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Shadowdancer

By Dracon

[Notice: The characters and events within are inspired by the "Gargoyles" TV Series and as such credit goes to the creators of said series. If any characters appear in the story from said series, those characters belong to their creators.

Should anyone wish to use the characters or events within in their own works, permission is hereby granted to do so. I just ask that you let me know if you are going to do so and provide credit in your work.

Underage viewers should not read this series, and all readers do so at their own risk.]

"Consequences"

----Chapter I----

Givens Castle

10244 S. Longwood Dr, Chicago, Illinois

November 24th, 2027

4:31 P.M.

Branson looked at the rest of his Clanmates, who appeared rather worried, then raised his hand, rapping it sharply against a door, unmarked save for the nail driven into it just above eye level. A deep, rumbling, and somewhat distracted sounded voice rolled out from behind it, telling him, "Not interested! GO AWAY."

He sighed, hanging his head, and called back through the door. "C'mon, Jamie. You've got us all worried, hun. I know you're pretty mad about what happened last night, but we just want to make sure you're okay."

She growled, the sound only slightly muffled by the wooden door, and said, "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I just want to be by myself for a while. So beat it!"

Trent raised his voice, adding, "Bran said you got hit by some sort of dart last night, yeah? Elayne and I want to see if we can figure out what was in it. We need a blood sample."

Elayne piped up, elaborating, "I think I can jig up some testing stuff down stairs, maybe cross your blood and Branson's, see if we can't find something in common."

Jamie positively shouted, sounding very irate. "Go play doctor with Branson if you want. Only way you're getting that sample from me is by force. I'll say it one last time, GO THE HELL AWAY."

Branson motioned them into a huddle, speaking quietly. "Okay, on the count of three, we're gonna bust in there. Trent and me will try to pin her down. Elayne, get that sample. Wing if you can, arm if you can't. Ready?"

The sound of a throat clearing interrupted them, and they turned to see a shimmering mass of color fade into existence behind them. Kee advised, "I would recommend you not do this thing. Lady Jamie is... most distraught right now. She would not even allow me to speak with her."

"Oh yeah," asked Branson, "What happened?"

Shaking his head, Kee told them, "I materialized last night and attempted to console her, but she told me, and I quote, "If you do not vacate the premises immediately, I will place a Banishing on you with such speed, your head will spin."

"I heard that," Jamie shouted, "And, if you're going to quote me, do it right. That wasn't even close, man. I said, "If you don't get out of my face this instant, I'm going to hit you with a Banishing so fast, your balls'll be at Alpha Centauri before you hit the Astral."

Kee nodded, raising an eyebrow, and commented, "I believe that was the turn of phrase, yes. I attempted to inform her that this was a physical impossibility, as I have no discernable anatomy, but she would hear naught of it."

Jamie chuckled a little, just barely audible through the door, and commented, "Damn straight."

Despite himself, Branson had to snicker at the two of them. Even if there was still that door in the way, at least they'd gotten Jamie talking, even engaging in a bit of banter. He'd been quite concerned the night before. First, when she landed, she'd dashed down into the house and hadn't come back out, and again when dawn came. She had not come to the roof, as far as he could tell, and that was usually a sign of emotional trauma in a Gargoyle.

He raised his voice again and said, "Look, we need to check your blood. We can do this the easy way or the hard way, your choice, but it's gonna happen. It's up to you, hun."

With a sigh, she said, "Fine, fine, whatever. Branson, can you do it? I'd prefer if you'd come in alone. I, uh, guess I've got something you should look at."

Motioning for the hypo, he took it from Elayne and slid into Jamie's room, opening the door only as wide as was required. He groaned as he felt something crunch under his foot, glancing down to see stony rubble all over the floor. "Shards and shells! This is disgusting."

She shrugged, sitting back at her desk, and commented softly, "I guess I haven't really been too worried about housekeeping. Sorry."

Picking his way carefully over to her, he asked her to extend her wing. She did so, and he carefully drew about ten milliliters from a vein close to the surface of the thin membrane, swabbing at the hole with a piece of paper toweling as he drew it out. He glanced up at her, commenting, "I apologize if this hurts any, it isn't something we do on a regular basis."

She nodded after he pulled the needle clear, commenting, "It's alright. You've got a light touch. I just hope you can find whatever it is you're looking for."

He exhaled heavily and said, "Me, too. Whatever you got hit with, I've got, as well. Though, it's probably nothing. If they tried to dose us up with Ebola or some such, our bodies have probably cleaned it out by now."

Heading back for the door, he pushed it slightly ajar and handed the filled needle to Elayne, who took it carefully. Footsteps echoed down the hall as she and Trent headed for the basement.

Branson pulled a folding chair out of a recessed cubby, snapping it open as he walked over to Jamie's desk again. "So. I'm not going to ask if you've got something on your mind, that's pretty obvious. What's wrong, and what can I do about it?"

Not trusting her voice, Jamie gestured at her displays, where Branson could see an article from the Tribune's website.

"SUSPICIOUS DEATH AT LOCAL RALLY

The death of local electrician, Luisa Mendoza, who died early this morning, has been ruled as a possible homicide. She was found in Marquette Park last night, at a rally sponsored by the local chapter of the Quarrymen.

EMTs rushed to the scene after a concerned citizen phoned the police, claiming, "This... huge thing came swoopin' out of the sky, and started spoutin' nonsense, an'... an' challenged the head Quarrywoman to like a duel and stuff!"

The C.P.D. vice unit was dispatched to the park, as well as several ambulances, but no narcotics or hallucinogens were found.

Several people identified as Quarrymen members were also taken to Rush-Presbyterian-St. Luke's Medical Center and treated for assorted abrasions, bruises, and broken bones.

Medics had to use Jaws of Life and cutting equipment to extract Mendoza from the body armor she wore, who had sustained a heavy blow to the stomach, as well as signs of a lightning strike, despite the clear skies that night.

She lapsed into and out of consciousness before passing on from a combination of burn trauma and poisoning from the leaky seals on her armor's front panel."

He turned from the screen, taking a good look at Jamie before saying anything. Her eyes were bloodshot and raw, with grime running down her cheeks. He took her hand in his own, feeling faint perforations where she must have driven her claws into her own palms, and she trembled slightly. "Jamie, I watched you fight. You did everything you could to try not to kill her. I know this is hard on you, I've been there before. But, you're not in the wrong, here."

She looked at him, swallowing hard as she tried to hold back tears, and said, "You can't understand. You're born to this sort of thing, I'm... I'm not."

Sighing, he held her hand tightly, and closed his eyes. "It's no easier on us than it is for you. Perhaps Humans still register in your mind as being "like you", I don't know. But, it still hurts to take a life, even for someone who's been through as much as Trent, I know that. "

He hauled back on her arm, yanking her out of the chair with a cry. "C'mon, you're comin' right over here with me."

She asked what he was doing, but didn't resist, as he dragged her towards the closet. Releasing her just long enough to open the door, he motioned her to enter. Shrugging, she moved inside, curious as to what he needed to tell her.

"Okay, look in the mirror. Tell me what you see," he asked her, adding, "It's very important."

She peered into the mirror, wondering what he was getting at. "Okay, Branson, I'm not seeing it, whatever it is. Go ahead and make your profound revelation."

Grinning, he said, "Thanks, hun, I think I will. I'll tell you what I'm seein' in that mirror. I see the same woman I saw two nights ago. What I don't see is a pool of blood drippin' from your claws. You're no different than you were, you know."

She sighed, turning her head away from the mirror, and replied, "Maybe you're right. But, the fact remains that a life was ended last night that didn't need to be. That's a thing I can never fix or undo."

He laid a hand on her shoulder, seeing the sadness in the depths of her dark eyes, and spoke quietly, "No, you can't. I'm glad you understand that. I'd say the blame rests as much on her shoulders as on yours, though.

