Phineas meaders back towards his tent, wondering what's up with Michael's headbusting in the dreamlands.
At Phineas' tent, there is indeed a message, with Michael's seal in the corner. As ever, it looks to have been written in haste, if also in elegance.
Phineas sits down, lights a lamp and reads the left note. He's dutiful if nothing else.
The message reads : "Investigate Plague situation below - use situation to also continue monitoring local angels, as reprisal expected. Also watch your own ass. Note - Fallen of War, Caliah, now Habbalite of the War, thought active, alias Cecilia."
Phineas folds up the note, and lights it on fire in the lamp. No evidence and all that. He then puts on his togs and prepares to descend back to Earth.
The locus for the DC Tether is comparatively close, in the great camp of Michaelite tents. It is manifest as a stone arch, guarded by a Cherub with a couple of relievers.
Phineas waves to the Cherub, "I gotta go back down. Boss's orders."
The Cherub nods, and growls, "Best of luck."
Phineas smiles a little, "Thanks, I'll need it." He then steps to the tether and does whatever it is that Angels do when they shoop from Celestial to Corporeal.
Phineas feels his corporeal body close around him as he descends, stepping onto the earth in the shadow of the Marine Corps Monument, his bright wings gone.
It is early afternoon, the sunlight bright on the glass windows of shops and passing cars.
Phineas takes a deep breath, good to be back. He looks around for Ardon.
Ardon is visible to one side, explaining to a mother with a wailing six-year-old that yes, being exposed to stories about the courage of those for whom this monument was built will do the child _wonders_.
Ardon extricates himself, heading Phineaswards.
Phineas grins at Ardon, and extends his hand to the man, "Good to see you again, my friend. How're things going down here?"
Ardon returns a firm manly handshake. "Quite peaceful, really. Well, for the most part. Monday night we had that explosion at John Hopkins Laboratory, and there was some sort of human sacrifice or murder at the Freer Gallery. Nothing really since."
Phineas frowns a little then shrugs, "I'm supposed to go down into the sewers and poke about. Also keep an eye out for a Fallen, and watch for reprisals against other Angels." He rubs his chin, "You know anyone that knows the Down Below well?"
Ardon looks thoughtful.
Ardon says, "When you say, The Down Below, you do mean the sewers here, right, and not Hell?"
Phineas nods, "Yeah."
<
Phineas says "I only just narrowly avoiding the other down below recently. Some friends of mine
were captured. Almost had to go play hero .. really not my style."
Ardon says, "I'm not sure offhand, but let me check around and see what I can find..." He blinks.
"By the name of War, you don't mess around, do you?"
Phineas shrugs, "I'd like to, but I haven't been given much choice." He grins, "By the way, you're
supposed to ask me how things are going, so I can gloat."
Ardon chuckles, then smooths his face over. "How are things going, Phineas?"
<
Phineas looks more serious, clearly acting the part, "Well, not too shabby. After running into a
faux-heaven in the dreamlands, and having to try to stop a horde of demons, I invoked Michael
and he saved the day. He was so pleased with us, he gave the others tokens of his admiration, and
promoted me. I'm a Vassal now."
Phineas finally breaks his serious look and grins like a child at christmas.
Ardon blinks. Three times.
Ardon steps forward, and clasps Phineas by the shoulders. "Well *done*, brother!"
Phineas grins, "Hey, I was just doing my job. You'd have done the same. I can't imagine having
anyone else as a Superior, you know? He's so .. well .. I mean when he's pleased with you .. it is
like God himself smiling at you. It makes me feel all warm and special inside."
Ardon smiles, his face unguarded and open. "I know. I remember his face, his smile, when he
made me Seneschal here. It was ..." he considers. "It was an affirmation. It was light."
Phineas nods and sighs, a darkness coming over his face, "Makes me wonder how anyone could
Fall. All I want to do is make him proud of me .. and when he is .. I know it was what I was
created for. Makes me whole."
Ardon's face shadows, and he turns away to look out at the square.
Ardon says, voice harsh, "Doubt, perhaps. Or lies. A lack of certainty. A mistaken belief.
Arrogance. Bitterness. A twisting of the soul." He pauses. "I do not _want_ to understand
that."
Ardon says, "Did you say you were chasing a Fallen too?"
Phineas says as he too looks out at the square, "There's one out there, I'm sure she wants to get
back at me. Caliah. If you can find anything out about her for me, I'd appreciate it. She and her
goons shot at me once, when I appropriated that notebook from the movie studio."
<
Ardon nods. "I'll check with friends, see if anybody knows anything about her. Who did she Fall
to?"
