The Reporter Prepares For Action

<> Demiurge says "At the point when we paused last time, Gabe had decided to use his Media Contacts to find out Stuff. Or perhaps just to sidle away from the mob."

<> Gabriel says "Sidle away is about right. :)"

<> Demiurge says "I'm prepared to assume Gabriel knows a few newspaper or television types currently based in England. Or both."

<> Demiurge says "Would they be the tabloid/splash type, or the serious newspaper/BBC type?"

<> Gabriel says "Both!"

<> Gabriel says "A smattering of people. Lots of tabloid people, some serious. You know, people talk."

In his notebook, Gabriel is aware that he carries... telephone numbers. Aha.

<> Demiurge says "Gabriel, if you want, describe a contact of yours who you know is currently based in London. Or you can leave me to make one up. ;)"

<> Gabriel says "Make one up. :)"

<> Demiurge says "Okay. You remember that you last heard of Samson Birds in London, working for Sky television and having moved from active reporting to actually having his own mini news program."

<> Demiurge says "Originally English, spent a few decades in the USA, moved back to England. Cool guy. Always sucking mints and then swallowing whiskey."

<> Gabriel says "Oh cool. I'll call him."

Gabriel sneaks away from the limo, and the group with the briefcase. He still has his sword under his jacket.

<> arcangel . o O (Long jacket.)

<> Demiurge says "Hey, Macleod can do it!"

Soon he is safe away. Having muttered something about going to talk to friends.

Gabriel wanders through London, looking for suspicious looking tall red things that are occasionally called phone booths.

Aha! There hoves one on the corner. With little cards stuck into it promising the helpful service of many young ladies with odd and interesting talents.

Gabriel slides into the phone booth, messes with some coinage, and finally figures out which coins are which and which ones can go into the nice slot.

The phone does the click and ring thing.

Gabriel dials the name of his contact. Beep beep bloop.

A seductive female voice says, "Mr Birds' office. Can I *help* you?"

Gabriel says "Hi, this is Gabriel Knight. I'm a friend of Samson Birds? I'm on assignment in London, and I might have some information worth his time."

The female voice says, "Just a moment, please." There's a click, then some holding pop song music starts.

Gabriel winces. Man. Bad 90's pop.

A few minutes later, it breaks off, and Samson's voice comes on. "Gabe! Hi! Whatcha doing over here?"

Gabriel says "I was lured over here with the promise of money. Have you done lunch?"

Samson says, "I can do it late if you've got something interesting. Got a place to go to, or want to experience the big sleaze with me?"

Gabriel says "I'll take door number two, maestro."

Samson says, "Fine by me. Come on over to the Saracen's Head. It's off Tottenham Court Road, near the tube there. Ask for my table. I'll be waiting."

<> Gabriel says "Hey, I know WHERE THAT'S AT."

<> Gabriel looks for the Burger King.

Gabriel says "Cool. I'll see you in a few."

Samson says, "It's a deal." His phone clicks off.

Gabriel hangs up, and wanders, gabelike, toward the nearest tube train entrance. He makes a special effort to Mind the Gap.

<> Demiurge laughs.

The Tube takes Gabriel swiftly to Tottenham Court Road. No strikes today.

It's not hard to find the Saracen's Head. It's an old smoky pub, with excellent smells coming from the back room.

Gabriel wanders into the Saracen's Head, baby. He peers through the smoke for his contact.

Samson waves at him from a distant table.

Gabriel wanders over to the table and sits down across from his contact. "Soooo... baby... what's happening?"

Samson laughs, and shoves across a glass of Gabe's favorite brand of whiskey. "Hey, I figured you'd tell me."

Gabriel takes the glass and takes a nice healthy pull. "Yeah, well, it's been a wacky day, baby. It's been wacky, full of wacky people doing wacky things."

Samson swigs his own whiskey. "How wacky, kid?"

Gabriel says "Real wacky. Like, walking dead wacky. Let me tell you this story."

