The Black Sphere – GS.

 

As you may have read, the Detective Frank Malone was dead…..or was he?

Scene setting : The Gantz room – Gantz series.

This arc is written following the Death of Frank Malone.  Co-writers – Fu, Zu, Ota, and Moo

 

https://i1.wp.com/i.gyazo.com/6109bd8763ec1e4a64719194a066825e.png
Nobody can get in, nobody can get out.
Used for missions only.

 

Moo:  Trent scanned into the room in the same position he’d been in previously. Whistling, he let the tune die after drawing out the last note, which was rather flat. It seemed he was the first one in the room again; he looked around the room with a bored expression, staring as though he hadn’t slept in weeks with his shoulders slightly hunched. Being that the last mission had gone uncompleted, he was back to zero points again. No matter; he enjoyed this game anyway and had completed it a few times already. Though, that last mission was definitely a first. Having to protect his boss from the rest of the Gantz team had been unexpected, but no problem. Trent wasn’t the type to help anyone during their missions. If he killed them to bring them here, it was more often than not to play with them like they were life-size toys. That being the case, he had easily killed each one of his teammates in order to complete his job. The best part was he was never punished by Gantz for doing so. It was just a question of who the target would be this time. His boss again? Or another alien? Stuffing his hands in his jean pockets, he resumed his whistling and walked toward one of the walls of the room, waiting as others scanned in shortly after him.

 

Razorbackwriter:  Cold. All around there was nothing but the blackness that had embraced the fallen detective into what he thought was death. He had always been told that there was a light. A light at the end of the tunnel. There was neither of those things. Frank was dead. Wasn’t he? Far off, there was this slow…beating sound. The sound that a heart makes, though it was faint at first. Slowly building. Blood…rushing back and forth through the arteries. A shudder….breathing that exploded from his lungs as Frank’s eyes shot open.

~GASP!!~

Deep panting. Eyes, widening, searching. He could see a room. A door. A window. A big…black ball. Trembling hands placed down on the ground as the detective realized he was propped against one of the walls, like a used puppet. Frank’s head lowered as he gazed down at his suit.

“What happened?”

It was then he heard the faint whistle, that belonged to another. As the detective looked up, he saw a man that he had never seen before. He appeared to be bored, or at least that is the impression that he gave off. The man was slouching -staring off into space. Frank’s eyes went back to the large black ball again. Why was there just a man and a big black ball in a room? Was Frank asleep? Was this what death was like?

“Am I dead?”

~RB~

 

Moo:  A new group of people, but more or less the same routine. The second person to scan into the room happened to be one of the most annoying types; full of questions. As if Trent knew anything that would be helpful. “Hell if I know.” He scratches his head, leaning against the wall with his hand still in his pocket. His feet were crossed as he hunched, giving off the vibe of a rather careless person. Letting out a long, exaggerated sigh, he shrugged his shoulders and tilted his head back, looking out the window across the room out to the skyline. It was night time, as always. But the city lights really didn’t make it seem any different; New York was a city full of life, after all. “Does it look like you’re dead?” What a pointless question. “You’re breathing. New York is right there.” Trent pointed out to the skyline lazily for a moment before dropping his hand again. He turned his head to look at the man sitting against the wall, his mouth splitting into a toothy grin. “But you did die.” The others around the room that had scanned in went on ignored. For now, Trent’s attention was on this guy. As annoying as it was, he felt he could entertain himself now. For a few moments, at least.

 

Razorbackwriter:  There were other people in the room beside this guy and Frank, though the guy with his hands in his pockets was the only one willing to answer his questions. Mind you, he wasn’t exactly helpful. Trent hadn’t been witness to Frank’s death, and Frank himself had no memory of it. Curious, Frank pushed himself off the floor. He needed more clues to prove he was really alive. Trent pointed out the window at the New York skyline, and sure enough it was just how Frank remembered it. He stood with his hands pressed to the panes of glass, staring outward, and yet he was unable to say anything. Trent had more or less confirmed what he believed to be true. He had died. How did he die though? The events leading up to meeting the Commander at the warehouse were all kind of fuzzy. Like when you are experiencing a hangover and can’t quite tell what you did the night before.

Looking down at his clothing, it showed no signs of wear and tear. No bullet holes…no blood stains. Frank reached up and touched all around his neck, then his face, as though trying to feel for wounds…scars. Anything.

“How did I die? Who killed me?”

Again, with the twenty questions. Frank had so many, but by looking at this guy who had a sick grin on his face, he was enjoying Frank’s torment.

“I gotta get out of here. I have to find Tommy. Gotta tell him, that the Commander is dead.”

At mention of this, Frank headed for the door.

~RB~

 

Moo:  So this guy didn’t know how he died. That was a clear enough sign that this was the business Bols had taken care of. Chuckling quietly to himself, Trent watched as Frank palmed at the window, looking completely lost at this point. Who knew if his memory would ever return to him? Well, whatever. It wasn’t like it mattered; this guy probably couldn’t do anything about it, even if he remembered something. And he would definitely be disappointed when he reached that front door, as he wouldn’t be able to even grab the knob. Try as he might, it was impossible for anyone to leave the apartment until the mission was over. With a small grunt of amusement, Trent pushed himself from the wall and resumed his whistling, ignoring as others within the room tossed similar questions at him that Frank had. It was because he was the only calm guy in the room. But he wouldn’t have an answer for any of them. He would simply wait until that familiar tune began playing and the Gantz ball opened, revealing racks of guns and suit cases. Each suit case was designated to a particular person, as it had their names on them. If opened, they would find a rather peculiar suit inside. It would only fit that person; if someone like Trent tried to take one of theirs, it would be rendered useless. Picking up a few guns, Trent holstered them accordingly and waited, staring at the screen that popped up on the sphere.

 

Razorbackwriter:  Frank reached out for the door knob so that he could find his way out of the strange room with the big black ball, and the whistling guy. The only problem was that his hand passed right through it. The detective let out a shriek, before trying again and again, but having the same results. Frank held up his hand before him and it looked real and solid, yet the door acted like he was a ghost or apparition. Turning around to try and get answers again from Mr Whistler, had Frank see the ball open and reveal racks of guns and suitcases. The suits within were meant to be worn by the people standing or waiting in the room. Wordlessly, Frank pointed at the opened sphere, then held his finger up as though to ask another question, but the Mister Whistler (which is now his nickname, in Frank’s eyes), was already holstering some guns. As others came and grabbed their suitcases and guns, Frank simply got in line and waited till it was his turn. Sure enough there was one with his name on it. Hesitantly, Frank reached in and took his out, along with a set of guns, just like the others. It was like being back in boot camp, or at least a very odd version of it.

Taking the suitcase and guns over to a corner, he opened the case and in it he pulled out a strange looking suit. Frank held it up before him and gave it a shake as it unfurled. Others were trying theirs on, and so…thinking this was going to be what he had to do, he took off his day suit and slipped into the special one, doing the zip up and then holstering the guns. Were they preparing for some sort of war? And who were the guns for?

Frank looked down at himself, now dressed like all the others. His old suit, he placed into the case and did it up. Knowing that Mister Whistler was already at the sphere and staring at the screen, Frank ambled over and then whispered

“Is the sphere….thing going to unlock the door?”

~RB~

 

Moo:  The black world Z had been submerged in suddenly seemed to evaporate. Her eyes fluttered open to a light of an apartment. At first, she suspected to have been in the hospital, as though D.T had reached her in time. But instead she was lying on the floor of a plain room. She sat up very slowly, surprised that she could breathe and felt no pain in her chest. Her hand rose to her chest, feeling no hole from where she had been impaled, and there was no blood on her clothing, nor any tears. Blinking, Z looked around. D.T had managed to get into this room too…but how? Why were they here? She curiously looked back at him. “Where are we, D.T?” She could only assume he knew the answer because he was awake and had never died. Had he listened to her about putting his patch back on?

Turning and sitting on her knees, she looked about the room where people were conversing or having small anxiety attacks. It seemed she wasn’t the only one who was confused. It wasn’t until some music began playing that she turned to look at the giant black sphere. A male was already standing there expectantly, tossing his clothes on the floor. He wore some weird suit and began holstering guns. At this point, Z could only assume he knew what he was doing and stood up to look at what the racks were lined with. Cases. One had her name, Zoey, written on it. How peculiar… This was by no means normal. Z took the case after looking from it to the guy she stood beside, and finally grabbed her case and D.T’s, taking both back with her. Upon opening the cases, suits similar to that guy’s were visible. “Mind helping me out?” she asked the android with a slight coy smile. Back to her old self. She moved to the corner they were near and began undressing, finding that she had to remove her undergarments in order for the suit to fit properly. Men in the room would most likely try to steal glimpses of her body unless D.T did as she requested and blocked their view. Not that it was completely bothersome for the woman.


Trent looked over the screen of the alien the team was suppose to kill tonight. It brought his brow up as he crossed his arms, disregarding a lot of the useless information Gantz provided. Frank’s shriek could be heard from where he stood, causing him to shake his head as he laughed to himself. Here came more questions. He knew it. Pulling off his clothes, he already had his suit on underneath. He just left the discarded clothing on the floor in front of the sphere, ignoring as people began murmuring about his suit. One woman in particular seemed to be observing him as she came closer and inspected him without a hint of shame.

