Character Sheet: Norb Baker Appearance Prelude Journal Entries:
Name: Norb Baker Player: Torsten Beck Status: N.P.C. (player removed) Chronicle: Santa Cruz/Mortal Nature: Gallant Demeanor: Loner Residence: Apartment Motive: Method: Concept: Taxi Driver ATTRIBUTES: Physical: Strength-2, Dexterity-3, Stamina-3 Social: Charisma-2, Manipulation-2, Appearance-2 Mental: Perception-4, Intelligence-3, Wits-3 ABILITIES: Talents: Acting-1, Alertness-2, Dodge-1, Empathy-2, Leadership-1, Streetwise-3, Subterfuge-1 Skills: Drive-2, Repair-2 Knowledge: Computer-2, Investigation-1, Linguistics (English/ German)-1, Occult-3 ADVANTAGES: Numina & Other Traits: Backgrounds: Allies-2, Resources-3 Merits & Flaws: Charmed Existence (+), Jack of All Trades (+) Faith-0 Humanity-7 Willpower-10 VIRTUES: Conscience-3 Self-Control-4 Courage-3 Appearance: Should anyone pay attention to him (which is seldom) you would first notice his tall and gaunt appearance (nightshifts really are better for your skin) combined with the fact that either every piece of clothing is black, or of a different color than the rest. Most of the time you spot him by his hat (either "Indiana Jones" or "Blues Brothers"), which he's wearing nearly all the time. Other than that, he's 6'4" weighing about 75 kg. with brown hair and grey-green eyes. Most of the time he's quietly waiting until there's something he can do. Prelude: (to be added) Thursday, June 1st, 12:45 a.m. Norb's jaw just about hit the ground when he saw his fare step out of her pretty evening dress, letting it slide down her naked body. Stepping out of it, she kicked it away into a bush like it was a rag. The moon was only a thin sliver so it was hard for Norb to see what she was doing, but as the fog had not reached this high yet, at least there was nothing to obscure what light there was. The woman's white body was pale grey in the meagre moonlight, but as Norb stared, he thought he could see her take something out of her purse. It looked long and glinted, like it was made of metal. There was a grunt and Norb thought he saw the woman drag the thing across her body and then lather herself up with something. Damn!, thought Norb. I can't see a thing! He decided then and there to go to the military surplus store at Moss Landing and see if he could scare up a pair of those infrared goggles that the chopper pilots at Ford Ord wore. He doubted they would have them, or that he could afford them, but they were definitely on his wish list. There was a snuffling sound as an animal entered the clearing. It looked like a large dog, but Norb couldn't see as its fur was black. It seemed to sniff at the woman, but he couldn't hear her run or show any signs of fear. Then it growled, right at the bush Norb was hiding in. Norb just about shit his pants. He figured something was going on, and the something said he was dead now for having seen it, but the growling stopped, and the dog-thing bounded off back into the redwoods. The woman, raising her arms in the air, chanted something that Norb couldn't understand. He couldn't even recognize the language, though it sounded Turkish, he guessed. After the animal growling at him, he figured he'd better high-tail it out of there. No use in tempting fate. But, he didn't want to give himself away either, so he waited until the woman finished her litany, or whatever it was and ran herself into the forest. He hadn't seen her reclaim her dress and he wondered why she'd left it. Going forward, he couldn't later say why he'd done it, he cautiously walked up to where she'd kicked the dress aside, wincing everytime a twig snapped underneath his foot. Looking around him, he heard the nighttime sounds of the forest. An owl hooted not far off and there were rustling in the dry underbrush, as if small animals were rooting about down there. Bugs and mosquitoes plagued him by either biting him or flying into his face. He wondered how she, naked as she was, had stood it. Perhaps she had been rubbing bug repellent all over herself. Norb reached down for where he supposed the dress was. He had to search with his hands in the dark. His left hand touched something wet on the dry leaves and putting it to his nose, he smelled it. It smelled sharply sweet. Norb tried wiping it off on his pants. Then, with his right hand, he was finally able to find the dress, its thick sweetness tickling his hand. Trying very carefully not to soil it, he was surprised to find how soft it was. Lifting it up, he touched it, reveling in its softness and noting the powerful scent of musky perfume that permeated everything around the dress. He debated taking the dress for a souvenir, but the fare had been good to him and she might need it when she got back from stomping around out in the woods. He started back for the