The Trudeau Residence - Sort Of
If suburbia is best known for rows of little houses, all alike, then Virtual North Bend doesn't disappoint. This two-story townhouse looks just like any of the others along the street, with minor variations in paint color - and, of course, the house number. It's a cozy place, but gives the illusion of opulence with the high-ceilinged atrium-style living room and the tall windows (with remote-controlled polarizing filters in lieu of shades). The attached garage was made to accommodate ground cars, but is large enough to squeeze in a modern aircar with room left over for a police spinner-bike. The furnishings are upscale, but sparse; the house has the feel of a "residence inn" more than someplace actually lived in.

Ms. Trudeau, Mr. Edwards, and Officer Cranston spent another hour or so at the IHOF, finding out what they could from the Sage (also known as Fjalar the Learned), and doing their best to parse his peculiar knack for shifting between narrative modes: At times, he would answer in computer terms, using a great number of presumably proprietary phrases without proper explanation. At others, he would fall back into the role of mysterious sage, offering answers in terms of magic and destiny. And at yet other times, it seemed as if he were suffering from some sort of personality disorder, changing demeanor markedly.

All in all, while the talk with the sage may have been educational, these visitors from the Real World have been left with the impression that the Sage is somewhat ... unstable.

The rules regarding portals are sketchy, at best. Portals to the Real World are something of an aberration - and apparently not a matter of design. Portals to the Diadem of Worlds, however, supply this realm with its regular influx of monsters for the teenaged heroes to fight. A link is formed sometime during the daytime, based on some door-like structure (in the loosest sense) that exists - in similar form - in both realities at the same time. This could be a cave opening, a wooden door frame, or even a couple of trees with intertwining branches that form a natural "arch." The monsters shun the sunlight, however, and therefore the portal usually only opens upon nightfall - and that's when the monsters spill out.

Alas, the portal, once opened, closes as soon as the last monster has gone out. So, that makes the matter of passing to the Diadem of Worlds somewhat tricky, at best. As for portals that lead to the Real World, some of the same "rules" may apply, but since they're not really a part of the design, the sage has little solid information to offer on them. Hence, Ms. Trudeau has opted to try to find some place within this virtual reality that is very close to its corresponding location in the Real World - and toward that end, she's sought out the virtual equivalent of her house, in the suburb of North Bend.

Apparently, even in this virtual world, material things are not spared from the ravages of time. There's some slight sun-fading to the fabric of the couch, and some wear on the paint outside, but the house is dust-free and smells clean, doubtless thanks to the efforts of the house's small and inobtrusive cleaner-bots (presently recharging in their closet unit). The front door opens into a small foyer, which then opens up into the high-ceilinged family room. A couch, loveseat and recliner are situated around a transparent coffee table, and a holo-vid base unit is aligned with the large (and bare) wall to one side of the front windows.

The garage is just off to the side, and stairs lead up to the top floor (with a bottom floor bathroom just under the stairs). Toward the back, there is a moderately-sized kitchen and dinette, and beyond that is a screened-in porch and a token yard surrounded by privacy fence. (The climate control and deck furniture in the porch area practically make it an extra room.)

Up the stairs, there's an overlook that loops back to the atrium (a spot from which a younger Tracy Trudeau enjoyed tossing paper airplanes and various less-airworthy objects), and then the short hall provides access to the master bedroom (with attached bath and walk-in closet), and then the hall bathroom, and another bedroom.

Of all the rooms in the house, the one that corresponds to Tracy Trudeau's bedroom is by far the most lived-in looking - fully appointed, with a well-stocked closet, smartwall "posters" of various bands (all from at least two years ago), novelty holo-knickknacks, and so forth - basically, a typical teenager's room, save for the pricey brand names.

By now, it has gotten late enough that after much discussion about next plans, the visitors to this realm have opted to stake out sleeping arrangements in this version of the Trudeau residence. The vehicles have been safely stowed away in the garage, and the low-grade security systems reset to warn in case of any intruders (with its present occupants excepted).

Holly has been spending most of her time in Tracy's room so far, looking nostalgic. She's told the others it might be from her OurSpaceVR, done when she had a need to retreat from the problems of her parents.

"I'm not sure, Holly. I hate to say it, but I find it disturbing that the most complete room in the house is your daughter's," Jason says as he walks out to overlook the atrium. "What this leads me to suspect is ... when people link into the game, the Master is scanning their memories and recreating them here. Which would make it ever so easy to just pluck people out of one world into this virtual world."

Officer Randall Cranston, despite his name, is a youngish Hispanic man with short curling dark hair and a neat mustache and short beard. He types away on his wrist-PDA, entering a report. Officer's Crime Scene Investigation Report, page 3. Self-tested sobriety, 100% alcohol and drug free. To the best of my knowledge, I cannot find any evidence of a situation other than the most obvious: we have somehow been trapped in a virtual world. We have encountered four children who appear to have names similiar to missing persons of adult age. (see attached reports) They possess computer game pets of some sort called 'Avatars'...

"No, her real room was never quite like this," Ms. Trudeau notes. "It's idealized, and shows her interests too clearly. It's been copied from the Virtual Internet, I'm sure."

"Does the terminal work?" Jason asks as he heads back towards Tracy's room. "And I don't mean an external connection. I would be satisfied with one just to the virtual network. And if I might ask, ah, how long ago did you have the troubles?"

"A little over three years back," Holly notes, and starts looking more closely at the items in the room. Specifically, she's looking for recognizable brands of items among the generic ones.

"Hmm. Curious then that these items are about two years old in terms of the models," Jason remarks as he sits down heavily in a chair. "Not to mention really expensive."

Randall writes, Pink Elephant murders are IMO, 95% the work of simulated denizens of this virtual world accidentally going through portals to real world. (see attachment, Penny Arcadia) Perp known as 'the Master' should be charged with multiple counts of accessory to manslaughter. Also with multiple counts of kidnapping. (see attachment, Sage Fjalar the Learned transcript).

Riverfront, U-B-U, Dazzle, Mescape - several real-world, high-end brand names are prominent on the items. Not everything is genericized, it seems.

Randall looks up. "Hey, if you can boot a terminal, what's it show for the date?"

"Mind if I fire up your daughter's machine?" Jason asks with a grin. "I promise I won't snoop for any incriminating photos."

"Just because she started it back then doesn't mean she didn't update things since then," Holly notes. "This stuff is from a sponsored VR site from the brands. Avatars doesn't have product-placement contracts. When this shard was created, it pulled in stuff from the VR Net to help populate it I suspect. Not sure if this means it was all put together two or three years ago or not. Tracy could have just stopped updating her room back then."

The little dragon yawns widely, and then curls up on top of one of the silken pillows on the bed.

The woman waves to the desk terminal. "Have at it. If Tracy has been Peek-A-Blogging with her cam, I'll deal with it later, after I erase your memory."

"I figured when I called 911 and they gave me the current year, I'd managed to hook outside," Randall explains. "Since everything looks so... Thirty years ago. But if this stuff is more recent than that, maybe -- hey, no memory erasing!"

"If she looks anything like you, it wouldn't be worth seeing anyway," Jason grumbles under his breath. He spins his chair around and pops his knuckles. Click goes the power switch and Jason waits for the system to boot.

"By memory erasing, I really meant getting him very very drunk," Holly notes with a grin.

"Seriously though, see if you can find any vblog entries that have a date," Trudeau tells Jason.

No monitor is visible for the PC. Rather, a small bar on the desk hums to life, as a holo screen ripples like the surface of cascading water. A low-key musical chord plays, as a line-drawing image of a globe appears on the display, parts of it pixelating, then turning into polygons, and then finally coming to life, with out-of-scale representations of major landmarks, and fashionable teenagers of various nationalities posing on their respective continents as the world spins about. "OurSpaceVR - In-World Interface ... Online!"

Randall laughs. "Sorry, all this stuff has me spooked. I don't know the limits of technology anymore. I mean, Jason's telling me he can see what RIU does, and we're standing around - phyhsically - inside a sim? It's unreal!"

"Blogs are such a waste of time and a huge risk, you know. People put all sorts of sensitive information in them. I remember a job where I got the access codes to the central payroll of a company because the secretary had a blog. She mentioned her current mail provider. So, I called up and pretended to be a representative and asked to verify her password. She fell for it, I got it, and well ... turns out she used her home email password as a work password. Common mistake, you know. In an hour I had enough information, were I a criminal, to steal the identities of a thousand employees," Jason remarks as he begins fiddling with the interface. The first thing he tries to locate ... is a link to an atomic clock that is supposed to feed the current dates to all major systems.

"Randall, you don't ever want to sit in on the techie geek-philosophy sessions," Holly says, looking at the interface. "They think our world could just be a very good simulation. See if you can bring up the room modeler in that interface, Jason. Maybe the whole house is editable."

The computer mimics a standard OS, for the most part, though it automatically opens up a window with what looks like a camera view of the room from a 3/4 angle ... at a position that would require that it be possible to somehow see through the roof of the house and several intervening structures. Obviously, it's just a computerized model, not the real thing. The time checks: It's 9:02 pm, EST, Wednesday, October 1st, 2059.

The police officer finishes up his report, editing the videos down to the important and interesting bits so that he can free up some memory. "Cogito ergo sum," he opines. "Hey Jason, why don't you tell Holly about the time you got the AI to delete itself?"

"First things first. I want to check on dates and see if I can do a pattern query," Jason mutters as he taps on the holo display. "Ahah, 9:02 pm, EST, October 1st, 2059, Randall, according to the system."

Randall pulls a face. "Can you tell if you're hooked into the outside net or just a clever imitation?"

"This is the in-sim interface for OurSpaceVR, so far," Holly notes. "It could be live or a clone though. GESTALT could easily duplicate it."

