csyphrett

no. DT CES

That's funny since there is a report that someone set fire to a Russian troll farm with a molotov. CES

I am going to option out the other Janos Skorzeny today. CES

Chuck Connors was a pretty ruthless old man CES

This is the Roster right now. Certified, I put in John Constatine because he's allowable. I filled my three picks in with Janos Skorzeny , Owen Pitt, and Johnny Smith. Everybody should have four picks, five after noon. We are skipping the weekend. CES Certified The first pick is location. Bangor, Maine The second pick is the monster. Randall Flag Four heroes John Constantine three options Death Tribble The first pick is location. Tokyo, Japan The second pick is the monster. Gojira Four heroes Doctor Daisuke Serizawa three options Psybolt The first pick is location. Cabin outside Morristown Tennessee (Evil Dead) The second pick is the monster. Count Orlock (Nosferatu) Four heroes Cal Denham (King Kong) three options Pariah The first pick is location. Gray 17 (Babylon 5) The second pick is the monster. Micheal (Stargate: Atlantis) Four heroes three options Csyphrett The first pick is location. Castle Rock The second pick is the monster. Janos Skorzeny (Werewolf) Four heroes Owen Pitt (MHI) Johnny Smith (The Dead Zone) three options

I am going to do rosters when I get home. I am two-three picks behind myself. CES

