Action, Adventure, Excitement, Part 9: Various Adventures
                           Chapter 3 - Tink

Subject: AAE9v: Touchstones

On Fri, 30 Apr 2004 20:37:26 -0400
Mike Knight Said As CAoL Message # 00012088

   Rio de Janeiro, famous for its beaches, tropical climate, tourism,
and Carnival, Hollywood hotspot from the 1920s to the 1950s, infamous
for its slums and crime, was never the safest place to be. Its beaches
were crowded with people from all walks of life; some with money and
some without, some looking to alter whichever condition their wallet
happened to be in through stealing, buying or selling whatever
interested them, things like souvenirs, sex or drugs, or simply
trading exotic diseases. Surrounded by slums, Rio somehow still
managed to be the trendiest spot in Brazil, the place for the most
fashionable to congregate. And, the travel guides noted, after
detailing this mixed bag of statements and looking to try and end on a
positive note, it seemed to be improving since the UN's 1992 Eco
summit had been held there.
   Of course, this was before the Gaunt Man decided to put his own
touches to this tropical resort town.
   [The sun's setting in entirely the wrong direction,] Tink noted to
herself as she lay back on the silvery towel on the crowded Copacabana
Beach. Her shimmering gold one-piece swimsuit was an attractive accent
to her own golden skin and platinum blonde hair, silver mirrored
sunglasses hiding her silver-gray eyes, which were watching an
unsavory man staring at her down the beach.
   [No staring at the fifteen-year-old,] Tink thought, and the force
of it caused him to look away instinctively, never realizing she'd
pushed him to, [Didn't like the look Granny Goodness gave us kids,
either. Hopefully, Uncle Nemo is doing something constructive with
her. Had David not been with me, I'd have probably opted for
destructive.]
   The mention of David stirred something in her mind and Tink
vanished from the beach, blanket and all, with nary a sight or sound.
   Tink awoke for a moment, in her room. Her room was actually a
tesseract, a bubble of hyperspace, a dimension all her own, currently
a haven for various strange and exotic marine life, swimming in
crystal blue water beyond the clear, glass walls, ceiling and floor.
Some techno music or other was playing quietly over hidden speakers;
she'd selected a chillout mix to help her and David sleep.
   David was curled up under the covers next to Tink. She'd set a
wake-up call for when her family returned and put David down for a
nap, then fell asleep herself, still fretting over events on Earth-9.
Tink put an arm protectively over the sleeping toddler, then drifted
back into her own dreams.
   Darkness was falling in Rio, and Tink found herself emerging from a
crowd gathered on the Copacabana Mosaic, a black, white and red tiled
series of sidewalks wider than the avenue running between them and the
beach itself. She tied her towel around her waist like a skirt and
hung her sunglasses from the neck of her swimsuit, lifting her long,
wet hair off her neck to chase the trapped heat away with the sea
breeze, and considered her options.
   [Coffee, definitely,] Tink thought, [One of these cafes will
suffice, then find the trouble in this town and prod it with a pointy
stick.]
   Tink ordered a cafezinho, an espresso-sized cup of strong, black
coffee that was extremely sweet, and considered her options.
   The hairs on the back of her neck stood up for some reason, and
Tink turned to see the man from the beach again. Up close, she
realized he wasn' t as bad as she had originally thought. Tall and
dark, with long, black hair and deep, black eyes, he smiled at her,
raising a cup of coffee like her own, then strolled over and sat down
at her table.
   "I couldn't help noticing you were alone on the beach, miss," he
said, giving her another warm smile, "A young lady such as you should
be careful."
   He spoke Portuguese, but so did she.
   "I'm always very careful," Tink replied, blushing. His look was
somewhat intense, but still warm. Passionate, she realized, but not
about her safety.
   "Even so, I would offer myself as escort," he replied, "A young
woman, even a carioca like you, should not be alone."
   Tink blushed, "I'm not a local, just a gringo."
   "Then I feel honor-bound to act as escort and guide for the
evening," he said, flashing that smile again, "If you will have me,
that is. I assure you, I am not interested in anything unseemly."
   Tink smiled, taking another sip of coffee, "Alright then, what's
your name?"
   "Rodrigo," the man replied.
   "Tink," Tink said, finishing her coffee and standing, "Shall we
go?"
   Rodrigo smiled, quickly finishing his cup, and rose to his feet. He
extended his elbow and Tink took it, feeling the fine texture of the
gray linen under her fingers.
   "Yes, beautiful Tink, let's go."
