RPG: Ideas for characters

I just put up the first of several rules heavy posts on Right Behind RPG. Basically, I'm putting up information needed to create a Mage character in GURPS Fourth Edition.


I currently have three player characters submitted. One more and I'll be able to start the game.

If prospective players are lacking inspiration for characters, here's a few concepts I wouldn't mind seeing as PCs, but will be set up as NPCs if I don't get them.

1) A Buck Williams analog. This can be either a mundane reporter (who unlike Buck actually files stories) with no idea that the supernatural existed until the Event, or a Union propaganda specialist with a cover identity as a reporter who is actively involved in the cover ups.
2) A charismatic religious leader, who may or may not be Awakened. This could either be a RTC nutbar a la Reverend McKinnon from the Celestial Chorus teaser, or some opposing religious leader who need not be Christian. Picture a Muslim claiming to be the 12th Imam (or merely paving the way for him), or a Buddhist claiming to be a reincarnated bodhisattva (The Dalai Lama isn't the only one). Heck, competing religious leaders is far more realistic than a proclamation of one world religion sticking because the AntiChrist said so.

I'd really like to see someone play a religious leader or two because I grew up in a decidedly non-religious household and I'm not sure I could write a religious figure convincingly. OTOH, LaJenkins are very much steeped in religious culture and they can't write religious figures convincingly so maybe I'm better off than I thought.

Right Behind RPG: Call for characters

I am ready to start working on characters for my Right Behind RPG. I've already got two PCs either complete or nearly so, and I'm looking for 2-10 more.

To the anonymous commenter who's never played in the World of Darkness, and anyone else in the same situation who wants to play: Just put together a 100 point GURPS character with up to 40 points in disadvantages (or one disadvantage worth 40 or more points) to play as a mundane who has no idea there's weird stuff in the world until a couple billion people just vanish. Hey, it gives an excuse for infodumps. 8)

WoD mages or Enlightened personnel should be built on 400 points with up to 100 points in disadvantages. I'll post some character creation notes later at Right Behind RPG. GURPS style mages, called "sorcerors" or "hedge magicians" in this game should be built on 250 points with up to 100 points in disadvantages.

I suspect that the LJ private message system is going to inadequate for actual character creation, so we can discuss the basic ideas there, but for actual character creation please use my Yahoo address: rh0adan@yahoo.com Note: If you want to use a spreadsheet to calculate point values, I have OpenOffice and can read Excel files. I've already got something I can use for the format if people want me to email it to them. Reminder, my LJ user name is inquisitiveravn.

Crossposted to Right Behind RPG.

Teaser 3: The Celestial Chorus

Ferrier, Haiti

Sister Teresa woke up in a cold sweat. The sense that something was terribly wrong would not leave her. She bolted from her bed, barely taking time to pull on a robe before exiting her room. In the hallway, she saw that her sister Singers had also gathered. She wasn't sure if she should be relieved or worried that others had sensed it. She decided to be worried.

"What is it?" asked Sister Jeanne, but nobody knew the answer. By common consent, they checked everyone else in the chapter house. Most of the nuns were not Singers, and they had not been disturbed. Pere Etien, another Singer, joined them. Once they had verified that everyone was fine, they debated what to do next. Pere Etien suggested that everyone pray for guidance.

As they prayed, Teresa got a sudden vision. "The children! Check the orphanage."

"Just the two of us," said the priest. "No reason to go charging in like a herd of elephants." The two of them rushed over to the orphanage where they split up. Teresa went to check on the girls and Pere Etien went to check on the boys. Teresa found an eerie scene, a room that should have held perhaps two dozen children held three. Her gasp woke the one of girls up.

The girl looked around woozily. Teresa realized that this was one of the older girls. Then the girl noticed the empty beds. "What's happening? Where is everyone?"

"I don't know," said Teresa, "I'm trying to discover that. Now, please, try to go back to sleep."

The girl shook her head. "I don't believe I can. Let me help look."

Teresa asked her "Who's still here?" The girl identified them as Claire and Helene, both among the older girls. She herself was Celeste.

Teresa and Celeste went looking for Pere Etien and found him confronting a scene much like that in the girls' room. Mostly empty beds, four boys, none of whom had woken. Teresa beckoned the priest out into the hall where she reported her findings. By common consent, they went to wake the custodians, who had a fit.

