Killer - Not quite mystery, not quite thriller - Writers Forum

GabrielleCornwell · 12-01-2007, 08:52 PM

Hello y'all - this is the story I'm working on, called Killer.

I haven't finished it yet, so I'll just be posting chunks of it randomly on any day that I can manage. First off, we should start with the prologue, shouldn't we?

Prologue

"You can't!"

"I can and I will."

Sally Jones stared at her brother, Gareth, in shock. She wasn't one to lecture him on anything, with her spiky pink hair flitting about her slightly shrewd face, her mocking, brown eyes calculating, but she was one to stop him.

"Gar - what the hell's going on?" she demanded. "Why the hell are you after Ryan?"

Gareth looked to Sally, his dark hair hiding the strained look in his deep, thoughtful eyes, his hand stuffed in his pocket, holding that beautiful pistol that had once belonged to his great-grandfather.

Sally, however, cut on.

"Is this about Monica? I told you, she ain't goddamn interested in that pretty-boy -"

"No, this isn't about Monica," Gareth interrupted quietly. "Sally, please - you know I'm not a coldhearted git to do this for no reason."

"No, you were a coward. Always."

The words stabbed Gareth's senses, but he kept his composure. Now was not the time to argue with his sister, standing there with an unpleasant leer curling her pierced lips.

"Then maybe I won't be able to get Ryan," Gareth stated.

"Is that a trick to make me let you go?" Sally spat. "There's something you aren't telling me, Gar, and I know it."

By this time, Gareth was already at the front door, Sally's gaze piercing through him like a razor.

"I'm going, Sal."

"Gareth, no!"

But he had already gone out the door. Sally rushed after him, grabbing his arm and placing herself in front of him, back to the small copse of trees, under the inky sky.

"I won't let you," Sally hissed, her eyes flashing and dripping with venom.

"Sal -"

The first gunshot rang out and pierced Sally's chest, then the second pierced her shoulder. The third had nothing to do with the brother and the sister who both fell upon the pavement, creating puddles of dark crimson.

It had something to do with the two slender shapes hidden by the trees, one falling limp against rough bark, her hair falling across her face despite its pageboy cut.

--------

I know that this isn't very descriptive, and there are probably a lot of bad points but chapters 1 & 2 look very promising *to me*.

Will post them later.

Malone · 12-02-2007, 01:48 AM

Interesting.
The line about "strained thoughtful eyes" is very cliched. All my writing proffesors preached against using "eye" descriptions like that. You probably want to change it, it hung me up more than anything.
Don't * you're goddams. That was really annoying.
To be honest, I only read this because I love Dr. Cameron, and saw her in your sig. But it was a fairly well written piece and had an interesting end. I'd probably read a little more, but you'll have to kick it up a few notches to hold my interest.
Also, this seems much too short to be a prologue. Either make it longer or cut it. As it is, trying to attach something this short to the front of a novel would be amateurish.

GabrielleCornwell · 12-02-2007, 04:24 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Malone

Interesting.
The line about "strained thoughtful eyes" is very cliched. All my writing proffesors preached against using "eye" descriptions like that. You probably want to change it, it hung me up more than anything.
Don't * you're goddams. That was really annoying.
To be honest, I only read this because I love Dr. Cameron, and saw her in your sig. But it was a fairly well written piece and had an interesting end. I'd probably read a little more, but you'll have to kick it up a few notches to hold my interest.
Also, this seems much too short to be a prologue. Either make it longer or cut it. As it is, trying to attach something this short to the front of a novel would be amateurish.

Thanks for your comment. I'll change the eye description once I go through it again, but I got rid of the *. I don't know why I put it there, actually...my bad.

I'll also see what I can do about the length of the prologue! I thought it was a bit short as well. Here's chapter 1, though.

Chapter 1

If Constable Douglas Cox had known that he would be left to interviewing the acquaintances of the Jones that day, he would have been more joyful and happy from the start. If Commander Pitt thought he could do it, he could do it.

Doug glanced down at the photos once more. Sally Jones was a punk girl, a Pink wanna-be with spiky, bubblegum hair that seemed to fall about Final Fantasy-style, her pale, oval face drained of life and happiness as she lay in her own blood. She was the girl who you would see in prison every year - the girl that would be a police station frequent.