Phineas says "The War. She was one of us."
Ardon sighs. His voice has the ring of a Seraph hearing Truth, as he murmurs, "She was lied
to."
Phineas says simply, "How?"
Ardon says, "A Balseraph of the War. The Symphony tells me no more."
Phineas nods, "Perhaps I can confront her with it, if we meet. Give her a chance at
redemption."
Ardon says, "Be careful, if you do. The Habbalah are always deluded."
Phineas nods, "I know." He shrugs, "Well, you know my number. Call me if you find anything
out. I need to get back to my apartment and make sure my landlady didn't re-rent the place while
I was gone. How long was I gone, anyway?"
Ardon says, "You went on Monday. It's Wednesday afternoon now. I doubt she's rented it out
yet."
<
<
Phineas nods, "True enough. I lose track of time when I'm in the dream lands."
<
Ardon says, "I think we all do, except for the Servitors of Dream." He chuckles. "I suppose they
need _some_ advantages."
Phineas smirks, "Aron has more than enough. I really don't like that place. Makes me feel like I
was newly created."
Ardon nods. "I'll stick where my experience is." He touches the side of the Monument. "And my
Word."
Phineas tilts his head, "You have a Word? Do tell."
Ardon strokes the side of the Monument again. "My Tether is my Word."
<
<
Phineas smiles and pats Ardon on the shoulder, "And it is a fine Monument." He checks his watch
and looks towards the subway station, "I should get going. Remember, call if you find anything
out. I'm going to head to the city planners office and see if I can't convince them into giving me
a guide or a map."
Ardon nods. "I'll see what I can manage this end. Best of luck."
Phineas strides off towards the subway, hands in his trouser pockets, "Thanks. I'll need it."
Nobody ambushes Phineas on the way to the subway.
Phineas hops onto the subway, takes it back to his apartment. He checks on his car and his pad,
making sure everything is still in order.
All is in order. His apartment is quiet and peaceful. The landlady has not tried to rent it out.
On the way between the subway and his apartment, there were the signs of some sort of accident.
Broken glass in the road, a police car leaving, local children poking around among the small set
of trees to one side that had clearly been run into.
Phineas hrms at the accident. He gets in his car and drives downtown, to the city planners
office.
As he drives off, there is the sound of a shriek from behind him.
Phineas stops his car and looks in his rearview mirror.
One of the children is running out from between the trees, waving what looks like the arm of a
shop window dummy. He's yelling at the other kid, "I'm a zommmmmbie! I'm gonna killlll
you!"
Phineas takes a deep breath, steadying his heart. Just children playing games .. relax. He puts the
car back into gear, looking into the mirror one last time.
The children are still running around, shrieking at each other. The arm bends convincingly at the
elbow as one child wallops another with it.
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Phineas stops the car, turning off the ignition. He gets out of the car and walks towards the
children, preparing to scold them for playing so close to the street.
The children are playing tug-of-war with the arm, and don't notice Phineas till he is close to them.
The one who is hanging onto the arm most strongly has a few minor cuts on his arms.
The children turn, nervously, at this Approaching Adult.
Phineas looks down at the arm for a moment before saying to the children, "You kids should be
more careful. You're playing awfully close to the street."
The arm is pale. Bloodless. Looks as if it could be a shop dummy arm. Except it looks ... flexible
... at the elbow, wrist, and fingers. And there's some sort of discoloration or mark on the forearm.
The shoulder is hidden by a child's grip.
The children shuffle their feet. One Asian boy says, "Sorry, mister."
Phineas kneels down, to get on the same level as the children, "Where'd you get that nifty arm,
and can I see it a moment?" He smiles disarmingly. He likes children.
<
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The children look at each other, then giggle shamefacedly. The two with the major grip on the
arm offer it towards Phineas.
Phineas takes the arm and examines it. Especially the stump-end.
On closer examination, the arm has ... pores. And the shoulder looks like a neat amputation,
possibly using a bone saw. The entire arm is mostly rigid, and still bone-cold, as though recently
deep-frozen. The mark on the forearm is an octagon brand.
The children watch, nudging each other from time to time. One says, "It came from one of the
vans that crashed."
Phineas frowns a little then reaches into his pocket, "Tell you what, kids. Why don't you tell me
where you got this, and I'll buy you all ice-cream from the store on the corner."
<
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<
The children begin to look a bit more nervous. The Asian boy says, "There were these two vans
that crashed, see, mister? There was a cop car there too. One of them went into the trees." He
nods at the trees.
The boy says, "They had a broken window. They must have been carrying window dummies,
because we found that there."
