Doing it right...

[jwhouk]

All righty then.

This is a first draft, basically showing how much we've put together. Chapters aren't at any natural stoppage in the storyline, and I used a convention (without fonts) to determine authorship.

Yes, I renamed the novel Thicker Than Blood, but kept "Murphy's Law and Wedding Ceremonies" as the sub-title.

As work and time permit, I'll try to keep this updated.

[lake_wrangler]

Nice. It will make it easier to re-read...

By the way, how do you get more than 300 pages (almost wrote "3000"...) of text, from a mere 38 pages of postings on a thread?

[jwhouk]

Nice. It will make it easier to re-read...

By the way, how do you get more than 300 pages (almost wrote "3000"...) of text, from a mere 38 pages of postings on a thread?

Nine point font and a paperback-book page format.

[GlytchMeister]

Is it odd that I'm feeling suspense and am anxious to read the next post, even though I'm helping to write it?

[lake_wrangler]

Nice. It will make it easier to re-read...

By the way, how do you get more than 300 pages (almost wrote "3000"...) of text, from a mere 38 pages of postings on a thread?

Nine point font and a paperback-book page format.

But with only 38 pages of posts to draw from, wouldn't it be better to use 20 point font, to fill up that many pages?

[jwhouk]

A few miles away:

Ari had been through absolute hell the last three days. The Black Friday crowds, though the press continued to insist they were "smaller" this year, were absolutely HORRID. She was still limping from the number of carts that had run into her, almost on an hourly basis, as she'd been assigned to "greeter" status at Wal-Mart.

And that infernal RINGING. If she had any money, she'd donate it to the Salvation Army just to shut the ringers up.

She stepped gingerly into the storefront of the Starbucks where Drayton worked. She was dealing with her own issues - there was a line of people ahead of her, and they all looked impatient.

Dray didn't even see her as she came in; not that that was unusual. For some reason, when they weren't at the apartment, they seemed to not even know each other.

After about twenty minutes, Ari finally got to the head of the line. She saw Dray's issue right away: her left hand was bandaged.

"What happened?" Ari asked.

"I BURNED MYSELF ON THE ESPRESSO MACHI... oh, hi Ari," she softened a bit. "Sorry, I got that question from pretty much everyone I had to serve since it happened this morning. I've had a horrid day." She swallowed whatever irritation she had and asked, "What can I get for you?"

"Oh, I should be good for just a cup of Americano, tall..."

There was a sudden WHUMP! and a FLUMP! sound - and a CRASH! that came from behind the store. And then, a car horn alarm started to sound.

Both Ari and Dray looked at each other. Dray had been the one to drive the three girls to work that morning. After dropping Mori off at Target, and Ari at the Wal-Mart over on the other side of the shopping center, Dray had parked their small, used Toyota Yaris in the back of the shop. And that car horn...

Dray ran to the hallway that led to the bathrooms at the back of the store, followed by Ari. They emerged through the rear employee-only entrance to see a mound of what appeared to be freshly-dug-out dirt, mixed with burnt pine.

And, it was laying on the remains of their recently-purchased Yaris.

A cook from the Panda Kitchen next door looked at the two of them. "I was just taking the garbage out, and suddenly outta nowhere, this dirt appeared - and landed right on that car!"

"We still have payments on that thing!" Dray wailed.

---

If you're wondering what the car looked like - for the former owner - try looking here.

[Just Old Al]

Al sat the desk in his room and pulled his journal toward him, a cup of tea at his elbow. The light in the room was bright, contrasting sharply with his spirits as he sat there in the quiet.

Around him, the house was a whirl, with preparations for the wedding in high gear. Formal wear was being shaken out and pressed, shoes shined, accessories agonized over and shopped for and the thousand and one details of a wedding being finalized.

Under the brightness of the wedding was the dark undercurrent of the battle. Here too, a thousand and one details were being finalized, with war games being conducted on the planning board, strategies refined and every conceivable unknown being quantified and hopefully planned for.

Al himself had been a large part of the latter effort and peripherally involved in the former – working his troops and exuding the confidence a leader must show in front of his troops at all times. With them, he was cool, confident, unflappable and above all confident in them.

Here in his own mind he could be more honest.

Opening the journal and extending his old Cross pen, Al took a deep breath, sighed and began to write.

“Siege – Wedding minus 9:

Here in the darkness of my own thoughts I can think what I wish, and express myself as a leader must never, ever do in front of his troops.

I am terrified. Not of my own death – that is a spectre I fought down decades ago – but of the deaths of those I love.

