The Miscreant League

[Silent_Wolf]

Killie nodded and walked over to the door quietly, cracking the door open to peek inside.

[Miranda_]

It was indeed the lab, and was deserted. The ouija board was on a table right at the very end.

[Silent_Wolf]

Killie nodded and opened the door enough to creep inside and walk over to the board. "Stay out there and keep guard, okay, Sam?" she whispered.

[Miranda_]

"Sure," Sam replied. "Just let me know when you're done, and I'll get us out of here."

[Silent_Wolf]

"Thanks." Killie fiddled with the board, typing in Raziel's name.

[Miranda_]

Nothing happened for a short while, then something formed on the screen. Unlike the computer, the ouija board was unhampered by such things as real names, or registration. It just showed scenes attached to the person. Soon, a scene came into focus.

A woman was leaning against a wall inside a house, talking on the phone. She had long blonde hair, pale blue eyes and was dressed in a way that left little to the imagination. A toddler crawled nearby; this was a boy, and he had very little of his mother's looks in him. He had black hair and darker blue eyes. He wore a vest and shorts that were dirty and torn in parts. His mother took not the slightest notice of him, save to kick her son away from her if he got too close to her feet.

[Silent_Wolf]

".. Jesus. I didn't know it was that bad."

[Miranda_]

The scene abruptly shifted. In the new scene, the boy was older; aged around four years old.

The woman was putting on makeup in front of a mirror. The boy stood in the doorway. She turned and scowled at him. "Get lost, you little sh*t. Can't you see that I'm busy?"

The boy flinched at the anger in his mother's voice. "But I'm hungry."

"I don't care. Go out and find something someplace else," she replied. "I'm going out to work now, and I don't have time to feed you."

[Silent_Wolf]

Killie flinched in sympathy. Like her job much?

[Miranda_]

In the next scene, it soon became obvious just what Raziel's mother did for a living.

The blonde woman was leaning over in order to talk to a man sitting at the wheel of a car.

"Fancy a good time tonight, darling?" she said with a wink. The man replied, "How much?"

The woman, Terri, told him her price and he motioned for her to get in the car. It drove past a gaggle of children of all ages who were the kids of the women of the slums, some on the game, some not. One child stood alone; this was Terri's son. Even at five years old, there was an air of danger about him and the other children kept their distance.