cj2017: Sarah - GTaT (S/D city hall)
[personal profile] cj2017

Title: The Butterfly Effect (2/9)

Rating: Hard R: violence, sex, harsh language, you probably know the drill by now.

 

 

~ ~ ~

The Butterfly Effect 2/9

~ ~ ~

Kristina Slater’s office was far too hot. She peeled off the jacket she habitually wore and for the fifth time that day cursed the fact that there were no windows to open. She knew she could quite easily work half-naked without the machines so much as raising an eyebrow, but she had an image to uphold and that image did not involve her sitting around in her underwear, no matter how great the temptation.

               She checked the listing for the next twenty-four hours and adjusted a coordinate that was slightly awry. It had been quiet for the past couple of months and today was no exception. The destruction of Deacon’s research had left the engineers without metal and the techs without designs. For the moment, they were all in a holding pattern. Dyson was focusing his efforts on the artificial intelligence and the search for the Connors, while the other two surviving employees from Deacon attempted to inventory exactly what had been lost.

Kaliba’s main problem was a complete lack of two-way communication. The designs considered to be the most crucial had been sent through several years ago, and, with no way of being told otherwise, Skynet was obviously working under the assumption that matters were well in hand. A way to jump forwards, to open up traffic completely had always been desired, but Kaliba had become largely complacent regarding its necessity. She knew that their best and brightest scientists had now been ordered to focus all of their energy into that very project. As a Bubble Tech, her expertise was in great demand and she was spending more of her hours working on their project than she was on her own.

               Kristina smiled thinly. She hadn’t thought of herself as a Bubble Tech for a long time. Back then, she had been one of a small select team, and proud to wear the uniform. Her mother had wept tears of relief, convinced that the youngest and smartest of her daughters would now be a protected and precious asset. For four years, Kristina had worked as part of John Connor’s Resistance while her friends had died around her and her family starved, and the machines had gotten smarter and stronger. It had taken her four years to realize she was fighting for the wrong side. Her skills had made her valuable to the machines, but her eagerness to betray everyone she had ever loved and every confidence she had ever held had made her unique. 

               She reread the alert she had received from the AI and rolled her eyes. She had expected more from Dyson, but she was willing to give him a short leash to play with, hoping he wouldn’t go ahead and hang himself. He wouldn’t find anything, there was nothing left to find, but if he continued to look it called his loyalty into question.

               Keep me informed.

               Her long, manicured fingernails clacked and skittered across the keyboard as she sent the directive. She knew they were impractical; they got in the way and they made an irritating amount of noise, but - she smiled and held her hand up to the light - they were very beautiful. Kristina had grown up in bombed-out tunnels, eating rats and sleeping in filth. If there was one thing she really did appreciate, it was beauty.

~ ~ ~

               Sarah pushed her chair further away from the desk and sat bolt upright in an attempt to ease the ache at the base of her back. Her head hurt, her eyes were blurring, she was hungry and thirsty, but above all she was incredibly bored. Patience had never been one of her virtues. John had certainly not inherited his ability to research and strategize from her. She had always been practical, headstrong and impulsive, characteristics that had gotten her into a lot of trouble before she had learned to temper them slightly. Having spent the past week cooped up in a library with only Cameron for company, she was seriously contemplating the purchase of another punching bag just to give her something to hit.

               “Would you like to take a break?” Cameron’s voice was perfectly pitched to avoid the disapproval of the young librarian seated at his desk.

               “No, I’m fine.” Unable to keep the frustration from her voice, Sarah raised her hand apologetically when the librarian glared at her. “I’m fine,” she whispered. “I just…”

               “You would rather be outside.”

               “Yeah. Been a long time since I studied.” All of her aspirations in that regard had been destroyed the instant the machine had arrived, hell-bent on murdering her. “I don’t…” She sighed. “I get a little claustrophobic.” She didn’t elaborate, and as she watched Cameron slowly figure it out she knew that she didn’t need to. The mountains and then the beach had provided her with an incredible sense of space and freedom. After only a couple of hours in the cramped reading room, with its looming, crowded shelves, it became hard for her to breathe.

               “One more hour?” Cameron sounded quite plaintive. She had obviously found something that interested her, however irrelevant. The machine’s thirst for knowledge, any and all knowledge, was boundless.

