Stuff I do to Stay Sane!

A day in the life of Jim MachDhai: Part One
The chain link fence rattled in protest as he threw his weight against it, grasping the top bar. He narrowly avoided the barbed wire strung across the top, and with one unceremonious heave he tossed himself up and over. He hit the asphalt hard, letting out an annoyed curse as he combat rolled through a puddle of old kitchen grease and a variety of other nasty substances.

He pushed off his knee, bursting into an all-out run, barely leaping over a terrified homeless man kneeling in the alley, screaming and cowering in a puddle of his own urine. Irritated more then anything, Jim muttered and complained under his breath as he ran, not daring to look back, even as he heard the fence rend and break, or the sickening thud of the bum’s body crushing against the alley wall.

An enraged, inhuman, wolf-like howl followed him, drowning out the concerned yells of the young Tradition mages he had been working with. What had been intended to be a simple babysitting run while the inexperienced punks worked Ritual magic’s with a moldy old Hermetic mage had gone to hell in a hand basket when they summoned the wrong spirit. And not only one, but three of the damn things.

The alley gave way to a busy street, crowded and well lit…exactly what he didn’t want. Angry yells as he pushed an overly wide path through the crowd turned to frightened screams as the beasts came hot on his heels.

Thinking quickly, he skidded to a halt in the middle of the street, barely dodging traffic as it tore past in either direction. He spun about and dropped to a knee, implementing his plan. He was well versed in the dangers of Spontaneous Casting, but when funky disfigured Werewolves summoned from the Near-Umbra were hungry for your blood, you did what you had to do to walk out of it.

The lead of the three creatures paid the surrounding traffic no mind, leaping at him with a victorious snarl. Jim fast-cast his spell, forcing an invisible wall of hardened air to form between himself and the monster. Over eager for the kill, committed to the attack, the beast crashed into the wall hard, fangs breaking, blood bursting from it’s nose and lips…and bounced straight back, and into the grill of a passing garbage truck, which imploded from the sudden impact, the heavy vehicle killing the thing. The driver panicked and swerved, crashing head on into a building, the rapidly dispersing crowds of pedestrians barely getting clear of the vehicle. More vehicles then smashed into the garbage truck, a nasty pile up in the making.

He was on the move again immediately, forcing through a wave of vertigo and pain, barely avoiding the traffic around him. Blood ran freely from the scar under his eye patch, and his vision blurred and swam as the Backlash tried to catch up to him. Mental exhaustion swept over him as he forced the Paradox effects to hold off for now, and he collapsed onto the sidewalk.

Everything was happening so fast that the Sleepers on this side of the street were just realizing what was going on around them. Panic and fear tore through the crowd instantly. Prone and momentarily confused, Jim was quickly trampled under foot kicked and stomped by the fleeing crowds. He kicked his way free as the crowds began to disperse, scrambling to his feet and was off at a run again as pain wracked his body with the first few steps. The sounds of screeching tires and crumpling metal followed him into the alley, as the other two creatures charged across the street, urged on by the death of one of their own.

They ignored all others over their chosen prey, and were gaining quickly. Another fence blocked his path, slowing for but a few brief seconds as he threw himself over it. The barbed wire bit deeply into his flesh this time, tearing freely bleeding furrows through his left wrist.
He was getting tired of running. Both physically and for the fact that he was starting to get extremely pissed off. At the end of the alley, he could see a black SUV parked, and even as he barreled towards it through the darkness, four men in black suits and sunglasses were getting out, all moving with slow confidence. He yelled in anger, leaping up, planting a foot onto a garbage can, leapt again onto a closed dumpster, leapt again, and barely catching hold of a ladder that ended ten feet from the ground. His arms and wrists wrenched painfully, and he smashed awkwardly into the wall, banging his right ankle hard.

The Technocrats attention was piqued by the yelling, and they moved quickly into the alley, guns drawn. Knowing his luck, their sunglasses let them see in the dark…simple spell, but of course they were too pigheaded to see the magic involved. The two remaining creatures didn’t need any fancy acrobatics to follow Jim, as they simply leapt up the face of the building, claws digging into the brick wall and started climbing that way.

Four stories later and Jim hauled himself onto the roof, just as the Technocrats finally realized what was going on. They began firing indiscriminately at anything moving on the wall, shattering windows as they fired wildly at the two beasts. Both creatures ignored them, hot on Jim’s heels.

He rolled off the raised wall at the top of the building, crushing gravel underneath him as he came up on a knee, forcing reality to bend to his Will yet again, once more bleeding off precious Quintessence and pure will to snap his next spell into being. A bright, fiery red light came into existence, hovering in the air in front of him, the size of a softball. And he was off again at a run, casting about the roof top for his next move. He skidded to a stop at a fire exit on the roof, trying to door and finding it locked. Cursing in annoyance, he started kicking it hard, denting the rusty old metal door inwards, but it wasn’t showing any signs of giving any time soon.

The first of the two creatures reached the roof, pulling itself up over the edge. It was sent reeling back as the fireball crashed into its twisted face, bursting in a bright flash of flame and sending the thing flying back, where it crashed first into the wall of the next building, then plummeted down towards the ground, howling in pain and rage as it fell. The Technocrats let it up as it came down, and the thing was dead by the time it hit the ground.

The second hauled itself up with a burst of incredible speed, hurling up into the air ten feet easily before crashing to the roof with a resounding thud. It cast its gaze about the vacant expanse in brief confusion as there was no signs of Jim, but then it caught his sent and was on the hunt once more. He’d leapt the gap to the next building, executing a perfect combat roll that smashed him hard into a chimney. He could distantly feel the Backlash of his spells hounding at his heels, eager for him to drop his guard so it could strike, but he was more worried about the last of the three monsters chasing him as it leapt into the air, landing some twenty feet ahead of him on the same roof. It spun as it skidded across the loose gravel, snarling and snapping at the air with its extended maw. He took one look at the thing and leapt into the alley between these two four story structures.