Inherit the Monsters 1955 1 Deputy Bernard Strife ambled along the sidewalk. He did two walking patrols of the downtown such as it was of Earle City, Georgia. Three stores, a diner, a hotel, the jail, a saloon, and a doctor/vet/dentist office made up the strip that he walked. When he did that, he would take the car and drive out to the edges of the county since he also did two driving patrols a day too. Two other deputies and the sheriff shared responsibilities with him. He didn’t trust the other deputies, and the sheriff seemed a bit lackadaisical. On the other hand, Earle City’s biggest claim to fame was not being burned down by Sherman. Strife paused outside Luke’s General Store to look inside the window. Two kids loaded up their pockets from the candy aisle while Luke rang a customer up. The kids ran for the door while the shopkeeper made change. The deputy blocked their way with his thin body. “Empty your pockets,” said Strife. He felt he could catch them if they ran. “We don’t have to do that if we don’t want to,” said the older boy. The other boy nodded in agreement. “Empty your pockets,” said Strife. “Or I’ll empty them for you.” “What’s the problem, Barn?,” asked Luke. He and his female customer stood at the door to the store. The woman slid around the boys and walked away. “I caught these two stealing,” said Strife. “If they don’t empty their pockets, I’m going to find out who they are and take them home to talk to their parents.” “I know who they are,” said Luke. “These are Vernon Pressley’s boys.” “The drunk on Fifty?,” said Strife. “Let’s go talk to your pa. I’m sure he will be glad to see you rolling up in a police car.” The two boys dumped out their pockets as fast as they could. Candy dropped to the sidewalk. They looked up at Strife. The youngest held back tears. “Don’t go into Luke’s anymore,” said the deputy. “Don’t steal. Don’t be stupid. Now get out of here.” The boys ran like the Devil was chasing them. Strife watched them go. He hoped he had straightened them out, but their father was a drunk slob who only worked when he couldn’t freeload. No one knew where Mrs. Pressley had gone. The deputy thought she was buried on the lot they owned. Busting Vernon Pressley’s face with a baton would be the makings of a good day. Putting him in Old Sparky would be even better. Luke looked down at the candy. Most of it had been warped out of shape by being in the boys’ pockets. He needed to get his broom and dustpan to sweep the mess up. Strife walked down to the diner. He frowned at crowd gathered in the place. He liked to hit the diner last because it was right by the jail. He could go in, get a cup of coffee, get a patrol car, then drive his route on the county’s back roads. Now he had a group of black sharecroppers, a group of white townies and farmers, and Bud Leeke, the owner of the diner, shouting at each other. He frowned. He didn’t need a riot. “What’s going on here?,” Strife shouted at the top of his voice. It squeaked to his embarrassment. “These negras don’t want to get out,” said one of the farmers. “Deputy,” said one of the black men. He wore a suit and tie. “We just want some lunch before we go back to work.” “Get out of here, Darkie,” said the farm boy. “Shut up, Toothless,” said Strife. He frowned at the two groups. “So what I have here is twenty five men and boys that will be sharing the three cells of the jail for the next day. That’s eight and a third men to a cell.” “Can’t you get them out of here, Deputy?,” said Leeke, standing as tall as he could behind his counter. He stepped on a box behind it to give him the extra height he needed to run it. “What do you think I’m doing?,” said Strife. “Running a social? The jail is right over there. Start walking.” “I don’t want to be locked up with no negras,” said the farmer. “You should have thought of that before you disturbed the peace,” said Strife. “I know it will be a bit crowded, and two of your cells will have to hold nine men, but it’ll only be for twenty four hours.” “Some of these people still owe me money,” said Leeke. “You can’t just lock them up before they pay me.” “Yes, I can,” said Strife. “Now if these groups of men were to order their food, pay for their food, and leave, I might use the discretionary power of my office to just issue a warning.” “What?,” said Toothless. “I said get your food in a bag and run for the hills before I decide to open your melon like I was carving a jack o’lantern, you moron,” said Strife. “Get in line and let’s go. Otherwise, it’s the hoosegow for whomever wants to stay here and get on my nerves.” “You can’t do this,” was the general rumble. Strife frowned at the challenge to his authority. “Do I have to shoot one of you idiots?,” said the deputy. “You know I will. It will be just like being back in Korea. Let’s go, you knuckleheads. Let’s go!” The men got in line like the broken keyboard of a piano. None of them looked too happy about the arrangement. Strife stood by the door, one hand hanging down by the thirty eight he had bought when he was hired as a deputy. He had only had to use it once. One of Jim Lynch’s cows had been hit by a truck. He had come on the scene afterward. He put the cow down to end its suffering. He decided he could put some of these idiots down to end his suffering. The crowd got smaller as Leeke’s kitchen crew made their orders, bagged them, and sent them up front. Bud took the money with expressions of disdain and anger. He looked over at