Then there was her brother, Gareth. His eyes were still open - cold and lifeless, his leather jacket glimmering with red.

The door to the office opened, and Doug looked up. He just loved the dim lights and the straight-backed chairs, right out of a cop show. Only, this was real.

The visitor was a girl, skinny and fair with long, medium-blonde hair that fell sleek and shiny to her petite waist, streaked with copper. She was wearing a floral-print dress that was extremely thin, with a plain, blue denim jacket hanging loosely over her shoulders. On her feet were killer heels that were so purely white, with a pretty leather handbag sporting golden clasps hanging from her arm, coloured the same. As she turned her face towards Doug like a scared kitten, lantern-like eyes pierced his mind, coloured a bright, defiant blue. Between was placed a pert nose above pout lips that held sleazy, pink lip-gloss upon them.

Doug quickly looked out of the doorway to his pal, Frank. With the police-cap pulled low over his eyes, Frank stated, "Ms. Cornwell would like to speak to you, Doug."

"Uh - please take a seat, Ms. Cornwell," Doug said quickly, not wanting to seem inexperienced or childish in any way. Especially in front of a girl like her, no matter how chilling her eyes were.

The girl obeyed, taking a seat opposite of Doug and hugging her handbag to herself. She seemed nervous and scared, yet curious at the same time. She seemed intrigued by Doug.

"May I ask your full name?" Doug asked politely. Frank smiled amusedly, slipping into the safety of the shadows, undisturbed by the light. The girl blushed and fidgeted, yet kept her eyes firmly on Doug.

"Gabrielle Marie Cornwell. I'm half-French."

Could that explain the corporeality of the girl before him? Doug blinked and smiled.

"Lovely name, Ms. Cornwell. Frank - jot that down, will you?"

Pen scratching on paper confirmed Frank's obedience, so Doug ploughed on.

"How old are you, Ms. Cornwell?"

"Twenty-one," she said in a low, forcefully-steadied voice. "I went to the same highschool as Sally and Gareth."

"Had you been in contact with them before they died?"

Gabrielle didn't respond for a brief moment. "Only with Sally - I didn't really know Gareth. He wasn't a party-boy," she finally said.

Was she confessing herself a Paris Hilton? Checking that Frank was still note-taking, Doug wracked his brain for a question that might lead to needed answers.

"Did you have parties often?" he asked lightly.

"Almost always," Gabrielle replied glumly. "Sally had this thing with flirting and bitching around with the boys, so she took to parties every free night."

"Did anyone object to this behaviour?"

Gabrielle adopted an almost guarded look, her lantern eyes wavering slightly in its bizarre intensity.

"Well...a few," she admitted. "But...well...nothing big, people would think."

"It didn't go far then, these objections?" Doug asked cautiously. There was a line that he was toeing quite badly, and he was being rash in his suspicions. Gabrielle seemed to notice this sudden interest and blushed.

"I told you. Nothing that big."

"I see," Doug said slowly. "Could you tell me anything that happened that might have led to the deaths of Sally and Gareth Jones?"

Gabrielle's eyes closed tightly to the point of squinching. She seemed to be wrestling with some inner demon, her pale hands knotted together tightly. Her pout lips thinned considerably as she pressed them together, then filled up again as she opened her eyes.

"Sally bullied Gareth often - that much I know. They're twins and all that, but they just can't stand each other." She blushed again. "Couldn't, I mean."

"Could you name the rest of your classmates?"

"Knika Wellings, Lara Underwood, Gordon Blackwell...that's about it," Gabrielle replied quietly, her eyes starting to twitch as she threw an occasional glance towards Doug. "All I can remember, I mean."

"If you could tell Frank your home address and phone number, I'd be happy," the interrogator concluded. "Thank you, Ms. Cornwell."

Frank shifted up his cap at these words, letting a few black locks fall across his youthful face. Expressionless grey eyes studied Gabrielle before Frank nodded and said, "Jot it down here, miss."

Gabrielle looked at Frank with a light of curiosity in her haunted eyes before slipping over to obey him. At this, the constable smiled and handed her the notepad. Doug gestured to Frank to join him.

"Got anything useful, doc?" Frank asked in a low voice, his eyes glinting. Doug shook his head.

"Not really - have you got any bright ideas?"

Frank's forehead creased and he shot a casual glance towards Gabrielle.

