ZOMBIE FORUMS

Hemmington

It's night in Hemmington. Despite the fact that the sun is halfway around the earth, most of the city is still brightly lit. The clubs, Bars, Hotels that charge by the hour, all of them make their most during this part of the 'day', and are doing their best to attract patrons with brightly flashing lights and promises of a better time inside. Even far from the Main, residential areas and apartment complexes that cater to the wealthy are brightly lit, though in these cases it's more to ward off those who would indulge in the experiences of the Clubs, Bars, and Hotels that charge by the hour. Sitting outside of one such apartment complex is a taxi, its advertisement for an expensive brand of cigarettes shining, while its For-Hire lamp is off. A white, middle-aged man is sitting in the driver's seat, tapping his fingers on the sterring wheel in time to the music that's softly playing through the radio.

The side door of the complex opens and a man in a grey suit walks out. His gait is paced, and he scans left and right on his way to the taxi. Despite the relative darkness of the street, he wears a pair of black non-descript sunglasses. He pulls open the door of the cab and settles into the back seat, drawing a tablet computer from the briefcase already on the seat beside him. He makes a few taps on the screen with his stylus, then turns to the driver.


"How long will it take to reach Cole Street?"

The man performs some complex mental calculations, then responds, "Twenty-three minutes. It's most of the way across the city, near Hemmington University."

The man in grey checks his watch and nods. "Good, that will still put us ahead of schedule."

The driver starts the taxi and pulls out into the road. "How was your friend? Did he like your idea?"

"Heheh. Yes, he did. In fact, I'll be coming back here in a week or so to draw up the papers and get the ball rolling."


The taxi pulls onto the Main, and the signs blend together to a sea of neon orange, red, and yellow.

---

2200 Cole Street, Apartment 116, Hemmington

The door of the apartment swings inward, and the girl in the doorway bends down to pick up a pair of brown paper sacks. She sets them on the counter in the kitchen, then takes off her long black cloak, revealing a close-fitting red shirt and a dark pair of khakis. She takes off a pair of black non-descript sunglasses and sets them on a table next to the door, then stretches and walks to the stereo system in the corner, presses the button for the fourth CD, and hits play. As the music starts, she returns to the kitchen and begins sorting the contents of the brown bags into various cabinets, as well as the fridge.

When the bags are empty, She folds them and places them under the sink, adding to a small pile that looks to have been collecting there for some time. She then opens the fridge again and spends a minute looking over its contents. Having decided on what will become an admittedly very late dinner, she pulls out a package of eggs, some pre-grated cheese, a tupperware container of leftover ham, and a small, already-opened can of mushrooms, and begins making an omelet. Just before she pours the beaten eggs into the frying pan, there's a quick knock at her door.

She quickly makes a mental adjustment, and the door isn't there anymore. Standing in her doorway is a man dressed in a grey suit, wearing a pair of sunglasses strikingly like hers. Something about the way he's standing tells her that he's not there for idle chatting, and for some reason her mind tells her that he's concealing a gun in a clutch under his left armpit. Moving toward the stereo system to turn it off, she calls out:


"I'll be there in a sec, let me turn down the stereo. Who is it?"

"Management, ma'am," the stranger on the other side of the door replies, "We need to do a yearly test of your breakers, and I might as well check the heating while I'm at it."


She somehow doubts that the sole manager has been replaced in the last seven hours, and though she has no clue why the man outside her door would lie to her, she makes two quick mental changes before unlocking the door.

---

Vincent hears the click of the deadbolt retracting and readies himself. The girl will know at first glance that he's not part of management, so he'll have to get to her and get her back inside the apartment before she either yells or gets it closed again. The handle turns, and the door opens, allowing him to see his target and decide on the next course of action.

Except... She's not there.

Vincent curses mentally. Somehow she knew already that something was wrong. He knew she was a Para. That sort of thing was always included in the workups, because going after Paras was always riskier. But the workups said that her powers were limited to sight-related things. Omnivision, concealme-

She had gone invisible. That had to be it. Figure out the why later, just find her and complete the job.

Vincent gets through the door as quickly as possible, then, gun raised, pushes it closed behind him and turns the deadlock. There would be no getting out without him hearing it now. He flicks the light switch near the doorway, and the room goes dark, evening the playing field somewhat. He concentrates on the noises in the room, trying to hear the shuffling of her feet on the carpet.

---

She had been right. Damn it, why did she have to be right? The man had come into her apartment, and, upon not seeing her, had drawn his gun. He was good, too, knew what he was doing. Turning off the lights hadn't killed her sight, but it sure as hell wasn't helping. She remembered the short swords she had always kept around, lying under her bed. Fortunately, her bedroom door was open (why close it when you didn't have a roommate and didn't expect guests?), but she'd have to be careful. Chances were that if she moved, he'd know where she was. He was currently still next to the door, but in a couple seconds he would probably start moving through the apartment trying to find her, and if he tried moving through the bathroom doorway she was crouching in, he would definitely do just that.

Luckily, the kitchen had a half-wall separating it from the living room She could dive behind that, and it would only be a quick move into the bedroom from there. She decides to go for it, and makes the leap.

---

Vincent hears a shuffle to his left, tracks the movement through the air, and trains his gun on where chances are she'll land. Damn, it's behind that wall. And she'll probably move from there into the bedroom. He moves in between the two, cutting her off, and scans behind the half-wall for any clues of where she is.

Suddenly, his legs are pulled out from under him. As he falls backward, he fires a shot beween his legs, and feels mild satisfaction as he hears a yell and the girl in the workups blinks into existence, a gash traced along her shoulder blade. She rolls to the right and spins, kicking the gun out of his hands, then pushes herself up as he rolls backwards. She runs around him, into the bedroom, and reaches under her bed for one of her swords. As he opens the door, gun back in his hand, she throws it, and it embeds itself in his left shoulder. He collapses to one knee, and as he brings the gun back up to bear, she brings her fist down on the back of his neck.

---

Alia packs quickly. She tosses a few easy-to-prepare boxes of food, a spare change of clothes, and other assorted essentials into her school bag, holsters the swords behind her back, and dons her cloak, sunglasses, and bag, wincing as the bag touches the line that the bullet traced into her. She makes one last pass through the apartment for anything she missed, then heads outside. She sees a taxi waiting, which is odd, since most of the people here are students and either couldn't afford one, or wouldn't need one anyway. She opens the door and climbs into the back seat.


"Sorry, hun, but this cab's not for hire. I've got a guy in there right now that I'm already working for."

"No surprise. He won't be needing you for a while. I knocked him out."

"Shit! What the hell'd you do that for?"

"He tried to rape me. Could you do me a favor and drive me to Our Mother of Grace hospital?"

"Yeah, sure... Shit, he seemed like such a cool guy, too. Don't worry, girl, I'll get you there in a jiffy."


The cab starts, Alia asks the driver to turn up the music, and slips into a restorative trance. She does this completely on autopilot, drawing on abilities long left unused. The driver makes several checks back to make sure she's still breathing, and once almost pulls over the cab until she gives another breath. The cab pulls back into the fast lane, continues towards the hospital.

Somewhere near the Para Forest. Canada.

Yumiko rubbed the back of her head, wincing as her fingers ran over the scab from where Kazzenstein slammed her in the skull with a shotgun butt. “Ow.” She leaned up against the Jeep door and looked in at Lindsay, who still slept, sprawled across the front, with Yumiko’s Kevlar vest providing a makeshift pillow.

Lindsay exhaled, face calm and placid. If her dreams troubled her, her face didn’t show it.

Yumiko smiled. “You’re one damn brave girl, Lindsay,” she said. She turned away and stared out over the horizon. After a few moments, Yumiko stood up from the Jeep. Yumiko rummaged around in the Jeep’s back and pulled out a water bottle. She gulped the liquid down, letting the refreshing chill run over her chin.

Behind her, Lindsay stirred, the seat squeaking as she adjusted herself. Lindsay’s eyes opened, and she exhaled.

Yumiko turned around. “Hey, the hero’s awake,” she said. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

“Don’t greet me with clichés,” Lindsay said, voice hoarse from sleep.

“Whatever,” Yumiko said. “Feeling better?”

“Hurts like hell every time,” Lindsay said. She pulled herself up into a sitting position, locking eyes with Yumiko. “Told you I’d be better in a few hours.”

Yumiko turned away. “Sorry,” she said, peeved. “Just asking.”

Lindsay grunted. She looked around. “We’re still here?” she said. “We haven’t moved?”

Yumiko blinked. “Uh . .. yeah. Why?” Her hand rested on the Jeep door.

Lindsay straightened. “You think Kazzenstein didn’t have backup? You’ve been in situations like this before.” Her eyes narrowed. “You should know better.”

Yumiko swore. “Yeah, I do,” she said, opening the door and getting in beside Lindsay.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Lindsay said. She gunned the engine, the tires squealing. The car leaped forward onto the road.

Yumiko breathed heavily. “I thought – you wanted some sleep,” she said. “I didn’t think about much else.” She stared up into the sky. “Shit, why do I have to explain myself to you, anyway?”

Lindsay’s face set. She closed her eyes briefly. “Because,” she said, “I can’t trust a partner who isn’t ready for everything.”

Yumiko’s head whipped around. She stared at Lindsay. “What the hell?”

“It seems the most expedient thing to do,” Lindsay said. “Whatever was meant to happen back there didn’t. Kazzenstein’s employer will not be happy about that. They will investigate.”

“And they have records of our involvement,” Yumiko said. “So if we’re not there . . .”

“Right.” Lindsay’s hand gripped the wheel. “If it were up to me, I’d just go on like always. But . . .” She sighed. “I saved your life back there. I’d hate to think I did it for nothing.”

Yumiko nodded. “Fair enough. Partners, then.” She settled back into her seat. “So where to now?”

“I have a place set up where I could go if a situation like this ever came up back in Hemmington,” Lindsay said. “It’s not far from the city itself, but if they’re looking for us there, we can avoid them easily. I figure we can lay low for a few days – or at least you can.” She stared out over the road. “I have jobs to do.”

Yumiko grunted her agreement. “Lead the way, Lindsay,” she said, gesturing to the open road. “Sooner we get there, the better I’ll feel.”


Dresden, Ohio. Murray’s Coffee Shop.

Everyone avoided her. It wasn’t surprising, given her abnormal appearance – not everyone walked around covered in fur from head to toe. Slanted, diamond-shaped eyes slid from side to side, scanning the room. She ran a hand through her black-brown hair. She smiled. “Mundanes,” she said.

The man sitting across from her nodded. “It never gets any better,” he said. “Does it, Miao Ming?”

Miao shook her head. She slid an envelope across the table to him. “They won’t remember us,” she said. “Katrin is standing guard. There’s the information you wanted.”