Another angry yell as he crashed through a window into a hallway one floor down, and he was running yet again, straight for an open elevator shaft. The building was obviously abandoned now that he was inside, no doors in the doorways, no lights, just garbage and refuse from squatters. The wall exploded behind him as the beast crashed through where the window had been, sending bits of brick and drywall and a great cloud of dust into the hall.
By the time that cleared and the thing had started moving again, all it could hear was the sound of the elevator cables slapping and whining as Jim rode them down, leaving nasty burns along his hands as he crashed through the roof of the beaten old elevator on the first floor. He lucked out, rolling through the open elevator doors and into the lobby, where his luck began to run out.

Two more Technocrats were already here, a man and a woman, their sci-fi looking pistols leveled square at Jim’s chest as he came to a sudden stop, eyeing the two with a slightly raised eyebrow. By then, he looked…well, like shit. Partly dried blood caked the left side of his face from the scar there. His clothes were torn and dirty, his hands dripping blood from the cuts and burns. The right thigh of his jeans was turning red from a deep cut there…where he got it from, he couldn’t remember now. Not to mention asphalt burns from rolling around so much.

The woman was about to speak, but just as she opened her mouth, the elevator exploded in a gust of dust and debris, a resounding bang sounding out as the creature followed Jim down. He took his chance, leaping forwards past the two Techies, wrestling the pistol out of the man’s hand as he passed. He landed hard on his side, sliding along the dusty, grimy floor towards the door, bringing the pistol to bear into the elevator shaft. The clip was emptied before he came to a stop, twenty one rounds of some fancy ammo type or another unloaded into the swirling cloud of dust and shadows in a matter of seconds. The female Techie spun as if to fire at him, but she was tossed aside as the beast erupted from the elevator, lopping after Jim as he burst out the front door, the thing leaving a trail of blood now from all the holes he’d plugged into it.

Out onto the street again, luckily this time the area was a bit quieter, removed from the main routes like that previous road. The Agents in the alley next to the building were just coming out, looking in confusion at Jim as he tore across the street. The beast blew out the front doors as it followed, crumpling the SUV parked in front of the building as it threw its shoulder into the vehicle. The four started firing, but succeeded at little asides from detonating their own vehicle, rupturing the gas tank as the beast leapt clear, following Jim into the next alley.

Slowed by the SUV, by the time it reached the alley Jim was ready for it. One last spell to finish the bugger off. It came straight for him, barreling down the length of the narrow alley, its shoulders brushing the walls on either side as it came at him. He gestured swiftly through the air, his hand tracing the outline of a spear, where he’d already forced dirt and stone to rise up with his Forces abilities. The thing began to glow with a brilliant blue light as he infused it with Prime energies, bleeding away the last of his so hard-gained Quintessence. A pounding migraine was already assaulting his mind, but he gritted his teeth, locking it away with all his other pain and grievances. Taking hold of the shaft of the strange weapon, he reeled back and hurled, sending it shooting forwards with impossible speed.

Another SUV slammed on the breaks, tires screeching as it came to a stop in front of the alley the two had disappeared into. The four Techies inside had just opened their doors when the last of the beasts came flying back out of the alley, grinding to a stop in front of the driver, his foot hovering mere inches above it’s open, slack jaws, a pile of dirt and garbage clattering to the ground and into a large, smoking hole in it’s chest.

By the time they moved into the alley, Jim had pulled his vanishing act. He ran another twelve blocks before finding refuge in a subway station, locking himself away in a toilet stall to meditate and heal. Nights like this…he really hated his job. He linked up with the young Traditions four hours later, still looking like hell, reeking of sweat, blood, and garbage.

He’d cleaned up a bit in the subway washroom, but a few tendrils of fresh blood were still leaking out from under his eye patch and his various half-healed wounds. He sent the lot of them off to another of the elder Tradition Mages. As a souvenir, the eldest of the group even got a Techie pistol, its internal tracking device already fried of course.

A day in the life of Jim MachDhai: Part Two

Needless to say, he was no diplomat. Sure, he could talk his way out of trouble from time to time, he’d even managed to make some powerful creatures back down in the past, but he definitely wasn’t here for his speech craft. More likely, these Tradition dupes just had him along for intimidation quality…and to get them out if things went sour.

It’d been a week since his last incident, most of which had been spent recovering. His abilities were enough that he was back to his usual self by now…bitter, irritable, and determined. Made more so when he was on edge, and he was on edge when he was in a strip club, part of a meeting with Technocrats. He came packing heat this time, or well…a knife. A silver Klaive, earned after killing a Garou in personal combat out in the Rockies a few years back.

The Tradition mages he was working with were chatting with two Agents…one of whom he recognized from last week. The female Agent, dressed pretty much exactly the same, but not wearing her sunglasses this time. Why she had agreed to meeting here, he’d never understand. He stood next to the booth rather then sitting, leaning against the space between this booth and the next, and spent most of his time staring at his boots, fidgeting nervously from time to time.

Simply put, he was uncomfortable around women. It was, by far, one of the only things that could unsettle him. And women, that were stripping…he prided himself on his concentration and focus. But, like most guys, that pretty much went out the window around women if he let his guard down. He’d spent years doing his best to kill off his emotions…probably why he seemed like such a bitter man.

One of the waitresses came by, stopping at the table long enough to take their orders. Dry martini for the female Agent, rye and coke for her partner. Hermetic got a glass of wine, the Celestial Chorus the same. The other two Tradition mages ordered beer. The waitress turned to him next, leaning against the same cushions as he, strategically hunched to show off her cleavage, all smiles and fake warmth. “And what about you, handsome? I’m betting you’re a beer drinker.”

He smirked coldly, and raised his head to look her in the eye, careful to keep his gaze out of her cleavage. He knew the reaction he’d get before he raised his head, but this way word would spread fast and the employees would stay out of his way. The waitress actively recoiled, stepping back from him, paling visibly as she saw the scar and the shallow gray of his good eye. What had seemed a cold smirk was actually supposed to be a smile, which slipped a bit as he resumed his previous stance, gaze lowered, face at least partly hidden from casual view. “Coffee, please. Unless you happen to have tea?”