   Rodrigo was as good as his word, showing Tink the beautiful places
of Rio between visits to beach parties, samba clubs, and finally a
bite to eat.
   As they left the restaurant, Rodrigo turned to her.
   "There is a church nearby I would like to show you, the
architecture is lovely when lit up at night. Then, there is a lovely
secluded beach where the sunrise is the most beautiful."
   "It sounds lovely," Tink said, taking his arm again. Rodrigo led
them down an alleyway, across an avenue, then down another alleyway.
By this time, Tink had become accustomed to this route, as it had
tended to be as direct as taking the streets. The steeple of the
church was visible at the end of the last alleyway and Rodrigo stopped
them there.
   "I find the view from here to be the most lovely, it lets you take
in the entire front of the church."
   Tink nodded, the lights on the Roman Catholic Church were indeed
spectacular. They stood gazing quietly for a few moments, then Rodrigo
excused himself.
   "The church is open in the evenings, and I would like to light a
candle for my grandmother, she is not well. Are you comfortable
waiting here?"
   "If you're comfortable with it, I'm sure it will be fine."
   Rodrigo nodded, smiling, "I will not be too long."
   He walked across the street and entered the church. Tink stood
waiting, but felt the hairs on the back of her neck rising again. She
looked around the alley but didn't see anything, nor up and down the
street.
   A flapping of wings and screeching drew her attention skyward.
Bats, hundreds of them swooped down on top of her. Tink covered her
face with her arms as pointed teeth bit into her skin. A sudden
paralysis came over her and she felt hands lifting her and bearing her
quickly away into the alleyway, down a side path, and shoving her into
the back of a van.
   The drive was rough, Rio de Janeiro's traffic was a study in chaos
theory, but Tink soon found herself being hauled out of the van, the
sound of surf rushing onto the beach.
   Still unable to move, she felt the many hands lay her on a hard
wooden surface and finally saw faces staring down at her. Cold,
calculating faces, pale and bloodless, with long pointed fangs. These
were faces of vampires and they watched her hungrily. But they backed
away and a new face intruded on her vision.
   It was Rodrigo. Not the attractive man she met at the café, the
creepy figure on the beach.
   "Did you think we wouldn't recognize you, my golden child of the
sun?" he asked with a terrible smile, "Such beautiful features, it is
a shame you must be sacrificed. Your blood will allow these fine
ladies and fellows to walk again in the sun. Or so the legends go.
Perhaps I shall make your sisters' acquaintance, they don't have your
youthful vitality, but their own golden features are almost as fine.
They will compliment my own nicely.
   "As the ritual goes, my friends," Rodrigo said, speaking over
Tink's head to the assemblage, "You must feed on her as bread and
wine. Sacrifice and sacrament, as child of the sun, she will guard you
from its rays. Now, as the sun's rays begin to lighten the sky, the
test will be at the end of the ceremony, when the sun shines on each
of you again, and you do not burn."
   Drums began to beat a rhythm as a deep chanting began, led by
Rodrigo himself. And as it reached a rapid crescendo and the dawn's
first light came to the sky, the entire vampire horde fell upon her
and feasted.
   Tink's eyes snapped open as she gasped. David shifted in his sleep
next to her, disturbed by her sudden start. She exhaled slowly, heart
still racing, and carefully got up so as not to wake the toddler.
   [What a dream,] she thought, going into the bathroom to splash some
water on her face. Fish swam by behind her as she looked into the
mirror. [And it was going pretty well, too, before then.]
   Still tired, she returned to bed, this time taking a few moments to
change into something more appropriate, her ankles having been a bit
sore from falling asleep with her shoes on.
   [Alright, brain, that was almost a good dream, don't let it get
gruesome like that again,] she scolded herself, settling in under the
covers. But sleep didn't come so easily this time, and then David woke
up and wanted to play, so Tink gave in and got back up to get on with
the day.
   And in Rio, Rodrigo frowned faintly, as the clan of vampires turned
to ash at dawn. He shrugged, checking his reflection in the mirror,
perfect as always, then got into the van and drove back to the church.
He wasn't sure what had gone wrong, but old legends were still
legends, and perhaps something about the Seven child had not made her
the ideal sacrifice after all.
   It had cost him a significant portion of his forces, but at least
it was one less obstacle in the way of the Gaunt Man.
   (OOC: To be continued, naturally...)