Remember? You gave her a chance to yield, twice, and she refused. I wouldn't have you say that you're without blame, but try to remember that she could have ended it, too."

She pushed him aside, brushing a hip against him as she navigated the narrow confines of the closet. "That hardly matters. I was the one who lost control and did my best imitation of an electric chair. If I hadn't let myself get distracted, I'd have just knocked Luisa down. Instead, she's dead because I just had to be flashy!"

She laid down on the futon, staring at the ceiling, and appeared to be lost in thought. Branson noticed her lower lip trembling, and his heart sank. He wanted to do something to reassure her, but as lost as she was, it would be quite difficult.

A crunch under his talon brought him out of his reverie. These had to go, anyway. A brief smile crossed his face as he ducked back into the closet, pulling out a broom and dustpan, and began to attend to the fragments littered about the floor.

She glanced down at him, taking her eyes off the ceiling for a moment, and asked, "Bran, what are you up to?"

He shrugged, allowing the sound of sweeping to fill the silence for a moment, then said, "It would seem that I'm cleanin' up after a mess you were too busy to take care of."

She stared at him, growling softly. "I didn't ask you to do this. I'm perfectly capable of cleaning my own room, mom."

He chuckled at her, smiling, and said dryly, "I can see that. Don't you worry about a thing, I've started, I might as well finish. It's part of a little thing called "friendship". I hope you haven't forgotten about it."

She inhaled deeply, her eyes narrowing in anger, but she paused, then exhaled in a sigh. "No... almost I had, but not entirely. Can I... give you a hand?"

Branson shook his head, saying, "Nahh, I think I've got this. What you could do, though, is to get that lovely ass downstairs and see if the others need a hand. You might also think about apologizing to Kee. A Banishment is not something offered lightly, hun."

Laying a hand across his shoulder, she caressed it lightly, silently thanking Branson for his compassion and his stubbornness. She strode out of the room, her pale hair trailing behind her like a cloak, a sense of purpose filling her heart again. The dull ache of guilt still tore at her with every beat of her heart, but it no longer overwhelmed her with its darkness as it had before.

Before she came to the basement, she began to hum, beckoning Kee to her. With a startling suddenness, he materialized in front of her, relief showing on his face. "You summoned me, milady?"

She nodded, holding a hand out to him. "You were shadowing me, weren't you? Did you read the article I showed Branson?"

He shook his head. "That is not within my power. Print, and especially handwriting, avails itself to my sight, but electronic text is unreadable. I cannot distinguish light from dark upon the screen. I did, however... overhear your conversation with him."

She chuckled softly and said, "So you were spying on me? No matter. You did the right thing. I shouldn't have gone off on you last night. You didn't deserve that. I'm not thinking straight right now, but that's not any fault of yours."

He smiled faintly and took her hand, saying, "I would be but a poor servant if I did not avail myself to your needs, whether physical and emotional, I believe."

"You're no servant, not if I have anything to say about it," she insisted, her voice taking on a tone of conviction, "I wouldn't ask anyone to take such a role for me."

He interrupted her, sounding just as convinced, "Quite simply, you did not. Do you not remember? It is my choice to serve you. Do not think that a simple emotional outburst after such a harsh trial would be enough to make me forego my word. I do hope you think more of me than that."

"You're right, of course. I haven't been making a very good showing of myself tonight, have I," she wondered aloud.

A reassuring note entered his voice as he said, "With good reason, I believe. I would be far more concerned if you had not been so affected. Would it help you to know that once, after the Lady Jessica had been forced to kill in her own defense, she refused to speak for three days, and spent the entire time staring into the mirror?"

Jamie gasped in shock, "Are you serious? I'm not going insane?"

Kee chuckled, saying, "Your mental state has just become disturbed. By all rights, you are a little insane. Not, however, unexpectedly so."

Jamie realized abruptly that she was standing in front of Elayne's workshop, having not paid attention to the trip. Kee said, "At any rate, your apology is accepted, milady. As I believe you have other business to attend to, I shall take my leave. You may, of course, call for me at any time, even if all you wish is for someone to talk with."

Vanishing in a prismatic shimmer, he left Jamie to make amends with her other Clanmates...

---

Gen-U-Tech, Chicago Branch

913 Taylor Rd, Romeoville

4:52 P.M.

Dr. John Yutani was shrugging into his pearl-white overcoat, pleased with the day's progress. The Legion project was showing a certain, encouraging degree of success, and his janitors had finally managed to terminate the last infestation of genetically engineered attack insects from the building's basement complex.

A pity that detective, Starr, had skipped town. No doubt fearing Yutani's wrath after betraying his trust, he was nowhere to be found. The latest revision of the Mutate serum had been synthesized uneventfully, but without subjects to test it on... Oh well. Keller's team could, no doubt, find other suitable candidates.

Of course, there was also that request from his superiors. Wasn't it something about Project Iliad? Perhaps they might have use of his latest Mutate serum. A grin came to his face, thinking of what a combined effort might produce.

And, of course, there was the report from Keller's team. He'd hoped that they would have been able to inject all four of the gargoyles, but two were better than none.

He was knocked from his ruminations as the phone rang, a loud, insistent tone that indicated it was a Priority call. Snarling, he picked it up, telling the caller, "I was just leaving. Call back in the morning, or leave a message with my assistant. Good day."

As he moved to hang it up, a calm, pleasant voice spoke a single word, a name. "Henrikson."

Yutani hesitated, the blood draining from his face, then lifted the handset back to his ear. "Ah. Well, that would be different then. How may I help you?"

The other man, who sounded young, yet very confident, told him, "I thought that might get your attention. My name is Gary Penn, I believe the Director informed you that I would be contacting you?"

Yutani threw himself into the chair, his heart beating furiously, eyes darting around the room like those of a caged animal. "Yeah, he mentioned your name. Might I ask what this is about, Mr. Penn?"

The young man chuckled softly, a faintly scolding tone coming into his voice, "No need for such close friends to be so formal, John. Call me Gary. Now, my notes indicate that the Director warned you to stay clear of... our mutual interests, is this correct?"

Yutani sunk into the chair, eyes closed, and began rubbing his temple with his spare hand, saying, "Yes, he may have mentioned something of the sort. I've done precisely what he asked, don't worry."

The admonishing tone in Gary's voice became more pronounced as he questioned, "Might I ask, then, if you are aware of how your employee, a Tony Keller, I believe, has been spending his evenings?"

Yutani put on a show of bravado, claiming, "As long as they do what I ask, I make it a point not to pry into the personal lives of my employees."

Gary spoke icily, "Quite. Which is why it should be of no surprise to either of us that Mr. Keller recently received a payment of $8, 279 dollars to his personal account? Really, John, you ought to have declared that as a gift. Better for your taxes that way, you know."

Feeling the room cave in around him, Yutani said, "Well, you see, it was, um..."

Gary chuckled, projecting an air of mirth, "A payment for a job well done, no doubt. Good of you to take such care of your employees."

His voice instantly hardened as he added, "But, you were warned to stay out of Government affairs once already. We shouldn't have to tell you twice. We're watching you, John, and I would recommend that you keep that in mind. I suppose I've kept you long enough, however. You shouldn't keep your wife waiting, John. I'd suggest the lobster, or perhaps the veal. Good evening."

---

Marquette Park

6734 S. Kedzie Ave.

5:27 P.M.

The park seemed rather tranquil, despite the large muddy patches torn into the grass, the massive burn mark in the middle, the litter and debris, and of course, the hole driven into the amphitheater's stage.

A slight breeze stirred the remaining grass, highlighting a patch that had been burned and discolored by motor oil. A figure, garbed in black with a cowl resting over his forehead, knelt down and felt at the patch with his fingers. A flash of silver showed before his cuff fell once again.