The waitress stammered a reply that he didn’t quite catch, and headed off at a bit of a rush, glancing back at him once before disappearing into the crowded main portion of the room. He smirked this time, a true cold smirk and shook his head slightly, glancing briefly at the table behind him and the ongoing meeting, catching the female Agent’s calculating gaze for a moment before she turned back to the conversation.

What was her problem? Probably pissed off that he’d dealt with that incident the other night and left her team holding the bag for clean up. Not to mention humiliating them, and stealing one of their fancy pistols for that matter. Plus, if they had a record on him, she’d probably have read it by now. It was likely fairly long, for that matter…he’d been stepping on Technocrat toes for years.

He began tapping his foot impatiently, wondering how long this meeting would take. He wasn’t even sure what this was all about, and couldn’t even eavesdrop, as the Hermetic had erected a simple spell that falsified their entire conversation. Bloody Traditions knew all the tricks, didn’t they?

Eventually, their drinks returned, a different waitress though, who handed him a steaming cup of black coffee, and he offered a rather polite thanks. She was obviously uncomfortable around him, and seemed confused at how nice he seemed. She handed out the other drinks and headed off back into the crowd, glancing back at him once or twice as he quietly sipped his coffee, one foot tapping against the floor impatiently.

Half an hour past, his now empty coffee cup sitting on their table. He scanned the crowded bar carefully and periodically, careful not to let his gaze linger on the exotic dancers or scantily clad waitresses. Another hour passed, and he’d had a second cup of coffee. The meeting was still going on, although they didn’t seem to be discussing business anymore. Honestly, it seemed to him the four Tradition mages were all chatting up the female Agent, her male counter part staring with obvious boredom towards the dancers.

So bloody unprofessional. Last he checked, these two groups had been at war for what…a millennium? And these four were all drooling over their enemy’s cleavage in a freaking strip club. He cast a glance around the club again, his eye narrowing intently as his gaze landed on a lone woman who obviously didn’t work there, eyeing him up from across the room. Pale, mid twenties, multi-colored hair, what he could only assume was stylish clubbing clothes.

He concentrated briefly, reaching out with his arcane senses, studying her as the woman began to walk towards him. No pulse, body temperature carefully regulated by some unknown process. Enhanced musculature structure, extended canines. No brainer. He was being checked out by a Vampire. She certainly had that grace and physical charm that drew in most men, and she definitely was easy on the eyes. Plus, as she drew closer, there was an undeniable attraction towards her. That was easily written off as one of their many tricks. He muttered under his breath, glancing at the table behind him again, “Fool me once, shame on you.”

The female Agent shot him a quizzical look, having missed what he had said, but was drawn back into the conversation. He looked towards the approaching Vampire, watching her carefully as she came to a stop in front of him, arms crossed under her breasts, her head tilted a bit to the side as she looked him over. “You don’t seem to be enjoying the…”

“I don’t even look at women with a pulse, Miss.”

She paused, looking him over again, then smiled in amusement, her head tilting to the other side now, leaning back a bit. “Well you really are an interesting one. I think I’ve heard of you.”

“Probably have. If it was bad, then it was all true.” He carefully accepted his third cup of coffee from the waitress, thanking her politely yet again. It was the same woman that had brought the first two. She actually seemed to be getting comfortable around him.

“I figured from what I’ve heard, that you’d be a drinker. Most guys are after their lives are destroyed, and all their friends are Embraced. I’ve heard all sorts of interesting things over the years.” She reached out, brushing her fingers over the sleeve of his jacket, tracing a line of claw slashes through the leather.

He shifted enough to pull away from her touch, scanning across the crowd again, carefully studying for others of her kind. She had certainly struck a nerve there, the event that had started him on this life. “What do you want?”

She rose an eyebrow, as if offended by his aggressive nature, then looked him over again, licking her teeth. “You really aren’t afraid of me, are you?”

That just got a bemused chuckle out of him. He rolled his eye and resumed studying the crowd. Most Vampires were smart enough to clear out after realizing their cover was blown, else risk threatening the Masquerade. But this one insisted on striking up a conversation…which probably meant there was something else going on here.

He reached out with his arcane senses again, reading the crowd, scanning through everyone present. This was a much more concerted effort, and it caught the attention of the group at the table behind him, the conversation coming to an end rather abruptly as they all looked to him. Thinking outside the box, he began searching for weapons, finding concentrations of metal on four men in the crowd, which he easily identified as guns.

He let out a quiet sigh, closing his eye briefly and rubbing his temple as a headache began to form. “Look lady…nothing scares me these days. Try walking in my shoes some time. You say you’ve heard of me, you think I’d have any fear left? Would I have made it this long?”

She wasn’t even aware what he was doing. Another great work of concentration, and he had caused all four firing pins to snap in the bolts of the weapons, rendering them all useless. If they were with her and they caused trouble, she’d be pissed to find out they couldn’t even fire. Of course, pulling it off silently, without his usual dramatic gestures, he felt sick to his stomach and stubbornly downed the last of his coffee, setting the cup aside with the others before making a pointed gesture towards the bar for one more.

“I suppose you wouldn’t. It’s all too bad really…I would love for you to come work for me, you know. It’s so hard to find good help these days. But..” She had a victorious gleam in her eyes, knowing her men had reached their positions and were ready to strike.

A cold smirk of a response, coupled with a dangerous gleam in his eye, he reached out to brush a bit of hair from her face, an odd move for him. A definite sign that he felt calm and secure. “Might not want to do that. Your four boy’s guns aren’t going to work. I saw to that while we were talking.”

That certainly rattled her cage, glowering at him sourly as she took a half step back, glancing towards her Ghouls. They were in place, and none the wiser that their weapons wouldn’t work. She glared at him again, and he continued to watch her in a rather nonchalant manner, waiting her next move. With her plan possibly disarmed, and obviously figured out, with success no longer a certainty, she didn’t have the will to try anymore. Finally, with a full lipped pout, she stalked off, waving her hand over her head to signal her Ghouls, which all fell in behind her and followed outside.