By the time, the custodians of the orphanage and the nuns from the chapter house got a search organized, word was starting to trickle in of other children missing. It wasn't until morning that they realized the full extent of the losses. Every child under ten was gone. So were many of the children between eleven and fifteen. The Evangelical missionaries who had set up shop in town had also vanished and promptly got blamed for the disappearances. An angry mob headed into the hills to search for them, despite the protests of the priest and the nuns.

The Singers all quietly agreed that whether or not the Evangelicals were responsible for the missing children, no one was likely to see any of them again. Whatever had woken them up in the night, had spirited away both missionaries and kids. All anyone could do was try to pick up the pieces. Eventually, it would occur to someone to look for clues in the missionaries' house.

*******************************

Chicago, IL, USA

The home of Reverend Michael McKinnon

Reverend McKinnon knelt in his bedroom praying, pleading to know why he had not been found worthy. His wife and four children had been taken by the Lord, yet he remained. Hadn't he preached the Gospel to the unbelievers? Hadn't he smote the enemies of the Lord, the creatures of the night and worshippers of technology? Why then, in the wake of the Rapture was he still on Earth, while his family and flock were in Heaven?

After several hours of praying and fasting, the Archangel Michael came to him as he often came to the reverend in moments of doubt. The angel told him that he was indeed worthy but that the Lord had a special task for him. He was to go among the unbelievers and bring them into a new church, raising an army of the faithful to oppose the Antichrist.

Of course! It made perfect sense. The children were too young to bear such a burden and his wife, too weak, which was only to be expected from a woman after all. The others from the church who remained must be others chosen for this purpose or sinners unworthy of the Rapture. He'd have to determine who was who and bring the sinners to God. He'd start on his mission as soon as he broke his fast.

********************************

Chicago, IL, USA

The People's Church

Before stepping up to the pulpit, Reverend Jebediah Whitmore took a moment to pray for guidance. Then he took his place at the front of the congregation.

"Brothers and Sisters, we are here tonight in response to the greatest tragedy the world has ever known. My wife and I share your losses. Our two beloved children vanished along with every other child under the age of ten in the world.

"Now, you are no doubt wondering what happened. So is almost everyone else in the world. And let me tell you, it's the ones who aren't wondering that have me worried. That's because the ones who aren't wondering are sure they know the answer... and I'm just as sure that they're wrong. Y'see, the ones who think they know the answer believe that what happened was the Rapture; that God gathered up all his faithful to his bosom, leaving the rest of us sinners to suffer through seven years of Tribulation.

"I don't believe it, and I have my reasons not to believe it. So let me explain it to you now, and you tell me if what I'm saying makes more sense than the Rapture."

He enumerated his reasons for disbelief one at a time finishing with a scathing rant about how he knew the people of this congregation were good, caring people and they were still on Earth while most of the congregation of a local megachurch which he described as some of the worst hypocrites he'd ever known had vanished.

Having listed his reasons for not believing that what happened was truly the Rapture, he then went on to suggest that some other entity that he identified only as the Adversary was responsible for the recent disappearances and wanted them to look like this alleged Biblical prophecy. He finished by saying "We must not be fooled by this Deceiver and we must resist its efforts to destroy us, the fate of the world is at stake!" As he wound up his sermon, he flared his aura. Most of the congregation lacked the magical awareness to recognize what he was doing, but found his words oddly compelling. Most of them.

After the service, one of the exceptions approached him. "Jeb, are you nuts?" asked a young man in a black business suit. "If you're trying to get yourself raided, I can save you some time and make a phone call."

"Zacharia, what are you doing in Chicago?" asked the reverend. "Come on, I think we'd better talk in my office."

"I came to express my sympathies in person, and update you on the rest of the family." said Zacharia, as they headed to the reverend's office. Jebadiah's wife joined them en route "Rosa lost her baby; she's taking it hard. So are Mama and Papa. On the plus side, they aren't nagging me about my failure to give them grandkids." Zach ducked the swat Jeb aimed at him.

"Don't make light of your family's troubles boy."

"Hey, it's that or have a complete breakdown. You've got a psych degree, you should know that."

"Okay, point. Maybe I'm just taking things too seriously." They entered the pastor's office, and he automatically activated the wards. Then a possible problem occurred to him. "Uh, is your employer going to have a problem with you being incommunicado?"

