Spes Magna Games

Before we get to the meat of this post, a few announcements.

Most significantly, I’ve resigned from my teaching position. Why? Here’s the short version: The hours I had to work to stay caught up with all the administrative and teaching duties caused sufficient stress that my health suffered. The most bothersome signs were the almost-daily migraines and the hypertension-levels of blood pressure. I’m not a young man any more, and the one heart attack I’ve had was one too many. Of course, I’m not pleased with having to leave before the end of the school year, but the prospect of two months more of pain, dizziness, et cetera, was too daunting.

So, for the third time since June 1985, I’m unemployed, but I’m confident that, just like those other times, this too is a temporary setback. In the meanwhile, I’m planning on staying busy. Yesterday, for example, I drove my wife Katrina to work, ran some errands with my son Christopher, did some chores around the house, cooked dinner, and so far today, I’ve prepared biscuits and sausage gravy for breakfast and typed this post.

Later today, I’ll attend daily Mass at Our Lady of Walsingham, do a few more chores, probably go with Katrina to the gym after she gets done with work for the day, and try to get caught up on a few writing projects, first of them being Dangerous Monsters 3.

And, the last announcement: My son Christopher has a part in a university stage production of Pride and Prejudice, and rehearsal this Saturday takes him out of the DM chair for our ongoing 5E D&D adventures in and around The Village of Hommlet. The rest of us plan on gaming. I’ll be running Save Innsmouth: A Student Documentary for The Cthulhu Hack, doing it in a style somewhere between Memento and Friday the 13th.

And now for some proper gaming content!

Do you like the radio dramas of the early decades of the 20th century? Have you dreamt of a roleplaying game designed to emulate the radio drama genre? If so, then you owe it to yourself to checkout On the Air by Spectrum Games, which can purchased for a mere $4.95 from DriveThruRPG.

I had three players: Christopher, Terry, and new guy Leroy (which makes him the first actual Leroy I remember ever meeting). On the Air (or OtA hereafter) instructs the Director (read: gamemaster) to design a series, complete with a sponsor, a small cast of primary characters (PC), and however many supporting characters (SC), recurring or not, that fit the narrative. I completed the all of the above except for the SC, which we more or less made up on the fly during the game. You can admire my game prep and in-game notes in the pic below.

The series was Uncanny Worlds, sponsored by Estrella Coffee, and the episode title was “The Flying Jungle of Bellatrix”. The main cast of characters was Captain James Augustus Church, Lieutenant Commander Doctor Lana “Brains” MacAvoy, and Technology and Science Android XJ14 (TASA, for short). You can see the PCs here. Christopher played “Brains”, Terry played TASA, and Leroy played Captain Church.

The set-up introduced the episode by title, plugged the sponsor, and then described how the shuttlecraft from Space Exploration Teams Incorporated space rocket Ambition descended into Bellatrix’s atmosphere, heading to the largest of the famed flying jungles in a search for valuable deposits of floatanium, a rare anti-gravity element essential to space travel. Just as Shuttlecraft Navigator Trotsky announced, “Land ho, Captain!”, the shuttlecraft’s klaxon blared. A monstrous pteradon roared out of the clouds, claws extended, intending to prey on the shuttlecraft.

Which brings us to OtA‘s central mechanic: the Intention.

The players decided that they wanted to evade the pteradon while firing blasters out a porthole as the shuttlecraft came in for a safe landing on the flying jungle. In a traditional RPG, this would most likely be played out round-to-round, involving various skill checks and attack rolls. Not so with OtA. With the Intention system, what’s important isn’t the journey, but the destination. Everything is resolved with a single roll of the dice, and the results are narrated radio-drama style.

If you looked at the characters, you noticed they have three ability scores: Adventure, Thought, and Drama. Each score is rated, usually between -1 and 2 (but rules do include the possibility for higher ratings for super-heroics). Here’s where we hit our first foggy area in the rules, which seem to written based on the assumption of one Director and one PC.

The PC with the Intention figures out his total score based on the appropriate trait, perhaps tagging a Descriptor (such as Church’s “Former Space Soldier”). The total score may be adjusted by the opposition of an SC (such as the pteradon, which I arbitrarily decided was SC 3). Since multiple players described how their characters helped, I allowed multiple ability scores to determine the group’s total, and then reduced that total by 3 to reflect the difficulty of the encounter. One player then rolled the number of dice as shown on the “How Many Dice Do I Roll and What Do I Keep?” table. The total, which may be adjusted by Airwave Tokens (more on these later), is checked against the “Intention Results Table” to determine what happens.

