Microwave Sushi

High Concept

Black ops Cleaner indentured to the Summer Court

Invoke
Favours, status, information or help related to the Cleaners, her army background or the fae
Compel
Trouble related to the above. Superiors giving orders, Summer court patron calling in a favour, etc.
Tag
Superiors giving orders, Summer Court patron leaning on her, reluctance to go up against either

Theme

Conflicted loyalties

Invoke:
Strength of will, desire to succeed in a goal related to loyalties
Compel:
Trouble related to loyalties; choosing between them, conflicting goals
Tag:
Threats, offers of help, blackmail

Background

Aspect: I won’t let them get me like they got Samantha.

Invoke:
Resisting supernaturals
Compel:
Trouble involving supernaturals; anything involving Samantha; paranoia about a particular person or situation
Tag:
Keeping her off-balance in conflicts involving the supernatural or Samantha, paranoia (as above)

Evelyn Amelia Blunt is the youngest child of Michael Adam Blunt and Genevieve Summerfield. Her parents’ marriage was something of a scandal back in the day. The traditional, conservative, staunchly Catholic, old-money Blunts took great exception to their youngest son eloping with a free-spirited artist. She didn’t even have the decency to take her husband’s name. Nevertheless, what was done was done. Despite certain dire predictions, Michael and Genevieve’s marriage remained strong and they eventually managed to win his parents’ acceptance. This feat was due mostly to Genevieve’s determination, although the birth of their first child helped a great deal.

With six older brothers, it was pretty much guaranteed that Evelyn was going to grow up something of a tomboy. Genevieve did her best to instil some ladylike qualities in her only daughter, but even she eventually had to admit defeat. Part of her efforts involved introducing the young Evelyn to Samantha Grey, the daughter of one of her friends. Samantha was just about the cutest, most girly little girl it was possible to imagine, but despite all that, she and Evelyn quickly became best friends. Unfortunately, Samantha didn’t prove to be quite the good influence that Genevieve had hoped for. Looking angelic isn’t the same thing as being angelic, and the two girls managed to get themselves into a great deal of trouble. Evelyn never did manage to get the hang of being ladylike. In fact, it was because of Samantha that she ended up in the SAS.

When her best friend in all the world didn’t show up for her eleventh birthday party, she knew that something was wrong. When no one answered the phone at Samantha’s house, she was sure of it. The party went ahead anyway – largely at her mother’s insistence – but she was far too anxious and miserable to actually enjoy it. In the end, she sneaked out, leaped onto her brand new BMX bike and headed for Samantha’s house as fast as she could pedal. Samantha’s street was a hive of activity, lit by the flashing blue lights of police squad cars. The house itself was barricaded behind a line of crime scene tape, and police officers seemed to be everywhere. Clumps of people were standing around, whispering among themselves as they watched the proceedings. The word on their lips was ‘murder’.

The story made all the headlines: ‘Parents brutally slain, little girl missing’. Evelyn wasn’t supposed to read those articles or watch the news reports, but she did anyway. It didn’t help. They didn’t know anything. Worse, they seemed to take a morbid delight in speculating about what gruesome fate might have befallen her missing friend. The worry gnawed at her until it was almost a physical pain, only growing sharper as weeks went by with no word. She didn’t give up, though; didn’t stop hoping. And then, one night, that hope was rewarded.

One moment, she was lost in dreams. The next, she was jolted awake. As she lay there, trying to work out what had disturbed her, her answer came in the form of a gentle tapping at her window. Blearily opening her eyes, she looked towards the window. Through the gap where the curtains didn’t quite meet, she could just about make out a shape; a figure. There was someone outside.
“Evelyn…” The voice was accompanied by more tapping. “Evelyn, it’s me. Come on.” A few moments of silence, and then: “Wake up, you dozy cow!”
“Sam?” She padded over to the window and peered out. Sure enough, her friend stood there on the narrow ledge, nose pressed up against the glass. “Samantha? What are you doing out there?”
“Waiting for you.”
“But…” How could she be out there like nothing happened? Was this a dream? A thousand questions crowded her tongue, but before she could ask any of them, Samantha interrupted with irritated impatience.
“Are you going to open the window or what? I can’t hold on forever.”
“Oh. Right.” This was Samantha. Questions could wait. “Careful.” She slid the window upwards and stepped back, but Samantha just stood there, frowning a little. She frowned back. “Aren’t you coming in?”
“I’ve changed my mind. Why don’t you come out here?” With those words, she turned and gripped the branch of the old tree, climbing down with the ease of familiarity. Without hesitation, Evelyn followed. Too impatient to climb all the way, she jumped the last couple of feet. Even so, Samantha was already some distance away. She must have started running as soon as her feet hit the ground. “Race you to the stream,” she called back as she disappeared through the gap in the hedge. Muttering a few words she wasn’t supposed to say – she’d learned them from her brothers, of course – Evelyn hared after her.

