The camera of the Escapaque photographer was constantly in
action, as if the incident is part of the ceremony. Guests are screaming,
as blood soaks the dress of this unknown guest. Hiliary, as though
predicted the event, calmly walked off, taking with her the photographer,
to call the police. While Monique rushed to get hold of the crying Daniel,
Eric and Adam attended Cally, both still shocked by what is in front of
them.
<Models, Inc.> Role Play Episode 02
Never Ending Secrets
... The guests and friends are gathered outside the Church,
discussing the occurence with fear; not knowing what was happening. The
hitman is among them, showing his impatiency among the crowd, waiting for
something.
The door opened once again, with Hillary pushing out the
photographer and Grayson: "Grayson, if I were you I would start making
excuses for this shooting business."
Grayson, pushing the photographer away from Hillary, grabbed
Hillary's shoudlers and opened her eyes widely, while responded to
Hillary's invitation in the nicest possible way. "No, Hillary. You
should
start minding your own business, instead of stepping in my way. I swear,
if
you say anything against me your wedding dress would be red, instead of
white."
"I am sick and tired of your threats, Grayson", Hillary said firmly
while brushing off the unwelcomed hands of Grayson.
"This is not a threat, this is a promise." Walking away into the
crowd, away from Hillary, Grayson pronounces her words with a stare.
"Besides, Hillary, you can do nothing."
Grayson walks in the direction of the hitman, to be suddenly
interrupted by Ben. Grayson showed a surprised expression, while Ben pulled
her aside down the stairs to near the road.
"Grayson are you nuts? A shooting during a wedding?" Ben said.
"Shut up, Ben, and don't say another word." Spitted Grayson. "Say
anything to anyone, and I'll make sure you take the blame". She then
hurried off to the car park area, out of site from the direction of the
church.
While Grayson is walking towards her car, a hand grabs her by the
shoulder (with gloves), and she turned around calmly, apparently knowing
who it was. It was the hitman.
"We'll talk about this matter later, Jon." seemingly annoyed,
wanting to get away from the church as soon as possible.
"Hey, Grayson, I'm sorry." said Jonathan in a rather feminine
tone.
"I'm dissappointed but remember the deal's not finished yet. I'll
think of something else while you continue your task." Grayson said
while
entering her car.
"Anything you say, Grayson. Tonight, right?"
"Keep it to yourself, and don't get me into trouble."
Meanwhile a red car rushes into the car-park area, and the door opens.
"Grayson!"
Both Grayson and Jon were shocked and turned back...
Adam and Eric knelt beside Cally, the priest looking on
anxiously at the ashened face woman. They were helpless to the situation,
all they could do was keep the area clear of on lookers, but fortunally,
the presence of shooting has scared most of them away.
"Clear the way! Paramedics!" The two, a dark woman and a shaggy
haired man, carrying medical cases, rushed up to where the auburn woman
had fallen. Without a second word, they set to work. Adam had sense
enough to move, but Eric was pushed by the woman without effort.
The dark hair male had a stethscope out and tried to hear Cally's
heartbeat. "I can't get a pulse."
"Not surprising with a hit like that. Let's get these clothes
away." And with that, she reached down and ripped Cally's suit away.
And her hands dragged against something hard. "What the....",
she tore
further and stopped, stared. She glanced up at her assistant. "Get
her
ready to move, NOW!"
"But we haven't stabilized her or anything!"
"If she starts to die, we won't be able to do a damn thing about
it. We need to get her out of here now! Get the stretcher!" The man
bolted and
was away, back only a minute later with the attendants. As carefully as
they
could for their haste, Cally was placed on the stretcher and taken away.
Manuel Guerrio was a large man of heavy muscles and a heavy
tan. He was not a man to be messed with. From the creases in his face
which suggested several bare knuckle brawls, to the sinister look that
his expressionless face gave with its black bushy mustache, he gave the
impression of a bulldog just waiting to rip someone open.
But he wasn't likely to do that, considering where he was. Dressed
in a gray 3 piece suit, he was quietly enjoying his coffee after a fine
meal
at a exquisite, both in food and cost, restaurant. Enjoying, up to five
seconds ago when the waiter brought a phone to his table, and then retired
to wait.
Guerrio picked up the phone slowly. "Yes?"
"Medical alert bracelet 5176 has just been called in. Report to
Reston Medical Center immediately to contain the situation. Legal
representation will meet you there," a male voice on the other end
said
crisply.
"I understand," and the line clicked off before he even put down
the phone. Guerrio signaled the waiter who promptly responded. "Emergency,
I'm afraid, I must go." Placing several bills down on the table, he
continued, "This should cover all that is involved in the meal."
It was
not a question. Guerrio's mind was sharp and he had been keeping a tally
straight thru the meal. The waiter knew enough of Guerrio's reputation not
to question the payment, knew that he was good for it, knew that he would
return and therefore responded respectfully. "Good. Have a receipt
ready
for the next time I return." With that, Guerrio rose and departed.
In the waiting room, Hillary stared out the window at some distant
point. What a mess the afternoon had turn into and all the things of it
certainly did not make sense.
She had been able to escape the scene at the church, of police and
reporters, to come here to tend to her model. Julie and Sarah had managed
to escape with her, still in their bridesmaid outfits, but no one else
got out, no friendly anyhow.
And Cally was her model, despite what little she knew of her. The
Phantasy, Inc.. models had always been less observed, less in the open,
(and less trouble a small thought said), than those in its parent division
of Models, Inc.., but they were profitable. And Cally was no exception.
She was very legitimate, unlike the models that Grayson had hired, this
she
knew to be a fact.
Cally, her first name, but also her registered trade name, was
requested time and time again for fantasy shots, action episodes where
action was actually required. Of that subdivision, she brought in the most
money. Legal money. It was just that the subdivision seem to run itself,
so much that she couldn't even recall who the manager was, only that he
had been set up by the original finaciers, if it was indeed a man.
So, did Grayson want to kill Cally? It didn't make sense because
there was no why to it. Someone at the altar? Monique or Adam? Then why
charge altar? Because Daniel got in the way? Perhaps, but her son has been
used as a pawn before. But if, for some reason, Grayson wanted to off
Cally, and there were fincial concerns to that line of thought, that Cally's
death could generate sales without her death hurting business that much,
then a diversion at the altar would be workable. Who would have guessed
that
Cally would have intervened? And who would guess, (the small voice said),
that Daniel would take that moment to run free? Hillary closed her eyes
and shoot her head.
"Ms. Micheals?" She turned to a short, spetacled balding man in
green operating scrubs, sided by a tall, senior, uniformed police sergeant
with a penetrating look. Julie and Sarah looked up expectedly, slowly rising
to their feet.
"Yes," Hillary said quietly but levely.
"Can you explain why your model was wearing body armor?"
THE END OF RP.02 "Never Ending Secrets"
RP.02 Written by
*WhiteDog <lwdog@netspace.net.au> and
New storyline devised by Douglas Fairbanks, WhiteDog and
*Danielle Spence <DANIELLE_SPENCE@HP-PaloAlto-om4.om.hp.com>.
What would you like to see? Send in your storyline requests NOW to
<lwdog@netspace.net.au>.
Comments or suggestions to lwdog@netspace.net.au
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(R)1995 WhiteDog(TM) Production