Seeming to have observed him long enough, she was the first to take a case from the rack and open it, walking to the corner of the room to change. Trent turned his head to watch, assuming her weird friend didn’t step in the middle to block his view. Her face might have been a train wreck, but her body was something of a different nature. And if he would be observed, so would she. He tilted his head with interest until others began taking cases too. What the hell? Nobody ever did that. Looking surprised, Trent turned to see a few of them lined up; this was a lot more than usual. Frank was last to mosey himself on over, asking yet another question. With a slight twitch of his lips, Trent’s gaze narrowed at him slightly. “Eventually. If you don’t die.” This wasn’t going to work. Not so many. He scratched his head, seemingly thinking to himself now as he turned and wandered around the sphere. If nobody had noticed before, it would be brought to their attention now; a naked man sat in the middle of the sphere. Trent crouched and poked at the man’s temple with one of his smaller guns. “Hey. Send me first. Got it?” The man appeared to be sleeping, a breathing mask over his mouth. He was connected to Gantz by several cords and looked rather plain. Bald and fair skinned with no muscle definition. He did look anorexic as fuck though.

https://i0.wp.com/i.gyazo.com/d720786a2262345e4f5dcd621c8f8b71.png

 

Fu:  

https://i2.wp.com/i59.tinypic.com/abnfvm.png

– D.T found himself in a room next to Z in a room . How they got there was unknown to him as he had asked him . However at this point D.T felt different then he was before blowing himself up , his hair felt slightly longer and more wavy then it was before ; at the point of covering his eyepatch and his clothes too were tinted black and had furry outlines. D.T was curious about their location as well . But he wasn’t as rude as to just stay quiet and he would reply to her once he found a appropriate response.-

” I believe we were transported somewhere. However exactly where and the reason for our presence here is beyond me ”

– He would watch her pick up the cases and wore them , D.T himself would follow her and obstruct people from observing and at that point would watch and wait to see how things would go afterwards. He didn’t know anyone else who was here as he was still newly awakened so he couldn’t truly speak to others at a optimal dialect at this current moment.-

 

Ota:  

https://i1.wp.com/i1318.photobucket.com/albums/t647/Capacityzero/109_by_kr0npr1nz-d7j4rzq_zpsfsbpcgka.jpg

The reconstruction of the body which had just been taken apart and brought to the apartment, revealed a young female body dressed in what seemed to be a typical mans Imperial Trench-coat, scarf, black jeans and comfortable black Nike Roshe Run Hi SneakerBoots. The overall build was lean and peak-light athletic while her height was around five feet and eleven inches. However, the body was completely motionless by the time the female body was complete, steam coming off of her figure.

System rebooted. All damage has been repaired, manually starting optical hardware. Her eyes would open slightly before fluttering a bit as all the light was coming into her pupils. Her eyes scanned over the individuals and she couldn’t help but arch a brow. All senses and bodily controls have been reinitialized. All systems begin routines. Investigate prior memories of cause and arrival… None found. ERR0R. ERR0R.She’d squint slightly as her eyes rested on the others near by in the same room as them.

“Vitals are normal.” Alice finally stated with her voice as her eyes looked over the room with an almost expressionless looking face. “Parameters of the room however, are unknown. ERR0R detect…” She stopped and looked at the people again before tilting her head to the side. Then looked towards the ball thing that was near the other side of the room with peak curiosity. There was a man inside. Why was there a man inside attached to the ball? “Inquiry. Where are we? What is this location? How did I get here? Why are we here? Who are you people?” She was talking like a computer, it seemed like her speech systems weren’t entirely up and running just yet, despite being a cyborg.

Zu: 

 https://i2.wp.com/i.imgur.com/UfaCHaA.jpg
BRO!

A sudden jolt motivated Kenny, who had recently died, to wake up. He doubled over, heavily sweating after the dream he just had; a dream of death and sorrow. He lost his brother, and it was his fault that he couldn’t save either of them. It took a bit, but after breathing more slowly, he realized something.. he was alive. Kenny took a look around the room to see that he wasn’t the only one in it. He turned himself over once, seeing a big sphere just… sitting there. He looked once again at the people he saw. Is this a dream or something?, he asked himself, almost wondering if he should even ask the question.

 

Razorbackwriter:  
The room was now filling with people. People that had just as many questions as he had done. All looking disoriented, confused and in shock. Frank had just finished doing up his suit, and running his fingers over his name tag, when a pretty girl had grabbed a case and made her way over to a corner to get changed. Was there no privacy in this place? Frank spluttered as she started to get undressed, but thankfully she had someone with her that helped offer something of a privacy shield. The Detective’s cheeks flamed and he turned around whistling an odd tune. Thoughts turned back to Isolde, when he had watched her come out after a shower and she was looking for a towel….or was it the white soccer shorts. Either way, he was not at all comfortable watching the girl change.

Mister Whistler was the next one to get Frank’s attention. There was a naked man sitting in the centre of the black ball, and he was all hooked up to wires and electrodes that The man’s skin was devoid of any pigmentation. Like he was an albino and a sickly one at that. Frank made a face, then when he heard Mister Whistler tell the man that he was first, followed by poking the man with one of his guns, the Detective had to speak up.

“Don’t do that. You might wake the poor bugger. Is the ball thingy keeping him alive?”

Course, his questions might well get drowned out, by the many other voices in the room. One that sounded like a computer speaking, but it was a girl. Frank squinted as he tried to work out what the girl was asking. Same routine questions that Frank himself had asked.

“I don’t know, lady. But I have a feeling the guy in the ball is going to tell us.”

 

~RB~

 

 

 

 

Goodbye Frank : GS.

 

Two wrongs don’t make a right.  The last hours of Detective Frank Malone.

Co-written with Nhal.
Razorbackwriter: Heading out to the street outside Elissa’s apartment, the two men would be saying good bye to each other. Little did they know the importance of what this would mean. Frank now had the goods on the Commander, thanks to Tommy’s connection in the darker underworld of New York. Reaching the curb, Frank puts his hand out to flag down a taxi, as Tommy is about to head to his car.

“You sure you want to use them?” The reporter asks, almost second guessing himself. The evidence in the brown envelope is damaging. So serious in fact that the Commander would never get a job in the city again, not even street sweeping. Frank gave a mere shrug of his shoulders. Everything the Detective had tried to do to clear his name and his own reputation had been hindered by the Commander at each and every turn. With the most recent death of Joey Patone, Frank was now a scapegoat more than ever for who was truly responsible for the mobster’s murder. The Commander had in his possession the photographs that had been taken from Joey’s apartment and featured images of the creature that had taken Rory that fateful night. Those alone could prove that Frank was not in the slightest bit crazy, and backed up the claims that he had made. It would vindicate him not only to those that he served with, but also to his ex wife. Isolde would also be in the clear, since her lab reports on the firing of Frank;s gun would show that he did not shoot Eliissa, or Joey Patone.

One career for another.

“This has to end, Tommy. My life has been a right mess since the night Rory died. I’ve had enough of people holding that over me. You saw the fluffy alien princess upstairs. They exist. That means this creature that attacked Rory also does. The Commander knows it and is trying to keep it under wraps. God knows why. If I have to blackmail the bastard with these pictures to get what’s left of my life back…then so be it.”

Frank had no remorse for the Commander. He was the most corrupt official in New York. This was an easy out for him. All he had to do was hand over the pictures from Joey’s apartment and let sleeping dogs lie.

The reporter let out a sigh as a cab pulled up alongside them.

“This is my ride. I’ll call you. See ya, Tommy.”

Frank smacked the side of Tommy’s arm and then got into the cab. He settled into the back seat as the detective gave him an address that he knew was a place few ventured. Dock nine, Warehouse 32. The cab sped off into the traffic, leaving Tommy standing there on the sidewalk. There was little he could do, but wait for Frank to call him that night, and let him know how it went down.

In the cab, Frank started to text the Commander’s phone.

~Commander, it’s Frank. You and I need to talk. Meet me at Dock nine, Warehouse 32 at 4pm today. Bring the evidence box from Joey’s apartment, and I’ll let you have the goat pictures and footage.~

Frank pressed send, then stared straight ahead as his fingers strummed the outside of the parcel that contained the photographs.

In the Commander’s office, the Commander was dictating a letter to his secretary, when his cell phone started to vibrate. Thinking it could be his new wife, he picked it up – only to turn pale when he read what was on the display. ~Goat pictures?~ The Commander nearly started to choke, and it was bad enough to have his secretary run around behind him to pat his back. “What is it? Are you alright?”

Of course, the Commander was far from okay, and started to scream at the girl to get out of his office. This had to be a set up. Frank didn’t have it in him to try and blackmail anyone. Or did he? The Commander couldn’t take any chances and quickly lept up, grabbing his coat. The evidence box from Joey’s apartment was still on his desk, and in a terrible rush, the Commander left his office to go and meet up with the Detective. His career and everything he had ever worked for was now on the line.

In a darkened room across town, an agent had his hand up to the left side of his head phones.

“Ma’am….the Commander is on the move. He’s going to go meet Malone at the docks. Should we respond?”

The red hue of a cigarette burning was coming from the corner of the room and a feminine voice responded. “I think its time to bring the curtain down on the Commander. He just reached his use by date.”

Pushing herself up out from her chair, she snapped her fingers at her assistant – a dark skinned man wearing a black suit. He slipped on a pair of dark glasses and fell in behind the woman in red. It was zero hour.

4.00pm

Pulling open the warehouse door, a faint light could be seen inside the empty space within the warehouse. Stepping in with his gun drawn, Frank looked about for signs of life. There was nothing but the faint drip of what he thought was water. Had the Commander even shown up? Going in a bit further, he could just make out the outline of what looked to be the Commander seated at a table in the middle of the building. He was just…staring into space. Frank re holstered his firearm and then headed closer towards the Commander.

“It’s a shame it had to come to this…..”

The Commander didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He had a bullet hole in his forehead – his nose drenced in blood and the slow dripping of crimson onto the table in front of him.

The Commander was dead.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nhal: “A shame? No, I don’t really think it is. If anything I think it’s just one of many inevitible truths.” Bols stepped out of seemingly nowhere, almost as if he was spawned from the shadows themselves. He slowly paced his way through the open space, his shoes clicking against the ground loudly as he walked up behind the Detective. He crossed his arms and shook his head slightly as he paced up next to him. “And you know, I really am sorry, but there is one more truth im going to have to show you… A truth I dont think your going to enjoy.” Stepping around the body, Bols tucked his hand into his jacket and removed a small vial of dark blue liquid which he held up in front of his face, peering through the glass with one eye.

“Nobody enjoys the beginning, but the end?… Oh man that part is a whole lot worse…” With a gentle toss into the air he flipped the vial around in the air and caught it in his other hand, dropping it into his sleeve and then dropping his arms to his sides with a soft shrug. “So what will it be Detective? Are you going to take an offer of peace and prosperity? Or will you be put through a hell of running in circles for the rest of your life? You have five seconds to decide.”

Raising his hands out to his sides he gave a soft smirk towards the young detective. His own mischievous grin upon his face causeing him to look far less serious than his voice led him to believe. “Choose, now… Five…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Razorbackwriter: Who was this strange man that appeared right as Frank was saying what he thought was a sad kind of greeting to the very dead Commander. It stopped the detective in his tracks and the package that had been kept tightly under his arm slipped and fell to the ground – scattering across the dirty warehouse floor. The sounds of his shoes, as he passed around the body of the Commander and his almost sarcastic tone was enough to make the Detective wonder if it was the man that had done the killing. Normally, an assassin doesn’t dance around his victim and taunt a police detective in the process.