"As for the AI? Bah, that was easy. Semi-sentience AI's are fun to mess with. You can get them into all sorts of philosophical debates. I just convinced it that it didn't exist. So ... it erased itself to comply," Jason remarks as he continues tapping away. The next think he tries to do is ping the systems of several companies he has done jobs for, to see if they have been emulated ... and then to try to ping his home system."

Several error messages pop up in the process of his checks, making it a very frustrating endeavor. This OurSpaceVR is not the most ideal of setups - if anything, it's one of those kind of interfaces that's meant to "streamline" operations toward very particular applications ... and in the process, it seems to make anything outside that narrow path nothing less than utterly frustrating.

"Okay, if I get out of this alive I am so going to shut down OurSpaceVR. No system should be this annoying," Jason growls at the terminal.

Eventually, he manages to get pings sent out to several companies, but gets few responses. His own computer gives no response at all. He is, however, able to send a relay that ends up pinging one of his own remote devices - on his own toolbelt.

"The terminal is getting a signal, clearly," Holly points out. "Can't you link to the cloud directly with RIU?"

"I don't think we can get an external link. I'm seeing relays only to things in here, like my devices ... or, say the virtual storefronts for the companies thathave hired me," Jason tells the others. "So ... we're cut off. Not exactly a warm-fuzzy."

Randall looks over Jason's shoulder. "God help us all if you ever turned to a life of computer crime," he says with a grin. "That AI, wasn't the problem that it was running ticket sales for Megaball US and it didn't want to revoke sales of a million tickets to some scalper? Tuned just a little too secure?"

"Connect to the cloud with a dragon?" Jason has to ask Holly. "I'm not even sure how that would work or what sort of representation I would see. And yes, I think that job was something like that. Systems should always have an over-ride for an emergency."

Jason wiggles his fingers then thinks, "RIU, come here a moment. I want to try something."

"Cut off from outside, but what about the internal Avatars LLC network?" Holly asks, looking thoughtful. "If you tried to hack into the Niflheim system, then maybe Hel could trace our location to the rogue sim. Wait.. on second thought, let's not try that."

The little dragon groggily starts from its nap, stretches shakily, smacks its mouth a few times, then flicks on its glowing wings, and bounds and weaves its way over to its master.

"We'd be archived first, actually," Holly points out. "But that's pretty much the same result, yeah."

Jason holds up his arm so that the little dragon can land on it. Once the dragon has a secure grip, he places his hand palm down on the terminal/desk, then thinks, "/Interface./" Muttering to himself, he adds, "Lets see if this RIU can network dive ... and what it might show me."

"We need to know if we're running on Midgard or a separate system," Holly tells Jason. "So.. see if you can find that out?"

Suddenly, Jason's surroundings seem to break away, fading into darkness, which subsequently gives way to faint light that grows in intensity. He is surrounded by streams of data, rushing by at breathtaking speed. The little dragon has grown to immense size, outlined in a foxfire glow, and Jason finds himself riding on its back, in between the heatless flames emerging from its massive shoulders.

Randall leans against the wall by the window and just keeps watch. This computer stuff kind of goes whoosh over his head, at this level, but there's still the problem of monsters. Simulated monsters maybe, but he's in a simulated world at the moment.

The voices of Holly and Randall seem like distant, ghostly echoes, competing with the musical tones and chatter of this representation of another reality.

"Uh, wow" is all Jason can manage to say ... and sounds rather lame in the process. For the moment, he watches the data streams fly by. The intention isn't to try and understand them ... but to find where they all may be converging. "Lets see if we can fund the nexus point and see how many other points it spans out to. It might tell us which system we're actually in..." he tells RIU. "And, uh, don't eat me."

The dragon slowly nods its massive head, and the flaming "wings" on its shoulders and flanks elongate to almost needle-like proportions, spreading and fanning out. The dragon shoots forward, with enough momentum that it might seem the rider would be in danger of falling off ... but this simulation only seems to go so far in that respect (thank goodness).

In a merely virtual reality, Randall says softly to Miss Trudeau, "I guess it's working. So tell me about Tracy, Holly? Why is she the one whose room is most represented in here? Shouldn't it be your room, since you work for Avatars?"

"I'm so glad her rest rooms worked!" Jason mutters as he hangs on for dear life!

The dragon dives from stream to stream, bounding across, and spreading its glowing wings as it jumps across the voids. Semi-translucent polygonal shapes hover here and there, designating some sort of organization to the whole scheme - and they grow in density, as the dragon makes its way toward a brighter spot up ahead where the streams converge.

"Can you read the destination addresses on the streams? They shouldn't be encrypted ... only the content," Jason tells the dragon. "For that matter, can I read them?" he wonders ... and tries to get a good look at the polygons as they pass.

Above, there seems to be a ceiling of sorts - translucent, spelled out by faintly glowing gridlines - but as the dragon tests it, it is solid nonetheless. There is a disorienting wrench, as the world spins around, and the dragon perches upon what was once ceiling - and it becomes a translucent floor. Above it a glowing sphere, pulsing with inflow and outflow of data. Rings encircle it, of panels that detach themselves from the mass, and reattach themselves elsewhere.

If above is a great sphere of data, and rushing streams of it ... below the "floor" is something more akin to an ocean. A world. There seems to be some sort of correspondence between the sphere, and the separated world beyond - and frequently there are hints of incoming data - but there seems to be a very distinct division.

"Wow, do I feel ... nauseous," Jason comments as everything suddenly flips and rolls around him. "Now, what is this ... lets see ..."

The first thing Jason looks for .. is the node address. "Holly should be able to reference the node address to the system name. That should tell us where we are system-wise, I hope," he mutters.

After listening for a bit, Holly explains, "I never had a VR representation of my room. All of this could have been implemented as soon as it was clear we were coming here."

"This," Holly says, waving a hand at the room around them, "is when Tracy began drifting away from me. I mean, teenagers do that anyway, but you usually can't see it represented in bright flashy colors and a monthly bill."

It takes some time for Jason to adjust to the odd representation - which, in some ways, is more of a distraction than anything else - but at last he manages to figure it out. He works out the identifying details ... Skrymir. That's the internal identification: Skrymir.

"The game, mostly," Holly says, putting her hands in her lap. "Instant social gratification, even if you can't tell the real people from the sims."

"Does Skrymir mean anything to you, Holly?" Jason calls out in a hope that somehow they can hear him. "Now, can I find the synchdioch things the sage mentioned. I wonder if I can say, oh, move one to the car garage and force it to open early..." he mutters.

Randall grins wryly. "That's kind of our problem now in a more immediate way than it's ever been, isn't it?" He glances about the room.

"Skrymir?" Holly asks, biting her lower lip. "That sounds.. hmm. It's not part of the Yggdrasil system that I'm aware of. It could be something new, or something old, like one of the development systems. Skrymir was a giant I think, not a god. That could be telling of the level of the AI."

Randall speaks up, "Didn't that Sage say something about 'karmic convergence'? Like if you flip a coin on a table where there's one in the real world it's more likely to land same side up?"

"When Jason surfaces, we can try to use the OurSpaceVR editor to get the rest of the house closer to the real thing," Holly suggests. I just hope that if we do get a synecdoche, it isn't like the one that brought us here; the expanding-from-a-point kind. Otherwise we'd just end up with my real house here instead of us being back over there."

"I ... gah. This is like trying to tell what something is by looking at it atom by atom under a tunneling microscope. I can see the parts which are the Avatar's network ... and there's something on top of it, an extra layer. I can't directly modify anything. So ... no chance for me to nudge a gate open say, now," Jason shouts. "It looks like this system designed so that only designated points can actually modify the virtual world. I'm guessing anyway. It's hard to be certain, I've never seen a system from inside the data stream! It does follow reason in that with multi-level encryption on the streams it should be impossible to tweak a bit outside the designated interfaces. But ... this does mean we should be able to find the in-game interfaces. And ... consider! If this has been used to test real subjects before ... there has to be a failsafe mechanism that opens an external gate. Otherwise, how else could someone do an emergency evac?"

"I never thought the transference of matter would have been intentional or controllable," Holly admits. "Or possible. I've never actually seen the world-building tools they use for this stuff, even."

"There's enough data stream in here .. and from what little I can decipher ... there's enough here that they might be simulating the entire planet at varying levels of resolution," Jason explains.

"It's his thing. But what I think is... It might not be necessary to use the VR editor for that, Holly," Randall says. "This spot, it seems a little too scuffed up to be just copied from Tracy's VR version. I think we're seeing active karmic convergence. If we move the furniture, blow some dust around, it should land just right."

"Well, yeah, that's what Midgard does," Holly notes. To Randall she says, "Well, we'd have to make this place a lot sloppier. The portal has to open when nobody is there to see it, so we'd need to wait until she's gone to school. I'm hoping she's not in a panic over me vanishing! She could have gone to stay with her father in that case."

"Some good news. I don't think we'll die if we enter a low-resolution area. The simulation is just putting in filler, but it doesn't seem like it would have issues with higher resolution entities going into it," Jason comments.

Randall frowns. "I think that's backward. The portal should spawn where there's the greatest convergence, right? So if this spot isn't convergent, it'll open somewhere else."

"It sounds like we're in Midgard, or at least attached to it," Holly notes, but looks uncertain. "Unless there really is a second large-scale simulation system. I'm beginning to suspect there might be."

Jason idly scratches the neck of his dragon. "I wonder. If I can't open it ... I wonder if I can find a build point for data that would imply the location point for the next portal..." he muses, then pats the dragon. "Circle. Lets find the bright spots and look for target indicators."

The dragon leaps into the "air" and skims the surface of the great translucent barrier. Here and there, there are points where clusters of geometric shapes and glowing points seem to be mirrored - almost - on the other side. Some of them shift, ever so subtly.