In the few months we have been here I have gone from being a refugee among refugees, only responsible to myself, to being a member of both a larger and a smaller family. It is for all of them I fear.

Of the larger family, many of them are very tough or immortal – so they will survive. Then there are the fragile ones – the mortal paranormals and the plain old humans – their outcome is less certain. For them, I have equipped them with all of the skills and knowledge I can give them. But for a few like my general and my blood brother Greg, they have not truly seen the elephant, but have an inkling of what a hairy beast he is. If they keep their heads they will do well and gods willing will survive.

The smaller family is the one haunting my nightmares now – and one of their number specifically.

The Alexanders – Buck, Cindy, Rowdy and my love Daisy – are my special charges in the battle. Because of what we are doing we will be exposed and will definitely be under fire from the massed enemy combatants.

Few commanders in the past century have been faced with this dilemma. I will be commanding those I love – and will be responsible for their deaths should I fail in my duties.

Assigning me this duty was a mistake – I should never have been placed in this position. However, the needs of the battle as we have anticipated it place me squarely in the position I’m in – due to my familiarity with the centaurs and their special weapons, my familiarity with all of the details of the battle and my own facility with Chryso – once the Rose of England and now a hybrid of two worlds. It may have been a mistake, but it was the only way it could have been done.

My biggest fear is failing them as their commander in their time of need. I fail, they die. It is as simple as that.

However, I cannot simply keep them away from the danger. They are my family and all I love but they are also my squad and their participation will affect the outcome of the battle. I cannot fail the group simply to keep my loves safe.

To keep them safe could sacrifice all and potentially allow a menace onto the world that must never be allowed.”

At this point Al put down his pen, rested his face in his hands and leaned onto the surface of his desk. His shoulders quivered slightly, and his breath was ragged. After a few moments, he settled, picked up his pen, wiped his eyes and continued.

“So, I am on the horns of a trident – Duty, honor and love.

Among the group I am seen as a coward in love – I have a wonderful dam who would marry me any time I say the word – but I cannot ask. The risks we will share preclude my asking her – I cannot take the chance of making her a widow twice. The civilians do not understand this – they think me merely faint-hearted – but this is a sacrifice I cannot even consider asking her to make.

My hesitancy is tolerated by her but is affecting her. She daily grows a little whiter, a little less vivacious. Nothing I can do seems to be able to erase this strain, and I cannot do what would erase it for all time.

I am a coward – indeed I embrace the term when it comes to my faint-heartedness. I am so unused to the powers of love that it terrifies me even as it becomes like air – something that cannot be lived without. Enough of this, though , I cannot contemplate my life alone as it may be moving forward - no, it does not bear contemplating. Better to die in battle than to live alone after this.

So, I must do what I can to safeguard those I love both in the immediate and in the broader sense. I cannot and never could shirk my duty - my duty to all will be done, no matter what. As I have always done I must stand between the light and the dark, and banish the dark. The cost of that banishment is always terrible but hopefully that cost will not be all I love.

More on the morrow.”

With this, Al closed the cover of his journal, sliding his hand over the worn leather cover of the book. There were things to be done, and little time to do them.

[jwhouk]

For those of you who haven't read the (incomplete) as of yet, here's how I did the sections:

Sections beginning with three dashes (---) were written by the author.

Sections with initials were written by one of several contributors: AJR – Just Old Al; DIN – Dinky Inky; GLY – Glytchmeister; HAN – Hansontoons; JWH – JWHouk (editor); TAZ – Taz Maniac. (For example: ---JWH--- were sections written by me.)

Sections with three line dashes (≡≡≡) are continuations from the previous contributor.

I used some formatted fonts for things like writing (Al's journal is Monotype Corsiva, for example).

EDIT: Oh, also: I added to the "credits" of the story a link to Pablo's Patreon page.

[Sgt. Howard]

Billens and Brandy caught Greg in the library, studying the lay of the Mill- he looked up and saw the two, and immediately cringed internally. He had no idea what they wanted, but he knew it involved him and he knew he wouldn't like it-
He was right on both counts.
"Sarge," Billens opened, "can we distract you out to the short range? Only we got a trainee that will require some one-on-one in handgun, and from somebody with your credentials,"
He studied them for only a few seconds- "We're... we're talking about John, aren't we?"
"Uh... yeah..."
"Short range, you say... handgun... do you have ... ANYTHING... that will fit his hands?"
"Uh... so, far... not really... there's not a lot to work with here in that aspect... "
"I see... where's John?"
John stepped out from around the corner and raised his hand briefly to acknowledge.
"Come over here, son- let me look at your hand a moment... am I safe to touch it?"
"Uh, yea... you should be,"
Greg approached the back of John's hand with the back of his own- satisfied, he held the hand open to examine it, then held his own up to it for comparison.
His own hands were a size 7.5. The biggest gloves he had ever seen were a size 9.5
John's hands were at least a size 12.