"Those eyes - those're the eyes of someone who's done wrong."

Doug's eyebrows shot up. "Are you saying -"

"It's odd, isn't it? The murder happened only two days ago, and suddenly she shows up so readily?"

Doug could already find himself believing Frank. It was a logical line of thought, but was it something to take seriously?

"Um - Mr. Cox?" Gabrielle stated meekly. "I wrote down everything."

Doug turned and smiled. "Thank you for your time, Ms. Cornwell," he replied.

Jonathan Pitt sighed almost inaudibly as he looked on past the police cars to the outlined patches of ground, once containing the corpses of the Jones twins. His head pounded with a head-ache caused by the noise of excited constables and the depression of the whole place.

He was good-looking for a thirty-five-year-old cop - not one of those chubby idiots with moustaches and large butts. He was tall and bronze with sun-bleached hair and eyes of jade. Not that he cared for his features - that was a Frank Bordeaux worry.

Thinking of that vain twit made him regret leaving both Doug and him together. Cox was a good guy, young and eager, but obedient. Just Frank was so manipulative behind those compassionate eyes and youthful smile, no matter that it seemed like the guy was Doug's sidekick. He wasn't - he was careless, rash and irritating, nothing subdued or obedient like a sidekick should be. It was a shame that if you thought of the Cox-Bordeaux pair, you'd immediately think Bordeaux.

But they were good cops, and that was all that mattered. Nothing major would happen back at the station. Everything was under control - it wasn't like the murderer would pop by for a visit with Doug and Frank.

Ryan Astin lifted the cigarette to his lips, but didn't take a smoke. He just hung it up there for a moment, watching a trickle of pearly white crawl up into the air and disperse into nothingness. His other hand clasped a glass of vodka.

It was a humid night, despite the fact that it was winter, and he sat out on the balcony with a blue tanktop and a pair of Levi's, a Rollex on one wrist, a gold bracelet on the other. His black hair was tied back into a snug pony-tail, his hazel eyes deep-set and cool.

His eyes wandered towards the phone, and beside the phone was a picture. Him, Gabby and Monica. They lingered on the dark-skinned figure of the latter, her glossy, raven-black hair in a pageboy cut, her lips parted in an unconvincing smile. Her stance was dignified and her black eyes almost pitying. Her body was wrapped inside an auburn dress with a short skirt.

The eyes next moved onto Gabby. Her electric-blue eyes were cat-like and shy, her pout lips pulled into an endearing smile. Sleek curtains of medium-blonde fell across the right side of her face as it tilted towards her left shoulder. She wore a black halter-neck top and simple, faded jeans.

Ryan found himself subconsciously smiling. It wouldn't be long before Gabby and Monica came back, then they would all go somewhere together...

They were both great girls, both fun to be around - but Gabby was timid and Monica was manipulative. She had been so ever since high-school. Manipulative of Ryan and Gabby as well as Sally and Gareth. She had been haughty and proud and could turn events at one flick of her glossy hair, which had been long then...

Gabby, though. She would have all the boys fighting to see that quaint blush of her cheeks when she was complimented, that shy shake of her head to get the hair out of her curious eyes...

Ryan tipped back his head and raised the brim of his glass to sip the vodka. Its tangy taste lingered in his mouth, reminding him of the luxury that he was enjoying.

It couldn't have happened without Gabby. She knew the right people, had the large sum of money and her parents' support. She was the reason that they had gotten so far in their plans.

Monica, however, had the devious mind. Her thinking was swift and sure, and all the plans had been formed and moulded by her. Her bossiness had resulted in a dream that Ryan had pursued for a long while. Sally and Gareth's deaths.

Or had it? Neither of them had called to tell him that they had succeeded. Gabby had been rather subdued and quiet earlier - had she done something? The feeling of unease crept into Ryan, and he realised what it felt like to be a killer.

---

My friend told me that the last scene seemed to be cut off from something bigger, so I apologise if it's mediocre. Killer still has many rough edges that I need to smoothe out, so....sorry again.

GabrielleCornwell · 12-07-2007, 04:20 PM

This is half of Chapter 2, since the whole thing is a bit too big to post in one go.

So enjoy, and hopefully tell me where to improve.

Chapter 2

Chloe Roberts's head shot up as the phone rang, her book falling to the floor loudly while her chestnut hair slapped against the silk-covered couch. She blinked once or twice before standing up and quickly padding her way across the mauve carpet, picking up the phone with a slender hand.