She was confident she’d catch Samantha: she’d always been the faster one. But somehow, this time, she just couldn’t keep up. By the time she reached the finish line, flushed and out of breath, the other girl was stretched casually out on her grass as if she’d been waiting for ages. The damp and the chill didn’t seem to bother her. She wasn’t even breathing hard; her skin as porcelain pale as it ever was.

“Aren’t you cold?” Evelyn leaned against a tree, trying not to show her exhaustion. Even under these strange circumstances, her pride wouldn’t let her do anything else.
“Not really.” Samantha’s voice was distant and dreamy.
A few moments of silence, apart from the gentle trickling of water, and then: “What happened?”
“It isn’t important.”
“But… Your parents. They were…” She couldn’t finish the sentence; couldn’t say that word. “I’m so sorry, Sam.” Hesitating briefly, she asked, in a voice barely above a whisper: “Were you there, when they… when it happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Still that same detached, far away tone.
“Where have you been? The police looked for you. I looked for you.”
“And now you’ve found me.” She got to her feet, frowning as she noticed the grass stains on her clothes. “Damn. I liked this skirt.”
“You’re the one who lay down on wet grass,” Evelyn pointed out. “Are you sure you’re not cold?”
A shrug. “I feel fine.”
“Well, you’re acting weird.”
“You’re the weird one.”
“I am not!”
“Yes, you are.” But she smiled when she said it, and it was impossible to hold on to the irritation. Samantha was back and everything was going to be alright.

Impulsively, Evelyn wrapped her arms around the other girl, hugging her tightly.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she whispered. “I was so worried.” The relief was so overwhelming that it took her a few heartbeats to notice that Samantha had gone completely still in the embrace, arms held rigidly at her sides. As soon as she realised, she all but leaped back. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, trying not to show how much the reaction hurt. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” ‘Stupid!’ she scolded herself. ‘Of course she’s on edge, with what she’s just been through. I shouldn’t have just blundered in like that.’
“I have to go.” Samantha didn’t sound distant any more. Her voice was hoarse and thick; strangely intense. She bowed her head so that her fine blonde hair fell across her face like a veil, hiding her expression.
“But you just got here!” Evelyn started to reach out again, but then caught herself and settled for shifting her weight restlessly from one foot to the other. “I’m sorry if I spooked you. I didn’t mean to. I won’t hug you again if you don’t want me to.”
“It’s not that, Evie. It’s…” Samantha sighs. “I can’t explain. I just have to go.”
“Will you come back?”
She nods slowly. “Tomorrow night. If you want me to.”
“Of course I do! What kind of a daft question is that?” She shook her head, the knot in her throat easing a little.
“Good. That’s good.” The words sound relieved, as if Samantha hadn’t been sure what her answer would be. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, then.”
“Tomorrow,” Evelyn echoed, softly. Samantha turned to leave, but then abruptly spun around to face her. The moonlight played strange tricks with shadow so that her eyes looked almost black.
“You can’t tell anyone I was here,” she said.
“But…”
“No one. Do you understand?”
“Yes, but…”
“If you do, then I’ll never come back. Never.”
Evelyn stared at her, shocked and uncertain. “But why? Everyone’s so worried. Is it because… Are you afraid of the people who… who hurt your parents?” Her voice lost its uncertainty, the next sentences broadcasting defiance into the night. “You don’t have to be. I’ll protect you, Sam. They’ll have to get through me first!”
Samantha gave a tiny smile. “I know,” she said. “You always were the brave one.” The smile faded. “But this is different. You can’t protect me this time. And you can’t tell anyone you saw me.”
“You’re sure? That’s really what you want?”
“Yes.”
Evelyn sighed heavily. “Then I won’t tell,” she said, reluctantly.
“Promise me.”
“I just said…”
“Promise!”
“Fine! I promise I won’t tell anyone you were here tonight. Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.” She pantomimed the actions; they always did when it was really, really serious. “Happy now?”
“Yes. Thank you.” She tilted her head quizzically. “What was the death?”
“Ebola. I was reading about it the other day and it sounds nasty.” She said that last word in the same tone someone else might have said ‘really, really cool!’ “It makes you explode!”
“That can’t be true.”
“Well, it makes all your blood vessels burst, which is practically the same thing. Blood spraying everywhere! You wouldn’t want to have to clean up after one of those, that’s for sure.”
“Umm, yeah.” Samantha’s voice sounded strange again. “Anyway, I really have to go. Bye, Evelyn.” She turned away.
“Goodbye. See you tomorrow night?”
“I’ll be here.” And with that, Samantha ran off into the trees. Evelyn tried to follow – ‘I never said I wouldn’t try to see where she went!’ – but it was no use. Samantha had vanished without a trace.

