The Diamond Dogs

Who: Martine
What: Cygnet's been given a very special mission
When: A few days after Ben and Attie threw caution and logic to the wind
Where: Making her way home from Green Park
Status: Open

( But her friend is nowhere to be seen, Now she walks through her sunken dream )

Who: Martine, open.
What: Busy but lonely.
When: Pretty much the same time as Madison's breath is finally parted from his body.
Where: Home. Alone.
Status: Martine is home to visitors.

( In the days between the hours )

Who: Martine, Gatsby, open
What: Broody and Moody
When: Thursday, April 14th
Where: A scruffy little cafe that Martine's grown to love
Status: Technically complete, but can be open for any who want to join in.

( As long as I gaze on Waterloo sunset, I am in paradise )

Who: Martine, open as practicable
What: Martine is worried
When: Sunday April 11th, about an hour after Dr. Ferguson is taken from his house.
Where: Her own place
Status:

( Here I am, look this way, in the landscape on your plate )

Who: Martine, Noah, Aidan... and all appropriate points west. :D
What: Aidan's chariot approaches
When: 10th February, shortly after lunch
Where: Heading to Ben's place/At Ben's place/Heading from Ben's place
Status: Incomplete, open.

( Sitting like a princess perched in her electric chair )

Who: Martine, Aidan, open to Ben, Noah, Attie, Esras, Icarus as wanted
Where: Ben's place
When: 25th January, mid-morning
Summary: Everyone needs a visitor, even if they don't believe it

( Christ you know it ain't easy, You know how hard it can be )

Who: Ben, Aidan, Martine, Picasso
What: The Doctor's services are needed.
When: Same night as these events, just a bit later.
Where: Ben's place/surgery.
Status: In progress, eventually open.

( Just 'cause you feel so good do you have to drive me out of my head? )

Who: Martine, MacNamara, Jeepster
What: Introductions and the like
When: Night time!
Where: Jeepster's place to start.

( He stopped once he saw the building )

Who: Martine, open
Where: The crypt of what remains of St. Paul's Cathedral, just after breakfast-time
When: A week after the raid
Summary: Work carries on

( The rain is pouring on the foreign town, the bullets cannot cut you down )

Who: Icarus, Atropine and eventually open to all Diamonds. (We'll let you guys know when.)
Where: Halloween Jack's Riot Cabaret
When: Five or six weeks after Loki's death
What: Icarus is meeting with Attie to find out what happened to Esras's surgery, which has apparently vanished along with Esras.
Status: Incomplete

( I read the news today, oh boy. )

Who: Martine and Spider
Where: Chez Cygnet
When: 10 in the morning! All bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, yes?
Status: In Progress

( Where Spider calls round for Brunch! )

Who: Martine and [open]
When: April 1st, just around 1.50pm
Where: In the city, behind what used to be one of the huge department stores but is earmarked for development into God - or at least the Candidate or Aidan's father - alone knows what
Status: Open

( She had a horror of rooms, She was tired - you can't hide beat )

Who: Martine and OTA
Where: Western outskirts of Hunger City
When: Just before Curfew
Status: OTA

( Prophets, Seers and Sages, the Angels of the Ages )

Who: Aidan and Martine.
Where: Aidan's house.
When: Couple of days after this thread.
Status: Complete

He was upstairs, sitting over by one of the smaller windows and simply watching the river flow past under the streetlamps. He'd been there for almost an hour now, his hands were wrapped round a mug of coffee, and for once, he wasn't thinking. Normally, he spent every waking moment thinking. How to fix this problem where the weapons jam after so long, how to sort out the rattling noise in that engine, how to deal with his over-protective family, not to mention his mother's new-found hobby involving him, namely, her pointless attempts at matchmaking, and so on and so forth.

( He needed a break. )

Martine awoke with a yawn. She checked the time and moaned to herself. Only five past two when she hadn't got to bed until ten this morning.

She knew she wouldn't get back to sleep again now, not without the help of sleeping pills, and she only ever took those when it was absolutely necessary. Okay, so if she wouldn't get back to sleep she'd better try and do something about the tiredness. Coffee.

She slipped out of bed and walked barefoot through to the curtained-off area that served as her kitchen.

While she waited for the kettle to boil she cleaned her teeth at the kitchen sink and realised she needed to get more toothpaste. That meant going out and she really didn't want to. Not yet. Not when she'd been away for over three days trying to find out where MacNamara had gone doing all kinds of fetching and carrying for all and sundry.