A vision entered his mind, and his body threw itself into a spasm as he felt tendrils of lightning roiling through his body. Before his companion shook him out of the trance, he looked up, seeing the shimmering image of a statuesque Gargoyle woman, eyes wide in horror as Power ripped its way out of her body.

"Sora! SORA! You must break free of the trance. Come back to this time, to this place," a deep, resonant voice tinged with a Middle Eastern accent implored him, shaking the young man softly.

The young man shook his head, brown hair falling into his eyes, as the last vestiges of the trance faded. "It's okay, M'shai. Unhh, there was an awful lot of magic drained into this spot last night. I saw who was using it, though, I'll know her if I see her."

M'shai released him, standing tall as he examined the area. He towered over the smaller man, at least a head taller, but also wore a black coat, the collar of a white linen tunic visible at its neck. He sniffed the air, smelling for anything untoward.

His eyes opened widely, as he gasped, "She tapped the power of the caern from here?"

Sora nodded, brushing his auburn hair back absently, and gazed around the area, walking to a spot nearby. "Yeah, I think she must have. Somehow. I thought that was something that only your people knew how to do, though."

M'shai shifted uneasily as he revealed, "As had I... Did she appear to be seeking its energy? I must warn the local authorities if she had."

Sora chuckled, planting his feet apart widely, standing on his tiptoes. "She... interesting, I think she wove two shields together at this spot. Not very well, though. It was a gutsy move, regardless. No, I don't believe so, though trying to guess the motivations of a Gargoyle is tricky business."

M'shai seemed to relax at that pronouncement. "One of your winged friends, that's good. The sept will still need to know, of course, but perhaps we should offer our services. I think we might be a little more... forgiving than de Silva. Besides, I always liked this town. I could stand a few days here."

Sora nodded negligently, trailing off towards the stage. He ran his hand along the impact crater, frowning. "Well, magic didn't do this. Looks like a grenade hit it. Any ideas, M'shai?"

The long-legged man loped over, vaulting the stage in a single bound. Kneeling, he picked up a shard of the sandstone and ran his finger along its edge. "It's smooth. I don't think an explosive did this. I would imagine this to be the work of one of those Quarryhammers we heard about."

Sora looked behind the stage, noting where poles had been sunk into the ground to support a curtain, and traced an arc in the air. "Another shield back here. A distortion... I'm thinking that she ran with it active, maybe to escape. Three shield spells, and some sort of lightning spell that I'm not familiar with. Not the work of a Sorcerer, and too flashy to be one of your foemen. Yes, we should go tell your people what's been in their neighborhood. Better they find out from us than on their own."

M'shai frowned, his face creasing as he considered their options. "Those of my Tribe aren't well received by most others, remember. And yet, to send you in alone would be... unpleasant. We shall have to approach this most carefully, friend."

Sora looked back, smiling at his companion. "Hey, it's not the first time we've been the bearers of unwelcome news. And, if they try to shoot the messengers... I trust you to watch my back."

Grumbling, M'shai muttered, "It's not the shooting that worries me..."

----Chapter Two---

Givens Castle

8:16 P.M.

Jamie rested her head against the back of the recliner, rubbing her eyes. Her head hurt from all the mucking around in the workshop. It didn't help that she knew approximately nothing about medicine, or that the tools they had managed to jury-rig together were not up to the task.

To add insult to injury, all of their tests came up negative. There didn't seem to be any infections in her bloodstream, and she seemed healthy enough. It didn't seem likely that the darts, uncommon weapons as they were, would have been the result of some crowd member's irritation. Nor was it likely that they had been unloaded. They had surely been meant to deliver some agent.

Trent thought it likely that her overactive immune system, a gift of her Gargoyle nature, had purged the agent from her body overnight, and smugly took it as a sign that Gen-U-Tech didn't know much about their unique physiology.

At least the work had helped calm her down. She didn't feel quite so much like the scum of the earth as she had earlier that night. It still didn't seem right to her, though, that Luisa had died a painful death, but that she had come out of it without a scratch.

And, all for the sake of what was, in the grand scheme of things, nothing more than a PR stunt. That was what bothered her most about the whole thing. Jamie had not truly been fighting for her life. Luisa had been a surprisingly effective combatant, to be sure, but Jamie could have fled at any time, as long as she could have kept the shield operational.

No, she just had to make a point, performing in some farce of a morality play to show how the Good of Love and Honor will always triumph over the Evil of Hate and Deceit.

She snorted at herself, thinking, 'Here you go again, trying to drown yourself in guilt. She was obviously suicidal, or she'd have surrendered when you'd given her that chance. Or, at least when you blew out her armor.'

She felt a pair of strong, furred hands clutch her shoulders and begin rubbing, leaning into it as she felt knots of tension beginning to unwind. "Mmm, that feels nice."

Trent chuckled and continued to massage the wide expanse of her shoulders, commenting, "It ought to. Elayne has a bad habit of working herself until she can barely move. I've gotten a good deal of practice at this."

He felt a particularly tense section of muscle resisting his efforts at loosening it, and shifted his hands, slapping at it with the edges of his hands. Between strokes, he said, "You're just the same, yeah? What'd you do to relax before yeh got here? I'm thinkin' that I haven't seen yeh actually chill in all the time you've been here. You're always so busy with that magical stuff."

Grinning, he looked down at her and added, "Or, you're letting me beat the stuffing out of you."

Jamie laughed loudly, Trent joining her, as she felt some of the emotional weight lift from her. "Well, I used to read quite a bit, but Jessica doesn't seem to have had much of a taste for fiction."

Trent told her to lean forward, working down her back, and said, "Check downstairs, I'm sure you'll spot my collection easy enough. But, c'mon, lass. I'd hope you've something a little more... exciting."

She smiled at him, commenting, "Well, you guys mind if I order a few books?"

Trent cocked his head, saying, "Umm... I don't think that'd be a problem. I'd check with Branson first, though. Why, what are you up to?"

Her eyes twinkled with mischief as she replied, "You'll see. I'll need some time from you guys when they get here, though. I'll try to make it worth your while. In the mean time, I guess I ought to give the Simulator a try. I used to be a pretty big gamer."

Trent nodded, finishing his task, and confirmed, "I doubt that'll be a problem. You might find it a little more satisfying than your old consoles, yeah? Look, we're all a little worried about yeh, whether yeh know it or not. I respect yeh, don't worry about that, but I feel like you're not really at home here."

She sighed, hung her head, and answered, "Yeah, I know. It's not your fault, or anyone's, really. I just... I feel like I shouldn't goof off until I figure out what to do about my dreams. It's just... I really don't really know what to do, and I'm losing time with every breath that passes."

Trent shook his head, whistling sharply. "Well, that'd explain your unease. Not a weight I'd want on my shoulders, heh. Still, try to get some R&R in, okay?"

She looked up at him, a faint smile twisting her lips, and nodded. "I'll try. You're probably right, it's just kind of hard to see it that way, sometimes."

He placed a hand on her shoulder, saying quietly, "Yeah, I know what yeh mean. We all just have to do the best we can, yeah? You're good people, Jamie. I know you'll figure out what yeh need to do."

Jamie's expression softened, and she squeezed his hand softly. "Thanks, Trent. I'm glad you have so much faith in me. It helps, you know that?"

He flashed a boyish grin at her, his eyes glittering in amusement. "You've been dealt a rum lot, lass, and it's not a fate I'd hope for anyone. Least I can do is help you feel comfortable here."

He pulled his hand away, turning from her, and said, "Well, I shouldn't be keeping you. Oh, and thanks for the help earlier. I know it seems like we're being a little paranoid, but better safe than sorry, yeah?"

"That's fine, I understand completely. I'm not any happier about getting shot than Branson was, that's for sure," she commented, chuckling.

Trent nodded and headed for the door, humming merrily as he left.