the deputy. Strife glared back with eyes of hatred. When the last man in line left, Strife looked out in the street to make sure he didn’t have to break up trouble out there too. It would be just like the idiots to start fighting after he gave them an easy out. “You cleared out the lunch crowd,” said Leeke. “I’ll be back to clear them out for dinner too,” said Strife. “Cup of coffee, please.” “That mob is going to get you fired, Strife,” said Leeke. He poured out a cup of black coffee. “They’ll see it as meddling in the way of things.” “Until they do, they better keep the peace,” said Strife. He sipped his coffee. “I don’t have time to babysit children because they don’t like the way things are changing.” “Good luck on that,” said Leeke. “Afternoon patrol?” “Someone’s got to do it,” said Strife. “I’ll be back to keep an eye on things.” “Earle City is losing a bit of itself everyday,” said Leeke. “Pretty soon, the only thing here will be this diner and the jail.” “And I will still be doing patrols until that day comes,” said Strife. He finished his coffee. “Put up a sign that says you don’t want black people eating here, Bud. It’ll cut down on your problems.” “Why?,” said Leeke. “Their money is just as good as a white man’s.” Strife shook his head as he headed out of the diner. He walked over to the jail and got behind the wheel of the patrol car. He turned the engine over and started out of town. The county wasn’t that big, and most of it was given to farms of one kind or another. Earle City served as the county seat, with housing around the strip for people working in town, or out on the farms. It usually took Strife about an hour to circle the area and return to town. Sometimes he would run into something he had to deal with before he could get back to town. That afternoon Strife saw a stranger walking along the road. He wore a dun trenchcoat and smoked a cigar. Upraised eyebrows formed natural question marks on the craggy face. The deputy pulled to a stop beside the walker. “Need help?,” Strife asked. “Not really, Deputy,” said the stranger. “I’m going down to visit my friend, Joe.” “Joe who?,” asked Strife. There were five Joes within reach of where they talked. “Carlson,” said the stranger. “He lived down the road here the last time I came through.” “He’s not living down there now,” said Strife. “He’s at Holly Oak Cemetery.” “Really?,” said the stranger. “What did he die of if I might inquire?” “I don’t know,” said Strife. “I just know one of the other deputies was asked to make a check and they found him dead.” “Holly Oak Cemetery?,” asked the stranger. “Get in and I’ll take you over there,” said Strife. “It’s on my way back to town.” The stranger got in the front seat. He puffed on his cigar as he pulled his coat around him. “You know Joe long?,” asked Strife. He pulled off the shoulder of the road and headed along the back roads toward town. “Almost all of his life,” said the stranger. “I knew his old man too.” “I don’t remember seeing you in Earle City before,” said Strife. “I come through once in a while,” said the stranger. “It’s okay.” Strife looked at his passenger. The man smoked his cigar, and looked out the opened window. He seemed harmless enough. The cemetery’s fence appeared as they drove down the road. The deputy looked for the gate as the car rolled along. He pulled in to the main drive and pulled off the road. He got out and looked around. The man in the coat walked around the car. He chewed on his cigar. He examined the generally flat stones mixed with more angelic monuments and tombs. “I think Joe’s grave is over this way,” said Strife. He picked a path on the lawn and started walking. He checked the names on the stones as he went. He paused when he reached the Carlson grave. A mound of dirt sat on one side. Carlson’s open coffin rested in the bottom of the opened grave. Strife looked around. He stood alone in the empty graveyard. The man in the coat had vanished while he was looking for the right grave. Strife rubbed the back of his head. He had an open grave and a stranger in town looking for the deceased. What did he do about it? The first thing he needed to do was let the sheriff know about it so they could be on the look out for Joe Carlson, or the other man, walking around. He doubted anything would get done unless he came up with something, but at that moment he was stumped and didn’t like it. Strife walked back to the patrol car. He got behind the wheel. He picked up the radio mike. What should he say? He decided that a simple report should be enough. Once it was logged, the sheriff might run with it, or he might turn it over to the State Police. Strife didn’t think there was enough around to search anywhere for the body. The only evidence he saw was his footprints in the grass. The body snatchers might have left clues for anyone else to find, but he doubted it. He triggered the mike. He might as well get this over with so he could head in and write a report on it. “Sheriff’s Office?,” he said into the mike. “This is Strife.” “Go ahead, Barney,” said the sheriff. “I have a missing body down here at Holly Oak,” said Strife. “Did we get an exhumation order no one told me about?” “Not that I know of,” said the sheriff. “What do you have?” “Someone dug up Joe Carlson and took him,” said Strife. “I’ll call around and see if there was a problem,” said the sheriff. “Stay out there and make sure they don’t take anyone else.” “Sure,” said Strife. //197347