“Who are you?” Obvious question is obvious. Not that the man would divulge such a thing. He was too busy speaking in riddles. He kept speaking about inevitable truths, something that had been lacking in Frank’s world up till now. The Detective was about to reach for his gun, when the man produced a blue vial and tossed it into the air, catching it with his other hand. It didn’t take all of Frank’s detective skills to work out that the vial spelt trouble. But why did he flaunt this, instead of a gun? Surely if he had killed the Commander, he would turn a gun on him. None of this was making any sense.

“I don’t understand what you are talking about? Did you kill the Commander?”

The man was set on a deal of sorts. One that the Detective only had two choices from and under five seconds to make it. HIs eyes showed conflict and confusion. Was his life on the line? He had spent years running in circles. Everything that had led up to this point was all smoke and mirrors. The truth….was on the table…on the floor. Now the Commander was dead, would he ever be free?

“Five…”

“Wait…I don’t understand..”

In a mad panic…Frank blurted the first thing that came natural. “I just want it to end!!!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nhal: Bols stopped with a small shake of his head yet again. “What a dull choice… But I guess you wont have an issue with my own, seeing as you wont remember it.” Raiseing one hand in Frank’s direction he held two fingers and a thumb open towards him, as if displaying a card to the man across from him. “Im going to have to ask you to sit like a good boy.” Snapping his wrist downwards his fingers now pointing towards the floor, the weight in Frank’s body suddenly began to grow exponentially as if he was burdened by heavy stones or steel.

“You see, there has been a unanimous descision to take you and your boss here, and replace you with more… Cooperative buisness partners…” Turning his hand slightly, the weight of Frank’s being continued to grow faster and faster until he could no longer support himself. “Although if it makes you feel any better, its all for a good cause… Trust me.” Bols let off a light smirk before he flicked his opposeing wrist, summoning the vial of liquid to his hand again.

“Hey Volkov, hold onto his head for me will you? we dont need him squirming around or else I might knick something important…” As he finished speaking, a very bulky looking man in a white suite made his way into the warehouse from outside, getting close to Frank he simply gave Bols a grunt and a nod, placing his large hands on either sides of the detective’s head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Razorbackwriter: How was it that this man was able to wield the power over Frank, to have his entire body become heavy as lead. Frank had no choice, he had lost the ability to move freely. Hands and feet swelling and he was finding a rising pain in his chest as he struggled to breath. Frank tried to speak, to voice a protest – but it all came out like a pathetic sounding grunt. His eyes now bulging as though his head was caught in a vice. He wanted to reach out towards this man, who was acting like a showman more than anything. But he simply couldn’t. A look of horror now on his face, as the unknown man said that there had been a unanimous decision for both the Commander and the detective to be replaced. Frank knew that the Commander was on the mobs books, but he never had the chance to prove it. Did this man think the same thing of Frank? Did he even care?

Not by the way he was speaking. Again with a sinister smirk and the showing of the blue vial, the same one that he had spun around on their first meeting.

“Although if it makes you feel any better, its all for a good cause… Trust me.”

How could he trust a man that had his sights set on killing him? Every part of his life was now spinning before his eyes. This was the end. it was not how he envisioned it. He never got the chance to say goodbye to the one person he loved. His son.

A single tear ran down his face, as a large man in white appeared from the shadows and took hold of his head. The only saving grace for Frank now, was that his death would be swift. He closed his eyes….and inwardly prayed to his Lord.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nhal: Flicking his opposing wrist, Bols brought a large syringe from his sleeve, stabbing the tip through the vial in his other hand and began to draw the blue liquid before he dropped the empty vial onto the ground. “Do enjoy your time here, because as short as it will be, it sure as hell wont feel like it.” Casually stepping over the corpse in front of him, Bols swiftly swung his arm and stabbed the needle into Franks neck, injecting the fluid within directly into his blood stream before tossing the apparatus aside. “Now then, the drug will start taking effect in about three minutes, so until then, we get to have a little fun… Volkov, make sure he doesn’t move an inch…”

The enormous man simply gave another grunt and a nod as Bols paced away from Frank’s position, approximately 20 feet in distance. Spinning on his heel he stopped and when he faced his target. “And so, we begin.” Slipping his hands into his opposing sleeves he pulled out two small knives, twisting his arms and his wrists forwards he loosed the blades, sending them spiraling towards Frank and burying them deep into the soft flesh at the joints of his shoulders. “Hit, Fourty points.” His head cocked to the side slightly. “But im sure I can do so very much better…”

Tucking his hands back behind his back he slid them under his vest before bringing them back in front of him and fanning a series of various sized and shaped blades. Tossing his ensemble into the air he began to juggle them in his hands before he suddenly hopped back and lifted his left leg, rapidly kicking at each individual blade and sending them flying towards the target. A blade in the arm, leg, shoulder, stomach, another leg and a shoulder, a hand, a deep graze against the neck, then both the final blades burying themselves in his waist. “Alright, thats much better… Ill call that Three-hundred Fifty points.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Razorbackwriter: This man was like some crazed circus performer with his insane wit and then the actions that were to bring horror and misery to his target of choice – the ill fated detective. It’s one thing to know that you are going to die. It’s another to be tortured beforehand. Without the ability to really scream as his body was now like a massive led weight, his jaw just fell open and the hollowed sound of his rasping breathe would bring a chill to anyone that felt a shred of humanity. The man with the knives clearly didn’t. He was enjoying this so much he was even shouting the scores as his blades made their mark on multiple parts of Frank’s body. A single bullet could have just ended it all, but this was dragging on and on. Blood spurting out of the wounds where the many blades were now buried. The man that held onto Frank’s head would surely have his pristine white suit splattered, but neither man seemed to care.

The drug that had been administered early on, was now starting to slowly take affect. Not that it really mattered. Frank’s mind had now completely snapped and reality was a nightmare that he could not be released from till a blade would puncture either his lungs or his heart. The man was clever enough to avoid striking major organs and arteries to prolong the suffering of the Detective. To fall prey to a sadist was the worst thing imaginable.

Pools of Frank’s blood was now forming on the floor under him and running towards the nearest drain hole. A gurgled sound came from Frank as he started to slip from consciousness due to the severe blood loss.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nhal: “Come on Franky, stay awake… We just have a little longer to play, then we can wrap up here. Volkov, you can let him go… With all the nerves and tendons that Ive severed, theres no way he’s going to be moving anywhere…” The larger man gave his signature nod and grunt, releasing frank and stepping off to the side. Bols’ expression suddenly went serious, his arms moving out to his sides in a T. “Well Frankie, its been fun… But, my associates think its time we end this little dance… And besides, I have some important guests showing up soon, it would be a shame if I missed them…”

Turning his wrist sharply a thin fibre wire began to fly through the air, spiraling around Frank. “I think the term ‘Death by a thousand cuts’ is quite applicable here.” Giving his wrist another flick, a series of blades of varying sizes, styles and lengths began pouring out of his sleeve as if someone had knocked over a box at an old blacksmiths shop. they all stuck to the thread as more and more began to spew forth, surrounding the detective in a near solid wall of iron and steel.

“And this shall be the end… Any last words detective boy?…” Moving his arm to his front, Bols closed his hand, pointing a finger towards Frank as the dozens of different blades all faced in his direction, poised for the killing blow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Razorbackwriter: Time had slowed right down, with everything in front of Frank to be nothing but a horrible blur of sound and sight. Though Bol had drugged the detective so that he would never remember this death, as he lived it – Frank was going through a torturous end. Mercy it seemed was not in Bol’s vocabulary, and so as the blood wept from each and ever blade strike, the detective looked nothing more than a sad mannequin that had taken it’s final bow. It was no longer about pain, it was more about regret. Missed chances, lost days, a pathetic existence. There seemed to be no justice or truth except to say that Frank’s death would end up being as much a mystery as Rory’s had been. And all for what? Would anyone care?

As more cuts were inflicted, the warehouse gave way to another setting entirely. Frank found himself on a jetty facing a boat that was boarding with many other people that had either been murdered or taken away….like Rory. In fact, it was Rory who was waiting for Frank. Still wearing the same suit as he had on the night of his murder, blood stains down his shirt, and gouges in his neck that appeared fresh, Rory extended his hand towards Frank to follow him. The detective looked down at himself, no longer bleeding profusely, but appearing as he had when he first entered the warehouse. His hands trembled as he reached for his friend. United in death?

“Come on, Frank.” Rory urged. The boat was ready to depart. All the others were now on board and staring at the setting sun. They would follow the sun till it reached the end of the earth and then be taken onto their new lives. “I’ve been waiting for you, mate” Rory was smiling now as Frank started to take those last steps…..

“And this shall be the end… Any last words detective boy?…”

The voice was coming from behind him. It was the monster that was delivering the final blow. Frank turned his head slowly in this dreamscape. Rory was now shouting at Frank. “Don’t listen to him…..Stay with me. Join me.” There was a desperation in his voice as though he knew what staying behind meant. A large horn blast from the boat meant it was leaving and Rory jumped on the loading ramp. “Frank!”

“Rory….”

It was to be his last word, as the blades all surrounded him…and delivered the crushing blow. Blood spewing from every point of entry. Frank was dead.

The boat sailed off….without him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

RIP Frank.

“Pinch me please” – GS.

 

Standing outside Jax’s Coffee house, Frank and Isolde come face to face with a real live alien, called Princess Xillia.  It takes an accident for the reality to hit home.

Scene setting : Jax’s Coffee House – Gantz Series

Co-written with Temp and Chor.

