Paris Triste: Flights of Angels

Flights of Angels

Paris stands on the balcony of his new penthouse apartment looking down across the Potomac to the stark spire of the Washington monument and the glistening white dome of the capitol rising above the city. He stands marveling at how this upstart nation could have become the world's sole global superpower while the British Empire he remembers the sun never setting on is now only a distant memory. Almost as strange this is, he thinks, as the fact that this tiny device in his hands with no gears or discernable mechanized parts can not only tell time but also carry his voice around the world. Much can change in a hundred and fifty years, far more than he would have guessed. He is certain, however that if he had missed the hundred and fifty years prior it wouldn't have been as big a deal.

He leans on the railing and rubs his temples as his thoughts fly inexorably from the wonders of the modern era to the young woman who was supposed to have helped him come to grips with this era but who he had eventually destroyed just as he had the others prior to his great somnolence. It seems the pattern is inescapable: sooner or later he would always kill, and it would be better for him to die. If only he could go to the girl, to tell her how sorry he is, to help her cope and make amends for what he did to her in whatever way possible. But no, the guilt is too much to take, and besides, being close to her would only put her in danger at this point. Even if he could talk to the girl he could never make up for what he had done to her.

The only thing Paris can do for the girl now would be to find out who sent those men to Chicago that attacked him and ended up killing her brother. As he considers the idea Paris nods in silently assent to his own idea, then turns and heads back into the apartment. Moments later he emerges from the building and takes a cab to a nightclub in Adams Morgan. Black Magic, a club that caters to goths and people with a macabre taste seemed like the best place to start.

Aspect: Man out of time

And now Who can come up with a way to add their character into this story.'

Ben hears about Paris asking around at the nightclub. Ironically, finding the men Paris is looking for is incredibly fast: easy - for someone who knows how to use a smartphone as a research tool. He helps him because he believes in favors/networking (or because he owes a favor for Paris' supporting role in Ben's story?).

Ben Ferro's guest starring aspect: State of the art

When the older, eccentric wealthy Italian approached Paris, through the crowd of sweaty gyrating bodies that filled the club floor, claiming he overheard Paris’ queries and thought he might be able to help, Paris was more than a little dubious at first. However, the man’s easy-going mannerisms soon put Paris at ease. He introduced himself as Ben Meadows-Ferro, and Paris gave his name and shook the man’s hand.

The next thing Paris knows the two of them are sitting at a booth on the club’s upper level overlooking the dance floor, and Paris is giving Ben descriptions of the men he is looking for. Moments later Ben hands Paris some kind of small handheld device with a lit-up screen full of pictures. At Paris’ confused expression Ben explains he is looking at the facebook page for the bar, which regularly posts crowd pictures. Sifting through the extensive gallery takes some time but Paris eventually finds some pictures with strange, blurry forms dancing with other patrons. Most mortals would probably assume it was a trick of the light, but Paris knows better.

Paris points out the blurry form to Ben, “That has to be them,” he says. “But how does this help me find them?”

Ben smiles knowingly and taking back the phone uses a facial recognition ap to match up the pictures of some of the young people dancing with the vampiric blurs with pictures from the young womens’ profiles. Many of them turn out to be missing. One, though, seems to have ended up a local emergency clinic a few blocks away. Paris shakes the man’s hand gives him his number saying, in his proper English accent, “Thank you for the help. Give me a call if there is ever anything I can do in return. You seem an interesting bloke, it’s a pity I cannot stay longer. I do hope we shall meet again.”

((Still need another guest star, perhaps there is someone else with additional information, or someone who notices Paris strange behavior and follows him to see what he's up to.))