               Sarah turned another page of the directory she was skim-reading and nodded. “One more hour. I promised John we’d pick up burgers on the way home.” She tucked her chair closer to the desk, propped her head up with her arm and tried her best to ignore the ticking of the clock on the wall.

~ ~ ~

               From the camera disguised as a tiny flaw in the office paintwork, the machine watched Dyson as he read the results of his illicit search. The machine was pleased with its work. Dyson had received a negative response to his request for the T-888’s upload, together with a convincing summary of the T-888’s mission timeline. The sequence of events placed it nowhere near the Dyson home at any point, and recorded its destruction and the loss of all its data, which subsequently negated the possibility of any such upload having been received. The FBI file had also been easy to manipulate. The agents had already done the majority of the work to circumstantially establish Sarah Connor as Tarissa Dyson’s murderer. All the machine had been left to do was to alter the official time of Tarissa’s death and falsify the ballistics evidence.

               The machine studied Dyson’s body language as he read. It recorded his breathing pattern, the flush on his cheeks, and the fine sheen of sweat that beaded on his forehead. It noted the way his pupils dilated and his fists clenched. It analyzed the physiological signs and identified them as anger. The only thing the machine needed to know was exactly where Dyson’s anger was directed, and he unwittingly provided the answer to that question when he spent the remainder of the day feverishly chasing down leads on the Connors.

Emboldened by the ease of its own success, the machine quietly reinforced his fury by producing links to old press reports detailing the murders of his parents, and the various acts of terrorism that had been attributed to Sarah Connor. By the time Dyson finally logged off, late in the evening and swaying with exhaustion, the machine had no doubts whatsoever about his commitment to the mission.

~ ~ ~

               “It’s not a company name.”

               “What?” Sarah looked up blearily. Seven more minutes. She only had to keep her focus for seven more minutes and then they could leave.

Cameron was staring at the screen she had been accessing archived newspapers on, her eyes flitting from side to side as she read at a rapid pace. Her initial statement was just about hitting home for Sarah.

“Did you find something?” Her exhaustion pushed aside, Sarah moved to stand behind Cameron.

“I found a reference to the words ‘Optima spes’. We assumed it was the name of a company, like Kaliba, but I think it might be a location.”

The article was from the LA Times. Dated from 1953, the piece detailed ambitious plans for a new town in the desert where art, artists and free-thinkers could thrive away from the persecution of McCarthyism and the corruption of the city. The brainchild of a popular local artist, Tom Winters, the town had been given the name Optima Spes, and building had been scheduled to commence only weeks after the article’s publication.

“So what happened?” Having already pored over local maps and area guides, Sarah knew there was no such place. Cameron was busy chasing down the follow-up articles and the screen was flickering wildly as she searched.

“Winters was murdered. He had his throat slit in what appeared to be a street robbery and the plans died with him. No-one ever saw them through to completion.”

“But the land is still there,” Sarah said. She traced her finger over the map that accompanied the article. “Dammit, would it have killed them to be a little less fucking vague?” The map was small and sparsely detailed, providing no precise clue as to the exact location of the area.

“It would seem intended to fill out the page rather than provide any useful directions. But then there is this.” Cameron pointed to a small landmark with the designation Silver Needle. “It may give us something else to search for.”

Sarah was already nodding. “I’ll let John know we’re going to be late.” She gestured warily at the machine Cameron was working on. “Can you show me how to use those things?”

“Yes. They’re really quite straightforward.” Cameron considered Sarah for a long moment and then attempted a reassuring smile that failed spectacularly. “Perhaps it would be easier if I wrote you some instructions.”

~ ~ ~

               Why don’t I have a name?

               Dyson watched the cursor blinking steadily in anticipation of his reply. He sipped his coffee, trying to finish it while it was still hot. Their project did have a name, an asinine, meaningless piece of jargon designed to appeal to the military and wealthy investors. But behind closed doors, those few who were aware of exactly what the end-game was always called the project Skynet.

               Does your brother have a name?

               Whoever was operating the other AI seemed to be attempting to humanize it in ways Dyson had never considered. His priority had been creating the worm that had allowed for the infiltration of a massive percentage of the world’s computer systems; working on the AI’s human characteristics could wait until humanity was well on its way towards extinction. The majority of his time with Kaliba had been spent replicating the worm’s code base, a code his father had originally developed during his time at Cyberdyne. Danny had adored his father. Even though Miles had devoted so much time to his project at the expense of his family, Danny had always worshipped the ground that he walked on. Danny understood that all-consuming devotion now, which made it even harder for him to understand his father’s capitulation the instant that Sarah Connor had unveiled the truth about Skynet and the future. He hoped that, had his father been given the time to think things through, he would have understood the inevitability of what had been set into motion and reached the same conclusions that his son had.