Gabriel leans in and recounts the story of the will reading, the guy getting shot, and the zombies. He leaves out the sword under his coat. "And I got pictures, baby. I got it on film."

Gabriel also doesn't mention that he doesn't have himself being particularly heroic and cool on film.

Samson just blinks, slowly.

Samson says, "Gabe, are you _serious_? Man."

Gabriel says "I'm serious. Would I make up this shit?"

Gabriel doesn't mention that, well, yes, he would.

Samson says, "And you've got it all on film? And you've got the names and the places and the witnesses?"

Gabriel says "Well, I have it in my camera, yeah."

Gabriel holds up his camera for emphasis.

Samson regards it enthusiastically.

<> Demiurge says "Gabriel, did you mention the map, the ring, and so on?"

Gabriel puts down the camera, and tosses back the rest of the whiskey.

<> Gabriel says "Not yet."

Samson says, "Gabe, you did the right thing coming to me. This is going to be feature. This is going to be headline."

Samson orders more whiskey for them both. And food.

Gabriel lights up a cigarette. "It gets _weirder_ man. Those birds got their hands on a briefcase, and it was filled with stuff. Maps, geneologies, and some weird ring. I got a few pictures so I could have copies for myself. Not good ones, but it's gotta be good enough until we get the stuff away from them."

Samson smirks. "Well, hey, we gotta be ethical for the cameras, and I'm sure it'll be good for them once it's on the news. Right?"

Gabriel draws deeply on his smoke. "I don't really give a shit, baby. News is news and money is money."

<> arcangel dubs Gabe "Edmund" and tells him to watch out for lions.

<> Demiurge chuckles.

Samson says, "Yes, you got it. Okay. So you think they still trust you? Would any of them look good on camera?"

Gabriel says "No and Yes."

Samson says, "Yeah, how?"

Gabriel says "I don't trust them any more than they trust me. But they got some lookers. The waif, the big strong muscle man... they're a real group, baby."

Samson purses his lips. "You figure we can do it as a sob story, maybe?"

Gabriel says "I don't know what kind of story it is, man. I just know that it's a story."

Samson says, "Yeah. Yeah, you got that right. This is a serious story."

Samson says, "I've got an in with a couple of the cops. I may be able to get us some more stuff."

Gabriel says "I'd like to know who the guy reading the will was, and the backgrounds on these other people. I'd like to know what the hell is UP, man."

Samson says, "Yeah, me too. This is the silly season, man. We need some good human interest stuff."

Gabriel says "But it's not..."

Gabriel trails off. He really doesn't give a shit about human interest. He wants blood, gore, and body parts.

Gabriel says "Yeah, it's that season."

Samson says, "Hey, bear with me. The blood and gore gets more interesting if you've got the poor helpless little human interest victims too."

<> Raquel is a little waif orphan. Is that human interest enough?

Gabriel says "Do they get crushed in a bone crushing car wreck?"

Samson fishes out a portable phone. "So let me make some enquiries. Naaaah, they're more photogenic as is."

Gabriel says "Pop culture icons, baby."

Samson says, "Does this make you Ginger Spice?"

Gabriel says "Only if it's chicks with dicks day."

Samson laughs. "Eat, man, drink, let me do the phone talking."

Samson starts phoning up people and telling them to investigate these people. This Jerome Guerson guy. These other guys and girls.

Gabriel orders some lunch, and smokes another cigarette.

A waitress with a low-cut blouse brings an excellent lunch.

Samson seems to have segued into a longish phone discussion.

Gabriel waits patiently, going over points in his mind. He has a vague nagging crisis of faith -- was this actually a good plan? Nah... of COURSE it was, baby.

Samson smiles a brilliant toothy smile at him, finishing.

Samson says, "Gabe, dude, it's going to be a short while before I can get a report back on your friends. You want to hang with them for the moment? Get some more shots?"

Gabriel says "I don't know where they went, baby."

Samson thinks. Then his phone buzzes.

Samson answers it. The mutter of, "She's _what_?" comes over clearly.

