“Master Hartlan, did not intentionally set off the bomb, but his own presence triggered it.” Boggart spoke as he drew on the whiteboard. “Travel through the shadow plane is quicker and removes quite a few of the perceptions of this world. It would be like putting on filters on your glasses, and having ten league boots. By this method of travelling, Rory would first ‘inquire’ or look ahead to where he needed to go.”
“This is how he managed to triangulate where the bomb was. Looking ahead and seeing what was extremely different. And in this case, what was extremely normal.”
The room of police, registered powers, officials, Magii watched the pair at the front of the room. Boggart held himself tall, all five feet, immaculate white suit. TC wore her standard t-shirt, leather jacket, jeans, but the exception of the red and blue mask of the Pendragon, her hair was tied back behind her head.
“One of the largest anomalies that occurred was that many of the Magii had a moment where they ‘were not themselves’.” TC held herself back from making finger quotes. “They all had one common theme, young boy at play. On the coastline, with beings that seemed benevolent and made of light.”
Many heads in the room nodded.
“This is not a time bomb we are looking for. We are looking for a bomb made of time itself.” TC noted out, as she pointed out to the board. “Memories and moments in time are the trip wire. Due to the chaotic nature of Rory’s energy, we were given some grace for him to contain the blast.”
One of the Magii held his hands up, “Between there and here, is only the now.”
“There has been growth though.” Another Magii interjected.
“Ahem, this is not the venue for that discussion. But it does give us insight as to who has been planting these bombs.” Boggart said in crisp fashion, and slid across the whiteboard. “Our current profile is such. Lady, in her late thirties to early sixties. Never married, quite set in her ways. Biologically unable to give birth, our departments have permission to search through fertility records. Telepathic and Chrono power enabled, but only subconsciously. Never registered, and is quite possibly still a citizen. On the Magii scale, she very well could be near deity level power with the ability to rewrite time. Or even worse, your own memories.”
Goodstone stepped forward, “So, the bomber may not know she is even doing it.”
“Indeed. I still maintain that this the act of a man, but I have been frequently wrong Detective.” Boggart smiled through the British accent.
“But there have been no new threats, correct?” Tom Silver walked into the briefing room, green slime dripped off his leather jacket, there appeared to be some bits of tentacles still clutched to his arm and leg. “No one else got the alert on the big nasty in the-”
Tom looked around, “Guess not. That one’s on me. Literally. So why no new threats? No letters? What stopped?”
Slinger, raised herself up as tall as she could, “At this time, we have no plausible theories.”
“Besides Hartlan becoming the bomb itself, and needs to explode, in order to get the next one going… right? It’s quite possible that it’s a chain reaction. That is what time is about.” Tom took a towel gratefully from someone and wiped his face off. “Send the janitors a box of doughnuts would you? Just as bad job cleaning up after the giant monsters as it is slaying them.”
Goodstone looked to the swordsman. “Thanks Tom. Slinger, Boggart. Thank you for the debriefing. We’ll keep you all posted on this as developments occur. Good hunting everyone.”
The majority of the room left, until Goodstone looked to the four faces. Slinger, emotionless behind the Pendragon mask. Boggart, staring off into space, his clawed finger tips stroking through the spines on his chin. Tom Silver, still wiping himself off as best as he could, an array of edged weaponry on the tables laid out.
“Explode or defuse?”
“Defuse.” Boggart spoke.
“Explode.” Tom said. “Seems quite a regular occurrence that you all die once or twice every four of five years. Or just wait till the human race ends, then wait for a way to defuse him properly. The cryogenics thing, you know?”
“I don’t know. We have to at least reach Rory, tell him what we are doing. The last thing we need is a vengeful undead magii not knowing why his life ended.”
Boggart lifted his head, “Dreamwalk. We should be able to reach him in the coma there. I am not allowed to such methods, being of my kind. We could also ask the fae folk for a favor.”
Silver laughed, “You go right ahead my spiney buddy. I’m not getting involved with those dandelion eaters. I’d rather go try my hand at working for city hall.”
Goodstone pulled out his comm pad, started typing in and figuring out the numbers. “Two teams, we pull Rory out to the Lagrange station, give the engineers one week to contain the explosion. Team one, goes dreamwalk or whatever, contact Rory. Team two, let’s see if we can’t duplicate the Hartlan bomb. Maybe there was another one there in town.”
“Team One, Silver, pick your team. I do recall the fairy folk do not like cold iron. Treat them with respect. Team Two, Slinger and Boggart, pick the rest of your team.” Goodstone pointed out to them. “I’m going to get the budget approved.”