Jamie sighed, stretching languidly, and felt her body respond more freely than it had for... days, at the least. She hadn't noticed how tight her shoulders had felt, since it had crept up upon her so slowly.

Rising from the recliner, she struck a pose, flexing and spreading her wings widely, nearly filling the cozy room with her presence. Despite all that was on her plate, and even after last night, she didn't feel that her new life was such a terrible fate, the way Trent seemed to look at it. She arguably fit in better here than she ever had with her friends as a human.

It wasn't that she'd been overly shy, or a social imbecile as a man. She'd just never gotten too close to anyone. Ever her girlfriend... if this strange transfer hadn't happened, their relationship probably wouldn't have lasted too much longer. Her only real friend had been Brian, and even that was less a true friendship than a case of mutual ostracization.

On the other claw, she felt much more at ease with her new Clanmates. Well, generally she did, the last few nights had been a little rough. She thought about the raid on the Gen-U-Tech complex, trying to imagine how she would have reacted if she'd somehow been along in her old body.

She chuckled softly as she walked towards the basement, trying to see herself, in her old, geeky form, holding off the Texas mosquitoes with a sword in one hand and a gun in the other. Pshaw, right! She doubted that she would have been even as much of a fighter as Shang. More likely, she'd have been cowering in or corner, or perhaps hanging on to Jessica's leg for dear life.

She took a moment to ponder that. It still astonished her how easily she had accepted her new self, taking on a feminine identity as part of the core of her very being. Sure, with little to no chance of returning to her world, less desire to do so, and a body like hers, it wasn't too surprising. But, to have that change in her self-awareness ripple back into the past that way, that was what surprised her.

It wasn't as though she had any sort of true change in her memories. It's not as though she envisioned herself running track with this new form. Though, near as far as she'd been able to tell, she was still awfully good at it, as long as she kept her bosom properly supported.

She rounded the corner, trotting at a good pace as she contemplated the changes she'd gone through. Slowing, she poked her head into the simulator room, wanting to make sure she wouldn't be interrupting anyone. The lights snapped on as the room's sensors detected her movement, revealing the nearly featureless, gleaming steel walls. Walking in quietly, she quickly scanned the room, checking inside the control room.

Satisfied that it was hers for the taking, she quickly stripped down, placing her clothes and torc armlets into one of the lockers outside. She stepped into the control room, took one of the silvery bodysuits, and slipped it over her nude form, a shiver running down her spine as the thin, clingy material wrapped closely around her skin.

She also grabbed one of the sensor rods, tucking it down the neckline of her suit for safekeeping, and placed a pair of display glasses onto her ears, then settled onto the stool. Cracking her knuckles, she began to access the system, not certain of what it contained, and untrusting of the voice control system.

Her eyes scanned the directories with a practiced ease, seeing many simulator presets, high-definition objects, and other applications. It took her a moment to find the games folder, and many of them were unfamiliar to her.

Her full lips twisted into a smile as she spied an Unreal game. It wasn't one she was familiar with, though that didn't surprise her too much, but it seemed to her that it would fit the bill perfectly. Unless they'd changed dramatically over the years, it would provide her with enough over-the-top action to lose herself within for a little while.

She glanced at the system's main controls, making sure the actors' parameters were set to normal. No sense getting beat up too seriously just for fun. A brief pang of remorse broke into her mind, but she gently pushed it aside. Realistic or no, these were still just digital illusions, nothing at all like her last opponent.

Tapping the Initialize key, she stepped out of the control closet, pulling the door closed behind her. The lights dimmed, blinding her momentarily, then came back up to reveal a long hall, seeming to stretch into infinity, glimmering bronze statues lining its walls, showing men, women, and aliens in powered armor, striking various victorious poses.

A booming, echoing voice, undeniably male, sounded from all around her, saying, "It's been too long, Jessica. Welcome again to the Unreal Invitational!"

She grinned as a menu shimmered into being in front of her. Pulling the sensor rod out of its hiding place, she worked it to create a new profile for herself. Figuring to start with the basics, since she was a little out of practice, she ran the tutorial.

Most of it was familiar to her, even with the change of interface, and she performed quite well in the tutorial tournament.

Without realizing it, she'd already reached the final match, her and a virtual teammate against two opponents in a last man standing game. It seemed simple enough, though she remained wary of any twists that could throw her off.

A cutscene fired as the arena loaded, her viewpoint traveling over a badland composed of natural gullies and trenches, scraggly brown grasses struggling to survive in the inhospitable environment. Several small vehicle depots dotted the landscape, and the arena's central feature was some manner of alien spacecraft, twisted and bent as it lay half-buried in its own crater.

Two beings stood in front of it, gazing at the desolate landscape as Jamie and Beowulf, a tall and far too handsome human in finely wrought armor of glittering steel, flew towards the ship on hovercycles.

One of the pair, a large reptilian with bony crests trailing down his back, raised a heavy minigun and opened fire on Jamie and her teammate, driving their cycles into the ground. Smoke billowed out as their engines caught fire, moments before they plunged into the hard, cracked soil. Her avatar, which was sized much like her true form, but with different, harsher facial features, and garbed in scanty armor of beaten gold, bailed from the 'cycle.

It rolled to its feet, regarding the two alien warriors. The large reptile gawked at her, saying, "Im...impossible! Fumiko, what does the sensor say about her strength level?"

The petite, Asian-looking near-human woman stared at Jamie's avatar through a strange, metal eyepiece, then pulled it off with a snarl. Stunned, she shouted, "That... can't be! IT'S OVER NINE THOUSAND!" With that, she crushed the device in a deceptively frail-looking hand, shards of metal and electronics flying off in all

directions.

The reptile turned to look at Fumiko, jaw hanging open, asked, "What... nine thousand?!? There's no way that can be right... can it?"

Beowulf crawled from the wreckage of his craft, his armor dented and scorched, but his jaw was set in grim determination as he stepped to her side. A tumbleweed rolled across the plain between them as Jamie felt her viewpoint snap back into her avatar's eyes, and heard the deep voice of the announcer call out, "Match begins in... THREE... TWO... ONE!"

As soon as the suit unlocked, allowing her to move, she rolled to the side to prevent any hasty attacks from landing, and brought her pistol to bear, scanning the terrain. Beowulf was nowhere to be seen, and her two opponents seemed to have hidden themselves.

She stayed low, keeping along the walls of a nearby ridge as she scanned for supplies. She'd quickly discovered that her situational awareness was much better than it had ever been in the old PC versions, as the simulator reacted much more realistically. It must have taken a truly heroic effort to program this, she realized.

She had to wonder who'd modeled her avatar. It was eerily close in size and... dimensions to her real body, and moved extremely realistically, as she had seen in mirrored surfaces scattered around the arenas. The face was enough different to be unrecognizable, though, the features more angular, almost an Elven look, with four small horns along her heavier brows instead of the graceful, spiraled horns she had grown used to.

The skin tone was quite different, as well, a dusky maroon that reminded her vaguely of the surface of Mars. There was plenty of it on display, too, as her armor was obviously only for show, unlike Beowulf's. The thin, hammered gold of her breastplate left her smooth stomach, and most of her back, completely bare, the cups curled elaborately to suggest flames, and her legs were covered lightly in a tight chainmail harness, split in the back to allow her tail to move freely.

Paired bracers covered her forearms, acting as the game's controls, and storing her weapon when they were not in use. A thin golden circlet encircled her brow, her HUD locked to its orientation, as though the circlet were projecting it instead of the display glasses.

It was a most striking effect, she had to admit, even if she doubted how protective it would be in reality. She smiled as she imagined the havoc she could cause online with this avatar, and had to wonder if that wasn't the intention.

An electric arc flashed by her head, driving her from her reverie, and she fired off a few suppressing shots to force the unseen opponent away. Her eyes caught a faint rippling through the air, and she aimed just ahead of it, spurts of yellowish blood rewarding her. The announcer laughed, calling out, "FIRST BLOOD!"

