Issue 1 Downtime

There was a knock at Victoria's door.

It probably wasn't who she expected.

There was a scrambling around in the room, then Victoria opened the door wearing a silk robe a moment later. Judging from the scent of incense in the air and the remnants of a small ritual in the corner, it had probably just been the closest thing on hand.

She forced a smile. "Given how... 'fun' the past few days have been, shall I dispense with the usual wit and innuendo?"

"Bit of a quandary, I'm afraid. I know how you feel about going to you when all other options are exhausted, but I've reason to believe this may be more your specialty."

"Well, one does get tired of being the last option, but we'll just dispense with that for now," she said, motioning Sam in.

She nodded, stepping in.

"I'd ask how you've been, but I think I have an idea of that, aye?"

"Oh, you rather don't want to hear what I have planned when this Brotherhood nonsense is finally cleared up," she said, confirming Sam's thought. "I'll just assume that your time's been even more lovely than mine."

"I've a serial murderess who escaped a mental institution under... unusual circumstances. We'd thought her recaptured, but the individual in question seems to be someone pressed into service as a decoy."

"I can understand how her mind got the way it is. That makes sense to me. Even the fact that she lacks fingerprints isn't impossible, mundanely."

"Lacking DNA is where we start to think about the unusual circumstances again."

"...You have my complete attention. Can we be a bit more specific, though? Playing coy with information is for the government, not us."

"We were called to the mental institution she'd been kept in. None of the orderlies wanted to go near the room, and that was a shielded room Top notch."

"As we proceeded down the hallway, it seemed to... well I suppose the only mundane way to say it is... decay."

"Physically or... otherwise?" Victoria asked, settling in on her couch as she listened carefully.

"It seemed physically at first, but in the aftermath I'm not so certain. The decay vanished after it was over."

"The other thing was a security guard... emphasis on was. Something got into him, and every last bit of his body fought us, even as it was dismembered."

Victoria nodded, then frowned. "All right. Not that I wont help, but so far this seems to be your forte and not mine." She paused. "Unless the dismembered parts still attacked, and not just the body as its mass was forcibly reduced?"

"Even the man's muscle fibers tried to ensnare me. He was dead. I could sense that much. The fact that he was dead and still moving offended me on some odd level."

Victoria made a face. "Goddess, that i so played out. So not only an evil bitch, but also an uncreative one. Got it."

"I'd hesitate to even call the creature that resulted a zombie. Some force was guiding it long after it was no longer remotely humanoid. When I say it offended me, I mean somewhere deep down in my gut in an irrational way. I felt a bit of myself as the Morrigan rising up against it."

"I'd only known her as a telepath, prior to this. An arrogant one, who styled herself as the Muse of Tragedy, but certainly not capable of this, even when her mind was whole."

"When it all cleared, she was simply gone."

"So either someone has been working on living up to her self image, or she found something that ought not be toyed with," Victoria said.

"I take it that you didn't just think of this while reminiscing, though?"

"It became a hotter case recently. I was researching it, and managed to ferret out that the woman we had on hand wasn't her."

"Then I was called to a murder scene today, which had a very direct call-out to me, and a tissue sample found under the nails of the victim that also bore no traces of DNA."

Victoria frowned. "What type of tissue was it, then?"

"Skin, or so they thought."

"Hm. So when is skin not skin," Victoria mused.

"That's where I'm stumped. However, while Scotland Yard's patience with us may be finite, we don't have to deal with them for the woman we have at Muir."

"Well, it's certainly a place to start," she said, standing up. "I suppose this is where you tell me to put some clothes on."

She chuckled.

"It's not as if I've already fueled the plane."

"Yes, well, you've never had to wait for me to get dressed before, have you?" Victoria smirked. "Going for a plane ride, then, you say?"

"Scotland is pleasant in the fall, aye?"

"Lovely Scotland. Come for the homicidal sociopaths, stay for the burly men in kilts," she mused as she disappeared into her room to get dressed.

"I'm afraid the scenery will be a bit early armageddon bunker, but we'll make do."

"Mmm, no seeing the scenery while we're there, then. Oh well. Seen one empty field, you've seen them all," Victoria called back from her room while she got dressed.

"Business first, aye?"

"Now now. Only the uncreative can't mix the two." She came back out in a very 'witchy' dress, her goth-Victorian side seemingly strong today. "All right. Shall we, darling?"

"Now that you look the part, aye." She chuckled, and led the way onward.