St. Pat's Crawl [March GM Event]

[Jack Diddly]

With the proprietor’s pronouncement to his staff to call the authorities, Jack wanted to split. It was a natural reaction for the young vampire, something left over from his days on the streets. Sometimes it was just more sensible to lay low. Besides how many hot wallets did he have tucked into his coat right now? Still the curious nature of the ongoing commotion commanded Jack’s attention. It wasn’t the spectacle that held him, but the information exchanged throughout it. What was this about the barkeep changing? The Party Crasher seemed to allude to a time when he had been more than human. Catching the word ‘evolved’ Jack could only assume that meant vampire. But that couldn’t be, could it? Death was a permanent state, albeit one that took multiple forms. The concept sounded as far fetched as the one being spewed about a zombie cure, but the man of Lancaster’s (who may have just been Lancaster) was clearly just that, a man. And one who seemed rather confused about the accusations being hurled his way at that.

What reasons would the Party Crasher have to fabricate these claims? It was apparent that we wasn’t the biggest fan of the barkeep, but still to make the heavy public declarations that he did, Jack was sure this guy could back them up. The young vampire’s eyes drifted towards the proprietor again. Was he truly a hunter? He had the stature to be, no doubt. Was tonight about nothing more than marking a few unsuspecting vampires? The blonde on his arm didn’t seem to think so. Jack wasn’t so naive as to think it not possible. Maybe he was some kind of Manchurian candidate...or maybe he was just a crafty cat.

Was he crazy or was the Party Crasher heading his way? The young vampire had thought the colossus of an immortal had been looking his way. ‘Jack, your palms…’, May’s voice tugged at his brain stem causing him to glance down. Seeing the few drops of blood on the ground below him...his blood...the allurist finally realized how deep he had been digging his nails into his palms. He opened his hands and the small wounds closed almost instantly. Upon his approach, Jack, who was taller than your average bear, looked diminutive under the towering vampire’s shadow. The Party Crasher held out a small card to him as the vampire’s voice rang out through his thoughts. Jack took the card from the man, examined it, and tipped his hat in gratitude to the Crasher. He would certainly have a lot of questions for Alex after the night was over.

There was confusion among much of the crowd. Some fled, others seemed to stay to support the zombie social justice warriors and others continued drinking as if nothing were happening...there were always a few. There was commotion from outside the Lancaster’s. Cries of dissent, outpourings for justice, and the sounds of Michael Jackson. Would they really be bringing zombies? Did they have a death wish? And from tonight’s main cast there was talk of militia heading to the bar. Jack wasn’t close enough to impose, but his preternatural hearing was certainly tuned into the main convo. Knowledge is power. Then a shrill whistle seemed to shoot through the ruckus like a bullet. Jack couldn’t help but turn his attention in that direction. It was Alex! And she did indeed seem quite familiar with the Crasher, calling him by name. It seemed that with zombies outside, military forces on the way, and nutty humans about Saint Paddy’s Day had the potential to gain massacre status. The young vampire hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but he’d be ready either way.

[Game Master]

The phones in the command post had been ringing off the hook for the past several hours as citizens were out en mass to celebrate the Irish holiday. Most were easily passed off to the local police to handle - drunk and disorderly's mainly with a few regarding inappropriate behavior.

That was until several calls came in in a short period about a disturbance over in Redwood at an Irish Pub there. Seems they were holding a party that had attracted a group of zombie rights activists. Shaking his head, the captain barked out orders for a couple soldiers to head over and get them to move along. They were welcome to their opinions, of course, but in the current situation in the city, protests were highly enticing zombie snacks.

It was several minutes later, during the flash mob, when the soldiers arrived on scene. A quick call was made back to command with an assessment of the situation before they approached the group. The soldier made the universal sign for the music to be cut, hoping that the group would comply. He waited a couple minutes before yelling, "Alright folks, let's move along and break it up. Go back to your partying or homes, but no more protesting! You're liable to become zombie chow that way and it's not pretty!"

Now all they could do was wait and see if people would disperse on their own or if there were going to be some arrests this evening.

[Lancaster]

There’d been protests before. Nothing concerned with Lancaster’s place of business – something small, once, concerning the fact that he served meat. He’d always gone out and talked to them, moved them on peacefully. Tonight, however, he was more concerned with the hulking vampire inside the bar. The one who seemed so concerned about Lancaster luring people out and putting them in danger; he ought to keep the vampire busy so that he didn’t go out and try ‘deal’ with the humans that were currently encouraging zombies to be brought to the protest. If this guy was so concerned about Lancaster’s apparent misdeeds, surely he’d disagree with the protesters, too.