True to her word, Samantha returned the following night, the night after that and every night for the next week. The girls played and talked, exploring the woods and having adventures. It was almost as if things were back to normal; as if the events of Evelyn’s birthday had never happened. Almost. But there were still so many unanswered questions. Every time Evelyn tried to ask about what happened, or where she’d been for the past few weeks, Samantha either ignored the question, or said it wasn’t important. Evelyn pressed the issue once, and Samantha just left. She spent a restless day wondering if she’d gone for good that time, but her friend was back the following night as if nothing had happened. Clearly, the direct approach wasn’t going to work.

The last night started out much like any of the others. They raced again – Samantha won, again – and spent some time rambling around the woods while they talked about people they knew. It wasn’t an accident that their path took them past certain important places. The tree-house they kept meaning to finish. The pond where they were convinced they saw an ichthyosaurus that one time. The tree they climbed to get away from a rabid wolf. (Well, okay, it might have been a dog. And maybe it wasn’t literally rabid, but it was certainly chasing them, even though they hadn’t technically been trespassing.) Places that meant something to them, and their friendship. Evelyn made sure to point these out. It wasn’t the most subtle approach, perhaps, but it was the only thing she could think of. She also made sure to take every opportunity to refer to times when she’d protected her friend. Like the time she took the blame for throwing that mud ball at one of the local bullies.

Samantha shook her head.
“I was sure they were going to catch you.”
“Nah, not me. Too fast. Besides – they didn’t know these woods like we do.” She flashed a wicked grin. “You should’ve seen their faces when they got dumped in that hole on their arses. I knew that log wouldn’t take them tromping across it like a herd of elephants.”
“They got you later, though, didn’t they?”
Evelyn shrugged. “That was later, though. And it was worth it.” She looked at Samantha. “I’m your friend, Sam. I’ll always look out for you. That’s what friends do.”
“I know, but…”
“And you know you can trust me, right?”
“Of course.”
“I mean, I’ve always kept every secret you’ve asked me to. Always.”
Samantha sighed heavily. “I know that. I do trust you, Evie, but it’s… complicated. Things are different now.”
“I’m still your friend. What’s complicated about that?”
Samantha started to say something, but then stopped, a look of panic spreading over her face. “What time is it?”
“I don’t know. I left my watch on my bedside table. Why?”
“I have to go. I’ve stayed too long; I have to…” She turned to leave just as the first rays of sunlight slipped over the horizon, bathing her in their gentle, golden glow.
“What is it?” Evelyn asked. “What’s wrong?” But the words died in her throat as Samantha started to scream. The sound was raw and agonised, and somehow inhuman. But that wasn’t the worst of it. Samantha’s skin blistered, bubbled and then evaporated, revealing black, leathery hide underneath. Before her horrified eyes, her best friend became a monster. No, it was worse than that: she’d been a monster all along. The creature turned and fled, leaving Evelyn helpless to do anything other than stare after her. Only one coherent thought stood out from the confused mass of emotion inside her: things were never going to be the same again.