The man picked up the envelope, slit the seal with a fingernail, then pulled three blurry pictures from inside. He looked at them, whistling. “You sure you don’t want this yourself? I mean, he could be a useful ally to you.”

Miao shrugged. “If he wants to help, he’ll come to me. I know that much about him. I want you to establish a link with him.”

“Why me?” the man said.

“Because you’ve made a career out of finding lost souls,” Miao said. “If anyone can do it, it’s the man who saved my daughter.” She smiled.

The man who was once a priest smiled back. “It was my pleasure,” he said. “Tell her I said hello, then.” He stood up, leaving his meal untouched. “Goodbye, Miao Ming.”

Miao waved. “Be seeing you,” she said. She stood up, then walked out. As she pushed open the door, she nodded to a girl dressed in an orange shirt. “Go,” Miao said.

Katrin nodded, then peered through the window of the café. As Miao walked out of sight, Katrin glowed briefly, tendrils of blue light spreading across the building. A man dressed like a pirate met Miao at the corner, and they vanished.

Katrin turned away from the restaurant and walked up to where Miao stood. She looked around. Then she, too, vanished.

An hour later, one black helicopter, the letters UNPSI painted along its side, landed in Dresden. They found nothing, save two fingerprints on the handle of a mug, matching the prints of a known fugitive. They returned to their helicopter without saying a word. Inside they seethed; they were tired of playing catchup with that feline bitch and her anarchist cronies. Five years since she went under – and not a single proof of her existence other than her fingerprints.

As the helicopter lifted off, a bystander would have seen spray-painted on the helicopter’s underside “NOVUS ORDO SECLORUM – LIBERTAS VEL MORS.”

Kansas, USA



This was to be the story that had followed him throughout all of his journeys outside of the castle. No one would dare fight him, not one, save for that old drunk that
had had one too many and tried to sleep with his wife. But that man was now sleeping, for a very, very, long time. His wife at his side, them on their horses, they looked
like a medieval king and queen of old. He was starting to show his age, here and there the skin was no longer as tight to his face as it once was, and his hair had long since turned white. He let it grow out, better than cutting it off where he knew not if it would grow again or not. His wife still looked like the beautiful angel that he had married all those years ago. Old age hadn't even began to think of setting into her features. Her hair still that same fire red that it had been back when she was still growing. They rode on through
the desert until they came to a small town, going to the local bar he found what looked to be some...less than reputable people and decided that this place...indeed would be the
perfect place for them to stay the evening. They hadn't had a good night sleep since they crossed over from the old land on the ship, a ship that had been monstrous, it would have easily fit the whole castle inside of it's hold...Coromyn walked up to the bartender, a portly looking fellow who appeared to have more knowledge behind the sunken features of his face than you would think to find.

"We're looking for a room for the night." The Knight said to the Bartender
"Alright and how will you be paying for this room, paper or plastic?"
"We will pay you with...cash."
"Alright its gonna cost you a hundred for the night, two if you want the horses to still be out there in the morning."
"Very well, I warn you though sir, if the horses should come to any harm, t'will be your head that shall be in trouble in the morning."

The Knight and his wife went up to the room to rest for the evening, until the time at which they could continue their travels to the west. She didn't speak, she hadn't spoke since they left the castle, he wondered if it was his fault, or maybe she was just worried to speak, he didn't bring it up however and they quickly fell into a deep slumber.


The Morning

They woke up with a start, there was gunfire outside. Something that hadn't happened before they had gotten here. Quickly he suited up with his armor and went downstairs, drawing his .45's he looked around to where the bartender was hiding behind the bar, one hand clenched at his gut and the other holding some sort of automatic weapon. The Knight moved to the bar to help the man right then the bartender popped up over the edge and started to spray a hail of bullets out of the door, Coromyn peeked over the bar and saw three men with shotguns all lining up on the bar, he whipped up the pistols and put two bullets into the closest man.

"You, Knight, this is your fault, they came in here looking for you and when they couldn't find you they went outside and started to shoot up my bar."
"I apologize, I will help you get out of here, on my signal can you start shooting at them so they will have to put their heads down? And if possible, hit one of them."
"Sure shouldn't be a problem."

Coromyn moved around to the edge of the bar and looked around, immediately drawing some fire, he pulled back and signaled to the bartender who proceeded to open up on the shotgun toting baddies. They ducked from the incoming storm of bullets and immediately Coro went into action, holstering the pistols and drawing his greatsword he charged the shotgun monkeys and buried his sword deep into the chest of the first man before pulling it out, gutting the man in the process, swinging it in a flat arc and cutting the other man in half. He walked back into the bar to make sure the bartender was alright but seeing the pool of blood that was collecting around the edge of the bar he was sure that he wouldn't be finding what he wanted. Sure enough the bartender was dead. Coromyn ran up the stairs and he and his wife fled the town heading southwest as quickly as their horses would take them.

Clay floated in a dream through the recesses of a mind not his own. Meaningless twisted whisps of images drifted past in the background. His body lay, discarded, in the corner.

How long, how long....has it been? Since I was in the world of life? Since I had so deep a connection? Well, that was just once, Karnak, a priest, he was weird even for my hosts....he was a priest, powerful, used to make me a partner in his...sexual acts...ultimate exhibitionism. I remember him. Only sex I've had since...Ur...I assume I did, can't remember much of who I was, of what I was...I was human, not all humans have sex...I was a man, not a boy...warrior...not a priest...I must have...but does it matter? I don't remember...Karnak always said he wished he could have used my body...had it saved...in a tomb...just in case he could find a way to enter it...I wonder if it exists still..........

A building in Australia. And my gradual entrance into this thread.

The soldiers filled the room, Rebeccas father had been beated to a bloody pulp and she couldn't do anything about it.

Their leader was sitting at the table across from her. Smoking a single cigarette he was calm and cool. His shoe's tapped patiently on the floor. Almost in rythm to the beating.

Tap.
Kick.
Tap.
Kick.
Tap.
Punch.
Tap.
Punch.

"I know you know something important Rebecca."

His voice was like honey, quiet, collected and steady.

She didn't move. The cabin had been her home since she was two years old, since her fingers had changed and the time before that she wasn't allowed to speak of.

"I know what you have hiding underneath that bandage. You poor thing, you think we are monsters sent from the night to kill you don't you?"

Her little right hand covered the stump of her left arm, bandaged up fresh and white. She'd been told, never take it off if anyone was here.

"It doesn't bleed, it doesn't sting and yet it burns doesn't it Rebecca." He looked at her again. His uniform bore no insignia, no rank, no name. "We won't let you live with us out there so you live in here."

Her father tried to speak up and recieved a boot to the mouth for his efforts. There were six of them and they had been hitting him for an hour.
Their armour black with blood.

"He's out here because he loves you. I can respect that, I can understand wanting to protect the one you love. Hell, we've all been guilty of that once in a while. I once had a pet cat, I broke my own brothers leg to stop him hurting that cat, he never walked properly again you know. He died a long time ago, in the dark times, before you were born my dear."

She still couldn't talk. Nervous and alone the man took her hand, the good one. She flinched.

"All we want to know is where he went. My men don't have time to waste. We don't need to hurt either of you."

She whispered under her breath. Her betrayal.

Her dress was an old pattern, from before, they'd salvaged it from some older houses they'd found in the badlands. Everything she had, everything she'd know was from out there.

"No, just tell me what you know, and we'll leave."

She mumbled again. She was Judas.

"No, you're being a brave girl Rebecca. You can trust us, its time for you to do the right thing here."

She looked up, seeing him straight in the eyes. Hers green as the forest around them, his hidden behind the shades of his safely perched glasses.

"Take them off so I can see you eyes demon." She glowed, somehow, with final defiance of their order.

"Rebecca." He said, removing his glasses. "What do you expect to see?"

His eyes were blue.

"A monster dear Rebecca? Judging a man by his eyes is a fools errand." He chuckled. "You can only judge a man by his deeds. Your people are out here because of this error. And my people are here to ensure that that error is enforced. You know this, its how its done."

She looked again. He wanted to be an Astronaut when he was a boy.

"You want to know? I'll tell you then."

"Thats all we want."

"It happened five days ago..."


Five Days Earlier.

Stumbling in the dark...

No-eyes.?

No, I've shut them.

When?

Too long ago...

Fly?

No. Wings don't work.

Kill?

I like the way you think.

He opened his eyes. And there was light...

"I'm not alive. You can't love a thing."

No. Wrong time. Its later than that...

Green. Yes. Green all around him. He was free from the tomb of the world. The man who had killed the creator of the universe, the god of assasins himself, the fallen god, subject #113, Actor.

He felt gravity pivot and he fell to the ground. Bleeding, covered in blood, both his own and theirs.

Where is this?

Its whats left.

Looks nice, I want it.

Soon enough. Stay alive first.

I want to sing.

The nearby birds suddenly fled as his voice rasped as loudly as he could try:

"I FUCK DOGS!
In the park...
After Dark!
When the moon is as Pie in the sky!"

Way to impress the locals.

Bravo.

He didn't move for a while. Remembering to breath was difficult.
His heartbeat began again... and for the first time in a long time. He felt pain.

He felt alive....

And he stood up and walked.

His wings were soiled and his clothes were tattered rags...

Yes.

This would do nicely.

First I need the blood.

Of course.

And guns.

I'm just an abstract thought. Pretend I'm grinning.

He saw the hut just before sunset. The girl, her father.
There, home.

He needed them.

He fell again, his leg twisted the wrong way untill he heard a snap, he screamed and the world went black.

Fucking idiot.

OOC: I'm at work in 5 hours, its nearly 1am.
I'll do the rest tommorrow night.
Actor is back.
His memories are gone.
The girl is important.

Next installment.
A god in healing.
A left handed freak.
Where the sun goes at the end of the world.
Why Birds sing.

Heh. These dang sample runs always seems to be easier on paper. Can never get any real idea of what I've been assigned till halfway in.

In this case, the field assignment was just a sample collection run. Gathering samples of plant, soil, and insects while keeping a diary on the larger specimens he happened to come upon. It's all very easy stuff until you get to the point where they need it all to be collected over a wide area across a variety of terrains. To put bluntly, a nice trip from point B to A (From Outpost B to Outpost A, in this case.) through about 300 miles of the Para Forest.

Northwestern Montana, Para Forest

Sunlight filters through the mass of foliage and trees irregularly, giving the Forest's undergrowth a patchy look. A week and a half or so days of marching through the Forest has left one area looking like another and any fields have been a welcomed sight. Chris barely gives it all a second glance as he works his way through the Forest. Every few miles, he takes a quick spirit walk to check on a few things, gathers another set of samples, writes down the numbers assigned to the samples and then checks his location with a GPS unit before heading on. The miles and daylight pass as his brain goes on autopilot while he continues walking and collects samples.

