BuffyPunk Adventures in SanFran District A novel by Norman J. Harman Jr. Copyright (c) 2003 by Norman J. Harman Jr. This work is licensed under the Creative Commons NonCommercial-ShareAlike License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/nc-sa/1.0/ or send a letter to Creative Commons, 559 Nathan Abbott Way, Stanford, California 94305, USA. -- -- Author's Preface BuffyPunk was a campaign setting I made up for the "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" RPG. I created a bit of "background" non-player characters(NPCs), settings, history, plot twists, etc. and four friends created characters but we never got around to playing. Most of it is in my mind, some you can see here [nothing there should be a spoiler] "http://friendorfoe.com/buffy/". Along comes nanowrimo and said friends convince me to base the great norm novel on this campaign (They're all BtVS freaks and I'm afraid they're hoping my stories will partly fill the terrible void left in all our lives when the series ended.) It is easier to write a book than gamemaster a RPG in that it is much simpler to get the characters to do the exciting things. In an RPG, the characters are other humans, and it is a very thin line between allowing them free-will and keeping the story moving/fun. With a book the author, unlike a GM, is responsible for everything, all of the plot, all of the dialog, all of the emoutions and goals of every character. But, most of all I'm missing the immeadiate feedback / synergy a good group of gamers creates. The original layout of the information that is becomming this book was a grand story arch, the "season plot." With several subplots, red herrings, and clues to (hopefully) lead the characters to a final climatic battle with the "big bad". The subplots are seperated into "episodes". Which, in an RPG, would be one or two nights worth of gamming. I had intended to turn each "episode" into a chapter. But, those plans seem to be out the window after writing part of the first chapter. Ah well, let's see how it turns out. Special thanks (and apologies if your character doesn't turn out the way you had invisioned) to: Angie Locke aka Miakoda Lequoia Bob Goffin aka Mulletov Viva La Gunderson Jeff Holland aka Manta Ray Lopez aka Mannie aka Ray Nannatte Mickle aka Celestine Pearl and for very cutest cute things ever: www.petoftheday.com Book in progress may be viewed here http://freakaccident.com/peeps/njharman/writing/BuffyPunk.txt Author may be bitched at here njharman@notanothercorporation.com [Draft Notice: anything in square brackets is a note to myself and generally indicates something I want to go back and change but that required research or I had a "block" and didn't want to get bogged down only 28 days left ya know!] -- -- Prolog (for fans of the show) The last several TV episodes did not happen. Let's just pretend "The First" never happened. Buffy and gang did eventually take the Sunnyvale hellmouth off-line. It's nice and peacefull there now. Here is what did happen Buffy Summers was and remains the only slayer to have "retired". She was absolved of her slayer duties by The Reformed Council. Together, Buffy and Faith kicked so much demon butt that having a slayer making babies and being a soccer mom was doable. After many years of peacefull homelife Buffy died of old age surrounded by friends and family, awwwwh. Faith, dead by age 25 just like any slayer not named "Buffy". Still, her death took three "full" demons, and two of them didn't survive to gloat over it. Willow's magical powers ranked her with the greatest of mankind's practitioners The likes of Merlin, Akhnaten, and Lilith. Responsible for numerous Earth altering events; such as preventing several wars, stopping various and sundry demonic "end-the-world" plots and repulsing an interdimensional invasion. Throughout Willow remained anonymous. Always on the sidlines, always allowing others the credit. One feat undeniably her's is the perfection of techomancy or the use of magic with technology primarily the casting of spells over, through and on computer and communication networks. After Buffy's retirement Willow became even more reclusive and cast powerfull wards to ensure her privacy. Many claim to have seen Willow or to have recognized her handiwork but the only verifyable appearence is at Buffy's wake. Where, interestingly, Willow's physical or magical prowess showed little diminshment despite her qualifying for the "silver discount". Spike. Well he didn't burn up in flames of martydom. Never accepted by the "good guys" and no longer evil he led a lonely and troubled existance. Some things never change, eh?. Spike battled many a demonic nasty alongside the slayers until Buffy retired. He even had a short fling as a daytime soaps star. He was the prime figure in putting down Angelicus after Angel lost his soul yet again. Sadly, Buffy never forgave him for dusting her first love and he became outwardly bitter and spitefull to slayers and scoobies. Spike crashed Buffy's wake were his drunken rantings forced Willow to throw down with the magical asskicking. After that, little is known of Spike's wanderings. The Reformed Council believes he has finally been put to rest. Giles led the reformation of the Watcher's Council. It is now called The Reformed Council and is not as bastardly. Made into a vampire by Angelicus, killed shortly thereafter by a slayer. -- -- SanFran District, Greater Bay Area - 2103 [ insert map of SanFran District. Draft here "http://friendorfoe.com/buffy/SFDist.jpg" ] -- -- Glossary: Alcatraz Island: Seized by the IAT Nov 2069, the 100th year anniversary of the first indian reoccupation. Since the shake and burn IAT has heavily fortifed the island. It is a no-go zone for non-indians. Tresspassers are killed dead by organized, trained, buffed warrior braves. Blimpnet: Common name for the GBA local wireless network. In SFDist, amoung others, the network's primary backbone consists of tethered blimps supported by numerous land based repeaters. Buffed: Seriously well-armed GBA: Greater Bay Area. Independent quasi-citystate in northern California encompasesing most of The Peninsula, East Bay, and South Bay. Formed out of the people who had not abandoned the Bay Area before and who lived through the shake and burn; neo-hippies, anarchists, liberterians, cypherpunks, survivalists, technopagens, cultists, crusties, crunchies, FOB's, freaks, and a medley of other sub-cultures. They share common attributes of DIY, freedom, independence, multi-culturalism, and equality. It is hemmed on the east by the Coastal Hills Range, on the north by El Cerrito, and includes all of San Jose to the south. These are not fixed, recognized boundries. They are simply the places in which more people claim to be part of the GBA rather than part of something else. Within this loosly defined area are many large and small tracts that are uncontrolled, controlled by other entities(IAT, Corporations, Government, Independent Townships, etc.) or are just not fit for continuous habitation. The GBA is divided into districts. Each district has its own locally elected council, militia(s), and is largely self-governing but all subscribe to The Universal Declaration of Human Rights. The GBA itself has an overall council elected by its citizens and a "militia" which is more of a standing para-military force than the district militias. Handie: Phone, radio, computer. Portable, fuelcell powered, wireless connection to the blimpnet. Available to all GBA citizens. Only the technophobic or truly paranoid are without one. HIBH: Hotel International Boarding House, small hostel in SanFran District, GBA. Often pronounced "Hibbie" IAT: Indians of All Tribes. Federation of numerous northern california Native American Tribes. JB/JBH: Julia Butterfly High School the larger of two grade 7-12 