aegirian_templar

The two of them walked out of Larkin's office after thanking the professor for his help. Twelve was walking with his face aimed squarely down at the book in his hands, and Simon had to step around him to prevent him from drifting into the path of a half-dozen college co-eds who were in the midst of changing classes.

He glanced at Mykal's half-hidden face, quickly studying the expression as the dark-skinned man leafed through the pages with seemingly careless abandon. He smiled. "Uh-huh. I thought I recognized the utterly hopeless look of a true bookworm. I've got two whole bookcases as big as I am crammed full of 'em at home. Granted, most of 'em are science fiction novels or history books, but still..."

He replaced and resealed his armored helmet, then dropped the blue visor down over the menacing-looking blood-red eye slits, making him somewhat less intimidating. His heads-up display blinked back to life, and a targeting reticle immediately showed him the most expedient way through the mingling crowd to the nearest exit. "So, where does the book suggest we go next?"

Simon waved a hand dismissively. "Ah, the hell do these university stiffs know. If there's one thing that history shows, its that the pariahs usually end up being proven right anyhow. Galileo...Einstein...Kepler..."

He grinned widely. "Besides, people like Mykal and I beat the crap out of Gestapo types for fun in our spare time now. Hell, I could put this ugly blue helmet back on and scare the crap out of any number of pompous windbags in this place right now, and they'd never be able to pin it on anybody."

Simon did something then that he rarely ever did - he removed his helmet. Tucking it under his left arm, he made a sweeping gesture at the door with his right.

"After you, illustrious leader."

He grinned at Mykal. "After all, you're the deeply-pocketed big-shot CEO, and I'm just a lowly part-time alumnist professor."

Simon grinned beside himself, though neither Mykal or Kura could see it beneath his helmet. During the day, he was Associate Professor of History Thorstengaard, and he got the sense of where Twelve was going. PCU's staff was eclectic, to say the least, and the history department was no exception. Fortunately for Simon, he was eclectic enough himself to get along very well with his fellow professors, even the ones who'd been teaching there for longer than he'd been alive.

Despite only having been there for just over a year, Simon had been able to dig enough to hear some rumblings about Mykal Tannan. Most of the professors didn't like him much, if at all - however, he knew of at least one eccentric old codger who had a fairly good opinion of him, and Simon was in fairly good with said old codger as well.

"Well, I can help there. I believe we have a friend in common over at PCU - Doctor Gabriel Larkin. Believe it or not, he's one of the few people in this city who knows about my...extracurricular activities...and he's a closet expert in more forms of history than anyone alive in the Eastern United States. What say we pay him a visit and see what he knows about our non-human Croatoans?"

"Heh. I'd be pleasantly surprised if you had; then you could tell me. As far as who and what they are, it'd be nice if we knew, frankly."

Simon took a deep, sighing breath. "Take my advice. Don't fight a war against an enemy you know nothing about if you can help it. You don't make a hell of a lot of progress killing subordinates by the hundreds while the enemy's general staff stays hidden somewhere pulling the strings and manages to outthink you fifty percent of the time."

The Templar nodded. "Always. Nemesis has been making a nuisance of himself lately - almost took over the whole Council before I stopped him."

He shook his head again. "With all these private army-wielding, world domination-obsessed megalomaniacs running around, I sometimes wonder if the Scourge is really the threat I should be worrying about."

A tall, armored figure strode into the room then. Totally encased in gleaming blue metal, the helmeted and visored man moved with the practiced ease of a medieval knight; yet despite the mass of metal he carried, there was little sound to be heard as his boots landed on the steel floor of the workshop.

The Aegirian Templar came to a stop at the foot of the monitoring platform and crossed his arms as he gazed up at Twelve. "Are you obsessing over the evils of magic again?"

He paused and cocked his head. "You know, you really shouldn't stare into that screen so intently that close. You'll have alot more trouble going over those quarterly expense reports if you mess up your eyes."