That done, he resumed his bored lounging, waiting for this to end. It was only a few minutes later that the female Agent was standing next to him, her glasses tucked into her pocket, arms folded across her chest. “You are MachDhai, yes?” He gave a faint nod, not looking at her, so she continued. “You recover quickly, don’t you? Last I saw of you, you looked half dead at beast. How did you escape, anyways? We had a seven block radius contained.”

This time all she got was a shrug, as he showed no signs of wanting to talk to her. Which was odd, really, in light of a specially formulated pheromone she was wearing that had worked oh so well on the other four. She stepped a bit closer to him, hiding it by leaning in to look at his jacket. “Surgical grade stitching. Where did you study? And what was it you’ve been doing over here, anyways? Our sensors detected a lot of Reality Deviance.”

He sighed quietly, rubbing at his temple for a moment. Too many women trying to get him to drop his guard, trying to use their feminine wiles to worm their way through his defenses. “A Vampire was planning on stirring up this little meeting. I sent her on her way discreetly.” He scooped up his cup again, handing it off to the waitress in exchange for a fresh full one, and she was on her way once more. She had written him off as harmless, despite what her coworker had said.

The Agent nodded slightly, although there was a somewhat quizzical look about her, as if something confused her. She stepped past him, her perfume leaving a flowery trail in her wake, at which he shook his head slightly and snorted in apparent distaste. “You wear too much of that perfume of yours. You smell like a high schooler on prom night, putting it on by the bottle for his first date.”

That caused a bit of a reaction, as she cast him an insulted glare. “Your friends seem to like it.”

“They aren’t my friends, and that’s because they’re a bunch of testosterone driven, weak willed slobs. Can’t take their eyes off your cleavage, can they? As little of it as there is, anyways.”

Her glare sharpened angrily, arms folded across her chest, back arched slightly to draw attention to her chest. “What, my breasts aren’t big enough for you? You probably prefer empty headed blond bimbos, don’t you?”

He snorted in amusement at that, shaking his head slightly and glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “I’m sure you’re breasts are magnificent, I simply meant that you are wearing a modest outfit. And, I will have you know that I do not prefer any type of woman. I’ve fully withdrawn from such pointless temptations. I don’t find any women particularly attractive.”

“So…what…I take it it’s been a while since you’ve last had sex then? You’re obviously uncomfortable in here. I’ve been noticing that you haven’t looked at any of the dancers since you got here, have you?”

He smiled slightly, shrugging a bit at that. “Never have, never will. And no, I have not been gawking and ogling like the rest of these twits.” She was up to something, obviously, to be standing here this long chatting with him. And so he began to delicately probe with his other senses, searching for a hint of what she was up to. This took more effort though, as he had to prevent his efforts from being detected. Soon enough he had realized two things. One, the perfume she was wearing did more then smell nice. And two, the sunglasses, tucked into her pocket, had a camera built into them, and were recording.

“I get the feeling you have no social life, do you? Most of your kind try to blend into society, making it that much harder for us to find you. But you…don’t, do you? So how is it we’ve never found you?”

His response was easy enough. He reached out, plucking her sunglasses from the breast pocket of her jacket, looking them over briefly, even flicking them open to peer through them. She reached for them once, but he lifted them higher, using his height advantage. And then he crushed them in his fist, squeezing them as hard as he could, grinding the glasses in his hand until it was broken and busted into many pieces, which he then dropped into his coffee cup. “You’re lucky you didn’t have a camera in your eye or something. That could have been unpleasant.”

She narrowed her eyes angrily, glancing at the coffee cup, then to him again. “That was expensive, just so you know, and will likely come out of my pay.” He chuckled quietly, and she rubbed her temple in frustration now. “One of these days, I will get you. That’s a promise.”

“Sorry, Agent. You’re not my type. Like I said, I stay away from women. My life is easier with the fewer women that are in it. Now, is this meeting done? Can I take my boys home and clear their heads?” He glanced at the group he had arrived with. They were all casting sullen looks his way, her partner was finishing his drink and excusing himself from the table.

“Come on, Johnson. We’re done here.” She pointed at Jim, poking him squarely in the chest before she started walking away, looking back at him as she headed away. “I’ll see you again soon, don’t you worry. And the next time, you won’t be getting away. You’re too dangerous. Just be lucky my boss doesn’t want to do any paperwork tonight, else I’d be bringing you in.”

“If you’re done talking, I have other things to do. I wouldn’t mind sleeping for once this week, and the sooner I get these boys home, the sooner that happens.” He turned away, leaning in now to talk to the Mages he had arrived with, the four of whom were slowly shaking off the effects of her perfume. He’d have plenty of damage control to do after tonight, evacuating safe houses, relocating libraries and caches.

A day in the life of Jim MachDhai: Part Zero

A younger Jim, twenty one years old and full of life, complete with two eyes and a friendly smile, stood in the University of Calgary library, hands thrust in the pockets of his old bomber jacket. He was proud of this particular thrift store find. The coat was in mint condition, perfectly worn in, but a bit big for the skinny med-student. He stood with six other teenagers and young adults, talking with an old professor.

“I know you’re all rather young, and very inexperienced, but the situation is getting out of hand.” The old man was addressing the group, leaning heavily on a table upon which various arcane tombs and a dizzying array of oddities rested. “A vampire by the name of Ivan Vontruss has decided that Calgary is going to be his new domain. He’s got a small army of freshly Embraced street trash, and we estimate he has been on the prowl since the early 1800’s. Nothing amazing, but he’s got a bit of experience under his belt.”

The group shifted on their feet uncertainly. Jim for one didn’t really know why he was there. Sure, he knew the others pretty well from the past few years, practicing with them from time to time, but he had done his best to stay out of all this, wanting just a normal life, not this supernatural adventure that had been thrust upon him.