schools in SFDist. (the) Lev: The magnetic levitation trains that form the core of SFDist's transportation network. Miwok (Angel) Island: (Re)occupied and developed by the IAT starting in the summer of 2072. It provides "grow-food" land, living space, and is the epicenter of tribal life for the IAT. Non-tribesmen are unwelcommed but not killed on sight. no-go/no-go zone: Area that is not safe to enter. Reasons for this include it's toxic, structurally unstable, or the people there spread SDS. SDS: Sudden Death Syndrome. An affliction suffered by those who habitually piss-off the wrong people. SFDist: SanFran District, a "political" subdivision of the GBA. 132,000 or so people live, work and make babies in SFDist the acknowledged asspit of the GBA. (the) shake and burn: Massive earthquake and ensuing riots of 2070 that more or less destroyed the Bay Area. uberkid: Fairly common mutation affecting 1-2% of recent births. They are super-intelligent child prodigies whose accelerated developement leads to accelerated death. None have lived past their 26th birthday. -- -- Chapter One - The Tea Party [ insert pictures of Queen Pickles and Mr. Shuffles, here "http://friendorfoe.com/buffy/Queen Pickles.jpg" and here "http://friendorfoe.com/buffy/Mr. Shuffles.jpg" ] Great old pines whispered to the wind as it blew on its way in from the sea. Their delicate needles took only what they needed from the ever giving sun. In turn providing to the creatures of the woods what they needed. Creatures like Owl who today looked down on a creature of an altogether different sort, not at all common in these woods. A pale, little human girl of no more than eight years. Getting up, the girl smoothed her pretty white dress, with its frills and cute pink belt that matched the ribbon in her blonde hair. Her blue eyes sparkled with satisfaciton at the splendid arrangement of saucers, cups, tasty morsels, steaming tea, soymilk, cubed surgar, napkins, and Wendy's favorite, tiny little spoons whose silver finish twinkled in the sunlight that managed to push it's way through the fresh smelling pines. In the center a simple cream colored vase demurred to the beauty of a single daisy. Freshly grown by the the senior biology class, each petal a diffrent unnaturally vibrant hue. Another of Wendy's favorites. Mr. Delgado had brought it, just for her. He was to be seated in the place of honor directly opposite the supreme happy place, Wendy's chair. Now, as too often, he looked protectively towards Wendy. She brushed a pale lock of hair from her eyes and favored him with a reassuring little smile. Wendy thought him, as most people, too simple, but he was nice and had taken care of her so she tolerated him. More than that, she guessed she liked him. Yes, definately she liked him or else he would not have been invited to her tea-party. Mr. Delgado removed black wool hat, revealing his short cut but handsome, dark and stiff head of hair. Greying at the temples in the most gentlemanly of manners. He bowed deeply, returning Wendy's smiled greeting and placed his hat and rested his cane carefully on the picnic table edge. He hadn't even completed removing his fine, grey, gloves before he attempted to snatch one of the buttery baked goodies Wendy had so precisely stacked into an equalateral pyramid. She doubted he even noticed the geometric equation she had formulated on the spotless white tablecloth. She knew his mathmatical apptitude was insufficient to comprehend it. No matter, a quick eep and stern look from Wendy put a stop to that illmannered pilfering. Mr. Delgado would have to sit, patiently, until Wendy said it was time to have cookies. What could he have been thinking? The tea hasn't even been poured yet! But, she would have to see to that quickly, her guests were becomming inpaitent. Queen Pickles was chewing on her napkin! With the salty sea-wind gusting not everything could be perfect. She sighed, accepting that her white dress was as smooth and straight as it possibly could be. She quickly poured Mr. Delgado and herself each a steaming, rich brown cup of [dragon] tea. Then even more quickly produced a shiny red cherry tomato from some hidden place of her dress. Queen Pickles ceased her unseemly napkin chewing and fixated on the faboulous treat waved infront of her. The attention was soon rewarded and she was sloppily and noiseily in tasty tomato bliss. Giggling, Wendy provided several bright green leaves of lettuce to her next guest, the distinguised Mr. Shuffles. Nearly as distingushed as Mr. Delgado for he also had a fine hat, lacking only the cane and greying hair. Mr. Shuffles' furry coat was a pristine white, as white as the table cloth or Wendy's dress, save for one black splotch on his left ear. Wendy relished order and perfection, but understood, even embraced that chaos was part of the cosmos and found Mr. Shuffles splotch to not be an offront, but rather a nice variation, example of diversity. Diversity was one of those few things Delgado had understood before Wendy and she was thankfull to have learned it from him. Unlike, Queen Pickles, Mr. Shuffles was very cautious; he had to sniff left and sniff right before taking the first fantastic bite of lettuce. Also, distinctly, unlike Pickles, he was quiet and patient. Queen Pickles was already nudging Wendy for another sweet treat. A blue, fluffy, vaguely dog shaped ball was also in attendence. It looked rather scragely, more from old age than from lack of care. Its recently and carefully shinned name tag read "Snookums". There were no place settings for it, afterall, it was stuffed with fluff. It didn't even have any animatronics. Wendy wouldn't tolerate animatronics, she disliked fake things, things that pretend to be alive but aren't. But, there was a time when Snookums was all she had. So, he would always have some part to play, however small. Owl had to admit that this was a very pleasent party and the nice little girl was definately of the white side of things. Even the older one, the man with his naughty cane, was old in skin and body only, not mind. His heart was young and white. Despite all this, Owl couldn't very well leave such a plump looking rabbit as Mr. Shuffles siting, happily munching lettuce right underneath his branch. He was after all, Owl. So, with one final twist around of his neck to ensure Crow or Fox weren't waiting to spring some trick or trap, Owl silently spread great brown wings and hopped off his piney perch. Slowly, (to Owl these moments of swooping passed slower than any other) without a sound and with just the tinest twist of feathers Owl silently banked wide around the other side of the gathering. Gliding along a path angled just so. With outstretched talons he would snatch that tasty rabbit, hat and all, and be back up into the pines safe from Fox, but still needing to keep both large eyes on lookout for Crow. Time eeked onwards, Owl flexed the fingers of his talons, each in turn. He thought "If I had lips like that noisy hedgehog I would be licking them just as enthusiastically". Uh, oh. The prey's nose is twitching, he knows... Mr. Shuffles stopped chewing his scrumptous lettuce, he had that feeling. The feeling that only the hunted get, the feeling that only the hunters give. Without even looking up he hopped once, getting all the way onto the table. Then turning three quarters of the way around pushed as hard as his back legs could be pushed. On the way to the ground, something yanked off the stoopid hat he had to wear and his left ear stung painfully. He heard Wendy screech and call out his name. But, there was no time for any of that. Mr. Shuffles was busy executing his famous "Hippity Hop This way an That" manuever. He might be getting on in the years but no nasty grabby was going to get him today. With the lingering taste of lettuce in his mouth, he zigged, he zagged, he *hopped!