cab, but his feet tripped him up and he fell down sharply, stabbing his right palm on a stick. "Aggh," he grimaced. Taking the stick out of his hand, he found that he had tripped over the woman's purse. Not even entertaining any thought about taking it, Norb left the clearing as quickly as he could. He found it took some time to finally find his cab again. Thursday, June 1st 1:58 a.m. Norb just about shit when he saw the time on his clock. He wouldn't get back until everything was dead. The chances of him getting another fare this late were pretty slim, so content with his twenty-five dollar tip, Norb decided to call it a night and take the cab back to the yard. Then he saw his hand. "Was?" Norb, looking at his left hand, saw that it was covered in dried blood. There was blood where he had wiped it on his pants as well. His pants were ruined and he had to take off his tee shirt to bind up his right palm, where he had stabbed it with the stick. "Scheiss!" he muttered, and drove the taxi back toward the city. As he cleared the park border and was heading back toward the golf course at Boulder Creek, he saw someone in the road trying to flag him down. What craziness was this, he wondered, but still he slowed down to take a look. It was his fare, now dressed again. It first thought was to hit the gas and get the hell out of there, but he had already made eye-contact and those dark eyes of hers held right onto him. Then it just hit him. How the hell did she get to Boulder Creek before he did? Then he hit the gas anyway. Better to live another day, he told himself. He had just made the turn onto Highway 9 and gone through Boulder Creek when he saw her again, on the road before Brookdale. Again, she tried to flag him down. Feeling like he was made of lead, his arms managed to stop the taxi. Whatever was going to happen, it was going to happen he decided. "Well, my lucky day," she told him. "Take me back to Santa Cruz." She got into the back seat again." He drove onto the road. "You forgot to turn on the meter," she reminded him. He wanted to say that this ride was on him, but he couldn't speak. Woodenly, he turned up the old fashioned flag and watched the numbers roll. None of the other drivers liked to drive number 84, but Norb liked the old-fashioned feel of the cab. The other drivers said it gave them the creeps, and Norb hadn't known what they were talking about - until now. Looking in the rearview mirrour, at those eyes that always seemed to be staring back, never blinking, never wavering but staring with a hardness that made stone seem soft as butter, Norb had the creeps. No, it was more than that, he was just downright terrified and his driving showed it. "Keep to the road," his fare told him in a soft voice that managed to still be commanding. "We don't want anything to happen to you - yet." As they passed through Felton, asleep at this hour, Norb looked in his rear view mirror and noted that the woman appeared coarser than he had noted earlier. Funny how some woman had a hair problem, but this one definitely needed a shave. Norb's police scanner blared something inconsequential, but it distracted his fare so that she wasn't staring at through the rear-view mirrour. Then Norb's survival instinct took over and he stopped the taxi and throwing open the door, got out and ran back to Felton for his life. He never went twenty paces. She, or rather it, was standing in front of him, full nine feet tall, appearing more like an animal, like a wolf-bear hybrid that was unrecognizable except for the colour of her hair, now all over, and the glint in her eyes. She raised a claw and growled. Norb, ready to die, took out his pepper spray and held it up in a gesture of defiance. It took one look at the pepper spray and stopped, not in fear, but in astonishment. Then it started to laugh. It slapped its sides with its claws and laughed, hoarse, howling laughter. Staggering back to the taxi, it somehow managed to get back in. Several minutes later, Norb returned as well. Totally perplexed, he peeked into the back seat. She was human once again, and seeing Norb, his fare once again broke out into uncontrollable laughter, pointing at him. But this time the laughter was with a human voice, melodic and recognizable, and the redness of the woman as she blushed all over, - and the thing's voice let Norb know it was genuine. "Let's get going," the woman managed to tell him. "Where to?" he asked. "Back to Santa Cruz," she reiterated. "Tell me," she asked him after a while, "What good did you think that spray was going to do?" "Well, I wasn't going to go out without a fight," Norb replied, a little embarrassed and miffed. "Well, since you didn't seem bothered by my appearance," the woman told him, "You're obviously kinfolk. The