He's very secretive. Always a private man who thinks before he acts but sometimes....sometimes he just can't help himself. A note on the bulleton board reads.

To Who It May Concern:
 Please stay away from the backyard. Certain electrical activities have
gotten out of hand and are a danger to public safety. I must also request
that you stay out of the ( Read more... )

Curious- it was all very curious how there had been a height to his career as Tesla's assistant to being hastily left in the lurch and now once again old names were popping up in papers and stream of daily conversation. Angier (there were others besides the one he had come to know...a family?), Tesler: rather than be haunted he had decided to seek ( Read more... )

The big night had finally arrived. The Masion's small theatre was packed to capacity, people standing in the aisles to get a view of the stage. It was almost time for the curtain to rise for this once-in-a-lifetime performance ( Read more... )

Two seperate notes are pinned to the noticeboard asking to speak with Rupert Angier and Alfred Borden and saying to contact Murata Ken.

Murata will be waiting here for their replies.

He politely knocks on the door, his clothes are immaculate. He is tall, a little over six feet, and guant but has a warm but solitary radiance in him. Outside there are many carts and boxes. He has arrived at the mansion hearing that there is ample space. He is in his mid forties and speaks softly with a Serbian accent. He gazes outside and he ( Read more... )

"Please, you have to help me!" Angier cries, desperation in his voice.

"He's taken my little girl. Please, anyone, her name is Lydia, she looks like my child, she's just a little girl... Borden, Alfred Borden is the man's name." The man has always been a performer, but this is no act ( Read more... )

She's a most magnificent child of perhaps seven years old. Her dark curls are pulled into lengths of ribbons and she's dressed finely, toting a china-doll with a hand painted face in her little arms. Perhaps anyone who has seen or knows The Great Danton, Rupert Angier, might recognize her eyes, her smile, the simple composition of her body ( Read more... )

Every magician needs an assistant. And so, here she is ( Read more... )

A handsome young man, thirty-something years in age strides in with impeccable posture, holding himself high with a confidence that might almost be arrogance. Almost. His hair is dark, his features strong and his manner of dress slightly more expensive than most men of his profession in turn-of-the-century London. His clothes are heavy, warm, and ( Read more... )