Judging by the size of the Invisibility blur, she decided it had to be the reptile. Glancing around as she reloaded, she spied a shock rifle thrust into the ground near a scorch mark, a helmet resting on its butt. Another bolt of lightning burned the air near her body, reducing her shielding just a tick, and she leapt into the air to avoid another shot, thrusting downward with her wings to gain a little extra altitude.

Grabbing the rifle in passing, she landed with a heavy thud, her pistol disappearing into thin air as she let go. She raised the rifle and snapped off a thin, blue energy beam at the blur. Energy washed across the reptile's surface as he flew through the air. His arms flailed wildly before he hit the ground, bouncing with the force. Grinning, Jamie took off once more, weary of another ambush.

The rumbling of a vehicle engine reached her ears, and she pressed her back against the stony wall, watching for it. A shock rifle wouldn't be much good, but it'd have to do. Her radio crackled as the hovercraft roared around the corner, and she heard Beowulf ask, "You need a ride, Dragon?"

She smiled as the callsign rolled off his lips. She hadn't had much luck coming up with a name, so she had signed herself in as "ShivanDragon", wondering if anyone would recognize the reference. Obviously, the AIs didn't catch on, but it still amused her.

She jumped onto the side of the vehicle as it slowed in front of her, taking the turret. The massive laser cannon swung freely under her steady hands, and she snapped off a quick test shot as Beowulf accelerated again. Dust flew up in a fountain, leaving a glassy crater behind from the bolt's energy. It took over a second for the cannon to recharge, but she considered that to be worth the impressive effect.

A shadow passed over her for a moment, and she swiveled the cannon upwards as a loud pulsating whine reached her. A strangely organic, rounded jetfighter had buzzed them, and she guessed that her foes were at the helm. She fired off several bolts at it, tagging the vehicle's right engine pod with one shot, then held her breath, releasing a final shot at it.

As it exploded in a ball of green flame, she saw twin flares of plasma fire below it, and she realized they had bailed out, using jetpacks to soften their descent. She spoke in a clear, clipped voice, issuing the simple commands the AI could understand. "Attack my target, Beowulf."

He glanced back, giving a thumbs up as he gunned the engine. A faint whirring resonated through the vehicle, then a loud, rhythmic snarling as he trigged the chainguns, hurling dozens of pounds of depleted uranium at the plummeting aliens.

Releasing the cannon for a moment, she pointed a claw at a nearby depot and said, "Beowulf, drop me off there."

He replied, "Roger," then skidded into a wide turn, allowing her jump off when she was near enough. Taking a moment to raid its armory, she recharged her shock rifle and added a rocket launcher to her arsenal. She almost missed another weapon, but a gleaming of green light caught her eye, and she picked it up, smiling as her HUD identified it as a 'spider mine launcher.'

The real reason she had asked to stop lay outside, however, and she hopped into the cockpit of a one-man antigrav fighter. Its computer system brought up a reticule as she started its engine, allowing her to aim the wire-guided missiles it carried.

She hadn't recalled vehicles being that much of a factor in the version she had been familiar with, except for a few game modes. It actually reminded her more of the Battlefield games, but she'd happily adapted to their presence.

She rose into the air, the vehicle responding almost as swiftly as her wings, but a flash of light made her close her eyes for a moment. When her vision cleared, she saw the burned out wreckage of the hovertank lying in a deep crater, looking as though a nuke had hit it. There was no way Beowulf could have survived, though that wasn't as much of a problem as it would have been in reality.

She scanned the ground, looking for his assailant, but had to break off the search as a warning tone sounded in the cockpit, warning her of an incoming missile. Activating the fighter's boosters, she took it down into the warrens, trusting in her skill as a pilot to lose the missile in the tight confines before she crashed into a wall.

She heard an explosion go off behind her, and pulled out of the narrow gully, performing a graceful loop through a stone arch. Seeing a flash of wet-looking material, she aimed her missiles at the enemy vehicle, placing her own fighter on autopilot for a moment as she guided the missiles by hand.

She guessed the reptile had been piloting it, judging by the amateurish evasive maneuvers it executed. The heavy aircraft detonated as her ordinance struck it, careening into the ground as it trailed greasy black smoke.

The announced shouted in a triumphant voice, "Beowulf has been eliminated," leaving Jamie facing suddenly rougher odds. Still, judging by the message traffic she'd seen, he'd made a few kills before dropping out, and that was all she could ask. It always was embarrassing when the bots beat the player in a game, after all.

A loud hissing sound filled her ears, followed by a series of loud blasts, and a quick glance at her status display confirmed her fears. Someone had been firing bioexplosive goop at her craft, and a few of the bits of sludge had stuck and exploded. It wasn't critical damage, but it'd slow her down, and she decided that she would be better off on foot than in a crippled flyer, particularly with the heavy ordinance she'd scored earlier.

Slamming the emergency escape button, she launched herself out of the damaged aircraft, spinning backwards in a graceful flip, then spread her wings widely to glide down. That would make her an easy target, but she had a plan. Lightning discharges started to flash past her as she dodged and weaved, curling her wings closely around her body to increase her speed.

Bringing up the rocket launcher, she began to return fire, but blacked out for a moment as the suit froze around her. She swore softly, muttering that she'd been hoping for a Perfect Victory award.

She began to run as soon as the suit unlocked, finding herself in another part of the badlands. Too bad she'd lost that rocket launcher, though. Pulling up a map, she loped towards the nearest depot, figuring that she needed something with a little more oomph than her Enforcer pistol. She was able to make it to the armory with little trouble, kicking in its door when she discovered the active lock. Quickly taking stock of the supplies, she snapped a shielding belt around her trim waist, then picked up an imposing, two-handed weapon with a massive bore.

She looked at it, grinning, as she thought, 'This thing makes Branson's pistols look like pop guns in comparison. I bet he'd love this thing.'

Gathering as much ammo as she was allowed to carry, she left the relative safety of the depot, leading the way with her newly acquired flak cannon. Not a moment too soon, it seemed, as she saw the bulky form of her reptilian opponent bounding toward her, covering the ground quickly with powerful thrusts from its redwood-like legs.

Bracing the weapon, she dashed towards the enemy, coming in at an angle, and began to fire as quickly as she could cycle its action, pumping out razor-sharp shards of super-heated metal towards the reptile. Most of the shredded metal missed him, but a few of the chunks melted their way through his vaguely Samurai-looking armor and pierced his skin.

Sliding into a crouch, he launched himself into the air, grinning as he aimed his lightning gun at her. With a similarly savage smile, Jamie muttered, "Pull!"

Pulling on the secondary trigger, she launched an unshredded shell at the lizard, striking him squarely in the chest. It detonated with a loud bang, the shaped charge diverting most of the force directly through his armor plate. The lizard fell to the ground, lifeless, as bits of flak clattered the ground like hail.

Jamie kicked the body over, placing a hand on his weapons bracer, and absorbed the armament he had carried as the announcer said, "Bok Choy has been eliminated!"

She tapped a button on her own bracer as she straightened, quickly pulling up the rankings. It seemed that she was down to two lives, while Fumiko was on her last. Jamie decided to take this next battle carefully, not wanting the victory to slip away from her because of a stupid mistake.

She found an object that looked like a skateboard, though without any wheels, half-buried in a pile of dust. She kicked its exposed end sharply, and it flipped into the air, righting itself about six inches above the ground. She planted one foot on it, then the other, then leaned forward when she was satisfied that it would support her weight.

It amazed her how realistic this all felt. She would have sworn that the wind was blowing past her body, properly dulled by her minimalistic armor, everywhere except her head, due to the design of her bodysuit.

Unfortunately, she also was quickly reminded of how unpleasant that realism could be, as a bolt of lightning struck her in the chest. While it was nowhere near as nasty as a real hit would have been, the faint electrical discharge the suit applied to her bare skin was painful enough for her tastes.