--
Tink
Dreams are the touchstones of our character. -- Henry David Thoreau
===========================

Subject: AAE9v: Touchstones (Part 2)

On Sat, 18 Sep 2004 21:38:11 +0100
Mike Knight Said As CAoL Message # 00012225

>On Fri, 30 Apr 2004 20:37:26 -0400
>Mike Knight Said As CAoL Message # 00012088
>
>     [Alright, brain, that was almost a good dream, don't let it get
>gruesome like that again,] she scolded herself, settling in under the
>covers. But sleep didn't come so easily this time, and then David
>woke up and wanted to play, so Tink gave in and got back up to get on
>with the day.
>     And in Rio, Rodrigo frowned faintly, as the clan of vampires
>turned to ash at dawn. He shrugged, checking his reflection in the
>mirror, perfect as always, then got into the van and drove back to
>the church. He wasn't sure what had gone wrong, but old legends were
>still legends, and perhaps something about the Seven child had not
>made her the ideal sacrifice after all.
>     It had cost him a significant portion of his forces, but at
>least it was one less obstacle in the way of the Gaunt Man.
>     (OOC: To be continued, naturally...)

     The church seemed to rise up before her, surrounded by a pleasant
enough neighborhood, but seemingly menaced by its theistic neighbor.
Tink felt herself pass through the church doors like a ghost through a
wall. The interior was foreboding, but without any physical threat in
sight. The feeling of dread seemed to be worse toward the floor, and
Tink felt it increase as she sank through it to the basement.
     Tink stood in a hall of mirrors. She turned to look to her left
and found her mothers reflected back at her, both armed with phaser
rifles and in their uniforms; Grep a nondescript outfit, barring a
Dorsai patch on one sleeve, Melissa in Galactic Patrol black and
silver. Grep turned to look at, through, and behind Tink and gave
something a small nod of acknowledgement. Tink turned to see Michael
Seven and Flarn; Michael with PPG, Flarn with Minbari fighting pike,
behind them was Gary Seven and Roberta and John Sheridan and Delenn.
Mike made a gesture to direct Tink's attention down the hallway she
had come to be standing in.
     Around the corner ahead, Tink saw a pair of eyes hidden in shadow
reflected in an angled mirror. The eyes were at least a head and a
half higher than she was tall, and they were joined by another pair,
then a third, and finally a fourth. They stepped out of the shadows
into a patch of light, four werewolves, a blend of man and wolf that
leaned more toward the wolf in face, but toward man in body, except
for the hair and claws. Their attire suggested the change was not so
much a matter of their bodies reforming into more animal appearance,
but simply growing taller and broader than their clothes would
generally allow.
     The werewolves growled as they made eye contact and stepped
around the corner menacingly. Tink reached out toward the mirrors on
either side of her and they cracked under her palms. The wolf-men
sensed she was up to something and charged. The mirrors under her
hands grew cracks along their lengths like spider's webs and within
them the reflections of her family began firing weapons.
     And as the beasts ahead of her roared in glee, about to grab her,
the mirrors along the hallway suddenly exploded from their frames in
fragments that homed in on them like guided missiles, even those
around the corner from which they'd come. Silver-backed glass shredded
their lupine forms, the largest pieces embedding themselves in the
hearts and heads of the creatures.
     Tink stepped over the prone forms, which had reverted to their
human shapes, rounded the corner and opened a door. The dread and
menace she felt grew stronger as she walked down a flight of stone
stairs. Here, the church, back when it had been constructed, kept food
and wine, gifts from the community and other things, which it wanted
to keep in a controlled climate. In recent times, it had been
converted to a home of decadence. This was the center of the psychic
emanations she'd been guided by.
     And in its center was Rodrigo, a picture of decadence in linen
and silk, a bottle of wine and two glasses in his hands. He smiled
oily and poured two glasses.
     "My darling Tinkerbell, you are perhaps the last person I was
expecting to see, but given I did not discover a corpse amidst the ash
of my vampire minions, I can't say I am too surprised. You came just
in time, my lupine companions have just retired after a long evening.
I heard a ruckus upstairs, I assume you met some of them. Would you
care for a glass of w--"
     Tinkerbell, who'd been grinding her teeth and clenching her
fists, interrupted him now, reaching out with a thought and pinching
his trachea closed. Rodrigo dropped the bottle and glassware, grabbing
for his throat. Tink rushed forward and with a violent twist broke his