Zacharia looked thoughtful for a moment. "Depends on how long. Fifteen minutes, probably not. Two hours, definitely. In between, well, the longer I'm out of touch, the more likely they'll be upset."

"I'll try to keep it short, then. Before I say anything else, can you give me your word of honor that your organization didn't instigate this mess?"

"No problem. My word on it. Not only did they not instigate it, they're in a full blown panic over it. I'll tell you though, the Chorus is high on their list of suspects." Zacharia looked apologetic. "I'm glad to hear that you didn't have anything to do with it, but what about this 'pack of hypocrites' you were talking about?"

Jebadiah sighed with relief then said, "A bunch of Pre-Milennialist crazies. I know the Chorus as a whole didn't instigate this, and I don't believe that any factions within the Chorus did, but I do think that one faction and its Sleeper followers, ah, enabled it so to speak. That is they didn't actually plan this, but they set up a belief structure that made it possible." He looked straight at Zacharia, "I also don't think that your bosses took that threat nearly seriously enough even after the Shrub years. I'd hoped that man's disastrous policies would've woken them up."

Zacharia raised his hands, "Don't look at me, cuz. I tried to tell them, but I'm just a lowly minion in the Payroll department."

"Right, well, now that they've had their noses rubbed in their mistakes, I'm just gonna have to try to explain the problem to them. I think you'd better make that phone call, but I've gotta go on a little shopping trip first," said Jebadiah.

"What? You really are nuts." Zacharia looked at his cousin's wife. "Jess, did you know he was gonna do this?"

Jess said, "Yep. We argued about it for the last two hours before the service."

The argument continued for several more minutes.

Crossposted to Right Behind RPG

Lead Thoughts and Lost Horizons, Part 2

"This will cost her her life you know," Big Nose stared hard through him.

"It's the truth."

"Then why did you desert?"

"I couldn't take it any more."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"I don't have much of a choice."

The door behind Big Nose opened. "Okay, Karl, I've seen enough."

It took a moment for Rob to focus. A new suit stood in the doorway. He carried himself with authority. Spook, probably. Former Ranger by the looks of it.

Big Nose nodded once. He picked up the DVD player and walked out of the room.

New Guy crossed the room and extended a hand. "Would you prefer your old name or your new?"

He stared at the hand in confusion. "I prefer Rob."

"Then come with me, Rob. We have a lot to talk about."

"How's...how's Dawn?"

"She's fine. For the record, I'm very sorry we had to do that to you. Now come on, up with you."

"Why was she crying?"

"She had just been told you might be executed for treason."

"Oh."

"Come on, then. Get up."

Rob took the offered hand and numbly followed New Guy out of the interrogation room. They walked down a long, white hall, then another, then a third, then took an elevator up several floors. Another hallway. A closed door. New Guy opened it. A locker room.

"There's a fresh set of fatigues. Clean up. Someone will bring you to my office when you're done. By the way, I'm Special Agent Smith."

"Of course you are."

Smith snorted. "I get that a lot."

Rob closed the door, peeled the gritty clothes he'd been wearing during his captivity off, stepped in to a shower stall and turned the water on. He stood in the flow and stared at the wall for a long time, dazed, on the verge of tears. He'd gotten sloppy, let someone in. Now he was caught and she was a knife at his throat.

No more. He'd get out of this somehow. He could run.

Newfound determination filled him. He cleaned up quickly, found the fresh clothing, and walked out of the locker room.

Hot One was waiting for him. She'd traded the tight skirt and fuck me pumps for a conservative pant suit that showed no cleavage. "Rob," she said, "Special Agent Smith wanted me to escort you. I should tell you that I'm Agent Cline."

"Um, hi."

"It's awkward, I know." She smiled, then started walking down the hall. He shrugged and followed. "By the way, she must be really special."

"Huh?"

"Dawn."

"Oh."

"I was starting to think it would take months to break you."

They took the same elevator up a few more floors and walked down another hallway to an office. "He's ready for you," Cline said, opening the door.

Rob walked through the door. Smith was seated behind a cluttered desk. He didn't even offer the pretense of rising. "Rob, please," he gestured to a chair across the desk, "Sit. Let's talk."

Rob took the offered chair. "About what?"

"I have a job for you, if you're willing to take it."