question is, from what tribe?" Norb wasn't about to tell her that he wasn't a werewolf, but since it got him off the hook, he let her believe the lie. "Tell me," she asked him, "Why did you follow me?" "I couldn't help myself," he blurted out before he knew what he was saying. "You intrigued me so much, I just wanted to see you again. I didn't mean any harm," he insisted. "I just, I don't know - felt connected with you." "Yes, I know," she told him. "I figured I should make you forget it all, but now it seems I can't." "What are you going to do?" he asked. She looked at him and smiled. "Where do you live?" Thursday, June 1 11:39 a.m. Norb startled from his sleep and looked over. His fare, naked once again, lay beside him in his bed. Looking out the window, he groaned. He hadn't taken number 84 back to the yard. He hoped he wouldn't catch hell from Murdock for it. But then, looking back at his bed companion, he found he couldn't care less if he did. He thought she was asleep, but she turned over and regarded him with eyes, not so hard as they seemed before, but definitely scrutinizing, analyzing. "You're not kinfolk," she told him, more as an expression of her own thought out loud, than as an explanation to him. "I guess you're just one of those rare individuals who aren't subject to delirium." "Is that good or bad?" he asked. "What am I going to do with you?" she was again thinking out loud. "I suppose I should kill you," she confessed. "I warn you," Norb reached down for his pants. She raised an eye but made no move to stop him. "I'll protect myself," he warned, once again holding up the pepper spray, a smile on his face. She snorted and then broke out into peals of laughter. She had to bury her face into his pillow to try and stop. Thursday, June 1st 2:53 p.m. Norb walked back with her along Center Street opposite the car dealership, after having lunch after dropping off the taxi. Ida was gardening outside and trying not to stare. Murdock had been so stunned by her appearance alongside Norb that he hadn't even winced about Norb's bringing 84 back late. Now she was having much the same effect on Ida, not to mention everyone else they had passed. "Well, I guess I'd better be going," she told him. "What's your name?" Norb finally thought about asking. "Mine's" She put her fingers on his lips. "I know. I read your taxi licence, Norbert." "Call me, Norb," he told her. She nodded. "My name is Vickie Two-winds. But I think for you, you should probably remember me as Victoria Strasburger." Norb nodded, "Victoria. I like that." Vickie smiled. "Is that supposed to matter?." She kissed him and started to walk off. "You're forgetting something," he told her. "What?" she asked perplexed. "The fare," he replied calmly, a blank look on his face. "I left the meter running. You owe me Five hundred and sixty-seven dollars. Forget the change." For a moment she took him seriously and her jaw dropped down about an inch as her eyes widened. "If you don't have it on you," he told her, "I'll take a promise for dinner sometime." She smiled. Norb thought his heart was going to melt. "You got it," she told him, and walked briskly off. Ida came up to him. "Oh, Norb. Sie ist ein shönes Mädchen," she said to him proudly, as if he were a son. Norb nodded. Looking up at the bright sun, he found he wasn't even tired. Thursday, June 1st, 3:34 p.m. Norb just finished putting together another list of things, this time things he wanted to ask Vickie (if he was able to remember them) the next time he would see her. Just thinking of her made his heart race wildly as if it was trying to burst right out of his chest. So Vickie was a Werewolf, she asked him of his tribe, so this has to mean that werewolves are somehow classified into tribes, as neither Vickie nor Norb looked indian anyhow. She also called him kinfolk, so this has to have some special meaning for werewolves. He didn't drink anything alcoholic the last few weeks, so delirium can't mean he was drunk. This ritual (or whatever that was) had to have some special meaning to her, so werewolves can't all be the bloodthirsty monsters you are reading in old folk-tales. She somehow seemed surprised that he could recognize her hybrid form, so there had to be something special about it. To top this off some things had to be TOTALLY wrong, like how did she change if there was only a sliver of the moon and no full moon for weeks ?!? , maybe this silver-thing is also a myth...And, how did she get so far ahead of him on foot,where he had driven along an empty road. He looked at the few words on his list and put it into his pocket. "I hope i remember where i put it..." Norb mumbled to himself. Thursday, June 1st, 4:22 p.m. Norb entered the building where the Yellow Cab Company was located, a lot earlier