He glanced at the others, envying them for a moment for their strength and bravery. Tyler and Tanya were both Order of Hermes, one with an expensive looking cane, the other with a stereotypically gnarled staff, while Jake and Jeremy were Akashic Brotherhood. It showed in their wiry builds and confident stance, both with pistols at their hips and viciously curved knives. Jessica was a Dream Speaker, and looked like a hippy with dreadlocked hair and various foci twined in her silken black locks, while Derrick was a Celestial Chorus, looking every part the priest in training that he was…save for the sword on his back. The guy creeped him out sometimes. And then there was Jim. He was pretty sure he had a pocket knife on him somewhere.

“Normally, the Vampires deal with their own problems. But, for some reason, they’re in no situation to curb this one right now. The local Packs normally leap at the chance for a good fight, but something has them distracted too. And our beloved Technocracy, despite their self-proclaimed duty to protect man kind from us wicked and horrible Reality Deviants, has too much red tape to cut through to do more then send an Agent to investigate. So it falls to us to fill the void for now. To slow Mr. Vontruss’ bid for power for a few days until the Clans can move in.”

And that was when the old man’s speech ended. The windows were shattered, a few stray gun shots lancing through the poorly lit room. Books exploded, and the gathered Mages yelled in surprise, ducking low to the ground.

The old man wasn’t so lucky. His body fell limply to the floor, leaving a slowly growing wet red pool, a small hole in the back of his head hinting at a much larger one where his face had been. Tyler was yelling in pain, one hand pressed to a wound in his shoulder. And then they could hear the doors crashing open, shattered glass crunching as people came in the windows, and all hell broke loose in the small library.

A dozen men came bursting onto the scene, most looking like regular joe-blow gang bangers, sporting pistols and a shotgun and charging in with insane bravado. Jake and Jeremy gave each other an eager smirk and leapt to their feet, firing blindly into the fray. Jake vanished in a spray of buckshot, body falling limply to the floor, while Jeremy was tackled to the ground by two of the attackers.

Tanya fell back towards the doors behind Jim, staggering through the fray, planning on buying some time to work a spell, while Jessica dropped to her knees, staring down at Jake’s remains and rocking slowly back and forth, in shock from the horrors around her. Derrick managed to get his sword in hand and leap into the fray, trying to free Jeremy, but he was shot twice and fell wounded.

It had only been a matter of seconds, maybe ten, twenty at most…and everyone was down except Jim and Tanya. He was terrified, cowering behind a thick table, when everything seemed to go quiet. He could hear Jessica’s terrified whimpering, and Tanya gasping for breath, triumphant chuckles and vulgar comments around the room. It was already over. And then it got worse…some one was sarcastically shushing Jessica, and as he peered carefully around the corner of his table, he saw a man with vicious fangs slowly easing the broken young woman to her feet, brushing her hair back form her shoulder.

Tanya was held in the air by her neck, struggling for breath while another vampire gazed up at her appraisingly, and Jeremy was in a similar situation, held down and unconscious, as a female vampire was getting ready to Embrace him as well. The others were dead. And he was all that left between his three friends and being Turned, becoming the play things of these vile bastards. And he was terrified, tears welling up in his eyes as he tried to silently crawl towards the back door, heart pounding painfully, trying not to start crying in fear and self loathing. He was going to leave them and escape. He was going to sacrifice them so he could get out alive…he never wanted any of this! He wanted to be a doctor, and work in Africa, to help people there who couldn’t help themselves. He was a good person, and didn’t deserve to die…and he was a hypocrite, and he knew it.

He was approaching that door when someone spotted him. They yelled, Tanya screamed for help. Jessica was already gone, willingly turning her head for her captor to feed, her whimpering already over. Jim struggled to his feet, casting a terrified glance back towards them all as he took a hesitant step towards the door. Tanya kicked her captor as hard as she could, dropping free, gasping for air and reaching for Jim, a pleading, horrified, accusing look in her eyes as she realized he was going to willingly abandon her.

A shot was fired, searing pain tore through his shoulder, and then the female vampire that had been about to feed of Jeremy was leaping for Jim, letting out a triumphant yell. And everything seemed to freeze again, as his thoughts, briefly, coalesced into focus, a memory flashing through his mind with searing clarity…

A young man, an American soldier in the World War 2, stood in a burnt out barn in northern France mere days after D-Day. His squad had been on patrol through here, mopping up any Nazi stragglers when they found a farm house with three dead bodies inside, an elderly couple and a young woman, likely their niece. All three’s throats had been torn out. The three members of the squad in the house heard shots and a terrified scream from the barn, a scream that had cut out all too sharply.

They approached cautiously, and they could see their Sergeant laying face down in the dirt near the entrance of the barn, his head twisted clean around, his body still spasming slightly with the final throws of his death. They moved closer, one man darting forwards to flank the ruined doorway of the barn…they heard it too late to stop him, the click-clack of a German rifle, a shot fired, and the soldier went down in a spray of blood, the bullet tearing through his heart.

The last two rushed forwards, he was breathing heavily, diving into the dark ruins, diving behind cover so his eyes could adjust. His partner leapt in an open hole in the wall, and was firing madly at something that he couldn’t see yet. He forced himself to his feet in time to see an SS Officer leap from the shadows upon his partner with inhuman speed, bringing his fists down on the soldier in an overhead slam. The man’s helmet crumbled, neck snapped and drove down into his shoulders, and then the Nazi was turning towards him. And he just held a hand up towards it, focusing his Will, bending Reality to his needs. The SS Officer leapt at him next, but froze in mid-air, eyes widening in shock and anger…a look that quickly changed to fear and pain. All the man’s friction, the energy built as he struggled against his invisible bonds, began to grow and intensify, focusing inside his chest. The more he struggled, the faster it built up, and then there was smoke pouring from his mouth and nose, his ears, as the man’s insides began to burn, the fire spreading too fast for a normal person’s body. The vampire went up in a puff of ash and flame. And the soldier walked out of the barn, leaving the fire to spread, sighing heavily as he collected his fellow soldier’s dog tags…

Jim snapped into the moment again, his eyes widening in surprise as the same thing was happening to the female vampire. He had never been able to manage anything like this before. Tanya screamed for him to help her, as the vampire brought his fist down to slap her, nearly knocking the young Hermetic Mage out on the spot. The last thing she saw before she passed out was Jim’s horrified gaze sweeping around the room, looking to her one last time before he dived out the fire escape door.

