| Volleyball 2004 |
 |
| "...shut it down at three," Eliot was saying as I reached the bar. "Three, can you believe it? Half the people there had only arrived an hour before. Most of 'em were just coming up on their pills, for Christ's sake. Then pow, f**k off, thank you very much for coming. The stiffs fill their quota at the door and then don't give anyone a chance to bloody well enjoy themselves. DJ's pissed. Then I'm dealing with hordes coming up to me saying, 'Eliot, what the f**k's going on mate? Just got here man, paid thirty at the door!'." He noticed me then. "Why do I work for these people, Russell? Can you tell me why?" "So get a day job," I said. "Bugger that. Punching a clock like a good little drone and dealing with who-bloody-cares office politics to sell widgets to stiffs who sell them to other stiffs and think they're bad asses when they go out drinking Labatt's at Crocodile Rock?" "So work freelance," I said. "You've got enough connections. Throw your own party." "Come on," Jeff broke in. "Where's he gonna get the capital for that?" "Sell drugs," I said, pleased with the segue. "Speaking of which, anything still kicking around?" Jeff dragged deeply on his cigarette and reached into his front pants pocket, producing a wad of handkerchief wrapped around some unidentifiable object. "Nothing much other that this." Jeff handed me the wad, his eyes darting this way and that. I flashed a grin as I accepted the unknown object. "Got it from off-world," said Jeff after another drag on his cigarette. "It's not much--but it's better than the crap I've been getting lately." "What is it?" I asked as I unfolded the faded blue handkerchief. I frowned. They looked like jewels of some sort--multihued and brilliant. "Never seen anything like this." I frowned in puzzlement. "They call it nojshe--or something like that." Jeff laughed. "Don't ask me what it means. Those aliens have some weird languages. But it does the trick--if you know what I mean." Jeff took another hard drag on his cigarette. "So, what does it do?" I could not fathom how to use the crystals--or what they would do to me. "It induces a psychedelic euphoria...takes you to a whole new level of reality." "But how do I take it?" A wicked grin flashed across Jeff's face. "Well, my friend, let's just say it involves a bit of dexterity and washing your hands when you're done is highly recommended." There was a pause while his words sunk in. "Sounds a little strange!" exclaimed Joe brightly. "Maybe this is the break we've been waiting for!" "Hold on," cautioned Frank. "I still think we should wait and ask Dad about it." "Aww, c'mon," Joe replied, eyes dancing. "You know he won't be back till at least Monday. We could have the case solved by then and have a real story to tell him!" Frank shared his brother's eagerness, but still - something didn't seem quite right... He addressed the mysterious man again. "Tell me, Mr...what was it..." "Nojshe," repeated the old timer. His voice was low and rough and his hands were gnarled. He could use some of Mom's apple cobbler, thought Joe. At that moment he cannot help but wonder at the oddness of the world. He looks at Jeff, Russel, Frank, and Joe... Where did they come from? Where am I anyway? The world moves about him. Tall, gray structures fill up the grim, smog-filled expanses of the sky. A bubbling maelstrom of sounds, of voices floods his ears, followed by a sense of disorientation. Must stay calm. His breath quickens. Must be having a bad trip. I'll just walk away. "Where you going, Robert?" calls a voice. Cannot reply; will not acknowledge them. Must get away as fast as possible. His footsteps quicken. Robert moves through the crowd at a frenetic pace, his eyes darting this way and that. A large man with a grey-streaked black beard, a woman who looks to be a man dressed as a woman, an elderly couple striding hand-in-hand, young couples, businessmen in blue suites...He shakes his head as he pushes through the mass of humanity. Must get away. Hide in darkness away from the constant terror, the fear, the overwhelming anxiety of life. His pace slows. The crowd is at a standstill. What can ever be happening. Robert stands on his tiptoes trying to see. Nothing. Only an endless array of human heads. He looks down at his feet, frowning. "Just want to go home," he mumbles, an image arising in his mind at these words. Warmth, comfort, peace, solitude--and fresh air not stinking of pollution and human sweat. A smile crosses his face followed by an expression of extreme worry. Oh, crap! I left the coffeepot on. The house will be burnt to the ground. A gutted structure. Charred and blackened brick. Everything meaningful in my life gone. Desperate now, Robert pushes his way further into the crowd of onlookers that have gathered, heart racing - it couldn't be, his mind babbled, not her, not my Shnookums, my sweet little hellcat, the Fates could not, WOULD NOT be so cruel... He elbows the last rubber-necker out of his way and stands over the broken body, all twisted limbs and pooling blood - heart-wrenchingly beautiful and elegant even in roadkill form. And what was that, clutched in her hand, almost out of sight? A tiny flash of gold. Robert's stomach lurches into his throat as he recognizes the necklace, purchased for only ten bucks from the same guy who always had the good blow. She'd gushed when he'd shown it to her - ('Oh baby, I love native art,') - how could she be gone now, how could he go on without her carefree laugh, her welfare cheques? Before he could gather his thoughts he hears hooves clapping upon the stone-paved road on which he sits holding his love. He looks up to see a large black horse with a rider, which is hooded and dressed fully in black. An evil darkness swirls about the rider as he slowly approaches him. "Robert..." the black rider says. His voice booms through the air. Lightning flashes and thunder shakes the earth as he speaks. Robert gently drops his dead consort back to the ground and stands slowly backing away. The rider continues to come closer, the evil darkness become clearer and more prevalent. "Robert..." Lightning burns the sky and strikes the earth before him. He jumps back in fright and begins to run, but quickly stops as he sees another rider, but with a drawn flaming sword. The two riders quickly close in on him, though the walk slowly. The darkness envelopes him completely. His heart burns as he is thrust through with the flaming sword. He lets out a yell, which goes unheard, and lets his body go limp, though he falls slowly and gently. Boiling blood sinks between the stones and rushes like a river, multiplying. He takes a last breath before the blood drowns him. He sits moments later, his mind spinning, unaware of what has happened. His eyes dart around him, but he recognizes nothing. Then, he realizes that he�s himself again. Elliot, still behind the bar, watched young Joe�s eyes refocus after their brief sojourn in psychedelia. He glanced warily at the nugget of nojshe in Jeff�s gnarled hands. �Jesus Jeff ... all you did was hold it up in front of the kid and exhale on it, and he turned all glassy eyed for a minute !�. The old man�s toothless smirk seemed to silently mock everyone present. �Wait a minute. I thought you said taking the drug required a certain degree of dexterity ?� Elliot paused, uncertain whether to surrender to a brief surge of nervous laughter, or to back away fearfully. The old timer stirred reluctantly from his self-amused reverie, drained the last of his bourbon, and slipped the mysterious nugget back in his vest before continuing. �Heh heh, ah yes. True. True.� He slid his empty glass towards Elliot. �It�s very brittle you see. By crushing one of the facets and blowing the resulting dust in someone�s face, the particles can dissolve into the bloodstream through the mucus membranes of the eyes and lungs ... but the effect is very short acting that way.� Everyone�s attention was firmly fixed on the old timer, as he continued. �To use it properly, you have to insert an uncrushed crystal directly into the mucosa of either the excretory or reproductive orifices ... and far enough inside so that it can be slowly absorbed anaerobically, without the effects of oxygen, and without falling out prematurely.� Elliot felt the room tilt crazily for a moment, as if he were drunk on nitrous oxide ... apparently he�d inhaled a few of the lingering airborne motes of the nojshe dust. Time, and the music on the jukebox playing in the background, both slowed eerily, and he peered about at his friends as he tried to steady himself with white-knuckled fingers ... and noticed they seemed glassy-eyed too. The old timer gave a brittle knowing smirk as he stood, and then he sauntered towards the exit as those nearby slowly struggled to swim back towards reality. "Taken properly, the effect can last for many days. Some of humanity's greatest works of art and literature over the centuries have been penned while under its influence" he mentioned over his shoulder. "And no, I'm not saying who or what" he added with finality, just before disappearing through the doorway. Frank shattered the silence by exclaiming "...Jesus..." Eliot heard the clunk of a dropped flashlight followed closely by a muffled thud, like a baseball bat slapped hard against a rain-soaked sack of grain. The wetness of it sent scores of tiny razors flitting into his stomach and against his chest. He raced in the direction of the sound, the beam of his own flashlight dancing crazily upon the walls of the cave, his boot impacts on the gravel as loud as gunshots. "Frank?" he yelled, except the yell came out more like an asthmatic gasp. "Frank man?" As he inhaled for another try his left foot came up against an immovable object and he went sprawling, flashlight sailing from his grasp and shattering somewhere in the blackness ahead. Sharp sediment cut into his cheek and he felt a wet warmth there. He pulled himself up and continued forward blindly, hands splayed in front of him like some deranged Boris Karloff. "Frank!" he managed, louder this time. Then without warning, he became aware of a mass at his feet - bending down he felt the unmistakable texture of Frank's Gore-Tex pullover. Gotta check for a pulse he thought, feeling for the neck... The seconds ticked by, became heavier, sliding like melting ice on a warm windowpane as he realized that Frank's head was gone. Without warning there was a loud explsion. Eliot turned around. A gas station just blew up. He rushes over the scene. There, next to the fire stood a clown. He was all ugly looking. Red Hair all over, tore up clothes, and most noticably, he actually had a arrow going through his head. Eliot says "Is your head OK?" Clown "Oh, Ill be fine. Old battle scar." "Battlescar?" Eliot replies. "Oh yeah, I was wondering throught Nebraska and they still have Indians living there." The clown says akwardly. "Im out of here." Eliot goes. He suddenly sprints off. And behind him, the clown is following. "For the love of God, leave me alone!" Eliot cries out loud. The mad clown then stares at them piercingly. He stands unmoving as black clouds roll in at supernatural speed. Lightning electrifies the sky and the earth goes black with violent trembling. Elliot and the others nearly fall to the ground as everything seems to spin. Blood red light begins to flash across the earth, enveloping them in stuffy suffocation. Abruptly, everything stops and the earth is once again black, but for only a moment. Lightning