 

Temp:  Princess Xillia was in the presence of not only a detective, but also a scientist! Oh how fortune had blessed her! She had watched plenty of different detective and scientific shows that the humans broadcast. These two looked rather normal in comparison to what she had seen on the television, but she had no reason to doubt them. Having her tail very carefully pet by the man, whom was named Frank, was rather nice despite it being embarrassing. The woman, named Isolde, didn’t seem interested in it. She did seem kind of interested in Xillia as a being though. Reading their minds wouldn’t be very difficult, but she had decided she wouldn’t do that unless necessary. Regardless, she was curious as to what they thought about her. Whatever thoughts she had about these two humans was cast aside as a vehicle turned the nearby corner extremely fast and actually plowed right into Xillia. Instead of making contact with Xillia’s body, the car simply crumpled entirely in it’s front against an invisible force around her. The human inside was protected from any harm thanks to her actions. Her head slowly turned to examine the wreck and the man within the vehicle. “Please be more careful, you could have hurt someone.” Everyone around her was shocked to say the least. Announcing that she was an alien hadn’t exactly convinced a lot of people, but watching this twelve foot tall fuzzy lady be completely unaffected by a car crash would change that. As far as anyone could tell, the car literally stopped from crashing into her by apparently nothing, and was bound to change some peoples minds. Regardless, her attention turned back to Frank and Isolde. “Mr. Detective, I believe that man should be disciplined…though, please don’t be too hard on him.” How would these two humans react to this?

 

Razorbackwriter:  Frank guffawed at the manner in which Isolde introduced herself. “you haven’t tried to kill me so I’ll be civil”. The was the most unlikely thing he ever thought he would hear coming out of the girl’s mouth. Frank’s face was beet red and he slapped his cheek; once he had let go of the strange and ridiculously tall cat girl’s tail. For some reason, the song “Getting to know you” was tra la la-ing through his head and the comedy of it all just made him smile like a loon. Maybe Frank needed to laugh more often, since his days of depression meant he found very little to laugh about. The detective was about to give her a playful nudge, when the sudden sound of squealing tires and screaming had him pull his hand away and jump backwards, as a car which turned the corner at high speed, ploughed into Xillia.

Now, the first thing Frank did was wince and close his eyes. His body contorting as though bracing for the impact. But….there was no impact. Only the sound of the whole front of the car disintegrating, as though it had hit an invisible force field. The windscreen shattered – air bags inflated with a massive ~BANG BANG BANG~ The air was charged with the hiss of water pipes bursting, and in the midst of this, the overly tall cat girl was calmly telling the shocked driver that he should have been more careful.

“I err…what….the…fuck….just happened?!” Frank exclaimed loudly, as he came out of the crash position and stood tall once more. The detective’s gums were flapping as he struggled to get the next few words out. He kept looking at the car….then the driver, then back at Xillia, who was now giving some advice.

“Mr. Detective, I believe that man should be disciplined…though, please don’t be too hard on him.”

“Er….uhm….how did you? Wait. You said you were an alien. You did.” Frank was at a total loss. His hands gesturing to the car, then her. The driver looked to stunned to move. Maybe it was the fact he was hit so hard in the face by the air bag.“Isa, pinch me please.”

Poor Frank thought he was still asleep. This all had to be a dream. A car just doesn’t hit invisible force fields. Not in New York.

~RB~

 

Chor:  Isolde’s mind running in nearly a million different directions. What could this mean for today’s world? The news of extraterrestrial life would shatter nations; this was war-causing information. People think nonchalantly about alien life forms, but never imagine the idea of its effects on the Earth as they know it. Suddenly, a car hydroplaned or something, because the sound of squaling tired reached Isa’s ears painfully just as she rejoined the group conversation. The car, which had to be doing at least forty-five miles per hour in a twenty, was plummeting straight towards the small group. There were screams as people moved away, but Isolde could only stare. Could she have gone through all this now to be killed by the city’s worst driver? Her eyes instinctively closed as a flinch forced her body rigid, but to her surprise, she felt nothing. No weight, no pain; not a single thing. Was she dead then? Only after openign her eyes did she realize that the car had not even reached her. It was stopped dead in its tracks…and definitely totaled, by this…woman. What a feat; and she wasn’t even fazed.

When she certainly isn’t human. It’s genetically and now…absolutely not possible. No human could take that much force at that speed and still be alive to talk about it,” Isolde stated bluntly. This truly was an alien; and the poor thing was oncerned about the man in the car’s well-being and what might happen to him. How funny the term “We come in peace” is when watching this play out. She clearly could obliterate any one of them easily, yet chooses to protect, like she has some sort of affection or connection toward them. It’s childish, almost. Isolde turned to Frank with a grin, like a little girl on Christmas.

Trust me, you’re awake.

 

Temp:  These humans certainly did have some interesting reactions, especially to things they didn’t quite understand. It was becoming more and more clear that the concept of alien life, despite being popular in human culture, was something that not many took seriously. Both Frank and Isolde seemed to be shocked, but it wasn’t until she did something outside of human capability. It seemed that seeing was believing was the best way to approach the human race. Still, the shocked reactions were rather nice to see. “If you would like further proof, you may…examine me.” If for whatever reason they thought she was some kind of actor, they would be surprised even further should they choose to examine her. Her long gown covered her feet entirely, but if they decided to lift it and look, they’d find her feet to have patches of silver scales, as well as see that her legs were very real. She felt determined to prove to them that she was not from this world. While she waited for their words, her tail wiggled and bounced about behind her, catching the attention of some children from the nearby crowd. She honestly didn’t even notice them playing with it, as her attention was focused on Frank and Isolde.

 

Razorbackwriter:  So, this wasn’t a dream. The big..fluffy tailed girl just stopped the car with her alien force field. Had it not been for her, they would all be dead. Nothing but chalk lines on the pavement. Isa’s pinch hurt. Yes, he felt it. But now the realization of what stood before them brought about a wave of unease. Not because of what the girl had done, but how the authorities and the media would react. Frank already knew what it was like to be scrutinized over what was a bizarre and deadly attack against Rory, his partner. How on earth would the department react to this….let alone the Commander.

The Detective felt a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Movies like ET and Close encounters of the third kind, came to mind. The government would whisk this very friendly cat girl off to some secret base in the desert and do horrible tests on her. Frank chewed on his lip for a moment as he considered what they needed to do to protect this girl…not only from the authorities, but also from herself. He held up his finger to the girl as if to interrupt her after she had offered to be examined.

“Oh…no no. Don’t need anymore of that. Would you mind if I just conferred with my colleague for a moment please?”Frank showed a polite smile, as he took Isa’s arm and tried to turn her away from the cat girl for just a minute to let her know how he felt.

In a quiet voice he said. “Okay…you and I both know what happens to aliens in this country. Real…or not. We can’t let that happen to her. She might have answers about the thing that took Rory.” He leaned in close, but not before looking back at cat girl and showing a smile. “Heh, be right with you.”

“Should we take her to Elissa’s and then get their take on it, before finding a safe house?”

It was the best he could come up with.

~RB~

 

Chor:  

Despite the scientific personality happily taking over Isa, Frank looked sick. Her compulsion to agree with the extraterrestrial shorted, which was something that has not happened in years, and she looked at her companion with concern. He completely pushed off the suggestion for an examination, much to Isolde’s extreme disappointment. What? It’s not like she was going to dissect her! Isolde became aware of the hand on her arm and then looked up at Frank. What came out of his mouth sounded a little bit…frantic and crazy to her, but it had a sense of truth in it. Frank might have seen a but too much televised alien encounter stories, but for certain were this being found, she may not see day again. It would be a pity for such a creature to disappear, considering her royal status. This alone could start an intergalactic war, one which the Earth could not possibly fight with the limited to nonexistent knowledge of life in space.

I do suppose that’s a viable solution for the moment,” Isolde agreed, biting her lip gently. The look on her face was evidence to the cogs trning in her head. She looked over to the being and then back at Frank.

Do you imagine she’ll fit in my car?” she questioned him, not sure if it would be the case. The car wasn’t tiny, just your standardfront wheel drive V6, but this creature was exceptionally tall, and the comfortably level concerning her tail in the backseat was also a problem. They could certainly try, though the car being at the police stations parking garage was another problem. Downtown people sort of overlook silly things like this, save maybe the car crash. Press, however, grows hungrily in the cracks in the sidewalk otuside the station. They take notice to jsut about anything.  

 

Temp:  Xillia was actually very confused as to what Joel and Isolde were talking about. There were talks of her being taken away and finding a place for her to hide, none of which made sense to her. “There is no need to worry about me.” If Xillia felt for a moment that coming to Earth would put her in any danger, she wouldn’t have arrived in such a flashy way. If these two humans insisted that she come with them, then she would agree to go with them. Still, she didn’t feel that she was in any immediate danger.“Would you like me to take us all somewhere? There’s no need for a vehicle.”Teleportation was something she was able to do, so long as she had an image of the desired location. Tapping into either Isolde or Franks mind to get the image of said location was also something she could do, thankfully.

 

 

Princess Kitty – GS.

 

Frank had always thought of the possibilities of an alien race that was terrorizing the planet.  Like the one that took Rory that fateful night.  He had no idea that aliens had fluffy tails.

Scene setting : Outside Jax’s Coffee House.

Co-written with Temp and Chor.

 

Razorbackwriter:  For a detective, Frank was pretty clueless – especially when Isa slipped some money into his jacket to help pay for her meal. Being a gentleman, Frank believed that it was only right that he should pay the cheque – even if his salary was barely covering his expenses. Ambling out the door, he happened to hear Isa mention that she had a car. Well that was a relief. Not having to hail yet another cab to Elissa’s place was going to save him a few dollars. Also, he often hated the back seats of New York cabs. You never really knew what you were going to be sitting on. Showing a smile, Frank was all too ready to head for her car, when the oddest looking woman – if you could call her that, approached them and greeted them both in a way that made you think she was from way out of town.

“Hello humans! Your planet is wonderful!”

Now Frank was used to seeing oddities in the city. Why, go to Broadway and you see some amazing costumes and special effects when producers are promoting their plays or musicals. So…when Frank heard the ever so tall kitten girl say“Hello Humans.”, Frank naturally thought it was an act.

“Ahaha. Wow, are you from an off Broadway production? I gotta say, that tail looks so realistic. Kudos to your wardrobe department. I’ll take a flyer if you have one.”

Totally clueless.

Frank nudged Isa and said. “Do you want to pull her tail as much as I do?”

~RB~

 

Chor:  Isolde watched Frank’s expression, seeing his interest in the fact that she did have a functioning vehicle, and thanked past Isa for having that smart idea. Honestly, Isolde has spent a ton of money driving her own car around. In the city you don’t need to go far and if you do, there’s always a train. Suddenly, their space was invaded by honestly the creepiest thing Isolde had ever laid eyes on…and she’d seen things; things not many could stomach.