An episode (read: adventure) has a time limit, which is defined by a certain number of Intentions. Since our series Uncanny Worlds has a broadcast time of 30 minutes, the episode is limited to 10 Intentions, which means the players get to roll the dice 10 times during the course of the game. Once all 10 Intentions have been used, the episodes ends, perhaps in a cliffhanger (as happened in our game session). Keep in mind that the 30 minute broadcast time is a narrative fiction; it’s not the length of the game session itself, which for us ran to about 4 hours with quite a lot of hemming and hawing and goofing off.

The “Intention Results Table” will be very familiar to anyone whose played Dungeon World or other games Powered by the Apocalypse. A 2-6 total results in a failure, which is narrated by the Director; a 7-9 means the player chooses between a Controlled Failure (narrated by the player) or a Conditional Success (narrated by the Director); and a 10+ is a Success narrated by the player.

(Nota Bene: The pulp-style cover to the right was made using Pulp-O-Mizer.)

Which brings us to narrating the game. Since OtA emulates radio dramas, everything must be described as if the game had an actual audience of people who can only hear what is happening. This includes the players and Director making appropriate sound effects. OtA has many paragraphs of advice on how to do this, and, at least for our group, it was easier to read about and explain than actually do. We’re programmed for traditional RPGs, where the audience isn’t an imaginary construct listening to the players through a radio, but rather is just the people actually in the room. Several times, we had to remind each other to explain how, say, certain hand gestures or facial expressions would be conveyed to people who couldn’t see them.

Our narrations included using Airwave Tokens to edit the scene, repeated endorsements of Estrella Coffee (almost always delivered in character as part of the episode’s dialogue), and one station break to directly advertise Estrella Coffee (the latter activity earning a Sponsorship Token). Airwave Tokens are like action points or hero points common to many games. They are earned when the Director tags a character flaw, for making sound effects (once per scene), or for being clever and/or true to the genre. Players start with two Airwave Tokens, they’re easy to earn, and the players spent theirs freely for scene editing, power tagging, and boosting.

If a character has a relevant Descriptor to include with an intention, one die in the dice pool gets upgraded to a d8. A tagged flaw reduces one die to a d4. With power tagging, one more die gets upgraded to a d8. The Sponsorship Token was earned for roleplaying the advertising segment, which highlighted the virtues of Estrella Coffee by the primary characters and included the main antagonist saying Estrella Coffee’s noble flavor offended his evil palate. A Sponsorship Token can be earned only once per episode. The rules appear somewhat vague to me about which player, if any, “owns” the Sponsorship Token. We treated it as a group resource. At the end of the episode, Christopher used the Sponsorship Token for an automatic success to save Captain Church.

During the episode, the PCs formed an alliance with the Jaguar Men of Bellatrix to oppose the nefarious forces of Ying the Heartless from the planet Thongu. Ying’s soldiers had enslaved many Jaguar Men, forcing them to work in the floatanium mines. There was trouble with a T-Rex, whose floatanium-infused scales made it remarkably agile. Captain Church and TASA were captured and sent to the mines after a daring attempt to escape by riding swiftly on boaboa birds, a noble effort thwarted by a hypno-cannon. “Brains” was also captured, and taken to the tent of the Thongu captain, who later was revealed to be Captain Church’s long-lost brother Gregory. There were thrilling escapes accomplished by digging through the bottom of the floating island while “Brains” drugged Gregory and used the shuttlecraft to rendezvous with Church, TASA, and many Jaguar Men in the sky beneath the flying jungle.

At this time, the Jaguar Man leader revealed that the Thongu soldiers had a sonic transducer set up to transmit the “heart of floatanium” that enabled the jungle to fly. TASA and “Brains” lead Jaguar Men into the mine to face the giant crab monster guarding the sonic transducer while Church engaged his treacherous brother in single combat. TASA used the sonic transducer to teleport the giant crab to Thongu, but not without TASA being transported as well. Church lost to his brother, but the intervention of the Sponsorship Token changed the narration so that Trotsky came roaring in on the shuttlecraft with Jaguar Men reinforcements from another village, thus saving the day.

The episode ended with a cliffhanger as TASA and the giant crab appeared in the sonic transducer reception chamber within the palace of Ying the Heartless on distant Thongu.

