FRONTPAGE: BBC BROADCAST OF CINZA, HAILEY WINSCOMBE, CORNELIUS MALTON — 12,642 COMMENTS

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reply: So, just to get a clear timeline here:

--Thur. Nov. 8th: An unknown third party attempts to publish Cinza's private diaries (update: Cinza blames Nate Price of Rallsburg)

--Fri. Nov. 9th - morning: Hailey Winscombe appears in Redmond, WA, at the Luther, Renalds, and Portman law offices, tries to get the third party to reveal themselves. No dice. Hailey flies away ~20 minutes later.

--Fri. Nov. 9th - evening: Hailey gets announced as a surprise guest for Russell Wallace on Monday night, along with the third party. Since Hailey never announces who it is, I think we can assume she signed some kind of NDA or got threatened with something pretty big.

--Mon. Nov. 12th - morning: Hailey is sighted meeting with the FBI in Seattle. The FBI announces their 'Thaumaturgy Task Force' that afternoon.

--Mon Nov. 12th - evening: Hailey goes on the Evening Show, gets roasted by Wallace. Broadcast is shut down by legal injunction that also blocks the publication of the Diaries by PPP. Later revealed to be Kendra Laushire, who is suddenly alive?

--Tue. Nov 13th–Thur. Nov 16th: fuck-all happens?? Still sightings of vigilantism in Seattle though, so maybe Hailey went back to doing her thing in the quiet.

--Fri. Nov 16th-evening pt. 1: Hailey flies down to Portland with A.Ashe, meets up with one of the Rallsburg families (Nelson—son was the 'bisection victim'), comes out in tears.

--Fri. Nov 16th-evening pt. 2: Hailey flies back up to Seattle in TWELVE MINUTES (720 MPH!) to stop/join in a high speed armed chase on I-405-S involving two still-unknown parties, one awakened (fireballs/lightning bolts from the chasing vehicle) (This is who Cinza claims worked for Malton? Or Brian Hendricks? unclear)

--Fri. Nov 16th-evening pt. 3: More shaky footage in Lakewood of the 'golems' last seen in Tacoma (see thread here from Oct. 26th). Helicopter has to break off due to incoming gunfire, camera feed lost. Picks back up with Hailey carrying injured/dead out of collapsed buildings in Lakewood. Hailey, A.Ashe and unknown companions get into an ambulance and aren't seen again.

--Sat. Nov 17th–Wed. Nov 22nd: even more fuck-all happens. None of the major players are seen. I swear something had to happen in here though after what comes next.

--Thur. Nov 22rd: Hailey solo-flies across America + Atlantic Ocean.

--Fri. Nov 23rd - London: Building in downtown London collapses for unknown reasons. Hailey is first on the scene but doesn't appear to be the cause. No apparent victims. I'm not sure how this fits in but it seems like it must be related.

--Sat. Nov 24th - Seattle/Tacoma area: Reports of a helicopter chase in the early morning. Nobody reported on this, but immediately after, two different high-speed jets were on flight radar—one out of B.C., one out of SeaTac. Both went straight to London. One was registered to Laushire Enterprises, the other unknown.

--Sat. Nov 24th - London - evening: Everything that just happened.

So here's my question: what the fuck is going on? Who the hell is Jessica Silverdale, why did a whole bunch of shit just go down in London on the opposite end of the world from magic ground zero, and where the fuck did Cinza come from?

reply: Good summary, thanks. Jessica Silverdale was a resident of Rallsburg, presumed dead. I wonder if this means Malton was involved in the initial Rallsburg incident, if her death is on him re: Cinza?

reply--reply: no, Cinza said Malton's men 'shot her dead in Lakewood'. She was alive until the 16th.

reply: Automatic Conversion Bot: 720mph == 1158.73 km/h

reply: Any ideas who the third party was? The person who was going to leak Cinza's diaries in the first place

reply--reply: Cinza said it herself. Nathaniel Price. Another presumed-dead from Rallsburg. What a little bitch.

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  Nate scrolled through the threads—comment by comment, page by page. He bounced between streams, each carrying Cinza and Hailey in screaming headlines. They were worldwide, even moreso than Hailey's last few appearances. Every single time she went on screen, she drew a bigger crowd. Viewers flocked to her, and though there were some rumblings of discontent among the commentariat, most were more than happy to see her as a representative for the new age of magic—at least until Cinza opened her mouth and gave an eloquent speech in her echoey, ethereal voice.

