Suggested changes: {before : after}
On 05/27/2004 01:36 AM, Steve T. said:
"{Agustus : Augustus}?" Dr. Sears repeated. "You told me your name
was Kevin. Kevin Smith! You lied to me!"
Black nodded. "Jackie, would you ask {Personell : Personnel} to find
some rooms for our guests? Annabelle...Max, would you come to my
office?"
"Well?" Annabelle demanded as she sat down in Black's office. Max
joined her as Norman leaned against the wall. There had been some
{arguements : arguments} against allowing Norman into the office, but
Norman had refused. He had his duty and none of Section Thirteen
Security really wanted to argue with a man who looked as though he
could lift the entire installation out of the ground.
"Shadow Journey," Anabelle corrected, speaking to Max. "Translated
from {latin : Latin}, Umbra Via means Shadow Journey. Travelers makes
a little more sense when you refer to people, but via is {latin :
Latin} for journey."
Black stared at her for a moment and then continued. "We're recruited
as young children, usually from orphanages. From there, we're
trained to be able to assume any persona at a moment's notice.
Doctors, lawyers, police, whatever the situation requires. We do it
all. Spying, courier duty...assassination. There's only about five
hundred of us in the whole world. We're ghosts, the most secret of
secret agents, working for our respective {goverments : governments},
assuming and discarding {identidies : identities} the way people
change their clothes." Black smiled wryly. "There are days when I
can't even remember the name I was born with. We're surgically
altered so that we leave no traces of ourselves behind, regardless of
what we do." He showed them his palms and Max blinked as he realized
that Black's palms were smooth, with no sign of lines. Even his
fingerprints were missing. "Total {anyonymity : anonymity}. All
distinctive features removed or hidden." He turned his hands over and
stared at the palms.
"Medicinal {Marijauna : Marijuana}," Anabelle corrected.
"It went deeper then that. Without going into detail, he was a
central node for a worldwide cartel that was...unselective about it's
wares. 'Kevin Smith' was supposed to gather evidence about the good
reverend's involvement and break up the hold he held on the state's
illegals pipeline. I didn't expect to...become involved. When it was
over, my superiors decided to fake my death rather then risk
'contamination'. I was bustled off to Laos and so I had no idea that
Max was...in the works. A few years ago, the FBI decided it needed a
{permanant : permanent} secret strike force to {gaurd : guard}
America's internal interests in the Pacific. Since I left you, I had
been coming to grips with the fact that I was no longer enjoying my
work and I was getting on in years. I wanted a 'desk job' as it were.
So they gave me command of Section Thirteen."
Black considered that and then picked the wallet off the desk. "I
became Augustus Black when I joined Section Thirteen. He's a good
man, sometimes a little obsessed with the fact that he's a spymaster,
but I like him." He put the wallet away. "The FBI is charged with the
internal defense of America. Section Thirteen's job was to
{indentify : identify} and {nuetralize : neutralize} domestic threats
of an exotic nature. Bio-weapons, super lasers. Anything and
everything at the cutting edge of science and beyond. However, we've
{aquired : acquired} proof now that many of our nightmares are real.
Things like demons, sorcery, vampires. For the past six months,
Section Thirteen's new role has been to identify, {sieze : seize}
and/or destroy any all potential and otherwise supernatural threats
to the United States. Basically, if it's magic, we lock it up or
destroy it. The statue is Shendu. A demon who ruled China nearly a
{millenium : millennium} ago until a band of sorcerers bound him into
the statue, where he remained until a man named Valmont freed him. It
almost cost Jackie his life to stop Shendu's rampage and reimprison
him." He cocked his head. "Neither one of you seem very surprised."
"I wouldn't," Norman said softly. The big man had moved {slighty :
slightly} away from the wall and stood between them and the doorway.
Black's hand moved towards a set of buttons on the desk and Norman
twitched.