than required for his night-shift. "Norb ? , what are you doing here, don't you have something better to do...", Murdock asked with a grin connecting his ears and you didn't have to be a telepath to see what's going on inside his head. "I just wanted to check some records if i may.", Norb asked. "Which records ?", Murdock asked, suddenly snapping out of a seemingly captivating rememberance. "Everything you got about Number 84, i am just curious about this GREAT car.", Norb replied, grinning nearly as much as his boss did a few seconds ago. "So you got lucky today... Well maybe i am too generous, but since it's your birthday and i certainly can't give you a present as nice as your new girlfriend, i'll let you read the records about 84, if you are VERY lucky, and i am in a good mood, i may even consider letting you buy it, when i find a replacement for it. It semms this car has waited for you." "My Birthday !!! Verdammt, i really forgot my birthday..., i can't believe it. But thank you very much, i will think about it..." Thursday, June 1st, 5:29 p.m. Having just finished browsing through a BIG mountain of paper, it seemed to Norb that Number 84 had quite an illustrious history. It's about 20 years since Murdock got this car from a little old lady, whose husband seemingly built this car all by his own. Since she couldn't drive it was worthless for her. Murdock even drove it himself but after a week he hit a parking car head-on. The other car was quite damaged and there even was a lengthy questioning (in the car were two cops trying to observe a suspected drug-dealer, who got away during this diversion). Murdock still can't believe he could lose control of this car on a dry road. So he stopped using this car, but nearly every other driver got some "special" stories to tell. "So maybe it's the car after all..." Norb thought aloud "But if this car brought me together with Vickie it seems to like me..." Vickie...I still don't know how to reach her. Browsing through the phonebook to find "Victoria Strasburg" Norb's thoughts got carried away... Friday, June 2nd, 1995 11:51 a.m. Enjoying the fine day, Norb checked Number 84 out early and took her up for a drive up Highway 9 as far as Felton, and then turning off just before the main part of the town onto Graham Hill Road. He enjoyed the wooded drive and, though he was spending gas needlessly, he was still reveling in his night with Vickie, looking very much forward, anxiously so, to seeing her again. As he passed Zayante, he kept an eye out for any wildflowers, thinking to stop and make up a bouquet. But the heat had done in many of the spring's late bloomers and all that were left were stands of lupins and California Poppies. The poppies, being the State Flower, were illegal to pick, carrying a hefty fine for doing so. And a bouquet of lupins seemed boring, so Norb let the thought pass, thinking to perhaps buy her flowers. The more he thought about it, the more he wondered when he would see her again. It had been very disappointing to be unable to find her number in the book. Norb put on some music and as he drove down the road, slowing behind an incredibly cautious driver, he sang along, not caring if anyone should see him doing so. He wasn't even angry when a young man waved him down, only to ask for directions. Smiling, he gave the fellow the directions he had asked for and didn't even seemed miffed when the hitchhiker, not wanting to pay cab fare, turned and walked off, not even saying a "thank-you." As number 84 coasted down the road, finally coming back into view of Santa Cruz, the Holy Cross Church at once capturing the eye, Norb's spirits rose even higher as he drove out once again into the sunlight and out of the cool shade of the forested road. As he approached Ocean Street, nearing the river, Norb was startled to see a young girl appear in the road right in front of him. Feeling like his heart had popped up into his mouth, Norb swerved aside, almost loosing control of the cab. Several cars hit the brakes behind him, trying to avoid colliding with him as he came to a stop facing the wrong direction. His heart pounding wildly, Norb jumped out and looked around to see if he had hit the girl. She was nowhere to be seen. "LEARN HOW TO DRIVE!!!" someone yelled out at him from a passing car. Several cars drove by him, their drivers casting angry glances at him for almost causing a terrible wreck. Fortunately, no one had been hurt and no damage had been done. Swearing, Norb got back into the cab and then he saw her again. The little girl, dressed in a purple dress, was playing amongst the tombstones of the old cemetery along the river. Furious, Norb got out of his cab and stalking over into the cemetery, yelled at the little girl. Frightened, she looked over and