This was the last thing he'd expected. "You what?"

Smith leaned forward. "I'm sorry for all the shit we put you through, I really am. But these are desperate times and we have to do extraordinary things, up to and including working with people who a month ago we would have left to rot in Leavenworth."

"Like me."

"Like you." Smith sighed heavily. "I have a lot of friends in the regular Army and the Guard. I asked a few of them to keep an eye out for people who might be able to help me in my task. You have the skills and determination to do what we needed, but I couldn't afford to have someone who I couldn't trust working for me. And I certainly couldn't justify working with someone who left Delta Force to commit treasonous acts."

"So that interrogation was a job interview?"

"You could call it that."

"It's nice that you you think you can trust me and all, but I'm not really feeling I can trust you."

"I understand." Smith held up a thick folder. "This is your file." He began feeding pages in to a shredder next to the desk. "It's going away. You've got a clean slate and, I dare say, you can be Rob or you can be Alexander Simkins. Hell, you can be Alexander Graham Bell for all it matters. You're free. But your country needs you now."

"To do what?"

"To find people."

"And kill them?"

Smith shook his head emphatically. "Absolutely not. We need you to help people." He finished with the shredder and leaned across the desk. "I'll level with you. It's absolute chaos out there. We're not advertising it, but the armed forces of this nation are at just over 50% strength and maybe a quarter of their expected effectiveness. A lot of people have disappeared and a lot simply went AWOL. Militia groups and gangs have sprung up all over the place and are grinding the Guards down. We couldn't win a war right now if we wanted. Hell, we couldn't fight a war right now."

Something clicked in Rob's head. "So is that why the U.S. Ambassador suggested turning everything over to the U.N.?"

Smith stared at him for a moment, blinking silently. "Um, not exactly," he finally said. "In fact, no one is really sure why that happened. The Joint Chiefs are up in arms over it and word has it that the British Ambassador isn't welcome home any more after his move to support the motion. Quite frankly, as weak as we are, turning control over to the United Nations will only weaken us further."

"So have we recalled the ambassador and reversed course?"

The Special Agent rubbed his eyes and breathed heavily through his nose. "No," he said after a moment. "The President went in to a closed-door session with that Carpathia creep mad as hell and came back like they were the best of buddies. Congress is panicking and word has it that they'll either turn control over or declare war on the U.N."

"What's going to happen?"

"Well, that's where you come in. Some of our most vocal opponents of the United Nations disappeared. We know a few of them were part of The Event, but several others were out of the Capitol at the time and apparently away from witnesses. We need them. And we need someone to find them."

"Can I think about it?"

"Yes. But not for long."

Lead Thoughts and Lost Horizons, Part 1

[Note: This is the next entry in "Answered Prayer."]

"I will ask one more time. And this time you will tell me the truth."

"That's what you said two times ago."

"No it isn't. I have never asked this question before."

"That's what you said last time."

The frown. When Black Hair frowned it was a good sign. It meant he was losing. He couldn't keep the questioning up forever.

"Did you or did you not consort with enemies of the United States of America after going AWOL from the Armed Services?"

"No."

"You disappoint me, Alexander." Black Hair stood. "Perhaps you'll be more talkative in the morning." He turned and left. When he closed the door he took the light with him.

Morning and night meant nothing in the inky blackness. He had no clock, no watch, but even though nearly two "weeks" had passed, it was probably closer to a day. A day of mind games, drugs, darkness, light. Child's play.

The trick was to keep the mind focused on something, anything. Preferably something that couldn't be used against him. A song.

There ain't no moral to this story at all
And anything I tell you very well may be a lie
I've been away from the living
I don't need to be forgiven
I'm just waiting for this coal black soul of mine
To come alive

Good, remember the words. The next chorus built on them. Remember the new words.

Light.

"Good morning, Alexander." The Hot One. She was good. Almost unfair, really, training a beautiful woman to be an interrogator. Like men had a chance in the first place, especially since she brought the light and one of those skirts that professional women with great calves wear when they want to show off. "Did you sleep well?"

Silence. Women hated that, at least to hear a dozen ex-girlfriends tell it.

Hot One leaned over, nice and close. Cleavage. Perfume. Damn. "I asked how you slept."

"Rob."

"What?"

"My name's Rob, not Alexander." It was his game with her. Keep her off her toes.