The vessel slid silently past the outter planets of the Sol system, powerful engines burning brightly as it sailed through the void. Nearly two full kilometers in length, the slender ship’s hull was a patch work of repair jobs and upgrades; much of the original paint job was burnt away, it’s mass driver turrets had been scrapped and replaced with weapon systems that seemed to clash with the construction style of the rest of the vessel. It had the look of an ancient Earth battleship, rows of turrets stacked atop each other, intricate arrays of sensors and comms gear and all sorts of other gadgets.
Something that might well have once been another ship was attached low off the main vessel’s left flank by a pair of girder-frame tubes. That section was even more alien then the main ship’s weapons; a long cylinder, narrowing at the front to a near spear-like point with a sealed circular hatch. It too was lined with a variety of systems, most predominant being a series of smaller turret systems, some form of unknown energy weapon.
Deeper towards the heart of the system was the faint pop and flash of weapons fire and exploding ships; the stellar fleet was engaged in a final, desperate battle near the Earth’s orbit against an enemy they knew nothing about. A brutally eficient race of man-like beings; tall and slender, impossibly elegant and agile, described as possessing an unearthly beauty and wings like angels. The race had arrived bedecked as if from legends; tabards and armours eerily similar to ancient Earth’s crusade era. They announced themselves as Angels, sent by God to purge man from the Earth.
Many believed what they said; took it at face value. Man was being punished for turning it’s back on it’s creator. Religious wars sprouted throughout the system’s colonies and raged especially fiercly on Earth, as those with even a trace of Belief sought forgiveness from God by turning on the non believers. The war effort against the invaders was crippled. Others believed the much simpler explanation; that these aliens had been watching Man long enough to learn of it’s religions and beliefs, stylized their invading fleet accordingly, and used Man’s fear against them.
Humanity’s warriors were inexperienced but determined, giving ground grudgingly. Casualties had been high, especially in the opening days on the outter colonies and wherever they had made planet fall on Earth. Not one victory had been counted yet. Enemy casualties were low, only a handful of their ships destroyed and each only from suicide runs from the Earth fleet’s own vessels; ramming operations mostly.
“Admiral! The Desperado is sinking, Sir! The enemy is exploiting the hole in our flak cover. Hostile strike craft inbound on the Ashitaka!” A young tactical officer glanced back at the Admiral, a strong hint of desperation in her eyes. She was sweating and exhausted, struggling admirably to keep up with the constantly changing tactical data being fed to her from the fleet’s ships. The situation was grim, many of the Fleet’s icons were orange-red and a steadily growing number were flashing red and winking out, only to be replaced with the neutral grey of debris markers.
The Admiral was an old fashioned man; even now his uniform was pristine and he stood on the command deck of the Gale’s Roar, a heavy cruiser he had taken as his flag ship. Sparks reigned from a damaged consol and the room was filled with the red light of warning claxons; crew yelled status reports to sub commanders who were tasked to maintaining the ship so the Admiral could focus on the bigger picture. Damage and casualty reports, updates from the ship’s lance of strike craft. Everything was looking bad; even as he studied the main screen, enemy vessels were breaking through his lines and heading towards the unprotected Earth, eager to send fresh waves of winged, angelic soldiers to the surface.
“Send in the Rocks, Lieutenant. Aim them straight for those troop transports, maximum speed. Patch me through to their Captains.” He seemed unphazed by everything that was happening, untouchable by the horrors of their situation. On the outside, at least. Panic ate at the edges of his mind; his wife and children lived in France, and he could see it clear as day from where the Gale’s Roar sat in orbit; those troop transports would be hitting Europe and Africa mostly from this angle of approach, would rain fire and death onto his homeland if he didn’t stop them here.
The Rocks were commandered civillian transport ships, literally loaded with rocks. Thousands of metric tons of rock, their engines cranked to maximize acceleration, crude armour plates welded to their noses and forward flanks. They were like the fire ships of old; they would charge into the enemy fleet, press forwards through the enemy’s defensive fire, and plow into their hulls. Each ship had a skeleton crew of a dozen or so men and women, all knowing they were consigned to death the moment their vessels started forwards.
Once the comms officer gave him the nod, the Admiral was silent a moment longer, struggling to control his voice; it would be a brutal blow to his crew’s morale if they heard him choked up with panic now. Even still, his voice was gruff and had a forced softness to it, “Bring ruin and despair to these false gods! Make them choke on the ground they want so desperately to conquer. God speed.” The replies were equally forced, the Captains trying to sound tough and determined in their last moments as the six transports leapt forwards, bursting out of the debris cloud that was once the Earth’s primary space station and home of some four thousand souls.
Alien warships punched away at the slower, bulkier human ships. They were manueverable and fast, designed to be aesthetically pleasing even to human eyes. Everything about the aliens was strangely familiar, playing on their beliefs and religions. Yet even for how delicate they looked, the human’s mass driver cannons did little to their armoured hulls; scorching paint, superficial damage to the armour. The occasional lucky shot hit a weakened section yet nothing seemed to slow them.
The fire ships sped forwards at break neck acceleration; the crews on board struggling desperately to stay conscious against the initial G’s as the ships punched away from the Earth’s gravity. The alien transport ships opened fire immediately, energy weapons melting away the crude armour, burning into command decks and storage compartments with ease. Alien strike craft swept in to harrass them from all sides, targeting engines and the mounting points of the added armour, sending great chunks of debris hurtling into the already crowded orbit.