Throughout the episode, there were lots of sound effects, repeated dialogue singing the virtues of Estrella Coffee, and plenty of ham and cheese in the form of overacting and punny quips. We even had a recurring subplot about supporting character Security Lieutenant Wilson’s unrequited love for “Brains” remaining unrequited despite his best efforts to win over the good doctor.

All in all, OtA was great fun. It is rules light, and all of the rules are aimed at emulating the radio drama genre. The only other genre-emulation game published by Spectrum Games I’ve played is Cartoon Action Hour, which is also great fun. I don’t see OtA becoming our main game, but I definitely want to play it again.

Tags: On the Air, reviews, Spes Magna Products, The Cthulhu Hack

Just over a half hour later, Jared stood in shadow against the wall around Jones’s property. Jared checked the time on his phone. It was nearly midnight. The street in both directions was clear as far as he could see. It was very unlikely anyone home across the street would be able to see him over their properties’ walls.

Jared pulled on his gloves. He took a few steps away from the wall and then ran, jumped, caught two of the projecting fleur-de-lis atop the wall, and then vaulted up and over. Jared landed in a crouch, almost entirely concealed from view from the house by a tree and adjacent bushes. He waited, counting off the seconds.

Two minutes passed before he moved. Jones’s house was quiet. The yard lights were on. So too was the porch light. The soft glow through downstairs and upstairs windows showed that hall lights had been left on, but the other windows were dark.

He pulled the Ziploc baggie from his jacket pocket. He opened it, and then pulled off a glove with his teeth. Carefully, with forefinger and thumb, he pulled a hair some of the way from the baggie. The cool night air filled with the scent of flowers. She stood nearby, still nude, still marred by the violence that caused her death.

Jared whispered, “It’s time. I need you to shut off the alarm and unlock the door.”

“That won’t be easy,” she said.

“The code is star, four, zero, six, three, zero, star. Repeat it.”

She did, and added, “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“You can. Focus on what he did to you. Focus on your pain, your fear.”

She looked down. Tears dropped from her yellowed eyes, but they vanished before they touched the ground.

“You’re almost done, Sharon,” Jared said, looking away from her grief. “After tonight, you can rest.”

The restless spirit of the murdered young lady nodded. She walked across the lawn, visible only to Jared. She cast no shadows. She had no motion that sensors could detect. The front door was no obstacle to her. She passed through it as easily as the night breeze passed through the tree branches. A few short minutes later, she passed back through the door, stood on the porch, and waved. Jared sprinted from the wall, across the lawn, up the few stairs between the columns onto the porch.

“Thank you,” he said, opening the door and stepping into the foyer. She followed as he closed the door. “Wait here.”

Sharon shook her head. “I have to see what happens.”

Jared sighed. The muscles in his shoulders and neck tensed. The headache would follow soon. A chandelier, set to its lowest setting, cast soft yellow light over the foyer. Almost silently, Jared walked across the oak hardwood floor to the circular rug underneath a round table. A crystal vase atop the table held fresh orchids. Jared set the vase on the floor, moved the table to the side, and sat down. Quietly, quickly, he stripped down to his briefs and then put his boots and gloves back on. He rolled the Ziploc baggie into a tight cylinder and slipped it into one boot. He unholstered the HK45CT and screwed the suppressor into place. He unsheathed the knife.

Jared climbed up the thickly carpeted, circular staircase to the second floor hall, the pistol in one hand, the knife in the other, walking past expensively framed photographs, most of them showing Jared in formal dress, hobnobbing with politicians, celebrities, and men and women of wealth and taste. Sharon was waiting for him. The light from the chandelier spilled up into the hallway, sending long shadows angling from floor to ceiling. A long rug ran the length of the hallway. The master bedroom door stood half open. The rug softened Jared’s footfalls.

Franklin Montgomery Allan Jones snored softly in his four-poster bed. Opposite the bed in front of the bay window looking out onto the balcony facing the backyard was a dark wood desk. A widescreen monitor attached to a laptop and speakers stood on the desk. Two high-backed, cushioned chairs flanked the desk. A golf bag full of clubs leaned against the wall behind one of the chairs. Built-in closets occupied the far wall. Next to them, French doors led to the balcony. In the far corner, an open door showed some of the master bath.

Sharon waited in the doorway. Jared crept around the bed. He set the pistol near the foot of the bed, shifted the knife into an icepick grip. Jared’s attack was quick. With his free hand, he grabbed Jones’s right wrist and shuffled backward, turning as he did so, jerking Jones from the bed onto the floor in front of the bathroom door. Bones in Jones’s wrist cracked. Jones cried out in pain and alarm. Instinctively, he curled into a ball to protect himself. Jared snatched the pistol from the bed and shot Jones through the left knee cap. Jones’s scream was much louder than the suppressed report of the firearm.

