Border, KS

“But we’re clear,” Walter said a little bit later after a mouth full of guacamole, “On the fact that this is a trap?” He offered, gesturing with a chip covered in the mouth-watering green chunks. “Like…a big, obvious, stinking trap?”

Andre Alexander reached for some of the chips, and Walter batted the other man’s reach away with his free hand. “I will hiss and arch my back and claw you in the face.” He promised direly, and the man let him take some more. Andre and William Alexander, and Leah Silverman, had come to the apartment shortly after the food had arrived in order to discuss the plan.

“Yes, it is totally a trap.” Tania said with a shake of her head. “But it’s also not a trap we can ignore, if it gives us a chance to jump him prison style, and shank him with Morgan’s leftovers. So how do we turn his trap back on him?” She looked to Morgan.

“I’ll move the portal.” She explained, looking up to meet Walter’s eyes. “If I try to move it to a completely different place, I’d need to open a new one. But I can try to…jolt it, stutter it with a burst of my own power. It’ll move it somewhere in the vicinity, within ten or twenty feet—but at enough of an angle that we may well be able to have the drop on them instead.”

The four police officers exchanged looks at that, considering the tactical situation, before they shared a general and communal shrug. “Still a trap, but it doesn’t suck quite as bad.” William Alexander offered. “Who is your team?” He queried the two Queens.

“Me, Ryan, Walter, and Gabriel.” Morgan answered, shrugging. “They’re the only ones we’ve talked to, and they seem to be the most involved in our fight.”

Andre and Leah shared a glance of surprise. “Like hell.” Andre said simply. “I’m on the SOR team, and we’ve both been involved in this since Walter got here. We’re not letting you all go gallivanting off to somewhere freaky without us.” Leah smirked as she was volunteered as well, but didn’t disagree with the sentiment.

Tania smirked, and Morgan gave her a beatific smile. “You owe me five dollars.” The medical examiner said to her sister. “I told you they would volunteer.” Tania reached in to her pocket and pulled out a bill, glancing at it to make sure it was a five before she passed it on down the table. “You both are very loyal, but this is going to be very ugly even if we get the best possible circumstances. This isn’t your war, you don’t have to be involved.”

“What, it’s my war?” Walter asked, sputtering a bit. “I wanted to come to a boring rural town and pull over redneck drunks with tattoos of the General Lee, not fight a war in a bullshit land of not-real magic.”

“You’re…well, you’ve managed to get yourself involved.” Morgan offered, and her voice was regretful about that fact. She reached out across the table and squeezed his arm. “The others know things but they haven’t talked to Oberon himself, he hasn’t noted them.”

Walter raised an eyebrow. “How do you know that he’s noted me?”

Tania smirked. “He notices everyone who stands up to him. We’ve jokingly referred to it as Level Two. Everyone exists at Level One, until they get noticed. Then he remembers them, and has to do something to make you fit in to his world. You need to serve, or be recognized by him as an equal, or be destroyed. So he definitely remembers you, and if we don’t do something about him then he will come for you—unless you die when he crashes Faerie into the mortal world.”

“Charming.” Walter sighed. “Well, assuming Andre and Leah are in, then what kind of equipment are we taking? Tactical load, or swords and armor?” Walter finished his question with a little bit of a smirk, which went around the table in various forms of laughter or snorting and shaking of heads.

“Guns. No vests unless you’ve got Dragon Skin armor tucked away somewhere, because they won’t have a lot of firearms.” Morgan answered. “And for the record yes I meant the modern body armor, not actual dragon skin armor. That was in the basement.” Morgan grumbled at that fact, and Walter assumed that if it actually existed that it would probably be protective.

“When do we go? I assume the answer is soon?” Walter continued to query as they cleared out the rest of the food, and began to tuck away the empty bags.

“We should do some training before we go, but we shouldn’t wait any longer than this weekend. They do know we’re coming, but if we keep them waiting too long they might get antsy. It will take a couple of nights for me to make the weapons,” Morgan gestured to the shards of metal, “and we need to train you three a little bit so we don’t feel like we’re leading you in to slaughter.”

Walter nodded, taking one of the empty beer bottles and tossing it expertly in to the recycling bin. “Well then. We train, and then this weekend we try to kill a Faerie King. And assuming that we survive, I try to forget having ever said those words.”