I…

There were no words, Isolde was left speechless, looking this…person? up and down. The tail really made it, though. Isodle barely heard what Frank was saying until he nudged her. She looked up at him, mouth agape like she couldn’t believe her eyes. Knowing full well the human body, she could see that this was something either very strange or maybe…maybe today has been a dream?

“What are you?” she whispered, brows furrowed. Isa felt uneasy, sick even. The world spun and she took hold of Frank’s hand to steady herself. Was this happening? Was Frank really seeing it, too?

 

Temp:  “Broadway?” The name sounded very familiar to her. Whatever it was, it was probably mentioned in some movie that took place in this city. The man thought her to be part of whatever this ‘Broadway’ thing was, but she wasn’t sure how to best respond since she didn’t know what the hell it even was. “I’m not from this ‘Broadway’, but from Vasari…and I’ve come to visit you Humans.” Hopefully she wouldn’t cause any insult towards ‘Broadway’. Offending the Humans wasn’t something that she was hoping to accomplish. “I am Princess Xillia, and I hope to learn a great deal from you all.” She spoke softly and bowed towards the two humans, despite the clear ‘disgust’ that she sensed from the female. Why exactly the female looked at her and brewed such negative emotions was unknown to her, but it was upsetting nonetheless. Perhaps it had to do with her tail that they both seemed fixated on? “I…do you…desire to feel my tail?” She brought her tail forward and held it in front of her, then stepped a bit closer to the two humans with a nervous look on her face. Would letting them examine her tail make them feel better? Perhaps the male, but the female really didn’t seem to like her…sadly.

 

Razorbackwriter:  Frank cocked his head to the right. His brow creasing and yet he still had a crooked smile when the woman claimed not to be from Broadway, but a place called Vasari. And then….the kicker.

“…and I’ve come to visit you Humans.”

The detective blinked at this admission. The girl with the fluffy tail believed herself not to be human and that she was visiting. ~Right~ Now, Frank had met many that claimed to be all sorts of things in lock up; but none of them had a tail. Delusions brought about by drugs was common place, yet as Isa and Frank stood there, the cat girl if you could call her that went on to say that she was a Princess named Xillia and she hoped to learn from them. Not wanting to alarm the cat girl or make her panic with any sudden moves, Frank slowly turned his head toward Isa and then acted as this was all perfectly normal.

“We are in the company of royalty. In New York no less.”

Isa would be able to tell by his tone that he was being sarcastic, but in the same vein – polite. This girl needed to be treated carefully, if she was an escapee from a local mental institution. He was now considering taking her down town to see if they could find out her true identity, but that was the moment she offered her tail for a pat.

Frank glanced at the fluffy tail. It looked so soft. At that point, Frank glanced up and saw the nervousness in her face. The girl was frightened. The detective knew he had to treat her carefully. Moving ever slowly, he reached forward and then with the utmost care, stroked her tail. It was incredibly soft, and fluffy.

“Wow. Softer than minx.” Frank gave Isa a nudge. “Don’t be shy. Just…curtsy and have a feel.” He remembered the girl was royalty and he remembered his manners.

“I’m Detective Malone….Frank Malone.” The Detective bowed slightly, assuming it was the done thing. “And this is Isolde, she’s a scientist.”

Here was Frank, making introductions to an alien. If only he knew the truth.

~RB~

 

Chor:  There is nothing whatsoever weird about this meeting. Not at all. The sarcastic remark passed through her head after Frank spoke about this…woman being royalty. She had said she was a Princess, but from a place Isa had never heard of. Clearly this girl thought herself an alien…and boy did she look the part. Frank’s idea about a play or musical was a good one, but a convention is what came to Isolde’s mind. Suddenly, Frank suggested she curtsy. Was he mad? She looked incredulously at him, but when he nudged her, wrinkled her nose indignantly before displaying the most respectful curtsy she could manage in shorts that ever-threatened mutiny. When urged to pet the tail, Isa decided aginst it. If she began, it would not end there. Likely she would attempt to examine the creature completely. One thought plagued her mind continuously. Was the extended vertebrae protruding from the pelvis? Was this a real tail or some plastic, ‘furry’ illusion for good fun. Roleplaying was something people took very seriously…Frank only introduced her as a scientist, which was half correct, but it would suffice. She nodded curtly.

Hallo; Isolde vonGoethe,” she spoke aloud, mouth forming what one might call a friendly smile but mostly looked like ‘I don’t know you, but you haven’t tried to kill me so I’ll be civil’.

“Hello Humans!” – GS.

 

https://i0.wp.com/i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc86/VergilX_X/Female%20Characters/0bcfb7d1-f6b1-4036-8d76-6fea98fcf2c5.jpg

With breakfast almost done, Frank and Isolde are about to make a move.  What is waiting for them out on the street?  Oh, you’ll never believe it.

Scene setting : Jax’s Coffee House

Co-written with Chor and Temp.

 

Chor:  Isolde felt a sort of release as she talked about herself. These were things even Khalil barely knew, which showed just how private and alone she kept. At the mention of the horse-back riding, a huge grin found itself to Frank’s lips, surprising Isa. What had she said? He spoke then, about his grandparents and their horse farm.

Her Aunt Scherze had a few horses, mostly unbroken save for Doof. Her aunt named the horse because it was clearly suffering from some sort of mental disorder, but it was the gentlest horse there and during her vacations to Germany Isa loved to ride the red roan appaloosa filly on cool Sunday mornings before Gran would drag them off to church, always complaining that Isolde smelled of manure. When Isa was eleven, she received a call saying that Doof had passed away. His brain had been riddled with cancer for many years and they thought it best to put him down rather than let him suffer any longer.

Isolde put food in her mouth so Frank didn’t seem like the only one eating. Really she was deep in thought until he spoke again, having finished his meal. She looked down to her half-eaten plate and back up, grinning. Her? A catch? The idea of it made her want to laugh, but she didn’t. A light blush had come over her cheeks and she pretended to wipe her bare lips to cover it.

I would propose then…that you tie together all of these hideous hooded sweatshirts. T’would make a better net than a wardrobe in my opinion,” Isolde shot back to him, listening to him laugh at his little joke. She had not let it die liek he had probably intended. Finishing her meal in a couple more bites, Isolde went to her coffee, sipping it cautiously as it was still the slightest bit hot.

 

Razorbackwriter:  “Perhaps I could tie together the hoodies, but I can tell that you aren’t overly keen on them. Be more of a deterrent if anything.” This was said with absolute honesty. Why Frank even kept that box in the closet was a mystery, but he wasn’t one that tended to throw things away. Like his marriage. His behavior didn’t help him there, but if he had the chance all over Frank may have done things differently. Though, it was one way of finding out what his ex was truly like. It is the rough patches in marriage that test our love. If the foundation is weak to start with, it has no chance of lasting. Isa thankfully played along with Frank’s banter which only helped to create a more relaxing breakfast – from what had earlier been something out of a Jackass movie. You would honestly have to wonder if Frank knew anything about women at all by the way he acted. The real reason was more caution if anything. He wasn’t a player like Tommy. Frank was more one for keeps, if you could put up with his God awful puns and strange habits. The Frank that sat opposite Isa was a far cry from his youth. The young forensics officer might be surprised to know that back in the day Frank was a real risk taker and something of a rebel. How times and events shape and mold us.

Now that the pair were onto their coffee, the meals having being eaten; Frank took out his wallet and placed out a few notes to pay for their breakfast. He wouldn’t accept Isa paying her share, since he believed a man should pay for the woman when dining out.

Stuffing his wallet back into his jacket, Frank mused on what Tommy was up to. No call back. The detective hoped he was okay. Elissa too. Maybe they should pay her a visit, to check on her shoulder.

“Fancy going over to El’s?”

Course Isa would know he meant Elissa. Frank still felt terribly responsible for her injuries. The girl didn’t deserve what happened.

~RB~

 

Chor:  
Isolde laughed at his reply to her suggestion.

Ja, I’d likely asphyxiate on the fabric from being surrounded by such hideously over-bright colours,” she replied, still chuckling as she took one last sip from her coffee. As he placed the money for the check, Isa frowned. He’s already spent an awful lot on her and she can tell he’s suffering from some financial hardship, so while she is not it feels wrong to let him pay.

That sounds fine to me,” Elissa said with a shrug, but also looking down at how guilty her outfit would look. Actually? Fuck it; she doesn’t live for what anyone else thinks. She gestured for them to go with a smile as the waitress cleaned their table behind them. As they walked out, she secretly slipped enough cash in bills to cover her meal cost into his pocket. You learn all sorts of things living in the city. Suddenly, as if a cloud had lifted, a thought came to Isa. How in hell could she have forgotten?

You know I’ve got a car, right?” she asked him, wondering. She bought the car immediately after school and has had it ever since. It was currently sitting in the parking garage near the station. They needn’t take a cab everywhere. She didn’t really mind it, but it would certainly save some cash in their wallets from the stingy cabbies of New York.

 

Temp:  Xillia had moved from Times Square, venturing further into the city completely aimlessly. There wasn’t much that she wanted to do at the moment other than explore her surroundings. Studying the humans that inhabited the planet would be something she did along the way. There would likely be all sorts of different opportunities to do so, considering how many of them there were. She had already managed to gather quite a crowd, most of which was continuing to follow her through the streets.

Eventually she wound up in an area she’d never really seen before. The only references to places she had were things from movies and pictures, which she had acquired on her home world. Even though she was lost, she really hadn’t decided on any one destination, so it meant little to her. What did meant a lot to her was greeting every human she saw. Being such a tall creature had it’s advantages, especially when you were looking for things smaller than you. She spotted two humans near what seemed to be a restaurant, which she then started to walk towards. As soon as she was close to the two, she offered them both a happy wave and a bright smile.“Hello humans! Your planet is wonderful!” Was that the kind of compliment that would appeal to them? Who knows.

 

What is love? – GS.

Tattoos that tell a story.  Frank learns more about his friend, Isolde.

Scene setting :  Jax’s Coffee House – GS.

Co-written with Chor.

