Subject: [OTL]: [Pryde, ?] Destiny [3:11] Date: Tue, 3 Dec 2002 19:15:19 -0800 (PST) From: D Benway Destiny [3:11] prognosticated by Benway This story makes not-for-profit use of some characters belonging to Marvel Comics and DC Comics. This story has some horrible bits, but nothing too gratuitous. No recognizable political figures were subject to harsh and abusive ridicule in the manufacture of this document. Spam is a registered trademark of the Hormel Corp. ___________________________________________________________ The weekend was taken up by everything but the Diaries. On Friday and Saturday, she tended bar and avoided the ex, who she'd been dumb enough to take up with after meeting him at work. When she wasn't there, she'd been doing the minimum required to keep up in her courses. On Sunday night, she'd added another 43 links to her data base, and had a list of the 31 pages to look up in the Unaussprechlichen Kulten. If it all went as it had in the past, she'd be able to find a third of them, no thanks to Carter, The Unstoppable Sex Machine. She had found that imagining the upright Boston scholar up on a stage performing the music that hurled a thousand ecstatic kids into a dance frenzy took a bit of an edge off the hostility she felt towards him. She went past the ID ladies, made a left at circulation, descended into the basement and made two more rights, then a left. Booting a step into place, she climbed up and found that the UK wasn't there. "Shit," she said. She checked the reshelving carts. She tried the card catalogue. One copy, and it wasn't taken out. She asked at the desk. The guy with the tie came out. This time, it was a putting green, complete with flag. "We'll put out a trace," he said. "You're sure you don't know anyone-" "No," she said. She went back down to where it should have been. As she reached the row, she saw someone vanish around the corner. She checked the shelf. The UK still wasn't there. She checked the shelves around it, looking for a misplacement. She failed to find it. Instead, as she reached up to pick up a book that had fallen on its side, she found something else. At first she thought it was gum, fresh gum that some lazy fuck had left there. It wasn't gum. It was a wad of thick, bloody sputum. "Ew," she said, wiping reflexively and leaving a streak down the side of her jeans. Someone coughed. "Gotcha," she said. She went back to the corridor and passed several aisles. She didn't look as she passed the aisle with the person who hacked quietly as she passed. Instead, she turned into the next aisle and checked that the coast was clear. She phased her head through the books, and saw that the hacker, the kid with the white hair, had his back turned to her. She phased the rest of herself through. He still failed to notice her, as he was reaching for a book on a high shelf. It was on South Pacific megaliths. His clothes were plain, but needed washing. He certainly did. He stank. It was a human stink, but not one quite like she'd ever smelled before. It reminded her vaguely of goats. "Hey," she said. "Aaah!" he said, slipping sideways off the step. She caught him easily, but contrived to let his pack slip the floor. A copy of the Dover Abridged Edition of the Necronomicon fell out. "Sorry," he muttered, disentangling himself from her as she bent to pick up the pack. "Why do I think I'm going to find-" she said. Doug was standing in front of her, with white hair. "You're dead," she said. "No," he said, frowning. "Not yet." "Doug?" she whispered. The eyes were brown, not blue. The nose might have once been broken, but it was also too small. The face was wider, just a little too wide, but if none of those things had been true- "Tom," he said. "Tom Whateley. I don't think I know you." "You look like someone-" she said. "Sorry," he said. "Thanks for the save." He bent over to pick up the book, and hacked again. A chunk of bloody sputum hit the floor. "Shit," she said. "You seen a doctor about that?" "No point," he said. "No point?" she said. "That could be cancer, or TB. Something fatal." "Everything's fatal," he said. "Life is fatal." "Fuck that," she said. "You're coming with me to Health Services." "No," he said. "I'm not a student." "Then how did you get in here?" she said. "I'm a researcher," he said. "My ass," she said. "You're still in high school." "No," he said. "I'm 19. Are you?" "Yeah," she said. "Look, I know some people there, they'll take a look at you anyhow." "No," he said. "It's fine." "We can do this the hard way," she said, putting him in an armlock. "No," he said, wriggling expertly out of it. "Hey!" she said. Logan had taught her that hold. "I'll see someone about it tomorrow," he said, rubbing his elbow. "Promise." "I still think-" she said. "I'll be seeing you," he said, taking the pack. "Let's talk-", she said. "I have to go," he said. "Doug-" she said. "Tom," he said. "Thanks for the save." He vanished around the corner. "Hey!" she said. She rounded the corner. He wasn't there. She went back an aisle. He wasn't there either. "What the fuck?" she said. She heard the fire door open on the west stairs. "Fuck," she said, phasing through the stacks and almost through a student librarian who wasn't looking up at that moment. She doubled back, unphased, and made for the stairs. She heard a door above close. She took off up to the main floor and emerged by the Rare Book Room toilets. No sign of him. She went into the Women's, then discretely phased into the Men's. Nothing. She went back out and headed for the entrance. Nothing. She planted herself in a seat by the door. In the hour she sat there, he didn't come by. She mulled it over. She could tell the librarian. It wouldn't be hard to spot Whateley, not with that hair. They would arrest him, and the books, if he had them, would sit on the shelf at a police station for months or perhaps years. It might not take long to locate the evidence room where they were being held, but then trying to use them while not being seen might be as annoying as having to go to the Miskatonic. Not useful. Especially not when the books she needed were almost certainly all in one place, nearby. He hadn't gotten the book on megaliths. She did a quick check on area libraries. There was only one copy, and it was the one on the shelf downstairs. She smiled. She would wait for him, wait quietly, just watch, until he showed up. Then, she would follow him to the books. It would be easy. Dead easy. __________________________________________________