An hour ahead of L.A., Grace knows the drill by now. It's better to call the Euthanatos Adept in the afternoon if she hopes to get ahold of him. He will not answer his phone if he is turning the Wheel. Administering a Good Death. What have you. This is not one of those times. When she calls, he answers.
"Grace!" Thank you Modern Age and your life-changing caller ID technology. "How are you?"
Grace
The voice on the other line sounds tired. There's more than one way of being tired, really. You can overwork, under sleep, or just be tired of this shit. With Grace right now, it's mostly the third.
"I'll be a lot better once I clean up this mess I found," she says. "But hey, how are you?"
Michael
A small pause in between her question and his answer. She knows what that pause means.
"I'm well. What mess?"
Grace
"I was out doing my thing, and I ran across a myth of the dark net. People say it happens, but nobody can find proof, you know. I did.
"I found a red room. A streaming video site where you can pay to... Suggest things to do to a captive. And they do it. It's a snuff porn thing, basically."
There is a sighing quality to her tone. This is what people sometimes do with the pure freedom that encryption brings. She has a duty as a champion of freedom to ensure that people don't use it to become petty kings over a fief of torturers.
Michael
A thousand miles away, Michael stands from his desk and walks to the plate-glass window looking out over downtown Los Angeles. Shucks back a panel of his suit jacket and hooks his free hand on his hip. Looking out helps him focus his thoughts while Grace explains the mess.
"Finding proof of myths' existence is rarely pleasant," he says. Commiseration, sounds like. Then, "Where is this red room located?"
Grace
"That's part of what I'm trying to figure out right now. I think maybe somewhere in Montana. But first things first right? It gets messier.
"The video I found was of a woman being tortured, but she escaped. She Awakened. The lights went out, and when they came back, she was gone.
"Her boyfriend is this amazing hacker, but he's a Sleeper, and didn't know what he was looking at when he saw it, which of course he did. Started asking questions and trying to get revenge. And then, there was Lydia.
"I found her in Colorado Springs. She's safe, at least. Being taken care of by one of your people."
Michael
"Which person?"
Grace
"Angela Avella was the name she gave me," Grace says, knowing that among their kind, names are rather mutable.
Michael
"Angela..."
Musing. Sifting through the ashes of his recollection to find the face to whom it belongs. This doesn't take long.
"Angela Avella. Does she still do her crossword puzzles with a pen?" That's an easy enough question to answer and the answer isn't important. He does know Angela though. Knows her enough to ask, "Does Angela intend to take on Lydia as an apprentice?"
Grace
"I don't know. At the moment, it just seems like she's taken her in because she's a scared, freshly Awakened person who has no idea what's happened to her yet. Maybe?
"Angela does kind of seem like the kind of person to do her crossword puzzles in pen though. Seems like a good woman for the job."
Michael
Nothing she has said yet has given him the impression that she cannot handle the problem. It is a nagging problem and it is one that could become difficult to solve with too much attention paid to it. She can hear him weighing his options in the scant silence that follows.
"What can I do to help?" is what he comes up with.
Grace
"With the technology side of things, not much. I'm going to try to make the internet forget that that video exists, which will be... Difficult.
"But other than that, there's still a lot of real-life shit going on here. I got the info on a guy who was kicked out of the business for being too gross even for them. Wanted to branch out into new markets, specifically little kids. He runs a Christian charity in Thailand, or so his card says.
"Also, I'm pretty sure their IT support for this whole shit show is a minor. Probably someone's kid who's been press-ganged into helping with the family business. He'll need... Help. Not to mention all the people they've kidnapped.
"It is a colossal mess, Mike. I'm glad for any help, really."
Michael
"Of course. I'll do what I can."
To that end:
"Does the the fellow running the charity in Thailand have a name or an address on his card?"
Grace
"Oh, yes. He goes by Doc Brad, but the name's really Bradley Olliver. Docbrad@internationalcharitiesinc.org."
She knows, even before she's said the words, that she's probably signing a man's death warrant. But there's no hesitation. They're on the same page here.
She gives him the phone number too, and later on, he'll get some encrypted email with all the messages and forum posts that show the man to be, yes, just as she said.
Michael
Scribble scribble scribble.
"Alright," he says with a jovialness that belies the severity of the solution she knows he's come up with. A final scribble, and then: "I'd like to take you out to dinner after I meet with Mister Olliver, if you would be amenable."
Grace
"Oh!" she says, with a lightheartedness that he hasn't heard in her voice since the start of their conversation. "I'd love that."
There's a breathy sigh on the other end, and then: "Gives me something to look forward to in all this."
Michael
"I find it helpful to have something to look forward to in times of stress."
Like when he's about to board an airplane to interrogate and kill a monster.
"I'll call you when I'm on my way to Denver. In the meantime, be safe. We'll find the red room."
Grace
"I know we will," she says. "I adore you, you know that, right?"
Michael
"I know." I adore you too, he says without saying. "We'll address that after dinner."
So smooth, Michael. So smooth.
Grace
She huffs a low-toned laugh into the phone, and then: "Address it good and proper, huh?"
Not quite as smooth as he. Never was, really.
"I'll be waiting for your call, then."
Michael
"You won't have to wait too long." Because he is literally packing up his briefcase and headed to the airport right now. One of the perks of having a Euthanatos on speed dial. "Be good, Grace."
And off he goes.
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