Tesla's Earthquake Machine

Mr. Jones

He saw the girl coming a little bit before she spilled her coffee all over his suit. It was a little amusing; it'd been pretty clear this had been done on purpose.

The girl took a step back, eyes wide. The facade was almost perfect. "Oh, my. I ez so sorry monsieur. I happenz to be still a bit shaky from ze plane."

He gave her a charming smile. "Ne vous inquiétez pas, mademoiselle, je vais jeter ce costume de toute façon." A napkin took care of most of the coffee that hadn't soaked through the fabric. Tom watched her out the corner of his eye. What was she playing at? Her face tensed as the girl behind her snickered; obviously she was a bit on edge. Interesting...

"By ze way. I has herds of zis thing, et ez called a Telsa earthquake machine. Do youz, per chance, know whatz it might be?"

He adopted a guise of bemused puzzlement as the warning bells went off in his head. "No."

The girl only smiled and walked away.

He had to contact his superiors about this immediately. He waited a few minutes as he casually sponged off his shirt, then got out his phone.

"Hello? Yeah, I need to talk to Henderson about the pitch we're making next week in Versailles." That should get his message across.

Oscar.

"I has herds of zis thing, et ez called a Telsa earthquake machine. Do youz, per chance, know whatz it might be?"

Oscar jumped in his chair and flinched as his companions stared at him strangely. But he didn't care, not really. His thoughts, previously scattered, were now focusing in sharply onto the conversation behind him. But it had already finished, and the woman, who had alerted him with her sentence, was walking out of the shop. Oscar twisted around in his seat, trying to be unobtrusive, and caught the eyes of a serious looking, muscular man. He gulped slightly and swivelled back quickly, his mind whirring.

The Tesla earthquake machine. How odd, how amazing, that this woman was asking about it. The very thing that he, Oscar, wanted more than anything in the world. Well, that and a few more abdominal muscles.

"Oscar," Sylvia said, bringing him back to earth, "Are you ok?"

Mr. Jones

The man's eyes narrowed slightly at the slight movement in his peripheral vision. "Make that two Henderson." Pause. "Yeah, I know, sitting together and everything. I know the guy pretty well." He laughed a little as though Henderson had told him a joke. "Good one. Naw, everything's fine. How's the wife and kids? All good? Okay, I gotta go. Bye."

He hung up, satisfied. The other girl at the target's table he wasn't sure of (he made a mental note to see if they had her dossier compiled back at the office), but he knew the twitchy guy. Oscar Nesbit, age 24. Being so closely associated with Miss Black made him a person that needed to be watched, just like the young woman who'd left.

Mmm... hopefully they had been able to find some information on her. He had a feeling they'd be meeting up with each other again before long.

Ebony

I walked down the street looking down, trying to hide my blushing face. That poor man. It had been an accident. I sighed. Why couldn't anything ever work out for me. I was a trouble magnet.

I walked down the street, avoiding any dark alleys. I had had enough trouble in those. I shuttered as I remembered a mans fingers closing around my neck. But that was then, that was Paris, this is America. Home of the free and land of the brave.

I walked back to the edge of the street and summoned a taxi. I gave him my home address, and he drove me there. My dad was at the door, glad to welcome me back. We embraced quickly. Then I ran up to my room to start on the insane amount of homework I had. Being a senior at Rockville high wasn't exactly the easiest thing I have ever done.

But it wasn't the hardest ever. I had done worse. My cell buzzed. I put it to my ear.

"Bonjour!" I said.

"Bonjour, comment est ma petite amie douce?"My boyfriend, Marcello, asked. (Hello, how is my sweet girlfriend?)

"I am doing great." I said in french.

"I am glad," He continued, "Not getting yourself into any trouble?"

"None." I lied. He wouldn't know the difference, "but Algebra is calling. Bye."

"Bye." He said. I hated short conversations, but I had work to do.

Dainielle Druseu
She walked slowly, she was ready to grab her guns and shoot at anything that moved too fast. Her body posture showed nothing, but she was twitchy, very twitchy. For now the spirits that spoke to her were silent, they said Silvia had something that they wanted, in an odd way she felt like she needed it. Her goal was set, go befriend Silvia, she had the device. Chances were that Silvia kept it in a foolish place in her house, something easy to find, maybe under the couch. Ideally it wouldn't be in a safe, that would either require the big boomy sticks, or to befriend the Silvia, trick her. The spirits that spoke to her were nothing more then results from a few too many hits to the head, but she was unaware of this. One of them appeared, the lady, Vodelle. "Dainielle, C Four would work much better, you know that... right?" Trying to hide the fact that she was thinking hard she tried to examine Vodelle. She was an older woman, she had grey hair, and some sharp edged glasses. "Well.... I... uh--" Vodelle hushed her, "do you want to give yourself away you fool?!" The spirit then pointed at Mr. Jones. "Keep an eye out for him, I have a feeling in my gut that he'll give you a bit of trouble. Now, go after the girl... quit staring at him!"