Samson scribbles down a phone number, then says, "No problemo."

Gabriel waits patiently, polishing off a refill on his drink.

Samson clicks the phone shut. "No problemo, Gabe my boy. I've got a number so you can contact the Costello girl. Apparently she's a millionaire heiress."

Gabriel says "Oh really?"

Gabriel perks up a bit. Gabe always perks at the sound of possible money flowing into his bank accounts.

Samson says, "Yup. So I hope you were nice to her. Play your cards right, she might finance a program for you."

Gabriel's mind works over the idea of someone bankrolling one of his more artistic photography projects. Like the angle from standing on the front of a tank rolling across a desert in the Middle East.

Gabriel says "If I wasn't, I can be in the future."

Samson smiles encouragingly. And wolfishly, but hey, he's in the television industry.

<> Gabriel says "Mmmm demons."

Samson says, "We can always play her lowkey. Victim of this whole thing. Heroic investigator. Like you."

Gabriel says "Just another victim... or rich mastermind who is staging all this for her own private amusement? Now _there_ is an interesting concept."

Samson says, "You think that's how it is?"

Gabriel says "It's a possibility. An elaborately staged will reading. A mysterious briefcase in Victoria Station. A map and a ring. Geneologies. Nothing a bored rich girl couldn't have paid for with a nice check."

Samson says, "And the shooting and the dead guys?"

Gabriel says "Theatrics. Although it didn't feel like theatrics at the time."

Samson looks Gabriel square in the eye. "Gabe, dude, seriously, do you think it was theatrics?"

Gabriel says "Dunno, man. I just dunno."

Samson says, "Want me to get that film developed for you?"

Gabriel says "Nah. I'll get it developed. Don't worry about that, baby."

Samson says, "Sure? I mean, I don't want you getting eaten by zombies, dude."

Gabriel says "I'm not gonna get eaten by zombies."

Samson grins.

Samson says, "How about you at least come into my office, let my secretary take notes on this all?"

Gabriel ponders this for a few minutes.

Gabriel says "You didn't bring your little tape recorder?"

Samson says, "Yeah, but my secretary is _so_ inspiring."

Gabriel says "Uh-huh."

Samson sighs. "Okay, okay. Call me when you get more news, okay? And I'll call you if I find out shit about your friends."

Gabriel says "Yeah baby. Sure."

<> Gabriel says "Bastard wants my story. :)"

<> Gabriel says "And my soul. That's another story."

<> Demiurge laughs. Perhaps he's just a normal human!

Samson laughs. "Hey, cool it. I need your info, Gabe. I'm not going to sell you down the river."

<> arcangel says "He's a TV guy. He's automatically not normal."

<> Shannen says "..TV.."

Gabriel says "I'm a little on edge. This shit is just a little TOO weird for even me."

Samson says, "Have some more whiskey, Gabe. Relax. You're the man with the camera."

Gabriel pets it. "I am indeed."

Samson says, "You are the reporter. You are God, man."

Gabriel just eyes Samson.

Gabriel says "Okay. That's my cue that too much drink has disappeared down the gullet and it's time for me to move on to my next conquest."

Samson laughs. He scribbles down a phone number, and tosses it across.

Samson says, "A little bird tells me this number puts you in touch with someone who'll put you in touch with Ms Costello."

Gabriel reaches out, and the phone number disappears into a pocket. "Thanks."

Samson says, "No problem, dude. Hang loose. Get me copies of that stuff. Make a programme."

Gabriel says "I will, baby."

Gabriel stands, a little wobbly, and reaches for his camera bag.

Samson grins, and waves a hand. "Good luck with the chicks."

<> arcangel tries to imagine Raquel, Carlotta, or Kate-Lynn letting Gabe get "lucky" with them.

Gabriel says "Always, baby. They love me. Chicks dig the hair."

<> Gabriel says "Mmmm PC hate..."

Samson laughs. And drinks some more whiskey.

Gabriel wanders onward, into the day.

---

The League