* Off into the trees he darted. But, these tall pines were no good, no friend of rabbits. A nice, thick, covering underbrush is what Mr. Shuffles sought now. Sniffing, oh what tastey aromas floated in the air, but Mr. Shuffles was strong, he percervered and hopped towards the tangy scent he knew meant ferns and grasses. Soon the tinge of fern overpowered all other smells. He was close. Finally his weak eyes caught sight of a green mass, dark and protective. With a final leap of lupine proprotions Mr. Shuffles was there, safe, invisible to the world and all mean things. Nothing could possibly search him out in his unfindable sanctuary. Twitching his wiskers, it didn't even smell too bad here, and despite being so floppy he knew his ears were good and they detected nothing, nothing except those foot steps, big human foots. He thought "It's Wendy, I'm sure with a faboulously tastey carrot to lure me out." Mr. Shuffles was of stout will but no rabbit worthy of the name could stand up to the crushing temptation of juicy, orange, delichousnous. Out he lept and immeadiately remembered that he forgot to lead with his nose and sniff out the situation. He was completely out from under the ferns' safety, it was dark, it was cold, and he could not smell even a hint of carrot. The footsteps had ceased and he neither heard nor smelled Wendy. Mr. Shuffles was scared. So scared he started to shake and forgot to hippity hop away and a hand grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. A large rough hand, much bigger than Wendy's, that squeezed him meanly. Rapidly, fluidly, with evil grace the clawed hand brought it's catch into view. Still shaking Mr. Shuffles fainted of fear at the fanged visage that greeted him. <-> Wanda startled at the prone figure's sudden jolt and grimmaced expression. The figure was a fine young woman, strong, beautifull. Her long, braided hair was arranged according to custom along either side of her light brown cheeks it reached well past the medicine bag nesteled between her breasts. She lay on a large white, grey and brown wolf skin. The great skin of a pack leader. A friend of the tribe whose wish upon entering the spirit realm for the final time was to remain, in this world, close to the tribe that had protected his family. The same Miwok tribe Wanda had been forced out of. At times she sensed in Miakoda, the unconscious woman before her, a similar longing, no it was a need, a need to follow a different course than that the tribe hopes for. Wanda wished her easy passage in whatever path this young persons journey to adulthood took. She was wise enough to understand that that journey must be self-directed. You can't push a spirit ahead nor can you pull one along behind. At most you can show there is a path to take, that there is a journey worth finishing. Wanda supposed the tribal elders knew she understood this much and that is why when they sent their most gifted young to study at JB they were boarded at her hostel. She was sure the elders knew a great deal about her, they were elders after all. It was just someone like Wanda, someone who had made Wanda's choices, did not fit into the Miwok community. At least, she thought, I'm not ostrisized, boarding these students keeps me a little envolved. This semester there were three including Miakoda, the oldest, who was presently undertaking a vision quest. An old and skilled medicine women, Thunderfeather, was their official guardian. But, she was very nice to Wanda and allowed her privilages, such as being Miakoda's waking world [anchor]. Privalages whose existance wouldn't even be talked about let alone granted to a non-tribe member. Yeah, Wanda consoled herself, the elders understood much more than they revealed, there was deep wisdom in that. Happy, she again focused on the rythmic thumping of her hands. Slowly, consistantly, left then right, on the elk hide drum, a powerfull totem of Thunderfeather's, lent to her for this occasion. She hadn't stopped beating during her brief mental excursion. She mustn't stop, keeping rythim with Miakoda's beat, keeping her spirit "self" connected to this world. This was Wanda's sole and sacred duty during this spirirt world journey. Whatever might be troubling the young women, it, like all things ultimately, was something Miakoda must face herself. <-> "Oh no!" Wendy thought, that naughty owl scared Mr. Shuffles. Scared Queen Pickles too, but she had sense enough to hide under the table. No doubt, curled up tight, spines all out. With a quick twist she threw her tea cup up at the owl but it was already lost to sight, even hers. The delicate cup shattered agaisnt a nearby trunk. Pieces of it's intricant pattern of flowers and swans fell feather like, end over end, bouncing softly in the bed of dry red needles that covered the ground. Wendy looked down and expressed no puzzlement at seeing one very orange carrot and one sharp wooden stick, a stake? Without much effort, but with much detriment to the smoothness of her dress Wendy forward flipped out of her chair, over the table and was off running after Mr. Shuffles. On the table only the stake remained, distictly out of place on the white cloth amongst the teacups and spilt sugar cubes. Wendy's patent leather shoes kicked up pine needles with each long stride. She utterly ignored Mr. Delgado's warnings, pleadings, and lastly his admoshments to stay. Her pretty pink ribbon caught on a branch and was yanked from her hair. It swung briefly in the wind before Delgado retrieved it. Folding it neatly, he placed it in his vest pocket. Checking his watch he was extremly alarmed to find it suddenly after dark. Foregoing his previous plan to retrieve Queen Pickles he went immeadiately for his cane. He must locate Wendy, the Queen would just have to manage on her own. Before covering half the distance back to the shambles that was so recently a pleasent tea-party, Mr. Delgado fell face first onto the ground with a large welt swelling on the back of his head. A black gloved hand reached down to roll him over. After brushing away pine needles stuck to Delgado's cheek the hand reached past his unconscious face to pluck a small white triangleish shape from the ground. It's white ceramic contrasted sharply with the dark leather of the fingerless glove. Above, Owl hooted, but the owner of the hand paid no attention. Seemingly fixated on the fine green and red tracings criss-crossing the piece. Finally, he made sense of the incomplete pattern, recongizing it for a slightly abstract flower, one whose name he could never get straight. Determinedly the fingers of the hand closed crushingly over the teacup shard. Fine white powder sifted from the glove, dusting Mr. Delgado's face and chest causing an involuntery sneeze. In response for this, the gloved figure kicked him in the ribs. Wendy stopped, her blonde hair did not and fell in a total mess all over her face. With a hefty puff from her lower lip she blew the hair clear from her right eye. Forgetting it was only a tasty carrot, she held it out infront of her like a weapon. The pointy end towards the trenchcoated figure that had made her stop. She didn't recognize this one but she knew the type, heavy boots, lots of black, lots of leather. Not much trouble usually, but this one held Mr. Shuffles. Wendy hoped, no she was sure he was still alive, he just had to be. She was preparing a suitably threating threat when Mr. Trenchcoat burst out laughing, a full head tilting back laugh. Abruptly he ceased all chuckling and brought his head foward, yellow eyes fixed on Wendy, on what she had in her hand. "Um, " looking away to the side momentarly as if eye contact with Wendy was bearable only in short doses. "Lil miss, have you forgot? Carrots, do jack all, you need a wood stick". There was laugh from a