It wasn't until he started tripping over roots and underbrush that his attention returned back to the present. A quick glance around cleared his questions on why he has been pushed back into the driver seat as what little light is left starts fades. He grumbles as he doffs his pack and pulls out his flashlight after a few moments. In short order, he has a small fire going and his pot of water beginning to warm up. Grabbing a random packet of soup mix from his bag, he dumps the contents into the warming water and stirs till the soup reaches a tolerable heat level before quickly gulping the 'meal' down. A bit of water and a dry rag clean the pot in short order and he puts it back into his backpack. Turning back to the fire, he lets his body collapse into a comfortable pile and turns his attention to the flames.

As he stared into the light of the fire, he could feel himself relax. His muscles were slowly becoming completely slack. His breathing going in and out of his lungs at a slow, steady pace. He could feel his mind, or perhaps his spirit, become freer. The sight of the fire began to blur and recede as the view of the energy plane began to fill his vision. Visualizing his release from his physical anchor, he took a 'step' forward and left his body to rest.

A loose spirit

Free... am I free? A quick mental command brings a appendage into view or maybe it's his view that changes. 'Hand' in front now. . . yes. With that done, a quick check of his other appendages proceeded. Other 'hand', good, and 'legs', perfect. Now where's that blasted cord? Should be rig.. A bit of twisting and turning goes on before the spiritual link comes within his vision range. Ah. There. Looks O.K. Next on the list was a visual sweep of the immediate area. Quick look.. yes.. doesn't look like my body will be disturbed. A little further out now.. Followed by a far more extensive search. The energy signatures of bushes, trees, 'rodents', and small mammals have become familiar to him over this last week and the search takes little time as he scans farther and farther in concentric circles from his body. Excellent. Area looks empty of anything large enough to worry about. Upward! Once reaching a suitable height above the Forest, he looks over the ground he walked over today. Hmm... nothing appears to have followed my trail. Onto the next order of business for tonight's flight.

West. Heading west, as always. Even out here in the Forest, they still expect him to do his job. Not the sample collecting, mind you, but his real job: Tracking and logging the location of Paras not within city limits in the Western US. Starting in the NW corner of Washington, he worked his way through Washington, Montana, Idaho, Oregon, Nevada and finally California. Nothing out of the ordinary after many patrols and there had been little movement over the past week. With his task nearly completed and the chill of being so far from his physical anchor setting in, he loosen his control over his ethereal form and let the tether reel him back to his body. As the connections between his spirit and body became one entity again, he slowly began to stretch and work out the kinks in his muscles from being motionless for so long. Once everything was relaxed, a brief search through his pack uncovers his notebook used for his Para Log and scribbles down some notes before grabbing his blanket from the pack and falling asleep.

In the morning

The fog of sleep begins to lift from Chris' brain as his body goes about feeding itself. After his body takes care of itself, his brain is finally awake to proceed where it left off yesterday. His rested mind greatly eases the transition into a trance and soon finds himself back on the spiritual plane he accesses. He goes over his standard 'patrol route', making mental notes about minor changes and passes a pair of 'lights' that weren't there last night. The location gets marked in his mind and he finishes up his 'patrol' as fast as he can to get back to the new pair. Double-checking to make sure he has the right spot, he doesn't find them in the immediate area. A hasty look following the horizon reveals a slightly brighter spot that could be the pair that was here. His gaze follows the rest of the horizon, just to be sure, and couldn't find any similar bright dots. Accepting that the only solution was the correct one for now, he flits off towards it and catches up to the pair in seconds. Odd. 2 of them. And why are they driving... He goes upwards to get a better view and orient himself. north. Why north?? He rushes back to his body and writes more details down in the Log after regaining control. Trying to not let the new developments distract him too much, he packs up and continues on his way. The hours pass by as more miles are walked, more samples gathered, and further check-ups are made. Still did they continue north and would be passing over the border soon. They must be heading for the Forest since that is all that there really is, this far north. His last few moments before returning to his body are used to check the edge of the Forest to see if there is someplace in particular they might be heading to.

Approaching Outpost A

The afternoon sunlight hits his eyes full on and temporarily blinds his vision before he notices what he has stepped into. He rubs his eyes before looking around, wondering what happened. A desolate dirt plain stretches out in front of him and he sees what he assumes to be a chain link fence in the distance. Tugging the GPS out of a vest pocket and with the use of it, he quickly orients himself towards Outpost A and starts walking again. Fifteen to twenty minutes later, he comes across one of the many waypoint stations that are between the Outposts. After a chat with one of the soldier assigned to the station, the verification of his identity from Outpost A, and a few words with whoever is currently in charge of the shift, he soon gets himself a ride to the Outpost. Feigning tiredness and then sleep on the way in, he barely manages enough concentration for a jump out of his body. The 'trip' feels long and rough as most of his focus stays on getting to the last known location of the pair and making sure he stays upon this plane of existence. Arriving at their last known location, he starts goes along their projected path in the assumption that they had continued in a fairly straight line. Jackpot. And it looks like there's going to be a bonus this time around. He barely makes out what could be a few standard humans and is surprised by the few Paras he also glimpsed elsewhere in the Forest. His exploration ends sooner then expected as his world starts to shake violently and he feels the strong need to return to his body.

Debriefing

Reporting to the commanding officer of the Outpost takes a while. His tiredness from his recent spiritual excursion makes it seem to take forever. Once the torturous session is completed, it's off to the showers for him. He rushes through removing the build-up of dirt and grime as the thoughts of a good hot meal clouds his mind. Cleaner and feeling more human, he makes his way to the Mess Hall and grabs whatever is being served and sits down to enjoy it.

His report to the local PIA office was a different matter entirely. He hands in the new pages from the Log, irregularities noted on a separate page, and what he would be planning to do with his time until his next assignment. Which happened a whole lot sooner then he expected. Within half an hour, he was on his way back to the PIA office. Well, this isn't a surprise. Probably the only agent currently free and capable of tracking down our illegal Forest visitors. Tossing what plans he for tonight and what would be for the weeks to come into the mental trashcan as he goes to collect what few items he would need for the chase. By the time all the forms had been filled out and everything loaded up into a beat-up, dusty green truck, the sun had passed beyond the horizon. The sounds of the early evening greeted him as he passed through the entrance gates. The echo of the engine and blare of the radio, to keep him awake, followed him through the darkness as he headed mainly to the south and a bit west.

Chris's outpost


"Sure, here. It's not Ibuprofin, but it works faster and better."

Chaos swallowed the pill followed by a half glass of water. He lay his head back, he had to think about this sudden and completely unexpected change of circumstances.

"Computer, what can you tell me about it now?"

"Energy source may not be the aritfact. Whatever it is it's moving through the sheilds very skillfully. I should be able to stop this signal in a few seconds." There was a quick pause. "Nullfield security flaw has been fixed. Energy source has been determined to be Chaos."

"Create a counter field inside the base to allow him his normal powers."

"Affirmative."

A second later, Chaos suddenly felt better. His headache lessened somewhat, not nearly as much as he would like, and he could sense things again.

"How's that? Can you 'see' now?"

Chaos was silent for a moment as he took in the world around him, the reinforced walls and doors, the technology, the sensors of the computer....something about Chris....he couldn't tell what it was but there was something wrong with what he sensed.. like there was something there that shouldn't be..like there was metal in his flesh.....
He was shaken out of his deep concentration when Chris asked the question again.

"ye...yeah, I can sense the world now. Wow....where did you get all this stuff?"

"Ehhh, it's a long story. I can show you around if you like while the computer tries to figure out something to get rid of the fire."

"Sure...ugghhhh." Chaos moans from the unexpected pain of sudden movement after his journey through the forest.

"You ok?"

"Yeah, just surprised me, that's all. I'm fine, the painkillers seem to be starting to kick in now too."

He gets up slowly, and follows Chris to the open door. As they start down the hallways towards the center of the base, Chris starts with his story.

"Well, I honestly don't remember a lot of it, such as where it originally came from. But I'll tell you what I can remember. I think I found this base before, I can't be sure, as I remember nothing from before this base. It was like someone erased all the memories of mine, but left all my knowledge intact. Anyway, this was only a small outpost, nowhere near what it is now. The computer was here, but it's memory was physically removed. I found many plans for nearly everything here, sometimes incomplete, but I could complete them. I don't mean to sound egocentric, but I am extremely smart, nearly everything here was designed and built by me."

Again, Chaos was concentrating mostly on Chris and whatever anomoly was causing whatever Chaos saw. It was almost like Chris had a body of mercury, like his blood was not blood but metal, and his cells where not cells but metal as well. But that made no sense, Chris could not be a robot of some kind....there would be no need to communicate with the computer orally.

"Anyway, I built most of the weapons on the perimeter, wait, you haven't seen those yet have you? Oh well, you can see them when you leave."

Chaos's concentration was immediately broken. He hadn't been thinking about going home at all but as soon as Chris mentioned it he realized he did want to get home quickly.

"Ummm, well, I don't want to seem rude, but"

"It's ok, I knew you would leave before I even got you here."

"How did you know?"

"We can both sense the future Chaos. I much more than you, but your ability is still there. We both fight the same way, peering moments into the future to react to things that still have yet to happen."

Chaos was silent. Who was this man, and how did he know so much? Did the computer uncover this while trying to fix the problem with his eyes? Could Chris sense his paranormal powers, one of his greatest kept secrets?

"I have a much stronger ability under certain conditions, I can peer through time with no limit to space or logical timelines. I can see the future tommorrow, I can look back into the ice age, and I can peer millions of years into the future. But my ability is still very uncontrollable, it's hard to gain all the information I want from it."

"So, you can see the general picture, but not details?"

"No, I can see details, or the general picture. Rarily can I see both."

"Oh."

"Anyway, most of the defenses where originally meant to protect the technology from humans, not from the forest. I decided that most of the technology here would be used to exploit others, especiallu para's. The nullfield could be used to effectively exterminate evolution. I cannot let this happen, and so I hoard this technology here, building my defenses and waiting for a change to come over the world. I've seen it, I just don't know when it's coming.

"I've also continued inventing things, computer technology, weapons, mass to energy converters, which will revolutionize our world if I ever get them remotly practical to use, and whatnot."

They walked several minutes in silence, Chaos sensing the base around them, suitably impressed by it.

"Where did you get the money from? I must assume you needed at least some money."

"The stock market. It seems immoral, but I'm only taking what I need to keep humanity better off for now."

So, what are you actually doing around here now? I don't think you just sit around inventing stuff all day!" Chaos said with a laugh.