  "That was supposed to be me," he said aloud.

  "Well, she said your name at least," Linda sighed. "You'll undoubtedly receive a call from the FBI soon enough." She was really tired of hearing Nate Price complain, and even more exhausted by the little apartment he'd been sequestered in for months. "If it means anything, Mr. Price, we're making good progress on reclaiming your family's assets. The state still has cards left to play, but I'm confident we'll have it back in full."

  "I don't care about that," snapped Nate. He spun in his chair to look at her—a chair far nicer than he deserved. The firm had spent far too much money on him in exchange for the promised return on investment, and of course, Nate couldn't deliver. "I was supposed to be the magic guy. The one at the top."

  "You're well aware why this happened," Linda pointed out, leaning back against the cabinet. Nate wasn't the worst client she'd ever had, but he definitely ranked high on the list for 'most frustrating'. "It was beyond our control."

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  "Bullshit." Nate spun back to the computer.

  "Mr. Price, you chose not to speak to the press."

  "I wanted to do it in front of her," said Nate. "That was the whole point!"

  "I thought the point was to become famous?" asked Linda, furrowing her brow. "You don't need Hailey Winscombe for that."

  "Your way wasn't working!"

  Linda sighed. "Those interviews were the only ones we still could air after the injunction from Miss Laushire. No one wanted puff pieces about Rallsburg. Magic is the real story."

  "Why not?" Nate struck a ridiculous pose. Linda had long since mastered the art of ignoring the antics of her clients, or she would have delivered some choice withering sarcasm. "I'm a survivor, right? I can do magic too. Stuff about the book is off limits, but I'm not."

  "To be frank, Mr. Price?"

  "Just spit it out, Linda."

  One thing which never ceased to irritate her was Nate's lack of professionalism. She was working for him for free, on the promise of an eventual payout that seemed likely never to deliver at this juncture. If he wasn't going to treat her with respect, she wouldn't offer hers any longer.

  "You're a nobody. Hailey Winscombe was a far more sympathetic and relatable person for the public to latch on to. You saw yourself how many profiles they ran for her."

  "They ran some of me too!"

  "Only in relation to the town's history," Linda pointed out. "Meanwhile, she got every part of her life examined. The media loved her, and when she finally showed herself? She delivered." You didn't, she added mentally, and Nate—to his credit—picked up on the unspoken addition.

  "I was forced not to," he protested.

  "Hailey jumps off buildings and flies around the world. She saves lives and acts out superhero fantasies in Seattle—though, of course, nobody can ever prove that. The media loves drama and intrigue, and she's now wrapped up in a half-dozen conspiracies and tragedies. They could talk about her all day and night, and people will eat it up."

  "And I'm—"

  "A former spoiled rich kid who threw away his shot," Linda snapped, surprising herself. Nate hesitated. His face fell. He looked suitably ashamed. She took a breath. "My apologies, Mr. Price."

  "...No, you're right," said Nate. He shook his head. "I missed my shot."

  Linda sighed. "Mr. Wallace is as much to blame. We should have gotten airtime before the injunction was handed down. I'm still looking into our options on damages there."

  Her phone buzzed. Another client was waiting for her call-back, from which Nate had sidetracked her. "...Was there anything else, Mr. Price?" she asked.

  "Nah." Nate turned back to the computer. "I'll figure this out. New plan."

  She suppressed another tired sigh. Working with Nate was an endless cycle of his 'plans' and subsequent failures—or failures to launch, really, as they rarely got off the ground in the first place. It seemed as good a dismissal as any, so Linda left before he could come up with another topic to complain about. She had other clients to work with—not many, but each were preferable to more time spent with Nate Price.

  Linda had worked pro bono cases before. It was right there in the job description for someone who worked with whistleblowers and asylum-seekers. She had the company fund to fall back on—plus her usual salary and her own savings—but Nate's case was proving to be an ongoing drain for the firm that couldn't be ignored forever. They'd invested a lot of time and money into the interviews, secrecy agreements, publication process, and media blitz, only to have their sales cut short before they began. Retailers were already asking for refunds on their advances, with the book's release in perpetual limbo.