One monster type is okay. I was thinking of single monsters only but I suppose a flock of something would be okay. CES

5 Tribe felt the pain rolling through his body. He tried to hold himself still while he looked at it with his mind. Clonus had done a number on him. That was what he got for not paying attention to his surroundings. He supposed he should be happy to be alive. He cracked a small smile. He could be hurt, but he couldn’t be killed. He reached out and touched the city. Resources flowed into his body. The cracked bones and bruises flowed out. He dispersed them over a wide area so no one would notice what he had done to heal himself. It was time to get out of the box he was in and look for his enemy. Tribe climbed on top of the cargo. He felt the steel ceiling with his hand. Then he punched a hole through it, mending the bones of his hand the same way he had healed all of his earlier battle wounds. He pushed the steel back out of his way so he could climb on the back of the moving truck. He looked back. The headquarters was rapidly receding from view. Did he jump down and go back, or stay with the truck and hope it led him somewhere? Maybe he should stop the truck so he could figure out what to do. Tribe walked down the trailer. He paused at the end, watching the truck for a second as he thought about what he wanted to do. One of Clonus’s clones drove. He could tell that from the arm sticking out the window. If he attacked, the clone could spawn an army to overwhelm him. On the other hand, it would have to stop the truck to be really effective. He could possibly attack and take it out before it could do anything to stop him. He wondered how well it would do in the dream time. Tribe waited for the traffic on the highway to thin. He had no interest in disrupting other people’s plans. He only wanted to stop Clonus to keep his garden straightened out. Causing a pile up would not serve that in any way. The truck entered a lull with no other car around. The thin man dropped down on the cab and grabbed the arm. He commanded the clone to go to sleep. The hive mentality tried to fight his command, but he had the will of the city behind him. The clone driver slumped over the wheel. Tribe climbed down and opened the door. He pushed the clone out of the way. He got behind the wheel and slowed the truck down into the shoulder of the road. He set the blinkers as it rolled to a stop. Tribe grabbed the clone’s face. He exerted his will to peer around inside the brain. He found the link to the rest of them. He almost smiled. Following the link in the real world should let him get close enough to capture Clonus without a real fight. He didn’t like the shadow at the back of the clone’s memories. Assault had been a constant foe of the Arc. He had supposedly died in an explosion. Tribe considered what he should do. He could turn things over to the authorities, but he didn’t see how they could do a better job than he was doing. He doubted they would believe him. And the dream time and his place in it was his to defend. He had to find Clonus, put him down, and then use that to find Assault somehow. It seemed easy when he said it in his head. Finding Clonus should be easy since he had a piece of the man in the cab with him. Dealing with him would be much harder. Tribe decided that he could use the truck to get where he had to go until he was done. Then he could call the police to come get it wherever he abandoned it. That made his plan easier to carry out. The next thing to do was turn around and head back to the depot and pick up Clonus’s trail. Then he could drive to where the mastermind had set up his new base and have a quiet talk with the man. Barring that, he would have a loud talk with the man while committing violence against his expanding horde. Whatever Assault wanted had to be opposed. He had made a name for himself as someone as dangerous as Dr. Hoz. He had to be stopped before he got what he wanted. Clonus should know better than to work with Assault. His reputation for ending partnerships was notorious. The horde would have a fight for his life against the villain. Tribe doubted he could do anything to the villain, but he couldn’t stop at that point. Someone had to stop Clonus and Assault. He had to be the man. He hoped he had a bigger spot for the turtles when he got home. He pulled out on the road. He drove down to the next exit, crossed the bridge, then turned down the ramp to go back to where the truck had come from before Clonus had stolen it. He saw the fence where he had been ambushed. The rental trucks had rolled out. He paused for a moment. Which way should he go from there? He decided to head out on the surface streets. He had a vague idea that Clonus had decided to settle somewhere on the other side of the city. He made sure that his captive still slept. He didn’t want to deal with a one man army pushing him out of the truck at high speed. Tribe followed the mental link pointing out of the clone to the rest of his bodies. He drove slower than usual because of the split in his attention. It took a certain amount of concentration to sift a hostile mind. Doing that and driving could lead to a bad accident if he wasn’t careful. He rolled to a stop when he saw the property sign on the road. He looked around. He didn’t see the one man army. The link pointed off the road. He climbed down from the cab. He doubted Clonus had time to make his security proof against common burglars. He had a window to get things done. He looked at the lights from the city. He didn’t feel as strong as he should. He decided that he had moved to the edge of his range. He only possessed the strength he could draw from the Dreamtime. That had to be enough to take care of the next part of this. Clonus could not be allowed to run free. And as long as one clone was out there, he could switch bodies and flee while the rest of him fought a delaying action against anyone trying to arrest him. Tribe felt that if he could take down the main mass and keep them under, then he could track any free clones moving around away from the scene. He crept from the parked truck. He hoped that it was out of sight of the house. He needed all the surprise he could muster if he wanted to win the fight. Clonus had shown he was hard to beat if he knew you were coming. Tribe wondered how much of a lightning bolt Arc had to generate to capture him the first time they fought. Tribe crept closer to the house. He was a shadow among other shadows. He found a guard looking out into the night. He put the clone to sleep with a grab and a mental command. He propped the body next to a single tree in the yard. If he was found by the other clones, they would think he was goldbricking. Tribe moved closer to the house. He didn’t see any artificial security. He moved to the back door. He could enter there and try to take Clonus by surprise. If he succeeded, he could think about how to deal with Assault. He wasn’t looking forward to that. He checked the door to see if it was locked. The doorknob turned in his hand. He could go in and settle things, but he had to be quick. Clonus could easily stop him with his multiplying power. He had to prevent the cloning process no matter what. Tribe eased the door open. Two clones played cards at the kitchen table. Another cooked at the stove. He hit the two at the table in passing on his way to the stove. He slammed that clone into the cabinets above the stove before dropping him. He turned and put the other two asleep. Tribe went to the kitchen door. He expected a small army coming through the door. He needed to make sure to do as much damage as he could before they carried him away. Nothing happened. He expected something. Maybe Clonus’s attention was on something else. Tribe went to the door to the rest of the house. He peered around the frame. Clones walked everywhere. They carried furniture and decorative fixtures to places on the empty floor and walls. He realized Clonus was still moving in. Could he fight all of the clones he saw? What happened if he wasn’t fast enough? He didn’t want to take another beating. Then a plan came to mind and taking a beating seemed to be the only option. He closed his eyes and thought. He didn’t see any other plan that would work in the time he had. Assault might call at any minute. He hated the thought he was going to allow Clonus to beat on him unless he was lucky and knocked all of them out before they could start splitting apart. Tribe sprinted forward. He flew into the closest clones. They dropped the couch they were carrying and slammed into others like pinballs. He kept moving forward, aiming for the next closest clones. His strength allowed him to send men flying without having to use any special technique. He took down one more before being engulfed by a wave of Clonus. He concentrated on ignoring the pain of his beating. He had to hold on. He felt bones being broken as the beating of a drum. He waited, holding on to the pain. He kept his focus. “You’re relentless, Tribe.” said Clonus. He came to the front of the crowd. “You just take a beating and come back for more. I respect that, but I can’t have you following me around. I have important villain stuff to do.” Tribe channeled his beating into the speaking Clonus, reasoning that the controlling brain was in there. The man screamed at the sudden pain wracking him. His clones looked at him with surprise and bewilderment. The thin man shut down the link and all the clones dropped to the floor in splashes of material.

