moment, double checking what number she dialed before she speaks into her phone. "Novel, it's me, Serena. I was working late and someone came by my off campus office on Devilwood Drive. They're camping nearby with their daughter, sounds like she's sick. Just wanted to let you know where I am since it's late and all," she explains, taking steps towards the ginger man in the brown overcoat as she talks on the phone.
The ginger man in the brown overcoat smiles meekly as he steps back "Right this way Dr. Sante. This is... Quite an out of the way location for a doctor." he comments as he glances up at the somewhat dilapidated abode, and then around at the dirt road that leads further into the red light district. "I imagine it would be hard to find you here?" he asks curiously, moving to open the passenger side door for her almost gentlemanly.
He shakes steps back from the door and motions for her to sit, as he idly starts to finger the back rear door, looking down the road.
"Uhhh, nobody camps in the woods around here, it's full of giant spiders and other bullshit, remember? Well, I mean I guess you -can-, people do, I see campsites cleared near the road. But I wouldn't. People vanish all the fucking time. Make sure to bring a gun and some body armor, at the very least," Novel answers the phone, reaching with his other pinkie to start cleaning out his ear. "It'd be really annoying if I had to go rescue you from a satyr or someshit."
Naively, Serena gets into the sedan, into the passenger side that the stranger opens so gentlemanly-like for Serena, before her brow furrows as Novel points out the obvious. "It's not far from here, so maybe it's-" She calls out to the ginger man. "You said it's close to here? In the woods, or next to the woods?" The difference seems to matter, though she murmurs into her phone. "I don't have any of those?"
There's no response as the back door opens in a flash and the inger man in the overcoat is sitting in the backseat behind her. There's no time for her to react as he's got a foul smelling cloth and is in the process of reaching around the front seat to try to wrap it about her nose and mouth "It's a, a bear!" he yells at the phone. "Watch out Dr. Sante! Don't worry, I have bear spray!" He seems to be yelling at the phone rather than to her, not that this would be visible or relevant at the moment.
Serena tries to protest, but it's too late for that. The cloth is already over her mouth and nose, any noise muffled. Her eyes roll as she starts to pass out from whatever it is, the phone falling from her hand.
"Oh." Novel pauses a moment. "I REALLY gotta take you out hunting and teach you how to shoot things sometime. Well, if you're near Sludgefukk they sell pipe guns and stuff. The dude all the way behind the building - he's been bothering me to acquire a junkyard for him so I'll probably get him one of those one of these days. And there's probably - hey, what the fuck?!" He calls out in clear and obvious annoyance, rising up from his lawn chair and exasperation in his tone. Probably because there'd be more screaming. He groans, thunking his palm to his forehead - and rolls to his feet, stepping out to jump into his suspiciously windowless van and gunning it.
The ginger man breathes a sigh of relief as her body goes limp. "I'm dreadfully sorry Dr. Sante, I really wish you hadn't called anyone." he says, moving to hang up the phone. Of course he has no idea how close to her office this place really is, so he's a bit casual about making sure Serena's hands and feet are in the vehicle, that her phone is disposed of in the bushes, and that he's wiped his fingerprints off the doorknob. He has time afterall, doesn't he?
The inger man is kinda blowing these color codes tonight.
Serena is just slumped over inside the sedan.
Novel lives by the south-east side, far outside town, nearer to the beach. Getting to devilwood requires driving halfway across town - though you can take the back roads west and then north to get there faster. Certainly faster then doing the traffic-laden bridge or obeying any traffic laws.
And so it is that the ginger man in the brown overcoat is departing just as Novel arrives. Is is suspicious that he's pulling out of the driveway with no headlights on? What about the strangely blurred license plate? And if headlights were aimed properly, one might notice that the passenger side front seat has been fully reclined back.
The anesthesia, inexpertly applied by one that is most certainly not a doctor himself, much less an anesthesiologist may be having somewhat unpredictable effects and durations on the 'patient' as well.
And so it is that a certain windowless van comes roaring down the road just as the ginger man is pulling out of the driveway, and just as Dr. Sante might be regaining just a hint of awareness, sluggish though it may be.
"I told you I'm not feeling well, Mother," Serena slurs, almost drunkenly as she starts coming to, groaning low and pitiful. "Why-? Why-??" Her words are slow and clunky, thick upon her tongue, her vision swimming as she remains slumped in the passenger seat.
Novel is not one to engage in subtlety. If he had been smarter, perhaps he would have used the shadow-walk to one of his owned buildings nearby. Arrive on time. Used a supernatural ability or two, but instead he has his brights turned on as the van jostles and thumps along. A COMPETING kidnapped? Never?! And then, rather sloppily, he drives to park right in front of that vehicle and the driveway like an asshole.
Or slam into it.
To be fair, even if it was a six-year old on a tricycle Novel may have done the same thing.
"Oh shit." the ginger man in the brown overcoat whispers to himself as the woman starts to stir. His attention is fully engaged with the woman, before he realizes far too late that the speeding car on the old dirt road isn't just going to pass by for some drunken shennanagins in the deep woods. "Oh Shit!" he says a bit louder, the pace of his breathing increasing.
Rolling down his window he calls out "Sir, sir, this is an emergency!" he calls. "I need to get this woman to a hospital. She's having an episode!"
"Why don't you ever believe me?" Serena continues to slur, groaning still. Whatever she thinks is going on in her mind is certainly not what seems to be going on now around her as her head lolls heavily upon her shoulders, swinging slowly back and forth as she struggles to raise it, struggling even to open her eyes fully.