flashes once more, and freezes in the air. In the doorway stands a dark figure, dressed fully in black. His eyes glow red and blood drips from the corners of his mouth. Elliot lets out a frightened yell and looks aside. Jeff lies on the floor, looking unconscious. Elliot looks back to the doorway, but it is empty. The lightning remains frozen in the sky. He rushes to Jeff and notices two puncture wounds on his neck. He checks for a pulse. Nothing. He jumps up and spins around. There lie Frank - headless. Elliot crumples into the floor in helplessness. He closes his eyes, trying to make everything go away, but only opens them to see the dark figure staring back at him. "Nooooo!!" he yells. He jumps up and makes a violent dash to the door, where he runs outside. The gas station explosion remains in frozen view. Everything is so unmoving. So dead. He feels frozen also. So helpless. Where are the others? What is going on? What has happened? If only he knew. He begins to run, looking back at the dark figure that comes towards him with supernatural speed. "Elliot...." a deep voice whispers through his mind. "Elliot. You can stop running, there is nothing you can do." Elliot continues to run as he grips his head tightly. "Stop running. It's hopeless. There is no one that can help you." "Nooo!!" Elliot screams. He continues to grip his head and his pace slows as he tires. He thrashes his head about, trying to erase the voice that is there. He falls to the hard pavement of the highway, which he has been running down since he reached it. He stares up at the frozen sky, his head leaking blood onto the road. The sky begins falling...falling on his helpless self. His energy has left him. He can do nothing. His mind is filled with hopelessness as the sky and all the elements crash onto his body. He feels no pain, only ecstasy. He had thought it would be painful. The smile crosses his face and he realizes he has been bitten. He is a vampire. And he is hungry. He sits up and makes eye contact with a beautiful young girl, whose shining eyes somehow seemed larger than milk saucers. �Are you all right ?�, the girl asked, awash with concern, and speaking in a voice a full octave above his darkest fantasies. �I heard you cry out, and rushed over here from the ice cream parlor.� she continued breathlessly. Elliot glared at her hungrily ... his eyes slowly caressing her long blue-black be-ribboned hair, her long pale neck, her delightfully girlish prep-school uniform, and impossibly long legs, before slowing returning to stare fixedly at the soft pulse throbbing in her oh so virginal swan-like neck. He sat up, made eye contact, and focused the full weight of his dark spirit upon her. �Who are you, lovely one ?� he drawled mellifluously, reveling in the proximity hot young blood to satisfy his ravening thirst. �I ... my name�s ... � the girl spoke dreamily, her eyes glazing in response to his hypnotic influence. She searched her memory, momentarily uncertain of her identity �... Sayaka.� she continued weakly. Her pulse hammered within her breast, and strange desires coursed through her. Never had she met anyone so ... forceful, so compelling, and so ... masculine. Elliot rolled gracefully to his feet, and willed his victim to sleep. He swept her into his arms as she swooned, sprang for the nearest wall in a flash, and ran along it towards the comforting embrace of the deeper shadows. The scent of her blood, her sex, and the feel of her soft girlish flesh against the tightly corded muscles of his side were driving his heightened senses, and his hunger, past the point of madness. Like steel springs, his mighty legs propelled him from sheer wall, to fire escape, to lintel, to window sill, and on up the gap between two buildings until at last he reached the roof twelve stories above the darkened street. Seemingly safe for the moment, he relaxed his grip, and felt Sayaka�s pert girlish form slide enticingly down his side and leg**, until she stood on swaying her own, in a dreamy trance. Three figures suddenly emerged from the nearby shadows, and Elliot turned his blood-maddened gaze upon them. Fury filled his soul, and he crouched protectively between his prey and the newcomers. His eyes glared redly, and his nails and fangs extended like daggers. �SHE�S MINE !!!�, he bellowed as they moved closer. He grinned fiercely, already drunk on the violence and destruction he was about to unleash. The lead figure reached into it�s cloak, and withdrew a deck of cards. "No. She is not!" The holder of the cards was no more than a youth, his pale blue eyes wide and innocent, yet somehow filled with a sense of age and wisdom. His blondish hair stood of end, spiked and pointy. "Who are you to say such?" said Elliot, his eyes flashing a wicked red. The hunger was upon him. Three more victims would do nicely. He smiled wickedly. "You are but a boy. How can you hope to contest me--a Vampire!" The youngster's face took on a strange cast...something changed about him. He drew a random card from his deck. "Dark Magician!" A figure in dark robes coalesced from nowhere armed with a long staff. "Attack!" Espressionless, the Dark Magician raised his staff, his dark eyes cold as ice. Brilliant flame erupted from the staff, a beam of light flaring toward Elliot and Sayaka and engulfed the vampire, dispelling it. Sayaka�s eyes cleared rapidly, and she stood blinking for a moment. She took in the scene at a glance, knotted her fists, closed her eyes, leaned forward, and began yelling shrilly at the top of her girlish voice. �Youspikyhairedlittleidiothowdareyoudispellmynewboyfriend ?!� she shreiked, without pausing for breath. �Alongcomesthefirstmantonoticemeandyouhavetogoanddispellhimbeforehecansomuchaskissme. OooooooohImsomad.� she concluded, before finally refilling her lungs. She gave Yugi-oh a spiteful and coldly measuring glance. �Oh, you like card dueling too ? So do I. Get ready to lose, you meanie.� She added, while producing a small deck from seemingly nowhere. She smoothly drew 5 cards, grinned after glancing at them, and promptly played her hand. Five cards suddenly materialized face-forwards in the air before her, and she intoned �I play two white lands and a black land during the land phase. I tap the black land to cast a Dark Ritual to provide three extra points of black mana. Then I tap my two white lands, and use the 5 points of combined black and white mana to summon my Serra Angel..." �Asuriel, I command you to bitchslap Yugi�s Dark Magician !� she yelled in a rush. The stunningly beautiful angel nodded towards Sayaka, then spun about, lept into the air, and flew towards her enchanted opponent. Grabbing the startled magician by the front of his robes and lifting him up on his tiptoee, she began slapping him from side to side in rapid succession ... forehand ... backhand ... forehand ... backhand ... each smack louder than the next, until eventually the magician disappeared in a puff of purple smoke. Yugi-oh�s two companions began to titter, and Yugi blushed deep red in shock and embarassment. �Damn, she�s cute� he thought to himself. Not only was Sayaka cute, but it seemed she was a pretty decent card duelist too. Before he knew it, Yugi was deeply in the throes of a full-fledged teen crush. Suddenly throwing caution to the wind, he walked toward her, ignoring the knots in his stomach and the dull throb at his temples. He could feel the eyes of his companions burning a hole into his back, willing him to fail. Be cool, he thought. Just be cool... Sayaka was deeply absorbed in what looked like a journal, her raven black hair spilling down over the white page. Asuriel preened as usual in front of her seemingly omnipresent hand mirror. Neither of them noticed Yugi as he reached their place by the fountain and stood over them, his larynx suddenly and magnificently bereft of life. Why is my arm hanging like that? he thought distantly. Asuriel caught his shadow then and glanced up, eyebrows raising slightly and her upper lip taking on a subtle curl of disdain. It was - Yugi realized - her normal expression. "Do you want something?" she asked. Her tone was one of a feudal mistress addressing a serf in the fields. Sayaka raised her head - God! Every motion was grace! - and regarded him, her eyes questioning but not unfriendly. "Hey. Hello. Hey-ho," Yugi said. Oh, goddamn it. Asuriel's eyebrows went up an additonal two millimeters. "Hi there," Sayaka said pleasantly, after a beat. Come on! Ask her if she'll... Quote: YUGI-OH (internal mental voiceover) ... meet me someplace to share a pop and do a little card trading. Don�t be a wimp You can do it. The camera switches back and forth between Yugi and Sayaka ... the former obviously intent on making the latter�s acquaintance, and the latter intent on getting caught up on her journal entries for the evening while deciding whether or not to let her latest suitor crash and burn. And we pull back and cut to -- CLOSING CREDITS: Standard random montage of snippits from all prior episodes to date, all rapidly intercut together with the usual music soundtrack. Quote: NARRATOR (voiceover): That�s all for this episode of IBDoF Vollyball folks. Tune in next time to see if Yugi-oh and Sayaka become an item, and to find out more about the mysterious old timer. Adult Swim is next. All kids out of the pool ! Kevin Palmer Productions Ltd, all rights reserved. FADE OUT --------------------------- IBDoF EPISODE #15: Crystal Dreams By Brad_H TEASER FADE IN: (shot on film) INT. BAR FROM EPISODE 1 Elliot (still behind the bar), Frank, Joe, and Robert are still standing motionless at the far end of the bar. All four are still deep in the nojshe trance, their drinks untouched since the old timer�s departure several minutes earlier. Meanwhile, in a distant corner of the bar, a figure reclines in the shadows, smoking a cigarette, and calmly observing everyone. He�s apparently been there all along, but nobody noticed because the camera never panned in his direction. Snubbing out his cigarette, and exhaling a lungful of cancer, he slips out of his chair, and glides out of the bar with an oily grace that�s hard to follow. It quickly becomes apparent to the viewer that this is someone who�s spent many years perfecting the art of being unobtrusive. INT. HALLWAY The figure glides down the hallway, past the usual payphone and cigarette machine nestled between a deuce of restrooms, past the coat room, and through the back door into the service alley. The alleyway�s dark, and most of it is taken up by a large battered green dumpster marked �Palmer Trash Haulers�. CLOSEUP SHOT We see the character close up for the first time. He�s a clean cut 30 something with chiseled features, brown eyes, and nicotine stained but otherwise impeccably straight teeth. He�s looking off camera in all directions, obviously annoyed that he�s momentarily lost his quarry. He also seems VERY worried - as if either a lot of money were at stake, or a major agency of some sort was involved. The viewer is left with a vague sense of urgency, and wondering if the man is either ex-military, an alphabet soup agent, or perhaps a P.I. of some sort. We fade to ... OPENING CREDITS: Standard opening of the IBDOF Volleyball logo, followed by a montage of different people from different walks of life, all typing away furiously at their keyboards ... each author overlaid with an image from one of their episodes, all rapidly intercut together with the usual music soundtrack. <commercial break> FADE IN (to episode