The suit locked again, but didn't unfreeze as normal for a respawn. She had just enough time to wonder if something had gone wrong when another cutscene fired. It showed a helicopter-type view of the badlands, focused on the crater. The alien spacecraft had begun to glow, and the hypothetical pilot called out, "Mayday! Somethin' weird's happenin' to that thingamajig downstairs! Pulling out n -"

He was rudely interrupted by a massive explosion, then the feed went to static.

When Jamie could move her body again, her HUD was scrambled, and, suspecting the worst, her pistol refused to fire when she tested it.

A flash of light set her on alert, and she slid to the side, a keen-edged katana cutting through the air, as well as the skin of her arm, where she had just been standing.

She picked it up, just in time to hear Fumiko's shrill voice echoing off the walls of the canyon. "It's time we settled this... in the way of my people!"

----Chapter III----

Lightning lit the digital sky as clouds of radioactive dust filtered down in multicolored streamers, a dense, grey fog rising from the ground as the dust bit into it. She scanned the arena, taking off in a dead run to make herself a harder target. Demoniac cackling filled the air as her opponent stalked her, and the interplay of shadow against the stone walls made Jamie slightly disoriented.

A flash of movement caught her eye, and she spun on one foot, bringing up the sword in a low guard, just as a matching blade arced in like a crescent moon. Fumiko's black eyes blazed with an inner fire beneath the spiky, purple hair, her arms straining as she struggled to defeat the larger woman's block.

Jamie lashed out with a foot, staggering the near-human, then brought her own blade down, slashing her opponent from head to hip. The alien began to fall backwards, but froze in the air as the sound of thunder filled the air. A moment later, a shockwave hit Jamie in the back, knocking her through her terminated opponent, and shoved her to the ground.

She rose swiftly, using the sword to help lever her body off the ground, and spun to see what had happened. A blackened crater had been driven into the ground, and an eerie, green light emitted from the crater's center. Sword raised, she approached slowly, expecting some sort of climactic boss battle to finish off the mock tournament.

She climbed over the heaped lip of the crater, and was surprised to see what lie within. The figure appeared to be a Gargoyle woman, shorter and more delicately built than herself, wrought of quicksilver or chrome. Her sleek body was unimpeded by armor or garment, a latticework of shimmering filaments of green light the only thing allowing her any modesty.

She was kneeling on one knee, her right hand pressed flat against the ground, and a faint crystalline shimmer showed between her spread fingers, reminding Jamie of diamond.

As Jamie approached, the woman rose, glanced up at her, and smiled. When she spoke, Jamie was reminded of something, but couldn't quite put her finger on it. "Heya, Jamie. Looked like a pretty good match, sorry I had to interrupt."

Jamie narrowed her eyes, holding her sword between the two of them, and spoke in a menacing voice, "Who... or what... are you?"

The metallic woman took a step towards her, spreading her arms wide, and said sarcastically, "What, you don't remember me? Yeah, it's been a few weeks, sure. But, you haven't exactly been that easy to reach, y'know."

Jamie lowered the sword, looking confused, and shook her head slowly. "I... no, I don't think I've ever met you before. I think I'd remember."

The quicksilver Gargoyle walked up to her, her metal skin glittering in the filtered light, and said, "Think back. November 3rd, just a few minutes before sunrise. You found a disc in your computer, and received a message."

Jamie gasped, her mind finally making the connection. "You're... Guinevere? You're the one that broke into our Castle?"

Guinevere smiled at her, revealing a row of perfectly aligned, crystalline teeth, and nodded. "Well, if you want to be technical about it, that was actually my mate, Lancelot. But, I got him through the security systems, and I was the one who wrote up that little message for you."

Jamie shook her head, looking slightly dizzy, and setting to the ground, releasing the katana from her grasp. As it clattered to the ground, she asked, "How did you get in here? I thought this Castle was supposed to be secure. What do you want with us?"

Guinevere settled down next to the much larger woman, and began to kick her legs against the charred stone like a child. "Well, your firewall's got as many holes as a politician's conscience, and it's not hard to slip into the internal net. This is only an assumed body, y'know. I don't really have a body. Kinda sad."

Jamie looked at her, eyes narrowed, and asked, "What, are you a Fey or something like that?"

Guinevere shook her head quickly, her silicon-green bangs falling into her eyes, and said, "Naaah, nothing like that. I'm what might be scientifically referred to as a "semi-autonomous knowbot". I prefer the term synthetic intelligence, myself, but I don't get that worked up about it."

Jamie stared at her, trying to figure out what sort of joke was being played on her. "So, you're a... piece of software that hacked into our system. You decided to contact me, for whatever reason. I'm not buying it."

Guinevere pouted, sticking out her lower lip, and said, "You're hurting my feelings. Yeah, that's about right, though. Lancelot didn't like the idea too much, but... one moment."

She stared off into space, a vacant expression on her face. Jamie glanced into her eyes, seeing sparks of green and red shining in their pupils. After a few seconds, Guinevere exhaled sharply, blinking for a moment as she turned to look back at Jamie. "Men! I had to tell Lance to go chill, he's getting all spastic because he thinks I'm taking too long. Sometimes, he can be such a stick in the mud."

Jamie stared at her for a second, then began to laugh heartily, throwing her head back. A smile on her face, she said, "Alright, say I believe you. I want to know who programs an AI with that much attitude. Not to mention some of those phrases you use."

Guinevere smiled back at her, saying, "Well, no one, really. But, let me just say the Wikipedia is a wonderful thing. Back when I was restricted to the lab's system, I was a whole lot less interesting. Hell, I even bored myself, sometimes!"

Jamie chuckled, still looking a little stunned. "Why not? This is way too weird not to be true. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. I'm guessing you didn't just stop by to chat, though."

Guinevere clapped her hands together, excitedly, and said, "Attagirl! I knew I was right to trust you. I could have gone for Branson, too, but I just had a feeling you'd be more sympathetic. There's a coupla things I wanted to check with you on, if you don't mind."

Jamie shrugged and said, "Sure, whatever you need."

Guinevere nodded, then took on a solemn expression, and asked, "Have you looked at the disc that Lance left?"

Jamie affirmed, "Yes. In fact, some of the data you gave Jessica came in quite handy a few days ago."

Guinevere smiled, her eyes twinkling impishly, and said, "That's good. That was a fun job, digging that stuff out of the Pentagon for you. And, yeah, the data was meant for you, not Jessica. I just thought you might want to know a little bit about your predecessor. I just wish I could have dug up some more on her."

Guinevere ticked off a point on her fingers, then asked, "Next question. You know if your Clan is doing anything on the 30th? It's... kinda important. Try to keep that night clear, if there's any possible way."

Shrugging, Jamie said, "If we are, I haven't heard about it. I'll do my best to keep it open, though. Can I ask why?"

Guinevere waggled a finger in front of Jamie's face and said in a singsong voice, "It's a secret. But, you'll like it, I just know you will."

A cloud of radioactive dust blew past the two of them, as the wind began to blow harder. Growling softly, Guinevere said, "This is no good," and began to wave her hands at the cloud, shouting, "Shoo! Shoo! Get outta here!"

To Jamie's surprise, the cloud shifted away, and the dustfall ceased a moment later. A faint rainbow arced across the sky as the sun broke through the clouds. Guinevere crossed her arms and nodded smugly, saying, "That's better. I always hated this level, so depressing."

She looked distracted again for a moment, then sighed. "Boo. Lancelot really wants me to get going. He an' I are gonna have to talk later. Okay, last thing, real quick. I want you to know that there's another security tap on the Castle. Please, don't go looking for it. It's there for you own safety. I don't like how we have to spy on you, but trust me, it really is for the best. Oh, and if you talk to him again, tell Shang not to worry about that bit of video."