A knife suddenly became buried to the hilt in the desk, right between
Black's hand and the button. Considering that the desk was made of
battle grade steel, the kind used to make tanks, and that Norman had
thrown the knife, Black froze. "I can have armed {gaurds : guards}
in here within ten seconds," Black said.
He'd had another name, once. A weak name to go with the foolish
Atalantean who had traveled to Lemuria to {aquire : acquire}
knowledge of all things. But that was then. Knowledge was useful, but
he had soon discovered that it was power that he wanted. Power that
he craved. So he'd crafted a new name, one that fit him much better.
Is Atalantean intentional? I'd normally expect Atlantean.
The intention of {prision : prison} was the denial of freedom, a
harsh punishment to discourage repeated forays into {illeagal :
illegal} doings. Thus, there was little else to do besides think. The
body was restricted, but the mind was free.
He knew where he had gone wrong. He had gotten greedy, forgotten how
he had forged Dark Hand in the first place; with {paitence :
patience} and finesse. He'd relied far too much on the supernatural
and not enough on {bisinuess : business}.
In his pocket was one hundred and two dollars and forty-two cents
earned in the {prision's : prison's} work system. His body was toned
and hardened by both weights and proving himself in the near anarchy
of what could be {genorously : generously} be called the social
structure he had just left. His mind was just as quick and he had
learned things from his fellows. Things he had not learned by simply
using his family's money as he had done to originally build Dark
Hand.
Hardly the tools he needed, but they sufficed for the moment, and
would get him the tools that he did need in due time. {Paitence :
Patience} was his motto now. Planning was his friend. He needed to
leave California for certain, perhaps even America entirely. Maybe
England.
Augustus Black sighed and adjusted his {cumberbund : cummerbund}. He
was going to need more time in the gym it seemed. Then he shook his
head, no, it wasn't that, he was just getting old.
Sighing again, he eyed the banners strung around the ballroom and
then the display at the front of the room. Under a glass case was
several artifacts that had been gathered by Section Thirteen over the
years. Supposedly, they were on loan to the Academy by a "private
collector" who wished to remain {anomounys : anonymous}. In reality,
each one had been "deactivated" with chi spells and were more or less
harmless.
Black's eyes narrowed in outright hatred. "Valmont," he said in icy
tones. "I trust you're well." Valmont had turned into a very slippery
weasel. He'd vanished from sight after leaving prison and then
returned five years later, having apparently done very well for
himself in Europe. According to Cammy Howard, who held a position
similar to Black in Europe, Valmont had done a great deal of work for
the {Europeon : European} Crime Syndicates and they had paid him
very, very well.
"Never better, sir," Valmont said. "It's good to see Jackie Chan
honored for his work. Youngest person to ever {recieve : receive} the
lifetime achievement award and multiple {archeological :
archaeological} artifacts all in one night. Americans always were
{efficent : efficient} in that respect...or eager to save money."
Valmont sipped his champagne. "And what brings you here, Captain
Black? You're far too alert to be here simply to honor your good
friend."
"Dark Hand? Ah yes, the crime syndicate. They dealt in mostly asian
artifacts as I recall. Smuggled them into the country, Canada, and
Mexico, didn't they? I thought they had been shut down. Has someone
{rebulit : rebuilt} it?"
"Why, Captain Black, I am shocked--shocked, that you would still hold
those {upaid : unpaid} taxes against me. Yes, I did make mistakes,
but I'll not make them again. Lessons learned, Captain. Lessons
learned. Oh, and when you adjusted your {cumberbund : cummerbund},
the microphone popped out. Just a smidge." Valmont raised his glass
in a sort of half toast and disappeared into the crowd. The styrofoam
cup of club soda in Black's hand crumpled, spilling liquid all over
his sleeve. Biting back curses, he went to the bar.
Standing at the bar was a stunning, athletic young woman in long
black dress that clung to her lean, shapely, body like a second skin.