new figure just walking up from the left of the faced-off duo. Similar in dress to the first except for the classic full-length black trench. Instead his fashion statement was fingerless gloves. Leather and black of course. His laugh was far from similar. Gutteral, the kind of laugh that only comes from being raised in "Bumfuck" Nebraska or "Asswipe" Missisippi. This figure was one Wendy knew too well. "Uh huh, get it boss? Leading with carrot, hiting with stick, huh huh". "Shut up Cleetus." "He's right ya know", and to Cleetus "Thanks for reminding me." "Huh, what?". But, by the time Cleetus had managed to express his confusion at the rapid repartee. (Actually, moon phases are bit too quick for him.) Wendy had let go of the carrot and was lifting her left leg straight up infront. With her shiny black shoe far over her head she grabbed a wood stake that was strapped to the back of her thigh. While her leg was on the way up she had started toppling forward and continued this motion into a kartwheel. After one revolution she endend up in the splits; her left leg straight behind, her right leg with toes expertly pointed, right arm perfectly parrall. Both leg and arm facing straight at Mr. Trenchcoat. A dumb look, one she would have expected Cleetus to wear, was on his face. The stake, propelled with all her forward momentum, sat buried more than halfway into his left breast. Behind her the carrot hit the ground and with a small puff he, trenchcoat and all, turned to dust. Wendy was up on her feet, not even pausing to brush off the dirt and needles her gymnastics had plauged her with. She was too far away to catch Mr. Shuffles but he was fat and had thick fur. The short fall to the ground was the least amount of trauma he had recently endured. Cleetus was dumb but he knew when to run. By the time Wendy had ensured Mr. Shuffles well being he was long gone. Ewwh! There was slobber all over Mr Shuffles ear, appearently that nasty trenchcoat had been busy licking off all the blood from Mr. Shuffles talon wound. Back at the picnic area everything had been smashed, her best table cloth was in shreds. But, it was what had been scratched into the table that made Wendy burst into tears. "We gots D. who dummest now", signed Cleetus Still crying Wendy picked up Delgado's hat and found the royal hidey spot. Queen Pickles didn't know what to do, with Wendy so upset, so she rubbed her tiny wet nose on Wendy's wrist. It helped a little <-> Tears where rolling down Miakoda's cheeks, gathering into little puddles before they were absorbed by her hair. She was stirring now, returning to the living world. Wanda did not slow the solem drumbeat, she would continue with it for several moments longer, until Miakoda was fully conscious and not before Thunderfeather had confirmed she was still and only just a young woman. Thunderfeather was busy cracking the windows and pulling back the heavy drapes. Soon cool evening sea air was replacing the scented smoke that had filled the small room. Wanda breathed deeply, she thought the new air smelled like moonlight. She knew the scented smoke was harmless certainly less damaging than many things she had enhaled. But, it still made her unconfortable. Perhaps it was too much of an "in your face" reminder of things she could never have, things she had chosen to give up. Thunderfeather chanted in beat to the thumping drum. An old Miwok detection magic, much older than any white settlement in this bay. One of many magics that might have been lost during the dark times before the shake and burn if it were not for some truly brave and wise ancestors. "Miakoda Lequoia is only herself, it is safe to rest now. You should be very proud of the role you performed Wanda Jennings." "I am only honored to have taken part." But, Wanda was also very happy to quit after three hours of non-stop drumming. Miakoda sat up carefully. She wasn't groggy, but the time after a dream quest was a period of conteplation. Rapid movements did not seem natural. It was cool and Miakoda pulled the wolf skin around her shoulders. Things had many uses and it is right to use things fully. One of the many lessons the elders and every adult tribe member was constantly pressing on Miakoda. She appreciated them, they were good lessons, but she wondered if there weren't other lessons. Ones even the elders did not know. Arranged around her in no particular order or pattern where some of her favorite items; her tools, a few books, a well worn doll, a lock of Running Buck's black hair. And things to keep her safe and guide her in the other worlds; the wolf skin, a few ancestor bones, her medicine bag, small clay platters on which Thunderfeather had burnt various woods and herbs, whose smoke was rapidly clearing from the room. Things were as she remembered them. Which was always a relief. As a child around the campfires she had listened to the warnings and tales of how Fox could lead the careless back to the wrong waking world. Luckily she had not felt nor seen Fox this quest. Although, she knew that was not gurantee and not to trust her vision senses. At her feet sat Wanda in her blue leotards and hot pink top. With sparkley makeup covering her cheeks and arms and eyeshadow a shade brighter than her leotards thickly spread all the way to her temples. She was crosslegged, cradling a whale verteabre, covered in elk hide, the strongest drum in the whole tribe, she had overheard Thunderfeather say and had no reason to doubt that. Wanda had just stopped drumming and was smiling at her in that concerned way that always made Miakoda feel safe and good inside. "That must have been a powerfull quest. It is rare for the visions to intrude into our world." In answer to Miakoda's confused look, Thunderfeather continued "You were crying and there were other signs of your experience in the spirit realms." With this she looked towards the now silent drummer. Wanda realized she was referring to Miakoda's jolts and grimaces. As their eyes lingered Wanda felt warmth and respect from the older woman for being a resolute beatkeeper despite the difficult and troubling vision quest. Such an acknowledgement meant a great deal to Wanda and reinforced Thunderfeather's ealier praise. "I'm confused, especially towards the end things became very unclear. There was a long time of darkness. I don't remember or even know why I am crying." She was perhaps fifteen or sixteen, Miakoda's voice matched her face, soft and sweet. It tenor[?] carried the urgency and eagerness of youth but her words were certain, confident even for one so gifted with vision, a future tribal medicine woman. "Be patient Miakoda. This was a deep journey it will take time to fully understand everything, perhaps somethings will never be known." Thunderfeather touched the control panel that would activate the electrolumisents and slowy raise the room's ambient light. It had gotten quite dark after she extinguished the small sacred fires. Oceanside's low clouds and perpetual fog in this season robbed what little moonlight might have made it through the large bay windows. "But this was different. I rode with Owl for a time, but he never talked to me. No one talked to me. I had no control, it was like I was passivly viewing someone else's quest." Despite the tribal layout and decorations she liked the room she shared with Thunderfeather. The medicinewoman tended many plants nutritive, medicinal and spiritial. Most were in the Hibbie's greenhouse, a few very special ones were in this room but it was the giant saltwater tank glowing faintly green from the brightining electroluminesents that most often captured Miakoda's curosity and imagination. In addition to the sea plants Thunderfeather made use of, the tank was home to several species of sea creatures. "To complete the circle of life, a natural balance is