Jamie chuckled, commenting, "I can't say that relieves me all that much, but I'm sure he'll be happy to hear. I'll try to convince the others that the tap needs to stay."

Holding her claw out to the smaller woman, Jamie said, "Well, tell Lancelot that I said hello. It was good meeting you, Guinevere. Sorry for, well, waving a sword at you earlier."

The quicksilver Gargoyle chuckled, saying, "So ka. When you make entrances the way we do, you get used to it," and took Jamie's hand, but instead of shaking it, she used it to climb into the larger woman's arms, throwing her arms around the thickly muscled neck.

After a moment, she broke out of the hug and climbed down, waving as she turned away, saying, "Bye, Jamie! Catch ya later!"

With blurring speed, the smaller woman dashed back down to the center of the crater and spread her arms. Another bolt of lightning struck it, blinding Jamie for a moment, and when her vision cleared, Guinevere was nowhere to be seen.

Jamie stared at the crater for a moment, then heard the announcer proclaim, "RED TEAM IS VICTORIOUS!"

The lights dimmed as the simulator loaded an awards sequence, and she learned that the katana had been an unlockable weapon, only available to those who went through the tutorial tournament.

As soon as the game gave her the option to save her progress, she took it, shutting the simulator down. Hurrying slightly, she stripped out of the silvery bodysuit, hanging it in the control closet, and donned her regular clothes.

She took off towards Branson's office, but ran into him near the basement stairwell. He gestured towards the stairs, saying, "I was just coming to get you. We have visitors, and they're asking to meet with you. How they slipped past our security, I'll never know. They're waiting in the family room."

He followed her as she loped along the hallways, her long, muscular legs carrying her weight easily and nearly silently through the house. Branson mused to himself that, right now, he had about the best view in the house, directly behind her.

Jamie slowed as she came to the family room, taking a moment to calm herself. When she felt ready, she opened the door slowly, hearing someone speaking behind it, and walked in quietly.

A young, confident sounding voice was saying, "- so there I was, four Fomori at my back, looking for blood. I figured things were about to get pretty ugly if I ran, but I knew they'd smash my face in if I stood and fight. Fortunately, there'd been a pretty heavy rain the night before, and I ran into this," he cocked his head at the other figure, "big palooka face-first. Turns out he'd sensed the critters, and slipped back into our world through a friggin' puddle. He helped me up, and then we stood and fought."

A savage grin spread across his face as he finished, "It was a massacre. M'shai is just a machine in a fight, and I got a few tricks of my own."

The other man, this "M'shai", tapped him on the shoulder, pointing towards the door. "It looks like it's time for your appointment, Sora."

Sora glanced back at the door, then kicked his chair out from the table, rising to his feet in a fluid maneuver. He bowed to her in the Japanese style, saying, "Please call me Guardian Sora. I... have seen your face in a vision, but I waited to learn your name until I could hear it from your own lips. Would you be so kind as to oblige me?"

She looked at the young man, taking in the confident, open way that he held himself, particularly noticing the lack of fear present in his posture. His cloak was draped across the back of his chair, revealing a slender, whip-like build, obscured by the loose, black clothing he wore.

A jacket, trimmed in white, sat upon his shoulders, revealing a midnight blue shirt beneath it. A silver amulet, shaped like a stylized crown, sat lightly on his chest. A broad, red sash was wrapped around his waist, as well as several black and yellow belts with various pouches and bags hanging heavily from them.

He wore a pair of loose, black breeches that covered his knees above a pair of comfortable running shoes, and a pair of finger-cut gloves, slashed with red and yellow, covered his hands.

His face was round, still showing a few signs of baby fat, but one look at the piercing, ice blue eyes left Jamie thinking that this was a man who could be very hard when needed. He seemed to be in his early twenties, and she guessed he was an American of Oriental ancestry, judging by the pale tone of his skin and the faint tilt to his eyes.

She bowed back to him, noticing the lack of reaction to the inspiring view, and said, "I've been calling myself Jamie. What do you mean, you saw my face in a vision? Are you a Dreamer, too?"

He shook his head, his necklace jangling as he did, and said, "Not exactly. But I can sort of... feel where magic has been used, and if it's strong enough, sometimes get a sense of who used it, and for what purpose."

Jamie took a seat, and Sora sat as well, and he elaborated, "M'shai and I came to town on some other business, but we heard some odd reports about that Quarrymen rally last night."

M'shai added, his voice sounding cultured and refined, if slightly accented, "Sora and I might be called... troubleshooters. According to what Trent and Elayne have told us, your Clan is not so different. The local Garou sept knows about your involvement in the rally, but we volunteered to talk with you."

Jamie looked at the two of them and asked, "So, what, am I under arrest for unlawful use of magic or something like that? What's a 'garoo sept', anyway? What authority do they have?"

Sora made a placating gesture and said, "No, no, it's nothing like that. You know about werewolves, right? They call themselves Garou. A sept is kind of like one of your Clans. You're not in trouble or anything, it's just good procedure for... talented folk such as yourself to stick together."

He frowned, a thought occurring to him, and he added, "There is one thing, though. Um, M'shai, why don't you handle this?"

The dusky-skinned man nodded and intoned, "The Garou maintain sacred sites around the world, where the energy of our Mother Gaia filters through the Umbra into the Tellurian, our world. We call these sites caerns."

Exhaling heavily, he continued, sounding a little sad, "Sora and I believe that you accessed the energy of the Washington Park caern during the rally. We would... be most interested in how and why you accomplished this."

Jamie shook her head, crossing her arms in annoyance. "I won't deny that I got some sort of boost. I was trying to use an electrical spell to get the leader, Luisa, off my back when something tried to get into my head. Before I could get control back, the spell had gone haywire, and I had fried her like Emperor Palpatine. That's all I know."

Sora looked at his companion and asked, "That sound like a reasonable story to you, 'Shai? I'm a little out of my league here, big guy."

M'shai considered this for a moment, then said, "It... is possible, I believe. Unlikely, perhaps, but I know of no reason it should impossible. Jamie, you must understand, there are those that would seek to steal the energies of these sites for their own use. This cannot be allowed, and we would have no choice but to execute you if that were the case."

He smiled slightly at her, placing his hands on the table as he leaned forward conspiratorially and said, "However, I don't think that's what happened. Somehow, your... need, for lack of a better word, attracted the attention of the caern's guardian spirit. It must have decided to invest a measure of Power in you, for whatever reason. Far from being a criminal or a defiler, I see you as having been given a great gift."

He leaned back, looking a little smug, and added, "Far be it from me to second guess a caern's spirit, especially when it's not my own."

Jamie sighed in relief, asking, "So, if you're not a local, where are you from?"

He looked to the east, his gaze seeming to pierce the wall effortlessly and said, "My home is many, many miles from here. My people, the Silent Striders, do not often linger in one place. Suffice it to say that it has been many moons since I last saw the place of my birth."

As M'shai trailed off, Sora cleared his throat softly, saying, "He always gets a little melancholy when he thinks of home. You're probably wondering why I haven't gone hiding in terror yet, right?"

Jamie chuckled, shaking her head. "Not too much. If you travel with a werewolf, I think you would be pretty used to the strange and unusual."

He grinned at her, but said, "Nah, that's not the reason, though it does help. I'm from Ishimura. Have you heard of it?"

Jamie thought for a moment, but said no. He sighed, looking glum, and said, "It's a beautiful town. They still live in the Old Ways there, for the most part. But, here's the kicker. In the old Shinto shrine, a small Clan of Gargoyles lives. Unlike every other Clan I've heard of, they live in peace with the people of the town, teaching the ways of Bushido to those who want to learn. Not many come, but a few do."