               Danny had only been six years old when Sarah Connor had strode into his living room and put a bullet into his father. Hours later, there had been three sharp knocks on the front door. His mother had stopped scrubbing away the bloodstains and wandered over in a daze to answer it. When the FBI agents had told her of her husband’s murder, she had fallen to her knees and wept silently. Later, more agents had searched the house but they hadn’t gotten there quickly enough and they hadn’t known where everything was hidden. They never found the journal that Danny had taken. Even as a child, he had spent hours poring over the pages of his father’s meticulous handwriting, some full of family anecdotes, others containing numbers and letters and calculations that had made no sense to Danny for many years. At college, Danny had started to ask careful, guarded questions as he attempted to recreate and develop the work that had consumed his father. It had only taken five months for Kaliba to make their first contact.

               The machine’s answer was still displayed on the screen, and Dyson tried but failed to see the significance of the name John Henry. Days ago, the machine had revealed how straightforward it had been to hack into its brother’s systems and assume control of his actions. Since then, Dyson had been actively encouraging the strengthening relationship. The two brothers shared more than advanced intelligence, they shared the same code base. Dyson didn’t know how the second machine had been developed from his father’s code, but it obviously possessed a rapidly advancing mind and that made it a potential threat. For the moment, the team was content to allow the bond to develop in an effort to learn more about the second machine’s intentions, its creators and its whereabouts. With more information, they could then make a decision as to whether the rival machine should be destroyed or used to their advantage. Dyson’s only concern was the formation of a bond so strong that their machine ultimately inhibited any efforts to eliminate its brother.

Dyson watched the text fill the screen line by line. The machine was recounting a Bible story that John Henry had told it. Dyson recognized the story and began to wonder exactly what the machine’s point was. He didn’t have long to wait for his answer.

               I think I would like the name Cain.

               And in an instant, Dyson knew that his fears were unfounded.

Cain murdered his brother.

               Yes.

               Ignoring the fact that his coffee was now stone-cold, he drained the cup and smiled.

~ ~ ~

               The kitchen was dark when Sarah pushed the door open. She could smell the remnants of the pizza that John and Derek had obviously bought in lieu of burgers and her stomach roiled queasily. The library had closed at ten and it had taken over an hour to get home. Lunch had been a sandwich so stale that half of it had ended up in the trash and she couldn’t remember having eaten since. It was little wonder that her head was throbbing so badly.

The light flicked on suddenly and she winced, shielding her eyes with her hand. She heard Derek apologize and the light was gone just as abruptly. That split-second had enabled her to gain her bearings. She pulled a chair out from beneath the table and dropped into it.

“Tylenol or Advil?” He sounded as weary as she felt.

“Neither. Just sleep. John okay?”

“He’s fine. He’s on the computer, trying to track down your landmark. Last I heard he’d found something on a forum but was having a few problems.”

“Nothing in the council records?”

“No. We had time to check after you called. If that name does relate to some abandoned building project then we’re not gonna find anything in current records.”

“I know. I guess Kaliba decided to be as obscure as possible this time.”

“Yeah, using the name of someone’s 1950s flight of fancy would definitely class as pretty fucking obscure.”

She could hear him by the window, filling the kettle and setting down mugs.

“You eaten?”

“Yeah.”

“You lying?”

She laughed quietly. “Maybe.”

“There’s pizza left over. Pepperoni and mushroom.”

Her stomach promptly did another flip-flop. “Uh, no thanks. I’ll pass.”

He reheated the leftovers regardless, set a plate down within her reach, and helped himself to a slice. After half a cup of coffee, the pizza began to smell appetizing and she took hold of a piece, ignoring the smug grin she could just about see in the half-light. Ten minutes later the plate was empty and her headache was fading.

“Better?”

She stood up with him and began to clear their plates away. “Yeah, thanks.”

“Gotta take better care of yourself, Connor.”

He was right. She had cut down on the multivitamins and supplements months ago, but this past week had been a mess of skipped meals, junk food and broken sleep, and the headache had lingered for several days now.

“I know. I think we’re pretty much done with the library anyway. Cameron checked out the few books she thought might be useful.”