required." she had explained. Ms. Blackburn, Miakoda's biology teacher, would say something about ecosystems and food chains. This remindeded her of another adult pushing philosphisms at her, an old man practicing Tai-Chi in the park, "There is one way, but many paths." Yeah, yeah, sure. But what should *I* do. "Very interesting. Remember you are not the only visitor to the spirit realm. "We all take part. The plants, the animals, even those of us who think we do not." Another glance towards Wanda but she busy tucking a blanket around Miakoda and missed it. "Tell us who you saw." "That is why I'm so confused, it was two pale-faces from school. One of my teachers, Mr. Delgado and Wendy. I know her too, she's an uberkid. I think she is his niece. They were having a picnic. I don't think it was *in* the spirit world either, I couldn't feel anything. It looked like Pine Grove in the park. There were a rabbit and a tiny hedgehog but they wouldn't talk to me, no one talked to me. I think they were Wendy's waking world pets. Owl tried to catch the rabbit of course. I seperated from Owl and that was when things became less clear." A sea slug was probing the algee laden water. With very little information it knew the role it should play. But, with her visions, the elders constant lessons, the non-tribal knowldge she has aquired at JBH, everything Miakoda still couldn't see the answer. [Blah! ain't liking direction need to finnish, in Helsinki] -- -- Chapter Two - Your cordially invited to ... Soft music played, a few strums of a harp, a twiddle of piccalo. Slowy coalescing into a gentle melody as the volume increased. Then Glenda the Good Witch of the North whispers, "Celestine. Celestine my dear, time to wake. Time to rise and great the new day." Celestine thought of throwing her handie against the wall but it probably wouldn't break and the motion would require her to venture out from the comforter she had cocconed herself in. She couldn't just tell it to be silent, the alarm function purposefully did not respond to voice command. It was far too cold in SanFran District. She missed Arizona, no not at all actually. But, she did miss the heat. It was energizing. This cold, especially this foggy, seaborn cold, sapped her will. She had spent the last few hours awake, watching the fog roll past her window. Slowly, progressivly she had snuggled deeper into the small bed. Systimatically covering exposed bits until, finally, only her left eye and one dark, full eyebrow remained to endure the cold world. She heard birds chirping, muffled by the layers of flanel, cotton and whatever folks in GBA stuff comforters with, but, definately birds, definately chirping. Not the bird sound she had been waiting for. Her monocular gaze still led out the window. It was foggy, always foggy. But the fog shimmered with the silvery light of Luna, not Sol's golden warmth. The warm glow that would by mid-morning or the afternoon at the lastest drive the mist back to whence it came. The pleasent birdsongs were from the handie, it's AI varied the progam each morning. She imagined a plucky robin bouncing back and forth along a slender branch crooning his unending love for his sweetie. A pale eyelid had closed over the single eye. But, the Good Witch quickly brought it up and Celestine back to conscinious. The alarm must be changed, she needed to be driven from bed. The robin, whatever bird it had been, mader her too, too content. Peering out from under the red and black flannel of her comforter her deep blue eye focused on the dim glow of the handie's control surface. Her pupil a black round finger jabbed out, she willed the yammering witch to stfu. The robin was cut off mid note, an unfortunate but unavoidable victim. Annoyed at the implied duality of good and evil Glenda represented she had the spark she needed. At once, in a fluid motion she had kicked with her legs and thrown the layers of protective covers up over her head. She was completly exposed now. Her skin was still young, smooth and pale almost translucent in the faint moonlight. It enclosed a thin, toned body. Fit, healthy, and feminine. Wiggling her toes she sat up, her hair was silky straight and deep black. It fell easily, just brushing her slight shoulders. There was no good and evil, only life and death and all of us struggling to get the most from the first and avoid the second. Wow, it is damn cold. Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed her feet glided into a pair of slippers before they could touch the plain wood floor. Donning a thick, full-length robe that had lain on the floor she got up. The first hints of day were now visible out the window. She sniffed but it was too cold to smell anything. After a few depth breaths she looked around. Few things in the room were hers, certainly no family photos, a few conservative outfits hung in a wardrobe, a few more not so conservative joined them. Piled on the simple desk sat a small collection of books, some quite estoric but nothing that revealed too much about the room's occupant. By the door a stout case held a violin, a nice one, nothing overly special though. On the bedstand, no jewerly, only the access card that got her into the teacher's lounge. It was temporary housing, one room in a hostel provided to her by the Council with her promotion from assistant to music teacher. It was a home, a fairly good one. She was in no hurry to leave it, not when her plans were progressing so well. She grabbed some things and headed to the communal showers in the basement. On her way back to the the 2nd floor she caught Tumbles, Mrs Ahn's cat, trying to sneak downstairs. The callico furball pratically jumped into Celestine's arms and purred virgorously with her first stroke of its soft coat. Scratching under Tumbles chin she chided "Yes, you're a bad kitty." and with a big smooch "Such a bad kitty." The door opposite Celestine's opened and out stepped Miakoda. "You had better hurry if you want to ride the Lev with me." "Yes Ms. Pearl, I'll meet you at the stop. Don't leave without me." the last part had been yelled from half-way down the stairs. But, Miakoda scampered back up to retrieve a moccasian that had flown off her foot when she had lept down to the first landing. "No waiting, be there." but the giggling smile on her face foiled her attempt at sterness. Tumbles made his move. Onto the floor, around Thunderfeather's feet and through the open doorway. "Ha!" Tumbles backwards, over-the-shoulder look to Celestine seemed to say. "Don't worry, I'll see that rascal gets back to Mrs Ahn. You have your share of rascals to deal with already." Thunderfeather said as she opened the next door down and rousted the remaining two native girls from their night's slumber. If the only rascals I had to deal with were at school, Celestine mused to herself as she glanced once more out the window and still saw nothing. Well, she saw a great deal just not the black, beaked creature she had hoped for. The fog was clearing uncharasitically early and she looked out on a city full of life and energy. Energies that should be much more developed than they were. Something was holding back this land's, these people's power, dampaning spirits like the fog dampened hers. Quickly she was out of her robe and into one of the conservative outfits from the wadrobe. A blue affair, but she had picked it because it had legs and was the warmest. A last check of herself and the room; her shoes complimented the navy slacks well enough, her handie was in it's belt clip, access card around her neck, violin waiting to be picked up, earplug (she had neglected to listen to several student compositions the night before and needed to make up for it on the Lev ride to work), mental defenses were freshened, and finally screening spells put into place. Down first one flight of stairs