Category Archives: Gaeta V^^

HHI Again

Philip Strevor became bored waiting for Marion Harding to show up with the new recruit to their gang, and started poking around the upper floor of Raven Manor, one of the largest buildings of Capitol City and located in the sim of Babablacksheep.

Hmm, he pondered. Wonder why this big office has a map of Terra Aurca on the wall instead of Gaeta V or Capitol City or sumtin?

He sits down in the centre of the room and thinks: One day I will be a big shot in this town and command from a posh desk like this. He pretends that people are seated opposite him, asking for favors.

“I see, Mrs. Brighton,” he says calmly for the set up. “But *no*, we cannot lend you 10,000 lindens so that your little boy can get out of jail. You can see him in 10 years!” He slams his hand down on the desk to punctuate the idea and then laughs heartily, head tilted backwards. He laughs so hard his sides start to ache. He must be careful.

Marion opens the room’s large oak doors with the fresh recruit in tow. “There you are. Playing like you’re important again?”

Laughter died down, Philip merely grunts.

“I haven’t seen you in about a week, Philip. You’re wearing short sleeves. But where’s your cybernetic arms? What’s happened?”

Philip doesn’t answer but instead stands up stiffly and goes over to the recruit and starts looking her over — he even sniffs her several times during the process. He turns toward Marion. “A *kid*? You said there was a twist, but… a *child*?”

“First off, introductions,” Marion replies, steady in the face of fury. “Philip Strevor, this is Heidi Hunt Ives. Heidi: Philip.”

Heidi Hunt Ives, who is of course Billy Jean Kidd again, extends a hand. “Please to meet you Philip.”

Philip doesn’t shake her hand. He instead roughly takes Marion’s arm and leads him to a far corner of the room. “A word, please,” he says as they walk.

Chance? Heidi thinks with amusement while watching them recede from her. Chants?

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0007, 0301, Capitol City^, Gaeta V^^

snow deal

Marion Harding hated the multi-leveled Christmastown section of Capitol City, but there was a considerable amount of money to be made on this particular deal. Elf trafficking. And this was the time of the year for boom and bust on it. He scouts out one of the main streets from a safe distance, watching some kind of grandma figure be gorged over and over by a reindeer gone rogue. He enjoyed *this*!

Bing Avenue it was called for reasons he didn’t understand. Anyway, that’s where the deal would hopefully go down, har.

He turns in his tracks. Snowing outside still. Better get busy and then head home before it’s over his guns again.

“Five green and two red.”

“Four green and three red,” he reluctantly countered. This would be his final offer.

“Ohh, ummm. Four and a 1/2 green, 2 and a 1/2…”

“You can’t split one of your elves in two,” Marion Harding gruffly pointed out. “Four and three. Take it or leave it.”

“Oh… *all right*.”

Santa God shakes Marion Harding’s hand, sealing the deal.

He leaves Capitol City to return to his Clemscott castle down 7 elves but up 10,000 lindens. Overall, a pretty decent haul and most likely worth the 3 kilometer long trip, he thinks.

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0007, 0211, Capitol City^, Gaeta V^^

’round the clock?

Santa God waited patiently for 10:15, when he would allow Baker Bloch to exit the Christmas Chamber. He wanted to be there in person to greet him and see his smiling face as he opened the door. Like a kid opening presents, except in reverse. Humph, he thought while staring across the castle’s open interior at the Christmas Mural — “Snowball” he lovingly calls it. What *does* he want here? The great 3-n-1 is within, as I’ve told Halloween Jack, the scoundrel. We should probably contact Melvin about this. Although rather an idiot, he’d help smooth over our differences. A quite square little fellow, but he has some allies on his sides and makes good points at times. We can meet at the Forest Retreat, a neutral spot. There we can achieve the low-down on this Mr. Baker Bloch’s motives. What’s *really* inside him and makes him tick.

—–

Halloween Jack was the first to arrive, taking a larger seat as per usual. Santa God refused to sit beside him, and squeezed into one of the smaller chairs two down instead. “Where’s Melvin?” he asks the taller deity. “He said he’d bring him right over.” Santa God reconsidered. “But I guess he has to give him equal time in the Nasty Bodiour”.

“He doesn’t have to sleep with Lady Mary,” Halloween Jack clarifies about Melvin’s own castle room. “He just has to lay with her for 15 minutes.”


Awwkwarrd!

“Melvin’s a sickie, if you ask me. And why does he get the highest castle again? First one here?”