It was Camden who beat Lancaster to the phone – not the police that he was going to call, but the militia. The pub was well-placed and Lancaster often took care of the soldiers, merely doing their job trying to keep violence to a minimum. One day he fully expected to be confronted by them given the actions of his Shade, but he’d been as honest with them as he tried to be with everyone else.

As he would be with this unreasonable idiot only now toting about being a ‘gentleman’. Lancaster scoffed. His response was delayed by the arrival of Alexandrea (whom Lancaster had not seen earlier, before she’d been doused in someone else’s drinks). Alexandrea seemed to know this hulking he-man, called him ‘Mord’. Still a name that Lancaster did not recognise, nor remember. At least, he hoped, Alexandrea could vouch for him in some way, shape or form. The two allurists weren’t, by any means, best friends. But they had history, and there was no bad blood.

”If you were a gentleman, you’d have approached me calmly to ask for a conversation rather than doing damage to my property and tossing corpses around. Which is it? Am I a fumbling idiot who has trouble hunting, or am I a vicious sneak who succeeds in leaving people – vampires included – bleeding and injured?” Lancaster asked. Insults flowed over him like water over a fish’s back, but these accusations just would not fly. He’d nodded as Camden told him about the militia on their way – in fact, could he hear them outside already? – and turned back to Mord. He shook his head.

”I’m not going outside with you. I have nothing to hide,” he said, voice rising so that those interested could, indeed, hear his story. It wouldn’t absolve him, in his own opinion, but it would at least help to spread the news. He’d not known how to properly spread the news before, but now he realised he had a platform. His own pub. Maybe it would ruin him. Or maybe it would only make it more popular. He could never know.

”Yes, I was evolved, as you put it. I was a vampire, once. I hated it. I hated that I could never see the sunlight, I hated that when I got angry, I had a violence in me that could rip a man’s head from his neck. That wasn’t me, I never asked for it. I never wanted it. I never accepted it. I have no idea what the **** you’re talking about when you say that I’m in bed with the fae. I have absolutely nothing to do with them – but I was there when the cure was found. I was offered said cure. I became a guinea pig. I am, for all intents and purposes, cured. You might think that makes me useless, but it makes me human, free of that violence. But if I’d known what the consequence was going to be, I’d never have done it. That thing that runs around attacking people, that’s not me. I’m not sure what your sources are, but he doesn’t attack vampires during the day when they’re sleeping, because he IS a vampire. He tries to come for me more than he does anyone else. He wears my face and my former rage and he uses it as revenge. I’m sorry for your friend, I truly am. By all means, go find the asshole and kill him—I’ve tried, it’s not easy. And before you come in here with your assumptions and your accusations, you really should try to get the full story. Get the information you need to really make a difference rather than make a nuisance of yourself. As per usual, you only prove that the majority of vampire-kind resort to violence first before they ever try using their words,” he said.

It was the longest speech he’d made all night; his voice retained its allurist charm, despite Lancaster being completely human. Pied-piper esque, those nearby couldn’t help but listen to the melodic rumble, humans tuned in.

”And you really should stop calling women conquests, mate. They aren’t trophies,” he added. Despite how tall he stood and how confident he appeared, deep down Lancaster was nervous. The cure was a huge deal, and the last thing he wanted was to be trapped in a lab again – and the next time might not be so cosy. But when it came down to it, he’d make the sacrifice if it meant ridding the world of his Shade.

[Beezus (DELETED 10273)]

Then there was a last minute distraction. As if there could possibly be one that could contend with all that was taking place… but there was. A flashing symbol caught her eye as she pulled her cell phone to investigate. Sure enough it was Snapper. It had been at least three months since she last heard from him but there was his signature text. The crazy ******** was alive and catching the feed. Not only that he was rolling towards the bar doors in a fully packed news van. The son of a ***** landed his camera job after all.

“Ramona get back in here and bring the rest. Snapper is coming in. News Five is in the house.” With the stuffing of two fingers the shrill of her sharp ear piercing talent for whistling was heard above the noise. “Once again coming to you live from Lancaster’s!” The cellphone went up and panned the interior and those within. Behind Beezus the chaos swelled up and rose like a wave set to rush in.