title) ... "Crystal Dreams" INT. BAR FROM EPISODE 1 Elliot (still behind the bar), Frank, Joe, and Robert are beginning to pull out of their nojshe trance. Long slow moment of camera panning back and forth between the four, as they slowly regain awareness and movement, one by one. Quote: ELLIOT: Whoa. That was totally freaky. One minute I was here, then I ran into an insane clown and an exploding gas station, then I was a vampire about to feed on a cute teenybopper, and then I was in some sort of playing card duel with a short twerp with a bad hair job. Quote: FRANK: It�s a mystery allright. (turns towards his brother, Joe). I think we should try to follow that old man, and find out where he got that crystal. That�s dangerous stuff. Fade to ... EXT. ALLEYWAY The mysterious figure is running up the alleyway, picking his way as he goes past the usual back alley debris of litter, empty crates, stray cats, and large puddles. He pauses to listen, and just over the faint din of traffic we hear distant footsteps receeding further ahead of him. The chase is on, and the figure races on with a burst of renewed energy. Dashing around a blind corner, he�s suddenly greeted with a stout plank of wood across the chest, which snaps with a loud report. He staggers briefly, momentarily stunned, as his attackers makes a getaway down a cross alley. EXT. STREET CORNER ADJOINING ALLEY The escaping figure comes into view, and the camera focuses in. It�s gotta be one of Quint's lackeys, wrote Gard. He paused to light a fresh cigarette, then bent over the keyboard again. Should Joshua give chase? Might stretch credibility since he's just been clubbed in the chest - although the audience is gonna see how much of a badass he is later anyway...hmmm...maybe his eyes should be hazel instead of brown... If he does give chase, and catches the lackey, there's definitely gotta be a flurry of adept chocky-socky from both of 'em when they go at it - it'll establish that they're both pros - or at least, that the lackey's competent but no real contest for our hero. Gard stopped again, brought up the screenplay window and skimmed the text once more. Switched back to his notes. Hope the director's down with 'oily grace', he wrote. Wonder if Palmer's made his decision on that new guy they're considering over from Warner? I think he did a few Twin Peaks and Northern Exposures, didn't he? His cigarette smouldered forgotten in the ashtray. God, here you are again. Blabbing to yourself in these goddamn notes when you should be doing five or six pages a night on the scripts. Gotta have this sucker finished in three days. The phone rang then. Gard picked up what was left of the smoke, reached across the desk, and lifted the receiver. "Hello?" ...Gard! Gard, is that you?" It was Susan's voice. "Listen, I don't have time to expain, but you have to come over right away.� She concluded tearily, on the edge of hysteria. The pale glow of the bathroom�s lone flourescent light made the growing welt on her cheek look even uglier. The dark tears of mascara that ran down her face matched the blackness in her soul. Unable to look herself in the eye, she spun around, clutching the cell phone like a life preserver. "Hon, what�s wrong ? I�m in the middle of ...� he floundered, caught off guard, and automatically lapsing into his usual modus operandi of mental triage to keep his competing deadlines and crises sorted out. �Just get over here !!� She shouted, unable to contain herself anymore. The phone fell from her hand, and her world dissolved into another crying jag. She heard the phone shatter on the floor, but she was beyond caring. Minutes later, she looked up from her damp mascara-stained hands, and found herself sitting on the rumpled bed. She was still naked. Surveying the chaos of sheets and clothing, she blanched at the memory of the past few hours. Palmer had carried her into the room, tossed her on the bed, and ravishing her like he usually did in that wild, animalistic way of his that she loved so much ... and afterwards, in the rosy afterglow, her jealousy finally overwhelmed her better judgment. She told him she KNEW he was a player, and that he had multiple girlfriends scattered around the world, and that the casting couch in his office saw regular action too. She cornered him because she was utterly convinced that he loved HER the most out of all of them - that she was THE ONE for him. After he�d smacked her, and threatened to fire Gard if she tried to tell anyone, she�d been utterly thunderstruck. He�d stormed out without even a backwards glance. Bastard. She sobbed anew. Poor Gard. He�d been so good to her for all these past months - so faithful, so trusting, so dependable, so romantic ... and so charmingly naive. Despite his facade of being a hard-bitten screenwriter, he was a true boy scout at heart, and he genuinely cared for her. She just wished he wasn�t such a pushover, and such an utterly incompetent lover. Hung like a pimple too. Against her will, she already found herself missing Palmer ... his rough hands, his rutting sensuality, his dominating personality, and his blinding physical power - and his willingness to weild it. In a dark, twisted part of herself, she even liked it when he abused her ... and she hated herself all the more for that. Despite Gard's flaws, she sobbed at having cheated on him ... and she was worried what he might do. Unlike Palmer, Gard was maddenly predictable, and she was genuinely worried that he�d try to confront him ... and wind up dead in one of his dumpsters as a result. Meanwhile, the nojshe has kicked in again and Robert is unaware of who he is or where he is. He looks at the world around him. Liquid moonlight pours over him. Stars twinkle brightly overhead. Everything seems fine. Suddenly, everything begins to spin. He realizes he cannot stand alone, and drops to the ground, which feels like iron. Below him forms a grate. He looks down in horror and tries to crawl away, but he can't. It's everywhere. The iron turns hot. Hot as fire. He yells in agony, but he cannot escape it. He looks around desperately. Everything has turned black. "Damned to hell!" Screams a voice. He cannot find where the voice comes from. He continues to yell in agony. He is spinning so fast he cannot stand, but the iron grate underneath him burns his skin harshly. He starts to feel suffocated. The air grows thicker and thicker, he can scarcely breathe. The voice yells out once more, this time with a laugh. Robert falls flat on the hot grate and grips his throat, struggling for breath. The blackness around him is consuming him. Suddenly, the grate begins to glow red. It becomes hotter and hotter. All is silent, for he cannot breathe. Bright red and yellow light begins to glow from underneath him. Then, flames spurt from every square in the grate, consuming him completely. He thrashes his body about, but it does no good. Once he has burned, his body turns to ashes, where it drops through the grate and falls below. The ashes begin to stir, driven by the four winds which blow in all directions. The ashes swirl and spin, creating a whirlwind. Suddenly, his body reforms. He looks around, taking deep breaths. He is in a pit. Above him is the grate. How will he escape? Will he be stuck there forever? What will he do? He shakes his arm in pain, and a black, whisp-like arrow shoots from his fingertips. He jumps back in fear, wondering what has happened. The arrow pierces the iron floors, sticking straight up. He looks at it, and quickly walks away, wandering into an unknown passage, lit by fire. He starts to hear screams - screams of agony. As he walks deeper and deeper, he starts to see visions. Dead deteriorated bodies reaching for him and moaning in agony. Skeletons chained. He grips his head to make them go away, though it doesn't work. "GO AWAY!!!!!!" He yells. At his voice, everything quiets and he sees nothing but the passage before him. He wanders deeper, until he finds a great room, completely of iron. A small fire in the center casts enough light for him to see. The small fire suddenly explodes into a much larger one reaching the high ceiling. Robert jumps back in fear, and stares at the mighty fire. "In the depths of hell you wander." Robert looks around, but sees no one. "So, you defeat me, then you will rule hell until you are defeated." Robert looks horrified. Rule hell? Fight who? With what? A dark figure steps into view. He stands, not saying a word. Robert stares at him, then suddenly another back arrow flares from Robert and pierces the mysterious figure right through the heart. The figure staggers and doubles over. "Magnificent powers..." Robert is frozen in horror, yet thoroughly confused. What had happened? Had he defeated him already? The figure conceals a grin as he stands bolt upright. "You'll have to do better than that." His evil laugh carries through the place. He flicks his hand and a flaming white arrow heads straight for Robert, who tumbles out of the way. What in the hell is this? he wonders, fear pulsing throughout his being as the brilliant white arrow shatters against the clammy, dripping stone just above him. Robert lets go a gasp and scrambles to his feet. His eyes dart this way and that, searching for escape. Yet it appears that he is trapped within the murky, choking depths of the pit. "What do you want of me?" Robert is desperate now. "Why are you trying to kill me?" The dark, hooded figure laughs. "I could ask the same of you, my boy." Another brilliant white arrow erupts from the dark figure's fingertip. Robert moves out of the way just in time to avoid the incandescent bolt. "You seek my death...I am merely returning the favor..." "I didn't mean to--it was an accident!" On a whim, Robert extends his right hand. A black shaft shoots forth, flying towards the dark figure. However, the inky projectile disintegrates before it can reach the dark figure who merely laughs in wicked amusement. "You really think you can destroy me." A flash of white teeth stands out in the eerie dark of the pit. "Yet in so doing, you will destroy yourself." The air before the dark figure begins to shimmer, coalescing into a flaring, indefinable brightness. Intense heat emanates forth, making the stifling, stagnant air of the pit even more suffocating. It is all Robert can to do to keep breathing. Sweat slicks his body, drenching his clothing and stinging his eyes. "What do you want of me?" gasps Robert even as he slowly collapses to the hard cobbles below crushing his hand in a sickening crack. He yells out in pain, but has no time to think about his hand, for he has to roll out of the way of another flaming white shaft. It clings upong the stone and iron floor as it hits. The dark figure allows him time to stand and says, "You can never stand up to me, you weak and feeble creature." Robert is still puzzled, but the words of the man - or whatever it was - angers but a little. He narrows his eyes, and flicks his fingertips. Once. Twice. The black shafts explode around the figure, never reaching him. Frig...he has some type of shield. The figure laughs harshly as he shoots forth several of the white arrows. Robert jumps this way and that, but one make its way to his thigh. He stumbles, but manages to stand. "You can never be greater than I. Let's just end this now. It would be so much easier." Robert slung his hand towrads the man in rage, a ball of black fire spitting forth from it. It penetrated the shield, and caught the man in the chest. In fright, Robert continues to