Martine hadn't expected to be accepted by the Dead with open arms and, in that, she hadn't been disappointed. There had been a lot of suspicion about the little princess from the high tower suddenly descending to scramble around in the dirt with the scum. Oddly, MacNamara had been one of the most vociferous in stating their need to kill her before she killed all of them. And yet, while several of the others still treated her like a type of upperclass powder monkey cum general factotum cum communal lackey, MacNamara had gone from being... well, an utterly annoying bastard, if the truth be known... to being her staunchest ally and favoured bedmate. Truth be told, she missed him, and she was starting to worry. Of course, he often went missing for periods of time, and she didn't expect him to confide in her over everything. But a hint would have been nice so that she wouldn't start to get itchy when he'd been missing for over a week longer than he'd ever been gone before.

Nobody would tell her, of course. Maybe nobody knew. But with the news about the Ambassador's murder added to MacNamara's absence... she didn't feel right. It had crossed her mind to approach Icarus - if she could find him - but she was pretty sure that, even if he did know, he wouldn't be able to tell her any more than she already knew. Which was a big, fat, useless Nothing.

The hour was far from agreeable, especially after the few days she'd already had. This was her last call, though. It wasn't such a bad one - the officers were, for the most part, taken up with the party being thrown by The Candidate - and while the military were always a big threat, still there were some of them who'd take this chance to slack off a little in their duty.

She'd got to where she was supposed to go with no trouble and made her way behind the row of buildings to the large rubbish skip that was standing there. Taking a look to her left and her right, she jumped and pulled herself up as quietly as possible. Looking into the over half-full skip by the light of the begrimed streetlight she sighed quietly, then grimaced and pushed herself over.

She'd been in worse places. That didn't mean she had to like it, though. Taking care not to disturb the pile of God-alone-knew-what under her feet she made her way over to the far right of the skip, where they'd been told the supplies would be.

She felt around, shuddering at the texture of some of the unidentified contents that passed through her hands. Her mother used to freak if she got the merest speck of plant soil on her perfectly manicured nails. She'd very possibly not survive the shock of seeing her elder daughter up to her elbows and knees in unidentified slop which stank like the fifth layer of Hell.

Finally, her fingers closed round a familiar shape. Carsmile always wrapped his supplies in the same way. She pulled the large package out and examined it, turning it in the dim light until she caught sight of his cypher in one corner.

Martine stood, glancing round carefully. The alleyway was still deserted. She swung the backpack she'd been carrying from her shoulders and opened it. She removed a long dark cloak from inside it and set it aside. Then, she picked up Carsmile's parcel and placed that inside the backpack. Once it was closed, she lifted it and placed it back on her shoulders, then lifted the cloak and placed it over both her and it.

The light had now become more of a liability than a help, but Martine was glad of it. For some reason her claustrophobia was always worse in the dark, and infinitely so in the silent dark. She had no intention of killing it, and relied instead on her small frame, the darkness of the cloak and her acrobatic agility to get back out of the skip, taking great care not to catch the backpack against its metal frame.

She had her delivery address. These goods were needed, and quickly. She decided to take them immediately rather than hold them until morning. Then she could get to her bed and sleep with a clear mind until the bed rejected her, or until she had a visitor.

As she left the alley, she wondered when MacNamara would be back from his latest mission. It'd better be soon, or she'd very likely fall victim to the twitches.

The windows hadn't seen a chamois or vinegared water in who knew how long? The grease and soot-grimed paper was peeling off the walls. Maybe that was actually a good thing. After all, the walls had been pretty much protected from most of the crap that had accrued there thanks to the vinyl vanguard.

Martine sat on a rickety chair with a seat that had once been red but was now begrimed in grey where it hadn't been slashed away. She drank tea the colour of oxtail soup from a large white mug. Actually, the mug WAS white in a way nothing else was in this place.

Her contact was late. Not much, but this one was generally reliable and punctual. Still, there was no accounting for random police checks and, depending on their mood, that could take... well, as long as they decided it'd take.

She took another swig and swallowed the liquid with a wince. Something was telling her it was going to be a long evening but at least keeping awake shouldn't be a problem. Not with tea of this strength threatening to dye her eyeballs from the insides out.