"Chloe Roberts," she stated a bit breathlessly, tugging at one of her loose locks.

"Chloe? It's Frank."

Annoyance flashed through Chloe's brown eyes, leaving a trace of impatience and practised briskness.

"Frank, I'm busy -"

"Reading a romance book on your luxury couch and tugging at your hair?" He was amused, his tone sardonic. Unconsciously, Chloe's cheeks turned hot.

"Wrong, as usual. Just - what do you want?"

"Well, I was hoping you'd contact the rest of your mates and get ready to examine some bodies. We've got a double-murder."

"Did Jonathan tell you to ask me?" Chloe asked cynically.

Pause. "No," he replied, heavily amused.

"It's about time you obeyed orders instead of making them up," the brunette said as coolly as she could, adopting her typical work attitude. Despite her love for romance novels and luxurious comfort, Chloe was a very practical woman. She wasn't beautiful, though slightly attractive. She had a curvy body, with slim hips and slightly thick thighs, and a simple face with sharp angles and homely, brown eyes. Her most noticeable feature was her long-fingered hands with incredulously thin joints and a smoothness defying the rubber gloves she usually wore for work.

"C'mon, anything for a friend, ri-?"

"We're not friends, Bordeaux - work partners, maybe," Chloe reprimanded in a stinging tone. "And I'm not -"

"Turn on your TV," Frank cut in smoothly.

Chloe bit back an outraged retort and reached for the controller with her slim-boned fingers. She pressed the "ON" button and kept a wary eye on the news channel. She had been on the edge of her sofa for two days, following news stories on Sally and Gareth Jones with all her attention. Now she saw the infamous Commander Jonathan Pitt on the screen, looking tired and drawn.

"We've been investigating this place non-stop," he was saying in a strained voice. "An anonymous witness admitted to hearing three gunshots, and we're currently searching for the third bullet. We'll be examining the bodies to get more information on the case. Other than that, please stay off the crime-scene. This is urgent."

"You're doing the Jones?" Chloe breathed, surprised.

Frank laughed into the phone. "Are you coming to pick up the bodies, then?"

Chloe shook her head slowly as she almost murmured, "I'll be right there."

A fashionable topless red Jaguar made its way along the twilit road. The sun was lowering itself out of sight while the moon was already high in the sky. With the former behind her, a young woman in her early twenties drove on, medium-blonde hair stirring rapturously from the soft breeze, the natural copper streaks catching the yellow light and flashing dark gold. Slightly oversized sunglasses hid the lady's eyes, sitting upon a pert, attentive nose. The pout lips were open slightly over sharp, white teeth in a sort of endearing gape.

As Gabrielle quit the highway and left it behind her, she could see the handsome Tudor house she had bought long ago. The roof was painted a glittering green in the half-day, half-night twilight. The windows sparkled from the last dying rays of the sun, letting white, lacy curtains be seen.

Gabrielle watched as the orange light faded to blue-black and the moderately cool temperature turned a hollow cold. Pulling the denim jacket tighter around her, she got out of the car with clacking heels and whispering hair before shaking the sunglasses into a slender hand. Her piercing, lantern eyes were like two new suns, only coloured blue.

There was another car making its way towards the highway. It was a white Chevy, and a brunette was sitting in the black leather seat. The headlights passed by slowly and Gabrielle looked away, feeling scorn and irritation. She caught sight of herself in the rearview mirror of her car, looking upon a face that had stirred many hearts, yet had turned cold and haunted from recent events. Gabrielle continued to gaze at it, her mother's kind face beginning to gaze back at her. A searing pain awoke in a heart turned hollow and everything was blinded by tears. Taking a rattling breath, she lowered her hand into her handbag, feeling her fingers brush against cold mortar until they came across the smooth reassurance of her cell-phone.

By then, the white Chevy had passed by and headed out onto the highway. Gabrielle watched for a moment uninterestedly before flipping open the phone and pressing in the numbers of Ryan's cell. She raised it to her ear almost hesitantly, but her chilling eyes remained resolute.

The sound of a call being received, then the sudden, soft breathing of another person knotted Gabrielle's stomach before the ice inside her melted into suppressed tears. The quiet, withdrawn voice that made her feel an enormous affection spoke.