Of the six, only two made it through the wittling hail of weapons fire to reach their targets. One was a glancing hit, the tattered transport ship digging a vicious gouge through the flank of one enemy transport; clouds of debris and stone were tossed into space as both ships were torn open, and thousands of alien soldiers were consigned to the void. Great hunks of stone hurtled out along the dead transport’s trail, the ship spinning without direction or power, veering slowly off it’s course from it’s own momentum. The cloud of stone it left behind took a scattering of enemy strike craft with it, even the skilled alien pilots had trouble navigating through such a hazard. Both ships were dead in space, the alien warship slowly plunging into the Earth’s atmosphere to eventually burn up and crash into the African deserts far below, while the fire ship would simply hurtle out into space and likely be picked apart in the crossfire between the fleets.
The other was a clean hit, plowing straight through the enemy transport ship. The resulting explosion pushed the other transports off course, veering away from the earth to avoid the explosion and hail of deadly debris that now choked that approach vector. A momentary victory for the Earth’s fleet. The troop transports would fall back, regroup, and make another run with the next opening in the rapidly dwi ndling human fleet.
The tactical officer froze briefly, even as the comms officer was clearly arguing with someone on a channel outside of the fleet net, “Repeat call sign and identification number! … Confirmed. Admiral! We’ve got another ship inbound, it’s the Expanding Horizon!” He was clearly shaken; that ship had been thought lost in an accident with it’s experimental engine system twenty five years ago on it’s maiden flight to Alpha Centauri. It’s loss had been a crippling blow to man’s efforts of leaving the solar system.
“Sensors confirm Admiral. It’s sensor signature is registering ‘Unknown’ but it’s Friend or Foe indicator and identification signal both confirm clean.” The young Lieutenant glanced up at the Admiral, who was clearly shaken by the news.
The Comms officer spun back to his terminal, “We’re receiving a status report from the Horizon, Admiral. She’s going tactical. Forwarding their telemetry to your consol, Sir!” He hit a few more keys, and soon enough one of the smaller displays on the Admiral’s personal station changed to display a third-person view of the battle; a view from the Expanding Horizon closing rapidly on the battle. He could just barely make out the various warships engaged in the fight, traces of weapons fire burning through space between the ships.
The tactical view clearly indicated a power surge in the strange layout of the inbound ship; the tube-like section’s own engines were climbing to what would have been a critical level for the Gale’s Roar. A targeting indicator lit up on one of the enemy’s heavier ships, even as the enemy seemed to be reacting to the new vessel’s presence. The targeted ship was spinning around, a few lighter vessels turning with it to rip this newcomer apart.
A targeting lock was confirmed, the marker flashing green, and then the build up of energy was released. There was a growing light from the tube section, barely visibly at the bottom left of the Horizon’s main point of view, and then a gleaming blue light sliced through the hundreds of kilometers that still seperated it and it’s target. The beam arced and twisted to follow the evasive manuevers of the alien ship, and the Horizon’s screen zoomed in for a clearer view. The enemy ship pulsed once with energy, all it’s windows flashing like a light off a mirror, the armour melted and then the internal atmosphere seemed to catch fire instantly. It bulged and twisted, and then was gone. A pulsing wave of energy ripped out of it like a stone in a pond, the hull of the enemy vessel vanishing in the explosion and one smaller ship that had been too close was torn apart by the wave which cut clean through the small Destroyer.
The Roar’s crew was stunned to silence; both fleets suddenly stopped firing and withdrew to reform their skirmish lines. And the Horizon started charging up again, still racing towards the enemy fleet as it’s secondary weapons began charging. The Admiral couldn’t make sense of all the data; power was being diverted to the hull of the ship, not just the weapons, and he couldn’t understand why. The shuttle bay slid open and a dozen strike craft came pouring out, racing ahead of Horizon. They had the same design as the old Lancer craft employed by the fleet five years ago, but there were adaptations and upgrades that clearly landed them into a class of their own.
And most confusing was the additional vehicles that were powering up from the space between the girder-frame extensions; six additional vehicles that lifted free of the hull and powered up to speed towards the enemy fleet. Man-shapped vehicles the size of the Lancers, sporting hand held weapons and hardpoint mounted system.
The Gale’s Roars main view changed suddenly, no longer showing the momentarily stilled battle to instead show a world-weary man in the outdated fleet uniform; a utilitarian black and silver dress uniform. It had been changed ten years ago to the royal blue and white the Admiral and his crew now wore. The old uniform had been too ‘intimidating’ and had given the fleet a negative image, or so the psychologists had said.
“…so they made you an Admiral while I was away did they? Looks like you could use some help. Mind if we butt in?” The man’s smile was tired but warm; he was glad to be home, but this was not what he had been hoping to find, clearly.
The Admiral was stunned to silence, recognizing the tired face after a moment’s confusion. It had been a quarter century since he last saw that man, and time had not been kind. A brutal scar wrecked much of the Horizon captain’s face, his eye replaced by what had once been the standard cybernetic implant (something else that had been changed due to it’s ‘aggressive’ appearance), but he recognized the smile. “Henry? Jesus Christ Henry, it is you! Thank God! You’ve got a lot of explaining to do!”
“No doubt there, Derick. Still got that bottle I gave you? Should be pretty well aged by now.” There was a flash of light aboard the Horizon’s command deck, the after flash of the main gun firing again, and Henry’s stations screens showed another alien ship detonating. They had recovered from the initial shock and began rushing the Admiral’s fleet, running a screen for their troop transports, and a pained look crossed his face as the weight of the enemy’s guns tore through three of his ships in seconds, the transports breaking through towards the Earth once more.
“It’s bad, Derick…we can’t stop them on the ground…they are God’s Wrath incarnate. Even the righteous fall short in their judgement.”