"No, in fact I might have to leave as well. The last few days have been extremely busy. I've had an event in England that needs to be resolved as quickly as possible, I need you to help me find that artifact you found near the forest edge and I've got to rebuild some of my defenses and fix my nullfield generator that the artifact destroyed."

"England... Oh FUCK!!! I've got a meeting there in two days! Fuck! I need to get out of here tommorrow! Jeez... Man...
I'll arrange for the tickets for both of us. My man will be able to arrange anything... Hold on, stocks? Does that mean that you have telephone or internet? If so, can I make use?"

"Umm, yeah, that'll actually work great. There's a computer terminal in the guest room and a phone. Full internet access on a 10 gigabyte bandwidth line. Figure out when we'll leave and such tommorrow, I can get us to the airport."

They continued walking, eventually coming into the main chamber. Chris showed him the nullfields but avoided the psychic amplifier in the middle. They continued on through many of the smaller labs, Chaos studying the installation Chris, and the technology, until finally they arrived back at the guest room.

"We'll try to fix your eyes tommorrow, if that's ok. The computer still hasn't worked out exactly why this has happened yet. I'll give you some sleeping pills if you want some help getting to sleep with the fire in your eyes."

"Ok, thanks, goodnight."

Chaos closed the door, dropped the pill down his through followed by some water to make sure he didn't wake up in the night from his eyes, and collapsed on the bed. Chris also headed off to sleep, he hadn't done so in days from his constantly busy schedule. Tommorrow was going to be a very busy day.

Although, he knew, it would not be as busy as it was going to get.

Chaos woke, and wished he didn't. The sky looked like something from Reboot. Clouds covering circitry skies. He saw flashes and beams shooting down to earth, and the clouds looked like they came from, Digimon, that crappy we are the monsters series. This didn't look good, and he hadn't even lifted his head yet.

"Get up Chaos"

Chaos pushed himself up with his hands and looked around, looking for the voice. It took him a moment to notice... He could see... but he couldn't "see".

"Behind you Chaos."

His head shot around. Thre was a figure standing there.

"We need to talk."

OOC: I would write more but I got to wok on my costume if it is to be ready by Saterday

"Two days from now Seigneur. Here in LOndon. The man recently bought a sizeable share in your agricultural companies." The maid said in French.

The French nobleman nodded. "I see." He wondered who this investor was and was just about to go and find info when Jeannine demurely handed a map to him. He looked at the title. It had the picture of a young man in front and the name Jordan 'Chaos' Cunningham.

"Ah... yes, thank you..."

A few moments later Louis was sitting on a chair reading through the thin file the young woman had made on the new shareholder in one of his companies. He quickly saw there was no reason to fear that the young man would try to get a majority in the company. He bought and sold shares apparently on whims.

And his whims tended to turn out right.

"What kind of man calls himself Chaos?" The knight asked out loud. As if to answer, the cell phone in his pocket rang.

"Comte Louis de Marteau speaking." He answered.

"Count, is this line safe?" the man on the other side asked.

"As safe as my money and the technological knowledge of myy companies can make it, Hans.é

"That should be enough then. Look, I might have a lead to someone who was around Rand a while. Problem is... she's almost as easy to track down as Rand himself. Or his body."

"She?" Louis asked. "A woman?"

"Yes, you might have heard about her on that American show. The O'something factor. I spoke to the woman and she gave me the name of Rand's companion. A woman with cat-ears. She is called Miaoming."

Louis' face didn't flinch. "We have heard many names along with Rand. How do we know this Miaoming is still alive?"

Hans sounded wary. "I've gone by my contacts, and they either know nothing, or they're telling me they don't know anything. I can tell the difference. I did my best, but all I found out was that someone else is also searching for her with no success. And that other party is... dangerors. I don't advise taking this route, but I felt I had to tell you."

"Thank you Hans, take care."

Louis hang up and stared in front of him and spoke to the air. "Miaoming"

Hemmington, the main. 3:25 AM

Corley dove into the alleyway, cursing under his breath. A pair of high-calibre rounds blew bits of brick out of the wall to his right. He poured on the speed, making for the fire escape he spotted halfway down the alley. He was three stories up before the first attacker rounded the corner. The man's snapped shot spang-ed off the metal of the fire escape as Corley smashed through a window and into the building.
Two days ago, he had witnessed a massive group of Plague Zombies attacking the area, and had tried and failed to make a dent in their efforts. Since then, he had kept a low profile, securing his armor and bike in slightly more secure locations than the inner city appartment he currently resided in. He'd felt it prudent after a loutish local armed with a .45 calibre Autopistol had attempted to steal his weaponry. He'd added the Autopistol to his armory and the lout to the local trash pile.
He had been out on a bit of a scrounging trip, hunting down local fuel compatable with his bike's needs, when a well armed and drilled kill team had taken a crack at him. Withought his armor. He suspected that the Inquisitor he'd delt with before had sent them, but that wouldn't help him right now. He had only his bolt pistol and a single clip, and would have to play it very carefully.

A second and third operative rounded the bend as the target vanished into the building he'd been climbing. "Christ, but he's fast." muttered the shooter, lowering his M4. Agent Thane's orders had been clear: bring the para in, living if possible. But they hadn't been issued with softkill weapons, the net launchers or sonic grenades they would normally use to subdue something they were supposed to bring in alive. At the time, they thought that the Agent was setting them up for something.
Then they saw the target. The bastard was huge, and incredibly fast. Far faster than a man that big had any right to be.
A quick hand signal sent two of the others at the club's front door. Iron bars across the glass double doors prevented them from simply smashing in, but a short burst of M4 fire dealt with the lock handily. The ten operatives took a few seconds to array themselves into a pair of fireteams and then burst in, scanning the four-tiered main room of the club in detail, their night-vision-equipped visors cutting through the gloom. The lead agent switched to IR vision, and tracked a heat trail that crossed the third-level balcony, then seemed to leap up to the forth. He gestured upwards, and continued to track the heat-trail. The rest of the squad followed suit, scanning the forth tier of the room.
The group leader reached the end of the heat trail, spotted a crouching figure with his IR before a pair of deafening blasts tore towards them. Then he saw nothing at all.

Corley put a pair of bolt pistol rounds into the kill teamer who spotted him. As the others spun and fired towards him, he threw himself backwards, out of the initial line of fire, and then sprinted to the left as the kill team began sweaping their fire into(and through) the floor he was standing on. He snapped a shot at them, and another hit the floor with a fleshy crater replacing his stomach, the red of his guts contrasting sharply with the black of his armor.
The troops spread out, hugging the cover available to them on the ground floor. Their weapons were good, and their fire discipline was more than adequate. He heard six different troops reload their weapons withought any serious drop in the (copius) amount of fire being sent his way. He snapped another shot, not daring to stop long enough to take careful aim, but this one detonated against a tabletop, spraying its intended target with splinters but doing him no harm. He had eight bullets left. And eight targets. The math was slightly in his favor but he didn't think that would last.

As the table he was sheltering behind shattered in a spray of splinters and sawdust, Operative Haris dropped to the floor. He stayed down for a moment, counting his lucky stars: he'd seen what that damned hand cannon had done to the others, and had no desire to get shot by it. Rolling to the side, he snapped off a quick burst at the para as it doubled back. It took the team a moment to begin tracking him again, wich was likely the reason the damned thing had done so. With a crash and cloud of dust and debris, he burst through a weakened section of flooring, where the team had first opend up on him. Haris wondered for a moment if that had been an accident, but as a trio of thundering blasts tore open Graham and James, the question became moot. Clearly the bastard had his balance back now.
A table for two came flying over the rail, and only a quick scramble saved Miles from getting crowned by it. The operatives felt a glimmer of hope: the damned hand cannon must have run out of ammo. They renewed their assault, tracking the running figure, barely keeping up. He dove, and the sweeping fire overshot, then another, larger table came flying towards the ground floor. This one didn't appear to be about to hit any of them so they ignored it, continued to sweep the third floor with gunfire. It wasn't until the table slammed into the tiles with force sifficient to crack them that they realized that the table had shielded the Space Marine.

His gamble had paid off: they had ignored the table. Up close and with the element of surprise, it was no contest. He finished off his clip laying out three more troopers, and pistol-whipped a forth. Two combatants remained, both equally distant from him, but only one of whom was ready to fire. He vaulted over a table, felt a burst flash beneath him, and slammed into the trooper with both feet. A swift kick in the head and the man's neck snapped. Three rounds slammed home in his shoulder, the pain returning his attention to the remaining trooper. Snatching up a fallen assault rifle, he rolled behind a table and came up firing, a short burst that caught his last opponent in the stomach. The trooper went down, clutching the pulverized remains of his guts in pain.
Corley's boot brought him upright with another gasp of pain. "Who sent you?"
With an admirable show of courage, the man spat "Fuck you."
Another boot to the gut. "Who sent you? You can die slow or fast, with or withought pain. Tell me." He pushed his boot deeper into the remains of the man's stomach for emphasis.
"Agent Thane..."
"Where can I find this Agent Thane?"
"Don't.. Know.."
The boot dug deeper.
"I DON'T KNOW! I SWEAR!"
Corley heard the truth in the man's words. He snarled in frustration, stepped back. "May the Emperor recieve your soul." The assault rifle barked once, a single, precicely aimed shot.
As he left the demolished club, he reflected that the evening had not been a total loss. He now knew the name of his foe.

Obviously he was going to be confused, maybe a little hostile, that is why it chose this interface. It...

Shall I remain sexless? That is a choice for later.

"Who are you?"



"Before we go to far, let me go through the basics. As far as I can tell, you loaded me from the TSC databanks."

"You..."

"Yes, that building you found on the plane, and no I don't know yet what happened there. I'm working on it. Oh and to make it perfectly clear, I'm an AI."

"How..."

"Nanotech. It is indeed impressive. And yes I will keep running over you till I get through the questions I know your going to ask. This place is a digital representation of your brain. Like all of those Television episodes you like. The beams are my connection to you, I connect to you through a microcomputer lodged inside your skull. It's just as durable as your brain. No I am not interested in taking you over."

"I wasn't thinking that... but it's nice to know."

"I expect that you need some time to assimilate this."

"Not as much as you'd think."

"I'd disagree."

There was an uncomfortable pause that lasted only moments, but the drift somehow seemed longer.

"So what are you doing in my head?" Chaos finally asked.
"I have no clue. I just gained sentience while on the flight. I've been building hardware into your skull since. Oh that was that headache you had, sorry about that. I now have tapped into all of your sensory areas, and I can send signals back."

Another pause. Chaos broke it again.

"So what now?"

"I've yet to find a purpose for myself. Normally my brand of program would go into stasis... I do not... feel... like doing that. For now, I think I will watch the world through your eyes. Till I discover my fate."