throw bound black flames at the figure, who eventually, after several blasts, staggers backward. Robert stops and steps further away, backing into the sweating walls. the figure has lost it's incandescent light and his shield has been ripped down. The figure hovers above the floor, the black fire balls forming a knot at his chest. The knot grows and becomes larger. And larger. And larger. It soon overtakes his body. All is silent and frozen for a moment. Suddenly, there is a hot blast of fire which streams forth from the black-knotted body. Robert is thrown against the wall and he squeezes his eyes shut. He hears a loud explosion, which leaves his ears ringing. After a moment, everything is silent. He opens his eyes and turns around slowly. The figure is gone. His own hair is singed, along with his beard and clothes. He steps towards thre place where the figure last was and stares down. Without notice he was sucked into the great dark below, His mind awhirl with the implications of where He went. "Oh, God! Why do I descend into this Gaping maw, this vile maelstrom of ill intention?" But no reply did come: only silence, terrible and Forbidding. And fear did swell in Robert's heart, As he did enter fully into the very circle of Hell Where Fallen Angels and the Souls of the Lost do Dwell in endless torment and timeless pain, their Bodies held bound by ethereal chains and the hot Clasping hands of Satan's desire. "Please, God, no!" Cried Robert again. Yet no matter how he struggled, No matter how he cried in desperate hope, still Did he descend into the writhing depths of black Despair. And visions of terrible agonies induced By evil fiends plying the impliments of the torturer's Trade, their gaunt, toothy faces spread wide with Glee as they took full price for sins and lies, and Other failings not evident in life. Yet past all these Scenes of mauling and mangling, evisceration And more did Robert go, his thoughts awhirl with Impossible dread, for in the distance did he espy A great swirling cauldron shimmering black, yellow, And red, emanations of pulsating heat swirling Forth, searing his soul to its very core. And a great Monstrous figure stood at Chaos's source, a terrible Winged Dragon with eyes of glittering flame. "What Is this horror I do see?" asked Robert, his voice lost In the midst of hellish intensity, sounding weak and Fragile as a newborn babe. Yet no reply did come as Robert drew ever nigh the source of all evil setting At the center of Time. "Welcome to my demesne," his Wicked jaws open wide, his terrible fangs aligned and Glittering as the swords of an endless host. Terror beat In Robert's heart upon hearing this dread voice, which Echoed like thunder upon the distance, almost flashing With the jagged brightness of lightning driven upon The winds of elemental fury. And petrified now beyond Aught he had ever known, Robert drew nigh the Great Dragon and smote his fist upon the inn�s hulking door of oak and iron with a preternatural strength bourne of terror and near-madness. �Awake!� cried he. �Harken, all those benighted in Sleep�s lulling arms!� Moments tinged with intimidatory algor to match the deep winter night passed slowly; nay desperate eye nor straining ear were granted sign of life from within. The bloodless half-moon shone from a sky black as polished ebony, distant church spires raised sharply against its pallid face like seeking fingers. Twice and thrice Robert again smote the door, crying: �Awaken! Mayhap there may yet time remain!� Soft orange light shone forth from two windows then, and long moments later the heavy whine of pulled doorbolt assailed the silence. As it swung slowly open Robert discerned the blinking and curious face of wizened Tobe, lantern held tremblingly and nightcap tilted aslant. �Robert? Robert!� rasped the old man. �What befalls thee, that I should be beaten from precious slumber by the voice of a raving bedlamite?� Closer inspection of Robert�s gaunt stare brought immediate alteration to his deportment. �What has happened?� he whispered. �For I am in vain to recall a time when I have gazed upon countenance so deathly and fearful as thine�s!� �Alas! I fear it to be worse than thou hast described!� choked Robert. �For this night have I glimpsed the terrible face of Von Palmer�s unholy creation! I have seen Darb�s ghastly figure as it slouched its way forth upon a moonlit ridge of snow! Death comes nigh to us ALL!� Tobe�s expression changed to one of horror. "How can it be that fell Darb once more roams the night, seeking out blood and death?" The oldster's words quaivered forth from trembling lips. "And von Palmer, I thought he had met his doom that evil night forty years past when the Warrior-poet Egil did lead a daring raid upon his dark bastion." "Methinks that is not the case, Innkeeper," replied Robert, his visage yet pale and drawn. Never would he forget the ghastly horror slinking through the dark of winternight, a terrible silhouette in the soft light of the full moon. "For I beheld the Horror with my own two eyes." "But it cannot be, for Egil and his men did pull down the walls of von Palmer's castle stone by stone ere setting alight all that would burn, choking the midnight air with acrid smoke. I recall it well, Robert." The oldster's eyes grew distant for a moment. "For I was there with brave Egil when it all transpired, a young warrior only a few years younger than he..." Tobe's words trailed off into silence. His rheumy eyes seemed to mist for a moment in sorrowful recollection. "I..." A horrifying howl broke through the night. "We best be inside," said Robert, hurriedly pushing Tobe inside, slamming the door closed and latching it tight. "What goes on?" called a voice, echoed by others huddled about the Inn's warm hearth. "That eerie call had the sound of evil in it," said Old Nan, the Innkeeper's sturdy wife. "Robert says he saw Darb haunting the night." Gasps and curses followed this statement. "And I for one believe him." Tobe limped to a stool against the main bar and gingerly took a seat, his stick-like frame shaking with barely restrained fear. "But how can that be?" asked someone else, an old grey bearded man setting with his back to the wall, a tankard of mead clutched in his gnarled grasp. "Von Palmer is dead--and his abominations, too..." But before any could answer, something heavy crashed into the front door of the Inn. They turn around quickly, to see something less than expected. A very small man in a tattered tunic. He immediately begins to speak aloud, saying, Quote: " 'And it shall come to pass that a mortal man shall see the very depths of hell, and he shall survive. Though he visits only by way of the calling of the Demon's Powder. The Angel of Darkness he shall be called, who will ride on the very back of the Black Dragon. The Demon of Light shall challenge him to a Wizard War, though the Angel of Darkness will be oblivious to the seperate world in which he will be called. The Demon of Light will try to take advantage over this, but will be defeated in time by the Black Fire of the Angel of Darkness.' " 'Thus, the Angel of Darkness shall gain control of all Hell and the souls which lie within. With this power, comes death. His soul will dwell in the Great Fire, which shall spread out its hands towards him and lift him up.' " 'The Demon of Light, Darb, defeated the previous thousands of years ago. He joined Hell not by mean's of the Demon's Powder, but through death itself. There, he was challenged. The War of the Wizards lasted for days before Darb gained vistory, becoming the Demon of Light.' " 'Before the time of the Angel of Darkness, no live mortal ever enetered the depths of Hell. This one shall be the Chosen One. He will not be the next of Demon of Light. His rule will not be one of Chaos, but he will rule as the Angel of Darkness, raising up the Age of Order in the dark depths of Hell. For an Empire ruled on Chaos as ruled by the Demon of Light cannot stand against the Heavens in the Great Battle which shall take place during the time of the Age of Order.' " 'The Angel of Darkness will think this all but a dream, but really, it is a seperate world, one apart from our own. He will soon discover that he is the Ruler of Hell. Soon after his victory, he will realize that it is not a dream...' " They all stand still for a moment, then the figure fades away into the darkness of the night. They stand in silence. �Did y'all understan wha that was about ?� Old Tobe asked of nobody in particular, his shotgun pointing off into the darkness. Met with nothing but mystified silence, the old man grumbled to himself, closed the heavy oaken door, and bolted it tight. After tottering back to his rocker, he sat down, laid the gun across his knees, and resumed rocking ... one hand reaching inside his vest for a packet of chaw, and both eyes firmly fixed on the door. �Can�t be too careful out heah, so deep inna wuids. There�s dangerous critters about, an soma da the people roun heah ah passin strange in their ways, an don take too kindly ta strangers ... specially since that nasty to do with that VanPalmah fella, or however ya spell iz name.� Old Tobe pulled a large wad of chaw out of a small leather pouch, tucked it inside one cheek, and began aimlessly chewing it as he put away his pouch. He paused long enough to let fly a brown stream at the spitoon near his rocker, before lapsing into watchful silence, punctuated by the occasional creak of his rocker. �So, what brings ya out this way, young man ?� asked Nan, wandering in from the back room, lantern in hand. �You ah writer, lookin fer old local legends ta raid fer stories ?� Robert took an immediate dislike to her - she struck him as a bit of a shrew. Probably the type who peddled in half-truths, and who spoke unkindly behind people's backs with little prodding. �Busted axle. I was rounding the bend a quarter mile back, and something leapt out of the shadows past the car. Mighta been a bear - it was dark, and I couldnt see anything except a large hulking shadow, and a pair of red eyes. Anyway, I swerved to avoid it, and ran over a fallen log on the side of the road.� Robert paused, unsure of how much to tell the strange oldsters about his mission. �It was an unnerving walk to get here, in the pitch darkness ... I think whatever it is may be following me. I could hear it shambling around in the woods behind me�. Old Tobe met his eyes for a long moment, as if trying to gauge the young man�s mettle. Suddenly, the stout oaken door shuddered from an incredible impact, and a stream of dust trickled down from the rafters. Robert cursed, having felt the power of the blow in his feet. Whatever was out there, it was horrifically strong. The old timer pointed his shotgun at the entrance. A large german shepard, who�d apparently been sleeping in the corner, charged up to the door, and began barking maniacally. A second blow landed, and a blackend fist burst through the 2 inch thick oak door in a hail of splinters. The arm pulled back, grabbed one side of the split, and wrenched the broken half of the door clear off the hinges. The other half of the door fell free, and landed in the room with a crash. A hulking figure stood in the shadows of the dark entranceway, and began to advance. Old Nan began shreiking wordlessly, and dropped her lantern. The lights went out, leaving only the flickering glow of the fireplace. The old Man seemed on the verge of a heart attack - but he managed to point his gun at the hulking figure, and pulled the trigger only to hear the dreadful sound of two dry hammers falling down�click-CLACK! �Gadzooks!