Greg pondered this for a moment- then he pulled out his phone and dialed a number.
"Hi Chris- Howard here- do you still have that .500 Smith in the case?... uh huh... twelve and a half? Make it an even grand and we're on... naw, not even... ten fifty... no, that's no good... 'leven, not a penny more... done! You have my FFL on file, use that.... this afternoon, and four boxes of ammo as well... right... 'later..."
Billens blanched- "Greg... did you just purchase a Smith and Wesson in .500 Smith?"
"Yup- next step will be to braze the handle frame extension onto it, enlarge the trigger guard and cut new grips... John, how much control do you have over those hands?"
"How do you mean?"
"Can you get a ... precise... temperature out of them?"
"Uh... I've never tried, to be honest... what do you have in mind?"
"Just a thought- we won't try it with your gun, but brazing with your bare hands ought to be a neat trick... OK, we will go over some really boring, stupid stuff as we go get this thing regarding safety, basic handling, and sight picture... get on some travelling clothes, we're headed to the Okanogan,"
"What's in Okanogan?"
"Decent hard-working, honest people who are probably as abrupt as you are- you'll love it..."
"Greg ... " Billens wouldn't let it go, "....500 Smith?!?..."
"You would prefer .25 ACP? The Boy is build a bit oversized, in case you haven't noticed- I don't think he'll need to worry about recoil. Besides, he's in good hands- we'll start his education at my private range,"
".500 SMITH!!! ARE YOU MAD?!?"
Greg just looked at him- "Well, yea...why do you ask?"

[DinkyInky]

Ask the Old Sarge to do anything half-arsed results in you being busted down to Private...whether or not you served.

Remember Billens...you asked for it!

[Sgt. Howard]

Ask the Old Sarge to do anything half-arsed results in you being busted down to Private...whether or not you served.

Remember Billens...you asked for it!

the Dink knows the Sarge

[Dave]

".500 SMITH!!! ARE YOU MAD?!?"

A handgun which can fire cartridges described as being adequate for taking down elephant and Cape buffalo

[DinkyInky]

".500 SMITH!!! ARE YOU MAD?!?"

A handgun which can fire cartridges described as being adequate for taking down elephant and Cape buffalo

Well, yeah...considering anything less than a hand cannon is a Barbie sized gun to him.

[Sgt. Howard]

".500 SMITH!!! ARE YOU MAD?!?"

A handgun which can fire cartridges described as being adequate for taking down elephant and Cape buffalo

... you forgot how they can de-rail a switch engine by reducing a wheel to chunks of metal, or eviscerate a full-grown grizzly via hydrostatic shock ... the sonic pop of one passing within three feet of your head will cost an eardrum... minimum... a side of beef was draped with standard Kevlar, which was belted in place. At 50 feet, the bullet pulled a 12" diameter hock of the Kevlar THOUGH the side of beef having torn it from the main swath.

If one is presented with a howitzer caisson, one does not mount it with a rimfire single shot action and expect optimum performance.

Besides, if he hits any of us via 'friendly fire', we won't suffer long...

[Sgt. Howard]

"Why is Billens so spazzed out over a five hundred Smith? What IS a five hundred Smith?" John asked on the way to the portal.
"Biggest damn handgun cartridge made- very few men can actually shoot it- you will probably wonder what the issue is once to pull the trigger, as I suspect you will find the recoil quite mild,"
"Is that the main reason you think I should have it?"
"Well, it's a large frame revolver... I can dick around with the grip size and not worry about a magazine... and making the triggerguard fit your finger is pretty simple... there are a few other considerations, but yea- that was one of them,"
They entered the hallway and went to the far end- stepping through that door, John found himself inside an old fashioned outhouse. Stepping out, he saw a field of snow bracketed by orchards. With his first step, a covey of quail flushed right in front of him, startling him somewhat. He watched as the birds covered a short distance before they landed and regarded him warily.

"Welcome to the Okanogan- my place is this way," Greg said as he led on.

