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HH is perceptive like that.
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Silver Aegis adds a bit that got left off in his editing

Subj: Is there possibly a clue in the title as to who is behind all this?
Posted: Mon Jan 19, 2009 at 11:19:24 am EST
Reply Subj: Silver Aegis #8 “The Trail of the Ü-Wolf!”
Posted: Sun Jan 11, 2009 at 08:55:46 pm EST (Viewed 7 times)



>
Silver Aegis #8 “The Trail of the Ü-Wolf!”

>

> Read Issue Six and Issue Seven (excuse the faulty HTML) first.
>
> Scott Scoggins rode his 1942 Harley-Davidson WLA towards the gypsy camp. At first, he made excellent time, but as he travelled further away from Chaney Shores the road became less tended and thus, a rougher ride. When he spied the turn off Scott was surprised to learn it was not even paved.
>
> “For a place that relies so much on the tourism trade the people sure make it hard to get from one place to another sometimes,” he mused, thinking back to the difficulties he had had at the hotel getting directions, “Then again, maybe I shouldn’t be so shocked: Romani culture is often viewed with distrust by the rest of society.”
>
> The surrounding forest grew darker around Scott. The oaks here were tall and thick, and long vines of ivy crisscrossed their moss dabbled trunks and drooped from their branches as lush, green veils. What meager light the late afternoon sun offered was soon blocked out by the canopy of branches.
> “Just a few hours earlier, I was enjoying clam fritters and a frozen lemonade while strolling the Chaney Shores boardwalk. Now, I might as well be in another world.”
>
> And discovering the gypsy’s encampment added to that perception. Brightly painted wagons encircled the clearing, the field inside dotted with tents and lean-tos. There was a row of closed kiosks on one end, a paddock on the other. The largest structure was a single story barn with loft, and while Scott’s ears and nose alerted him to the presence of livestock, it was obvious there weren’t enough beasts of burden to pull the caravan. The people living here had done so for quite some time, and didn’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon.
>
> The road ended in gravel covered plot that could have been used for parking. Several young men loitered there, some of them smoking. All of them warily eyed the fit stranger in the leather jacket as he coasted his motorcycle in and stopped.
>
> “Good evening,” Scott said as he removed his half helmet and tucked it under his arm. He pulled his goggles down so they hung around his neck.
>
> No one spoke to him, but one of the boys muttered something unintelligible. The others snickered.
>
> “I beg your pardon? I’m afraid I didn’t catch that.”
>
> The oldest, a long-limbed fellow in jeans, a white shirt, and leather vest answered, “Usim said he thinks he can see reflection in your hair.”
>
> Scott grimaced. One of the belated side-effects of being pulled from the other-dimensional oblivion of the Plot Hole to this world had been the silvering of his hair. Dr. Drang had assured him the transformation had no ill-effects on his health, and while that may be true he couldn’t say the same about his dignity.
>
> “Ignore Usin. He has no manners. No respect for old people,” the speaker turned and cuffed Usim on the side of the head before chiding him, “What is wrong with you, Usim? Making fun of poor lost man.”
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> “I’m not lost.”
>
> “Then why are you here? The circus is closed.”
>
> “Boyan, he was there this morning at the beach,” another boy spoke up, “He argued with the sherrif.”
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> “That’s right. And you were there too. I thought I recognized you. My name is Scott Scoggins,” he offered his hand.
>
> Boyan gave it a look that would make one think it was crawling with maggots, “You still haven’t answered my question.”
>
> Inwardly Scott sighed, “I knew gypsies were suspicious of outsiders, which was why I didn’t come in costume. For many the Silver Aegis was a hero and a champion to the downtrodden, but this crowd would probably see him as a stranger hiding behind a mask.”
>
> “I came to offer my sympathies for your group’s loss, and to offer my help.”
>
> Usin stepped forward, “You lie! You’re here to make us leave, like- ACK!”
>
> SMACK! Boyan struck his young compatriot a good deal harder this second time, and ordered him silent, “And you can help us how?” he asked Scott good-naturedly.
>
> “I have had experience dealing with situations like you are the rest of your clan is facing.”
>
> The group was silent, so Scott clarified.
>
> “And by situation I mean curses. And monsters. I’ve stopped both in my time, and would like to help you with yours.”
>
> “Emil,” Boyan said to the chubby boy who had recognized Scott from the murder scene, “Run and tell King Rajko we are bringing a guest to the camp. Tell him he wants to help the Stavrosos Clan with our…. situation.”
>
> Scott was brought to the middle of the camp. Some of the homes were lit, others not. Lanterns hung from posts along the path they walked, providing illumination. Out of the corner of his eye Scott could see people coming to their cottage windows or pulling back the flaps to their tents to watch him pass. At one cabin his escort halted.
>
> “The girl who was killed; Chavi, her family lives here,” Boyan said quietly, “Rajko is inside with Father Jean, offering comfort.”
>
> The door to the home swung open, and a man strode out. He was older, but powerfully built. He wore an open silk shirt that exposed his smooth torso and loose fitting jodhpurs over riding boots. His scalp was as bare as his chest, and his eyes blazed with an intensity that rivaled the torchlight. When he spoke it was in a deep, commanding baritone.
>
> “I am Rajko Stavrosos. Who are you, and what is your business here?”
>
> Scott stepped forward, “My name is Scott Scoggins. I met some of your people earlier today at Chaney Shores, where the girl’s body was found. And since the local law enforcement didn’t seem particularly helpful, I came to offer mine.”
>
> Rajko was unimpressed, “You are just one man, and an outsider at that. What makes you think you can stop we Stavrososes cannot, and have not for centuries?”
>
> “I’m… well-travelled. And I have certain connections that may be of assistance.”
>
> “Your words are chosen to be deceptive, and your meaning is unclear. If you continue with your riddles you are of no interest to me,” Rajko waved at him dismissively and turned to go back inside.
>
> Scott walked up onto the cottage’s tiny porch and put himself in Rajko’s personal space. Leaning forward, he softly said, “I’m a superhero with close to twenty years experience in fighting every kind of crazy evil thing you could think of, from Aztec mummies to Zoroastrian spirits. I think something somewhere in-between is what’s troubling your people, and I have the skills to stop it. If you let me.”
>
> Rajko’s eyes narrowed briefly before he threw his head back and laughed, “Ha! Ha! You are a very bold man, Scott Scoggins. But, you may also be mad.”
>
> “Only one way to find out for sure.”
>
> “Yes,” the gypsy stroked his chin thoughtfully, “but not the one you may expect.”
>





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