and then the second. She passed the kitchen door on her way to the common room. It was empty, it's 'round the wall counters would not see activity for several more hours. The HIBH accomidated all types but the owner and majority of it's residents felt no need to rush the day. A quick word to the front door lock and she was out. The fog had made a rapid retreat, she could actually see the sun. It had just crested Twin Peaks and she could feel it shine over the lowlands and drive the fog back into the ocean. It felt warmer outside than in. Only Nikoli had left the hostel before Celestine, he was already well out in the Pacific trying to track down and catch what few fish remained. Celestine Pearl was headed down the street to the Lev stop, she had made it for one more day. <-> Mulletov Viva La Gunderson stuck out. For one thing he was white, white as fresh snow, not that it ever snowed around here. As white as the snow back in Flint anyways. For another thing everyone remembers when he first came to SFDist he had a mullet. Even after he shaved bald no one, almost, would use the new name, Peter, he had choosen. People called him Mullethead if they talked to him at all. But mostly the fact that he had no legs put him squarely in the category of "those to be picked on". His legs had been blown off in a "Kids are Bombs" raid when his parents were still together and they all lived in Michigan. He was one of the few kids to survive Moore Memorial Elementary. All his friends had been bombs or were blown up by them. Mulletov wasn't sad about it, things just "were". Kids either blew up or they picked on him. Actually he did have legs, but they were mechanical. The first ones the travelling doctors had sold to his parents weren't very good. They gave him troubles walking and he often fell down even when no one was pushing. But the new ones Mr. Ochi and the senior shop class had made for him last year were great. Their fuel cells lasted a week and the actuators responded preciesly, without any delay. Best of all they were fast! He hadn't been beaten up once after getting them. No one could come close to catching him. They didn't even bother trying to chase him anymore. There were more bullies in Flint, perhaps getting older had something to do with it, he was a junior this year. He had noticed adults did not chase one another and beat each other up. At least not most of them. Mulletov was running over to Kropotkin Heights Collective to pick up his friend Mannie on his way to school. Mulletov wouldn't admit that he was a friend. Too afraid that he might blow-up, although, kids didn't seem to blow-up as much as they did when Mullet was younger. They still went "missing" like his father had. He had other "friends" as well. Miakoda who he met in robot club but never talked to until after they both knew Mannie. She was wicked slick with tech. Wendy was around alot too, mostly she was around Mr. Delgado who was around Ms. Pearl who lived with Miakoda and was a teacher at the school. Ms. Pearl hung out at lunch. Wendy was so young he was sure its only a matter of time before, Boom! Running past the militia headquartes high up on it's granite outcropping he turned right onto Guerro Street. Near 17th street Mannie was waiting, hanging upside down from a street lamp. A handie pressed close to his small face. His dark brown eyes intently following some video. "Hello Mr. Gunderson. You know what it is about this place? It's the smell. I can't stand the smell." Mannie was good with accents, you'd never guess he was an adpoted French-Columbian. He could impersonate anyone, at least anyone he had watched on video. "Come on Mannie, we'll be late." "Late for what? Another wickedly interesting and beneficial day at prison?" "Yaup" "It's a sentence, a life sentence." "You wanna walk? Just issue the orders captain, my captain." "Hey now, no reason to get all ooglealy." Mannie was already swinging his small frame back and forth. Soon he was right-side-up swaying from long, thin, brown arms. After a little hand over hand and wrapping his blue-jeaned legs around the vertical pole he was on the ground picking up his red velour smoking jacket were he had thrown it. Not counting the 3" black spikey mess Mannie considered a hairstyle he barely came to midchest on Mulletov. "Finally! Now get on." Mannie climbed up onto Mulletov's shoulders. He barely weighed 36 Kilos. This was just easier than anything else. Three identical men waved from the top of Kropotkin's wall, Mannie ignores them. Mulletov shrugs at this and was off running down Guerero towards JBH leaked hydrolic oil on his bare aluminum legs glistening in the morning rays. Mannie yelling "Yeah, we funky. Funkay Dolmas." <-> Morning classes were over Mannie, Miakoda, and Molletov met in the halls. The three of them went to the school's inner courtyard to have lunch as they did every day. Mannie walked with two handies out in front each displaying a different program. Gunderson was busy trying to step on the shoelaces that were trailing, untied, behind Mannie's lime green canvas sneakers. Miakoda teased the video zombie, "Those handies might as well replace your hands. With Ms. Bates help I could probably rig something up." Mannie stopped, Miakoda and Gunderson stopped. Looking at Mulletov, then at the ground, finally back into Gunderson eyes and reaching out a hand to touch his arm Miakoda said "Oh, Peter, I'm sorry. I didn't mean..." she trailed off. Mulletov didn't care. If all that got blown off of Mannie were his hands he would be relieved. He liked Miakoda holding his arm and didn't want her to stop so he sat there sheepishly wondering what *not* to do. Mannie hadn't looked up from his video and had simply stoped since he had reached a sunny spon and wanted to sit down. Which he now did, straight down, ending up cross-legged in the grass. The smells of lunc, protien pucks and wheatgras, lingered until the wind carried then out of the openair courtyard. "Oh, goodie, you're all here, the last three names on my list." Wendy exclaimed as she bounced across the courtyard. "What list?" Miakoda could not hide her anxiety at having the girl from her vision quest run up to her the very next day. Sensing her tension Mulletov got ready to sprint away at the first sign of an explosion. He could jump fairly high. It might be worth it to try and make it to the roof. He thought looking up. "I'm on a list?" Mannie said eyes still fixed on handie. Wendy bubbled "My birthday list of course!" Trying to see what Mulletov was looking at. "You've all been selected to buy me a gift and present it at my birthday party. Here!" Handing each one of them, in turn, a piece of gold foil paper neatly folded each into a diffrent shape. She then curtsied and bounced back the way she came, humming a funny tune to herself. Miakoda thought it sounded mathmatical. She would never have figured out its cryptographic progression but gave up trying when she saw the location of Wendy's party. +----------------------------------------------------------+ | | | You have been cordially invited to attend this year's | | most anticipated and _exclusive_ event | | | | | | An intimate gathering in celebration of | | Wendy's eighth birthday | | | | | | Saturday November 10th, 2003 | | | | Pine Grove | | | | | | | | Formal attire required | +----------------------------------------------------------+ It was too much. She didn't understead everthing about vision quests but she understood they weren't suppose to precog the waking world. "I wouldn't go to this. We don't have to. Let's not. Don't go. Say you won't go." "I'm going" Mannie said while fast forwarding through someting on one handie. "Why?" "Cause you're telling me not to." "You don't even have any formal attire" "Dad'll make me some" "Manta Ray Lopez you're such a pain! Peter don't