� cried Tobe. �Whatever�s to be done? I�ve tried to shoot you with my gun but now I feel it�s no more fun and quick and quack it�s time to run!� The hulking figure stopped to look and stomped and yelled and jumped and shook for he had seen the stolen book upon the table kitchen nook. �MINE!� he roared. �Stoopid shorty! You thinks you can and so�s you plan to bring me book back home to Nan! You thinks the magic works for you, all mean and sad and angry too? You wants the song to heal your strife and give your wife a brand new life? Fooklegums! Duggledumplings! Don�t you know to make it sing that care and kindness must you bring?� Young Master Robert made no peep (a moment ago he�d been close to sleep) and now he listens beneath the covers while all around him great fear hovers. �I won�t let you!� Tobe spluttered. �It isn�t fair to have her gone while all around us life goes on! I might have lied because of pride but deep inside you know I tried!� �Janglejoobles!� spat Darb. �Bunkumbabbles!� He took two steps into the room and Tobe then felt quite close to doom when small Robert said in a quiet tone: �Oh please Mr. Darb, please leave him alone!� When he heard that voice, Darb stopped and Quote: Darb began: With teeth a gnashing I�ll gnaw off your tasty head and consume your soul Quote: Old Tobe countered: Shotgun held on high I say thee �Nay foul hellspawn !� and slip home two rounds Quote: Robert joined the fray: Ho, Demon of Light ! The prophesy favors me, as �Angel of Dark� Quote: Darb promptly attacked: With fists a flailing I wade in to deal thee death, and nearly slay thee. Quote: Robert ripostes: Sorely hurt, I cry �Get thee behind me, Angel !� And thus abjure thee. Quote: Darb stops short, and leers: Ye can talk the talk, But thou canst not walk the walk. Victory is mine. Quote: Prince bravely defends Old Tobe: Grrr Grrr Grrr Grrr Grrr ! Bark Bark Bark Bark Bark Bark Bark ! Bite Bite Bite Bite ... YIPE ! Darb slays the brave german shepherd with a mighty kick. Quote: Old Nan attacks from the rear: Angel of Dark, yea, But hell hath no fury like an Old Nan just scorned ! Quote: Darb backhands her: Old wives and their tales are nothing but small magic compared with my might ! Quote: Old Tobe fired back, as his wife collapsed: Hear now my two cents and the twin shells of my gun you foul djinn of light ! We laid you most low when VanPalmer sent you last and now yet again ! Quote: Darb staggered from the blast, but stood firm: Your twin jets of flame do roll off my armored hide. My fists deal thee death. Quote: Robert stood alone, staring grimly at the fallen couple, and the unstoppable Angel of Light: The moment doth come The prophecy stands ready As fate becomes past. And then, it happened that a great whilrwind took them down. Down. Into the dark depths of Hell. To the very place that Robert never wanted to see again. Darb does not laugh. This was not supposed to happen. If Robert defeats him again, his soul will be forever chained. Then again, Robert does not know this. Though he does know how to defeat him. How Robert had become so powerful Darb could not figure out. After the first white-flamed shaft, Robert pommels the invisible shield with his Black Fire. A sudden surge of energy rushes through his body. It hits him with tremendous strength and he stumbles back, but he does not fall, an invisible force holds him there. With his head tipped back and arms spread, another surge of power hits him even harder in the chest. Swirls of white, black, yellow, and red burst forth from his chest. The room fills with the giant starburst. Surprisingly, the light does not blind him, but fills his eyes entirely, turning them the same colors and swirling inside. A flame whips out of the fire, which reaches to the ceiling, and wraps around his body, pulling him into the fire. He is unaware that anything is happening. But he knows that his soul has left him, and it lingers somewhere else. Moments later he is suddenly dropped to the ground. He falls a long way, but feels nothing. His body lays lifeless. When he wakes, a feeling inside tells him he is dead. His skin is very pale and ice cold. His heart does not beat. His eyes do not hold their former color, not even the white, but they are fully black. He stands, but slowly, and notices that he is naked. Though his skin shows no sign of burns, his clothes must have been burnt off. A small fire burns now, with a black core which holds the shape of man. The black core is his soul. He walks around the large room before taking one of the pitch-black passages and nearly ran headlong into a band of teenage geeks on an AD&D module set in Hell. One of the players, apparently an avid filker, is leading the group in a sing along filk parody ... Quote: RING THEIR BELLS Words: Rik E Spoor Tune: "Jingle Bells" Slashing through the Orcs With a good two-handed blade Over corpses we go And through the gore we wade Mace on helmet rings Making bodies fly What fun to sing our Slaying Song And watch these suckers DIE! (chorus) Oh, ring their bells with swords and spells Don't let 'em get away! We're brave and bold for fame and gold We'll make a lot today! Oh, ring their bells with swords and spells Don't let 'em get away! We'll hack and slash and blast and trash And blow these dudes away! Crashing through the door Into the Dragon's nose Our mage whips out a Cone of Cold And out his fire goes! Elven bowstrings sing Making Balrogs fall And our thief finds a secret door Into the treasure hall! (chorus) Then appears the Lich With his demon guard Our wizard yawns and wishes We'd run into something hard. He begins to cast His 19th level spell The damn lich throws a Gate at us And drops us all in Hell! (chorus) We appear in Hell In front of Satan's throne Our Cleric waves us out the door And takes him on alone! Oh, ring their bells with Prayers and Spells Don't let 'em get away! We're brave and bold and CRAZED, we're told To think we'll live the day! Oh, ring their bells with swords and SHELLS Don't let 'em get away! We'll hack and slash and blast and trash And drag our loot away! Robert, already in a foul mood due to recent events, promptly tested out his newfound powers as the Lord of Hell ... by putting the annoying and rather noisy teens out of their misery with a well-placed blast of hellfire. Turning down a different side passage he finds a room full of black hooded robes. He quickly puts one on. He hopes it is fire resistant, then laughs at himself for thinking so. As he walks down yet another passage, he comes upon a small fire. He bends down and stares at it for a moment. Then, he waves his hand through it. He feels nothing. What do I do now? His mind recalls the prophecy: Quote: " 'And it shall come to pass that a mortal man shall see the very depths of hell, and he shall survive. Though he visits only by way of the calling of the Demon's Powder. The Angel of Darkness he shall be called, who will ride on the very back of the Black Dragon. The Demon of Light shall challenge him to a Wizard War, though the Angel of Darkness will be oblivious to the seperate world in which he will be called. The Demon of Light will try to take advantage over this, but will be defeated in time by the Black Fire of the Angel of Darkness.' " 'Thus, the Angel of Darkness shall gain control of all Hell and the souls which lie within. With this power, comes death. His soul will dwell in the Great Fire, which shall spread out its hands towards him and lift him up.' " 'The Demon of Light, Darb, defeated the previous thousands of years ago. He joined Hell not by mean's of the Demon's Powder, but through death itself. There, he was challenged. The War of the Wizards lasted for days before Darb gained vistory, becoming the Demon of Light.' " 'Before the time of the Angel of Darkness, no live mortal ever enetered the depths of Hell. This one shall be the Chosen One. He will not be the next of Demon of Light. His rule will not be one of Chaos, but he will rule as the Angel of Darkness, raising up the Age of Order in the dark depths of Hell. For an Empire ruled on Chaos as ruled by the Demon of Light cannot stand against the Heavens in the Great Battle which shall take place during the time of the Age of Order.' " 'The Angel of Darkness will think this all but a dream, but really, it is a seperate world, one apart from our own. He will soon discover that he is the Ruler of Hell. Soon after his victory, he will realize that it is not a dream...' " "Great Battle...with the Heavens..." He sits on the hot stone and iron floor, wondering what he should do. Then slowly, with that mysterious, steely concentration that comes to so many rabbits when they are involved in life-threatening situations, Robert walked across the hutch floor to examine the latch more closely. The heat cast by the burning orange man-light which the man had left next to his prison was stifling. His small heart was beating rapidly within his chest � he knew if he did not keep himself under control that going tharn was inevitable, and then he was as good as dead. He tried to guess the time � it was certainly well past evening silflay, probably close to ni-Frith, but he couldn�t be sure without a look at the sky. He sat on his haunches close to the strangely-shaped piece of silvery stuff, and tried to think back to the stories Hazel-rah and Mr. Bigwig had told him when he was a child about hutches and how to open them. �...the thing you have to remember about people,� he recalled Mr. Bigwig saying once in his gruff but amiable voice, �is that most of �em are pretty darn lazy. They�re always building strange machines and tools that can do their work for 'em so they don�t have to do it themselves. And somethin� like a hutch, well�� - here he had paused to scratch behind one battle-scarred ear, then continued � ��when a man builds a hutch, he usually doesn�t want to go through a big fuss to get it open when he needs to. Most of those hutch latches are pretty simple things, even for a rabbit. With some of them you have to push a sticky thing down �those are the tricky ones. But most of the ones I�ve seen are just this little light thing that looks like a crooked silver worm with the crooked end in a little round hole. If you can just get a paw under it and push up, why � it goes up and out of the hole no problem. Then you just give that door a good butt with your shoulder and you�re free.� Robert sat up a little straighter � it was as if the memory of Mr. Bigwig�s voice had given him new strength and courage. The silver thing he could see certainly looked like a little worm with a crooked end. Tentatively he extended one paw - it was very tight, but he managed to squeeze it through one of the spaces in the hutch wire. Now, if he could just manage to push the silver worm up... His blood froze as he heard the heavy crunch of man-footsteps on the gravel outside the shed. He knew he wouldn't get another chance at this. Quickly he looked up at the clock, and saw that she only had 7 minutes to go until the next commercial break. The camera, and the culinary students in the auditorium, all stared at her impassively, waiting for her to continue. The fact that the current episode of her show was being hosted in the main lecture center of the French Culinary Institute, rather than at her usual soundstage, was a bit unsettling. �Once your mis en place is complete, your next step is to begin the saute before moving on to the braising stage. This is how you lay the foundation for flavor in the dish. We begin by heating a mixture of clarified butter and olive oil in our cast iron dutch oven over medium high heat ...