ran off. He ran after her, but after she ducked behind a tree, he lost her, which he thought strange since he hadn't seen anywhere she could have hidden from him. Thinking she had run down to the river, Norb walked that way, but searching the willows, found only sleeping or drunk homeless men escaping from the sun by hiding under the fronds of willows, their blankets and boxes of trash marking their meagre camps. Shaking his head, Norb walked back to his cab. Saturday 3rd June 19:00 [Driving through downtown] Starting his shift in old 84, Norb couldn't wait looking for other sites of interest for his 'Spooky-Tours'. After the incident on the beach a few days ago, when a man got hit by lightning from a clear sky. He will have to try to contact the man... Maybe tomorrow...He nearly hit a trashcan rolling onto the street, but this helped him getting back to reality. He should try to do one thing after anoher, this had always been one of his problems, trying to do as much together as possible. After about three less than busy hours he decided to take a little rest to think about the past few days... His sudden gain of a job, meeting a werewolf, which later turned out to be a beautiful woman, hours of waiting in overheated offices to put up all the neccesary paperwork, checking out various sources of unusual stuff in the local libraries. After all this he wondered why he still was happy with his current situation. A few hours later he was back home (Home being the attic in Ida's house) trying to sleep. Sunday, June 4th, 1995 1:43 a.m. "Hey, you busy?!" Norb looked up. A tall thin young man dressed in studded leather thumped loudly on Norb's cab. Alongside him were two young women, both dressed in black fringe and lace, with matching black lipstick. They might have been twins were it not for their different coloured hair. One had a sort of honey brown colour, while the other's was jet black. The young man's own hair was motley of black spikes while his eyes seemed almost yellow. When Norb didn't answer right away, the young man started to kick on the cab door. "Hey, you deaf or WHAT!" "Hey! Take it easy on the paint job, for Christsakes!" Norb yelled back. Despite it being Saturday night, pickings had been rather lean so Norb decided he couldn't be choosey, not if he wanted to make enough to take Victoria out to Oswalds next Thursday. "Get in," Norb sighed. The trio got in, with the man sandwiched in between. "Where to?" Norb asked them. "Klub Kulture," the man replied, lighting up a clove cigarette. "Klub Kulture!" Norb's cab, parked in the cab pullout next to the Greyhound Bus station and Santa Cruz Metro depot looked across Front Street to the crowded blue painted facade of the punk goth club only a few feet away. "What the fuck are you trying to pull here," Norb demanded. "Get out and walk." "Hey, I want to drive in style. Jimmy Deathstone walks nowhere." The punk took a long drag on his cigarette. Just as Norb was about to let out with another verbal barrage, the Man handed Norb a twenty dollar bill. Norb shrugged, thinking that the guy was not a little touched. In fact, he was nuts. Putting on his indicator, he drove out of the cab pullout and drove only a few feet down the street, and then as traffic allowed, he made a U-turn and pulled right in front of Klub Kulture, maybe forty feet from where he had picked them up across the street. "Here you go," Norb said, watching the bubble machine in front of the club churn out hundreds of bubbles, many of which popped on Norb's windshield, leaving soapy rings. The trio of goths walked out. "Wait for me," the one called Jimmy ordered, and then walked into the Klub. Norb watched him file past the bouncer. The cabbie waited, trading nasty looks with the dark looking clientele standing out front when there was a sound of gunshots coming from inside. Jimmy and his entourage came running out and jumped into the cab. "Hit it!" he yelled. "What went on in there," Norb asked casually, intent on going nowhere just at the moment. "Get going," Jimmy growled. Norb saw him produce a gun. Jimmy clicked the hammer on the weapon. The meaning was quite clear and Norb raced off into the night. Sunday June 4th, 1995 1:52 a.m. "OK, now tell me what's going on here...", Norb asked the group of Goth-punks in the back of his car. "And please put that thing away, as I am always nervous when confronted with this end of a gun. Don't worry, I won't attack you while I am driving, I really like my body the way it is." "Shut up and drive...", the man who called himself Jimmy Deathstone yelled from the back seat, blood dripping from his hand. "You don't need to know what happened, just get us away from here..." Norb tried to think about all the possibilities of what happened and most of the