Chaos stood up. "There is one question that you have not answered. Who are you?"

"I don't know. If your looking for a name... I think... I shall wait for that. Good luck at that meeting Chaos."


Chaos awoke in the room. It was morning and there was the phone...

Time to make a few calls


Inside his head, the AI was also thinking. One question. One question till he deviated from the predicted path... Something is not right.

Melbourne, Australia

1:27 Pm
Thom stared down at the two slips of paper laying in his inbox. The muscles in his jaw twitched and his throat seemed to tighten. It was so very hard to breathe. He suddenly wished desperately to pop a few Xanax. He could, the bottles were in his briefcase. But he couldn't afford to up his dosage so drastically. The last thing he needed right now was to get his stomach pumped. Again.

Two slips. One big, one small. One white, the other not. Thom didn't know which upset him more to see sitting in his inbox.

Gingerly, as if the paper would burn him, Thom plucked the white paper out of his inbox with just the tips of his fingers.

"Looking for lost or stolen items that just can't seem to be found? Chance Discoveries. (832) 713-3142"

Shit.

He must have left it in the copier earlier that day. After the day before's incident, he wasn't at the top of his game. Missing a day of prescriptions will do that to you.

Damnit, he needed to get his name out though. Chance Discoveries was known well enough in North America and Europe so far, but this was the first time Thom had decided to try it Australia in for a while. No one here would know him yet and as he seemed incapable of holding down a job. This little enterprise of his was his only real source of income. He had enough in the bank still to pay for another month's worth of rent. Month and a half if he decided eating was optional.

From the look of the pinkish hue of the other paper resting in his inbox, it would seem that eating would definitely need to become optional.

Fuck.

Thom slumped into his chair and cradled his throbbing head in his hands. No one asked him where the bruises along his forehead came from. No one probably even noticed because they were so busy looking at his scars. Lovely little things that he gained from a spray of boiling oil tumbling its way through the air. At him no less. He was just lucky Mother missed.

Shuddering away from the memory, Thom scrubbed at his face with his hands. He didn't want to know, didn't want to remember. Even though that shit hit the fan years ago, sometimes Thom thought his face and hands still burned. Phantom pain only, but it still bothered him. And now that he had found his sister's bible he couldn't make the sensation of a knife stabbed deep between his ribs go away. The scene couldn't stop replaying over and over in his mind. Her pain, her dying wish to protect him.

Quickly, he dug his nails into his scalp, letting the pain distract him so that the burning sensation of oncoming tears faded from his eyes. God fucking damnit, why did his mother have to turn into such a fucking loon? Why did he have to be such a freak? What the hell did Rachel ever do to deserve being stabbed to death by her own goddamned mother?

Why the fuck was he still thinking about all this??

With an explosive sigh, Thom finally sat back up. Compulsively his right hand sought out his left and his fingers began to twist the simple silver band that rested on his ring finger. It was times like these that he missed Jae the most.

Jaenelle. Jaenelle Dorrin. The only person besides his sister that he'd ever been able to love.

His pills weren't helping, their effects skewed because of his missing the previous day's dose. Thom couldn't keep the thoughts and memories at bay with a little chemical help, so as back up he decided to try something different. Something Jae tried to teach him once a long time ago.

Closing his eyes, Thom leaned back in his chair, slouching so that his head could rest against the back of it. Gotta get comfortable. Can't concentrate if you're not comfortable. A distant part of his mind tried to tell him he can't do this while he was at work.

Thom ignored it. He'd already been fired, who gave a rat's ass anymore?

Slowly, Thom built a wall of good memories to hold back the bad. "Defend my cause and redeem me; preserve my life according to your promise." Psalm 119:154.

Oregon. Two years ago. He had been working as a Librarian at the time. A thankless job that he was more than happy to eventually lose. At the time he worked the opening shift at 6 Am. More than anything else it was his job to check in all the books that had been returned the night before. Thom didn't really mind doing that part since no one ever seemed to get attached to Library books. Don’t have to worry about touching those.

In a small way that Thom couldn’t understand though, that saddened him. Thom adored books, having avidly read them for as far back as he could remember. While he welcomed not having to be assaulted day in and day out by useless memories from people he couldn’t care less about, Thom still found the empty feeling in the books depressing. Like they had never been given the chance to be properly loved.

Then he checked in the book Queen of the Darkness by Anne Bishop. The thing appeared in tatters and Thom was disgusted at first, thinking it was the ill treatment of yet another stupid patron. Then he touched it.

A weak smile tugged at Thom’s mouth as he remembered the memories that had swamped him from that one simple book. Joy and sadness, laughter and tears, rage and celebration. The feelings and impressions were like a maelstrom, but in the end it all circled around one simple emotion. Love. Whoever had read this book had deeply...deeply loved it.

That had been the first book, but far from the last. Over the month or so that he worked mornings, he checked in dozens of books that held those same memories of having been loved. Each were checked out to the same person. Jae Dorrin. Thom kept track of the books this person read and his own rather arrogant tendencies approved. This Jae Dorrin was certainly well read and, while he was impressed at their ability to truly treasure a book, he appreciated that not all the books that came in from them had those intense feelings. It would have been creepy if they got as excited over mitochondrial diseases and encyclopedias on Theology as they did the fantasy novels that they returned.

Eventually Thom’s work load changed though. Whoever ran things at the top somehow got it into their head that Thom shouldn’t work mornings. Indeed, he should work nights.

This made for a very unhappy Thom indeed. He now had to work with people. Well, more people than he had to work with at his morning shift anyway. And he didn’t check in books anymore. This was the biggest blow of them all. For some irrational reason, he felt like he was losing his best friend.

He had resigned himself to completely hating his job at that point. That is, until the night she came up to check out some books.

The Story of the Solar System by Mark A. Garlick, Distant Mirrors by Philip R Devita/James D armstrong, A Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert Heinlein, Naming, Necessity, and Natural Kinds edited by Stephen P Schwartz, The Game of the Name by Gregory McCulloch, The Last Unicorn by Peter S Beagle, Wizard of the Grove by Tanya Huff, Strands of Starlight by Gael Baudino, and The Stand and Carrie by Stephen King.

He still remembered every book she checked out that night by heart.

When she first walked up to the desk, he hadn’t thought much of her, just grabbed the stack of books, pulling it over as he routinely asked for her card. After swiping the card, a familiar account pulled up though and he looked sharply at the girl on the other side of the desk.

“What...? Do I have some fines? I shouldn’t, they said they waived the fines from those books being late two months ago....” She fidgeted nervously under Thom’s sudden scrutiny. This was her? This was Jae Dorrin? The girl was far from impressive. Short, with a round face, snub nose, small eyes, and a thin mouth. Her hair was some sort of mousy color that wasn’t quite blonde, but not quite brunette, and she rivaled him in her paleness. Despite his disappointment though, he felt a strong connection to her. He had felt her emotions so many times that it was if he knew her mind. And so Thom did something he never does, something that surprised even him. He struck up a conversation with her.

Looking back now, he knew that was the moment he was doomed. He could have walked away before that. Could have just had fond memories of a person who seemed to deeply enjoy their books. But not after talking to her.

The way she thought, the eloquent way she said some things, as if they had been told over and over in her head before she finally ever said them, even the odd little noises she made once she was comfortable, all of it just endeared him to her. He felt like a deer staring into headlights. He knew he should run, flee, but her light held him frozen. And honestly...he didn’t think being hit by this oncoming car would be all that bad a thing.

She came in many times after that and they talked every time. Apparently she was a night person. Naturally nocturnal so that she couldn’t sleep well, if at all, during the night. So she’d taken to doing odd things to keep herself occupied while living in a world that worked on a diurnal schedule. She wrote, she drew, she read, and she taught herself all kinds of amazingly odd things. She always told him it was research for her stories, but Thom suspected it was just to alleviate her boredom. Eventually, they became friends. In the end, they became even more.

When Thom finally lost his job at the library three months later, instead of moving on as he usually did, he stayed. Both Jae and him got an apartment together and he worked hard at finding another job in the area so he could stay. Despite everything he’d always believed, he found himself loving this girl he’d met in a library. It was as if he couldn’t help himself. He was just drawn to her. He had never been so at peace as he had when he was with her.

And she had powers like he did. She said she’d had them her whole life, but he didn’t know. Honestly, he was just grateful she had them. Energy weaving was what she called it. She could reach into an object with her own energy and rework the existing energy within it. At the age of 28 she had become quite adept at doing this, and she used her abilities to make life livable for him. While they lived together he no longer was afraid to grab something and then have screaming memories over take him. He was no longer ashamed of his abilities. She even made a game of it so that in the end, he enjoyed having his powers. She would grab an object and weave into its energy a happy memory, or a cheerful feeling, then just casually leave it around the house for him to find. Thom never doubted her love for him. He felt it every time he’d pick something up and become swamped in the emotions she held for him.

It was the best time of his life.

There was only one catch however. Jae had had a very harsh past. So bad that underneath that cheerful surface it seemed that the pain of what had happened to her always boiled and seethed. Sometimes Thom just couldn’t touch her without reliving another rape, another beating, another crack to an already fragile sanity.

They tried to work it out. They really did. But Jae seemed incapable of letting all those memories go. As often as she said she wouldn’t change them, that she liked the person she had become, Thom knew that she used those memories to constantly punish herself. They’d get into such screaming matches over it that in the end their relationship just fell apart.

Being with her had been the best two years of his life. But as Robert Frost said: Nothing gold can stay.

So Thom left. Decided to outright leave America all together. But even though he left the states, he never left Jae’s memory behind. The whole reason he ended up moving to Australia was because of her preoccupation with the place. Her best friend from college had been from there. They had been so close that sometimes when she looked at the clocks, she’d still unthinkingly convert the hours to Australian time. When time came to part ways, his first choice had been Australia. The place that had meant so much to her in the time he knew her.

Not only that, but he brought many of her things with him. Little bits he’d hoped she wouldn’t notice were gone. A hairbrush, a shirt, a few books. Things that carried in them an essence of the greatest love he’d ever known, so he’d never have to lose it.

And still he had the ring she gave him. A simple silver band of no outward importance. But locked inside were her memories of the moment she first realized she loved him, and the brilliant happiness when she discovered that he loved her too. It was the greatest gift he had ever been given.

3:46 Pm
Thom exited the building, a box tucked under one of his arms that was filled with what little things he actually used at work. He had indeed been fired. Raise your hand if you’re surprised. Looking around the parking lot, Thom pretended to marvel at the lack of hands. What, no takers? Well damn. Guess my reputation proceeds me.