Novel casually cranks down the window - sorry, no motorized assistance here - as he peers out towards the man. There's a long, languid stare, as he reaches up to peel off his sunglasses. "Say." He says, after a heartbeat. "I recognize that voice." And then suddenly there's a loaded wrist-crossbow pointed across the short distance. "So where's that bear?" He says with an open leer.
The ginger man blinks in suprise "Uh, uhm, right right." he looks to Serena "Oh please please be quiet, just for a moment." Getting out of the car now with his hands up "I'm sorry, there seems to have been-been a misunderstanding." he bites his lip, looking over Novel's countenance appraisingly, then the van. "Ahem, that's a nice vehicle you have. And a lovely, errr, crossbow? Not really the latest make though is it?" he attempts a smarmy smile, but he's sweating buckets.
"I just need to borrow the young doctor for a few things right quick. I assure you, the woman will come to no harm, and indeed she and many other people will only be helped!" he says with a sudden fervor.
He coughs, getting ahold of himself and attempts that smarmy smile, like a bad actor asked to play a conman in a low-budget advertisement. "You could be one such individual who benefits? Let me just... Get my wallet shall I? ANd maybe I can persuade you to find something more interesting to do with your evening?"
Serena slurs tiredly, still unable to raise her head or open her eyes all the way. "Why do you always want me to shuuuu- shuuuut upppp?"
looks like he might jump out of his skin at Serena's question, eyes wide open.
"Actually you know what, that is pretty tempting. I'm down for a bribe." He sounds surprisingly amicable to this. "And helping a bunch of people, right? Go on, go grab your wallet. I'm sure this is all a misunderstanding. I came here to shoot bears." It is a blatant, obvious lie.
And then Novel promptly shoots the ginger man if he makes the mistake of turning his back because he's a dick.
The ginger man reaches into his overcoat to retrieve his wallet. "Thank you sir, you won't regret this. My organization is very influential, and well resourced. You'll find yourself well compensated for your understanding on this matter." he assures hurriedly, but as Serena continues to stir he does indeed turn towards the sedan with a start "Please Dr. Sante, just settle down this will all be over... AUGH!"
That was probably pretty close to exposing his back. He stumbles, dropping his wallet which lands beside one of the tires, a crossbow bolt in his side. He stares at it in disbelief. "Shit..." he whispers, reaching into his overcoat for something else this time, and drawing out a sapphire-hilted dagger.
The knife doesn't look made for combat, but rather ceremonial in nature "Shit shit shit shit." he says, and ignoring the immediate threat to his life, lunges at Serena, though there's a notable stumbling from the wound.
Seems to take great glee in playing cat-and-mouse and making the ginger man suffer. Novel hums under his breath, "Right, right. Getting compensated right now." The stumbling is worse. There was something in that horrible scrap-metal bolt that likely came preinstalled with tetanus, and what follows is a bowie knife CHUCKED at his shoulder as he lazes in his van, not bothering to get up and go charging at the man. "Awh, c'mon. We just got started and having fun!" He says, cheer and glee in his voice. "Didn't you wanna talk this over a bit?"
The ginger man yelps as another weapon lodges in his shoulder, just as the semi-delerious woman clocks him in the jaw. The saphire-hilted dagger clatters to the ground as the man falls to his side, groaning in pain. "No no no no, it can't end like this. You don't understand." he sobbing now. "Please, please. I just want to help them. No one will do it if not me. PLEASE." his cries are piteous as the toxin overtakes him, his face contorted frozen misery.
His wallet lays at the base of the tire of his sedan, fallen open it reveals four expired coupons, a gift card for the hometown diner with $5 printed on the front, and thirteen dollars, mostly in ones.
Serena squints from inside the sedan, slurring still as she says, "Novel??"
"Shhh." Novel notes to the man, as he finally decides to slide his way out of the car. The misery just brings a smile to his lips and a light to his eyes as he reaches for the man - and yanks his bowie knife out viciously. He wipes it clean upon his jacket, not answering Serena right away, doing his best to get his expression under control. Next comes reloading the crossbow in case there -is- actually a bear. Yoink the coupons and dollars, and then straighten up after pocketing.
"Heyyy, Serena." He says soothingly. "Didn't realize you moved back into your office. Kinda dangerous out here for a lady, isn't it?" He jokes. "How about we head home so you can sleep this off." As he moves on over towards the vehicle and leans against it, grinning.
Disoriented, Serena squints at Novel's form. Or what she thinks is Novel. It at least sounds like Novel "Kaven let me use the office. Can you help me? I'm sleeeeeeepy." Her head is still lolling a bit, but at least her eyes are open, a tad. The ginger man is forgotten as her brain scrambles to make sense of things.
"Sure. We'll get you Snake and some tea," Novel mentions offhand, leaning into the car to try scooping Serena right out in a princess carry. He casually and 'accidentally' trods on the would-be kidnapper's shoulder. "I gotta make some calls on the way home, though, alright? So I might be a bit slow to get there."
He was to be the chosen one; He alone accepted Dr. Sante's place in the prophecy against the will of his organization, his friends, his psychiatrist, and those worthless drunks at the diner. He was destined, the chosen one! But alas, our hero was casually poisoned and left to bleed out in the driveway, forgotten by the one he thought he could save, and some guy in a van. Eventually a bear stumbles across our hero and hungrily finishes what Novel started as he lays, still paralyzed, barely concious, and only remorseful that he could not save the world as he was prophecied to do and prove those drunks wrong.
line And so it is that the villains in the ginger man's story escape into the moonlight in the old broken down van, their ill-begotten goods stowed safely away to be redeemed for $1.50 at their next visit to the hometown diner.