Since that night, Evelyn dedicated herself to fighting against the monsters that walk alongside humanity. After being dragged to a counsellor by her worried mother – and teased mercilessly by her brothers – she learned to keep her mouth shut about what happened. Instead, she concentrated on doing everything she could to make sure that what happened to her friend wouldn’t happen to her, or to anyone else she cared about. She took martial arts classes, read every book about the supernatural she could get her hands on, and kept her eyes and ears open. When she was old enough, she joined the army. Of course, between her family’s long and distinguished tradition of service, competition with her brothers and the war stories her adored grandfather told her, she would almost certainly have done that anyway. It was in her blood. If it wasn’t for Samantha, though, she might not have pushed herself as hard and as far as she did.

Evelyn joined the SAS, and acquired a distinguished service record of her own, but that still wasn’t enough. Hearing rumours of an even more elite unit – one sent in to deal with foes that weren’t precisely human – she tried to find out more. The main question on her mind was: where could she sign up? Unfortunately, all her leads turned into dead ends. Before she could formulate another plan, her squad were sent into the field. The assignment was last-minute and very hush-hush. Some terrorists had taken a group of people hostage and were threatening to kill them. Unfortunately, they’d lucked out and managed to get hold of someone very important indeed. The only saving grace was that the terrorists didn’t seem to realise what a valuable asset they had in their hands. Command wanted to make sure it stayed that way. The squad’s orders were to extract the hostages and to make sure that any information the enemy might have gotten from the VIP died with them. If rescue wasn’t possible, then they were to terminate. Although not the preferred outcome, it was judged preferable to letting him stay in their hands. The squad weren’t told what made the VIP so important: they didn’t need to know.

On the surface of it, the mission seemed straightforward enough. None of the squad members actually believed it would be that easy, of course, but no one expected the clusterfuck it turned into. They went in under cover of night. Infiltrating the compound went off without a hitch, but there was no sign of the hostages. Aside from the few guards they encountered on their way in – far fewer than they’d been led to expect – the base seemed to have been mostly abandoned. Something wasn’t right here, but they had their orders. When they found what looked like a concealed cellar entrance, they had no choice but to investigate. And that’s when it all went to hell.

The “cellar” turned out to be a network of tunnels and passages. These looked old, pre-dating the compound above it (although someone had since rigged up makeshift electric lights). They must have belonged to whatever building had stood here before the terrorists moved in. Presumably, this was where they would find the hostages, and the rest of the terrorists. The only strange thing was that there didn’t appear to be any guards. Cautiously, they moved in and started to scout out the underground complex. A little way in, they came to what seemed to be a major intersection. Davies, on point, was just turning back to tell them it was clear when something tore him apart. After a brief, frozen moment, training took over. The squad started to move… and then the lights went out.

Movement in the darkness; breath of air, warm sticky rain. Charnel stench and tang of iron. Abel and Jefferies missing from sound-off; not even a cry to mark their passing. No one moved that fast or that quietly, no one. Were the terrorists pumping PCP? That wasn’t in the intel, but they could take that up with command if they ever made it out of here. More movement, from behind them this time, cutting off their avenue of retreat. How did the enemy get behind them? Rending noises and a pained, gurgling cry. A wounded man they somehow had to try to treat; to move without killing him. All while trying to protect themselves from an enemy they couldn’t see; an enemy who seemed to be just playing with their prey. Someone clicked on a torch, the benefits of sight outweighing the risks of visibility. It was Jensen, dimly illuminated as he quickly played the beam over the scene in the tunnel. It showed Stevens bending over the downed man, trying vainly to staunch the flow of blood while Ben and Evelyn stood guard. It also showed other figures looming from the shadows. The enemy. And the enemy weren’t human.