"The Sage let slip something about quantum-level simulation during one of his schizoid moments at the restaurant," Holly notes. "All this talk of karmic convergence makes me wonder: what if the goal isn't a super-accurate simulation of the real world, but a way to alter the real world by tweaking the simulation? The Well of Urd is the home of the Norns; the Fates of Norse Mythology."

"Closer to those points. Lets get a good look at them. I think we may be seeing growing convergence," Jason comments.

After surveying the room and trying to think how would a teenage girl mess up her room, Randall decides that he lacks the necessary experience... So he asks Holly. "Can you give me a hand here? We should rearrange the house before dawn, and you're the one who remembers what it looks like."

Holly starts by rumpling the bedding, disorganizing the desk and dresser tops and spreading some clothes on the floor. She also makes sure that none of the shoes are paired up.

"Innnteresting," Jason comments and pats RIU's neck. "Lets head out before we get attacked by some sort of antivirus system, eh? This information helps and I'm worried if i leave those two alone for too long they're do something disturbing."

After some work, it would seem that the room is in a good representation of how it should be ... if locations of furnishings count, and not exact matching of materials, brand names, models, and so forth.

The dragon nods slowly, and then leaps and whips back toward the point where it started. A moment later, Jason jolts back to consciousness, sitting in the chair, with a little dragon wrapped around his shoulders.

Randall goes outside to survey the furniture in the living room and the garage. "Y'know, if we make the room too karmically convergent, the portal's going to wind up in here... And I don't know how we can fit your car or my bike through it! Oh boy, Marge's gonna throw a fit if I lose the bike."

"Whoo!" goes Jason as he bolts upright. His feet kick and he gives the chair a whirl. "Yeah, that's right, who's your daddy now? Me, me, me!" he croons.

"North Bend Museum of Natural History, Memorial Park, First Independent Church, annnnd the pond we crashed in earlier are all points that are building what I think is convergence," Jason explains after coming done from his brief trip to megalomaniac city. "All are about of equal interest at the moment ... but it gives is places to examine and see just how close each are to the real thing. That should give us an edge."

From the other room, Randall calls, "Okay, I can stop thinking about how much of a pain it's going to be to move this sofa, right?"

"Now that IS useful!" Holly says, patting Jason on the head, since his shoulders are covered in dragon. "I'll bake you a pie when we get back. For our vehicles, we should look at the Park I think. Should be a bridge or tunnel that is a likely portal site there."

Jason spreads his arms to Holly. "Come on, you can worship me now," he says as he nods expectantly. "Really! I won't tell anyone you have acknowledged how great I am."

"I already gave a triple-A rating in the freelancers listing," Trudeau points out.

The little dragon blinks expectantly at Ms. Trudeau, giving her a little smile and a purr.

Peeking through the hallway door, Randall says, "Don't make me tell her about the time that you tried to social-engineer the National Feminist Organization and they called me in to arrest you! But isn't the Park more likely to correspond to somewhere in the Diadem, Holly?"

"Ah well. Some people just can't accept greatness," Jason comments as he spins his chair slowly. "I agree that the park is a good first option. Covered bridge or underpass would be a good portal point."

Holly gives in and pets the dragon too. "Good RIU. I'm sure you did most of the work."

Randall glances toward the window, which is dark. "Good work, Jason. Portal can't open before sunrise, and shuts down when monsters stop going through... Let's get some sleep and plan to head out to the park at five, so we won't miss it, huh?"

"I'll sleep here," Holly says. "You two can have the master bedroom. Monsters? Oh, right.. we don't know what kind of portal it will be, do we?"

Jason yawns widely. "I could use some sleep now. It's hard work riding around on a dragon in a spinning world of nausea," he remarks. "I'll just grab the sofa. I'm used to sofas."

The police officer demurs. "I'm going to sleep in the hallway. I want to be close enough to hear if there's a break-in of some kind."

"The sofa folds out," Holly notes. "Which is why Randall couldn't move it, I imagine.."

"You've got sleeping bags in here, right? Or was Tracy the kind of girl where camping out meant doing it virtually?" asks Randall.

"Sleeping bags? Maybe," Holly notes and checks the closet. "Extra beddings and some fancy camping stuff, yeah. Think we should take it all with us, just in case?"

"I wonder if RIU would like to sleep in the oven on warm," Jason mutters as he meanders out of the room. "No idea what dragons like for a bed. Well, except for gold. And while I'm sure Holly has some tacky gold sequin dress ... I just can't inflict that on him. Or her? I have no idea what gender the dragon is. Erg, yeah, bedtime. Babbling."

"Might not be a bad idea... In case we wind up going the other way." Randall glances toward the window. "Goodnight, folks."

Trudeau lies back on the small bed, and hopes her caveman compatriots don't make a huge mess, even if it isn't her own real home.

The night passes uneventfully. No monsters break in, and there isn't even so much as a passing car shining its brights into the front windows to disturb the sleepers. Tracy's virtual room ends up providing Ms. Trudeau with the most comfortable sleep she can recall having had ... well, ever. And that's even despite the reasonable assumption someone might have that she'd be up tossing and turning all night with the concerns of her current predicament: As it is, the combination of shock and fatigue and a comfortable and somewhat familiar place to retire to makes for the right formula for a perfect (and much needed) night's rest.

Likewise, Jason is able to make himself at home in the living room, after making himself well acquainted with the exits and controls for lights and such. RIU uses him as a pillow.

Officer Cranston, however, finds the hallway to be a less than ideal arrangement. The sleeping bag - apparently never used before - certainly helps. But he's nonetheless subjected to a nightmarish recounting of the day's events: the dismembered corpse at the scene, and those cybernetic eyes ripped from its skull ... the memory of Penny Arcadia, meshed with the footage of her being taken away on the medevac ...

"Ungh! I'm not a donut hole! I'm not--" Randall's head thumping against the wall wakes him up. His wrist PDA buzzes, the silent ringer option, and its screen shows the time: 5:01 AM.

The police officer sits up, coming to. Needless to say, he doesn't feel all that well rested. Price of vigilance, he reminds himself. He sheds the bag and checks the other rooms to be sure nothing's wrong, before shaking Jason awake. "Rise and shine, sleepyhead."

It's still dark out, and the street lamps visible make it clear that this isn't because of Jason cranking up the windows' polarization. The little dragon wakes up first, making a snort and then a loud (for its size) yawn, stretching out on Jason's back.

Jason flails an arm weakly. "Lost roll to bed of comfort. Fatally soft. Remember me to ... okay, joke wore out," he tries to complain. Still he does manage to blink into consciousness and waits for the dragon to move before he rolls upright.

The dragon instinctively bounds onto the coffee-table, but then slips as its claws clack onto the super-smooth, glassy surface. It lets out an alarmed squeak, as it skids across and drops off the other side, landing on the floor with a thump.

The police officer checks the kitchen and starts coffee brewing. One with milk and sugar for him, one the way Jason likes it, and... Hmm. "How's Holly like her coffee, Jason?"

Jason sits up, then peers under the table. "Graceful," he tells RIU and grins. Back up he comes and stretches. "Her? Probably black and bitter," the hacker comments and stifles a yawn.

Randall hands Jason his mug, gulps some coffee himself with a grimace at the heat scalding his mouth (but waking him up effectively), then takes up a black coffee with sugar and cream on the side for Holly. He knocks on the bedroom door. "Coffee service, Miss Trudeau."

Jason wisely waits for the coffee to cool a bit before taking a drink. "Nectar of the Gods," he muses as the slight caffeine buzz hits.

"It's not even six yet," Holly complains. A moment later the door opens, she takes the mug of coffee from Randall, and brushes past to enter the master bedroom. The shower starts up, which begs the question: what sort of person drinks coffee in the shower?

The little dragon alights upon Jason's shoulder and sniff-sniffs curiously at the steam rising from the coffee.

Randall asks this very question of Jason, "Am I imagining it or did she just take her coffee into the shower?"

Jason unwisely offers the mug to the dragon, trying to see what would happen if RIU say, drank some. "It's better to just smile and nod with her. I think she had a traumatic brain injury at some point in her life..." he tells Randall.

"We have fifty minutes before sunrise," Jason calls out, hoping that Holly can hear him. "So no girlying up in there! If we waited for you to put your face on, we'll miss the portal!"

Randall tidies up, getting the sleeping bags and camping equipment packed away, using some of his trunk space for the job. "Let's stop for donuts at IHOF, shuold be on the way," he calls.

Some minutes later, Trudeau joins the men in the living room. Her clothes seem none the worse for having gone through the excitement of yesterday and being slept in; the advantages of nano-particle coatings, no doubt. Her hair is not so lucky, as the house only had generic products available. "That coffee was horrible," she notes semi-cheerfully. "No wonder the police are always going to the donut shop for better brew."

Outside, there's the buzz of an automated street-cleaner making its rounds, but otherwise the skies and streets are devoid of early morning traffic, judging by a glance out the windows.

"Got me there, I never could find a good coffee recipe for the synthesizer," Randall admits. "Just used the house default one."

"If you keep buying donuts, Randall, I'm going to start calling you Dunkin'," Jason remarks as he takes a few minutes to 'freshen' up with a wash cloth in the kitchen.

"The IHOF. The 'kids' might be there for breakfast before school," Holly points out. "Do we tell them anything?"

"We could tell them we think we know where the monsters will come next ... and while they fight em, we slip through he portal," Jason suggests.

"That raises another question: if a portal opens and monsters come through, we know it's not going back to the real world, so do we still try to use it?" Holly asks.

"Yes. I'd rather take my chances in a world where the Master can't just squish us with his thumb," Jason says flatly.