One monster, please CES

Two archers and a monster. This team needs some kind of shapechanger/speedster/psychic CES

I agree with Tranq. Lion-O himself is a pretty straight forward build with high charteristics, some technical skills, some martial arts. Disadvantages/complications depend on the background. He also has an Oaf that gives him super leap, clinging, a killing attack and a boost to his hand attack. The sword of omens can be a multipower or an oaf which gives the character energy blast, hka, clairvoyance with appropriate limits, and summon. it may have advantages that help it against certain things like affects desolid, Armor piercing, so forth. CES

Yes. CES

People are still trying to dig out from under Florence. We need Trump to come back with his Brawny CES

i don't know if they were all couriers or from the office itself. They had set up at the library, two blocks down from the post office with US MAIL NOT FOR SELL signs and T-shirts. They were walking from the library to the corner and back again. I was dropping my kid off and asked some of them what was going on. They said that the government was trying to privatize the USPS. That's when I said Early voting is next week. Vote against these people. CES

Local postal service protesting the privatizing of the mail. I told the few I talked to vote against the Republicans next week. As Jack Reacher always says, Get your retaliation in first. CES

The normal stuff: Godzilla, Frankenstein , Grabboids. ETC As the monster is the second pick of the draft, they should be the star and the monster hunters should be tailored to the threat. No Yes, the Palindromedary is a monster CES