They looked like walking corpses. Jensen just freaked out completely when he got a look at them. Dropping his torch to the ground, he screamed and gibbered and sprayed bullets like water. He seemed to either have forgotten or simply not care about his own people in the line of fire. The bullets didn’t seem to bother the… the creatures at all, but they did get their attention. When they pounced on him, it was like something out of a nature documentary; a pride of lions bringing down a zebra. He didn’t die cleanly, but his unwitting sacrifice gave the others a chance. Recovering her wits, Evelyn got the others moving, Ben and Stevens all-but dragging the Edwards with them. They weren’t going to leave any more of them to the monsters if they could help it.

Just four of them left out of an eight-man squad. Three and a half, really, since Edwards was almost certainly going to die without serious medical attention. There was no point in running – they didn’t even know where the exit was at this point, and those things were just too fast – but they could set an ambush. The dead-things-pouncing were like something Bela Lugosi might play, which gave Evelyn a couple of ideas.

The vampires raced round the corner to find themselves confronted by Evelyn holding up a crucifix, chanting the Lord’s prayer. (Under these circumstances, it was pretty much the only one she could remember.) She thought she was screaming the words, but so much gunfire in the enclosed tunnels meant had all but wiped out her hearing. She didn’t know if this would work – at this point, blind faith was all she had to go on – but there weren’t many options. They did pause, but only momentarily. Fortunately, that was all the time Ben and Stevens needed to light the flares. Even monsters – well, these monsters – didn’t like a faceful of fire.

The flares gave them an edge, but the vampires were still tremendously fast and strong, shrugging off bullets like they weren’t there. Once they were down, decapitation – another of Evelyn’s ideas – kept them down, but that took time. Staking would have been quicker, but there weren’t any suitable stakes conveniently to hand. Stevens’ flare went out, and the creatures were on him less than a heartbeat later. They didn’t drag out his death like they did Jensen’s. Then Evelyn and Ben fought back to back, trying to force their way through. Their only hope was to make it to the exit before their dwindling supply of flares ran out, and before either of them were too badly hurt to keep moving. But the monsters kept coming, and they weren’t even sure where the way out was. They kept on fighting, knowing that, ultimately, they were going to lose, but neither of them willing to give up.

First one flare died, and then the other. Darkness closed in. Someone chuckled, the sound rich with anticipation, and then everything was blood and confusion. Separating them was the first thing the monsters did. Then came the chase. The creatures were back to playing again: perhaps payback for the fire, and for their own injuries and losses. A slash here, a blow there, but nothing fatal, not yet. Evelyn still had her crucifix, but it wasn’t holding them back this time. It was hard to have faith knowing she was going to be killed by something like that.

When the cavalry showed up, she almost didn’t recognise it for what it was. First, there was s tremendous explosion. It shook the tunnels, making her stumble and fall. She thought that was it; that they’d be on her before she hit the ground, but then the whole place was flooded with light. It was like sunlight on a clear summer’s day, almost blinding after the pitch darkness. She knew that was impossible – dawn was still hours away – but there it was. Something screamed, inhuman and agonised, and for the first time since this nightmare began, she started to think she might actually live through this. People started to flood into the tunnels, people dressed like she was, but carrying swords and stakes and, in a couple of cases, things that looked remarkably like flamethrowers. There seemed to be a lot of them. Whoever they were, they took down the vampires with ruthless efficiency. They almost killed Evelyn too, but hesitated when she dropped her weapons and put her hands up. One of them pointed at her crucifix – the chain was wrapped around one wrist to leave her hands free – and said something she didn’t hear. He called over another man who seemed to be in charge, and then her part in things was pretty much over.

Evelyn was searched, disarmed (although they let her keep her crucifix), cuffed and hustled above-ground. Whoever they were, they weren’t taking any chances. After having seen what was down in those tunnels, though, she couldn’t exactly blame them. First, they took her to a field-medic to be examined and patched up. (She was badly injured. The only thing keeping her on her feet was sheer bloody-minded stubbornness. That was aided by the drugs they gave her.) After that – and over the medic’s objections – they escorted her into one of the buildings that the newcomers had apparently appropriated for their own use. There were questions. Lots of questions: who she was, what she was doing there, what had happened. What she did down there and why. Her childhood. Samantha. They just went on and on and on. So many question. Some of them the same questions, over and over again, asked in different ways. She tried to ask questions of her own – about the others, about what those things really were; about who the flying fuck this outfit was – but they just ignored them. The debriefing (or, more properly, interrogation) seemed to go on forever. Eventually, however, they let her sleep.