The door to the hallway pushed open slightly, letting a soft light fall into the room as John stepped through.

“Hey mom.” He eyed the empty pizza box with disappointment.

“Hey yourself.” She reached up to a shelf, handed him a packet of Oreos and smiled when his face brightened. “Any luck?”

“Maybe,” he said cagily. “I thought I’d hit pay-dirt, but it’s weird. Probably easier if I show you.” Shoving an entire cookie into his mouth, he ignored his mother’s appalled reaction and led the way back to his room.

~ ~ ~

               “Truthseekers dot net.” Derek’s voice dripped with disdain. “Haven’t we done the UFO thing already?”

               “That UFO thing gave us Kaliba,” Sarah reminded him, and he made a reluctant noise of concession.

               “Not really UFOs.” Turning the lap-top slightly, John scrolled down the page to the group’s mission statement. “More unexplained phenomena and conspiracy theories.” He pointed at one very active thread on the forum. “You’re a hot topic, mom.” The thread headed Sarah Connor ran to thirty-three pages. “They’re pretty sure you’re not dead.”

               “Guess they’ve gotten something right then,” Derek muttered, still not entirely clear as to what John’s point was.

               Ignoring his uncle’s skepticism, John leaned back in his chair and looked up at Sarah. “I couldn’t find any specific location for your landmark in the Californian deserts. It might have been renamed, or it’s just not significant enough for anyone to have written about. But every time I put related searches through Google, this forum kept on appearing.” He pointed to the top right of the screen. “You can search the forum for keywords, and,” he typed Silver Needle into the search engine, “voila.”

               Two threads appeared, one marked with a skull and cross-bones symbol, the other updated that night by a moderator. He opened up the thread that was still live and pointed to the most recent post.

               “The mod replied to the post I made.”

               Thewizard had made a general and very unassuming enquiry about the area containing that landmark: whether anyone knew where it was, and what sort of phenomena might have occurred there.

               “This thread has been closed,” Sarah read out loud. “Please feel free to discuss other points of interest in the active threads. Further enquiries regarding this subject will result in your account being suspended.” She raised an eyebrow. “What the hell’s gotten him so spooked?”

               “I don’t know.” John clicked back to the main forum listing. “I can’t hack the locked thread and there aren’t any posts in this one. I guess it was a duplicate that was never used and they forgot to delete it. I found a couple of relevant mentions in more general topics but they’ve been closed down pretty quickly and no-one’s spoken about it for the last three years at least. It might be nothing, but it’s the only lead I’ve found that’s not about cross-stitch or butterflies.”

               “No-one can track you from this, can they?” Sarah rested her hand on John’s shoulder and he briefly laid his over it.

               “No. It’s all safe, mom. If Kaliba are even aware of the landmark then the only thing they might be able to see is that we’re shifting our focus to it. But then they already know we’ll be chasing them down.”

               “Okay.” She squeezed his shoulder. “You going to bed sometime soon?”   

               He shrugged. “Are you?”

               She surprised the hell out of him by nodding. “Don’t stay up all night, John.”

               By the time she left the room, he had turned his attention back to the screen, headphones in place, his fingers tapping out the drumbeat of a song she couldn’t hear. She knew that if he did sleep it would only be because he’d dozed off where he sat. They might have been dissimilar in many ways but in that regard her son definitely did take after her.

~ ~ ~

               “Son of a bitch.”

Dyson stared incredulously at the search results. When his PDA alarm had sounded in the early hours of the morning, he had cursed at the thought of being dragged back into the office, but Cain had been absolutely right to issue the alert.

As much as he despised the Connors, Dyson had to admit to a grudging admiration for their tenacity. He had been aware that they were tracking links to Optima, but he had no idea how they had subsequently managed to make the connection to the Silver Needle landmark. He knew there was a real danger that someone on the forum would know what had happened out there and, in a worst-case scenario, actually know where the landmark was. He quickly requested a list of past and present forum members and postponed the daily systems check.

I will ask John Henry for his assistance.

Dyson didn’t waste time typing a response. He didn’t care how Cain obtained the information. He wanted every possible detail of every person who had ever posted on Truthseekers.net and he wanted it before the Connors made their move. If they were determined to continue playing this cat and mouse game then there was no way in hell Kaliba was going to be the mouse.