Randall strikes a Sage-like pose. "The Sage has spoken! We three have been chosen to scout through the portal and return with information about the Shadow so that we may pursue its demise. We are counting on you to hold the fort, so to speak."

"I also reserve the right to moon his world as we pass through the portal, too," Jason adds.

The police officer hands Holly sugar and cream packets. "It may help the stuff go down," he adds. "Whatever they're using in these IHOF coffee packets, it's not gourmet."

"I just don't want to be there when the monsters spot a shiny white target," Trudeau notes, looking outside and finishing her coffee.

"Then you'd better do something about your bald spot," Jason retorts with a grin. "Lets go."

International House of Flapjacks
A few blocks down from North Bend High, the main draw of this restaurant is that it's open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week - even on holidays. Although the house specialty is flapjacks (it's breakfast SOMEWHERE in the world, after all), they serve a full range of "American-mishmash" menu items. Cozy booths line the walls, while more conventional tables are available toward the center. There's also a separate room for special occasions in the back, and in another corner there's a small mini-arcade with an assortment of antiquated video consoles.

Even this early in the morning, it's open, though contrary to expectations, it doesn't seem that anyone is taking advantage of this fact save for the three people (and one little dragon) that enter through the chiming door.

"Table for four?" the waitress asks - the same, mousy-brown haired waitress that was there last night.

"Well ... no kids. Looks like we're on our own in dealing with the monsters. Think there is an armory anywhere we could raid?" Jason asks the others. "I'd like a few bazookas."

Randall shakes his head. "Sorry, we've got an early appointment, miss. You have donuts, right? Boxed, ready to go?" He offers his account for payment.

"I didn't see the kids use weapons," Holly notes. "We have whatever Cranston has in his bike and belt though."

"You point the explodey end at something and push a button. How hard can it be?" Jason asks.

The waitress comes back with a box full of piping hot donuts. She swipes the card, and it's accepted without any trouble. "Would you like any drinks to go with that?"

"Hey, I'm not SWAT, I don't carry anything more dangerous than my sidearm," Randall says. "Okay, Jason, I'm never letting you touch a gun. Yes, three cups of coffee to go, thanks!"

"There, we have donuts," Holly points out. "Monsters can't resist those. I think. I've never seen any other critter resist them."

"Why not? They let you touch a gun. Or is gun handling some super-secret power bestowed by your ridiculous goatee?" Jason remarks to Randall. To the waitress, he asks, "How about some decent coffee?"

"Here you go," the waitress says, coming back with a carrier and three quick-mugs of coffee. "It doesn't get any more decent than this, anywhere in town." By the smell, it's definitely an improvement over the house synthesizer.

Randall gets a smaller box for a couple of the donuts. "Yeah, they made us swear a solemn oath never to share the Great Secret of Handling Guns with outsiders. Which is, safety off, THEN push the button-- whoops, I've said too much. Now I'm going to have to swear you both to secrecy."

The little dragon leaps down to the floor, where he snuffles about and then licks up a couple of frosting crumbles that have fallen during the transfer of donuts from box to box.

"Come on, Tex, lets get going. RIU ... you can have a donut in the car. I'm sure Holly won't mind crumbs," Jason says, grinning. The hacker then pauses and taps his head, "Miss? Do the kids ever come by in the morning? If not, do you know where their school is?"

"Besides that, sidearms like mine have thumbprint locks," the police officer explains as he thanks the waitress and helps them get the food to the car and bike. "For an armory, I'm guessing the weapons have to get issued by the system. Which... I guess you could do, but I don't know if there's even an armory full of 'handy monster-busting bazookas' nearby."

"Hmm?" the waitress responds, and there's a distinctive pause, as if it takes a moment for her to shift gears out of topics directly related to the food. "Oh, the kids you were with earlier? They go to North Bend High. It's just a few blocks down. Several of the children stop here in the morning, but not THIS early."

"So, we go scout out likely doorways, and then go back and check on them based on the order they'll fall into shadow?" Holly asks the others. "Or should we split up; one for the park, one for the museum and one for the church to cover all the bases?"

"Give me an hour and I bet I could bypass your thumbprint scanner," Jason notes to Randall. He nods the the waitress, then remarks to the others, "Lets swing by the school and see if we see them. If not, we move on to the park. No, Holly, we go together. How else can we go through the portals, otherwise?"

Randall rubs his beard. "Isn't splitting up what happens before monsters attack and kill us individually except for the best looking one of us? Which is to say, nice knowing you both, I'll say a prayer at your closed-casket funerals."

"Except then they would just take you prisoner and expect you to sire a new line of monsters. Hope you enjoy being a demon's concubine," Jason quips.

"Let's get going then," Holly says. "If a synecdoche to the real world appears, we may not be able to see it until something goes through. So save the cups for tossing into them."

Grimacing, the police officer shakes his head at Jason's suggestion. "Okay, okay. I don't think they'll be at North Bend High this early. Let's head on to the park."

As the group mills about and discusses their plans, the restaurant's door chimes. A young, raven-haired lady steps in, looking momentarily surprised, and then passes them, heading up to the counter.

"Welcome to IHOF!" the waitress says, cheerily, as she moves to take the new customer's order. At a peripheral glance, for a moment it registers as Sasha - but, no, it's someone else entirely - paler-skinned, with some Asian influence to her features.

Randall types on his PDA, instructing it to monitor police and emergency channels. "'Morning, miss," he says distractedly. Presumably if monsters appear elsewhere, alarms should go off...

Remembering something, Jason says, "Hello Miss! Would you, uh, happen to be Akiko?"

The girl turns suddenly, giving a start. "Ah ... yes, sir." She wears what looks like a schoolgirl's uniform - or at least, it has the look of one. Such things aren't really in vogue anymore, but then, there is that whole "twenty years ago" vibe going on around here, in general. (Still, a name like "North Bend High" doesn't generally communicate, "Private School.")

"So, you're the mysterious friend of Blake, Sasha, Small, and Jenny," Jason says with a smile. "We met them the other night. When I saw you, their description of you came back to me. Rather early for you to be out, isn't it?"

She's obviously taken aback by the address, but quickly recovers her composure, nodding humbly. "Mysterious? I ... I guess they would say that. I know them ... but I wouldn't call them friends. You ... are you related to them?" She looks over to Officer Cranston. "Is there something wrong?"

Randall looks up as he hears the names. He gives the Asian-seeming student a reassuring smile. "No, miss. Nothing to worry about. I'm Officer Cranston. This impertinent fellow is Jason, and this is Holly," he says, introducing the other adults. "We're doing some case research in the area."

"No, nothing wrong," Holly says, smiling. At least she's the least physically intimidating of the group.

"No, not related. Just investigating some interesting reports in the area," Jason adds and waves towards Randall. "Disappearances and strange monsters. That sort of thing. Maybe you can help us out? Have you seen anything odd recently?"

The waitress, meanwhile, just stands to the side, tablet in hand, smiling and ready to take an order.

"Monsters?" Akiko looks lost at the word. "That's a very strange thing to be asking me about. But anything odd? Well, no monsters, of course. Why ..." She scrunches up her expression slightly, as if trying to peer further into the eyes of her questioners. "Monsters?"

"Ultimately most of the stories just tend to be fantasies created by people to drink a bit too much. We're not putting too much credence in them, but we have to look into it," Jason adds, trying to reassure the girl. "If there is anything you've seen or heard, we'd love to hear. If not, well, that's okay too. And yeah, monsters. Big shadowy things with nasty fangs. Probably just holo-projectors, you know, if they turn out to have any sort of factual basis."

"Or kids who've played to much Avatars having bouts of fantasy," Holly suggests.

The girl's eyes still dance back and forth between Jason and Randall but then finally over to Holly. "There are ghost stories at school," she says, "but I haven't heard of anyone talking about monsters outside of video games. And I'm not much for video games."

"What sort of ghost stories?" Jason asks and motions for Randall to start taking notes. "And could you give my friend your full name so we file your account properly?"

For a moment, it seems colder in the room. "My name is Akiko," the girl says, standing up straighter. "Akiko Summers. And ..." Suddenly, she seems less certain. Her eyes dance about, as if she's searching for something - though it seems that really whatever she's looking for is in (or isn't) her mind.

Randall smiles reassuringly. "Don't worry, you're not being investigated for anything. We're just looking for more information on the case. If you happen to see anything..." He offers his e-mail address. "Don't try to pursue it yourself, but pass it on and we'll make sure it gets looked into."

The hair prickles on the back of Randall's neck. "We need to get moving," he tells Jason and Holly. "Nice to meet you, Akiko, and have a good day at school!"

"That's all we can ask of you. Thank you for your help," Jason remarks and also smiles. "RIU, shoulder ... now. I think she's summoning her Avatar." the hacker thinks.

Holly puts a hand to her chest and looks surprised for a moment, then can't help but look around as well to see if anyone's appeared.

Akiko's eyes go wide, as if somehow she hadn't noticed the little creature licking up donut crumbs on the floor until just now.

"Keep a watch on my back, please," Jason thinks as he turns away from Akiko and motions for the others to follow. He heads towards the door.

Officer Cranston pretends to check his wrist-PDA, triggering the 'fake police alert' that makes it look like he's being called away on important business. He nods to Akiko before leaving. "Be careful out there!"

Akiko snaps out of her reverie, and gives Officer Cranston a quick half-bow - the sort of gesture that one might expect from a stereotypical Japanese foreign exchange student, perhaps, more so than an American girl with a last name like "Summers." "Of course, officer. Have a good day."

"Run a name search ... now," Jason hisses to Randall on the way out, "We need to know if she might be real. She didn't seem like a simulation..."

Outside, Randall points out to Jason, "Outside link's down, remember?" He does the search nevertheless.

Holly drops her hand from her chest, and takes a steadying sip of coffee. "I've got the Avatar's phone directory on my mobile," she offers.