The next day, they told her that she was the only member of her squad who survived the scourge of Black Court vampires. And then they explained what Black Court vampires were. And then they made her a job offer. That was how Evelyn came to join the Cleaners.

Questions:

Did whoever sent in an SAS squad know about the nest of Black Court vampires beforehand? Were Evelyn’s squad used as stalking horses? If so, why them? Was it coincidence, or did Evelyn piss off the wrong person with her digging? Was there really a hostage? If so, it must have been someone important to the Cleaners. Or, maybe there wasn’t a hostage. Maybe they were intending to take a prisoner. Or maybe they just wanted to wipe out the nest. If the mission had been infiltrated by the Sons of Man, this could be where they recruited Ben. If they spirited him away secretly, that would explain why he was assumed to be dead.

What shaped you?

Aspect: Better to seek forgiveness than to ask permission.

Invoke:
To get something done, to be as ruthless as she needs to be.
Compel:
To go ahead and act, when perhaps waiting might be the better option (the easiest way isn’t always the right way).
Tag:
Guilt trips

During an assignment, Evelyn came into contact with the Winter Court’s envoy to Milton Keynes. He seduced her, probably with the assistance of faerie glamour (and possibly fae wine) and they went to bed. The morning after, she deeply regretted the night before. She didn’t know whether she was really in her right mind when she said yes. She couldn’t say that it was non-consensual, but there was enough room for doubt that she feels deeply uncomfortable over the whole affair, and about him.

Time passed. She had no more contact with the Winter fae. There were other assignments, including dealing with a group of Ghouls who were causing trouble. The Cleaners wanted them taken out. During the course of the operation, the action got a little more up close and personal than she would prefer. Still, the targets were dealt with, and none of the team were killed or seriously injured. All in all, the mission was counted as a success. Shortly after afterwards, Evelyn discovered that she was pregnant. After a certain amount of denial (and swearing, and wanton destruction of property), she accepted that her liaison with the Winter fae was going to have some lasting consequences. She was going to keep the child, of course (that was never in doubt) and resolved to try to be careful from now on. Unfortunately, the decision was taken out of her hands. The Ghouls had been trying to find out who was responsible for the hit on them. Maybe the Cleaners even told them, to hammer home that they had the ability to enforce the detente if necessary. Or maybe the Ghouls were just that good. In any case, they mounted a counter-attack. Evelyn was jumped. She survived the attack, but was injured and started to miscarry.

In desperation, Evelyn sought out a Summer Court fae she’d heard was in town. She reasoned that if anyone could save her child, it would be one of those. She was right, and the faerie agreed to aid her – for a price. She took Evelyn into the nevernever (for the task required magics too potent for the mortal world) and worked the healing. The magic also quickened the child’s growth, bringing it to term in a matter of hours. Evelyn gave birth in the Summer lands, with a faerie midwife. It was only then that the fae told her the price was the child itself. She would never have agreed to that if she’d known, but nevertheless she had agreed. The faerie was by far her superior in the matter of making bargains. There was no clear way out of this – she was still in Summer’s realm, after all – so she offered a new bargain: her service for her child. The deal was accepted, more or less. Even if it wasn’t quite the one she’d hoped for, it was better than nothing. When she has completed a number of favours for her patron, she will be reunited with her child.

When the bargaining was concluded, the faerie sent her back to her own world with admonishment that she would be in touch. Naturally, she said nothing to her superiors about the bargain. Their stance on their agents being compromised is both well known and not negotiable. Firing her is the least they would do. For a time, nothing happened. Discreetly, she started looking into ways of trying to get herself free of the agreement. When more time went by without contact from her patron, she decided to be more pro-active. She went to the faerie with something that she thought must be worth one of the favours. The fae made encouraging noises, so she went ahead… only to find out that, because it wasn’t specifically requested of her, it didn’t count. She hasn’t made that mistake again.

The first favour wasn’t so bad. The next one was worse, but she didn’t have a choice. The third, well, she’s in it up to her neck now. There haven’t been many more since, though. The fae is being somewhat miserly, no doubt loath to lose her cat’s paw just yet. Evelyn is finding the whole thing rather frustrating.