Phineas looks over at the area, "That would explain the damage and the glass." He says to the
children, "Can I keep the arm? I'll trade ya for it."
The boy squints. "Is it valuable?"
Phineas shrugs, "I should give it back to the people who were in the van. It is the right thing to
do."
Phineas says "It was theirs, after all."
<
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<
The children shuffle their feet, but don't really have an answer to that.
<
Phineas smiles, "It would be like stealing, if you kept it. And you're all good kids and wouldn't
want to steal, would you?"
<
The children state, "Of course not!" in varying degrees of honesty.
Phineas says, "But, I'll tell you what. For being so honest, I'll give you a reward. How's a dollar
each sound?"
There is a mutter of, "Meanie," from behind. The Asian boy says, "It costs one dollar fifty for
icecreams."
Phineas grins, "Alright, two dollars then. You drive a hard bargain."
The boy grins. Clearly this is better than he had hoped for. There is a rush of children - six in all
- proffering sweaty little hands for money.
Phineas reaches into his pocket and takes out his billfold, giving each child two dollars.
"Remember this, kids. You only got this for being honest and not stealing." Once it is all divvied
out, he shooes them off, "Now, go get some candy and enjoy it."
The children run off, giggling and shoving at each other.
Phineas goes to his car, but first marks down the address of the building that was nearest to the
accident.
Nobody interferes.
Phineas gets in his car, and drives to the local police precinct. He stores the severed arm in the
trunk, under the mat where the spare tire is kept.
The local police station is easily found. It is as busy as police stations normally are. It is now
mid/late afternoon.
Phineas pulls up, and goes in, looking for the desk sgt. "I need to speak to someone about an
accident that took place. The address is--" And he gives the address of the incident.
The desk sergeant checks some notes behind the desk. "Sure, sir. Can I ask what the problem
is?"
Phineas says "I've been appointed the task of finding out who was involved in the accident so an
insurance claim can be followed."
The desk sergeant nods. "Insurance, right. Can I see your card?"
Phineas shakes his head, "I'm not with the insurance company. I'm a private investigator, of a sort.
See, the woman who lives there is a friend, and elderly. She's such a nice old lady, I'd hate to see
her taken advantage of. So, I told her I'd take care of getting all the information so she can
properly file a claim. If we don't get the names of the owners of those vans, they'll turn down her
claim."
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The desk sergeant clearly buys this line of BS entire. "Sure. Those insurance companies, they're
right bastards, aren't they?" He leans beneath the desk to find some more files.
<
Phineas nods, "Down to a man." He smiles, "I appreciate this, sgt. I'm sure she will too. She
makes the best chocolate chip cookies." He waits while he fetches the files.
<
The sergeant opens one brown-paper file, and runs a thick finger down the page. "All right. You
want to be taking this down?"
Phineas takes out his notepad from his jacket and his pen. He prepares to write whatever the man
says.
The sergeant pauses. "You'd better give me the lady's name, too, for the record."
Phineas nods, "Mabel Johnson. I think she's 76, but she could be older. I've never asked."
The sergeant nods. "Okay. The vans were Belle's Hairdressing, with a load of supplies, driver
Duncan Jefferson, and Amirstan Restaurant, with supplies, driver Jane Doveson."
Phineas says "Any other info? License plates, insurance company?"
The sergeant rattles off insurance numbers and license plates for both vans.
Phineas smiles and looks at the sarge's badge, "I just want your name so Mabel knows who to
send the cookies to." He winks at the sgt and closes his notepad, "Thanks a lot, sir. You've been
very helpful."
The sergeant's name is Johann Peters. He nods, in a friendly way. "Thanks. Good to know there
are some people out there still willing to lend a hand."
Phineas smiles, "More than you know of, sir." He nods his head and leaves, content at the
information he got. He pulls out his cell phone and dials information, "Yes, can I get the number
for Belle's Hairdressing?"
Information helpfully supplies the phone number.
Phineas dials the number and waits for the receptionist to pick up.
The receptionist picks up rapidly. "Good afternoon, Belle's Hairdressing here."
Phineas says into his phone as he slides into his car, "Yes, I'd like to make an appointment, where
is your store located?"
The receptionist gives an address in Dupont Circle. "What sort of cut would you like, sir? And
with which of our stylists?"
Phineas says "Well, I'll have to check my schedule. I'll call back in a few minutes, ok?" With that,
he hangs up and calls information again, to get similar information from Amirstan Restaurant. Just
a phone # and address.
The phone number can be obtained from Information, and the address is in Adams-Morgan, in
northwest DC.
---