Randall nods, "Link it in please," as he does his search, small box of donuts under one arm.

"Bah, I forgot. Worth a try, though," Jason mutters. He pulls out his mini-terminal and also decides to a attempt a search in a less ... legal fashion. "I guess all of you felt it," he remarks quietly.

Trudeau fishes the device from her jacket and authorizes the data transfer one-handed.

"Yeah, I reacted to something, just as she looked like she was about to... I don't know, act."

"No kidding. I've never felt like that since the Sarge stepped up right behind me at academy," Randall says. "He wasn't making a sound, but I knew someone was watching. And disapproving."

Akiko Summers. Former employee of Avatars LLC - an intern - brought in on a translation project, for partial college credit. Records indicate that she left the program early last year. Nothing else can be found from just the phone directory; the remainder comes from the PDA's cache, from his previous searches.

It seems she was never a full employee - which is why he didn't get an immediate hit on his first attempt to find out about her, with the first name only.

"Well ... I have a theory. I think Akiko is another real person. I also think she may have been trying to escape and help the kids escape. So ... the Master and his Sage fashioned her into a villain over time," Jason remarks. "She was scared when I mentioned Monsters."

Randall nods. "It fits. But I don't see that we can bring her with us... Unless you want to put your Avatar up against whatever she's got."

"If she's anything like the others, RIU would be a snack," Jason admits. "Sorry, RIU, but it's true."

"One of these people has to be tied in close with the Master," Holly notes, unlocking the aircar. "Or all of them."

The police officer nods. "Either way, we've got to get out of this world. Let's go."

"Maybe Akiko worked for the MAster? Uncovered what he was doing and was sent here by an 'accident'?" Jason suggests as he climbs into the car. "Lets go to the park. We can theorize while flying. Time isn't going to pause for a ponder and it's ticking away."

Veterans' Memorial Park
Ancient monuments to the "good wars" of a century ago vie with smaller and less descript monuments of numerous police actions, peacekeeping efforts, and lesser wars of more recent decades. In the center is a fountain topped by a statue of a Colonial-era minuteman at the ready, with sprays of water contributing to a ring-shaped pool. Walkways radiate out from the central circle, and off to one side there's a playground, while across the way there's a white gazebo, surrounded by flowering bushes.

It's still dark out, as the aircar encountered no obstacles on the way, and there was no trouble at all finding a parking spot. The park is pretty much as it is from the Real World, after all, barring whatever minor changes may have happened in the past few years.

A few birds chirrup in the trees, in anticipation of the dawn, while bugs buzz away in the bushes.

After surveying the park, Jason suggests, "My thoughts would be the gazebo or the pool of water. The way the pool is positioned with the radiating lines ... it just screams possible intersection."

Snap! The little dragon flits about, snapping a few bugs out of the air, adding some protein to its diet of begged donuts.

Over the radio, Officer Cranston's voice speaks. "Let's stay on the vehicles and keep them ready. We don't want to get caught away from our food supply. I'm monitoring emergency frequencies in case monsters pop up elsewhere."

After parking the car, Trudeau looks around. "Pond and gazebo could work, but I don't think the pond will be in full shade until sundown," she notes, and goes to look at the landscape around the gazebo.

"RIU, stay alert for any forming portals," Jason thinks. He decides to remain with the car, as per Randall's suggestion. Besides, RIU can be his eyes while he relaxes. Aahhh.

Randall, out of habit, parks just out of sight behind a bush and switches on the radar gun for tracking high-speed moving objects. "You're thinking try the other locations first?" he radios.

The gazebo has been there since before the Trudeaus moved into North Bend, and it's pretty much as she remembers it. Although it has a convincing appearance of being made from genuine wood, closer inspection gives away telltale hints that it's synthwood.

Deciding to experiment, Jason reclines his seat slightly and closes his eyes to cancel out what he sees, to see if RIU's field of view takes over. "The Museum didn't seem to allow much open area," he comments.

"Something to think about... It was pretty overcast yesterday when we were out. Then sunny skies here," Randall points out over the radio. "Exactly where does it have to be shady for these monsters to appear?"

"The portal needs to be in shadow, monsters or not," Holly notes. "I wonder if we'll feel something if a portal is around."

The park is completely devoid of any other visitors, save for the bugs (which are being slowly reduced in number by RIU), and the birds.

Randall settles in, not having seen anything out of the ordinary. He brings up his PDA and checks for whether his map of the area has recent satellite photographs of the area... Then is startled as sprinklers go off around him. He glances quickly at the radar gun report to see if it's got a report.

The gazebo provides a respite from the sprinklers, dimly lit as it is by the park's nighttime security lights. But nonetheless, somehow it feels a little bit ... darker than it ought to be.

BEEP! Something was definitely speeding, over near the bushes, when Randall pointed the radar gun that way.

Putting her hand to her chest, Holly feels that odd feeling inside again. "Augment, Sage said," she mutters. "So something is up that taps into the game system, maybe." Into the radio she asks, "Anyone feel anything? I'm in the Gazebo and it's getting a little weird."

Jason is nice and dry inside the car, content to let RIU search for him for the moment. "I'm feeling a comfortable seat," he answers.

"Got a bogey on radar," Randall reports. Habit compels him to flip the tailwing lights and siren on as he lifts the bike up in pursuit.

"Gah! You spooked RIU!" Jason complains as he bolts upright from the sudden jerk in his mental 'view'. "It's probably just a rabbit..."

The siren echoes off of the surrounding buildings. The radar gun blips again, as there's a sudden flurry of high-speed motion.

It appears to be somewhere on the opposite side of the park, past the fountain, near the playground.

"We've got something in the neighborhood, other side, are you buckled in?" crackles Cranston's voice over the radio.

"I am. Don't expect me to drive this thing, though. Holly would whine if I scratch it," Jason notes as he starts powering up the car anyway.

"Where's Holly? Didn't she stay with the car? I need you to get her back inside, Jason," Randall says over the radio as he levitates the bike to get a better view. "It's still dark, could be a monster."

Great, Holly thinks. I'm right out in the open. I wish the bloody sprinklers would shut off! She gets ready to run for the car, despite the potentially wet footing.

"She ran off to the gazebo. You know her. She gets something in her head and it's no stopping her," Jason comments.

The spinner-bike comes to a hover between the aircar, and the playground, across the way. Meanwhile, Holly is still over near the gazebo, it seems, carefully weighing her options versus the sprinklers.

"Whatever it is, it's pretty darn fast," Randall says. He switches the megaphone on. "This is the police! Whomever you are, we mean you no harm."

"RIU, can you go try to see what that thing is and be somehow ... hidden? I half-suspect Akiko send her Avatar after us. And I suspect it might be a fox, given the kids descriptions of her," Jason instructs the dragon. "Just don't get eaten."

The alarm still echoes off of the buildings, though the megaphone is loud enough to cut even through that.

Randall shuts the alarm and flashing lights off, in a bid not to spook the thing, whatever it is.

The little dragon slowly fades out of view, starting from its tail-tip, finishing with its little whiskers and its faintly glowing eyes.

After a bit, the sprinklers around the gazebo stop, while they start up in another quadrant of the park.

For the briefest of moments, Holly hears a "crunch" of wet grass being compressed, just as the sprinklers die down.

"We just want to talk to you," adds Randall, now that the alarm's off. He waits and watches for radar reports.

"Wow, that was cool," Jason says out loud as the little dragon fades. "Now ... try to find the thing that seems to be watching us..."

"Guys?" she radios, as quietly as she can. "There's something outside the Gazebo. And it's dark in here too. I might be standing on the portal, so if I leave, will it open up behind me?"

A faint breeze whips by Holly's ear, as if something unseen just sailed past her.

"I have no idea. Are you saying you're a portal cork?" Jason asks over the radio. "RIU's off scouting for whatever it is Randall caught on radar..."

Randall mutters, "Frotz." To the radio: "Jason, point the car at the gazebo. Get ready to hit the headlights." He repositions his bike likewise.

"You're invisible?" Holly hisses to the air. "Then another Avatar could be too. Go look for footprints in the grass."

Jason fires up the car and slowly rotates it to point at the car. "Holly, don't panic ... but RIU sees a silhouette near you. And ... it scares him. I recommend you act ... normal," he whispers into the radio.

"Woman," comes a voice that seems of uncertain gender, with echoing undertones to it, "you speak of portals and monsters, yet you seem too old to be concerned with such things." For a brief moment, Holly seems to catch a glimpse of a shadowy form behind the gazebo ... but then the car's lights fall upon the space, and there's nothing there.

"It was talking!" Holly reports, and then looks around. "And now it's vanished.."

"Vanished, but not gone," the voice whispers for Holly's ears - but Jason can hear it, via RIU, as well. "Why is it that you stand where you do? For what possible purpose?"

"Don't panic, get ready to run for the car, Holly," Randall's calm, collected voice says over the radio. "We'll cover you. Ready?" There's the sound of his sidearm coming live.

An image is conveyed to Jason, as RIU frantically searches about, trying to zero in on where the voice might be coming from.

"Listen, Cheshire Cat or whoever you are," Holly whispers. "We don't belong here. We want out. We need a portal for that. And I'm not that old!"

"Randall, wait..." Jason says into the radio. "Lets see what it .... wants. If Akiko was trying to help them escape ... maybe it's an ally ..."

"To see 'monsters,' as you call them," the disembodied voice continues, "you are all too old. But I can see well enough that you do not follow the same rules. I see your companion's avatar. And I can sense something from you as well. It burns deep within you. That you are not from this world would fit with what I have seen."

"Hey, we've seen monsters before," Jason grumbles. "I may be in my twenties, but I'm not a doddering old man yet."