As well as trying to find a way out of the bargain, she’s also been trying to find out what happened to her child. There was nothing in the agreement stopping her from looking, after all. To that end, she’s started to make contact with some of the Summer fae currently hiding among Milton Keynes’ homeless population. She hasn’t got very far yet, but she’s persevering. (Maybe she’s heard a rumour that’s led her to believe her child is in Milton Keynes and is all grown up? Or maybe that’s something that should happen in play. Certainly, she knows time flows differently in the nevernever, so she knows she’s not necessarily looking for a newborn.)

The whole incident has left her with a mile-wide streak of guilt and sizeable grudge against the fae. The extent of her distrust might be considered paranoid if it weren’t largely justified. There’s a certain amount of fear when she considers how easily she was influenced and tricked by the Winter and Summer fae, respectively. Strangely, though, she’s also fascinated by them. And by him. Not that she’d ever admit it, even to herself.

Novel: Fool’s Mate

Supporting: Bethany Smith and Delacroix

Aspect:
I saved the Red Court from the Sons of Man
Invoke:
Favours or information from the Red Court, intimidating members of the Red Court or the Sons of Man, reputation among the Cleaners and the supernatural community
Compel:
Machinations of the Red Court and the Sons of Man, revenge attempts by the Sons of Man, people asking for her help because of her actions
Tag:
Attacking her confidence and sense of humanity (pointing out that she’s helped the monsters against the humans)

“Identify yourself,” I snarled, keeping my gun trained on the intruder. What can I say? I’m cranky when I’ve just woken up. He was bloody lucky I didn’t start by firing a warning shot into his left kneecap.
“Asking questions before shooting? Don’t tell me the Blunt Instrument’s mellowing in her old age?” That voice… I knew that voice. And that damned annoying nickname. I shifted position slightly to get a better look at his face. It really was him, or at least something that looked and sounded like him. This… changed things. Luckily, I was prepared. I’m always prepared. Crucifix at the ready, I palmed a globe of holy saline solution – don’t look at me; it’s a prototype – and made sure I was out of spitting distance.
“Ben?”
“In the flesh, Evie B.”
“Huh.” I was tempted to shoot him just on general principles. “I see you have that same problem with getting my name right.”
“And the same great arse?” I ignored that. Acknowledging the remark would have been far beneath my dignity. Besides: I’ve seen better arses.
“There’s just one small problem.”
“What’s that?”
“I went to your funeral.”

For most people, meeting up with an old colleague doesn’t mean a member of your old SAS unit breaking into your house in the middle of the night. Evelyn Blunt isn’t most people. That’s why she works for the Cleaners, keeping the supernatural inhabitants of Milton Keynes in check and preserving the fragile détente. The Sons of Man are offering her the chance to do something more than that: to deal with the supernatural threats to humankind once and for all. It’s an offer she can’t refuse… or is it?

What are the Sons of Man really up to? Can Evelyn stop the mysterious De La Croix rushing in where angels fear to tread? Is Bethany, the pretty DJ she rescued, quite as innocent as she seems?

In a game where black and white are only different shades of grey, how can she tell her friends from her enemies?

Supporting Role in: Heart of Thorns (Linden Thorn)

Aspect: What’s the worst that could happen?

Invoke:
Tactics/casing rolls. Planning for every eventuality. Rolls to avoid being surprised.
Compel:
Anything that can go wrong, will.
Tag:
Always expecting the worst of someone. (Deceit to make her think someone else is lying, or to throw suspicion on someone else.)

When the Cleaners set their best wetworks agent on his case, can Linden convince Evelyn not to kill him?

Supporting Role in: The Waiting Room (De La Croix)

Aspect: The wrong place at the wrong time.

Invoke:
To be in a particular place at a particular time. Bonuses to aiming at someone.
Compel:
The wrong place at the wrong time (standing over a body holding a gun as the police show up).
Tag:
Bonus to someone else aiming at her. Penalty for establishing alibis.

When Evelyn finds herself trapped in the Waiting Room, can she survive its horrors long enough to join forces with some unlikely allies?