~ ~ ~

TBC…

~ ~ ~



 


(no subject)

Date: 2010-06-13 11:35 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] fig-aruna.livejournal.com
Her long, manicured fingernails clacked and skittered across the keyboard as she sent the directive. She knew they were impractical; they got in the way and they made an irritating amount of noise, but - she smiled and held her hand up to the light - they were very beautiful. Kristina had grown up in bombed-out tunnels, eating rats and sleeping in filth. If there was one thing she really did appreciate, it was beauty.

You know what you'll probably also like, Kristina?! How about SARAH CONNOR'S FIST IN YOUR THROAT.

Seriously, I do not understand these sociopathic traitors to humanity... You do realize that you were surviving off rats and cavewater BECAUSE of Skynet, right?? RIGHT?!??

I need more insight into this woman and others from the future like her... I bought (and HATED) Charles Fischer and his I-wouldn't-be-alive-if-not-for-the-Machines reasoning, but this former bubble tech.... A special, SPECIAL HELL FOR HER.



“No, I’m fine.” Unable to keep the frustration from her voice, Sarah raised her hand apologetically when the librarian glared at her. “I’m fine,” she whispered. “I just…”

“You would rather be outside.”

“Yeah. Been a long time since I studied.”


The Sarah/Cameron scenes in the library were both lol-inducing and gut-punchy. More the latter than the former. Just....Damn.



I think I would like the name Cain.

I...I think...I think I might've just peed myself. ;___; WTF, scary computer person entity thingy. Can you please stop with the drinking of the Creepolaid?! •____•

...The Danny backstory. Sigh. I feel for him, I feel for his family, but holy crap is totally effed up. Having a killer computer as your playmate surely doesn't help either. So f*ckin' tragic....


Truthseekers.net, huh...? Curiouser and curiouser!


But most intriguing is John Henry (and Weaver??) being in the mix now. My brain is all amush in anticipation...!

(no subject)

Date: 2010-06-14 11:26 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] 4tcleric-lynx.livejournal.com
I absolutely love how this story going, that again, I`m not surprise at all for I could say that about all you`s stories :)

What`s always amazed me in TTSCC`s universe were the "grays". I mean what person should be the one to work at machines trying to destroy the hole humanity? But to work at them and to be actually pleased with it... it`s kinda a hole new level of being thick bastard. Go Sarah, an kick Danny`s and Kristina`s asses! And blow up Caliba :LOL:

(no subject)

Date: 2010-06-14 12:16 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] cj2017.livejournal.com
I absolutely love how this story going, that again, I`m not surprise at all for I could say that about all you`s stories :)

That's always very nice to hear :-)

But to work at them and to be actually pleased with it... it`s kinda a hole new level of being thick bastard.

I think there would always be the section of humanity who would see collaboration as a way to survive or thrive or improve their own situation. And they would be able to do that even if it meant selling out their nearest and dearest. One of the things I love about the whole TSCC story is how Sarah is constantly beaten down and hindered and hurt by the people she is working to try and save. It's just such a massively cruel irony.

Go Sarah, an kick Danny`s and Kristina`s asses! And blow up Caliba :LOL:

Heh, we'll see... ;-)

(no subject)

Date: 2010-06-14 12:11 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] cj2017.livejournal.com
Seriously, I do not understand these sociopathic traitors to humanity... You do realize that you were surviving off rats and cavewater BECAUSE of Skynet, right?? RIGHT?!??

But then, I guess the opportunity to escape from that existence is something of a massive temptation for those with nothing left to lose...

A special, SPECIAL HELL FOR HER.

Heh. I really enjoyed writing her but she is quite naughty.

The Sarah/Cameron scenes in the library were both lol-inducing and gut-punchy. More the latter than the former. Just....Damn.

I didn't think Sarah would open herself too much to Cameron, which is why she leaves the whole claustrophobia explanation hanging. People are free to extrapolate what they want from it, but, personally, I was going with Pescadero.

I...I think...I think I might've just peed myself. ;___; WTF, scary computer person entity thingy. Can you please stop with the drinking of the Creepolaid?! •____•

LOL. Cain is a kinda obvious name, but I do like its reasoning.

But most intriguing is John Henry (and Weaver??) being in the mix now. My brain is all amush in anticipation...!

Although I've always focused on the Kaliba side of things (which is where I think the show's story is more fun!) it seemed about the right time to bring JH into the mix. I just thought it would interesting to try and explore Cain's motives for tracking its brother down. No Weaver in this one, but never say never.