I am taking Castle Rock as my first pick. CES

Secret Service 1938 20 Rafferty stood on a street corner a few feet from the Yard entrance. He rubbed his face as he thought about what he could do for the rest of his life. He had been questioned by a new detective constable for hours. The man wanted to know everything he had done in the last two days. He stuck with sleeping and drinking off his depression after finding out that Corklin was dead. The murdered man was the only one who could clear his reputation. Now he stood on the corner and wondered what he was going to do next. He doubted Sir Laurence was going to keep him on. He had taken Mick Brown, but his identity had been revealed to Inspector Hawley and the remains of the Brown Gang. Killing Brown had been enough of a reason for them to come calling, but knowing he was a masked vigilante outside the law would just add fuel to the fire. A cab rolled up to the corner. He frowned as the passenger leaned over. Sir Laurence gestured for him to get in. Rafferty slid in the back seat. He frowned at the glass between them and the driver. “It’s for his protection,” said Sir Laurence. “Are you reinstated?” “No,” said Rafferty. “The Yard has dozens of questions about my involvement in all this.” “I know,” said Sir Laurence. “I’m afraid I can’t push from my office to get you rehired. The other job is still open.” “So you want me to play dress up and chase down thugs in the night?,” said Rafferty. “Seizing Mr. Brown’s books have given us enough information to look at his partners through legal means,” said Sir Laurence. “I imagine that some of the dock criminals will move around as we clear one gang up for another to take its place.” “And you want me to harass these growing gangs?,” asked Rafferty. “I would prefer surgical strikes where you cut away the parts we’re interested in,” said Sir Laurence. “I expect things will go worse than that.” “What about Hawley?,” asked Rafferty. “I talked to the Inspector,” said Sir Laurence. “He has been read in to the public face of the organization. He knows he is not to talk to anyone until he is released.” “When will that happen?,” said Rafferty. “Possibly never,” said Sir Laurence. “The war we’re undertaking will possibly create a hole in the power structures of Europe that the Commandoes will be needed long after our lifetimes are over.” “So we’ll be fighting another world war,” said Rafferty. “We’ll be fighting a different sort of war,” said the knight. “We’ll be fighting in the shadows to do things that no other force could hope to do. More public branches will be moving to help the Allied Command in planning and execution behind enemy lines.” “And we will be helping the war effort by keeping problems here at home down,” said Rafferty. “There won’t be any glory in it,” said Sir Laurence. “You already knew that when you were assigned to look into the Brown Gang. The mask is more important than the man.” “Who was the man who saved my life outside of the Unicorn?,” said Rafferty. “You don’t need to know that,” said Sir Laurence. “I’m recruiting more Commandoes from across the commonwealth. You’re the first, but not the last.” “What’s next?,” said Rafferty. “I’m going to drop you off,” said Sir Laurence. “Then you are to take a week to think about things. Call the Operator when you’re ready. There will be an assignment waiting on you.” “The spy network?,” asked Rafferty. “MI-6 wants to leave it in place,” said Sir Laurence. “Capturing Bones has forced them to look elsewhere for a contract killer.” “So we’re going to foil them by letting them try to kill someone and taking out their shooter?,” said Rafferty. “No,” said Sir Laurence. “I already have things in place. Enjoy your week. Remember to file a report about everything you have done. We’ll need it to find other links to Brown’s operations. If you want to keep going after that week, call the Operator.” "Can I ask a personal question?,” said Rafferty. “Just one,” said Sir Laurence. “How much of this have you done before?,” Rafferty asked. “Quite a bit actually,” said Sir Laurence. “The old organization was asked to disband after the war. The ministry didn’t need us, and wouldn’t for a long time was the common view. After the Prime Minister met with Hitler, the call went out to reactivate my old unit. The problem was there was only two of us left. So I was asked to take on the responsibility to execute the Commando Program’s birth, and I agreed.” “Thank you,” said Rafferty. “That explains a lot.” “I’m going to let you out here,” said Sir Laurence. He rapped on the window. “Try not to do anything stupid before you call.” The cab pulled to the curb. Rafferty got out, looking around. He had paid sporadic attention to where they were going. He smiled. He had been put out within walking distance of the Unicorn. He should have expected that. He walked down to the pub and stepped inside. The regulars hadn’t started coming in yet. He had time to get something and head for home before he had to start answering questions from the crowd. “Oi!,” said Josie. “It’s the prodigal son returned at last.” “How’s it going?,” said Rafferty. “It was an exciting few minutes after the police hauled you off, Jimmy,” said Tolliver. He poured a glass of beer from a spigot behind the bar. He handed it over. “I’m sure,” said Rafferty. “It’s been a long boring talk in a featureless room for me the last day, or so. I would like to have your famous chicken dinner if you don’t mind.” “I don’t see why not,” said Tolliver. “What’s going on?” “Nothing,” said Rafferty. “I have a job offer to consider, but my days as a detective constable are over as far as the Crown is concerned. You already knew that, so there’s not much to add to it.” “Working for that toff we saw you with, Jimmy?,” said Josie. “I’m thinking about it,” said Rafferty. “It’s investigative work, it pays, and it’s something I’m good at.” “Finding bad apples is a knack you have,” said Tolliver. He poured himself a shot of whiskey. He sipped it. “What happens to the neighborhood?” “Nothing,” said Rafferty. “Apparently I will have time off so I can keep an eye on things around here, and the old place. I don’t know what I will be doing next, but it won’t be anything rougher than what I was doing for the Yard.” “How many times you get shot at working for the peelers, Jimmy?,” said Tolliver. “Maybe you should consider things before you jump into them.” “I still have to pay the rent,” said Rafferty. “Not all of us are a rich landlord, restauranteur, and wine dealer with an interest in exotic cheeses.” “You said you wouldn’t say anything about the cheeses,” said Tolliver. “That is between me and my supplier.” “As long as that supplier wasn’t Mick Brown, you should be okay,” said Rafferty. “You did for him, chum,” said Tolliver. “You better watch your back when the rest of those blokes get out of prison. They’ll figure out if they want to start over, or join someone else, and then some of them will come looking for you.” “I think that would be a bad idea for them to do,” said Rafferty. “War is coming on, and settling scores will be a bad idea.” “Having bad ideas never stopped no one from trying them out,” said Tolliver. “I can’t argue with that,” said Rafferty. He glanced at his glass. He had drank half while they were talking. He might need to keep an eye on that. He didn’t want to get so drunk that his reflexes suffered. Mick Brown’s gang wasn’t the only people who might want to have a talk with him now that he wasn’t protected by the Yard’s authority. The change of living quarters had probably been a good idea even though he had thought he had been compromised as early as his first night going after Brown. He had to be more careful dealing with the next target on Fletcher’s list. He didn’t want them even thinking they could threaten the Unicorn to get to him. He doubted that Fletcher wanted him to burn everything to the ground. He was not opposed to the idea. He doubted he would have to be that extreme chasing down other criminals. Some of them would be reeling from what had happened to Brown. It would make them easy targets. He sensed that Fletcher would use him to target criminals known to be operating against the government in some fashion. It would be up to him to expand the list of potential targets he might want to chase down. He wondered if he could get information on criminals that weren’t targeted by the Commandoes. Josie appeared with a plate of grilled chicken, brussel sprouts, and a piece of celery. She put it on the bar with a flourish. “Looks good,” said Rafferty. He finished his glass of beer. “Can I have another?” Josie drew more beer from the tap for him. She handed the glass back. “Thanks,” said Rafferty. “The toff gave me a week to think about the job. I’m going to call him tomorrow and see what he has for me.” “Be careful, Jimmy,” said Josie. “Running against the likes of Mick Brown can’t be good.” “Don’t worry,” said Rafferty. “I’ll protect the Unicorn with my life.” “That goes without saying,” said Tolliver. Rafferty smiled as he dug into his lunch. He felt this was worth fighting for even if you didn’t know who you were fighting, or why. Fletcher would do what he could for him but if he needed to be sent out to get something done, it would be to get something done and not to waste time on a goal that meant nothing. And Fletcher would help him protect his neighborhood as part of the deal. He still had to work out where he stood with Hawley, but that could wait until he knew where he stood with himself first. Most police did vigilante actions sometimes, but now he had to do it as part of a job. That wouldn’t sit well with the inspector. He wondered how much Fletcher revealed about his organization. He might have traded Brown’s records for silence. On the other hand, he might have said be silent, or it’s to the tower with you. If you were going to abuse the law to set up masked men to target criminals, you were not going to stop because an inspector said something. Rafferty finished his food and beer. He smiled as he headed out the door. He needed to get a nap and then head out into the night life and look around. Other bad men wanted Brown’s spot. This would be his chance to look at some of them. He might have to visit them later as his other face. //195272