“Quiet!” Jared growled through clenched teeth.

Jones screamed again, and Jared lunged, landing across the older man’s chest, his knees pinning his arms to the floor. In his left hand, the knife slashed across Jones’s chin, opening a gash that bled profusely.

“I said, ‘Quiet’,” Jared repeated, aiming the point of the knife toward Jones’s right eye.

Jones choked back a third scream. All that remained of it was a strangled whimper. Jared could smell that Jones had soiled himself.

“I’m going to stand up,” Jared said. “If you attack me or try to escape, I’ll shoot you again. Nod if you understand me.”

Jones’s eyes, wide and glistening, looked up into Jared’s eyes. Jones had taken hundreds of depositions as a lawyer. He knew what a lie looked like. He knew what doubt looked like. He saw neither in Jared’s hard, arctic gaze. Jones nodded. When Jared stood up and backed away, the lawyer’s hands came up to his chin, came away covered in blood, then moved to his ruined knee.

“Wh-who are you?” Jones stuttered.

“Don’t talk. Listen. Nod if you understand me. Good.”

Jared jabbed the knife into the mattress, squatted, and pulled the rolled Ziploc baggie from his boot. Sharon stood at the foot of the bed. She was crying again.

“Tell him,” she said.

“I will,” Jared said. “He’ll know why before he dies.”

Jones gaped at the nearly naked man in his room. “Who are you–? Oh shit. You’re insane.”

Jared threw the baggie at Jones. It hit his chest, stuck to the blood that had poured from his chin.

“See that picture? That’s Sharon Washington. You killed her.”

Jones started trembling. He grabbed the baggie and tossed it away, recoiling from it.

“No!” Jones said, holding up his hands. “I didn’t! I –”

Jared shot Jones through the palm of the right hand. Jones screamed for several seconds before he regained a modicum of control. His breaths came in hard, huge gulps. The trembling increased. At the foot of the bed, Sharon turned away.

“You’re going into shock,” Jared said. “We don’t have time for lies. Where is Sharon’s necklace? Where’s the video? The truth, or I’ll use my knife on your face again.”

Through chattering teeth, in between sobs that convulsed his body, Jones said, “In the closet. There. There’s a safe.”

“Tell me the combination, Mr. Jones.”

A couple of minutes later, Jared crouched on the floor a few feet from Jones. He still held the pistol. On the floor in front of him was a silver chain with a pendant, a heart around a cross. An umarked CD in its case was next to the necklace.

“Do you know why I’m going to kill you?”

Jones nodded. He wept, a deep sobbing full of sorrow and fear.

“Close your eyes.”

Jones closed his eyes. Jared shot him once in the head and twice through the heart. He pulled the comforter from the bed and spread it over the body.

“You can look now.”

Sharon turned and looked at shape under the comforter. She smiled, but it was a sad smile. With a shaky hand, she pointed at the necklace still on the floor.

“You’re sister will get it,” Jared said. “I’ll mail it to her.”

“Will she be safe?”

Jared nodded. “There’s nothing to connect her to any of this.”

“Thank you,” Sharon said.

“You’re welcome.”

In between blinks of Jared’s eyes, Sharon vanished. The faintest scent of flowers lingered for a few more seconds. Jared sighed, closed his eyes, rolled his head in a circle, right shoulder to back to left shoulder, chin to chest. The headache had arrived in earnest.

He cleaned up in the shower, meticulously washing away the blood that had spattered on him from the knife work and close range pistol shots. He then wiped down the shower. He took the towel he used with him. Down the stairs, wet boots squishing, he put on his clothes. He had left the contents of the Ziploc baggie by Jones’s body. The baggie, wrapped around Jones’s toothbrush, was back in a jacket pocket. He tucked the CD and the necklace into the other pocket. He left the front door open. The housekeeper would arrive in a few hours. She’d discover the body and call the police.

Several minutes later, Jared was back behind the wheel of his car. The pain from the headache made spots swim before his eyes. He drove home, almost in a daze, the headlights of oncoming vehicles sending needles into his brain. He fell into a fitful sleep almost as soon as he flopped onto the sofa. Dreams full of blood and ghosts accompanied the drumbeat of pain in his skull.