"Hello?"

A sudden wind came up, so bitterly cold, that Gabrielle breathed in sharply. She raised her free hand to her hair and ran it through the silken material. Her voice trembled as she spoke.

"Ryan, it's me. Gabrielle."

His response was quick and eager, almost anxious. "Gabby? Jesus - are you alright? What's wrong?"

He always knew there was something wrong. He was magical to Gabrielle - a miracle. She had always wanted him to herself so badly, yet Monica had always prevented that. Adrenaline squirted into her veins at this single thought, yet the pain in her heart intensified and she felt a tear escape her right eye, leaving a stinging trail down her cheek.

"They're dead. Sally and Gareth - they're both dead. It's over - it's f-fucking over." The words sped out of her mouth like cold steel, slicing through her lips. She shut her eyes tightly against the frosty air and wondered how such pain was possible - how it existed, deep in the depths of her frozen heart.

"You and Monica got out of it alright, right? Right?" He sounded like he was expecting the worst, forcing Gabrielle's breath to trap in her throat in shame and guilt. The bag on her arm seemed to become heavier, as if taunting her fear, her pain - her love. She felt more tears slither down her cheeks, but her voice remained cool and impassive.

"Monica got caught by the cops. I ran, she hesitated - so she got caught."

Ryan swore softly. As Gabrielle kept a painful silence, he spoke again.

"I'll come over to your house," came the clumsy words, awkward and filled with terrior at its own deed. Gabrielle felt fear clutch at her heart and let out a sharp breath.

"No - no, I'll come over to the hotel, Ryan. Stay put - please."

Gabrielle's voice strained heavily and Ryan seemed to become still on the other end. Finally he asked, "Are you alright, Gab?" There was pain in his voice, like the pain in Gabrielle's heart.

"I'm fine. I'm perfectly fine, Ryan. See you later."

And why her voice seemed so far away as she spoke, Gabrielle didn't know.

---

That's half of Chapter 2. I'll post the other half soon.

Mairi · 12-07-2007, 08:54 PM

Nice! I liked the prologue, though I agreed that it was a little short. You have an interesting interplay of human emotion and conflict building here. Keep it up--I for one am most interested in seeing where this is going!

Mairi

GabrielleCornwell · 12-08-2007, 05:07 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Mairi

Nice! I liked the prologue, though I agreed that it was a little short. You have an interesting interplay of human emotion and conflict building here. Keep it up--I for one am most interested in seeing where this is going!

Mairi

Thanks, Mairi.

I'll be posting up the second half of Chapter 2 tomorrow, maybe. Once again, thanks for the comment!

GabrielleCornwell · 12-08-2007, 06:22 PM

Here's a bit more of of Chapter 2, since the second half was still a bit too long to post in one go:

She was now inside the bath-tub, her hair soaked to its roots, almost perfectly golden in the rich lights of the bathroom, painted a warm yellow. The hot water didn't get rid of the cold inside her, though it did the cold outside. Where the tears had run remained sticky paths that felt frozen on her cheeks, straining everytime she widened her mouth in any way.

Gabrielle was planning to head out to the hotel at eight - giving enough time for her to get a wash and a quick meal. Her clothes were laid out on her bed, a white turtleneck with a pair of skinny jeans, and a warm, fleece jacket coloured a chocolate-brown waiting to be put on afterwards.

Gabrielle closed her eyes before lowering her head below the water. Her lungs filled up and her nose hurt with breathing in the hot liquid, but she remained underwater for as long as she could. Soon, fireworks made a spectacle beneath her burning eyelids and quickly Gabrielle broke the surface, a painful gasp ripping past her throat as her hair clung to every part of skin available.

Depression wasn't new to the girl - she suffered from it almost daily, dreaming of what she could have been had she not changed so much. As a child, she had been undeniably beautiful with curly tufts of wispy, yellow hair and perfectly blue eyes, her lips always that shocking pink. She could have been a model had she not grown skinny and gangly, her hair darker, her lips paler - she had been robbed of a nonexistent beauty. Of perfection. And Gabrielle didn't know why.

Her mother, Pascale, had always meant the world to Gabrielle. She was what Gabrielle wasn't - perfect in looks, selfless, firm - a perfect French angel. They had always conversed in that liquid language without stopping, always shared secrets...