� Chef Danielle grimaced inwardly as she heard, through her earpiece, that the director wanted her to turn a little more to her side, and to stoop slightly, in order to better display her cleavage to the camera. She was angry enough as it was over the fact that the director refused to begin filming until after she�d gone back to her dressing room and removed her bra. She really HATED all that T&A stuff, and wanted to focus on her cooking instead. Naturally, she ignored the request and continued, without missing a beat. �First, dredge the skinless rabbit pieces in seasoned flour, and saute then until golden brown, being careful not to let the fond in the pan burn. Then, remove the browned rabbit parts to a plate, reduce the heat to medium, add a fresh drizzle of oil, followed by your mirepoix.� She grinned inwardly and continued cooking as the director cursed luridly at her through her earpiece. He was a total control freak, as well as a chauvanist pig, and he was rapidly reaching the limits of her patience. �Once the mirepoix is softened, deglaze the pan with a mixture of dry white wine ... it�s this fond that will impart the rich undertone to the dish, and it also doubles as a touch of roux, which adds body and mouthfeel to the sauce. Next, add your reserved rabbit pieces, your rabbit and/or chicken broth, and your sachet of herbs de provence. Make sure the liquid level is just high enough to cover the rabbit, but also that it comes no higher than half-way up the wall of the dutch oven. She continued working as she spoke, while inwardly delighting at her director�s fury. She�s already spoken to her cousin, the Executive Producer, a few days prior and he�d smugly assured her that they were already interviewing replacements for him. She was on firm ground, with carte blanche, and her self confident defiance was adding to the director�s fury. �Next, put the dutch oven into a 350F oven for 30 minutes. When the 30 minutes are up, you�ll add your finishing vegetables for the final 45 minutes, and then we�ll finish the stew with organic butter, and dijon mustard. We�re going to take a quick commercial break, but we�ll be right back. You�re cooking with Chef Danielle, and this is �The IBDoF Bistro.� The camera light had only JUST gone out when she angrily doffed her chef toque and began screaming into her lapel microphone at the director. �You Goddam chauvanistic PIG, you wanna see more CLEAVAGE for the camera ?! Well how does THIS suit ya ?!!� She promptly tore open her blouse, exposing her glorious rack of danielle for all the see ... including the stunned students in audience. The camera man�s mouth hung open, and the lollypop he was nursing dropped to the floor and shattered. �You�re FIRED you disgusting, bloated, sexist PIG. Get offa my set !!� The female culinary students in the audience broke into spontaneous cheers, and the male students soon joined them ... albeit cheering more for the view, rather than the Director�s hasty departure. Off in one corner, a lone student was silently congratulating himself for having brough a mini-cam to tape the lecture ... he was gonna make a mint selling the footage to celebrity watchers on the internet. Meanwhile Robert jerked in startlement. What the hell just happened? He sat in a dark alley, breathing heavily, his vision swimming in the shadows. How did I get here? He looked around. Panic pulsed throughout his being. The last thing he remembered was being in the bar...and the Old Man with that weird nojshe stuff. What'd he do to me? A groan escaped Robert's lips as he tried to stand. Reality swirled about him, nausea welling up in kind. Sweat broke out on his forehead. He began to shiver, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Feeling worse than he could ever remember feeling, Robert leaned back against the wall and slid into a setting position. That's better. If I just set here a bit, I'll feel better soon. Yet the aweful feeling wracking his body would not desist. It was like the worst hangover in the world multiplied by ten. His head began throbbing intensely at this thought. It felt like someone had driven a massive spike through his skull and was even now twisting it about with cruel glee. Please let it stop. His stomach began to churn. Desperate, Robert leaned to his right and spewed the scant contents of his stomach onto the filthy pavement of the alley. When he was finished, his throat was sore and burning--and he dry-heaved for a few minutes longer just for good measure. After that, he leaned to his left, his body wracked by spasmodic shivering, and lay in a fetal position upon the cold, sweating pavement. If I just rest a while, I'll be all right... The thought repeated itself within his mind, as if the very repetition of it would make him well. And then he heard the slow approach of footsteps outside his office, definitely high heels. A shadow came into view in the frosted glass of the door and then came a measured knock of three. Robert brought his legs down off the desk with a thump and yanked open the top drawer, fumbling amidst old mud spa coupons, empty cigarette packs, used condoms and Dick Tracy comics until he came up with a battered tape recorder. He quickly hit the red button. �It was raining the day I first heard that knock on my door �� he began, then stopped as a bout of coughing overtook him. �- sh*t!� After a few moments, he tried again. �- it was a hard rain, the kind of rain that -� The shadow in the window shifted a little and there was a slighty louder knock. �Yeah, one sec!� he called gruffly. Then, into the recorder: � � washes slime off the streets but leaves you feeling like an empty shot glass inside.� Robert grinned a little � he still had the touch. �Hello?� came a voice from outside. �Is someone there?� Straightening his fedora and blowing dust from the phone, he called: �Come on in.� The door clicked open and one incredibly long and shapely leg came into view, followed by a second. With an effort, Robert tore his gaze from them and raised his eyes until they came to rest on the face of a stunning young woman elegantly dressed in black and carring a manila envelope. At first glance she seemed waifish, but his seasoned grey eyes caught a distinct Machiavellian glint in each of her large blue ones. �Good afternoon,� she said. Her voice was strong and slightly husky. �And to you,� Robert answered. Quickly he leaned from her view behind his desk and hit the record button again. �I knew she spelled trouble the moment I first laid eyes on those long killer legs and heartbreaker lips �� �Who are you talking to?� the woman asked. �What?� he said, straightening up. �Oh � nobody. Sinuses.� Folding his hands deliberately, he asked, �What can I do for you, sweetie?� �My name is Jess Jarlington,� she said. �I have a problem - your name was recommended when I asked who could help me with it. Can you fix problems?� �Depends on the problem,� Robert said. �Say, what�s that behind you?� She turned. �Jess Jarlington,� he continued into the tape, �I didn�t know the name. Then again, there were a lot of names I didn�t �" She turned back and studied him carefully. "Are you all right?" "Fine, fine." he said gruffly. "Why don't you tell me your problem." Her face grew careworn. "It's my husband Donald. He...he..." her words drift off. "What is it Mrs. Jarlington? What is it?" "Well...he..." she pauses. "He tried to kill me," she blurts out. "Tried to kill you..." He thinks for a moment. "You must be distraught!" "Yes. I don't know why. Everything has been fine, but suddenly, he just...changed..." "How suspicious..." he says. He fingers his chin. "Well...do you want immediate results?" "Why yes! My husband tried to kill me! Donald tried to kill me!" Robert gets a strange look in his eyes before he jumps up from his desk and takes the woman in his arms. "Well, you won't need him anymore." He leans her back and kisses her. She tries to push him away, but stops. How could she push that away? Although, he was nearly crushing her teeth with the pressure of his lips against hers. In an instant he brought her back up and stared into her eyes. "Jess Jarlington...you are mine now. You won't ever have to worry about that old Donald again." "Just hurry and clear off the desk, Robert." Robert darts towards the desk that seemed so real in his mind. Little did he recall that he was sprawled amidst the filth and grime of the alley. Yet these words were upon his lips as he lay there: Lascivious beauty on the desk top, Luscious lips swell'd with passion's flame, Firing the forge of lust--I cannot stop. Our bodies entwine, you call out my name, Driving the fury of Cupid's tempest. Long moments pass, our emotions swelling. Up and up we go, seeking the hill's crest Yet it seems distant, forlorn, and telling. Our bodies grow weary with the ascent, Though Cupid's potion drives us onward Past the boundaries of Earthly intent, Urging us on and forever upward. Our journey ends, joy upon our faces; We sigh in bliss, bound by Cupid's traces. With the last line uttered, a smile crossed Robert's face, and then the audience members were surging to their feet, applauding, cheering; shrill whistles accompanied by passionate cries of �Yes!� and �Bravo!� The ovation rapidly swelled to a thunderous crescendo and was held with no sign of diminishing � all faces rapturous, all eyes shining as he stepped from behind the podium and bowed humbly before the massive throng... �Robert! ROOOOOOOBERT!" called Priscilla. "Honey-woney? What are you doing in there, poopcake? Have you finished the second coat? I need you out here right now - Cupid�s left her traces all over the carpet again, dear!� Robert blinked and the paint roller he held came back into focus. He studied it listlessly for a moment and then shifted his gaze to the only half-completed wall. Gaudy pink drops fell to the newspaper-covered floor with small ploink! sounds. There was a brisk and inexorable rap on the bedroom door. �Robert? Why is the door closed, baby? Have to be CAREFUL of those fumes � you KNOW you have sensitive lungs, poochie! Quickly, dear � before the STAIN sets!� Her footsteps receded down the hall without waiting for an answer. He placed the roller on the tray, wiped his hands on a rag, left the room and made his way downstairs. From the kitchen came the vigorous sound of chopping vegetables and Priscilla singing Whitney Houston songs in a high keening tone. Where was the stain cleaner? He checked the shelves in the front closet but it wasn't there. "EYE....YIII....EYE....EEEEEEEEEEYE....WILL....ALWAYS....LOVE....YOOOOOOAAHHH! WILL...ALLLLWAYS....LOVE YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Robert winced slightly. It wasn't in the bucket with the dust cloths, either. Had to be in the cellar. He opened the door to the stairs, and... ...paused long enough to remove his Walther PPK from its shoulder holster in a smooth motion - brushing a speck of dust from his tuxedo lapel and consulting the gold face of his Rolex with the other hand. Only twenty minutes before the bomb was set to blow. He descended the steps carefully, focused - all his senses tuned to maximum efficiency. Perhaps if he took care of this quickly there would still be time for a visit with Molly Moans-A-Lot before flying back to London for his debriefing. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he he tripped and fell flat on his face back in the alley again. When is this stuff going to wear off. Then there were three bursts of multicolored light and Robert lifted his head out of his own vomit, looked up as saw three figures in skirts walking over towards him. His head was still splitting and his vision slightly foggy. No, they weren�t wearing skirts they were wearing kilts, kilts with a red and black Scottish pattern, broad leather utility belts with side arms and they were naked from the waste up. Though one of the three was definitely feminine, the three were not human, more like a cross between humans and cats, lions more precisely. And not quite naked thought Robert, they were covered with fine fur. �Check out the human Sulka�, said the big male with the long red-brown mane. �Aye-aye Captain� said the lioness, a well-formed feline with very short light-colored hair and nouns high and firm. She pulled an instrument with red and green blinking lights from her belt, and pressed it to Robert�s neck. In an instant, Robert�s pain, nausea and hangover were gone. She grabbed his chin and pulled it towards her. �What did the creature look like who gave you the �Noshje� and where did it go?� �He went that way�, Robert pointed down the alley �he was about my height � old man � white beard � and he was wearing a brown hat and coat.� �It was Suin-Olef alright� The Captain pulled out his side arm, and to Robert, it looked like a blaster from that Star Wars movie, �We�ll get him. Sulka, take the human up to the ship.� �You�ll never catch Suin, he would�ve shape changed by now.� It happened so fast, Robert thought he had blinked, but he knew he hadn�t. The Captain had taken three strides in a second; kicked out, contacted the side of Sulka face and knocked her into the wall. With her back to the wall, loathing in her eyes, blood running down from her lip, and her weapon still in her holster Sulka looked up at the Captain. His blaster pointed directly at Sulka�s head and three-inch talons extended out from the Captains other hand. �The bastard double crossed me and stole my cargo. You keep your opinions to yourself, Doc, I don�t trust you and I still think you helped him. But you�ve got no place to run. They�ll lock you up in a cage on this planet, and that�s if you�ll lucky.� With a shove to his companion the Captain swiftly and silently ran down the dark alley. As Robert watch the two of them disappear he felt a furred hand seize his wrist and claws dig into his skin. �Ouch!� Robert turned to look at his capturer, but his eyes never rose above her shoulders. Just as it was getting interesting and Robert was trying to remember if he had seen a tail, Sulka stood up yanking Robert to his feet with her. Sulka�s place her hand on a gem on her collar, tilted her head slightly to the left and spoke �Doctor Sulka, two for transport.� �Whe� whe�Where are you taking me?� �To the IDF Palmer �� a very bright multi colored light flashed and bloomed in his peripheral vision; he turned his head to examine the hues in more detail but the light quickly effervesced � its central mass splitting apart into dozens of smaller pseudopods which rocketed away like fleeing tadpoles and then silently imploded. A thunderous bass-kick exploded from the amps, bringing lusty cheers from the dancers. Robert pulled his vision back and scanned the wide-eyed throng. Teeth flashed white in blacklight, throats beneath them swallowed. Up in the booth Larry leaned gracefully over the console, sharp Thai features glowing red in the light of the LEDs. A new drum line sidled against the first in low register and then rose, inexorable, flooding over in a delicious swell. The crowd roared its approval; fresh snarls and smiles split countless faces. He spotted Sulka moving toward him through the sea of flailing limbs, face flushed. She almost ran into his arms. "I was hoping you'd come!" she said in his ear, breath tickling. She held the embrace, gave a final squeeze before letting go. Her eyes were bright. "Did you -?" Robert grinned. "Just started coming on. Have -?" "Half an hour ago," she said, shifting from one foot to the other. "You're here for a while, right?" "You kidding?" She clapped her hands, bounced in place. Robert allowed his head to tilt back and took in the clear August sky. Millions of stars blinked sagely down upon the beach while the moon loomed full and ripe. Wet sand squelched pleasingly between his bare toes. He inhaled deeply, reverently, then awoke, and realized that he was in some sort of medical center. An oxygen mask was on his face, an IV was stuck in his left arm, and a console full of odd looking electronic equipment stood winking and blinking and beeping at him. He turned his head the other war, and his round eyes met with the slitted ones of Doctor Sulka. �Ah, you�re awake I see. Excellent.� she purred. �The intervals seem to be getting shorter now, thanks to the intravenous counter agent. Our next step is to get that crystal of nojshe out.� �Crystal ?� replied Robert, groggily ... unsure if he was still the �Robert� of his visions or �Elliot� the bartender. �How did a crystal get in my body ?� The question, and whatever was in the IV, seemed to be helping him focus his mind. Occasionally glancing at the doctor�s high round nouns seemed to be helping too. �Have you had any surgical procedures recently ?� the doctor asked patiently. �Um ... yeah.� Elliot shifted his gaze, with effort. �I, uh ... I had a radioactive pellet inserted into my prostate a week ago ... early stage prostate cancer.�. The medical realities of his condition suddenly dampened his mood. �Ah, that explains it.� she nodded. �A week ... he probably misjudged the amount of time delayed coating he used to encase the crystal. Suin-Olef has the ability to shape shift his appearance, so he probably posed as your doctor and used your scheduled surgery to insert the crystal of Nojshe into your prostate.� Her feline face hardened, obviously distraught by the twisted medical ethics involved. �You mean old man Jeff, my prostate surgeon, and this �Sewynn-Olaff� you�re referring to ... they�re are all the same person, and an alien criminal ?� Elliot asked in a rush. Her exasperated nod confirmed his worst fears. �But ... but ... why ? Why do all this ? Why the surgery, and then the dust at the bar ?� He began to panic at the idea of an alien criminal having implanted something in that most intimate part of his body. �Nojshe is a highly illegal, biochemically engineered, synthetic hormone/narcotic hybrid. It�s used to hyper-stimulate certain portions of the brains of certain species in order to create powerful and constantly changing hallucinations ... and over time, the victim�s brain begins to produce a rare, highly prized, and as-yet impossible to synthesize, neuro-compound byproduct, which is then refined into a hyper-powerful pleasure-inducing drug and sold on the intergalactic black market for prices that would boggle your hominid mind. Nasty stuff.� �Now, let�s see about getting that crystal out of you ...� She began pulling back the sheets covering the lower half of his body. �H-H-Hold it ... STOP !� stammered Elliot, thinking fast. Dr. Sulka paused. �Are you cops ?� �Actually, we�re criminals too - although I wasn�t aware of it at the time I was hired to serve aboard this crew. The nojshe apparently belongs to our Captain, and Suin-Olef was his partner ... but Suin apparently betrayed him, and is attempting to strike out on his own. I hate all this, and I want out.� She snarled, her whiskers quivering with anger. Elliot pondered. �Curing me won�t solve your problem then. This �Sewynn� guy needs to harvest the compounds I�ve produced, right ? So why don�t we set a trap for him ?� �That�s a clever idea. However, there�s one big problem ... the nojshe crystal, and the resulting compounds, will eventually kill you if I don�t remove them.� She threw a switch on the device holding his I.V., drew off the sheets, leaned over, focused a very bright light containing a magnifying window over his privates, and began waving a small beeping scanner over him. Elliot�s hackles rose, and he struggled to contain his fear and embarrassment. �This shouldn�t hurt - well, not too much anyway ...� she chided, as he began slipping under the anesthetic. The last thing he heard, was �my my my ... looks like you have almost a full load ready for harvesting.� Elliot couldn�t help by chuckle at the doctor�s serendipitous double entendre. And then the darkness claimed him. Meanwhile he sat on a black iron throne. Black flames lashed out from underneath it. In his hand, he loosely held a black scepter. Before him were myriads of people, all clothed in black. They were all bowing before him. The Great Angel of Darkness, Master of the Black Flames. He stared out amoung them. The room started to spin, everything became blurry, and then familiar images flashed in his mind, though he couldn't quite make out what they were. He was leaning across a bar - in a bar. An old man stood across from him, holding a white powder. He wanted to say the man's name was Jeff or something like Swin or something, but he couldn't figure it out. Still in the bar, something outside exploded and everything went dark. Then he was being chased by - something. A man. The visions were blurry and vague, it was hard to make anything out. Then he was fighting Darb - that he remembered clearly. The Wizard War. That vision quickly faded into another. He was in a dark office, with a tape recorder, speaking into it. A woman walked in and started talking, but he couldn't make out her words - or his. Then he was in an alley. A dark alley. He could feel the nausea in his stomach. Then he was in a house painting. A lovely woman was in the kitchen singing. He was looking for something, though he wasn't sure what it was he was looking for. He walked down a dark narrow flight of stairs, and then he was in the alley again. Three cat-like figures in skirts stood before him. Something happened, but the visions became even more blurry and he could not see. Then, he lay on a table under a lamp. His privates were exposed and one of the cat-like figures hung over it with the lamp. Then the visions left and he was back to the throne. The visions had been so familiar, but he didn't know why. He had been in them all. He couldn't figure what was wrong with him. He stared out at the demons before him, but somehow felt that none had many helpful or constructive thoughts to offer. Demons, he reflected, rarely do. Superb at instilling great fear, even horror among the living; formidable when marched onto the field of spiritual battle; masters of snarls, screams, bloodthirsty war cries, of stripping flesh from bone and dreaming up endless varieties of mutilation � but their skills in the area of emotional counselling were less than stellar. Just another indignity of my position, Robert thought with more than a little bitterness. What he wouldn�t give for a few seraphs of light and wisdom down here. Let�s see how Iehovah liked it if He voiced an emotional problem and all He got were grunts, halitosis, and acid spittle in His face. He often thought how good it would be if he were able to give his Dark Legions a change of scene � or even just a change of wardrobe. All that endless black didn�t really allow one much latitude to accessorize. Why couldn�t they be the �Dusk Legions� for an eon or two? Not too radical, still PC � just a new little flourish to liven things up in the ranks! Was there a crime in that? Did traditon have to be grasped so tightly that knuckles turned white? Or in this case, black? He also had to admit his own moniker just didn�t pack the same punch for him as it had initially. �Great Angel of Darkess, Master Of Black Flames� � so rigid, so bourgeoise, so 17th century. He hated the sound of it when he presented himself to new Legion members during intakes or to shareholders at the big Hades Executive Board meetings. Once or twice he�d even caught eyes rolling � and that had really messed with his already-fragile self-esteem. He did have some knowledge of psychology which he�d gleaned from various human souls � he suspected he was suffering some form of Post-Underworld-Stress-Disorder, or perhaps Multiple-Spiritual-Entity-Syndrome. Whatever the case, it was clear he needed some assistance fast. After many Hellfire evenings of pacing back and forth upon molten rock outcroppings and gazing listlessly about his become-boring Fiery Citadel, he seized upon an idea. He decided to seek a little psychoanalysis. �Ahh, I know just the person !