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It was just after five but the last of Sasha's reports had already found their way to her boss's desk. There were still a number of calls to be made, but the bulk of her work was done for the night. She leaned back in her chair, kicked her feet up on the desk and picked up the phone.
Brandon, Sasha's husband, stood waiting in the doorway.
"You know, Sash, you don't really have to do everything in one night."
"Oh, please! You're on hold."
"Do I bother you when you're at work?"
He could think of a number of times in the last month, alone
Sasha kept various photos and trinkets on her bookcase. These were the odd bits and bobs that reminded her of home and made her office more then just a place of business. As Brandon's eyes drifted over them, his attention settled on a picture from last Halloween Night.
The community had set up all sorts of spooky attractions and Sasha had convinced him to pose for a photo with his paws locked in stocks and his arms chained above his head
Flashpoint: Chapter 8Interview E. Grant
Saturday, June 11, 2011, Central Police Station
Oliver Strom, Stage Crew Manager
Mr. Strom, the court has ordered you to provide us with a usable set of finger prints which will be used in comparison with those we obtained during out investigation. While we are waiting for the results of said comparison, I would like to take this time to ask you a few more questions. At this time, you are not under arrest and would be responding under your own free will. Do you understand?
Mr. Strom, why did you lie to us about the surveillance tapes? Spencer never received them from you and we have no reason to doubt this as his story has been confirmed by the victim, herself.
"I I don't know "
All right, well can you tell me why you gave free tickets to the Fox Brothers?
"How do you know about that?"
It's my job to know.
"I wanted to reward such loyal fans "
Don't lie to me! I know they abducted your niece!
"But Dona's the one who asked me to! Sh
Her CatalystAs she walks through the maelstrom, the words trace upon the tips of her fingers and press into the stone. Every brick, every crack in the concrete, every crossed and angular stroke in reds and blacks and oranges. The drips of the gasoline pool around the base of her boots, slosh as she steps over the burst pipes and the rubble.
So much rubble. So little outcry. The silence of the city grates on her eardrums and the mantras she'd been forced to memorize. The Seers demanded they observe thirteen years of recitation before they attempt to weave their first World together.
But who other than the Seers can claim the incantations that knot the skeins they twist and pull on like reins hold fast? When have any of the Sisters recorded the visions they traced upon space-time and recited them, left them open for critique and discussion and debate?
Which is why she walks through the chalky soot of the smashed city around her. This all
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More