neck.
     "Bastard," she spat, in a rare display of utter contempt.
     She stared at him a moment lying on the floor atop the broken
glass and puddle of red wine. The feeling of menace grew stronger, the
dread increasing, drawing her attention to a mirror on the wall. Tink
walked over to it and stared.
     In the mirror, Tink saw the room behind her, but no reflection of
herself. Instead, she saw Rodrigo's body get up off the floor, his
white shirt stained burgundy. His face was hideous, not the attractive
one she'd known the night before, nor the disturbing one she'd known
when she'd first seen him or when she'd seen him just now. He was
plainly hideous, covered in sores, ancient, bloody, broken and utterly
murderous in demeanor. It was matched by the rest of his body, covered
in blood, stabbed, shot, hung, poisoned perhaps, frostbitten, burnt
and twisted by broken bones.
     "Now, now, you should have a better vocabulary than that. Do you
like my mirror? The golden frame was crafted in Seville, as were its
contents," Rodrigo's mangled image seemed to say as he walked up
behind her. "I have no doubt that all that must hurt like the torment
of Hell itself. It certainly hurt when each of those injuries was
inflicted on me. Fortunately, I need not live with them, that's his
burden. I cannot be killed, you see. And with a life as wicked as
mine, I assure you, many have tried and regretted it. As you soon
will. "
     Tink turned to look at him. "Dorian Grey, I presume?"
     Rodrigo grabbed her roughly, "You won't live long enough to find
out. I'll have your liver for what you just did."
     But behind her, the mirror began to crack in the middle. Rodrigo
staggered, stumbling away from Tink and holding his stomach, as his
shirt turned bright red-brown and a putrid stench began to waft
through the room.
     Tink stepped out of the way of the mirror, the surface still
cracking as Rodrigo stared at his disfigured image. Each cracked piece
seemed to inflict the wound in the mirror onto Rodrigo. Like Wilde's
character, the mirror had been keeping Rodrigo young, inflicting his
image within its frame with all the pain and torture he'd been put
through over his lifetime. A minister initially, he'd broken the seven
deadly sins frequently, vanity most of all, thus the mirror. The
character in the Oscar Wilde story had been but a pale imitation of
the man before the young Time Lady, who'd recognized the resemblance
and chanced that the mirror's warped reflection had a similar weakness
to Grey's painting. And while Dorian had plunged a knife into his
painting, killing himself instead, Tink guessed that breaking the
mirror as she had upstairs would have the same lethal effect on the
mirror's owner.
     "Damn that playwright," Rodrigo spat, lunging toward Tink
suddenly, "And damn you, too!"
     The mirror exploded in a hail of fragments and impaled Rodrigo as
he turned to watch, his body now the grotesque figure he had mocked
earlier. He fell to the floor at Tink's feet, a rotting corpse; only
recognizable as a man by the clothes it wore.
     The ground under Tink's feet began to shake, dust falling around
her as she ran up the stone steps. It seemed the entire church was
going to come down around her with the destruction of the mirror and
Rodrigo's death. The menace and dread that had been haunting her was
gone and Tink felt a gladness of heart that seemed to come from an
entire city awaking on a bright, sunny morning after a bad dream had
been swept away.
     The floor above Tink's head collapsed as she ran through the hall
of mirrors, now holding only bodies and broken glass. She was knocked
to the floor under the weight of timber, masonry and a pew that had
happened to be over her head. As Tink tried to pull herself free, she
saw the entire building changing around her, a condemned church ready
for demolition. It had been held together by the same dark magic that
had held Rodrigo together and with Rodrigo's death; it was reverting
to its true form. Tink felt something strike her head.
     Tink sat up on the couch, holding her head. David was in his
playpen, giggling about something. On the floor was a leather-bound
book. As Tink watched, it whisked off the floor, went for her head
again, which she ducked, and replaced itself on the shelf.
     "Hey, David, don't' do that. You could just cry or something if
you want my attention."
     David just grinned at her, holding his arms up. Tink picked him
up.
     "Not like I was having a dream I was vanquishing bad guys or
something good like that."
     David looked at her sternly, [{Rodrigo/scary}]
     "Hey, no prying into other people's dreams, young man."
     And Rio, that plagued city, found its own nightmare over as
suddenly as it had come.

--
Tink
Dreams are the touchstones of our character. -- Henry David Thoreau
===========================