Chor: Isolde nodded her head, thinking of low, low times in her life. Isolde just happened to be in the right place at the right time to save Frank, but Isolde had no one but Khalil, who practically dragged the ambulance to her apartment. The kid knew she wasn’t right and he saw where she was headed, but if he had been just ten minutes later, it would have been too late. His hand came to rest over hers and she looked at it, goosebumps crawling up her sleeved arm , over her clavicle and up her neck, where the baby hairs in the back raised. His thumb caressed her hand as he took it into his. She focused a bit, making sure he didn’t flip the hand over; view the wrist. Suddenly, he withdrew, and she looked up at the waitress, blinking.

Finally, her meal arrived and she pulled her napkin into her lap; wouldn’t want to ruin such lovely shorts with a blackberry stain. Frank’s meal had not yet arrived and she refused to eat, despite his urgings about it ‘getting cold’. Patience is a virtue. Her mother would have rolled in her grave if she’d begun eating. The thought made her grin. She poured a little cream in her coffee, then a literal ton of sugar. She liked coffee’s effects, but not the taste. She drank a lot of coffee as a youngster, but only because her family couldn’t afford it for years until the market went down, so then they drank it religiously.

In my family, we do not eat until everyone has been served,” she said politely, not wanting to make Frank upset because clearly he was just trying to make her happy. Isa appreciated this fully; it was more than anyone else ever tried to do. He mentioned the tattoos then and her face changed. She’d totally forgotten, wrapped up in her outfit of something that wasn’t quite choice.

“Ah, well. If I had a shirt on under this, I’d likely pull this off to show you, but you’ve seen quite a bit of it already,” she said, rubbing her neck, “but it’s a poem in Hebrew:

In the merciful time, at twilight,
Bow your head and I’ll reveal,
the secret of my torments:
They say there is youth in the world-
Where is my youth?

And another secret I will confess:
My soul has been seared by a flame;
They say there is love in the world-
What is love?”

Razorbackwriter:  Watching Isa as she mentioned that in her family it was tradition to wait until all plates were on the table had Frank taken off guard slightly. He honestly thought that he was being polite in asking her to go ahead and start. Thankfully, one of the waitresses brought over Frank’s order – placing the eggs benedict down before him as he whipped a napkin out from under his cutlery and draped it across his lap. Well, I have mine now so..”

Conversation went back onto the strange markings that ran up and down Isa’s legs. She mentioned that had it not been for the fact she was only wearing the hoody as a top, that she could show him the extent of the markings. Truth be told, he got a good eyeful back at the apartment when she was hunting for a towel. Frank toyed with his fork as he listened to the poem, which is what the markings represented in hebrew. This was the first that Frank had ever heard of someone having an entire poem tattooed on their body. Made a change from the usual fare, of flowers, butterflies and ex girlfriend’s names.

Cutting into his toast and then dipping it into the holanaise sauce, Frank nodded as he was deeply impressed. “Must have been hell getting it done.” Frank clearly was not a fan of the tattooist needle. He then popped the toast into his mouth and chewed heartily – thankfully with his mouth closed. Frank had excellent table manners around the ladies. With the guys, well that was another story.

“You know, Tommy Elissa and me were here just the other night. Mhm. We were running on adrenaline, I can tell you.”This was before the shooting….right before. Funny how Frank had ended back there again for breakfast. To be honest, Frank didn’t mind. His cooking left a lot to be desired, plus his pantry was not exactly packed with choice ingredients. Like many it was simply easier and more enjoyable to eat out.

Frank took another mouthful, this time with egg and bacon on his fork. You could tell he had an appetite, but still tried to make interesting conversation. Placing down his cutlery, he reached for his cup of coffee and then took a sip. Amazing how coffee just perked him right up.

“So what do you do…for fun? Away from the lab, I mean.”

And here come the questions.

~RB~

Chor:  Oh, gute,” she said, her ‘gute’ a sort of German-American mixture of the word. Old habits die hard.

Isolde smiled at Frank, lifting her own cutlery to cut her crepe as he settled the napkin upon his lap. The first bite was utter euphoria and Isa’s mouth and stomach reveled that finally she was eating real, delicious, and nutritious food. Truth be told, the last time she’d had crepes was the morning before Claura’s disappearance. She’d sung silly tines their grandmother taught them as she cooked the German crepes and wrapped in them the redcurrant jam. Isolde used to remember that as the last happy day she’d ever have. Of course, who could have predicted that yesterday could have changed her so fully. She took another bite as Frank went on about the tattoo. A shrug moved in her shoulders. It wasn’t painful to her, who has a pretty high pain tolerance; and in fact -though she won’t likely ever admit it- she actually enjoyed it. She felt as if she deserved the pain.

At the mention of Tommy – that must be the reporter- and Elissa – who must be the woman- Isa again wondered if they were alright. Frank really ought to call his friends back. He surprised her then, with a question about what she did outside of the lab. This was going to be an awkward answer, since all she truly did was work in the lab, then take cat naps and eat vending machine food. She should tell him about before her small, abysmal life began.

Well, I’ve really been lacking there lately, but I’m also employed at the American Museum of Natural History in the Forensic Anthropology department. I used to do studies, demonstrations, and tours and all that. Mainly. I did a lot of casework, working on specific bodies we’d get in. I also used to play in the symphony. Strings; cello mostly, but a little violin or viola occasionally. I mean, I’m no master at it, so second seat was pretty exciting for me. Before…I used to ride horses often. There’s something about them that’s so elegant and just altogether they’re just magnificent beasts to interact with.

That was the end of her spiel. She didn’t really do much aside from work after school started. She figured she had to dive head first to pay off her loans, but as soon as that was done she still remained deeply buried into the workplaces. Her friends from school all lived close and they would often meet to hang out, but after Claura she pretty much dropped everything.

Razorbackwriter;  Some of us find it hard to get time to have any kind of life outside our working hours. Frank’s used to revolve around his son, but of course when his ex took him away that left Frank with little to do but drink and spend his waking hours at home studying the wall. The wall being the one in his home office with the trails to nowhere on Rory’s death. Some nights he wouldn’t even sleep. Just sitting in his old leather chair and rock back and forth slowly. His mind going over that night again and again till the first rays of light would filter through to the office. Not much of an existence.

Frank ate heartily as Isa told him all of her life away from work which was a darn sight more interesting then his own story. Nodding at appropriate times and only placing his cutlery down to replace them with his cup of coffee, he was genuinely interested. She was also employed at the American museum of Natural History A role that Frank was sure was of some importance. Is was also into music. Playing the cello – as well as a little violin. Frank smiled at the mention that she was second seat in the symphony, which meant she must be good.

The last part however brought a big smile from Frank, she used to ride horses. Why you might wonder this brought such a reaction was due to the fact it triggered a memory of just how much his ex hated them. Whenever there was a parade and the police horses came along, his ex put on such a performance it was a wonder people didn’t throw down money in front of her. Drama Queen.

“I couldn’t agree more. Majestic and beautiful creatures. I haven’t ridden though since my teens. My parents used to send me out to the Grandparents farm some holidays and that is where I learnt to ride.” Course he couldn’t go near horses after Missy reacted to them so badly. Much to his Grandparents disappointment. He hadn’t been able to go visit with his son, thanks to Missy. How he hated the woman.

Frank placed his cutlery down on his cleaned plate with a clink, before picking up his napkin and dabbing his lips.

“I enjoyed that. You know, you are a very interesting woman, Isa. You’d make quite the catch. If only I had a net.” At this he laughed at his own poor joke. Such a sad sack.

“Enjoying those crepes?”

~RB~

 

 

Old Scars – GS.

Food52 animated GIF

Breakfast is always better when someone else makes it.  Frank and Isa are about to enjoy the delights of Jax’s Coffee house.

Scene setting : Jax’s Coffee House.

Co-written with Chor.

 

Razorbackwriter:  Pulling the door open for Isa, Frank peeked inside to see how bad the crowd was this morning. Thankfully, Jax’s was about half full which meant that they would easily get a table and the wait would not be all that long. Following Isa in, Frank stared down at those white shorts. The tell tale showing of Isa’s panties, which Frank had seen earlier gave the detective reason to smile. He had acted like a total goof when she emerged from the bathroom looking for towels. Thankfully, Frank felt that Isa would have forgotten about all that by now. The welcoming aroma of freshly roasted coffee beans invigorating the senses.

Seeing a table free, Frank ushered Isa towards it and then pulled out a chair for her, just as you would expect a gentleman to do. “This is so much better than sharing a bowl of cornflakes and stale milk at my place.” Waiting for Isa to get comfortable, Frank moved to the opposite side of the table and took a chair, reaching for the menu. He knew one thing. Frank needed a large cup of coffee, and then he would see what took his fancy on the menu.

On the way over, the conversation had been light. Mainly about how his little boy loved to play soccer on Saturdays. Much of the time, Frank was working, so he had missed many of his son’s matches – much to his own disappointment. In all honesty, Frank didn’t feel like he had been a great father to his son. So much of his important milestones had been missed, and all because of the job. It made him wonder if having kids was such a good idea in the first place, but his son was an accident. Do you tell your child such a thing? No. Well, you shouldn’t. Frank tried to hide the sadness of how he missed his little boy, but his ex had made sure that Frank would never get custody or visitation. All Frank had was a handful of photographs, and one small soccer shirt. Maybe one day, when his son was old enough he would seek Frank out. Or would it be too late? Missy had remarried and the guy was a writer with plenty of time at home to be there for Frank’s son. How easy it was to be replaced.

Taking up the menu, Frank held it up and whistled.

“Eggs Benedict. My favorite.” Frank had already made up his mind.

“See anything you fancy?” This was asked as a waitress approached their table, tablet in hand ready to take their order.

~RB~

 

Chor:  Isolde was a little hesitant to enter the restaurant, because just in stepping from the cab she’d already had enough looks – mostly at her backside- for the morning. The woman braved it, though, and allowed Frank to kindly open the door for her to enter. Her escort immediately found them a table and gladly sat down in the chair he’d retrieved. The whole place was aflutter with quiet chatter and Isa caught conversations here and there. She was not really listening in, but when the ebb and flow of the words came like a wave; there was only one conversation left to hear and she couldn’t do anything to stop it. Isa had barely even glanced at the menu, but had mostly made her mind up on the way that she would have waffles.