The doors stayed open as lights, Cameras and general action poured through the space nudging her to the side as the crowd roared in their protests and danced around her. Now the place was a buzzing with bodies wall to wall.

“That’s what you’re missing out on!” Beezus hopped up on a table top and started dancing. Any hands coming towards her were only effective in getting her to skip to the next table and continue her live feed. “H E L L N O! W E W O N ‘ T G O!”

And Beezus the Brave meant it. No suits, or orders were stopping her. Her one finger salute said as much.

[Mordechai]

One heterochromatic eye flicked to the side as his name was called over the crowds noise, accompanied by a shrill whistle. Blonde tresses bounced over bouncing curves to announce the arrival of an old friend, and the corners of his mouth quirked as he raised one hand in the direction of the vibrant allurist. One word slipped from his lips, not shouted, but the low gravel projected through the noise of the gathered throng, “Alex”. Unfortunately as Mr Dickens had noted long ago, there is a time for everything, and with the city under siege, this was not the time for dancing. Tipping his hat and fledgling in return of the man’s acknowledgement the killer returned his full attention to the most pressing threat, the traitor before him. Mordechai watched in amusement as the latest to fall for Lancaster’s supposed allure knelt behind his legs, as if that would make her invisible. It was becoming more than obvious that intellect was not a requirement for the Fae-spawned owner of this shithole on the wrong side of the tracks.
Mordechai slipped the Moto-g from his pocket and swung it wide, letting it gather the faces and bodies of the protestors, before sweeping it across the narcissist's face. Software would soon be comparing it to the numerous spools of security footage that had been collected in the wake of the multitude of attacks. A copy would be sent to the appropriate authorities, but it was doubtful if there would be anything left for them to find… Humans were oh so much easier to dispose of.

It a was a simple matter to listen in on the hurriedly whispered phone call despite the volume of the revelers and protestors. Humans were forever underestimating those that walked amongst them. The blonde was no different. The male that had answered sounded as though he was familiar with ‘Elliot’, a possible accomplice. This was filed away and uploaded to his servers along with the name ‘Brent’ from the militia, another that would bear looking into. As she stood and addressed him, her photo was added and uploaded along with the rest. The killers chuckle return as she proudly proclaimed her importance in being able to summon the militia, who were sure to be in for a surprise when they arrived to find the government soldiers already outside, and themselves with no authority, or capability to do anything. He would get names and faces though, and the more that were compiled, the easier it would be to determine who was involved in the attacks, and in promoting humans to wander the streets at night. The threats needed to be eliminated.. Shaking his head at her proclamation of Lancaster’s innocence was the final nail in her case, she truly was to ignorant to breed. “My dear, me thinks the lady doeth protest too much. You proclaim this man’s innocence, but you have know him for what? Two? Maybe three blow jobs? You know nothing of the man, nor his past. Only his taste.”

The stoic killer had yet to raise his voice since entering the establishment, there was no need, it was simple acoustics and the science of sound the lower the tone the farther the sound waves would travel cutting through the noise and volume of high- pitched babble, like that emitting from the Jezebel’s painted lips. His low pitched voice always carried its intended message to his intended recipient. Silently he stood listening to the words flowing forth from the ex- allurist, it was evident that the fool thought his voice still carried some power, which made it all the more amusing as most ignored him, instead watching the bimbo dancing across the tables. Finally the spew of lies ended, and Mordechai cocked an eyebrow as his head slowly shook. “ ‘My evil twin’ … That is the best you can come up with? ‘My evil twin did it’? I am sure that will truly carry weight in the humans court of law once you are Identified as the perpetrator of these attacks. There is no escape for you. You will pay one way…. Or another.’’ If this fool truly thought that was a valid defence, the killer could almost feel sorry for him… Not. You say you were never violent before you became a vampire, in that I will have to disagree as well. You see, my ‘sister’ has studied deeply the phenomena, and explained it to me in words that I am sure even your conquest can understand. Madame Zodiac, perhaps you have heard of her, has expounded on this theory. Humans have flaws, and that is why there is a need to evolve, become better, stronger, smarter. However becoming a vampire doesn't wipe out those flaws. It only exemplifies them, magnifies them, make them stronger, more dominant than what they were. Anyone who believes that becoming a vampire changes the flaws they has as humans, are wrong. Whatever exists in a man as a human is still there when he is turned, simply stronger. If you would like I could invite her to our little party, I am sure she would have much to expound on the principle.” Turning to Alexandrea as she finally arrived at his side, he left one last comment floating on the air. “I do not call women conquests. I called her a conquest, for is that not what she is to you? One more notch of many on your bar rail?” with preternatural speed, Mordechai reached out to the bar, a single razor sharp talon slipping from his index finger as he scored a sharp white tally mark into the rail.