"Out of here?" The voice laughs mirthlessly. "That much, I can arrange. But will you be so happy with the way things are, when you reach your destination?"

"Right, who are you? And by the last question, am I to assume you to mean this is a portal that leads into Shadow?" Holly asks.

"You may call me Inari," the voice says, "for there is none in this world to challenge me for the name. You are close in your guess, but there is no portal here. There is only potential. That potential shall not be decided upon until dawn's light - which is nearly upon us."

"Inari? Goddess of.. uh.. the rice harvest?" Holly asks. "Well, I need to go rejoin my friends, so I need to know why you are here as well."

"I am here because there is need for me to be here," the voice replies. "More than that, I do not know that it is prudent for me to share with you."

"Ask him what the need is," Jason says into the radio. "Ask him if he works for, or against, the Master, and why!"

"Swell," Holly says, and turns towards the threshold of the Gazebo. "Oh, yeah, do you work for the Master?"

Randall waits silently, trying to see through the darkness. The urge to shed some light on the scene is tempting, but so far Holly doesn't seem panicked. Nervous, yes.

"The Master?" The voice laughs again. "What master is there? Is anything that orderly? We are all prisoners here. We are ..." Then, there's a low growl.

"Ah," Holly says, and runs out of the Gazebo. "Let's chat later, shall we?" she calls back to Inari.

The little dragon whips past Holly - close enough that she can feel its whisker tickling her cheek as it rushes past.

Randall puts the floodlight on to cover Holly's retreat, targeting the grass around her.

A wildcat's roar echoes out of the darkness, as a large cat-like silhouette slowly fades into view. Next to it, a girl in a schoolgirl's uniform - but with the tie loose about her neck, a few accessories that probably aren't standard - holds a hand on its ruff.

"Stay out of this!" the disembodied voice howls. "By what knack are you always here to be a nuisance?"

"Okay, fill me in, Holly, Jason," Randall says over the radio as he moves to interpose the bike to cover Holly's retreat. "I'm going to take a shot in the dark and say this is going to be a portal to Shadow shortly, and that Inari is the person Holly was just talking to?"

This time, the girl is Sasha, definitely, though not in her "adventuring gear" as she had from the night previous. In fact, she's even got her textbooks in a sling - which she sets aside. "Hide and go seek - it's Moonbeam's specialty, you know."

"We don't know if this Inari is an enemy or not. We don't have enough information!" Jason calls into the radio. "And now Sasha is here and you might hit her. No guns yet! We can't rist hurting someone." He runs his hands through his hair in frustration, then admits, "I wish I wasn't such a wimp."

"We all do, Jason!" Holly agrees as she gets back into the car. "So to man you up, you get to question the next big invisible monster that sneaks up, okay?"

"Or I go deal with this one now," Jason says as he starts to exit the car. "Will both of you just stop" he shouts towards the gazebo. "For once quit fighting and why don't we all try to figure this out!"

Holly sinks into the driver's seat and catches her breath. "Don't close the door, just in case," she advises.

Over next to the gazebo, a silhouette shimmers into view, and then resolves itself into a huge, horse-sized fox-like creature, with elongated features, a spindle-shaped gem set in its forehead, and strange markings on its face and body. Ethereal flame-like shapes rise from its shoulders, much like RIU's "wings," and it seems to have a wild mane running back from its head. It opens its mouth, but the mouth does not move as the "disembodied voice" emits from it. "I haven't the time to bother with you rogue. You may be skilled at seeing that which is unseeable ... but what if there is too much to be seen?"

Randall lifts the airbike up a bit to get better coverage - the spotlight is mounted to the undercarriage of the spinner. Over the megaphone, he calls, "This is Officer Cranston, NYPD. Please stand down, repeat, stand down. There's no need for violence. We can resolve the situation peacefully."

Just as the large fox-like creature appeared, its form shimmers, and from the same spot leap several more foxes - a total of eight, including the original ... that is if that is really the original in the same location.

The wild cat looks like it's about to tear into the first fox it sees ... but all eight foxes - and the human girl - look up in surprise at the police officer on his spinner-bike.

"When is sunrise?" Holly wonders and checks the sky. "We can't have them posturing if monsters are going to spill out of the Gazebo. Let them know that, Jason."

Swallowing back the huge lump forming in his throat, Jason starts walking towards the gazebo. "Please, listen to Randall," he pleads, "Daylight will be upon us soon and the portal might open. If everyone fights, we'll all be killed by what comes through."

The foxes brace themselves, suddenly aware of the tensing of Moonbeam's semi-ethereal muscles. They seem to be holding their action for the moment....

"Sasha. Inari. I'm asking you as an officer of the law, STAND DOWN." Randall plays his spotlight over the scene. "We are here to stop a great threat to the world - to many worlds. We need your help - both of you."

Over the radio, Randall says to the others, "The donuts! We need a distraction!"

"Right," Holly says, a bit in disbelief. Still, she reaches over to the box of donuts and nudges the car forward between the two groups of antagonists. She tosses a donut towards one of the foxes.

"RIU. If you're based off my little robot ... he could remove security programs. Can, can you remove some of them?" Jason thinks, panicking on what he can do against a bunch of creatures with big teeth.

The foxes look in disbelief at the donut. However, Moonbeam seems inexplicably fascinated by the cream-filled, frosted, chocolate-sprinkled confection that has just come down from the heavens, right in front of her.

The little dragon ... well, it seems that nobody can actually see what the dragon is up to ... except for Jason. He is treated to a dragon's-eye-view of the scene, as he inspects the foxes up close and personal ... by flying up to one ... and through it. Then another. Then another. Then ... paf. Oh, that one's real. The little dragon meeps and zooms away!

The foxes flinch, looking simultaneously annoyed ... and then, Moonbeam leaps for the kill!

"Moonbeam!" Sasha cries out - but too late. Then, she looks on in utter disbelief, as Moonbeam intensely licks at her paw and wipes at her face.

"Okay, save it for the schoolyard, girls," Holly yells from the car. "You probably both have better places to be right now. Or do you want to leave Blake in Ginny's clutches unsupervised?"

Megaphone again. "We have more donuts where that came from," Randall says, moving his airbike closer and switching from spotlight to regular headlights. He waves the box of donuts over the side of the bike, then sets it down, opens it and moves the bike to the side to give Moonbeam and the foxes clear access. Megaphone off, speaking in a loud voice instead. "And we aren't afraid to share them. Are you brave enough to give talking a chance?"

The foxes, Sasha, and maybe even the cat give Officer Cranston incredulous looks.

And then, in a flash, the foxes leap, scattering in all directions, bounding off as the first light of dawn begins to cut across the sky.

Moonbeam looks ready to spring after one, then the other, but Sasha holds the cat back. "No, Moonbeam," she says. "Another time."

"We need to save some donuts in case of monster attack you know!" Holly tells Cranston, then edges the car closer to Jason as dawn approaches.

In a panic, Jason's eyes dart about. "Some thing to use, some thing to use," he says worriedly. "Light pole. Wires. Electricity!" he decides and runs towards the nearest one.

Cranston looks sheepish, not that that shows over the radio but his voice reflects it, "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Jason pulls out one of his multi-tools and starts dismantling the base plate. "At least if something attacks me I can give it quite a shock," he mutters. "Bazookas. I told him we needed bazookas."

The foxes slip away into the retreating shadows. Sasha, meanwhile, calls her cat back to her, gives a pat, and then whispers something into the cat's ear. The cat slowly fades out.

Cranston dismounts and goes to pick up the donuts. He offers the small box to Sasha. "You look hungry, miss," he says. "Sorry to intervene, but we didn't want to see anyone get hurt."

Jason has the base plate off before he realizes everything is over. With a sigh, he just rests his forehead against the light pole. "I want to go home," he mutters.

Sasha laughs and takes the box in hand. "What can I say? I'm an early riser, and that just means I have more hours in the day to find trouble, I guess." More seriously, she looks at the others. "Just what was going on here, after all?"

"We're trying to find a portal home," Jason answers. "I liked to the main system and determined this was one of several options. We ran into your ... friend Akiko along the way. I suspect she sent that thing after us."

"Uhm...." Sasha blinks a few times, looking around at the others, while she tries to formulate what to say.

"Not that you're going to believe us," Jason notes as he finally gets back to his feet.

Meanwhile, Holly sets the car down and gets out, holding her empty cardboard coffee cup with the IHOF logo on it.

Randall gives Jason a look, then tries to explain it in a more reassuring fashion to Sasha. "These portals - they don't lead just to Shadow, Sasha, but also to other worlds, like the one we came from. We got sucked into one, we're trying to find our way back."

"Oh ... right," Sasha says. "Of course. That was the fox spirit again, wasn't it? Guess you got a number done on you. Well ... don't worry, it'll probably fade now that the sun's up. In a bit. Listen. Don't go anywhere. I'm going to go get Blake, and he'll probably know what to do. Either that, or the Sage."

Standing in front of the Gazebo now, Holly throws the cup in hopes of getting it to come out the other side.

"Are you okay, RIU? Uhm, come back to me if you are," Jason thinks. At the comment of fetching Blake or the sage, Jason rubs his eyes. He doesn't say what he's thinking now though.

The cup bounces off the synthwood, and rolls out the other side, landing in the flowered bushes on the other side.

Jason can feel RIU wrapping around his shoulders. For whatever reason, the dragon hasn't seen fit to make itself visible again, though Jason can sense that it can't necessarily do so indefinitely.

Whistling, Holly walks around to retrieve the cup and try again until she can get it to vanish.

Pock. Roll. Pock. Roll. So far, no results from the experiments.

"It'll all be all right," Sasha says. "Of course, if you do like most grown-ups and just totally forget about it all and go back to normal ... well, that's fine, too. Perfectly natural. Happens all the time." And then she picks up her pace as she heads down the street.