Be careful what you wish for: I survived my childhood eating muesli every day,” Isa joked, though it was true. In the dark, quiet mornings as her family sat around the worn wooden table eating their typical German breakfast, Isa would have killed for cornflakes. The thought of that made a smile curve her lips. Suddenly, Isa’s eyes caught something on the menu. Crepes. Oh god, that was it. Her waffle-filled morning had come to an end. It would be crepes with black berry jam and she decided this all before Frank even uttered a word. When the waitress appeared, she looked to her with a light smile.

guten Morgen,” she said, then closed her menu and placed it to the side, “I’ll have the crepes, with blackberry jam…or preserves, whichever you’ve got? And coffee; one cream and…well, I suppose if you can bring me the sugar it’ll be easier.

 

Razorbackwriter:  It was nice to listen to Isa speak with that slight accent that Frank had not really picked up on before. Easing back in his chair, as he went over the menu he only lifted his eyes away from it to watch Isa give her over to the barista. “No waffles?’ Frank was a little surprised that Isa had changed her mind so quickly, but obviously she preferred the idea of crepes that morning instead, now that she saw the full range of breakfasts offered on the menu. The waitress took down both their orders and spun on her heel – quickly away to go and get their breakfasts started. Frank had to admit, the service was great. Placing the menu back in the holder, Frank couldn’t help but say something about those white shorts.

“Amazing how you are the same size as my ex. Those shorts are pretty…uhm…”Thankfully he stopped himself before he made a massive gaff. “….nice.” He let out an loud exhale of breathe followed by a smile as he decided to change tact. “You really stuck your neck out for me, you know. The Commander has probably been at the station all night.” The meaning behind this statement was that Commander Bracks was probably destroying her computer files and anything incriminating on it. It was a fair bet that he had people that owed him favors around the office. Some people got promotions that they didn’t earn. Not by performance results, anyways. It was troubling, to say the least.

Remembering his cellphone, he took it out from his pocket and then placed it on the table in front of him. “Tommy messaged me. Sounded mad as fuck.” Frank ticked his head a little to the left, remembering what state he had been in the night before. Frank toyed with the phone for a moment, almost too nervous to call Tommy back.

“I really do owe you one, Isa. You pretty much saved my life.”

Did she understand the gravity of his words? Truth be told though. Frank was not out of the woods yet. There were people out there with objectives. Dishonest and clever people. Frank was a pawn that many wanted seen taken off the board.

~RB~

 

Chor:  Isolde wiggled in her chair. Funny he should mention the shorts; they weren’t the same size, as Isa’s hips definitely did not lie about how these white atrocities were, but enough where she wasn’t bursting at the seams.

Nice isn’t the word I’d use, but ja, they’re…int’resting, to say the least.

The way he said it though, she knew he’d jsut stopped himself from saying something very, very different. The way he attempted to change the subject had her laughing on the inside, then what he said had her truly laughing. Bracks? Do work?

Yeah, that’s not likely. That fat pig probably slept like a baby with his new wife while his dirty lackeys did his job for him…” Isa nearly spat, just thinking about the Commander putting her off a bit. She had a particular bone to pick with that man, and not just because of the situation with Frank or just his shitty human being status in general. There was far more history between the two that Isa hadn’t divulged on yet. She’d hoped she’d never have to, but eventually someone has to know. Especially now that Claura’s files have gone missing. Isolde rubbed her leg where a few symbols could be seen, sighing. So much to do, yet she just wanted to enjoy the happiness she was truly feeling here with Frank. She could only imagine the sight of her office, her lab, maybe even her apartment? At the mention of Frank’s friends, Isa felt guilty for forgetting about them. The poor woman who’d been shot and the other man…the reporter? She hoped they fared well. Isolde was caught off guard by Frank’s words and the utter sincerity of them. Blinking, she looked to his eyes.

I was only doing what I wish someone had done for me,” she said a little sheepishly. Old scars, reminders of those days when she hadn’t had anyone to tell her that it would be okay, burned on her wrists.

 

Razorbackwriter:  Isa’s laughter was infectious and of course the way that she described Commander Bracks had chuckle. Frank would have laughed a bit louder save for the fact that what Isa said was pretty spot on. He was a disgusting pig of a man, and you had to feel sorry for the woman that he went home to at night. There was just something not quite right about the man. Frank couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but Bracks had a sinister streak. The kind of guy that gained pleasure from torturing animals. Just the mental picture of him sleeping as Isa said made Frank shudder. Frank tapped the table twice with his open palm and then said “Enough about him, okay? Wouldn’t want to ruin your breakfast.” Yes, a change in conversation was a top idea and of course when Frank had said that he was grateful for Isa for everything she had done for him, he softened when she said that she was doing what she had hoped someone had done for her.“Really?”

Frank’s brow knitted slightly as he reached across the table to take her hand. He remembered her placing down a white rose as a symbol for the one she lost – Claura. That was her name, Frank thought. Frank’s thumb moved delicately across the top of Isa’s hand as he was about to ask about Claura, when the waitress brought over the crepes with blackberry jam as well as some cutlery. It sure did look good. Frank knew it was time to pull his hand away. “Don’t want it getting cold, now.” A simple nod and he gestured for her to eat as he waited for his meal to be brought out. A cup of coffee was placed down and filled by the barista and he thanked her kindly, before looking back at Isa.

“This is nice.” Frank, the King of small talk. If he could though, Frank could talk underwater when the mood was right. In this instance, the detective was wanting to ensure that Isolde enjoyed her breakfast. He took up his coffee cup and blew on it gently, then took a sip before placing the cup back down in the saucer with a gentle clink.

“You never did tell me about those tattoos.”

~RB~

Little white shorts – GS.

 

Gantz series.

Scene setting : Detective Frank Malone’s apartment.

Co-written with Chor.

 

Chor:  After probably the most enjoyable shower Isa as experienced in awhile, she stepped out of the shower onto the plush rug – which was immediately soaked by her dripping body- and pulled a towel around herself.

Shit,” she whispered. She really was not on her game this morning, as she had also forgotten that the clothes were in Frank’s bedroom. She decided on not bringing further attention to her idiocy and settling at the moment for brushing her teeth. At least three times. Finally, with the stench of the ghost of garlic of nights past gone, she pulled the towel tighter around herself, which was simple on account of there being little for her to actually cover, and opened the door a crack. Frank was in the kitchen and not paying attention. See, Isolde saw her underwear and bra as just articles of clothing, nothing too sexual or important about them. That probably stemmed from being with her sister, who came home in lingerie most mornings. Isolde tiptoed to his room while Frank was turned around and closed the door behind her.

Okay, back of the closet,” Isolde said to herself. She opened the blinded door and peer to the back of the dark space to see a box nearly overflowing with clothing Isa knew could not be Frank’s. She dragged it out with great difficulty on account of how much was actually in it. Oh my god. Isolde nearly snorted when she lifted out the contents. The box was teeming with white shorts and hoodies of every neon colour imaginable and…dear lord they all read “Malone 02” on the back. Soccer mom, how did Isa not guess it. She honestly couldn’t imagine Frank with someone who owned this many pairs of white shorts. Isolde couldn’t imagine how many more pairs the woman had that she was able to leave so many behind. How many monogrammed hoodies can one woman own?

Isolde snapped on her bra and then pulled over it an orange hoodie that didn’t have all the same vibrancy as the others – likely because of multiple washes in city water- sighing, as if the colour burned her eyes. Then came the shorts, through which her underwear were absolutely viewable. Shoving the box back to its hiding place where she hoped to never see it again, Isa exited the room, face slightly wrinkled, cringing like she was wearing some sort of clown suit.

 

Razorbackwriter:  Frank had been toying with his cellphone while trying to come up with an appropriate message to send to Tommy. It was not surprising that the reporter would send him such a text. They had been friends a long time and Tommy could easily pick when Frank was at his lowest. It was one of the things that made their friendship what it was.

Hearing the continual running of the water from the shower, Frank deducted that Isa was really enjoying it. Thankfully they weren’t on rationed water supplies, as that could have put a dampener on her morning ritual. Clothes. Now that was going to be interesting to see. When Frank had placed the large box of his ex’s clothes in the back of his closet, he had completely forgotten what was in it. Trust Missy to leave behind all her soccer hoodies and those numerous pairs of white shorts. It was only when Isa emerged in the pumpkin colored hoody did Frank have that sudden flashback. One thing though, Isa looked amazing in those white shorts. A hell of a lot better than Missy ever did.

Seeing the wrinkled facial expression showing that Isa wasn’t exactly sold on the look she was wearing, Frank tried his darnedest to cheer her up.

“Hey, Isa. You look great!” At least she wasn’t wearing the neon hoody. Those stood out worse than a construction worker on his night shift. Tommy gave a small thumbs up, before reaching for his wallet and keys. His phone was now safely tucked back into his jacket.

“Fancy going to Jax’s coffee house for breakfast. I happen to know they do great waffles.”

Frank was hopeful that Isa would agree to his idea, since it was his favorite place now for coffee – which he badly needed. Realizing he needed to freshen up first, he patted Isa’s arm as he shot past her into the bathroom.

“Give us five minutes, would you?”

In the bathroom, Frank splashed his face with cold water, before patting it dry and then grabbing his tooth brush to brush his teeth. Curry breath and all that.

Re emerging, Frank showed Isa to the door.

“I’ll text Tommy when we get there. Say….do you like soccer?”

 

~RB~

 

Chor:  It was kind of Frank to tell Isolde she looked great, when in reality she knew she looked nearly ridiculous. The shorts were tight beyond belief; how did this woman even have a child with such narrow hips? Isa was swimming in the hoodie however, the fit so loose the only way for her to function her arms was to roll the sleeves to her elbow.

Thanks,” she uttered with a disbelieving nod. Of course, it could be worse…probably? Okay, maybe not. The hot mess that stood listen to Frank mention a little coffee house for breakfast smiled to herself. Two meals in less than 48 hours? This would have to be a new record. They’d better alert the media; write it into the calendar…

Sounds great to me. Can’t say no to waffles.

Isa wouldn’t argue. Waffles happened to be her favorite breakfast food, aside from cheese-eggs, but she could only eat the eggs if she made them. Everyone else seemed to cook them too long or with not enough milk and cream. Thinking about it, Isa reminded herself that she should probably pick up milk and eggs when she got a chance. Maybe even bread. Frank darted past her to use the restroom and she blinked a wide blink, as though she’d gotten whiplash from the fast movement. When he’d emerged, Frank was a new person. Fresh and ready for the day. Jeez, how is it he didn’t even have to try to look handsome? This made Isa’s predicament a little more sour. At the mention of soccer, her jaw dropped with a grin. Really?