[GlytchMeister]

"How'd you do all that... Flipping?" Nudge found herself somewhat confused by Glytch. "I thought you were just some geek Greg knew."
"Heh... When you spend as much time running away from danger as I have, you tend to get very good at it. The Japanese gave us Karate, the Chinese gave us Kung Fu, the Israelis gave us Krav Maga... All of which are martial arts of self defense and such... And true to form, the French gave us the art of running away: Parkour." Glytch was walking alongside Nudge now.
Nudge snorted and laughed. "Cheese-eating surrender monkeys, as I recall someone calling them."
"That sounds like something Clarkson said... Though, to be honest, the French Foreign Legion is pretty badass."
They came to the end of the hallway... The door was cheap and worn... And rather familiar. Glytch opened it and found himself looking at his apartment, as seen from his front door.
Not that he had a back door, but still.
Nudge had to turn her head sideways to fit her horns through. Looking around, she wisely decided to glamour into her considerably smaller human form. "I've seen closets bigger than this!"
"Home sweet home... Welcome to my humble abode."
"Damn right it's humble... How can you stand it?!?"
"Stand what?"
"It's so friggin' SMALL!"
Glytch chuckled. "I'm a Boy Scout... I'm used to living out of a tent. Heck, I spent a few months doing that. Besides, I'm more than a little poor - I don't have much choice. It's big enough."
Nudge was already feeling claustrophobic... Even in her relatively tiny human form, Glytch's place felt cramped. At least it was clean. He had several shelves constructed from discarded pallets and the odd two-by-four, storing everything that didn't fit into the meager closets and cupboards... cleaning supplies, food, tools and utensils... There didn't see to be a rhyme or reason to the organization.
Nudge followed Glytch to his "bedroom," which was actually just a small section that Glytch had separated from the rest of the apartment with a couple sheets that were mounted to the ceiling with command hooks. Inside was a twin bed, a closet, and a box meant for shipping hanging clothes. On top of the box was a stack of neatly folded clothes.
The twin bed stood atop twelve-inch wooden blocks to accommodate three more cardboard boxes. Glytch bent down and pulled one out, set it on his bed, and began to dig through the vacuum-packed ziplock bags inside.
"How'd you do that?" Nudge asked, looking over his shoulder.
"With a straw and my lungs, and some college textbooks. Took a while, but it's worth the space it saved me."
Nudge silently shook her head, more than a little bemused, and turned to look around Glytch's tiny apartment again. There were several pieces of charcoal drawings framed and hung around on the walls not taken up by shelves, as well as a plank of wood that looked like it was hit by lightning, all bearing Glytch's chosen name... But there wasn't so much as a single picture or memento. "...where are the photos? Don't you have family, or friends?"
Glytch suddenly stopped, then slowly straightened and looked Nudge dead in the eye from under his hood. "Most of them are at the Alexander estate." Nudge saw the steel in his eyes and heard it in his voice... And decided to let the subject drop. When she looked down, Glytch returned to his box, and the two were silent for a moment. Finally, he pulled out a smaller, thinner bag and held it up triumphantly. "Gotcha! And the shoes are right over..." He went to his closet and opened the door, revealing the most efficient use of such a tiny amount of space Nudge had ever seen - hangars were doubled up, every inch of bare wall was taken up with shelving, and there was a pillar of square shelves in the middle, angled to accommodate as many shoes as possible... The bottom edge of each shelf had a little ridge to hold each shoe or boot in place. "...here!" Glytch jumped up and plucked a pair of black dress shoes off the top of the shoe pillar. "Ok, that's everything!"
Nudge admired Glytch's insane closet for another moment before snapping back into focus. "Right! Yeah, ok. Good... Uh, let's get going!"
Just as Nudge opened the door, Glytch absentmindedly scratched his chin... And noticed he had a bit of stubble. "Hang on... If I'm going to get cleaned up and looking sharp for the wedding, I'm going to do it right." He quickly went to the bathroom and picked up a few key items - a can of shave gel, his Gillette razor, and his bottle of Bvlgari Black. "The electric one is fine for every day... But I'm not going to do this halfway, ya know?"
Nudge eyed the Bvulgari. "Isn't that expensive?"
"Got it on a bet - they thought I couldn't keep them from hacking my phone without turning it completely off."
"How'd you win?"
"Tossed it in the fridge." Glytch smiled, baring a few too many teeth. "It pissed them off to no end. It was hilarious. They're still nursing the bruise in their ego over that."

[jwhouk]

Suzi flopped back on the couch after putting her HaemoBar carryout box in the fridge. The week had been a long one, even after they'd agreed to rotating between "babysitting" times with Joe.