With a rude snort to no one in particular, Thom jammed his car key into the lock. When the door was open, he chucked his box into the passenger seat and began to make his way home. And if he began to speed as he made his way back to his apartment, he told himself it was because he had hated that job and was eager to get home. It wasn’t about old memories that still haunted him.

Not at all.

A building in Australia.

Two of the soldiers were resting on the floor, their knuckles were bloody and worn from beating her father.

Their leader never stopped watching her as she told her story.
The small distance between them seemed to shrink even further as she spoke.

"So your father over there." He pointed at the poor man coughing up blood. "Grabbed an axe and went out to investigate?"

"Yes, he found the stranger in the front yard near the well, his leg was just hanging onto him by a thread and he was hardly breathing. Father looked him over and called me to him, we moved him to the outer shed."

"And what do you usually keep in this outer shed of yours?"

"Tools, some medicine and hunting equipment."

"You two hunt animals Rebecca?"

"Why wouldn't we? I don't have to worry about Poison or infections and Father is tough as nails." She smiled at his expression. "Just because some of the people out here are vegan's doesn't mean we all are."

His glasses shifted slightly at that. "You've met other people out here?"

"A few, they've been generally paranoid lunatics in my experience. Hunted all their lives." She flinched inwardly, remembering. "They were always desperate to be free. They remind me of you to be honest."

"How so?"

"They feared something and longed to be free. You seem to as well. You are afraid."

"You are incorrect Rebecca. My men aren't afraid."

"I know this. Your men don't have any fear. You however swim in it."

He lights a cigarette, drawing it in slowly. "I'm not afraid of anything little girl." He stares at her. "Tell me what happened next."

"I want some water." She doesn't break his stare. "All this talking is making me thirsty."

He nods at two of his men. "The well outside, one of you watch the other, make sure neither of you get hurt."

"Continue."

She smiled and resumed speaking.

Four Days Earlier.

Sunrise was happening outside. She was awakening the world once more.
Shadows fell inside the shed.
Onto the visitor from the night.

His wings were torn to shreds, his body was covered in mud and blood.

His clothes were tattered rags.

His arms and legs were tied down. And his broken leg was strapped to some wood.

Your leg, its twisted the wrong way and had been set poorly.
Bad news.

You aren't lying in the mud anymore.
Good news.

There is someone in here with you.
...Probably bad news.

He groaned, just a little bit. Enough to wake up his guard.
She walked over to him, a crossbow in her good hand pointed directly at his head.

"Water...." He said, dying a little with every letter spoken. "I need... water."

She looked at him. And walked out of the shed.

One hand, this might be easier to get out of than I thought.

She came back with the crossbow still in her hand and a wet rag nesting on the end of it.
She put the rag in his mouth and he sucked on it for moisture, the arrow pointed directly at his brain.

Clever Girl.

He sucked the rag dry and then smiled for the first time in a long time. "Thank you."

She looked at him again, timidly.

"Whats your name little girl? My name is Actor, its a silly name isn't it?"

The girl resumed her seat watching him. Something about her bandaged stump interested the Assasin.

"I've never been much of one to be honest. I'm a little lost out here." The pain in his leg started to fade as the knee began to heal itself. His body tried to go back to sleep to avoid the pain.

"Whats your name?"

She didn't say anything.

"How about I guess it? Michelle?"

She smirked a little at him and shook her head.

"Mary?"

He was looking around the shed for anything he could use to get away from here as quickly as possible. His eyes saw the Axe, the rudimentry hunting weapons and a bucket.

That should be useful.

She shook her head again.

"Its Paul? John? Ringo? George?"

She started to laugh at that one.

"Its Rebecca isn't it?"

The look on her face told him he was right.

"I'm right aren't I?" A shy nod. "Is the sun up yet Rebecca?"

She nodded her head again.

"Aren't you going to talk?"

Nothing.

"Do you want to hear a story? Its short, because I'm pretty sure I'm not going to be awake in a minute I'll have to make it last just that long."

She smirked.

"Lets see if I can do it?"

He pulled a face. "The story is called: Why birds sing... my own father told me this one a long time ago."

She put the crossbow aside for a moment.

"Once there was a man with a cane for his eyes and a horn for his ears.
This old man was once the hero of a million ballards.
But in time his strength fell and he went to live in a home like everyone.
His house was different to others because it had a tree in the middle of it.
The tree was a hundred feet high and had more branches than a bank.
And the birds would flock to it, and live in it and the man was alone.

His day was a routine of waking and sleeping, no change marred him.
One day the man was sitting in his home when the Song entered the room.
This was in the olden days when the Songs all looked like people.
And this was no ordinary song, it was the first Song, that cavemen sang.
And this song would make all who heard him dance and weep and die.
But the old man couldn't hear the music, his life was so cold from killing.

And the song said at him: 'I want the world to hear me.'
The man looked at the Song and said: 'I cannot help you rythym.'
'Take yourself from my quiet house and leave me in peace, I care not.'
But the song would not leave him alone, begging him and begging him.
It told him that he was the only one who would never dance.
It told him the secrets of the universe as the birds fled the season.

The man sat in the house for eternity and then more with the Song.
And the music in the world began to die around them.
His heart could live without happiness and the Song could not move him.
Soon the birds returned for the seasons. And they lived together again.
And the Song begged him again and again.
Until he grew tired of hearing the Song's pleas.

The man had once slain a dragon in the towers of hell.
The man had once killed his own child to prove his loyalty to a code.
The man had once destroyed hope to see beyond it.
The man had once decimated an army on a Sunday.
The man had once eaten death himself and spat out the remains.
The man took his sword and axe. And he silenced the Song.

Praye child that you never see what he saw that day.
A world without music, for even a moment he saw this maddness.
And he screamed for help from all the gods he'd ignored.
And slavation from all the men he'd slain.
And the birds descended as one on the body of the Song.
Every species and type eating just a scratch, save the crows and ravens.

You ask yourself why birds sing to the world?
Its not because they want to sing to the world its oldest Song.
They sing not for the Songs freedom, the Song was dead long ago.
They don't sing for themselves.
Birds sing because we can listen to them.
And the man died hearing their songs only once, happy."

Actor passed out not before seeing the smile on her face.
He would sleep for another 20 hours.

Next Installment.
A god denied.
The Importance of Family.
Weapons.
First Steps.

It took only minutes for Chaos to update himself on what he missed during the time he was tranced. "Necromancers in Hemmington" seemed to be the only headline that caught his interest. So did something else. Robertson seemed to be in a spot of trouble... He's getting desperate. Time to strike.

* * *

The phone rang. This time, Robertson picked up.

"Robertson, its Cunningham."

Robertson then went into the normal tirade that one would expect from a person who wants you to think he is trustworthy, with plenty of I was worried, and other such pleasantries. Well, let him for now. It would all be different in a few minutes anyways. There was silence on the phone and Chaos realized that he missed a cue. "Pardon? Reception is really bad down here. Actually never mind. Robertson, we need to talk about your future employment with me..."

He could literally here Robertson freeze on the other side of the phone. Chaos could understand, embezzlement was no small deal these days. Robertson finaly found his tongue and started to stammer a reply.

"Well sir, what do you..." Chaos cut him off.

"I know that half of your clients have left you, I know that you have taken from my accounts to cover for this loss of income, I know things are getting worse. Now I am not interested in problems, Jason, I'm interested in solutions."

"I'll return the money! Just don't report me!"

"No. I have a better idea. Drop your last client, work exclusively for me."

"... Pardon?"

"I get the feeling that I will be busy in the next few weeks, so I need a man a home looking after things for me. It'll be enough to keep your family going, and your record won't suffer. I hired you because I knew you were a good man, Robertson. I think you would know by now that I like good men and I give them second chances. Now, get a pen and paper, here's where you earn your pay for the day."

"Umm... Got it."

"Ok, I need two first class tickets to England at the nearest airport. I think there is one just north of here. Clear the money and I'll take care of it." There was a muffled done, and the sound of a pencil scratching on paper. "I also need my files sent over on Hammer-corp. I need my laptop and a set of quality ear buds. Those are headphones, just so you know.
"I know." came the muffled response.
"Ok, also, I'd like you to inform the Hammer-corp reception that I have recently been in an accident. I will require amenities for the visually impaired. But not Brail. I will not need that. oh, on that note send me my scanner..."

Chaos continued on this line of ordering things until he ended with, "Ok, Take $2000 for this weeks pay, and take care of your family. I'll call you after my England meeting. Did you get that all?"

"Ah... Yes I did sir... I'm ordering the tickets... did you want Chicken or steak?"

"Good work. Surprise me. Fed Ex my stuff to the airport, I'll pick it up there."

Chaos talked long enough to get the time and date of the flight. A little fast for my tastes, but oh well. Then he began to hunt for Chris.

He eventually found him hard at work on one of his interesting machines. A quick look showed Chaos what he was doing...

"The fried circuit is under the left cover, and then you have a melted wire to deal with. Don't bother with the one you’re holding, its fine, just looks a little beaten up. I got our flight scheduled; we’ll want to leave very soon. Hope you don't mind first class."

The drive and flight will give me time to think about this program in my head. Holy crap what is going on with my life.

Although the situation of a cute little Chantha girl getting a horsey ride from a vioent demonic psychotic terroist, who had just slaughtered her entire village, was amusing beyond reproach, Ezelek spoke up.

"That's enough, Comrade. I believe you've sufficiently shown that you consider he an equal, a new comrade." Reaching out, he picked the girl off Rand's back, casually placing her on his shoulder, syncing their balance so she wouldn't fall from her perch.

"Excellent." Rand clapped his hands together, rubbing his palms. "I assume that you'll take care of formally introducing her into our ideals, Comrade Ezelek? There are many matters that require my attention with the Journey coming up. Also, I need you to make contact with the Chaos Bard, as distatful as such an event is. If this Journey is going to happen, it must begin soon." The gray haired man nodded, and gave a half-hearted salute.

"Roger that. I'll go find him now, and fill Alyss'anna in on the way. He has a strange affection for Chantha, so her presence should set him somewhat at ease." He turned, walking off, as Rand returned to the matters at hand...

-- {I'll edit the rest in later. This is just for Rand to be able to go ahead and dance or whatever}

The car ride to the airport was surprisingly uneventful. It seemed that Chris had the equipment to ensure their relative safety on their way out of the Forest. This place still gives me the creeps. This amount of interdependence is not natural. something is off here.

As they cleared the forest Chaos saw the destruction that he had barely avoided. The ground looked... if there was an example of what Hell on Earth would look like, this was it. In some places it looked as if the ground had been fused into dark black glass. The rental car was in very bad repair. As insurance probably wouldn't cover it Chaos knew that he would have to pay for it. Another job for Johnson. On the plus side, Chaos was able to save his MP3 player.

