Issue 1 Downtime

The Headmistress has been indisposed of late, submerged in the tank of the University's Cerebra Womb not long after she received a certain phone call. Her mind is spread out over the British isles, searching for something, someone.

Many dream of ravens.

There's an endless sea of minds out there and out of the two needles she is looking for in this haystack one is doing her best to avoid her while it's in the other's nature to become as much as the hay near it as possible. And as the afternoon drags on and Sam's mind swims through the endless expanse of minds out there she'll grow to notice the ones calling out to her more and more. A bar fight here, a regional league soccer match there, a mourning widow, a disgruntled teen setting up a crude shrine that smells overwhelmingly of patchouli, a freezing homeless man...

When suddenly something flares up, shining like a bright beacon amidst everything else that fades into the background by comparison. It doesn't just demand Sam's attention, it grabs it with it's sheer strength. Strength that pours over Sam, there for the taking if she wishes to...

Portions of the flock linger at each of the spots, almost in spite of Sam's determination. Perhaps it's just that she's growing tired, or perhaps it's that it feels easy to slip into that pattern.

So, quite naturally, that beacon catches the attention of her weary mind. She begins to focus in on it.

It's reminiscent of Nailah's libation, but only barely. If that was as energizing as a cup of coffee then this is like a syringe of adrenaline. And it's hers for the taking should she accept it. It's somehow lacking the intimacy and genuine dedication of Nailah's offering though...

The flock circles around, trying to feel out just what this is coming from, though the temptation is strong...

It's impossible to just discard it, especially when focusing her attention on it some of the swirling energy clings to Sam. Following it to it's source Sam is immersed in vague impressions. A dark room, wet and sticky, the smell of blood, somebody shouting Sam's name, a dagger glints before plunging into the warm darkness, a white visage in the shadows.

The flock gathers around. Its true what they say. Sometimes you just have to know what to build.

Still, something nags at Samantha.

The words "Not again" echo from several different points in the flock, silent to most, but subconsciously felt even by normal mo ...humans.

However for those that know how to listen...

The strange, yet familiar figure fades away as the rest of the offering fades to the foreground. A man is kneeling in a pool of blood, being barely kept upright by being tied to a short post of some sort by... well it's best not to think too hard on what those slick 'ropes' are or why they originate from his gut. He is very dead.

Though the flock is even now absorbing this image that very much calls to the Morrigan, more words flutter though it.

"Coming for you. Won't be denied this time."

Back in the tank, Samantha mentally activates Cerebra's locating functions to triangulate the murder scene's position for the authorities.

It's somewhere in London, but with her intent complete Mel is doing her best to keep Sam from getting too precise a lock on the location.

Samantha tries to refine the location a few times before a cry of frustration spreads through the flock. It remains circling around the site for awhile longer.

After waiting for hours and hours for Sam to come out by herself Nailah faces the fact that she's not going to anytime soon without intervention. So she finds herself standing in front of the doors to the Cerebra chamber, banging on the steel door more to underline the thought she's sending into the aether.

"Sam!"

It takes a few moments for her mind to focus back near her physical body. She frowns in the tank.

"...what couldn't wait?"

"She got out." she puts two and two together.

"Left him on..." she talks to herself, trailing off as the pieces fall into place and a timeline lights up in her mind's eye. She bangs her fist on the door again. "Sam, you have to get out of there!"

"She's leading you into a trap!" she says as she punches her identification into the terminal to force the door to the chamber open.

The doors hiss open, Samantha still suspended in the tank.

"She thinks she's clever. She's mistaken. This won't save her."

"Yes, I'm sure you'd be the one deity accepting human sacrifice to be perfectly nice and cuddly..." Nailah tells as she hurries over to the controls for the Cerebra tank, trying hard to keep her mental barriers up while she's running into the center of the machine's psychic amplification. Holding one arm up against the intangible storm she yanks on the emergency release lever.

"What do you think you're..."

She trails off as the amplification cuts out, the abruptness of losing her connection clearly causing her discomfort just before the tank starts to drain.

She coughs, collapsing on the still wet platform as the tank opens.

"...damn you," she mutters weakly.

"Keeping you from chasing down a particularly dark rabbit hole." she frowns as she tries to help Sam sit up.

She grimaces, the fatigue from what she'd been doing finally bearing down on her.

"She's... she's got to pay."

"And she will. But what, pray tell, were you planning on doing once you've exhausted yourself to get to her?"