Tags: fiction, Lilacs

I took 12 isometric dungeon maps that I’ve drawn and put them together as Map Collection I, which is now available at DriveThruRPG at the cost of 10 cents a map.

And now, a new monster for Swords & Wizardry!

Kobold spiders worship various horrifying demons that invariably take forms resembling monstrous arachnids. Rumor has it that Buibui, their chief deity, is a terrifying spider king that rules a hell full of twisting passages, vast webs, and shriveled corpses that scream constantly.

Kobold Spider
Armor Class: 7 [12]
Hit Dice: 1/2
Attacks: Claws/fangs (1d4) or weapon -1
Special: Arachnophilia, climbing
Move: 6
Save: 19
HDE/XP: 1/15

Kobold spiders, strange creatures that start their lives as evil dog-like men with hairless, scaly rust-brown skin. As mentioned above, they worship various horrifying demons that invariably take forms resembling monstrous arachnids. Rumor has it that Buibui, their chief deity, is a terrifying spider king that rules a hell full of twisting passages, vast webs, and shriveled corpses that scream constantly.

Kobold spiders that survive into adulthood often slowly mutate, taking on arachnid characteristics and becoming more powerful. For every 10 kobold spiders in an encounter, roll 1d3 times on Table: Early Kobold Spider Mutations to create an elite monster. A lair with 30 or more kobold spiders will be ruled by a chieftain. Roll 1d4 times on Table: Early Kobold Spider Mutations and once on Table: Chieftain Kobold Spider Mutations. Adjust HDE/XP of elite and chieftain kobold spiders appropriately.

Kobold spiders always have an affinity for arachnids. Such monsters never attack kobold spiders unless controlled. Otherwise, the monsters either ignore kobold spiders or attempt to flee. Kobold spiders cannot control arachnids, but they often live in close proximity to monstrous spiders. Kobold spiders are expert climbs, able to scurry up sheer surfaces and even across ceilings at normal speed.

Spider Swarm
Armor Class: 7 [12]
Hit Dice: 1-4
Attacks: Swarm (see below)
Special: Swarm (see below)
Move: 3
Save: 18 (1 HD); 17 (2 HD); 16 (3 HD), 15 (4 HD)
HDE/XP: 2/30 (1 HD); 3/60 (2 HD); 4/120 (3 HD), 5/240 (4 HD)

A spider swarm covers a number of 5×5-foot squares equal its Hit Dice. They do not make attack rolls. Any creature within the swarm automatically suffers 1d3-1 points of damage if armored, or 1d6-1 points of damage if unarmored. Once a victim has moved out of the area of a swarm, the victim continues to suffer damage for 1d3 rounds. If a victim wards off the spiders, he or she takes half damage (round down). A creature may ward off a swarm with swinging a weapon or similar object around, but most weapons cannot harm a swarm. A torch inflicts 1d6 points of damage on a swarm with a successful attack. A swarm is considered to be a single creature for the purposes of spell effects (such as Sleep).

Tags: monsters, Swords & Wizardry

A couple of posts ago, I mentioned Dangerous Monsters for 5E over on Patreon. Dangerous Monsters 3 is on track for release by Easter. Here’s a preview. Here’s another preview.

Did you know that most of what I write for Spes Magna Games gets published on this site and then that’s it? In many cases, this is because I’m writing monsters or villains for game systems for which one cannot publish. For example, check these posts related to AD&D.

If you’ve ever thought that it’d be nice to help support this site, please notice the addition of a tip jar in the sidebar to the left. One may choose to drop $1, $5, or $10 into the tip jar. PayPal processes the payments, which then helps me do things like buy groceries, pay for Internet access, et cetera.

And now for more fun with The Black Hack.

The hamlet of Blato has seen better times. Few residents remain. Most have abandoned their homes. With one exception, ruin has visited the surrounding farms, and the one remaining farm family fights a losing battle against the creeping blight that has devastated crops and livestock.

Blato’s end started when Eadgar Iarna, proprietor of the Brass Knave, decided to expand his basements. Workers broke through a layer of rock and plunged into flood caverns. The shift in pressure altered water levels, and ruined the hamlet’s well water. A few days later, the worms arrived, burrowing up through poorer residents’ hard-packed dirt floors in the dark of night. Nearly a dozen residents died screaming that night.

Between the contaminated well water, the deadly worms, and the altered water levels turning the streets and much of the immediate countryside into a sodden mess, the first typhus outbreak did not come as a surprise. Today, Blato is almost a ghost town. Eadgar remains, trying to eke out a living even as the Brass Knave slowly sinks into the muck. One farm family struggles to bring in a crop. A handful of others stubbornly refuse to leave. One of those who remains is a thief and possibly a murderer as well.