The draft starts two hours and thirty eight minutes from now CES

Secret Service 1938 19 Rafferty walked into the Rotten Unicorn. He waved at some of the crowd he recognized as he went to a table in the back. It was close to the kitchen in case he had to duck out the back. He settled in place. All he had to do now was wait for something to happen. How long could that take? Josie, one of the servers, approached. She smiled at Rafferty as he watched the crowd. “Expecting someone?,” she said. “I don’t know,” said Rafferty. “Could I have a beer?” “Yes,” said Josie. “We have some fish in, and some of the chicken you like.” “I don’t know how long I’ll be able to stay,” said Rafferty. “If nothing happens, I’ll take you up on the chicken.” “Right,” said Josie. “I’ll be right back.” She walked away, talking to some of the patrons at the bar. Rafferty watched the crowd. He didn’t see anyone acting suspicious. Maybe they were wasting their time. He had no way of knowing. He was getting paid to wait, so he would wait. Eventually something would happen. Josie came back with his beer. He sipped it as he watched the room. Would Brown enter the pub with guns blazing? Were the customers and staff at risk? Should he be sitting here waiting for Brown to show up? He and Hawley had put a dent in Brown’s manpower. That should keep the gangster down for a bit. No one wanted to deal with someone under official scrutiny. One of the customers got up and went to the bar. He asked for the phone. He made a hurried call. He went back to his table next to the door. Rafferty leaned back in his chair. Should he make a phone call himself? Should he wait for Sir Laurence to show up and extricate him out of this mess? Did he want to remain where he was? How much time did he have before the villains arrived to take him away? He decided the best thing to do was wait. He didn’t know what was going on outside the pub. He didn’t want to walk into an ambush. Buying time seemed reasonable to him. Sir Laurence would have someone waiting outside in case there was trouble. He doubted there would be an excessive presence. The knight seemed to like things on the quiet side. Rafferty watched the room while he sipped his beer. No one else moved for the phone. People going out the door talked about work and what they were doing after. The man who had used the phone sat at his table and smoked as he looked out the window. Josie made her way around the room. She cleaned the tables as she went. She paused at Rafferty’s table before going into the kitchen. “Would you like anything else?,” she said. “Could you bring me another beer, and a plate of chicken,” said Rafferty. “I might be here for a while.” “I’ll get you an order,” said Josie. “We have some greens to go with it.” “That would be good,” said Rafferty. “Thanks, Josie.” “I’ll bring you another glass in a moment,” said Josie. She carried the dirty glasses into the kitchen to be washed. She walked back out and went to the bar. She poured out a glass of beer and carried it back to Rafferty. She set it on the table with a quiet thump. “Is there a problem?,” Josie asked. “I angered Mick Brown, and I think one of his men is sitting at the table next to the door,” said Rafferty. “I think he called Brown to tell him where I am.” “You don’t seem that worried,” said Josie. “He won’t do anything while I am eating dinner,” said Rafferty. “He’ll wait until I head outside.” “Do you want me to call the peelers for you?,” said Josie. “No,” said Rafferty. “I don’t want the police involved in whatever happens. Brown knows people on the force. It’s better if I handle things on my own.” “No, it isn’t,” said Josie. “No one messes with the Unicorn.” “Don’t worry, Josie,” said Rafferty. “Things will work out. I just want to eat before there is a problem I have to fix.” “Remember what I said,” said Josie. She walked through the swinging door to the kitchen. Rafferty smiled. You messed with the Unicorn, and you got the horn. He sipped at the unfinished first glass of beer as he watched the room and waited. If Brown did make a play inside the pub, there would be problems for him. Would he massacre all these witnesses? He realized he had no way to be certain what Brown would do to get back on top of his game. Kidnaping Hawley and not killing him had been a mistake. Now the whole police force was looking for him. The ex-detective watched the man by the door as he waited for his chicken. If the man left, he would too. He couldn’t let the front of the pub be shot up just to trap his enemy. Josie came with his plate after he had finished the first beer. He thanked her as he picked at the food with a fork. He kept an eye on his watcher as he ate. How long did he have? He decided to eat half the chicken at least. The greens didn’t matter that much to him. If the bloke got up to go, he would be right behind. Rafferty sliced off pieces of chicken with his knife and fork. He ate slowly to give the idea that he wasn’t going anywhere for some time. He didn’t want his watcher to know that he had been spotted. “Hey, Jimmy,” said Tolliver, the bartender and owner of the pub. He looked like someone had used