Stepping back his head tipped to the blonde beside him “We can have the dance now, Alexandrea, but I am afraid I must ask you to keep your hands in chaste locations” For the first time that night a twinkle lit in his eyes, “I have met the most amazing woman, she is quite petite, and most exquisitely lovely. It would be my pleasure to introduce her to you, she has the most delightful smile, and her laugh is divine. I must admit, I think I may have fallen for an older woman, her name is Amaranthia.”

[Tierney]

♣ wearing ♣

There’d been a few pub crawls that people had been talking about before Tierney had closed down for the night. Due to the holiday, closing early was a given. She was Irish from both sides of her family, Irish-Gaelic from her mother’s side were the heavier drinkers remained and more than happy to take advantage of it all. Instead of falling into the same habits, she’d taken more of an approach to pay attention to her surroundings and listening. For the most part, she’d simply sipped her beer, but there’d been a time or two where she’d been able to knock two men down after they’d gotten a little rowdy and the owner had looked a little panicked.

It had surprised her to see the majority of the crowds she’d run across had been soldiers. Some were recognized from the militia, they’d give her a nod of greeting and ask her how her night was going. She’d bought them a round courtesy of her family’s apothecary and that was it. She’d joined up recently for NADUMA. While she wasn’t the biggest fan of vampires (or people, really, for that matter), it gave her something to do aside from the Order of Steel and it allowed her to actively work on her abilities. A blast of hot air did wonders against some of the undead creatures that plagued their city.

When the party shifted from the little bar that she’d gathered into, Tierney wasn’t surprised to see Lancaster’s was at the end of the road - at least for this particular group. In fact, the only thing that surprised her were the military that stood around and the protestors. More importantly, it was the news van that had her seemingly curious. The chanting had her eyebrow twitching, her green eyes shifting from face to face as a dancer got in her way just outside of the doors. With a firm, but gentle grasp of the shoulder, the ginger redirected the individual out of her way. “Hey!” Rather than respond, she carefully weaved her way inside in and out of the crowd.

As she reached down to focus on the power that lingered beneath the surface, Tierney wasn’t too happy when she found herself unable to throw a burst of chi to an offending elbow that met her ribs on accident. Eventually, the petite sorcerer found what she was looking for, or rather whom. She made her way around the mountain of a man to catch the tail end of the conversation. “It attacks them, as well?” There was a sneer to her lips that followed the word them as she removed her phone from her pocket as she sent out a few texts to her friends before greeting the cured vampire, “Elliot - when you have a moment, I’ll be over there.”

Tierney pointed towards a table off to the side. The chanting began to cause her eyebrow to twitch once more as she went to take her seat. Almost immediately, her computer was pulled out and she plugged it into an outlet - it was clear she’d come around to find a space where she could sit to sort through things over time. Her attention towards towards the dancers and then shifted towards the individual on the woman on the table before she leaned back, scrolling through the information gathered on her computer that she’d promised to give to the man.

After a moment or two, Tierney reached for her cellphone once more, deciding to send out a second text message to see who would get their faster if she said, “First few rounds are on me if you come out to Lancaster’s. Zombie loving protesters are here.” Once the sent piece went through, she tapped her finger against her screen and began looking for a nearby access point.

[Samson Krahn]

W E A R I N G

The phone rang for a moment as Samson made his way down the street. Ever since the rise of the zombies (beyond the walls of the Quarantine Zone), there had been a lot of chaos. There were soldiers all over the place, trying to put down numerous protests and riots, killing the undead and burning their bodies. The cops were more than stretched thin trying to keep with all the looting, and the muggings, and the home invasions. It was as if the only rules that existed were the rules made by steel. Of blades and bullets. Samson was probably a bad person for liking it so much. How primitive the whole thing was. He had been all over the world, and had seen war torn communities. He was ironically at peace with a lifestyle where he slept with a knife under his pillow, because it was so much more real than the deluded false reality created by Western media. There was this idea that people were untouchable, that they could build up barriers and high towers made by mobile devices and social consciousness. Of course, Sammy-boy knew better. He had lived in the viscera, in the guts and blood of crumbling communities.