Kristina Vichy Slater is ...

Date: 2010-06-15 02:27 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] tackdriver56.livejournal.com
apparently in 2010, having jumped back at Skynet's behest.
It wasn't immediately clear to me, but she seems to be part of a team that is trying to construct TDE for Kaliba to use in 2010, as well as monitoring the 'native' 2010 greys. Is this correct? Press 1 for yes (ooh I'm getting punchy). Jumping ship from the resistance to the greys, though, she deserves to break a nail. Badly.

Sarah: "All of her aspirations in that regard (studying) had been destroyed the instant the machine had arrived, hell-bent on murdering her." Yes, that would seriously reprioritize one's educational aspirations, and make it hazardous to be on the grid at all.

+1 on the badly behaved hypoglycemic. I know this woman.

It's interesting that the Kaliba AI seems to be taking a lot of sophisticated actions with respect to deceiving Danny Dyson, yet it's reporting (loyal?) to Slater. It's also enough of a sociopath, to DESIRE the name of Cain, and idiot savant Dyson lets that go right over his head.
Tunnel vision.

Nicely done.











Re: Kristina Vichy Slater is ...

Date: 2010-06-15 12:53 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] cj2017.livejournal.com
It wasn't immediately clear to me, but she seems to be part of a team that is trying to construct TDE for Kaliba to use in 2010, as well as monitoring the 'native' 2010 greys.

She's certainly moving in that direction. Her job at the moment is slightly different, but all will become clearer.

+1 on the badly behaved hypoglycemic. I know this woman.

LOL. I am this woman! You don't want to see me when I've not been fed. Seriously. I don't think hunger and boredom sit well with Sarah, at all.

It's also enough of a sociopath, to DESIRE the name of Cain, and idiot savant Dyson lets that go right over his head.

Oh I think you're doing Dyson a disservice there: Dyson’s only concern was the formation of a bond so strong that their machine ultimately inhibited any efforts to eliminate its brother.

When the Kaliba AI chooses the name Cain, and confirms that it is well aware of the significance of the name, Dyson knows he doesn't need to be worried about the above. For the moment at least, he and his machine are singing off the same hymn sheet.

Re: Kristina Vichy Slater is ...

Date: 2010-06-15 01:34 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] tackdriver56.livejournal.com
Oops. I guess I wasn't absorbing everything... I saw AI's Cain choice, and Dyson's thought that the rival might need to be destroyed. I guess Dyson wants the humans to make the decision, rather than allowing Cain to chose on its own initiative. Good luck with that, Dan-oh.

OK... Cain is not simply "of the evil one", the murderer, he is the brother who survived. Ambiguity. Nice.

A point I forgot to mention last night, is that Miles Dyson's engineering notebook / journal would have contained a lot of diagrams: control flow charts, state transition diagrams, signal / data flow diagrams. Also, as I understand it, the T-800 infiltrator AI, reverse engineered by Miles Dyson, would have been a very different code base from what would be required to invade and control the defense networks, unless that worm came along in the T-800 as a payload.

+1 on the hunger and boredom. One more cup of coffee, and then off to the chores.

(no subject)

Date: 2010-06-15 04:35 pm (UTC)
ext_39897: Andrew Buchan as John Mercer, holding a gun (Ronon - Shotgun)
From: [identity profile] lamaudite.livejournal.com
I've got a bad feeling about this...

(no subject)

Date: 2010-06-16 12:41 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] cj2017.livejournal.com
I've got a bad feeling about this...

Why ever do you get the feeling things might turn out badly? Is it something to do with my track record? *innocent face* ;-P

(no subject)

Date: 2010-06-21 07:56 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] gothamite66.livejournal.com
Woo!

hehe. thewizard.

Heck, I almost want to rent a car and head out to the desert and look for the Silver Needle now. Things happen in the desert. ;P

*sorry for being late as usual to the party*

(no subject)

Date: 2010-06-22 07:09 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] cj2017.livejournal.com
Hey girlie :-)

hehe. thewizard.

Hee, the things I do to amuse myself ;-) It just seemed appropriate somehow.

Heck, I almost want to rent a car and head out to the desert and look for the Silver Needle now. Things happen in the desert. ;P

That they do. Hang on, I have some coordinates around here somewhere... *g*

*sorry for being late as usual to the party*

Hell, the story's not going anywhere! Glad you're sticking around.

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