his face for a punching bag and his body to smuggle a laundry. “There’s a call for you.” “Thanks, Toll,” said Rafferty. He walked over and picked up the receiver. “Rafferty here.” “Operator,” said the caller. “Ready for instructions?” “Go ahead,” said Rafferty. He smiled. Fletcher had a plan to solve the problem. “You are to wait ten minutes, then leave the Unicorn,” said the Operator. “Turn right and walk down the street.” “Got it,” said Rafferty. “Anything else?” “No,” said the Operator. He hung up. Rafferty handed the phone back to Tolliver before going back to his table. He finished the chicken and his beer in a few minutes. He waited until the time was up before he got up and went the door. He went through and turned right like he had been instructed. The watchman came out of the Unicorn and followed from a distance. Rafferty wondered what trap was going to be sprung. He kept an eye on the street, thinking about how empty it felt. Shouldn’t there be people walking along with him? He heard the thumping of feet behind him. He turned. The watchman had a cosh in hand as he rushed at the detective. He tried to bring the weight in a sack down on his target’s head. Hands grabbed the arm to keep the weapon at bay. He punched with the other hand to free his other arm. Rafferty winced at the blow to his ribs. He pulled on the captured arm while turning. He aimed his captive at the closest wall. The watchman put up a hand to protect his face from the collision. The detective fell on the man and slammed his face in the ground while trying to keep a grip on the wrist to keep the cosh at bay. Cars rolled up. Men got out and surrounded the fight. Some of them had bandages from what had happened earlier in the day. Mick Brown pushed through the remains of his mob. “Hands up, Rafferty,” said Brown. “It’s time for a slow ride.” Rafferty stood. He held his hands up. He gave the watchman a kick in the ribs. “The police are looking for you, Mick,” said Rafferty. “I think you should turn yourself in.” “I think that I am going to take care of you,” said Brown. “Then I’m leaving the country.” “Really?,” said Rafferty. He wished he had a bulletproof vest. “Yes,” said Brown. He pulled a pistol from under his coat. “I need to make a public example out of you. No one can be allowed to stand up to the Brown Gang.” A black car rolled up on the other side of the gang’s transportation. A man in an old army uniform and a face mask shot through the windows of the parked cars with a revolver. That sent the gang scrambling. Rafferty charged Brown as he ducked for cover. He hit the bigger man and they both went down. Brown rocked him with a back hand to the face. He gritted his teeth and slammed the man’s head against the concrete sidewalk. Brown brought the pistol to shoot at point blank range. Rafferty fell on the arm, pointing the pistol at the man’s own chin. The gangster pushed to get the weight off his arm so he could shoot. The detective heaved up and crashed down with his full weight on that arm. The gun went off. Rafferty grabbed the pistol. He had seen plenty of men with their faces blown off during the war. What was one more? He rolled from the body and shot at the gang. They had concentrated their firing at the black car and its masked driver. None had considered the detective a threat compared to someone shooting at them. He proved them wrong in a handful of seconds. Rafferty got to his feet. He kicked weapons away from hands as he looked around. Customers from inside the Unicorn poured out in the street. He waved at them. The black car pulled away in a cloud of smoke. Rafferty looked around. Police whistles filled the air. He made a face. It looked like he was going to spend the rest of the night talking to his former colleagues about what happened. “Well, Jimmy,” said Tolliver. “It’s a good thing that other man saved your life, isn’t it?” Rafferty nodded. He dropped the empty pistol to the sidewalk.

Sorry, Kav committed perjury. He won't be called on it because Chuck Grassley would gnaw off his own arm than admit that he should vote no and get another guy. This guy comes across as an idiot. CES

The picks start next Monday, Certified. CES

The Draft is up to field questions before it starts next Monday. CES

The Halloween Showdown Superdraft is about the monsters this year. The goal is to create a plot around the monster of your choice and the heroes trying to stop it from doing its business. Will any team be up to the task of protecting its turf from a giant horde of destruction. The first pick is location. The pick is exclusive. The second pick is the monster. He/she/it is the hero of the draft. Four heroes and three options can be picked in any order after the first two picks. We want normal human/human baseline protagonists for the heroes. The edge of this is Buffy and Doc Savage, so Jack O'Neill is in, the Doctor is out. No masked men need apply. The three options can be used to add in other monsters, weapons of mass destruction, or a scientist to babble about giant ants not being possible. The Draft will start Monday, October 8th at Noon Eastern Standard and skip the weekends. CES