� A quick snap of his taloned fingers left him just inside the gates of Dis. Picking his way carefully between bubbling pools of foul smelling sewage, and hopping from upturned face to upturned face, he rapidly made his way to a dry patch near Dr. Sigmund Freud, who, like the other tormented souls imprisoned nearby, was anchored up to his nose in a pool of goo. �Greetings Doctor !� He began cheerily, his own troubles made lighter by the proximity of eternal spiritual suffering. The foul reek of lies, half truths, disinformation, drivel, and doggerel was like a refreshing morning breeze to his demonic senses. He inhaled deeply, luxuriating in the fetid vapors. Meanwhile, back on Earth, Suin Olef was famished, and had just entered his favorite Japanese restaurant for a bite of dinner. �Konbonwa, Suin-san !� several waitresses chimed in unison, bowing respectfully. Suin bowed fractionally while continuing towards the sushi bar. The night chef bowed in recognition, without pausing in his work. He seated himself, and sighed. The restaurant had become something of a haven for him in recent days, because he found that not only did he despise hominid body odors, he also despised most human cuisine - and fresh raw seafood was a welcome respite from the tinned c-rations he�d stolen from the IDF Palmer. Granted that the seafood of Earth differed markedly from the varieties back home, on Bastet-IV, but his medical tricorder had already pronounced them fit for felinoid consumption. Very VERY fit in fact, as his growing waistline bore testimony to. A waitress appeared promptly at his side, pad in hand, and waited patiently for his beverage order. �Kurimu, dozo�. The waitress bowed, disappeared into the kitchen, and returned with a large glass of light cream. He sighed, and fought off the urge to lap. His holographic disguise generator had it�s limits, and one of them was that it just wasn�t programmed to offer a visual translation of a 7� tongue lapping cream out a tall slender collins glass. Reluctantly, he slipped a straw into the glass, and sipped deeply of the concentrated bovine lactate before pondering his order. �Konbonwa, Murasa-san� The chef bowed in reply. [/i] �Sashimi dozo - hamachi, suzuki, sake, maguro chutoro. Ima.� [/i] The chef bowed again, and promptly began preparing the order ... neatly slicing off pieces of yellow tail, sea bass, salmon, and fatty tuna belly. Suin especially loved the latter, because of both it�s richness and flavor resembalance to a highly prized species back home. He purred briefly with anticipation, before finally remembering that he was overdue to check up on his quarry. Flipping open his locator, he scanned for Elliot, and cursed when he couldn�t locate him. Probably another damn sunspot was ionizing the upper atmosphere. These things happened much less frequently back home, because Bastet-IV had a satellite parked at it�s L1 Lagrange point that created a protective shadow in the solar wind. �Say, what is that ?� inquired another customer, who sat down nearby, with his girlfriend. Suin scowled. �It�s a pocket GPS ... I�m still learning how to use the dratted thing.� he replied, before pocketing it. In actuality, he�d merely attached it to the utility belt of his kilt, but the holographic generator translated it as his having slipped it into the pocket of a pair of dress slacks. The new customer suddenly began sneezing. �Aww damn, there must be a cat nearby ... ACHOOOO!!.� Suin sighed. �My apologies. I�m a veterinarian, and I�m probably covered with dander. I can move to the other end of the bar.� The customer beamed an apologetic look of gratitude through red-rimmed eyes. Suin moved and re-settled himself. A small group of young girls filed in, giggling and chattering amongst themselves, and like a flock of small birds they settled in at a table immediately behind him, and then resumed their chatter. He studiously ignored the distraction. Briefly checking his chronometer, he saw that he had about 11 Terran hours until Elliot would be ready for harvesting. He was idly pondering how to dispose of the body when the waitress arrived with his sashimi. Grabbing his chopsticks, which he�d only recently learned how to use, he promptly dug in, and ordered more, and more still - his felinoid metabolism enabling him to put away prodigious amounts by paltry human standards. The fact that he only needed to eat once per day was a blessing, because it limited the amount of time he had to spend outside of his safe house. Mura-san ... chutoro, dozo.� He held up all 10 fingers, and the chef nodded with equal parts amazement and satisfaction ... amazement at Suin�s inhuman degustatory ability, and satisfaction at what would doubtlessly be a tab in excess of $300 US. At last, stomach distended, and sleepy from his herculean meal, he asked for his check, paid in cash, and departed. Meanwhile a young girl walks through the streets. "He must be somewhere..." she whispers to herself. "I must have the nojshe!" She wears ragged blue jeans and a tight shirt which has been ripped, exposing the top of her large breasts and her stomach. Her hair has grown to an enormous length and it flows softly in the cool breeze. Her fierce glaring eyes stare up at the sun which shines brightly over the city. She feels a tickle in her nose, and then sneezes. "Have you got the nojshe?" She approaches a middle-aged man. "No." "What?!" He becomes angry. "I want that nojshe! What is taking you so long?!" "I'm sorry, Arkan, I'm trying. You know I am." "It's just taking you so long. You should have had it by now." "I can't catch sight of him. I think he may have some sort of drug or a device that enables him to change shape or form. Maybe even change from human to animal or something." "I think you're right, Sahryn. We need to get him though." "Yeah, cos I need the moeny you're giving me for doing this for you." Arkan looks at the girl. "I'll give you money for other things, Sahryn." A disgusted expression shows on her face. "Never. Not with you." She looks him up and down once more before sighing and looking away. "Fine. Be gone!" He gestures with his arms for her to go. She has turned around to walk off, but at his words turns back and Rapidly melts into a pool of silver liquid on the ground. Arkan stares at the small puddle in disbelief. �What? What�s the matter?� queries the puddle �but� you can�t� I didn�t even� All sound ceased to exist. Everything around him had slowly melted into this quicksilver. Far off in the distance a light pulsated, sending rolling flames of light across what was once trees, and grass and people. �Are you still there?� Yelled Arkan, but nothing was heard. There was none left to hear his words nor any mater for them to travel through. Looking down at his hands he observed himself as a pool of sliver liquid quickly evaporating. He was no long he. He would loose conciseness soon, it was inevitable, and how could a pool of liquid maintain such for any length of time? Sadly this assumption was incorrect. He was now each molecule of vapor that had evaporated; an expanding cloud slowly being drawn to the white hot light that pulsated indefinitely. It burned with fury, it would consume him, make him part of it. He floated closer towards the light and it seemed to reverberate, resonating his entire new self. He could feel himself diminishing, becoming part of this light and no longer part of him. Now inevitability rings again in the essence of his being, and at the last glimpse of his destruction he squeezed his eyes shut, waiting. After a moment of silence, he peeked around. He was alive. He looked around, everything seemed to be normal. He looked down at his body, he was fine. Was it his imagination? "Sahryn?" "Yeah?" she asks, pulling herself off the ground and rubbing her back at the same time. "You okay?" "I guess. What was that?" "I don't know." Suddenly, the earth began to shake violently. Screams were heard throughout the city. Then, tall buildings began to fall. Arkan hurriedly grabbed Sahryn and began to run with her. His run was stopped abruptly by the appearance of a black robed figure. The figure held an enormous sword. Arkan turned to run away, but was quickly stopped by a slash in the back. He let out a yell in pain and fell to the ground. Sahryn stood immediately, watching the figure. "Sahryn." It said. She continued to stare. "Sahryn..." The figure removed the hood and let her see his face. It was Robert. "Robert?" she asks. "Sahryn, it's me. Hurry, come with me, we haven't much time." She looks down at Arkan's body and quickly follows her long lost lover. Robert takes her hand and quickly leads her to an opening in thr ground, from which spits forth fire. "Jump in, Sahryn. You have to." "I can't Robert. I can't." "I have sheilded you, you'll be safe. Go ahead, hurry." She looks at Robert, then at the pit. She Never enjoyed doing this. It would be the last time. No more, she just had to finish this. "Leave Robert, I can't hold this off forever!" Shivers traveled down her spine as Robert turned and started to run. It was necessary. Quickly she undid her coat and pulled out the glimmering dagger. It was necessary, she must be quick and accurate. The dagger screamed through the air with deadly precision. It whistled and gleamed in the low sunlight. Robert sensed something was wrong and quickly turned around. There was no time for a surprised look, a gasp, no look of despair, no hand coming up to block the deadly blade dripping in poison. It hit the middle of his throat with a dull thunk, and he simply fell backward as though the dagger were heavy enough to take him off his feet. She walked towards him, tears streaming from her eyes. She lifted her foot over the hilt and squeezed her eyes shut as she stomped down hard. Her stomach now tensed at what she had to do next. She opened her eyes and knelt down beside Richard's cold body. It was for the best anyway, her task would not be complete without this. She kissed his mouth sweetly and quickly withdrew the dagger. She raised the dagger above his chest and quickly jabbed it downward, jerking quickly. Her task was complete. She with withdrew the dagger and quickly put his war heart in a leather pouch. She could hear flames crackling behind her "It's you. I knew you would come when I was done." A dark voice boomed in reply, the earth shook with furry at his response "... |