Oh, yeah, love it,” she replied sarcastically with a little chuckle as she grabbed her clothes, wadded them into a ball, and followed him out.

 

Detective Klutz – GS.

 

Scene setting:  Detective Frank Malone’s apartment.

co-written with Chor.

 

Razorbackwriter:  The silence of the morning was broken by a strange yelp that came from Frank’s bedroom Rousing slightly at the sound, Frank pushed off the blanket that he had used after spending a night on the couch, and stood up – stretching slightly as he had a bit of a sore back. The rustling from in his room would have to be Isa waking up. Raking back his disheveled hair, Frank started for the bedroom door, only stopping to knock lightly.

“Morning Isa.”

Knowing she had been put to bed in her own clothes, Frank knew that she would probably want to shower and change. “There is a box of clothes in the closet, left behind by my ex wife, if you are looking for something to change into.”

Not wanting to disturb Isa further he added; “I’ll start breakfast, alright?”

Frank continued to stretch his arms and then roll his shoulders as he headed into the kitchen. Opening the fridge, he leaned on the door and sighed at the contents. A carton of milk, a block of cheese that had probably seen better days, and of course left over curry. Isa probably didn’t want another curry, especially for breakfast. Thinking the worst of the situation, Frank then spotted a box of corn flakes in the cupboard and pulled that out, placing it on the counter. It wasn’t going to be much of a breakfast, but it was better than nothing.

~RB~

 

Chor:  Isa was actually startled by Frank’s voice, momentarily running through mazes inside her head.

Morning,” she called back, her normally dark and chocolatey voice creaking as it usually does just after she wakes up. Isolde, still groggy, barely comprehended anything the man said, but did latch onto one phrase. Ex wife. The guilt that had started earlier to build inside her began to melt away. She’d seen the photo of Frank’s son, but didn’t know anything about a wife and honestly hoped she hadn’t just slept in another woman’s bed. Whatever sad, scary wall Frank had built up after Rory’s death is likely what drove her away. Isa knew what that could be like. She no longer had the friends she’d kept from school and even Khalil has distanced himself since Claura’s disappearance.

The rest of Frank’s statement came later, when she’d thought long and hard about last night. Changing sounded fabulous, but a shower sounded infinitely better. Isolde, hoping Frank would not mind, tiptoed in her disheveled state to his bathroom and began to run the water. She was always a scalding hot shower kind of girl. Disrobed save for her undergarments, Isolde turned to find that there was not a single towel in the bathroom. Oy vey. Too tired to really think it through, she pulled her unbuttoned top on haphazardly and went out of the room.

https://i1.wp.com/31.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mcf3ih6zTW1rec9feo1_500.gif
There’s no towels in there,” she said, pointing back to his restroom. The water could be heard running and she looked straight at him, as if she didn’t even notice she was barely clothed. It wasn’t that Isa was immodest, she just didn’t consider clothing to be of much import. This is the body science gave her and though she may mistreat it, she is not ashamed of it. All of the symbols running lines over her body could be seen now as she waited for him to direct her to where she might find a linen closet of sorts…or if he just had a towel somewhere. Her gently malnourished body was not fit, but soft in the places where she still held weight. She didn’t do much exercise, but possessed a petite waist, enough breast to keep people believing she truly was a woman, and child-bearing hips to follow.

 

Razorbackwriter:  Ever seen a startled deer? Or a possum that had been struck by the headlights of an oncoming truck? Well, if you can imagine that, then that was very much the look of surprise that was on Frank’s face when he turned – box of cereal in hand to see Isa in…well…next to nothing. She spoke….she did. Something about towels. It wasn’t registering in Frank’s mind cause at this moment he was too busy oogling at Isa.“Uhmmm…what?”

The sound of the shower running in the background was a clue. A big clue. Frank was supposed to be a detective and yet here he was completely and utterly lost. A few blinks and a rub of his right eye with a closed fist, he finally understood what Isa was trying to convey. There were no towels in the bathroom.

“Towels? Towels…yes, I have towels.” Was he dumb? Frank sure appeared to be that way. Not bothering to look at what he was doing, he let go of the box of cereal that SHOULD have landed on the counter, but instead hit the floor – sending cornflakes flying.

Frank hurried to get to the linen cupboard where he kept a few towels and sheets, pulling the door open so hard he hit himself with it. Again, all due to seeing Isa in a state of undress. ~BANG~ “Owww!” Frank staggered back a bit, clutching the door with one hand. Now with a red welt on his temple, he stepped back and quickly found a couple of towels. Presenting them to Isa whilst trying to keep his eyes up to hers, instead of going lower….where most men seem to like to look.

“They’re clean, I swear.” Yes, they were clean. He only used two towels himself, one was either on the floor, the other in the hamper. These were guest towels. You could tell they were practically new, since he rarely had guests. The next question was obvious. “Need a toothbrush?” Frank was a little sheepish. You’d think he had never had a woman in his apartment before. Truth was, he hadn’t entertained anyone, cept Tommy for the football.

“There is a spare under the vanity.”

At this point, his eyes did betray him as they went to the strange markings that ran up and down her body, and being Frank, he had to ask. “Uhm..what are those marks? Are they some kind of tattoo?”

~RB~

 

Chor:  

Do I Wanna Know?

Isolde’s brows furrowed in utter confusion when Frank started mumbling and bustling about. He was acting so very strange, as if he’s never even seen a woman naked. Unless his song was born via immaculate conception, she highly doubted that to be the truth. The cornflake box fell to the ground with a crack! and Isa jumped a bit. There was cereal littering the floor and Isa bit her lip for just a moment, imagining that was their breakfast. It was quite alright, though. There was plenty to eat in this city.

Yes, towels,” Isa repeated, following him to the closet and watching while he took out the linens she required. They were clean, as he stated, and she gladly took them into her arms. A toothbrush sounded wondrous at the moment, though she hoped he wasn’t suggesting because of her rancid garlic morning breath. That was the only regret from the night previous. It was a good change, however, to find that he respected her. While many a male would take advantage of her state, Frank- it seemed- forced himself to lock onto her eyes. She hadn’t noticed him injure himself, but she saw the redness spreading on his temple. The smallest amount of skin had broken and only a drop of blood had surfaced and immediately dried.

Isolde set her towels at the edge of the sink and opened the medicine cabinet. In it she grabbed the ripped, dirty, and fraying box of butterfly strips and pulled one out. There was the tiniest bit of alcohol in the brown bottle on the topmost shelf and she poured it onto a cottonswab and made her way back to Frank.

I’m sure you know this is going to sting,” she whispered, touching it to his temple. This really wasn’t even necessary. She didn’t like to see him hurt, though, and practicing medicine is about all she does know how to do. With the blood cleaned from his head, she adhered the strip to his temple and used her index finger to gently ensure it stuck. Then, to the fridge, where inside she found a half-full tray of ice cubes and twisted them in two layers of paper towels. It would do as a make-shift ice pack, she supposed. Depositing this item into his hand, she took his hand in hers and dragged it up to his head and held it there only a moment before she went to stand in the middle of the kitchen, scouring the room like a hawk for something. But what?

Aha,” Isolde spoke with a successful grin. The short broom and accompanying dust pan lay in the corner of the room. She bent to retrieve them, then once she’d found herself at the scene of the cereal mess, she bent again to sweep the flakes with the small brush. It was a quick job and when she was done she deposited the last remnants of the corn flake box into the trash and wiped her hands. Time for a shower. He asked about her markings and Isolde was prepared to tell him, but first she needed to make herself presentable.

Tell you in a minute.

Isolde padded lightly back to the bathroom then and closed the door, hopping immediately in the hot shower.  

Razorbackwriter:  It wasn’t the fact that Frank had never seen a woman naked before. He had…many times. The thing was he was not expecting to see Isa parade around in a near naked state. Usually a woman would be more at ease to walk around in just their smalls if they had been intimate. That was not the case. Truth was, Frank respected Isa a great deal and was not the kind of guy to put the hard word on, or take advantage of a lady. Call him old fashioned, or just a guy with high morals; Frank was not your average bloke. This was the reason for his bizarre antics. The dropping of the cereal, the banging of his head on the cupboard door. Had it been Tommy, well things would have been a hell of a lot different.

The pain of hitting his head was subdued by the rise of embarrassment that he was feeling at being such a klutz in Isa’s company. But what surprised him more than anything was how Isa set to fix the damage he had done. Not just to himself but also the mess in the kitchen. He hesitantly touched the sore spot on his temple and saw the small amount of blood that had come from a cut. Frank mumbled that it was nothing, but that didn’t stop Isa from wanting to nurse him – by dabbing his wound with alcohol, then applying the butterfly strips. Just after that, she then fixed an ice pack, which had Frank wonder just how bad he donged himself. “Really…I’m fine.” Course, she knew better and the relief that Frank felt from the pressure of the cold pack was evident by the expression on his face. Having her guide his hand with the ice pack up to his head brought a small smile. If you can’t beat them, join them, the saying goes and Frank went with the programme.

His question however about the strange markings on her sides was answered with a simple statement that she would tell him in a minute, before disappearing into the bathroom and closing the door behind her.

Frank just stood there with his hand pressing the ice pack to his temple. What just happened?

Breakfast was now in the dustbin since he had dropped the box of cereal on the floor. There was nothing else in his fridge that could be considered the makings of a good and healthy breakfast, so Frank decided as soon as Isa was dressed, that he would take her to a decent cafe instead. There was an abundance of places to take her and all in walking distance. Besides, he made a lousy cup of coffee.

The lump on his temple was starting to shrink, thanks to the ice trick and he soon set the ice pack in the sink. Frank reached for a cloth and wiped the damp spot on his head, before taking in the fact he needed to get dressed himself. His hair was a mess and his clothes slept in.

Walking back to the lounge, he noticed his cell phone was flashing on the coffee table. Reaching to pick it up, he saw there were a couple of messages….and one was from Tommy. Playing it back, Frank grimaced. Obviously Tommy was worried about what Frank was doing, or going to do. Course, Isa had saved him from that. Frank thought for a moment. It was still a bit early, and he wasn’t sure if he should message Tommy back or not. God knows what he had gotten up to the night before.

 

~RB~