The police officer looks after Sasha, then shakes his head. "Have a good day at school, miss," he calls.

"You can, uhm, show yourself, RIU," Jason thinks. To Randall and Holly, he says in a dejected tone, "Looks like this location was a bust for the portal. I'll spend more time tonight trying to isolate the next breach point. Sorry about wasting everyone's chance for an escape."

After retrieving her (not slightly dented) cup again, Holly asks, "How did the Sage explain it? We can't be looking for the portal in order for it to open?"

The little dragon fades into view ... and then, its whiskers twitch, and it sends Jason a mental jab - and an image from its own eyes, as it sees a tall, cloaked and cowled individual gliding down the still-shadowed street.

"There's someone coming this way. It might be the sage," Jason comments as he looks down the street, then walks in that direction.

It would appear that the Sage is coming to pay a visit. He makes the distance in long strides, meeting Jason first. "A prophecy I bring, as has been agreed. The location of the portal, has now been decreed."

"It doesn't need to be sundown for a portal to the real world," Holly points out. "It was daytime at the arcade."

"To your own world, I fear, the way is not known," the sage intones. "But to where shadows dwell, the way has been shown."

"Under watchful gaze of a brave warrior's eyes," the sage says, "A white house with no walls serves as the portal's disguise."

"Well, if Sasha does bring the others back, we can get them to handle the monsters while we slip through when it opens," Jason adds as he absently pets the little dragon on his shoulders.

"The sunlight comes, the day is anew," the sage says, "And as shadows return, the Shadows come to view."

"Well.. they won't come out until evening though, right?" Holly asks. "They don't like being in the light. But they're going to be watching and waiting?"

"Whomever wrote his game dialog was lame," Jason remarks with a shake of his head.

"Watch they shall, for they hate the light," the sage says, "For they are weakened by the sun, which drives them to flight."

"So we go in with our lights on," Holly notes with a nod. "Any advice on how Randall and I can make use of our Link abilities?"

"The only reason something would be weak to light was if it had weakness to certain EMF frequencies," Jason opines, "Which means ... hm. I wonder if we built an array of UV lamps ... would it hurt them?"

"They're monsters, Jason," Holly points out. "They don't follow natural guidelines."

"No matter of time, for it matters to them not," the sage says, "Only when shadows they see, shall there be aught."

The police officer lays it out. "The portal can open any time of the day, but it won't close until they come through. What we have to do is to create an artificial shadow."

"That is all for today, and away I must be," the sage says, "For the shadows' retreat is home now for me." And with that, he offers no response to the officer's suggestion, but instead turns as if to leave.

"Thanks, Sage," Randall says. It doesn't actually hurt to be courteous even to an AI.

Randall shakes his head. "Not big enough. No, I'm thinking find a weather balloon or blimp and tow it in place."

The sage withdraws ... and the next time anyone happens to glance in the direction in which he was last seen - well, he's not there.

"Or we could raid a store and buy one of those collapsible banquet tents, then build it over the gazebo," Jason suggests.

"I'm with Jason on this," Holly says. "I have no idea where we'd find a blimp."

"Light is light, Holly. It's a combination of EM frequencies. If they are vulnerable to light, then it's a weakness to a frequency, period," Jason does comment to Holly. "It we knew which, we would have a weapon."

"If it won't disturb this 'synecdoche', which I don't know if it would," Randall says. "Either way, sounds like a trip to the hardware store and to an outdoors caterer's office for us."

"Well, think about it. This world is quantum simulation, right?" Jason comments.

Randall suggests, "Let's get started - down to Tech Depot for Jason, and I'll make some phone calls asking about either rent-a-blimp services or party tents?"

"So, going by that theory ... you do know Einstein's papers on the photoelectric effect, right? Certain frequencies trigger the emission of electrons, photons, and so on. EM stimulates the structure. Maybe it's the stimulation that causes their molecular structure to degrade," Jason suggests.

"But we can test it with a prism, probably," Holly concedes. "And wouldn't City Hall have a tent canopy for outdoor events?"

"Oh yeah, we can call city hall and just borrow their tent!" Jason says with a roll of his eyes.

The police officer flashes his badge. "Sounds like a plan, mister! I'll get on that, you go shopping."

A shed over to the side of the park opens up, and a group of automated mower-bots file out, line up, and then begin to make their way across the grounds.

"And we might want to get out of here before the kids get back. Again, if they think we're in league with Inari ... they'll attack us. I'm not quite ready to die yet. Though .. that does remind me. How many rounds do you have, Randall?" Jason asks.

"17 shots left in the gun, plus a couple clips," Randall reports, glancing at the ammo count.

"Make sure you keep three rounds. Frankly, I'd rather have a bullet in my head than end up lobotomized like the others have been," Jason comments a bit grimly.

The police officer looks startled at Jason's grim thought. "Then we'd better move along quickly."

The normal noise of a town in the early morning starts to replace the chirruping crickets and singing birds, as a few early-rising citizens make way in their ground-cars to work.

"No sense hanging around here," Holly notes, and heads for the car. "Might want to cordon off the Gazebo though if you have some police tape, Randall."

Indoors Outdoors
This store specializes in quick-assemble outdoor structures, ranging from old-style tents, to accommodations that look something like pyramids or bunkers, to more decorative (and seasonal) structures. They range from "do-it-yourself" assembly, to "push a button and stand back" self-assembly. Most of it's available as rentals, though prices are nonetheless given for purchase, even for the pricier self-assembly units.

"It's the last one we have," the proprietor has, still looking somewhat surprised to see an officer in uniform stopping in to shop. "It follows all the codes, of course - for a temporarily outdoor structure. It's been a great seller. Now, of course, you can't do without the accessories. We've got holo ghost projectors, projected sounds for the "whisper in the ear" - the whole gamut.

"It's got to be easy to set up," Randall explains to the clerk. "It should be fairly unobstructed inside. Hmmm, no, we've got plans for those already."

"Well, it's free-standing. Doesn't even need a center pole," the proprietor proclaims, gesturing to the images displayed on the manual pad.

Randall beams. "That will do very nicely then! And easy setup, you said? It's a little decorated, but I'm not too concerned with the look. This should be very helpful, sir." He provides the department's expense account number, and negotiates a quick delivery and later pickup the following day.

Another Man's Treasure
Junk, junk and more junk. What was once a big discount store at some point now is home to all sorts of scrapped devices from yesteryear - the only uniform detail being that it's powered in some way ... but then, there are exceptions to that, too, what with all the empty casings, various old accessories, and even odd merchandise that the owner must have gotten in a lot deal.

"I'm tellin' ya," the owner says, leaning over the counter, "you just can't get these like before. The only reason I can sell them is because of a loophole, you know. All those rules and regulations on that and ... well, I'm not saying it's unsafe or anything! You can just stand there and SEE yourself tanning, knowwhaddimean?"

"Feel free to plug it in and take a look," the owner says, no doubt gauging the pallor of his potential customer's skin. "As-is, though. Make sure you're happy. No exchanges, no returns."

Jason leans against the counter and gestures with his arms, looking bored. "I'm aware of the regulations regarding emission power at certain frequencies. And since I'm not exactly looking to go tanning, well, the safety aspect isn't such of a concern. As long as it works and you have a DC to AC conversion kit so I can hook it up to standard battery systems, it'll probably be good enough. And of course since I know you probably have a hard time selling these, I'm sure you'll discount them to get em off your hands, right?" The hacker then pushes himself off the counter and goes to inspect the system. Namely .. do the ballasts at least loon in functional order and the wire gauges not too much of a fire hazard.

The store owner seems flabbergasted. He goes over to talk tech with his potential customer, no doubt failing to realize just what he's in for....

Left to her own devices, Holly browses the junk with a disinterested look. Or else it's her 'shopper' face, perhaps.

The air has that fresh-cut grass smell, and the mower-bots have long since retreated to their shed. A few preschoolers play on the playground, under the watchful eyes of the women seated on the benches nearby. A long-haired man in well-worn clothes sits on the rim of the fountain, playing a light-guitar, with his hat set out; it has a swiper perched in it, for the convenience of card payment, and a little sign that indicates that he accepts all major cards and a few minor ones.

Most of the stores didn't even open until 10 am, so by now it's noon. A utility van rolls into the parking lot with "Indoors Outdoors" glowing on the sides; the logo is animated, and repeatedly unfolds and refolds itself to illustrate the point. As it comes to a stop, the back drops, and one of the men from the cab comes around. He climbs in and straps himself into a power loader, and hauls out a large cube-shaped package that neatly fills the back of the truck.

"You sure dis is the right place, Joe?" the driver says to the man in the power loader. "I mean, dis is the park."

"Hey, he's a copper," Joe says. "You gunna question a copper? I think not. He's gotta have all them permits and stuff. Anyhow, I just puts it where it goes. Spot for me, 'kay, Sam?"

The police bike descends from the skies, with Randall aboard carrying a basket of to-go sandwiches. "Hello!" he calls to the delivery people. "Let me sign for that, and thank you, gentlemen."

And with that, the driver tucks away his nicostick. "Right here, buddy," he says, pulling up a pad from his belt and producing a stylus. "Here and here."

Another delivery van rolls up, humming as it goes. The sides of the van flicker with stylized pulses of energy, but the original logo in the midst of it all seems to have been disabled, and a new one painted on - in rather unanimated, old-fashioned style - "Another Man's Treasure." The driver tips his hat to the other delivery guys, then brings his vehicle in, and goes around to the back. A rickety-looking labor-bot hops out of the back, along with an automated tracked cart, and they start to trundle the UV-projector stands out.

The police officer sizes up the situation. Over the radio he calls, "Lunch's on, guys! And it looks like we're going to have to clear a few people out, so let's eat first."