He knew those towers fell and those barriers were paper thin. The only way to create true rule of law was through might and numbers. In a world where everyone was just trying to survive, people tended not to get so angry about the views of a God fearing, conservative, country boy from ‘Nowhere’, West Virginia.

“You sent me one of them typos.” He said to Tierney. Who promptly explained to him that ‘zombie loving’ had not actually been a typo at all. No ****? His smile was a cautious thing, given even though Tier couldn’t see him. Because he was still pretty sure there was some kind of punchline in there. But the punchline never came. So after hanging up, Samson decided to modify his course a little bit. He had been out patrolling for a little while. Best thing to do during winter and early spring, before the big thaw made the land usable again. Since he didn’t have to be up during the daylight hours except for to tend to his animals, his schedule had nearly completely changed. He stayed up long into the night. While the zombies themselves didn’t spring up all over town, a few of them managed to wander away from the center districts of the town. Suffice it to say there was always plenty to be done.

This fortunately meant that he was actually pretty close to Redwood. The protestors themselves didn’t bother Sam. Freedom of speech and all that. People could believe what they wanted, no matter how silly he thought it was. If people wanted to paint themselves blue, and dance around in a mushroom patch calling themselves smurfs...more power to ‘em. What he cared about was this round of drinks Tier had mentioned. Now. The Paladin could count on his hands (yes, he could count that high) the number of times he’d been drunk. He didn’t normally indulge, and he was a very large guy. This meant that when his friends were shitfaced, he was usually just a little on the deep side of buzzed. He was one of those people who had to be going out of his way to get totally smashed. But. He believed in group bonding, and tossing back a few drinks on St. Patrick’s day seemed like an excellent option.

Besides. He knew that people were stressed, tense, and overworked with the current climate. It was God’s own work, giving people an outlet during a time of celebration. Like how some people found life and death situations sexy - because nearly having your entire world taken away was a great motivator to well and truly live every single moment. People could not live perpetually in terror, and there had been a number that were scared, devastated and had been for weeks. God’s own work indeed.

When he got there, there was all sorts of things going on. There were soldiers trying to get the protestors to simmer down and leave, news (free publicity), and the actual patrons. It took a moment for him to get in, but once there, Samson found Tierney pretty easily. He pulled back a chair and dropped into it with an informal slouch. “Evenin’.” He commented, only to follow it up, mouthing some words designed only for her to see. You notice the dead things? “I was promised a drink.”

[Amaranthia]

The instinct was there to raise her brow, but spiders didn't really have such a feature and instead she blinked a few times, holding still as possible those extra legs as he goaded her. "Me? May have been Naughty? I thought you knew me better than that." The teasing tone of her voice carried, even as she telepathically caressed his mind with the words. There was no concern as the male proprietor of the club flashed his peacock feathers and attempted some vague description entailing that his shade was responsible for those actions against vampire-kind. That argument would never have been considered acceptable in the days of the Old Code, and they certainly wouldn't excuse the male now from blame. If he had such a Shade, then he should be dedicating the summation of his energy upon the sole goal of restraining the creature, and preventing it from causing further harm.

As Alexandrea asked Mordechai for a dance, the allurist flashed through a quick emotion of jealousy. She had always been possessive, however, she truly had no right in this instance and it shamed her to a degree that such a flame of envy would grow so quickly to engulf her thoughts for the moments it did so, before rational reason could redirect her ire. No, she could not hold this against the woman, and there was no real threat. As Mordechai replied, those flames licking at the kindling of her emotions began to once more be quelled. It was getting harder and harder to restrain herself from reacting. Not only had the flames been quelled, but she found herself smiling inwardly as he avoided the even mere appearance of "evil" to use the old turn of phrase, though one such as Amaranthia with her history could never truly consider it to be evil, even if the Church had made such claims against her. Then again she'd also been accused of witchcraft...those though had been true.

[Ramona (DELETED 10272)]

An all too familiar news van was on the scene as the flash mob was being told to move it or get arrested? Since when was the freedom of assembly a crime? Was this Spain!? When Snapper was out of the van, Ramona moved from the flash mob and wrapped an arm around his neck and shoulders. "SNAPPER!" Ramona cried out, as their shoulders bumped up against one another's. The first time they had met, Ramona had been heading up a protest against KFC on the university campus. The following year, KFC's contract hadn't been renewed.