“…skies are dark as more of the alien citadels come to earth. After the disastrous opening invasion, the Israeli forces are splintered and spread thin. The situation is grim indeed as speculation of the true origins of the invaders saps local morale.”
The field reporter was a middle aged man, his receding hair line hidden beneath an ill-fitting helmet. He was crouched low behind a neatly stacked sandbag wall, the camera focusing in and out as the camera man tried to duck lower into cover. Flashes of light sparked over the edge of the barrier, not-so-distant explosions and weapons fire barely drowning out death screams and panic-barked orders.
The reporter was ashen faced and tired, once-experienced eyes were haunted, filled with barely contained terror. They were positioned near one of the local command staffs, with the classically geeky looking radio operator and baby-faced officer, grizzled senior NCO and a handful of grim faced soldiers peering over the cover of the sandbag wall, and the camera suddenly swung around towards the radio operator as he started relaying a message from the fleet.
“Sir…Lieutenant? The Fleet sir…they…reinforcements inbound…?” The radio operator seemed confused, the entire statement made no sense. Asides from orbital strikes, the Fleet had no means of influencing the ground battles. Any ground forces were already deployed, what was left of the Fleets interceptor squadrons weren’t capable of atmospheric entry. Everything they had was already employed.
The young officer looked up from a tactical map display, meeting the equally confused gaze of his senior NCO and staff. A single explosion suddenly ended the confusion as the pair looked up into the dark sky and the freshly blossoming flames that marked the death of an enemy drop-citadel. Fire and debris rained down onto the battle field, marking the deaths of hundreds of enemy troops. It was the last of the enemy carriers and dozens of crafts were following behind it.
The camera followed the raining debris to the ground, taking in a panoramic view of the battlefield below. The command post was situated on a hill top, allowing the inexperienced command staff the best view of the tactical situation. With the enemy’s technological advantage, it was just as safe as anywhere else. There were no real lines in the sand; islands of human opposition were often over run by the enemy ground troops.
The ruined hulks of tanks and field positions obscured much of the horror in thick black smoke while strange alien angelic war machines moved with impunity, artillery and missiles detonating off their hulls or being detonated short of impact by pulses of light. Enemy soldiers were near as bad; anything shy of a fifty cal round couldn’t even dent their armour, and nothing short of a barrage of direct hits couldn’t put one down.
Thousands of human soldiers were fighting desperately but to no real avail. The camera zoomed in on one pocket of resistance, dozens of soldiers entrenched in shallow trenches or behind wrecked vehicles. Three enemies dropped into their midst from the air, great angelic white wings tinted grey by the dying light and smoke. Men screamed and barked orders, spun to face the threat. Fiery red cables reached out from the extended hands of the invaders.
The fight was short, their body armour was the best mankind could supply. Ablative plate, shock absorbant gel, even flack resistant fabrics. None of it meant a thing against the Invader’s monofiliament cables. Weapons and armour were cleaved as easily as flesh and bone. The soldiers aim was good, bullets hit often and well against the Invaders but to no avail. They staggered or twisted, one’s wing was ripped to a bloody stump by a lucky, and suicidal, rush of a shotgun wielding Sergeant, but within moments the dozens of soldiers were dead or scattered.
Then things changed. Just off the edge of the camera a sudden explosion of earth and dust washed out over the three Invaders. “What the hell is that?!” The officer could be heard just off screen, and the other command staff members were struggling to find an answer. The view was obscured by a cloud of dust. One of the enemy walkers exploded as a very different massive walker burst out of the cloud.
The Invaders vehicles were aesthetically pleasing; smooth angles, gleaming clean hulls and elegant movement. The new arrival was charred and blackened by orbital reentry, sharp angles and brutal. The human soldiers weren’t sure what to make of them at first; what few tanks that remained swiveled turrets towards it. Another executed a death-from-above on another Invader mech, it’s impressive weight driving the elegant construct to the earth before being engulfed in flames as it exploded.
The tanks held their fire as the junior officer started relaying commands based on information from the comms operator. In seconds the tide of the battle seemed to change. Old model drop ships, twenty five years out of date landed in the cleared spaces in the wake of the freshly arrived black mechs. The hit hard, hatches dropping open and hulking brutes came out with an unnatural agility and speed.
Man shaped and bearing over sized rifles and brutally efficient looking chain blades. They were nearly twice the height of the Invaders troops, and as the camera zoomed and focused in on the power-armour wearing soldiers a trio of Invaders leapt at them. Their monofilament cables left shallow gashes on their armour. Their chainblades cleaved straight through the enemy’s protection with ease.
The mechs duked it out on their own turf, powerful weapons lancing across the war zone. The Invader’s penchant for enemy weapons should have been a huge advantage. Direct hits superheated the armour of the new arrivals, great gouts of molten metal spilling to the ground below yet they pressed on. Their armour was thick and resistant, and had been capable of dropping through orbit unlike the Invader units that needed the strange floating Citadels.
In return massive auto cannons and clouds of micro missiles struck with such kinetic force that the angelic machines reeled and fell. Each hit did little true damage until the heavier blackened units closed in on them, crushing them under foot or hail of point blank fire. The ground battle was much more one sided; the Invaders were outnumbered by the human forces on a massive scale and the arrival of the power-armored soldiers was just the morale boost the humans needed to turn the tide.
------
Within days the last of the Invaders that had made it planet side had been rounded up. In the dying moments of the campaign, international opinion seemed to darken. Imagery of the newly arrived Colony ship and it’s forces was often seen as dark and demonic, especially compared to the obviously more beautiful Invaders. Remnants of the Invader’s fleet was chased out of system or destroyed.
The next fifty years were filled with great leaps in technology, the reclaiming of the colonies and rebuilding of the Fleet. With it’s forces decimated and government fractured, what had been a unified planet broke apart into a variety of camps. Religious beliefs skyrocketed and grew in popularity, something that had already started when the Invaders first arrived. Entire ships and squadrons abandoned the Fleet to join the various new-founded governments.
Within years of the end of the War, rebellion, terrorism and brush-fire conflicts were erupting all over Earth. Too weak to deal with every little problem, alternate solutions were needed. The outer colonies were given over to the various factions and entire populations relocated leaving the Earth depopulated and economically weakened.
But, after fifty difficult years, mankind rebuilt. The colonies stayed independent, but painstakingly penned treaties saw each colony still provided ships and manpower to the Fleet. Each maintained their own fleets as well, and there was no end of tension between the Fleet and these upstart groups. Bigger problems were crew loyalties; the Sol Government was hard pressed to find enough Captains directly loyal to them or at least the dominant religion of Earth.