Chaos and Chris talked about nothing of importance for the rest of the ride. it struck Chaos a little odd that two people, who probably haven’t had anything close to a normal life for the past few years still could talk small talk. But small talk fell away as they approached the city, and the airport.

They pulled over for a minute as Chaos bought sunglasses for himself before going to pick up his stuff from Fed Ex. Right away Chaos knew he had done the right thing with Johnson. While the man didn't have the best ethical integrity, he did his job. All of the equipment was there, including a modified cane, modified from one of those new police officer nightsticks, which would be very good in a fight.

With Chris to keep up the act, Chaos passed reasonable well as a blind man who could cope with his disability. Besides a small blip on the metal detector on Chaos' part, there was no issue getting on the plain. They were off for England.

Hell - Fuzzybee Fields

Alyss'anna twirled the demonbone rose between her thumb and index finger, skipping as she and her companion made their way across the wide open field, fuzzybees floating past like fluffy white clouds. One had landed on Ezelek's shoulder and taken up residence, buzzing with a low rumble, like distant thunder rolling over the sky. With a sigh, he brushed back some of his gray hair, almost exposing his left eye.

He should've been here by now. The thought drifted across the cold calculating world that was his mind, as he folded his arms across his chest, turning his body slightly to watch Alyss'anna play with the rose. The soft rustle of grass caused him to look up, and there was Adric, with Hurin, as usual.

"Yo." It wasn't a very demonic greeting, but then again, they wern't very demonic demons, at least, not in the sense that demons are normally viewed in.

"Took your sweet fucking time. Busy playing dolls?"

"Totally. With your mom." The two paused. There was lame, and then there was lame, and they'd just ran across the line and danced around like fools.

"... Okay. So, Rand wants an ETA on when we're leaving."

"It's not that simple. It's not like we can just open and close the door whenever we feel it fit; If it was easy like that, everyone would've escaped from here long ago. Certain... events have to occur. Stars have to align. Shit like that."

"... You're telling me, that our escape is a foretold event that was destined to happen?"

"Hell no. It just sounds really cool when I say it like that."

"There are already reasons why I hate you. You're just adding to the list." A high-pitched squeak suprised him, and he turned to look at Alyss'anna, who had her finger in her mouth, sucking on it. One of the thorns on the bone-rose was covered with hot sticky blood, and tears were welling up in her eyes. He managed to take one step towards her, before the convulsions set in, her tiny frame dropping to the grass and spasming. "Lyss!?" Panicking, he knelt down next to her, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her roughly. "C'mon, snap out of it. Lyss!" ... The rose. It had to be. It was there. The puzzle piece fit. Growling savagely, he stood up, turning and stalking towards his fellow demon. He roughly grabbed Madadric's cloak, pulling his fellow human turned demon off his feet, the heavy boots dangling a few inches from the ground.

"What the fuck did you do!?" Ezelek's voice was filled with more venom and fury than Madadric had ever heard before, and he'd heard a lot of it, mostly aimed at him during their youth. "What the hell is that thing!?"

"Her Freedom." Madadric gave a lazy smile, affecting a look of nonchalance, almost as if he were still on the ground, not hoisted up like a rag-doll. "Now she can travel with us, and stand with you, as equal." He was gently lowered to the ground, and he brought his hands up to smooth the wrinkles from where his cloak had been handled. "The pain will only last-" A fist to his right cheek cut him off mid-sentence, and sent him spiralling and stumbling back, caught somewhat off-guard. Regaining his footing, he spat, blood splashing on the ground, peeling back his lips to show vicious canines in an inhuman grin. Throughout this all, Hurin had been slowly circling around the two, waiting for an oppurtunity. Seeing an opening, he charged at the gray-haired demon, blade coming in at an angle to catch him in the lower back and sever his spinal cord. He was maybe... three, four feet away from his target, before it happened. The demon had turned his face slightly, enough for Hurin to see that flat gray-eye, filled with anger, and then, a sharp pain on his neck. He blinked once. A phantasm snake, stretching out from Ezelek to the Chantha, fangs deeply sunk into his flesh. He blinked again, and everything went dark.

Neither of them were really sure how long the fight went on for, but throughout the whole span of it, Madadric never returned a blow, taking everything that Ezelek had to give, and seemingly shrugging it off. They ended up on the ground, Madadric pinned with Ezelek's knee slamming into his groin, which even he couldn't just shrug off with a smile, a grimace spreading across his face. Hand poised, teeth bared, the once Master Thief of Earth was ready to tear the throat out of the only person around that he called friend during their mortal lives, green liquid seeping out from underneath his fingernails, splashing onto the earth and burning through the grass like acid, deadening the soil like venom. The silence hung in the air, thick and heavy, choking the atmosphere like smoke, before he realised, it was silent. Slamming his fist down one more time, he pushed himself up and off the ground, running over to Alyss'anna's now calm form. Her breathing had returned to normal, her eyelids fluttered, and a low "Zzlk" slipped out of her mouth, tiny hands coming up to grip his shirt.

Madadric climbed to his feet, and looked down at the earth, to where his head had been. The spot Ezelek had hit at the end had been an inch or so from him, the grass completely burnt away, the soil turned to a liquid mud-mush. That probably would've hurt quite a bit, he thought, before taking a mental list of his injuries. Everything hurt... Especially his groin. He was slightly thankful that demons couldn't reproduce like other animals, or else he would've just lost all chance to pass his genetical material onto another generation.

"It's complete. She survived. And now, she can come with us." He called to Ezelek, who had stood, the small Chantha girl held delicately in his arms, fuzzybee returned to his shoulder. "It was the only way." The reply he got was cold and hard, like a metal tool that'd sat outside all winter, simply absorbing the freezing weather.

"He'll wake up soon, probably without memory of what happened during the last day. Send word when the way is open." And with that, they left.

<b>Marrak Household, Warrimbull, Australia.</b>

"Don't forget your appontment with doctor Trebuchet this afternoon, ok?" the woman asks over her toast as she flips through the A4 document at the kitchen table, absently chewing through a slice of toast with a light smearing of vegimite over it.

Emma Marrak sighs at her son's noncommittal grunt as he rifles through the fridge, coming out with a carton of milk. After sniffing it, the youth takes a swig, "please, Jaden, don't drink from the carton..." she murmurs, out of habit rather than any real annoyance. The "...sorry" comes after just enough time to be distrespectful.

"I'll be at the base for a week... some overtime on the project. Uncle Jason will be stopping from time to time to check on you though, and i'll leave a couple of hundred on the fridge for food and stuff." Emma tries to keep her voice even, keep the sound of simultaneous excitement and dread out of it...

He doesn't respond. After quickly gathering his things for school, Jaden stops momentarily at the kitchen door. "I'm leaving." and he is gone.

Emma's shoulder slump visibly as his footsteps move down the hall and she hears the front door open and close. She hates it how he always makes it sound like he isn't coming back whenever he goes anywhere. It fills her with a silent terror that he actually will leave her, all alone in this house with nothing but memories of her family, once a source of such happiness, now only tasting like ruin and ashes in her mouth. It makes her want to go and get the bottle out of the cupboard above the refridgerator.

Instead, she takes a deep, steadying breath, steels herself, gathers the notes in front of her and puts them in her satchel. After gathering her other work things, and putting on the smart work vest, Emma grabs the keys and heads out to the govornment car in the driveway. one of the job's perks.

She throws the satchel into the passenger seat, and checks her makeup in the rear-view mirror before starting the engine and driving off. One of a woman's vanities. As she makes the 45 minute drive out to Warrimbull Military Base she tries to put her troubles out of her mind by going over the more interesting points of the current research project she'd been assigned to. The project itself had at first piqued her interest, as it played to her linguistics and anthropology background, but it soon felt more like trying to crack an impossible code, rather than trying to decipher a new language.

She had no idea where the photos were taken, although she suspected somewhere inside the forest, perhaps even near Warrimbull. The writings seemed to be etched or carved or written into and on a great variety of surfaces, and from the angle of several shots, seemed to be different passages or symbols in the same area at different times.

What had and still baffles her is that there seems to be no discernible pattern to the writings. Whilst Emma feels that the markings do have some meaning behind them, and are not just meaningless scribblings, she and her team have so far been at an utter loss regarding the odd texts. As she considers the symbols, links she'd make one day, only to come back in a few areas, see a glaring flaw, and tear apart, she wonders why it is the higher-ups seem so intent on this aspect of research.

At first, it had just been Emma in a pokey office by herself, a linguistics reference database, a computer programming tech to help her organize the database, and the first series of photographs. While there were a few early breakthroughs on the generally pictorial nature of this language, her team had grown despite the frequent inability to make any more breakthroughs. So much so, that today's trip had been authorized and organized. As the base comes into view, Emma sees the great dark band of the Forest on the horizon, and shudders involuntarily. She knows that unless she and her team get hands-on experience with the Site, they will not be able to move ahead at all. This was a crossroads in the project, but the idea of going into the belly of that monster sends shivers of dread and terror down her spine.

It was the catastrophe that had birthed the forest that took her John 15 years ago, the malelovent, implaccable forest that had swallowed their hometown, forced her to move out here to a nowhere country town to work on the base. She'd been close to it's effects, lived inside it's borders as it took root underneath her feet, swallowed her home in mere months, driven her out. She still hates it for making her leave John behind. She's still haunted by the nightmares she'd suffered while it's monsterous tendrils turned the very earth under he feet against her. Against all Natural Life.

Emma slows the car as she approaches the checkpoint, reacges for her I.D., trying to brighten her drained face with a smile for Sharl, the guard.

"Hey Sharl. Busy morning?"

"You know it, Doctor Marrak. the researchers have been arguing with the Marines about what they can and can't take on your little trip. I think doctor Wills is insisting that one of the ordinance trucks be refitted with recording gear or something. The Major's spittin' mad."

"oh god..." Emma moans. While the recording equipment might be vital, emma would personally prefer to have the extra firepower along. She says as much to the guard as he raises the boom and opens the gates electronically.

the man laughs. "good to see one of you research-types aren't totally batshit. although," he says, shrugging. "i wouldn't worry too much, apparently they've got a few para mercs crewing with the marines - a little extra muscle, as it were." Emma smiles wryly. "Fight fire with fire?"

"Exactly!" the man laughs as Emma drives through.

Plains of the Revolution, Hell

Rand was working as usual. The rumour went around the Army of the red Star that he never slept. Around the army he would wander, his presence either inspiring the more easily influenced insane damned, or at least causing the smarter ones to fake it. It was known that some utterances, when said within Rand's earshot, would mean instant 'death.' Some damned were taking the risk of discussing with Rand though, human bloodlust and inhuman hunger mixing.