Jamie's eyes widened in surprise, and she heard gasps from her Clanmates. Trent was the first one to break the silence, letting out a low whistle as he said, "Fantastic. I've always dreamed of a place like that, yeah? How long has this been going on?"

Sora shrugged, saying, "I don't really know. Hundreds of years, though, at the least. It's one of the best-kept secrets in Japan, though. If I hadn't been born there, I probably would never have learned about them."

Branson was next to speak, asking, "Is there any way of contacting them? I'd love to meet them, find out how they do it."

"Well, like I said, most of the villagers still go by the Old Ways there," Sora replied, sounding pained, "but, if you want, I'll see if I can get a message to them. The Clan's leader, Kai, is a great guy, you'd love him. I'm sure he'd be happy to meet you all, if there was some way he could do it without leaving the village for too long."

Branson grinned, intoning, "I've got my ways. Leave it to me. You just get that message to him. I'll have it written up before you leave."

Elayne broke in and asked, "So, kid, did you study with them? What'd you learn?"

Sora nodded, saying, "Uh-huh. It's an experience I'll never forget. Those of us Humans that go there, we join a group... sort of like a Knightly order, called the Order of the Guardians. It's said, although I never met him, that a man calling himself Tom of Avalon was the first Guardian, that he helped protect the eggs of a Clan in Europe when their rookery was under attack by the Vikings."

Elayne looked at him for a moment, wondering why this wasn't making sense. Then, it occurred to her, and she asked, "Of Avalon? Like, King Arthur and all that? What would he be doing all the way out in Japan? When was this, anyway?"

Sora spread his hands helplessly and replied, "Like I said, I never met him, so I really can't say. It's a funny thing, though. He came... oh, twenty-five years ago, somewhere around there. Don't think there's too many Vikings still around. He probably made the story up, to make himself sound better, but Kai trusted him. Even if he was a con-man, that would make me respect him."

Leaning back, he added, "Of course, I'm not your ordinary Guardian. I was sent out into the world to learn more. I got a few tricks that aren't in the normal playbook, and they really couldn't teach me much of that."

Jamie asked a question that had been stirring around inside her mind this whole time. She thought she knew the answer, but had to be certain. "Sora, M'shai... can either of you use magic? It's very important, I have to know."

The two outsiders looked at each other for a moment, then M'shai nodded. Sora closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, then said simply, "Yeah. I can."

M'shai added, "My kind do not use magic the way the Humans do, or the way I would imagine you do, but we have our own special gifts."

Jamie stood, slamming her palms on the table. "Okay, next thing I need to know. Do either of you know anyone else that can use magic?"

Sora shook his head, but M'shai's face took on a thoughtful expression, and he said, "While it is not, generally, our way to associate with mages, I believe... I believe that some of my kin may know of those who can use the arcane arts."

Jamie closed her eyes, slumping back into the chair, and said, "Thank you. M'shai, if there is any possible way you could put me in touch with anyone else who can use magic, I would be forever grateful. It is a matter of life and death."

She began to explain her talent of Dreaming, and of the nightmare she had received. "That's why I asked if you were a Dreamer, Sora, when you said you'd seen me in a vision. It sounds like your ability must be of a similar nature, but different, somehow."

Sora stretched carelessly, almost tipping the chair over before he caught his balance, and said, "Hey, no problem. I appreciate hearing about that, gives me a little more insight into what's goin' on in my head. I'd thought it was some kind of curse. I've seen things... well, let's just say that they're things I wouldn't wish on anyone else."

M'shai looked into Jamie's face, and, apparently liking what he had seen, asked her quietly, "Could we speak in private for a moment?"

Rising, Jamie said, "Sure. Come with me."

She took him out of the family room, heading down the hall a short way to prevent anyone from overhearing, and turned to him, asking, "Okay, what was so important that you couldn't say it in front of the others?"

M'shai took a deep breath, and she noticed that his hand trembled for a moment before he was able to still it. "My people walk many paths. This must be understood before the rest can be revealed. Some of us travel the Tellurian, wandering until the end of our days like lost souls. Some walk the Umbra, seeking the spirits that dwell there, and the knowledge they keep. A few of us even have the talent to stride the paths of the Dead. Do you understand so far?"

Jamie nodded, saying, "I'm with you so far. What's so secretive about this?"

M'shai sighed and looked at the ground between them, finally revealing, "My own calling is into the Deep Umbra, the world of dreams. I have spent many moons striding from one dream to another, searching for the grain of truth concealed by their illusory natures. And yet, I have never seen so much as an inkling of the catastrophe you speak of."

Jamie's eyes widened, and she asked, "Do you think that I'm... insane? That I'm just making all this up?"

He bestowed a grave, solemn smile on her as he shook his head. "No... the scent, for lack of a better term, of the Deep Umbra lies on your soul much as it does on mine. There is something about you that leads me to believe that you see the truth. I must know more about this invasion you speak of. Tell me, has your research shown any ways to improve the efficacy of the Dreaming?"

Jamie hesitated before answering, wondering exactly how far she should trust him. Then, with a mental shrug, she figured, 'why not? I've told him plenty so far'. Picking her words carefully, she explained, "It has been... suggested that powdered mescaline would allow me to enter a trance that would allow me to meet with a 'contact', a spirit of some sort, I would guess, who would 'guide my mind'. That's the only thing I've been able to discover so far."

M'shai placed a hand to his smooth chin, contemplating that. "Hmm... I've never tried it myself, but some of my people live amongst the Natives of this continent. I believe they have used it for various purposes. It sounds feasible enough. Normally, I would caution you against this, but I believe there is little choice."

His voice cracked for a moment, and he coughed softly, trying to regain his calm. "Jamie, I would bargain with you. If you take this drug, and tell me what it is that you see when the trance ends, I shall go to any lengths needed to bring my Tribe's contacts to bear on your... little problem."

He offered her a smile, taking her hand in his, and added, "It is up to you, of course, but I believe we may both carry the keys to this coming conflict. Wouldn't we be lax in our responsibilities if we did not make use of them?"

She stared at him for a moment, but could see no reason not to accept his bargain. Placing her other hand on his shoulder, she said, "Done. You'll have to give me some way to contact you, though. I'm guessing you wouldn't want to stick around, and I have no idea how long I'll be in the trance. I'll want to wait for a couple of days, anyway, and finish a few projects I had been working on."

M'shai reached into one of the pockets sewn into his tunic, pulling out a pad and pen, and quickly scrawled a contact address down. He tore it off and handed the paper to her, saying, "Do not put the details in your message. Simply say that you have the 'goods' for me, and I'll come as quickly as I can."

Jamie chuckled as she pocketed the paper, asking, "Don't trust the Network's security, eh? In this case, I really can't blame you. As soon as I have anything for you, I'll let you know. Just, uh, don't drop by during the day. I... tend to sleep in kind of late. Night time's a lot better."

M'shai laughed and said, "Don't worry, Sora's told me some tales of your people. You have to understand, he really looked up to Kai's clan, and from what I've heard, that's not an undeserved respect. I do hope you get the chance to meet with them sometime."

They returned to the conference room, chatting about lighter matters, and when he heard them enter, Sora rose to his feet. "Hey, 'Shai! Time to get going. de Silva just messaged me, he wants to find out what we've learned, and he wants it yesterdary."

M'shai shook Jamie's hand, then clasped hands with the other three Gargoyles, telling them, "We shall remain in the area for a few days. Jamie can contact me if our aid should prove necessary. May the winds of change blow swiftly at your backs!"

Sora shot him a glance and said, "She can?" before he bowed to them, simply saying, "Good luck to you all."

After they left the room, Trent pulled a remote out of the pocket of his coat, putting a view of the security cameras onto the wall-mounted display with a grin. As he and Elayne watched them leave, arms around each others' shoulders, Jamie turned to Branson and said, "I didn't get a chance to tell you earlier, but I've got quite the story for you. You're not going to believe it!"

----The End----