  Kendra's legal team was good. Very good. They'd tied up the publication in so much red tape and terrifying legal threats that not a single copy could even be retrieved. The advances they should have received were completely blacked out. No one dared touch the sealed cases across the country for fear of swift and brutal retribution.

  As Linda left the unassuming little condo where Nate lived and got into her car, she checked the number of the last caller. To her surprise, it was a client she hadn't heard from in months—a girl who'd hired their services back in September, on the very same day as Nate Price no less. Far more intriguing, they shared one important characteristic: they were both survivors of Rallsburg.

  She hadn't contacted Linda once since that day in September. Two days after Jerry Hauserman died, and the world realized that there were survivors of the Rallsburg incident, Linda had been tasked with protecting the secrets of both. She wracked her brain to remember the girl's name—it had been so long, and she only spoke with her once, yet she'd given the girl her personal number.

  Linda gave up and called back. It'd come to her. "Linda speaking."

  "Hi." She sounded very on-edge. Every word felt like she were tiptoeing across a floor full of glass, risking a cut with every careful step. "I'm sorry to call your personal line, but I needed to be certain of something."

  "...Rachel, right?" Linda guessed.

  "Yes."

  "I only give out this line to particularly important clients who require a special degree of privacy," said Linda. "Your personal safety is my top priority."

  "I… I appreciate that, thank you."

  Linda smiled. It was a huge relief to have a client who actually seemed to care. It didn't affect how she treated them, of course—she was a professional, after all—but it was far more satisfying to help those who seemed like genuinely good people.

  "What can I help you with?"

  "The insurance I placed in your protection," said Rachel cautiously. "I need to know it's still prepared to release, in the event of any of the conditions I set."

  Linda pulled out her other phone—a dummy device with no networking, which she used solely to take notes and keep records too sensitive to ever be connected to the internet. Her eyes widened as she read through the conditions again. At the time, they'd been meaningless to her, but after everything she'd read in Cinza's diaries and learned from Nate…

  "If I may, miss," said Linda slowly.

  "Call me Rachel, please," said Rachel uncomfortably.

  "I've been privy to some information recently," she went on, fully aware just how close she was to toeing the line on attorney-client privilege, "about a certain entity known as Grey-eyes and your relationship with her."

  Rachel didn't reply right away. Linda could hear her steady breathing from the other end of the line. "...I'm guessing you didn't get that from my insurance," she said quietly.

  "No. As you requested, the documents you entrusted to our care are still sealed. As long as you continue to check in regularly via the method you specified, they'll stay that way." Linda took a pause to drive home her point. "I think I've deduced their purpose to some degree, though. Not the contents, to be absolutely clear, but I thought you should know as my client that I'm aware."

  "Okay." Rachel hesitated again. "Will this change what I hired you to do?"

  "That depends," said Linda.

  "I don't intend to commit any crimes, the information has no direct financial value or any relation to existing criminal activity, has not been named in any court orders, and does not involve any other parties other than the aforementioned," said Rachel. "None of the conditions under the Rules of Professional Conduct paragraph B apply. You have no obligation to disclose the information."

  Linda was taken aback, She'd been about to cite that very same paragraph to Rachel, and as far as she was aware, the girl had no background whatsoever in a legal profession. "Yes," she said finally. "Your insurance still stands to be released if any of the conditions you set are fulfilled. I just wanted to confirm whom you believe holds a threat against your life."

  "...More or less," said Rachel quietly. "Thank you."

  Linda smiled to herself. "I suppose there's no point in going to the authorities, given her nature." Unlike Nate Price, who should have turned himself in months ago…

  "None at all."

  "Miss Du—Rachel," Linda quickly corrected herself. "Since we're moving well beyond legal precedent here, I think I should ask: is there anything we should do if she comes after us?"

  "I don't think she will," said Rachel. "She's not a violent person, and I think she'd understand you're just doing your job."

  "But the same doesn't apply to you."

  Rachel laughed bitterly. "No, I'm pretty sure she hates me."

  "Well… I wish you the best of luck, then. Was there anything else?"

  "No. Thank you."

  "...Any time," said Linda.