Dead in the Darc - Emergency! Paging Doctor Darc!

Jane Darc, a mid-twenty something serial nerd, roleplayer, avid sci-fi and murder mystery fan, is dead. And yet lives. In a city like Paragon, this tends to mean she's out for your brains. She isn't. She'll joke about it, of course. She'll joke about anything. To someone who's dead, that's all life is, and death hasn't improved her weird sense of humor, lack of tact or removed the influences of Howard Stern and other shock jocks.

Despite those faults, she's a fun girl to be around. The 'unlife of the party', as she calls herself. And quite attractive for a cadaver. If you like pale skin and the smell of embalming fluid at times, that is. Mid-length black hair, black rimmed glasses and averagely proportioned.

What does Jane do though? As she describes herself, she is a detective, paranormal investigator ('I'm like Scully, just dead, and minus Mulder... damn."), and 'Mediator for the Living Impaired', as she calls her job title. Others would just call her a medium. Or nuts. More often than not, both. Having taken over for the now deceased Madame Midknight in her role as hero and magical girl, minus the sailor scout uniform. And trouble just seems to fall into her lap.

Saturday Night, August 19th - Kings Row.

"You know, SNL's just not been the same since Phil Hartman died..." Jane moaned as she reclined in her somewhat battered sofa chair, kindly rescued by her from the side of the road. Much like the rest of her flat, bits taken from here and there, from dumps to skips to abandoned stores.

"Then why watch it?" The small black cat sitting on her lap asked, pausing her grooming and looking a little silly in that position. Aside from the fact that the cat was talking, there wasn't that much else to distinguish her between any other normal house cat.

"Because there's not that much else on to watch, Rheu. It's an hour till the DS9 reruns on Sci-Fi, and Fox is showing all those sucky season one episodes of the Simpsons." she replied, taking a handful of popcorn from the bowl besides her and cramming it into her mouth.

"Celinda would put the Animal Planet channel on for me, or History Channel." Rheu said with a hopeful glance, putting on her best 'Adorable Kitten' expression. She usually could do this with devastating effect, but today, she clearly 'failed her charisma check' as Jane liked to quip.

"I'm not Celinda though, and I'm not putting on Big Cat Diary just so you can drool all over the tigers and lions." she teased, ruffling Rheu's fur up. With a hiss, Rheu scurried off her lap to a corner of the dark flat, illuminated only by the TV screen, to groom her fur back into place, giving her latest owner a dark glare.

"I have FINISHED my TASK." a rumble came from the corner of the room, the ground shaking a little as the eight foot tall suit of armour headed over, with... an iron in one hand? If Warforge could care, it would probably have found this a bit demeaning. Of course, it performed chores for its previous owner, Madame Celinda; the famed agony aunt, medium, horoscopist and, to put it plainly, witch, but ironing?

Jane gave a thumbs up. "Excellent, you're a star, Warforge! Go... umm... do whatever it is you do, then." she said, before turning back to the latest skit on Saturday Night Live. Rheu gave the suit of armour a long-suffering stare before curling up to doze. Warforge stood there for a moment, before speaking. "Boy."

"Hmm?" Jane asked.

"Boy." Warforge repeated.

"Warforge, what are you talking about? I'd get up to look, but... stupid rigor mortis." Jane moaned, trying to twist about.

"There's a boy... well, a ghost of a boy standing in the door to the living room." Rheu said, her eyes glowing a soft amber.

"Rheu, look boy. What do I see?" she said, with a little laugh at her own reference.

"Blonde hair, blue eyes, about six years old. Hospital gown"

"Oh god, it's the ghost of Macaulay Culkin, come to extract revenge for me pirating Home Alone 1 and 2?" Jane gasped, rolling to hide behind the sofa back.

"He isn't dead." Rheu purred, moving closer on silent paws to look at the boy.

"You seen his career lately? I have more life than that." Jane grinned, before scrambling up to look at the mysterious boy, her back in a somewhat painful position due to its current rigidity. The boy had short, curly blonde hair, and was currently floating an inch off the ground, his form flickering between being more apparent and more faint. "Help me..." the boy said in a soft, pleading voice.

"Sure thing kid, what's the 411?" Jane said, stretching out a little as she adjusted her position. "Let's start with name first, and why you're here."

"I'm Tommy... and I saw you on TV..." the boy said, shivering a little as his form flickered and faded.

"I see... and you came for an autograph? My ghost-pen is broken at the moment, sorry."

"No, there is a man! A bad man, he is hurting me and others!"

"Where is this bad man, and what is he doing to hurt you?"

"He... makes us sleep and takes... parts of us, our blood..." Tommy said, looking scared. "He is coming back! Please, get to the hospital!" he begged before vanishing.

Jane glanced at Rheu. "Sounds like a pro bono case." she sighed.

Rheu rolled her eyes as she licked her paw. "So? Get some pants on and get over to the hospital and find out what's happening." she said with a resigned voice.

"Hey, my pants are only off because watching TV in leather isn't that comfy!" Jane grumbled, stumping about a little as she worked the stiffness in her hips off, before starting to pull on the pair of purple leather pants she had bought, then the matching jacket. "Where's my hat?"

Glancing about, Rheu picked the purple duster up between her teeth and leapt towards Jane, dropping it besides her. With a grin, Jane stuck the hat on, and held her arm out. Rheu clambered up her arm to rest over he shoulder. "Alright, Hospital Mortuary coming up!" Jane said, before looking at Warforge. "Keep an eye on the place while we're gone." she waved, before the woman and cat disappeared in a somewhat coffin-shaped portal of purple and black swirling energy.

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... Wow!!!

I REALLY loved that Z!! About time we got some fiction of GG's resident dead girl!

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@FloatingFatMan

Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

[ QUOTE ]
"I'm not Celinda though, and I'm not putting on Big Cat Diary just so you can drool all over the tigers and lions."

[/ QUOTE ]

*sniggers*

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That was pretty damn good... nice work .

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