results didn't yield any results he liked, but nonetheless he never really thought about possible dangers, it was as if something in the car radiated a kind of safety and reassurance. "Oh, shit...", Jimmy's black haired companion cursed and turned her head rapidly from her rearguard position, "They are following us !!! Are you sleeping or can't this thing go faster than a sleeping snail ???" Her comment must have loosened some block in the (already hard-working) engine and the cab suddenly sped up by a speed that no one, not even Norb, could ever expect from a car. It sped across Highway 1, the only thing going faster than the car being Norb's pulse, when he finally, after the eternity of 5 long seconds, realized that his right foot being no further down than it was as Number 84 began it's race. "Slow down you idiot !!! Do you want to kill us all !!!" Jimmy screamed, his skin now being VERY pale. Behind the car a loud crash was being heard, as "they" must have hit another car, the two vehicles being nothing more than a strange kind of modern art. Norb couldn't believe his eyes as he saw a humanoid form getting out of the wreck blocking the freeway. Before he could verify his perception the accident was out of sight. Suddenly the inside if the cab was silent as a crypt. "Number 84, going east on Soquel Drive. I am currently busy but there are three people standing at the corner of Soquel Drive and Cliffwood Drive wanting to go to Downtown Santa Cruz, if someone would be so nice to pick them up..." Norb announced via radio, just now pulling over to the named spot. "I think whoever is after you won't expect you to get back just now." He got out, opened the trunk of the car and took two sweaters and a long coat out of it. "You'd better put these on, as one has to be blind to NOT remember how you are looking." Jimmy and his girls just stared at each other and Norb but couldn't decide how to react to this sudden offering. "That'll be ..." Norb couldn't belive what he saw on the meter... $666 !!! He never expected something like that, but quickly recovered and added "Keep the clothes, and if you ever need me again, just ask for 84... all night." He searched through his pockets and finally found one of his "special cards": SPOOKY TOURS... written in red glow-in-the-dark letters. They were quite expensive but from the look on Jimmy's face he could see that his money was well spent on this. "Ich denke morgen werde ich mir freinehmen..." Norb thought to himself as he drove off... Sunday, June 4th, 1995 3:30 a.m. Norb yawned. Once again, he was parked in front of the Metro. It was getting late and he hadn't picked up on any new fares. Johnny Deathstone and company had been a good fare. He hadn't collected the six-hundred and sixty-six dollars, but Deathstone had given him two C-notes (hundred dollar bills), telling him, of course, to keep the change. But even so, Norb still had to come up with another fifty bucks. Only then, could he start making money for himself. He sighed. It looked like he'd have to chalk up the night for a loss. For distraction, Norb watched a troll (slang for homeless person) pissing in the gutter. Good thing there weren't any cops around. If they saw a troll doing that, they'd be all over him. There was an unwritten rule for Santa Cruz cops - `No Mercy to Trolls.' A punk burnout, who'd exited from the Klub a full hour before, stood leaning on the wall next to the closed Greyhound terminal. She had a lit cigarette in her hand, but she hadn't taken a puff on it in ages. Norb had slowly watched it burn, trailing a long cylinder of ash which had captured most of his attention. Now he watched it, as if seeing the impossibly long ash stick crumble was now his mission in life. He would have to see it fall if it was the last thing he did that night. Norb heard someone whimper. Looking back across the street, he saw the troll convulsing, still standing up. Probably a bad drug trip. Others seemed to think so too, ignoring the troll or stepping around him with worried looks. Norb saw him shudder, but the troll's feet were locked to the ground. The rest of him just wiggled while he moaned, as if caught in a rhythm of pain or pleasure - possibly both. Then he stopped and Norb, seeing that he just stood like a statue, turned his attention back to the pink-haired punk. Her ash had dropped. Damn, Norb thought, as if he'd missed something cataclysmic and earth shattering. The troll crossed in front of his cab and approached the young punk. Norb got a better look at him. He was tall and wiry, with long stringy black hair. He wore a drab olive coat that might have been wool. He must bake in that during the day, Norb thought. The troll's hair had that greasy look that the unwashed often wore. Seeing the look on the punk's