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Post by Smoothie on Aug 11, 2006 10:08:39 GMT
[This follows chronologically from The Good Old Days, though after some time has passed.]
Nicolai Rescu had just attended a dinner with his glorious leader Nicolai Ceaucescu and some of his advisors. He had been excited and greatful for the invitiation, but was initially startled and remained somewhat confused by the man. The leader of his country seemed completely out of touch with what is going on within his own boarders. It made him feel very uneasy.
It didn't seem to bother or surprise any of the others, in fact, hadn't they laughed even harder when he had failed to understand their subtle jokes about how happy (or unhappy) the people are?
Was it senility? Was he drugged or was this some kind of test or ruse?
Why was I invited anyway?
These questions made him feel even more uneasy...
The meeting had broken up and people had gone about their business.
Nicolai started to head back to his car...
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Post by Storyteller on Aug 18, 2006 9:04:19 GMT
You've reached your car, and have you hand on the door handle, when you hear the voice.
"Nikolai!"
You stop, and turn. The man approaching you you recognise. He's Aleister, one of Ceaucescu's aides. He certainly came across very strongly in the dinner, in fact, he seemed a little more in control than Ceaucescu himself.
By the time you've though all this, he's reached you.
"I was wondering if you could give me a lift."
You strongly doubt that Aleister doesn't have his own car, or couldn't procure some other form of transport just as easily, so you're immediate on your guard. There must be another reason for him singling out you. Perhaps it is the same reason as you were invited.
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Post by Smoothie on Aug 19, 2006 1:07:46 GMT
Was tonight's dinner my Kiss of Death? Surely I am not important enough to receive it from Ceaucescu himself and I really can't see that I've made any mistake, so what then is it? Will I learn why everything seemed so strange during dinner?
...I suspect I'm about to find out!
"Of course, comrade Aleister, it would be my pleasure!" Nicolai opened the passenger door for him before letting himself in. He started the car and let it warm up, using his routine to hide his anxiety, he turned on the heater and wiped the condensation from the windows with a clean towel. With his routine completed, he felt better. "Where can I take you?" he finally asked.
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Post by Storyteller on Aug 20, 2006 10:12:10 GMT
Aleister gives an address some distance away. Whatever he wants, he's got the time to get it.
You've been driving in a comfortable silence for about 5 minutes before he speaks again, it snatches you away from your, admittedly slightly paranoid, train of though. In these times, however, paranoia is exactly what you need to survive.
"Did you enjoy the dinner?"
A fairly nonchalent question, though you're sure it veils something else, or, at least, precludes it.
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Post by Smoothie on Aug 21, 2006 13:40:08 GMT
Nicolai paused a moment. "It was ...interesting. A little surprising." He knew something is coming, but he waited for Aleister to dole out the information at his own pace.
Better not to ask too many questions. Questions often give away more than they gain.
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Post by Storyteller on Aug 21, 2006 20:27:24 GMT
Aleister grins to himself, looking straight ahead, not at you. He pauses for a minute, and you take in his face. Are his features looking drawn and stretched? Or is it the light...or something else?
He finally turns to you.
"And? What did you think?"
You hesitate, pretty sure what he means, but unwilling to say it outright, for fear of being wrong.
"Of Ceaucescu?" He clarifies, taking in your reaction.
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Post by Smoothie on Aug 22, 2006 15:00:15 GMT
Another pause.
No sense in denying it.
"He seemed like a shell of a man, ...hollow, ...not our leader."
Wic paused again, he felt something inside, felt a bit of anger at the humiliation of a man he had believed he followed. He vented his anger quickly, gripping the steering wheel and accelerating, "He was the butt of jokes!"
Then he calms, as the wheels squeal around a corner. There is something going on here, something they may let me in on if I do not insult this man.
He sighed, "So, Comrade Aleister, whose orders am I really taking?"
Good, let them know I am still with them. ...I shall worry about the truth of that later.
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Post by Storyteller on Aug 23, 2006 15:29:10 GMT
Aleister chuckles, just long enough to be disconcerting to you.
"You are perceptive Nikolai. I understand what a shock tonight will have come to you, thinking you understood so much, and seeing it shattered, but, have no fear."