“Yes, like I was first to arrive at our meeting and I grabbed a higher chair. I knew you wouldn’t want to sit next to me, and 3 down is too far away. Hence you are forced into a lower chair. That’s us, then… the two ‘Lowies’. I don’t like to make the same mistake twice.”

“I’m still a little higher than you,” Santa God replies about the position of his own castle while readjusting himself in his chair.

“Not here, though. Not now.”

“Hrmph.” Santa God turns his innate loathing back to Melvin. “I guess he’ll start to bedeck the place with his Fourth of Juli stuff soon.”

“Not until I take down my Halloween decor,” offers Jack. “That’s how it works. We don’t have enough prims otherwise. And yours, lets see, is due to come down December 26th? hehe.”

“August,” says Santa God disgustedly. “September till August. That’s the deal.”

“And I get the trees instead of you,” Halloween Jack finishes.

Melvin arrives with the guest to their plane.

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planes to see

“Approach!”

“Oh, it’s you Halloween Jack. What do you want here? A truce? I told you we can’t do a truce. We are mortal enemies!”

“No, Santa God. I am not here for that today. A stranger is amongst us. At my castle gate and now yours. A Mr. Baker Bloch. Said he understood that he needs to get permission from *us* to pass to higher planes.

Santa God guffawed. “What higher planes, hmph? The blank one without ours and Melvin’s castles? The huge, empty cave? The, let’s see, the one with the several smaller, empty caves and, um, a couple of flying fish I believe? There’s nothing up there! What pray tell does he want with the lot of ’em?”

“He said he’s looking for the great 3-n-1.”

“Maybe he needs to look into his heart, mind, soul. The 3-n-1 is within us and that is that. You’ll know one day.”

Halloween Jack ignores what he considers a more degenerate piece of Santa God’s religious mumbo jumbo. Like rotted fruit. Already they were battling for his soul. “Shall I send him away, then?”

“No, that’s all right. Let’s hear out his story, crazy as it may be. First, let him wait in the Christmas Chamber.


Christmas Chamber.

“That’ll put him in a good mood and help balance out the warped environment he experienced over at your dark castle already. You probably let him wait in your batty Bat Room, didn’t you?”

“N-no,” Halloween Jack lied.

“That’s what I thought.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0007, 0209, Clemscott^, Gaeta V^^

can’t wait

The Musician was carefully cleaning his new cyborg body parts in the glimmering cave pool when Wheeler sprinted into the room. “No time for that, punk, we’ve been found out!”

But he didn’t immediately jump into action. “What are you on about *now*?” he asked while continuing to wash his left arm. In truth, he was still pissed at Wheeler for not appreciating Jimmy’s solution to the stigmata problem. True, it was kind of trading one set of stigmata for another. But at least he wouldn’t keep waking up in a blood soaked bed.

Speaking of which: “Pull out our beds!” the now stationary Wheeler called from the bank. “The ones sent by Jacob. Hurry!”

The Musician kept cool and switched cybernetic arms to bathe.  “Jacob? I’m not sure… oh, right, the *collage*. The one with the two beds. Well… he said he’d give it to us but was still searching for the base image, the one with no beds. He warned us not to use the current one, just to study it. Is that the beds you’re talking about, Wheeler?”

“You know they are,” she huffed, folding her arms and impatiently stamping her left foot on the cave floor. “And its in *your* inventory. He gave it to you and not me for some reason.” She anxiously looked toward the room entrace from whence she came. “I think I hear footsteps. Jimmy.”

“Jimmy?” queried The Musician, now washing between his real fingers. “What’s he got to do with all this?”

“Again… *no time.* Pull out the picture. I *demand* it.”

“I’m not going to do that, Wheeler. Jacob said to wait.”

Wheeler huffed some more and looked again toward the cave passage leading to this room. “Oooh, *please* Musician. I’m *sorry* I didn’t like your new, metallic limbs and belly. I’m *sorry* I didn’t appreciate the teeth. New things take time,” She glanced again at the room entrance for emphasis. “Which we have *little of*.”

“Alright,” The Musician finally acquiesced, moving toward her through the shallow water. “Good thing all these new workings are titanium and not steel. We’d be here an additional 15 minutes with me drying!”

As soon as he reached the bank, Wheeler clasped his hand and started running again. While being dragged along to the end of their vacation, in effect, he looked through his inventory and found the collage.

“We’re here, Musician,” Wheeler said, catching her breath again at the doorway to the last room. The final cave room. “Now… *rezz the beds*.”