Dainielle snapped her attention away from Mr. Jones and looked back towards Silvia. Looking back and forth between the two she decided what she would do. "Vodelle," she spoke in a hushed tone, "I think that I should deal with this man first, then approach Siliva." The vision shook it's head frantically. "You fool! If you walk up to him and say something stupid like you always do then you'll give us away!"Trying not to be noticed she nodded slightly, if someone were staring at her the movement of her head would be clear. Slowly she stepped towards Silvia, she tried to think about what she was going to say, her attempts failed. After a second of walking she had reached where Silvia and an unknown man sat. They seemed to be speaking to one another. Vodelle ushered her forwards, Dainielle however stood her ground, she didn't move a single step forwards.

Dainielle smiled as if she hadn't been arguing with a spirit. She didn't know that whatever the spirit said she had muttered almost silently. "Hello there, are you the miss Silvia?" Silvia turned her head towards Dainielle, she nodded slightly. "I was wondering if you would give me perfect directions including street names and addressed to your home?" It took Silvia a minute to grip the words Dainielle had just spoken, then she raised her eyebrow. "Why do you want to know?" Though Dainielle worried that it would only cause more harm to reply, "I'm studying many designs for houses, I love your work, I would like to write about your house in a paper." Silvia shook her head, "I'm sure that you could find many other houses that would work fine." Dainielle couldn't help but let her eyes widened, she quickly turned around and ran a few feet.

For a moment she looked fine, then she looked as if she had been clawed at by something, she covered her ears and dropped to her knees. Through clenched teeth she hissed; "fool! Now you must look for her address with google... do you know how hard that is when you don't even know the name of the town you're in!" Without a second to spare she stood upright, she looked like nothing had happened, then she walked out of the building. As she walked she scowled, she didn't need the spirits bossing her around, she could find the home of Silvia without having to use google.

As she turned a cornor away from the building another spirit appeared, this one was of a six year old child. He was blonde with glowing red eyes, his hair often modelled horns, and he was dressed as a nun. At first she was fine with him being there, then he shrieked, "you fool!" She watched as a large running chainsaw appeared in his hands. As her eyes widened she let out a shriek. "Tommy, don't do this..." he took a step forwards.

*Virginia*

I walked up to Silvia's apartment. She had given me a key to something that she couldn't come and get herself. She said that when I take the object out of the place I was told that I wasn't supposed to look at them. She said that if I did and she found out about it, she would fire me on the spot and soil my name all throughout the scientific community.

I sighed and blew some hair out of my face. Typical.

I turned the corner and saw a lady shrieking "Tommy, don't do this!"

I kept my eyes averted and walked around the crazy chick. As I went up the stairs to Silvia's, I wondered why she sounded so spooked on the phone and then so pale when she gave me the key. I knew she had been going home, but she said she found that she couldn't. I didn't argue or ask questions. I just nodded.

I am such a good intern.

I made it to Silvia's room without any trouble. I bent down in front of her dresser and took out the bottom drawer and took the clothes out of it. On the side, so small you couldn't hardly see, was a little lock. I took the tiny key out of my pocket and put it into the lock and turned.

It clicked and the middle split upwards. I ignored my rising curiosity and opened the little doors. Inside was a small device wrapped in brown paper. I picked it up carefully and put it into my coat pocket. I put the key in my other pocket and went about cleaning up. I closed the compartment and put the clothes back in just as they were.

I went down the stairs and out the door, ready to give whatever the thing in my pocket was to Silvia.

Ebony

"Someone was in your school record." The lady at the office said. I had been called down to the office, and this was the last thing I wanted to hear.

"Why on zis earth would someone doz that to me?" Then i thought back to the man in the suit, and two puzzle pieces fit together.

"I am terribly sorry. Fortunately only one thing was taken."

"What wez zat?"

"Your set of records." She replied. I sighed. But why would the guy want those papers. I had a strange feeling it had something to do with that machine.

"Thank youz." I said, and walked out of the office. I waited pacently for the school day to be over, then sprinted home to tell my father what happened. Then halfway I decided anaginst it. I had no proof, only gut feeling. But whoever had been in my records had done a right sloppy job of it, and for my sake I hope they were fired.

Mr. Jones

The man from the cafe turned the corner and ran into Virginia. She fell down.

"Sorry about that," he said with a sheepish smile. Jones offered her a hand up.

"I'm fine," the girl said with a frown. She seemed suspicious.

But Mr. Jones was done. He walked off with his hands in his pockets to change his suit.

Virginia suddenly realized that her coat was a bit lighter; the package was gone.