face as she fazed back in, probably from smelling the troll, Norb was glad that he wasn't in her shoes, having to sniff that. Norb was ready to act, in case the troll turned out to be a psycho. He had his pepper spray and car radio ready. The cops would be there in minutes if he yelled loud enough - maybe. False alarm. The troll pulled bucks out of his pant's pocket. Norb wished that he was as well heeled. Watching the troll shove a fist full of dirty bills under the punk's face, Norb saw her look back and forth between the clump of bills and the man who was holding them. If she was as hard up as she looked, she'd go for it. She was. Norb glanced the thin trail of needle marks in her arm, revealed as her sleeve pulled up while she was taking the money. Norb rolled down his window. "Where to?" he heard her ask. The troll grunted and indicated the side parking lot where the Greyhound buses parked while taking on passengers. It was hardly a private place, but it was dark, and if they were lucky, no one would think to intrude on their privacy. Still, what a way to make a living, Norb thought, if you could call it that. Norb went back to yawing. Well, the night was a loss, he figured. Murdock would take his fare and flip him a twenty. Good thing he didn't have to declare all of the money Johnny Deathstone had given him. He still might come out of the night with - he counted - one hundred and seventy bucks. He heard a scream from the direction where the punk and troll were supposedly doing it. It was a woman's scream. Getting out of the car, Norb ran toward the parking lot, his pepper spray in one hand and a tire iron in the other. The young punk woman was gone - mostly. What was left was a smoking mass of pinky putrescence. Norb only knew it was her because her head was still there. It was the only recognizable piece of her, and even it was smoking slightly, as if it had just been pulled out from a broiler. The troll was hunched down over her, his hands dripping melted flesh. As if sensing Norb, it turned around. It's gaze hit Norb, knocking the wind out of him. It was just like he'd been physically punched. Dripping melted flesh, bits of skin hanging off of it's fingers, the red eyed thing, still resembling the man it had been, laughed at Norb. Norb saw, as it's mouth opened, a cavernous blackness that seemed to suck at the weak light of the parking lamps nearby, drawing all light away to nothing. Norb could see that it was laughing - but the sound! The noise it made was like a thousand dying voices - pain and suffering all collected together like a band of subtle whispers. It just stood there, laughing at Norb and licking it's fingers with a forked tongue. Sunday, June 11th, 1995, midday. Victoria's Appartment Norb work up, trying to remember what had happened, but even the thought of trying to remember hurt his head. After a few minutes he was strong enough to look around. He was in some sort of guest room, which was unlit but some streaks of light shone through the blends of the window. "I must have been out for some time", Norb mumbled to himself. It was just then that he noticed the big bandage around his chest because the movement to turn to the window hurt him at once. Falling back to the bed, moaning another time, Norb once again fell into a deep darkness. Later he awoke as he felt someone touching his head. He reflexively sat up, or at least tried to as yet another wave of pain raced through his body. "Shh... Calm down" a familiar yet only vaguely remembered voice came to his ears. "You are still hurt badly, but first you'll have to eat something if you want to get better." Now that eating was being mentioned Norb felt the big emptyness of his stomach, even if the pain cut down his appetite. "How long was I unconcious ?", he asked Vicky, whom he now finally recognized through the barely noticable light coming from the nearly closed door to this room. "A very long time, but you shouldn't think about that now." "I'll have to call Ida and my boss to tell them what happened... Oh, by the way WHAT happened ? I can't remember a thing." "Don't worry about that, I already told them you had to go on a trip with some other students, I don't think that anyone will worry about you in the next weeks. I can be VERY convincing, you know..." "But what about this monster, I keep seeing a thing not belonging to this world trying to kill me..., wouldn't I know better I'd think this was some kind of demon or devil." "Before I answer any questions, you WILL eat something and then get some more rest. When you are able to sit up I'll tell you what happened. But either you're very brave or very stupid confronting this thing alone. Even I was only able to drive it off..."
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