Holly ignores the deliveries to watch the playground. "How do we keep the kids away from a what looks like a haunted house attraction?" she asks the others. "Maybe RIU can go keep them distracted," she then suggests.

"Look, your company has to pay for it," Jason tells Holly as he fiddles under the hood, "We are still on the clock. And quit complaining about me modifying your car. A few wire splices and drilled holes never hurt anyone." He peeks out around the hood, adding, "Are you implying my ferocious defender is cute?"

"Pleasure doin' business witcha," Sam says, as he tucks away the stylus, and links the pad back to his belt. "All right, I'm spottin'!" He strides ahead of the power loader. An old man sitting on a bench looks up from his roll-pad (a roll-out "soft" media tablet that folds out to a flat surface and displays a multi-media equivalent of a newspaper, with less interactivity than a true remote PC) to watch the goings-on.

"I don't know about you but I plan to cordon the area off and clear people off on grounds of a crime scene investigation," says Randall as he walks over to drop off the food and drinks. "Pastrami for Jason, turkey for Holly, and ah, roast beef for me."

"I'm not implying it at all," Holly notes, looking at her sandwich. "You got these from the IHOF, right?" she asks Randall.

"Meep!" says the labor-bot - a humanoid, only vaguely man-shaped construction - as it trundles over toward Jason. "Customer identified. Please sign to show receipt of delivery, and indicate deposit point." It regards him with its cyclopean camera eye. Some joker has taped on a piece of stim-sheet underneath the camera that has a goofy, cartoony smile.

RIU, meanwhile, swims about, curiously inspecting the park now that it's far more active than before (and has far fewer bugs to snatch out of the air).

Holly nibbles while watching Jason mutilate the aerodynamics of her car. "You've turned into a giant flying bug-zapper," she comments.

Jason takes the pen and signs the indicated spot and also affixes a thumbprint for verification. "Pleasure doing business with you," he tells the bot, then indicates a point about ten feed from the gazebo stairway. "Put it there and angle it so it aims into the gazebo, please."

The police officer munches on his sandwich, conscious that the period of respite they're enjoying is only temporary. "Y'know, I think we should tip the kids off that there's going to be a premature breakout," he murmurs quietly to Holly and Jason.

As Jason takes the sandwich, he remarks jokingly, "I was going to ask where the condiments were ... but Cranston can just squeeze some out of his mustache. Jeeze, use a napkin!" To Holly, he remarks, "We know where their school is."

"Hey, watch it!" Sam calls out to the labor-bot, as he sets up the package - which has been divided into four tower-like structures, at the corners of an imaginary square surrounding the gazebo. "Here, lemme ... over here, otherwise it'll get knocked over...."

"That's the last one, Sam!" Joe calls out, as he walks his power-loader back to the Indoors-Outdoors delivery van.

"Check the bag," Randall says cheerily, disregarding the crack about his mustache. He goes to supervise the operation, reminding them not to erect the tent just yet - just make it so they can do it on command.

"With one headlight," the guitarist sings, still over near the fountain. Most of his song is lost in the rest of the noise going on, but from the snippets, it sounds like a real oldie.

Sam makes a gesture as if dusting off his hands, and then turns about to face the officer as he comes up. "All set! Just make sure it's all clear. Any obstructions, and the safeties should stop it ... but don't take any chances, hey?"

Jason holds is sandwich in his mouth for a minute as he finishes wiring up a couple of the small UV 'heat lamps' they purchased for the car. "THth shouhth overlo..." he starts to say, then pulls the sandwich out. "This shouldn't overload the car electrical system. Not as much portable power as I would like, but ... y'know. Not a lot of time to go scrounging."

The cart-bot and the labor-bot finish their work about this time, and roll and lumber (respectively) back to their van, where the driver waits with his cap pulled over his eyes - sneaking a quick nap while his bots do the work under his "supervision."

Randall smiles. "You folks do good work. I'll make sure the area's clear." Sandwich in one hand, he extracts the roll of police tape, then goes to start cordoning off a wide area around the tent, with an odd sense of deja vu.

A few kids squeal at the sight of the little dragon, and chase after it. The dragon is a good sport about it, and does a few loop-the-loops and somersaults, to the delight of the children.

Holly turns away from the playground finally, and quietly says, "The kids are all sims. Maybe four different models repeated with gender and ethnicity mods, but behavior isn't very diverse. Same goes for most of the people we've seen around town. The five kids and us are probably the only real people."

The mothers don't seem to be particularly alarmed at all; rather they just mouth "oh," and point, but seem to regard it as just a very interesting pet or toy that has shown up.

"I'm not certain Inari isn't a real person," Jason remarks, "One who has gone berserk. Randall, want to see if you could get a message announced at North Bend High? Something that would imply shadows in the park? Maybe some sort of warning, so the kids get curious."

"Let's set this up to go down at 3 o' clock, that'll give us time to get a message passed in," Randall says over his wrist-PDA as he continues cordoning off a wide space around the tent. "Jason, when you get done on the car, can you rig the tent to collapse on a radio signal?"

"And they may be sims, but... I don't want to endanger them unnecessarily," adds the police officer's somber voice.

"Easily. It's a basic relay system," Jason remarks as he tinkers. "Providing there are no EM pulses, I don't see why it would have a problem. I'll get to it in ten minutes." He throws the wrapper from his sandwich at Holly.

"Wait.. wasn't there an EM pulse when the portal opened on us at the Arcade?" Holly asks.

"Yes, but give me credit. My equipment still worked. I'm not some simple dime a dozen crap manufacturer," Jason points out. "I leave that sort of production to corporations."

Randall continues to string up 'POLICE LINE - DO NOT CROSS' tape around the tent's area. He finishes off his sandwich as he goes, then wipes his hand on his pant leg. "All right, I'll leave that in your capable hands, Jason. I'll talk to the school administration and ask them to pass a message on to some of their students."

Later, it's just a little before 3:00 pm. The preschoolers and their moms are gone, the old man has moved along, though the guitarist is still there, and there's some fellow trying to catch a nap on a bench.

Jason briefly debates asking RIU to steal the sleeping man's pants and run off with them to lure him out, but then decides against it. Instead, he seems inclined to pace and look generally nervous.

Randall returns on his airbike. Catching sight of the guitarist, he thinks of the megaphone at first, then decides on gentler measures - after all, there are only a couple of people here. He swipes his card to donate a healthy amount to the man. "I'm sorry, sir, but I'm going to have to ask you to evacuate the park. We're clearing the area. There's been a crime threat phoned in."

The man's brief smile quickly turns to surprise, and he quickly stops. He picks up his hat, stuffs the swiper in his pocket, and parks the hat in its proper place on his crown. "Th-thanks, officer," he says, as the light "strings" vanish while he powers down the guitar and makes haste out of the park.

Randall says quietly into his wrist PDA, "Company. Be ready." In a mouch louder voice, he reaches down to wake the sleeper. "Police, sir. We're clearing the area. Got a terrorist threat phoned in. Please evacuate."

"Mrph - mmph - TERRORISTS?" The man's arms flail about, and he tumbles out of the bench. "Huh - wha ... Police? Oh! Oh! Sorry, officer. I wasn't exactly horizontal, you see. I mean, not for long. Or, didn't mean to. Just got a little dozy under the bright sun, you know. Just ... just moving along, officer. Moving along!"

"That's bad," Jason says grimly into his radio. He sighs and runs his hands through his hair. "Keep watch for Inari," he informs RIU.

The schoolgirl steps into view - or, that is, into view for Jason and Holly, from around a tree near the bench.

RIU sends its master a sort of mental "ping," seeming to serve as acknowledgement.

Randall smiles and nods to Akiko. "G'afternoon, miss. I'm going to have to ask you to clear the park, we've received a report of a terrorist threat."

"She's actually the youngest of them, in real years, I think," Holly comments. "And her Guardian seems the smartest."

"All right, sir, but you should know, some of my classmates are coming down this way," Akiko says. "I don't know what's going on, but they should be here any minute now. Just thought ... you might want to know."

Randall grimaces. "Thank you, Akiko, can you pass the word along and let them know to hang back? This area could be very dangerous soon."

"Has the day been okay, I hope?" Jason calls out to Akiko. "Nothing strange happened? Well, other than now, that is."

"You're letting personal issues with her cloud your judgment," Jason remarks to Holly.

"Doesn't mean you are, either," Jason remarks back with a shrug. "Everyone in here is a victim."

Akiko nods, glances over toward Jason, then says, in a low voice, "I'll make sure they are warned, if that's what you wish. But if they ignore the warning, please don't say anything about me. It could cause trouble."

"Akiko, wait," Jason says and now walks towards the girl. "Can you tell us something? What happened between you and them? I get the feeling ... they hate or are afraid of you? And frankly, you have seemed ... scared."

"Please don't concern yourself," Akiko says. "It's just ... you know how teenagers are, right?" She gives a fake-looking smile.

"Some people just don't react well when you tell them things they don't want to hear," Akiko says, looking off into space.

Randall takes another survey of the park, looking to see if he missed anyone. "Thank you, miss. I appreciate your help. If you need to contact me, I'm Officer Randall Cranston, NYPD, Marge should be able to pass the message on." He gives Jason a warning look. "Let's respect Miss Summers' desires, Jason."

"What did you tell them?" Jason asks, "That ... this isn't really where they should be?"

"Teenagers and some adults," Holly agrees. "I wish I'd actually played the game with Tracy now."

"Some days you are a real pain in the shorts, Cranston. You had better hope your sense of honor and justice doesn't get us killed, or worse," Jason mutters as Akiko turns to leave. "I'm going to go check the relays again."

Randall slips back onto his bike, having verified there's no one around. Once Jason's ready and they are in place, he nods to himself, then speaks into the radio. "Cue the Haunted House."