"You've seen a little into the dark, and you wish to start shedding some light, on what there really is there. Light will come, in time, but first, you need to step further into the dark."
He indicates the kerb up ahead.
"Here will do fine for me."
You note that it's nowhere near the address he gave you, but pull up anyway. Aleister takes a business card from his jacket, and hands it to you.
"Visit here, when you are ready to start walking in the dark. Not tonight, if you please, but another night. You have proved yourself, Nikolai, and it's now in your hands."
"Thanks for the ride."
He gets out of the car, and steps onto the kerb. You look down at the business card. It's plain white, with an address written on it, no name. You don't recognise the address, but you recognise the area, a rather run-down part of the city. As you pocket it, you look up, to watch Aleister go, but he's already disappeared.
Well...that was interesting.
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Post by Storyteller on Aug 25, 2006 10:19:40 GMT
((S'update))
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Post by Smoothie on Aug 25, 2006 23:16:36 GMT
Nicolai drove off into the night, his surprise and disappointment now being replaced by curiosity and excitement. The prospect of learning the truth, even that there was a hidden truth to learn, was too intriguing to let him sleep. He laid in bed and didn't sleep until the light of dawn found its way to his window-blinds.
***
Nicolai did not want to seem too eager, but it was 10pm when he could delay no longer. A few days wait would be better, but what the Hell, it would serve no real point.
He drove across town, in his leisurely way of driving, slowly hunting for the address on the card.
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Post by Storyteller on Sept 1, 2006 10:05:58 GMT
You're driving for a while - you discover the place isn't as easy to find as you first thought, and all the time, your anxiety and excitement are growing.
Finally, you see it. There's nowhere suitable to park nearby, so you have to drive out a bit, and it becomes a 10 minute walk back again.
Finally, you stand outside, and look at the 'house'.
It's a more than a bit shabby and run down, and you're pretty sure that the door would fall off if you so much as knocked. Grey is the principle colour, with crumbling stone all of the front edifice, crammed between two other, similarly run down, buildings.
For a second, you think you spot someone through one of the dirty, dark, upper windows, but there's no-one there when you look again.
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Post by Smoothie on Sept 1, 2006 12:03:14 GMT
Imagining a high-tech or luxury basement--or better yet--a deeper fallout shelter, Nicolai approached the rickety door.
After a few steps he was thinking that this may be a safe-house of some kind. In any event he felt strongly that he belonged here. He wassn't sure what that meant yet, no idea what belonging here meant, nevertheless he believed it.
He continued up the walkway to the porch, hesitated a moment at the door and listened before knocking.
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Post by Storyteller on Sept 3, 2006 21:27:27 GMT
You think you can here the buzz of voices in the distance beyond the door, but you're not sure.
Carefully knocking, you keep listening. You hear approaching footsteps, solid and steady, and finally, the door opens.
A man in a suit stands there, his young, pale face smiling in welcome.
He extends a hand towards you, the other swinging wide, indicating the narrow hallway behind him.
"You must be Nikolai. Come in."
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Post by Smoothie on Sept 4, 2006 9:00:41 GMT
Wic straightened the party pin on his lapel just before the door opened. It took him three tries to tie the tie right, but he would get it right if it took him fifty times. That's just the kind of guy he was. Now he figured it was about to pay off.
Accepting the invitation, Nicolai stepped in and took the man's hand in a firm grasp, just a hint of a shake. He spoke with a warm smile, "I am, comrade, thank you. I am pleased to be here. And you are?"
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Post by Storyteller on Sept 5, 2006 20:33:24 GMT
"Sebastian Benito."
Not a Romanian name, you note, as he releases his grip, and closes the front door behind you.
"Follow me please."
He turns, and walks down the corridor, which isn't totally straight, though it looks more an accident of poor architecture than intentional design.
He takes the third door on the left, and you follow him, pausing on the threshold, to take in the new room.
It's a small, almost cosy living room, with a fire burning. Three worn-leather armchairs are arranged in a rough circle, by the fire. A small window at the back looks out on a patch of grass, at foot level.
Sebastian moves towards the middle of the room, resting his arm on one of the chairs, and turning to you.
"Please, be seated."
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