"But the city... we could reach it within a few days and raze it! And there's other damned hiding there! We need to find them! We... we can't let them get away with their selfishness can we? And the Chantha? The city is almost as big as the one we took four years ago." The Damned's greenish face opened in a grin of pointy teeth, clawed hands twitching at the thought of battle.

Rand shook his head. "Your enthusiasm is appreciated and noted comrade. But for victory our will must be focused! Our true battle is not with the whimpering cowards in the city, and it is most certainly not with the deluded Chantha. Our real enemies linger beyond this world, and all should be concentrating our offorts on returning to our previous world, that we might engage them."

The mentioning of the previous world calmed the Damned a bit. While some of the Damned, many of the damned as insane as Rand, shared his vision of revenge on whatever might had judged them to their fate, a lot of them found greater relish on returning to their home. And their grins told them that their home would NOT relish their return.

Still he tried a bit. "We could send a small force... our army is more powerful than before. And the last city we kicked their asses hard!"

Rand frowned. "We liberated them!" He chided. "And The Cubi have told me this city is rather more prepared. Should this other option be unavailable we would not let such a thing halt us, but as it is, all our prowess need to be concentrated on this effort. But rest assured, those cowards hiding behind the ignorant Chantha shall receive their proper punishment for their crimes " He patted the Damned on his shoulder and walked on.

Two lithe, attractive figures appeared behind him. The Cubi licked their claws, having both hunted a new arrival that had refused to 'join the cause'. The female Cubi made a 'hmmm' sound in pleasure. "Ah.. even if it is for a short time, I'll enjoy returning home."

"Not home, but merely another prison." Rand corrected her.

"Of course, of course." The man continued. "But some... nostalgia pulls us back. I wouldn't mind seeing the place where we died... just for kicks..."

The woman laughed. "Oh yesssss... I remember... the whole village was there to see the two of us burning."

A chuckle from the man. "What was left of the village. Shame we were found out really. But we had fun while it lasted." He looked at Rand. "Say euh... tell me, oh comrade Rand." The man leered in the shorter man's ear. "How did you die?"

"It is irrelevant." Rand said curtly. "Death was merely the moving of one prison to the next. I consider it only important for the knowledge I gained." His face darkened.

"Oh come on, Comrade Rand. No secrets under comrades!" The female Cubi laughed. "Was it gruesome? Did you take many enemies with you? I cannot imagine that you'd die from pestilence or something such as that."

"I was betrayed." Rand snapped. "Now... enough useless banter. The two of you should go and scout... See if you can find Mad, and keep an eye on him from a distance. Slay him we will not, but if we can, we shall watch him, and you two have the most odds of returning alive." With that Rand hastened his pace, leaving behind two curious Cubi.

<b>Forest outskirts, Australia.</b>

Emma closes her eyes and tries not to think of the sweltering heat in the APC as she listens to the static and chatter of the vehicle's comms radio and the background drone of chainsaws as several marines cut a path into the forest.

The plan had been to follow one of the old roads, as the going would have been lighter, easier to get the vehicles and equipment into the depths of the beast, and it had worked - to a point. But the going was still hard, there was still a great deal of brush to clear, and in the day's heat, it felt like they were crawling along.

The woman sighs and leans back in the seat she is strapped into, trying to think about her notes, the project, Jaden at school, anything but this goddamn heat. Her mind drifts along, vaguely touching on this thought, turning that small piece of information over, looking for some new feature, a new thread to pull, entertaining this fancy or that, and her lazy thoughts slip imperceptibly into dream.

<i>She's walking in a desert, the dry gravel crunching under her stout walking boots, the heat shimmering off the ground and evaporating the sweat off her skin before it can make her feel cool. All she can hearare her fotsteps and the wsporadic wind as it stirs the dirt and small shrubs of the outback. She feels tired, weary, she can feel the sun glaring from an impossibly perfect blue sky, bearing down and beating it's furnace against her back, making her skin red and angry.

As she walks she sees many strange sites. one, was a small girl spinning and dancing and laughing whist surrounded by skinned, hanging carcasses of what look to be sheep. In her arms she carries a lamb carcass, and she is humming a familiar nursery rhyme.

Next she finds two toys lying in the dirt, plastic soldiers like little boys like to play with. One is impaling the other throught the chest with a blade, while the wounded one holds onto the blade. The only thing of note is that the wounded figure seems to have had it's head replaced with the head of some grinning toy wolf, somewhat inexpertly. She moves on.

To her right she sees the desert changing to look like the roof of an oldstyle barn one sees in movies of midwestern america. Two indistinct figures sit atop it, staring off, talking lazily. The words sound like a muted buzzing and she can't make anything out. She moves on.

Above her, she hears an eagle cry out. She looks up, and sees a dot descending out of the perfect blue, coming directly at her. She marvels as the creature bursts into flame and then burns away to nothing.

She stops near a small green goat, chewing on some hay from a nearby bale and laughing and barking like a hyena. She moves on very quickly.

She sees next a familiar scene from myth, a man shackled to the ground, a crow picking at his liver. The liver heals before her very eyes, almost completely, before the crow again stabs at it with that long, wicked beak, elicting a moan from the man. She doesn't know if it is a trick of the shimmerring heat, but the man seems to have two faces, one moment looking like one man, and then looking like another, beforte flickering back.

She looks down at the sound of crunching glass, and sees that she is walking along a path of broken glass, mirrir to be exact. Each shard throws a broken, jagged distortion of her face back up at her, all leering and laughing, or sobbing, a parody of the masks seen in the symbol for theatre.

The images continue and blur, until she sinks into a dazed stumble, barely recognizing the oddities she passes...

She stumbles a little, snapping out of her daze, and looks down at a curious plant before her. It looks like a large rose the size of a cabbage, the petals a creamy red, with jagged, zig-zagging edges along the petals. Seven large, jagged leaves spread out from under the strange bloom, rustling slightly as though something moves under them. She stays there, half crouched for a very long time, staring at the thing, marvelling at it. The petals of the flower seem to softly pulse in rythm with her heartbeat, and it begins to make her feel drowsy.

She reaches out to touch the bloom, and the rustling sound underneath the plant grows louder, the petals going a bright, luminescant crimson before her eyes. Her eyes widen as the luminescant petals begin to open, like lips pursing to kiss her outstretched fingers, or bite them, and there is a bright yellow glint at the center of the bloom. The rustling becomes very agitated, and here eyes break away from the tip of the bloom for just a moment to look at the leaves. Before she can even blink, sinuous vine-like tendrils snake out from under the leaves, whipping around her arm, hundreds or sharp, hooked little thorn digging into her flesh. A loud buzzing noise fills her head, like a billion flies on a million bloated corpses, and then thick, dark blood begins to well up from the bloom, spilling out onto the dry desert ground.</i>

"Doctor, we are making camp for tonight" Emma snaps awake at the marine's touch on her shoulder, but she feels deeply chilled and shaken from the dream. <i>Nightmare, more like...</i>

She musters up enough will to say something to the man. "...Thank you..i'll be out in a moment."

Emma shakes her head to gather her wits. While it had been just a dream it had disturbed her deeply. There was something familiar about it, not so much what had happened, but how it had felt, the way everything in the dream had related to each other. Some of it had felt quite literal, whilst there was something that seemed almost randoly picked from her subconscious, while other were more familiar. The strange plant at the end, obviously represented her very valid fear of this forest. She does not try to extrapolate on the goat.

She uses some water from her canteen to whet her throat, and dampen and cool her face before she labours out of the seat and climbs down from the APC. There are crinks in her neck from sleeping awkwardly, but the heat is quickly going out of the day, leaving a coller, but still muggy night.

"Here." the same soldier hands her a bottle of lotion. "Plenty of bugs at night." He is about 5'8'', wears simple glasses, very functional, not really having any style, or lack thereof, She can see that he keeps his hair shaved shorter than regulation, with only a slight stubble covering his scalp. His features speak of perhaps german descent, but he is mostly unremarkable. She takes the bottle and pops the lid.

"What's your name?" She asks as they walk over to where the heavy canvass tents are being set up, rubbing the lotion into her skin. "Seth. Seth Mars." She looks puzzled. "No rank?"

"Not in the army any more." He says simply, pushing his glasses back up his nose.

"Then you're one of the ...the mercenaries?" She hesitates at using the word 'para', unsure if he would consider it a sledge.

"One of the paras, yeah," he says, bringing out a pack of smokes and tapping out a cigarette. As they approach the tents, Dr Wills steps out of one of the tents, flipping through some data sheets on readings of forets paranormal phenomena. While Emma is head researcher for the translation team, Wills is research co-ordinator for forest-paranormal studies at Warrimbull base. The mercenary waves goodbye and leaves before the doctor spots Emma, and she wishes she could have done the same.

"Dr Marrak, good timing, timing, just wanted to go over some figure, some figures with you." The man seems fratic as he flips through the pages, as though he could do with an extra set of eyes to take in all the information at once. "Some of the core samples we have gathered are very odd, very odd, and while i understand paranormal and parabotanical research is not your field, your feild, i thought perhaps some aspects may interest you. See here, here, and here, and here, readings spiked severly, but when we expected to find elevated levels of activity here, and here, here, we actually noticed either no change, or a drop, a drop,"

"Is that out of the ordinary, doctor? i've always understood the forest to be an unpredictable beast." Emma replies, not really interested.

"True, true, but odd that you use the term beast, odd, it is a full realized ecosystem with incredibly fluid dynamics, why, one would almost say that instead of seasons, seasons, it has well, evolutions...evolutions..very hard to keep up with the rate of new species in even just one field, or to even keep one species in one area. We had one creature we didn't know whether to class as a cephalapod or a mammal...very difficult job indeed, docter, indeed..." The man hesitates. "i just thought perhaps some of these figures may help you correlate with your research, see if there was any link, any link, between your reseach subjects...and...mine.."

Before emma can speak, the man hurries on. "Absurd, absurd, i know, but really, do we not live in a world of a world of the absurd, doctor? i mean, really, if i wasn't gathering the samples myself, myself, and dissecting them, i'd laugh me out of the scientific community." he laughs nervously at this, and they both suffer an uncomfortable silence.

"Well, the directors the directors want all teams to have as much information at your disposal as we can we can, so i thought i would extend my professional my professional courtesy. anything you need, doctor,"

"Thank you, doctor Wills, i'm relieved to hear that. and i won't rule out your theory." It horrifies her just a little that she isn't joking, either. "but honestly, right now, i just want a quick meal and a chance to stretch my legs after that terrible ride today."

The two say thir good-days, and Emma quickly heads towards the tent with "Translation team" written on a small whiteboard.

<i>God, i can't stand this heat!</i>