go." Mulletov shrugged his sholders. "Of course he's going. How do you think I'm getting there? Walking? Ho!" Mannie had put away one handie to point a finger at Miakoda and then towards her feet. "Good one Ms. Silly Shoes." Looking down at her beautifull beaded mocasians she had made herself, "What? you can't even keep your stoopid shoes tied" "Hey, these shoes symbolize my individuality and belief in personal freedom." "Whatever." and Miakoda turned right around and left the two boys behind, her moccasians silently padding across the grass. "You'll be there too." Mannie yelled after her. "No" "See ya Saturday" "No" she said and kicked out the prop that held open the door to the lunchroom as she passed through causing it to slam behind her. To Gundersion, "She'll come." In response he just shrugged again. -- -- [original RPG intro, needs expandin] "History of the GBA" 8th week reading assignment, Mr. Gomez's Modern History As the WWW expanded into every aspect of life and each succesive generation knew less about any other way of living or communicating, crowding humans together in cities and going places to buy or do stuff became less and less important. Corporations abandoned the cities. Lacking the property and other business taxes the cites deteroated, encouraging more people and business to leave. Eventually, everyone that could had moved out. On May 14, 2070 a magnatude 8.9 earthquake rocked the Bay Area("the shake"). The Golden Gate's north tower crashed into the bay dragging most of the span with it. BART2 and the Coastal MagLev were totaled up and down the peninnsula all the way to the SJPA Autonomous Economic Zone. The "Pepsi Cola" dike, built to hold back the rising oceans, mostly held. Nearly all the local utility and transportation infrastructure was devastated. Over 40% of all private property was knocked or burnt down. Most of the rest was condemnable or destroyed during the ensuing month long riots("the burn"). No one rushed to rebuild the city that was half-empty anyway. Plans were drawn up to repair the Coastal MagLev up the eastern side of the bay, no money for the project ever materialized. The Bay Bridge which had been newly hardened(vs terrorists) in 2043 was one of the few large structures to survive. Within a decade CALTRANS choose to tear it down rather than pay to maintain it. Most corporations had already reloacted their data centers and network infrastructure to geologically stable Sacramento or further afield. 90% of their workers telecommuted from PRD's(Planned Rural Developements), gated communities or various other quiet, safe, controlled areas. The USA and the world wrote the Bay Area off as a bad investment. Soon, after the shake and burn San Francisco, Silicon Valley, and the rest of the Bay Area fell into near anarchy. Only a few enclaves maintained a semblance of order and a stablity. The largest of these, based around the old public power generation facility and grid, slowly united the enclaves and "reclaims" much of the city. By 2103 there is a democraticly run "city-state" the GBA, Greater Bay Area. It controlls large parts of what was once refered to as "The Bay Area". Gaining defacto autonomy since, as of yet, the GBA rulership has been carefull not to give anyone a reason to care what happens around SF Bay. -- -- Chapter ?? - Who *are* you? The two vampires heard the steady "whoop, whoop" sound that meant they were close. Another 100m and they would emerge from the salt marsh that extended along the coast south of The Park. Long ago a dike had been erected to hold back the rising Pacific. Repreiving the happy residents of Old San Francisco, but not for long. The shake and burn shattered the barrier along with beach, jogging trails and roads that once stood here. In the years since the Pacific has felt obliged to further wreck and erode the scars of man. Like most areas near The Park this coast and far inland has become overgrown [park plant]. Humans and more importantly little slayers do not come here, at least not at night. Too many of the frail things had gone 'missing'. Portions of the "Great Highway" and other roads remained intact enough to provide dry(er) footing and paths across the deeper inlets. The vampires regularly used these and now knew a fairly quick 'trail' from The Park edge to were the land rose, the marsh faded into sandy beach and the turbine fields began in the south. "Ha, look at this. It's so confused." Cleetus held up a twenty centimeter long pale slug-like thing. The beastie flopped back and forth searching the air with its ring shaped mouth. It's rows of cicular teeth seeking flesh to dig into. It was slimy enough to give Cleetus trouble keeping it from squirting through his gloved fists. "Gee, Cleetus you found a leech. I can see the posting now 'While slogging through the putrid, revolting swamps of the lowlands, vampire is stunned to find leech turning the tables on him.'" Cleetus's companion had no trouble seeing in the near total darkness the Eucalyptus canopy provided. "He's just looking for dinner like us." said Cleetus holding the leech up and looking for it's eyes. "Sorry, little vampire guy. I don't have any blood in me. Maybe we'll find some later." With this Cleetus slipped the wriggling blood-sucker into the thigh cargo pocket of his milita fatigues. The other vampire, one waiter clad leg on a fallen tree the other still mired in stink, turned around to glare at Cleetus. He hated having to trek through the swamps but the Big Boss demanded it. He didn't fear him so much, really what could he do? But he had nightmares of waking up in the hideout, that minirature slayer looking over him, her blonde curls ticking his cheeks, a slight smile on her disgusting little face, stake in hand. That horrible vision made him endure being wet, stinky and having mud up his asscrack every week. But nothing, nothing and nobody said he had to put up with Cleetus and his innane chatter. Before he was able free his leg from the gunk the wind picked up and a sweet, sweet odor waffed across his nostrils. A scent that brushed aside his anger, displacing it with lustfull thirst. Instead of launching himself clawed fists outstreached at Cleetushe said "Speaking of dinner I smell something." "Yeah, it's rotting fish and tree." "No, stupid. I smell blood, warm human blood. Come'on it's comming from the fields." Noname had quickly removed his waiters and tossed them at the base of the first massive 'egg-beater' turbine. There were several hunderd along this stretch of coast. Placed here to harness the strong breeze that blew in and out from the ocean. They continued south as far as his enhanced vision could tell which wasn't all that far this moonless, overcast night. Their churning produced a thumping base line. Perhaps, after he ate and killed Cleetus, he would go dancing at ['']. Not all pleasures were evil. The fresh ocean breeze and the delichious aroma it carried was dramatically improving his mood. What could a human be doing out here at this time. Well, he'd just have to find out. He turned and headed into the wind, onto the sandy beach. The tide was on the way out and the beach was comparativly wide. Sand was filling Noname's designer shoes and an unnoticed wave had drenched the legs of his expensive Turkish wool slacks. He didn't care, not now, a dozen meters further down the beach lay a prone, but living, human. He thought it was female, no matter either sex would taste just as good after a week of bottled blood. Cleetus had walked out into the surf, his idea of a bath. The cold salt-water washed away most of the mud and slime. Of course he still reeked and would continue to do so until he 'did his laundry'. Which involved stealing the cloths of some suitably sized and recently drained 'donner'. That is how he came about his current uniform, dripping with