Ebony

I struggled hard to remember the name on the man's plaque pinned to his chest.

It wasn't Jonas, not Jonah.Then I remembered, Tom Jones, CIA. The nearest building of theirs was in Seattle. I groaned. That was almost an hour away. I went and put on something that was half decent black pants, a pink shirt and a beret.

"Dad, I need to take a trip to Chicago." I said in french. Thank god it was Friday.

"Why?" He questioned, thank the heavens he spoke french as well.

"Going...shopping...um, with Melissa." He totally bought my lie.

I went into the garage and got in my Maxima. It was a gift from dad. And it was awesome.
(Pic: http://www.rpmgo.com/images/2009_nissan_maxima.jpg)

I pulled out of my driveway and started driving towards Seattle.

*Virginia*

"Oh, my God. Oh, my God!"

I repeated this multiple times as I ran after the guy from the coffee shop. The SOB stole the package! I have no idea how he did it, but I had to get it back, and soon!

I saw his head over a crowd of people. I frowned and then screamed, "That man stole my purse!" I pointed him out, hoping some nice person would catch up with him and hold him when I got there.

It worked. One woman ran up to him, grabbed his arm, and was obviously telling him to stop. I ran up to him. "Give it back!" I demanded.

"Give what back?" He asked innocently.

"You know what. The package you stole from my coat pocket!"

"Wait, you said he took your purse." Said the woman who stopped him.

"Well, he did take something from me, although it wasn't my purse." I turned back to him. "I swear, if you don't give me back that package I swear-"

I felt a small shock to my side, and then everything went black.


*****Hope this is okay. If not, just tell me and I'll edit ******

Ebony

"I ez looking for a certainz Tomas Jones." I said to the lady at the desk of the CIA office. She picked up a phone and dialed a number.

"Mr. Jones, we have someone here to see you." She eyed me over.

There was murmurs coming out of the phone.

"Um, whats your name?" She asked.

"I ez Ebony Seal."

The woman repeated the info into the phone. She eyed me again.

"She is a red-head. Maybe 18. Weird french accent."

More murmuring. She put the phone down.

"Well, go on up. His room is 209. The elevator pin number is 1424." I nodded, thanked the woman and went to the elevator. Before long I was standing in front of room 209.

(( xD Poor Mr. Jones. He goes through all this trouble to be covert and he's wearing a flipping NAME-TAG with CIA on it.))

Mr. Jones

The woman screamed as Virginia fell to the ground. "What happened to her?!"

Jones slid the small taser up his sleeve, eyes still on the unconscious girl. "I don't know, but you should call 911. She may have had a seizure; it'd make sense with how weird she was behaving just beforehand. She could be mentally ill."

"Right, right," the woman said, distracted. She got out her cell phone and shakily typed in the numbers. She didn't even notice when Mr. Jones slipped away.

Just then his cell rang. It was the lady at the front desk of his office building. Apparently a French girl named Ebony Seal had just called for his office.

He smiled slightly. "Thanks Gina, I'll meet her up there. No need to tell her I'm not in my office, don't worry. You spoke to security? Yeah, they must've got the memo that I was looking for her. Mmm. I just walked up, see you."

Mr. Jones nodded politely at Gina as he headed up the elevator. He chuckled when he saw the girl.

"Waiting for me, Miss Seal?" The machine was tucked safely into his inner pocket now; there was no indication that he was carrying it.

**I'll join this tomorrow.**

Ebony

I spoke in french, since I knew he learned the language, "Actually I was. Someone went through my school records, and something tells me it was you."

"It, in fact, was not me. He works for me though."

"Well HE did a sloppy job!"

"Tut, tut, I guess he will have to be 'let off'."

"Why were you in my records?"

"Well, to put it simply, your a little girl who knows too much."

"I am not little!" He had me cornered. I couldn't scream, couldn't run. I was trapped.

"Now tell me, why do you want this machine?" He asked, with a malicious grin on his face.

Name: Malcolm Rush

Age: 25

Appearance: http://he1z.deviantart.com/art/Reporter-99586554

Personality: Malcolm has an insatiable curiosity, one that sees him moving between jobs with shocking regularity. He has put himself in harm's way more than once to find out things which have caught his attention. For him, information can be like a shiny bauble, and often takes priority in his life. He manages to get on well enough with people anyway, but just gets carried away sometimes.

Strengths/Weaknesses: Malcolm's excellent at finding things out, and has a wide network of contacts to help him with that. He doesn't often think about risks, though, and has a bad habit of inadvertently dragging people into the same trouble he finds himself in.

Weapons (if any): A Smith and Wesson model 625 revolver, which he has some idea of how to use.

Other: Up for love/friendship. Searching for the weapon to see if it exists, find out how it works, and then make a point of never using it.