Gabrielle got out of the water and shivered as she merely stood and stared at the disturbed substance. She missed France - she missed Calais. She missed Pascale and she missed her father, Gregory. She missed being naive and dependent and weak.

Gabrielle went to her bedroom to dress before going out to stand in front of the mirror. No more make-up hid what truly lay upon her face. There was a cold, haughty look in her clear, blue eyes that shone like eerie lanterns despite the bright lights, and her lips were pout and very pale, barely having any colour at all. Her skin was naturally white and unhealthy, and she was naturally so thin. But as she gazed upon her reflection, Gabrielle could tell that she lacked so much - too much to be considered beautiful. She could be easily overlooked. That thought made her eyes glitter bitterly before she grabbed a towel to dry her wet, copper-streaked hair, feeling more tears form as she did so.

Monica had been different - she had been lovely and voluptuous with her glossy, black hair and cool, brown eyes. Her skin had been a fine pale-brown and -

Gabrielle cut her thoughts, almost panic-stricken, as her eyes crept towards the livingroom door. For a moment, she felt a terrible pain and remorse, but it was immediately replaced by a cold, cruel hate that clawed deeper than her scarred heart.

The half-French femme dropped the towel and let her glistening hair hang limply down her shapely shoulders. She took calm, deliberate steps to the livingroom and stood staring at the silken, beige couch that stood in the centre of the floor. A young, beautiful woman with brown skin and shoulder-length black hair lay upon it, long-lashed eyes closed, dark lips parted slightly in an everlasting gasp. She would have looked normal had she not had dried blood blossoming from the depths of her glossy hair and ranging down her right cheek in a grotesque path, with her skull enormously deformed. The pallor of her face was pale and deathly, and not a breath escaped from her.

Gabrielle stared and stared, her eyes getting colder, her lips thinner, her fists clenched. With a dry cough, she turned away from the terrible sight and let her eyes land on the unlit fireplace. Once more she stared, but this time her eyes lit up cruelly as an equally cruel idea planted its roots into her mind. And as this happened, an unearthly laugh ripped itself from Gabrielle's throat, echoing through the silent house.

---

Cheers.

Sekaya · 12-08-2007, 07:59 PM

yup, this is really improving in writing.

The opening description of Gabrielle was great-- I could really see that you had fun *finally* writing her ;p lol!

Not much else I can say at the moment. I didn't catch anything, but I'm tired, so I wouldn't be surprised if I missed something.

Overall, I like the opening description of her!

-Rachel.

GabrielleCornwell · 12-08-2007, 08:09 PM

Heh, thanks, Rach....me love writing about Gabrielle. She's so....real.

Thanks for the comment!

One_Who_Writes_Fantasy · 12-16-2007, 07:04 PM

This is really good, and I enjoyed it!

Heh.... Cox is my last name.... : )

Fictionfreak · 12-17-2007, 12:03 PM

Very good writing. Excellent writing infact. I was very interested from the beginning (and not because of the babe in your sig. lol)

The twist at the end of chapter two gave me chills. I was actually scared, that girl with the haunting eyes just freaks me out.

I did notice a possible hole in the plot however. Because Ryan could easily find out if the assassination was successful simply by turning on the TV or maybe even walking through the city. He would also be able to tell that Monica was indeed not captured. If he has a phone, and if he does live near the city, then he has connections. And it makes me wonder why he wouldn't have a TV. This suddenly makes your story a little unrealistic. This is any easy hole to cover though, just make him live out there somewhere, and strip him from a TV.

GabrielleCornwell · 12-19-2007, 11:26 PM

Thanks for the comments/critique, guys.

I'm glad ole Gabby's having the effect I wanted her to have.

As for that Ryan part - I was actually making it that easy for him to find out so that he would find out...which'll leave to some complications in the future, of course. I wholeheartedly understand that there're some unrealistic parts in Killer, though...as I was pointed out outside of here as well. *coughs* So yes, I'll have to tweak around some stuff.

I'll post up Chapter 3 soon. Thanks so much for the comments/critique.

P.S. For those wondering why I said Chapter 3 when I said I haven't finished Chapter 2 yet, it's because Chapter 3 turned out to be too short for my liking, so I'm taking the last bit of Chapter 2 and stuffing it into Chapter 3. Heh, cheers.

~GC