seawater. He ran out of the foamy water towards the spot Noname was approaching. They arrived simultanously. Pulling a bit of seaweed out of his colar and tossing it to the sand Cleetus spoke first. "Lookit, a seafood snack. Huh huh" "My seafood" Replied Noname. Bending over 'the catch' his dark blue fedora flew off. It got carried high and ended up stuck in an eggbeater. The next day a technition would be wearing it home hoping to never be rotated out of turbine maintenance. Noname, handstiched ostirich leather shoes dug into the sand on either side of the unconcious female, reached down to grab her shoulders and pull his snack up to a more convient height. Recently deposited by the tide. She was utterly naked except for a steel id bracelet fastened around her right wrist. In her early twenties with head shaved so close it was hard to tell the fuzz that covered it was brown. Her olive skin was unburnt and displayed few signs of prolonged exposure. Whatever boat she had the misfortune to fall off of must have been sailing recently, at night and fairly close to shore. As Noname pushed her all the way onto her back her large dark lips parted and spit up a bit of the ocean. The naked girl coughed a few more times while he pulled her erect. Brushing the sand from her slender neck Noname noticed she was quite a bit more muscular than most humans her age and gender. "Don't worry my little sushi, it will all be over soon." Cleetus would have laughed at this but could manage only one thing at a time and was currently busy scanning the ocean swells. He was sure that had seen mishappened head sticking out at the water just were they started cresting. Er, maybe not. Well back to the show. Cleetus turned 'round in time to catch Noname chaning into 'the face', mouth open wide, fangs centimeters from piercing that tender, shivering neck. Even before her large eyes were fully open she had begun to swing her right arm, elbow tight at the side, across the front of her body. They were fully open to witness the back of her hand smash into the fearfull head that was leering over her neck. It had been an automatic response as had the second part of this combo. Her left fist, clenched hard and with the full force of her swinging body, barreled into Noname's face knocking him half way around and nearly to his knees. Continuing her 180 spin, she lifted her right leg and planted a side kick firmly in Noname's side, propelling him several meters througth he air to land face first in the sand. "Jesus," he spurted mouth half filled with sand. Noname liked to tangle with his meal as much as the next vamp, but this was ridiculus. She, naturally and without planning had ending up facing the next threat. "uh" Cleetus managed. The naked meal's two huge brown eyes, their pupils extra large in the darkness, both were fixated right on him. He didn't like being noticed. He also didn't like being first so he stood there, knees bent, arms loose ready to sprint outta there if she came for him. She was too dangerous, he could always find some old person to suck on. She stood, bewildered, staring at the soldier a few meters away. Shivering from the cold wind she looked down at her bare sand speckled body. She thought "Where are my cloths?" Her still clenched fists caused the muscles of her right forearm to bulge as she held it up. She was holding up the id tag on her wrist to read it when goosepimples exploded all along her arm. A sharp pain forced her to throw back her right wrist. The skin at the base of her hand seperated and a smooth spike protruded. It's tip caught in the links of the id bracelet and snapped them as the spike contiuned its painfully extension. A scream erupted from her lips. Not from pain, this was a battle cry. She spun back around and thrust her arm at Noname as he ran up behind her. The force of the impact knocked her back leaving two troughs, goughed in the sand by her bare feet. The heel of her hand rested over his heart. Twentyfive or so centimeters of wood sheathed carbon fiber stake lay buried in his chest. It's ferroceramic tip had pierced his fine wool suit as easily as it had parted his kelvar undershirt. She deftly withdrew the extension as Noname turned to dust. She held her stake arm up, defensivly, pararell to her head and without turning, looked over her right shoulder to again bring the next threat into view. But Cleetus had seen enough of this shit and was out of sight running very fast back towards the marsh. Big Boss would know what to do about this new slayer. She, The Slayer, stood shivering. The warmth of combat had fled her body. Slowly she let her arm fall limply to her side and slowly the stake withdrew back into her forearm. The skin at her wrist sealed so cleanly it was barely noticible. Soon, her accelerated slayer healing would cause it to be not noticible at all. Muttering to herself "Where am I" and looking around she mostly saw the dark, cold ocean. Something was out in the breakers heading this way. Not understanding what had happened to the man that assaulted her and fearing what might be coming after her from out of the depths she took a step back nearly toppling down. Shock and mild hypothermia were taking their toll. But slayers don't give up, even ones who don't know they are slayers. Hugging herself for warmth she trudged through the sand towards the "whoop, whoop" of a hundred turbines. A few minutes later she was in the Lowlands of SFDist stumbling up Ortega. In fact two somethings were silently approaching. The recon spiders they had deployed informed them exactly who and what was or was not on, in, or above this stretch of beach. Their rebreathers, night vision, thermal, detection and combat gear hung, protuded and bulged all over. The skinsuits they wore adjusted to reflect a simliar amount of light as thier surroundings making them very hard to see submerged or not. The suit's coolant and the thermal dampners they wore made them nigh invisilbe in IR. Many of their targets, including vampires, relied heavily on IR. But, this wasn't a search and destroy mission. This was cleanup, collecting the pieces left around from someone else's fuckup. "Did the spiders get that? Tell me they did, R&D chews my ass when we don't get them data to play with." "Recorded and uploaded, Sir." "How 'bout Delta section?" "They've located both the re-entry capsule and it's hatch. Just waiting for Mother to pick them up." "Damn this team is good, huh? Tell them to stand-by, we'll be back out in ten." "We're not following... it, Sir?" "Not our problem Corporal. Sea and surf, that's our theatre. Some other resource will handle it. If there's even a need." "How do you mean, Sir?" "Rumors, only rumors, that they have built in failsafes. Now quit asking questions before you learn more than you want to know." He picked up the broken bracelet and scanned the sand with the magnometer mounted on his arm until he was satisfied that not a single fragment remained. It, unlike any thing he wore or carried, was stamped "Property of Sony Corp". It continued "Orbital R&D Facility" and below that "Starsider - v8.37.2". Then again no one had expected the piece of tech this identifed to ever be 'in the wild' so to speak. Dealing with the unexpected was what his team was all about. "Check your seals and call in the spiders, we've got a sub to catch." "Yes, Sir" The Corporal and her Sergent headed back to the waves, six robotic spiders chasing after them. One by one the spiders hopped into the transport/charging hardpoints on their packs. The last one had to swim a ways under water to catch the Sergeant. As soon as it attached he gave the signal and they were making speed towards Mother who had already recovered the capsule and the rest of his team. <-> [notes and crap!] "This is my fist" "Of Emperors and Urchins" "Forgive my insects"