She was {chinese : Chinese}, in her early twenties, with short black
hair and large dark eyes that seemed to drink in light. She was
leaning on the bar in a posture of boredom, idly watching people come
and go.
The young woman's eyes flashed with disgust. "How was he?" she asked
as though in idle {curiousity : curiosity}.
"Hasn't changed," Black said and then stooped as the woman dropped
the small purse that she'd been holding. "Allow me," he said even as
she was also kneeling to retrieve the purse.
For one brief moment, {thier : their} heads were close together. "He
saw my {cumberbund : cummerbund} mike," Black said without moving his
lips. "Be careful."
They both stood back up and the woman smiled her thanks. Taking her
drink, she moved off into the crowd. {Recieving : Receiving} a fresh
round of club soda, Black moved off into the crowd only to stop as he
sensed someone behind him.
She shrugged. "Max disappeared last week. He left a note saying he
was off with Virgil and Norman. I haven't heard from him since." She
took a glass of {champange : champagne} from a passing tray.
"As well as can be expected. Graduated high school on the Dean's
List, was accepted into UCLA on a history major, but got booted out
last year." She gave her untouched {champange : champagne} a dirty
look and handed it to a passing waiter. "Coffee," she hissed.
"Black." The waiter nodded and vanished into the crowd.
"That's me," Max replied. "Always jumping." He turned as the same
young lady Black had spoken to at the bar walked up to them. Her eyes
flickered over Annabelle and Max, lingering ever so briefly on Max
and then {sqaurely : squarely} met Black's.
"We found them, Sir. They had some sort of aircraft hidden on a tower
roof two blocks east. {Prelim : Preliminary} reports suggest it was
custom built specifically to {manuever : maneuver} in San Francisco
airspace, but we can't be sure until Kevin strips it down. They were
in {posession : possession} of detailed plans of the building and
non-{leathal : lethal} weaponry. {Unfortunutly : Unfortunately},
there were no ties to Valmont or Dark Hand."
She laughed softly. "Oh, before I forget. You need to attend another
awards {ceramony : ceremony}."
The woman once known as Viper smiled. "A very small, intimate
{ceramony : ceremony}."
Belting his robe, he poured a glass of fine {english : English}
brandy and settled in an overstuffed chair to contemplate the
evening's events.
It had been such a pleasure to tweak Black's nose. Valmont {conceeded
: conceded} that perhaps he had taken a risk, but it had all paid off
handsomely and Section Thirteen was still on the ball...as much as
they had ever been. The mercenaries believed that they had been
employed by a collector in Japan, and since the U.S. and Japan were
glaring at each other over the recent secession by the Hawaiian
Confederacy, any trail Black could follow ended at the edge of U.S.
waters.
The sign on the wall said that the {maintence : maintenance}
{cooridoor : corridor} was for the massive air ducts that pumped the
air from the surface down into the myraid labyrinth that was Section
Thirteen.
They had become lovers towards the end, and stayed that way, stealing
whatever time they could whenever they crossed paths and keeping it
a secret as best they could. Neither Virgil nor Section Thirteen
could know. Both feared possible {seaperation : separation} or worse
should Section Thirteen discover them.
Their sheer violence, their {savagry : savagery}, might seem
shocking, but neither Max nor Jade were the type to take it slow and
gentle.
"Never enough," Jade gasped. "Give it to me, all of it." and she let
out another cry, no longer caring if anyone in the Section Thirteen
complex heard her. The risk of discovery was always a factor, adding
to the {excitment : excitement}.
"Six months," Jade replied. "Vatican City." Her cheeks were flushed
and her chest heaved against his as she gulped in air. She stared up
at him through {smokey : smoky} eyes. "We nearly got discovered by
that Bishop."
Max and Jade stared. Virgil, Norman, and Captain Black stood at the
bend in the hallway along with a three person security {detatchment :
detachment}.
Jade said a dirty word.
It seems a shame that Annabelle couldn't be there too.