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Revealing

Upon reaching the cave’s upper mouth — leaving The Musician behind in its bowels again while she scouts for additional, useful poses — Wheeler spies Willard and Harriet Miller dancing up a storm in a nearby gazebo.

Then something extraordinary happens. The couple instantly cease their gyrating, then Harriet appears to fall asleep on the spot. Like she’s “away”, as we say in Second Lyfe speak.

Another takes her place. Jimmy. The *bastard*, Wheeler thinks. He’s asleep too, for a moment, then springs awake.

“You can go now,” Wheeler can hear him say faintly from her position. He’s apparently speaking to Willard Miller, for just after this the husband of Harriet Miller vanishes — poofs out of existence.

“It’s time to come out of the closet, er cave,” he then calls in the direction of Wheeler. “It’s time for you guys to remember who you are. The upper 2/3rds of the infamous punk band Story Room, with me completing the trilogy.

Jimmy approaches the cave mouth, still quite red but now much taller. And also a woman.

Tammy Whatammy?

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Brilliant Twin

The Musician couldn’t help himself at breakfast. He had to show off his new cybernetic arms and torso to The Millers. Artist Harriet Miller was completely taken by the shirtless subject, and insisted he pose as a model for her newest work. Wheeler Wilson reluctantly tagged along to Harriet’s creative getaway tucked in the small woods, along with her husband Willard, an insurance salesman at Barnum and Bailey’s.

Wheeler was thinking: Willard looks *so* familiar.

On a window ledge of the cabin, Dirty, Frosty, and Bluebell wonder what they’re gandering at with the part machine Musician.

The Millers having returned to their primary lodgings, we catch up with Wheeler and The Musician partaking of after-breakfast treats at a nearby frozen pond. He was explaining more about the procedure.

“Same thing happened to Philip. No problems in 10 years. He just keeps his shirt on, like you’ve suggested to me about 10 times now… keeps the eyeglasses on so the vision will always remain slotted — no problem there again, really — and then keeps his mouth shut as much as possible. Because without the teeth, the deal is not sealed. The great 3-n-1.”

He forcefully smiles for Wheeler Wilson again. More metal. More jagged.

I’m going to kill Jimmy the next time I see him, she thinks.

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Shirtless in Comfrey

Grace Zebriskia gasped when seeing The Musician pass earlier this morning on his way over to Wheeler Wilson’s Japanese house.

“Good morning, Grace.”

“Good *morning*, Mr. Musician. How… how are you?”

“Fine Grace, fine. Never mind all this. I’m fine. Have a good day.”

“You too sir!”

—-

Deep in meditative thought, Jimmy’s bunkmate Rey Wisa did not turn in his seat to look, but only echoed a vacant hello to The Musician’s passing hello. He knew what had happened.

—–

He stops in front of Grace’s twin cousin Jowday and asks if Wheeler is up yet. “Yes sir,” she replied, markedly not as surprised with The Musician’s appearance as her virtual doppleganger. He briefly wonders why before moving on.

—–

“Musician! What have you done to yourself?!”

“I got rid of the stigmata, Wheeler. Jimmy fixed me up. Said he did the same thing for his astronomer friend Philip back in Australia.”

“Can you *undo* it?” she asked with mouth still dropped.

He paused, disappointed in her reaction. Then: “I think not.”

“Well throw a shirt on all that at least, for Christ’s sake. The Millers are waiting for us in the gazebo.”

—–

The Musician then rummaged through his inventory for a suitable breakfast shirt. Not too punk but not too tame. And, obviously, with long sleeves.

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landscape

“I can’t see *anything*, Pitch thinks. “I can’t hear, can’t speak. My life is over.”

“We’ll get you fixed up,” Mary encourages in his head while continuing to stare at the giant fruit in front of her. “Apple, orange, yellow fruit, lime. There’s nothing to see, hear, speak about. Yet. We’ll get you fixed up.”


Merlin Martin

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0007, 0204, Clemscott^, Gaeta V^^

“One Pink”

Pitch had always gotten chills when walking past this particular spot on his Grassy Avenue. Tonight he understood why. Two cardboard figures, Derek Jones and Sikul Himakt Mykall Skall, awaited him at the location. Pitch temporarily lost his sight.

“Ahh, my eyes! I can’t see.”

And soon he couldn’t hear or speak either.

—–

Jacob I. was now up on the second floor of House Greenup in Rubi. He had reached Greenup 11 in his examination. Himself.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0007, 0202, Clemscott^, Gaeta V^^, Heterocera, Rubi^