"Tonight, we're showing the real savages in the city. The ones looting, and burning bodies of their loved ones!" Ramona tossed a thumb at the military police. "And here they are trying to keep everything on the dl. You know what I think?" She stopped and pulled away from Snapper so that she could get her phone recording on her own face. "I think this whole zombie thing is a means of population control, by our government. Who are the first to go? The elderly and the children. Too slow and too defenseless. Then, when numbers are crunched, they come out with this 'cure.' Like the vampire one we've heard about for months." Ramona nodded her head, as Snapper too, started to record what Ramona was saying. "They're killing off our friends, families and neighbors and no one is batting an eye. Zombies just don't exist. Someone made them and let them out!" Her brows furrowed, thinking of Mateo.

"So come on in. Ask around. I bet there are some good leads in here. If not, then talk to the military back there." She turned to point to the men and women in their military uniform. "You can thank Beezus and I later for getting them down here for ya, later." She slapped him on the back and pulled open the door to see Beezus on the bar doing her own little Irish jig.

At about the time they all entered, there was a really big guy that also caught her attention, booming on about some evil twin. Ramona blinked and then shrugged. "Family probs." She rolled her eyes; who was the evil twin? The one claiming there was an evil twin, or the one that wasn't around to defend himself? Everyone had their perception of who was the 'worse sibling.' "Beezus, get on off that table before you break a leg. Remember, tomorrow we have our prot-I mean freedom of assembly over at the QZ. Tell them assholes they just can't be taking ears off bodies of loved ones. That's a serious crime!" Ramona shook her head, coughed up a loogie and then spit it on the ground in disgust. "The 1949 Geneva Conventions states that military forces must search for the dead and prevent them from being despoiled." Ramona said loud enough for Snapper to hear her and pan to her again. "The dead must be placed in a grave or wherever they wish to be buried, according to their spiritual beliefs! There are serious crimes being committed in Harper Rock against our people!" Ramona stood in the center of the pub attendees to get as much attention as she could. "I'm talking jail time, fines, the whole nine yards!" She concluded as some of the flash mob members trickled in and started applauding her and Beezus. "There's your story. A clear and present crime against the Geneva Conventions themselves! Call the prime minister! Call the Queen! Call the pope! Show the world what's going on!"

[Alexandrea]

The dancing hadn't been as fun as Alex had thought it would be, although she had managed to get into the groove with the flash mob at least a little by the time it ended... but Mordi hadn't joined her. So she painted on a pout and used the short girl shimmy to weave her way through the crowd towards the giant Killer. It wasn't until she was within arms reach that she spotted Jack and Lanky both were close by too. She waved cheerfully to her childer and then turned to watch as two of her favourite guys exchanged some words. Alex didn't want to get caught up in the middle, she always did her best to stay out of it when she had friends that didn't get along with each other. Well.. mostly. She DID adopt Doc even after knowing how he and Ripper felt about each other. But in her defence, she had thought they would get over it after a few super entertaining family get-togethers.

But the guys both seemed to want to get Alexandrea involved, much to the blonde's dismay. So she started to pay attention to what they were saying... and really started to notice the mess around her. It dawned on Alex that whatever had the guys worked up, it was pretty serious. The words 'evil twin' trigged her understanding though. And nodding enthusiastically, she was just about to speak up about that when Mordechai delivered his good news and blew everything else out the blonde's head.

With a squeal of delight, she pounced on Mordi with a tight tackle hug; "Oh wow! And Congratulations! I'm so happy for you!" And she really was, although the news also made her miss Odin a little more than usual. "Where is she, didn't you come together? I want to congratulate her, too!" Her face beaming, Alex looked around for Amaranthia in vain for a few minutes before looking over up at Lancaster. The other male might not be as tall as Mordi was but looking up at him still gave Alex a crick in her neck.

"Elliot's told you the truth about that clone of his, by the by. Or at least what he believes to be the truth." Alex smiled at Lancaster warmly. "My old pal here? He's not capable of lying. And he and I already dished about it, so I believe it too. Mostly. I haven't seen them both side by side yet, at least not with my own eyes. But I've seen it attacking Elliot in his own memories."