Giant Burrowing Worm
A thick as a man’s arm and twice as long, its smooth skin glistens with slime, its wedge-shaped head cracks open to reveal a jagged beak.

Hit Dice: 1
Damage: 1d4 (2)
Special: This horrid worm burrows through earth. It moves somewhere Close as part of an action at any stage of the move, or it can forgo its action and burrow somewhere Nearby. Its venomous bite forces a CON test to avoid paralysis. Make a new CON test at the end of each of your turns to recover.

Tags: monsters, places of power, The Black Hack

Franklin Montgomery Allan Jones. That was the target’s name. Jones, a partner at Felton Rankin, lived in a nine-thousand-plus square foot Georgian home. Three stories. Five bedrooms. Appraised at just over twelve million. Jones didn’t make that kind of money as an environmental lawyer, not even working for Felton Rankin. He had inherited most of his money. His father built the house in the 50s after making a fortune in real estate back when the city was booming.

Jared, dressed in shorts, T-shirt, and running shoes, slowed his jog as he passed Jones’s home. It sat near the center of a ninety-thousand square foot lot. Seven foot brick wall around the property. Wrought iron gates that could be opened by remote. Large trees, mostly Chinese elm, near the edges of the property. Open lawn after that, well lit at night and monitored by motion sensors.

The wall posed little obstacle. Jared estimated he could be over it no more than three or four seconds. The elms would provide concealment, and the neighborhood watch, provided by a private security firm, drove predictable routes. Jared could park on the business street adjacent to the subdivision, cut through the park. Avoiding detection would be easy enough, except for the motion sensors.

Jared stopped near the gates leading to the long drive up to the house. He squatted to retie his shoes. He stood, stretched his legs a bit, and then continued to jog, his thoughts turning over the problems. By the time he made it back to his car, Jared had worked up a light sweat, but his breathing was still regular. He checked his pulse. It was still under eighty. Behind the wheel of his car, he leaned his head back against the rest, closed his eyes.

“Wall poses no real obstacle. Up and over in a couple seconds. Low-crawl past the sensors unsafe,” he said. “Not enough time to move slowly enough. Grounds too well-lit. Target could spot me.”

Jared sighed, fished the large manila envelope from beneath the passenger-side seat. He flipped through the contents again.

“Target has private gym membership,” Jared continued. “Keeps regular times, but parking lot patrolled and monitored. Target’s office also too high profile. Target’s routes too and from offer few opportunities.”

He looked at the Ziploc baggie. Those long hairs. Jared sighed again.

“It’s a good thing the dead are restless.”

Jared turned the key in the ignition. He exited the parking lot near the start of the running trail, merged easily into traffic. A half hour later, he was in the shower. After that, dressed in comfortable sweats and shirtless, Jared settled onto the sofa. Puccini played softly. Butterfly defiant and doomed. Three fingers of whisky on the rocks sat on the end table.

Jared’s home was modest. One bedroom, one bath. A living room and combination kitchen dining room. Sparsely furnished, but comfortable. The most expensive items were his sound system and his liquor cabinet. No television. No computer. No photographs hanging on the walls. A large Van Gogh print hung on the wall facing the sofa. Whirling, dark colors around stars in the night sky. Jared’s eyes followed the lines of the print, tracing the rhythms of color, light, and darkness. He drained the whisky in three swallows, closed his eyes, and settled deeper into the cushions.

He awoke hours after sundown. It was time. Jared dressed in black. Khakis, long-sleeved T-shirt, a lightweight windbreaker, his jungle boots. In one jacket pocket, he carried a new Ziploc baggie with the hair and news article. The headline: Teen Still Missing. In the other jacket pocket, a suppressor for the HK45CT in a holster tucked into the waistband of his pants above his right buttock. On his other hip, Jared wore a sheathed trench knife with a six-inch blade. His phone, set to vibrate, was tucked into a pants pocket.

Before he left the house, Jared checked his equipment one more time. Everything was in its place. He took two Excedrin and exited, walking down the drive to his car. He listened to the weather report on the radio. Cloudy, light winds, no chance of rain. The night would be cool. Jared backed out of the drive, angled the car to the right. He tapped the CD button on the car stereo. The swelling, pulsing Introitus of Mozart’s Requiem in D Minor filled the car, and Jared drove to work.

Tags: fiction, Lilacs