Fortunately, the end was in sight. Shelly was going to get married next weekend; a plan was in place to provide for the attack by Bodelius on Jin and May; and she could go back to Minneapolis with Lily and troll the lowlifes of crime.

And, maybe, get a chance to see Castela and Atsali for a bit. She'd gotten wind from Lily that Atsali was having "girl issues" with that ursamorph she'd been seeing. Not that Suzi was an expert on the subject, of course, but she might be able to give her some pointers…

Her phone rang – "Let's Do The Time Warp Aga-aaain" came warbling out of the speakers.

"Yeah, what's up Lily?"

She paused.

"Really? How'd they…" Her face screwed up.

"That's odd. How in the world can someone in solitary get their throat crushed?"

Another pause.

"Huh. But they didn't see…"

She looked partially into her phone at what Lily was telling her.

"So they're going to list it as a suicide – despite the cameras – and…?"

Another pause.

"Right. Well. I'll see if Joe's home."

Another pause.

"Oh, yeah, he said he was going to do that today." She turned and looked back toward the Laundry Room doors. "I guess I'll have to go through the Portal –" She sighed for a moment – "and see if I can track him down."

≡≡≡

I thanked Tina for the coffee, and took my order out and over to the alley.

There, standing at the portal door, was Suzi.

"Agent McBride," I said. "Something up?"

"Tempelhoffer's dead. They said it was a 'suicide', but it appears he was choked to death."

I stared at her for a moment. This was a game changer, in a way.

"We better go tell Neil. First – I need to get this tea back to Sarah."

[jwhouk]

"So yeah, that was how he consolidated alla da drug cartels in both states," Cavin finished. "It wuz a bit bloody, but he had a coupla people helping."

"Including Malcroft?" Neil raised his eyebrows, attempting to comprehend. Cavin nodded back.

"Malcroft was the key to the whole thing. When he went down, Tempelhoffer took the whole thing ovah."

"Except now Tempelhoffer is dead," I said, entering Neil's "war room".

"What?"

"Lily's out there checking things out with Billens," Suzi explained. "There was an issue with the cameras this morning on his wing. By policy, they automatically have the prisoners come out into a 'viewable area' where they can be observed through a window by a CO. They found him holding on to his throat, collapsed on the floor."

"How long was it, between the cameras going down and him collapsing?" Neil asked after a moment.

Suzi shrugged. "It happened at shift change this morning."

"Yeah, the one time in the morning when staff aren't 100% concentrating on their charges," I said.

"Or someone impersonating an officer, perhaps?" Neil queried.

Suzie's phone rang again. Cavin rolled his eyes at the RHPS reference; she just shot him a dirty look.

"Yeah, what's up?" She listened for a minute. "Interesting, we were just discussing that." She looked at Neil, then went back to her phone. "Yeah, I'm at the Castle… Yeah, see ya." She clicked off her phone. "Seems one of the guards was also found dead in his car out in the parking lot. It was the same CO who was assigned to check on Tempelhoffer."

"Well, then, maybe it was a CO with a vendetta or something?" I suggested. "Or on someone's order?"

"The guard was found naked and eviscerated in the back seat of his car," Lily explained as she entered the room. "The guards at the front gatehouse say they saw the officer come in, but he didn't say much to anyone on his way to the cell block."

"An impersonator, then," Neil said.

"And I'd bet the perpetrator poited himself out of the scene after killing him," I added.

"No way of knowing, of course – they lost all video shortly after the dead guard was last seen entering," Lily replied, somewhat aggravated.

"Great. Add that to the news we got about his kid down at RYOC, and this smells a lot like 'completely obliterating the competition' to me."

"Hey – is Mikael still alive?" Cavin asked.

"Last we heard he was on life support at St. Mary's in Racine," I replied. "Why?"

"Can we get down there? I… uh, might be able to talk to him."

"But if he's in a coma…" Suzi was a bit perplexed.

"How you gonna do that?" Lily asked.

"I have… ways."

[DinkyInky]

Her phone rang – "Let's Do The Time Warp Aga-aaain" came warbling out of the speakers.

Bwahahahahahaaaaaa! Why am I not surprised? It was either that, or I could see two tunes from Queen being set for it...bet you guess them in two seconds.

[jwhouk]

Her phone rang – "Let's Do The Time Warp Aga-aaain" came warbling out of the speakers.

Bwahahahahahaaaaaa! Why am I not surprised? It was either that, or I could see two tunes from Queen being set for it...bet you guess them in two seconds.

"Killer Queen" is Lily's ringtone for Suzie, yes.