"Ah, still on this, are we?" She stepped back. "Sergeant Alexander Simkins, formerly of Delta Force. Well, not officially, of course. I know who you are. And the United States does not take too kindly when members of its special forces just disappear one day. Would you care to guess what the punishment is?"

There ain't no moral to this story at all
And anything I tell you very well may be a lie
I've been away from the living
I don't need to be forgiven
I'm just waiting for this coal black,
Sun-cracked soul of mine
To come alive

"Don't care. My name's Rob."

Hot One leaned forward, her eyes softened. "Look, Alex, you seem like a good guy who did something stupid. I can help you. I can get you out of here. You just have to work with me." She dropped her voice, made it husky. "I might even be able to work with you."

This was a new one. He looked her up and down once, slowly, for the first time. He drew her scent in, let it linger in his nose.

"No." It was a challenge, but he had a weapon. He could beat her.

"Awww, Alex," she purred, "Are you sure?" Hot One leaned in close, her lips brushed his ear as she whispered, "You don't know what you're missing."

"You wish."

"Who is she?"

"Huh?"

"C'mon, you've got to be head over heels to reject an offer like that. Who is she?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you do."

"Nope."

"Maybe it's that girl who you were with when we found you."

"She means nothing." No, not Dawn.

"Dawn, I believe her name was," Hot One's voice dropped, sinister this time. "Maybe I'll just have to ask her a few questions." She walked to the door. "Tomorrow, then, Alexander."

Darkness.

He spent the "night" staring in to the empty blackness.

Light. Big Nose.

He placed a portable DVD player on the floor. "I'm sorry the volume doesn't seem to be working, Sergeant, but I thought you might want to see this." Big Nose pressed play. Dawn appeared on the little screen, across from Black Hair. Her hands were over her eyes. She was sobbing.

He took a deep breath, heart cracking inside like glass.

"We are sorry we had to do this, Sergeant. Had you been more cooperative we might not have had to." Big Nose pressed stop. "This was right after she found out what the penalties are for harboring a fugitive from justice and aiding and abetting a treasonous act."

His glass heart broke.

"She did nothing." He fought back tears.

"Tell me what I want to know."

"Will you let her go?"

"Yes."

"What do you want to know?"

"Have you or have you not ever committed a treasonous act against the United States of America?"

That same damn question. They didn't seem to want the truth, but the truth might cost Dawn her life. He stared at Big Nose.

There ain't no moral to this story at all
And anything I tell you you can bet will be a lie
I've been away from the living
I don't need to be forgiven
I'm just waiting for this coal black
Sun cracked
Numb inside soul of mine
To come alive

"No."

Answered Prayer, Part 9

Sunlight was already streaming through the window when he woke up, filling the space with warm, yellow light. Dawn was lying on his chest. He gave her a squeeze. Her eyes opened slowly.

"Morning, beautiful," he said.

"Morning," she said, then kissed his chest.

"So what's the plan for today?"

"I don't know," she pulled herself up and put her head on the pillow next to him, "Maybe we should just stay right here."

"That sounds like a great idea."

"I thought so." She began drawing lazy circles on his chest with her fingertips.

"So, uh, where were you?" he asked.

"Where was I when? I've been right here."

"I mean when it happened."

She winced.

"It's okay," Rob said. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want."

"No, it's..." she smiled, although it was more of a grimace, "It's just that it was..."

"You don't have to say anything, really."

"I was with him," she said, all trace of hesitation gone from her voice.

"Oh."

"I was trying to break it off with him," she snorted, "Like I'd done so many times."

"I see."

She propped herself up on an elbow and looked down at him. "You know those people, right? The ones that you can't stand to be around because they make you feel like shit, but whenever you try to get rid of them you just...don't. Well, Colin was like that. I mean, not always. Just, you know, later. After I'd been with him for a while."

She smiled wistfully. "When I first met him he seemed wonderful. He was one of those people who could find you in a crowd and make you feel like the only other person on the whole planet. I wanted him. I think I fell in love with him." She shrugged. "He was married, of course, but that didn't matter. He told me he wasn't happy with his wife, that he would break it off if it weren't for the effect it would have on his children and his career. Of course I believed him." A tear formed at the corner of her eye. "I was so stupid then."

Rob reached up and stroked her cheek. "No, you weren't."

"I was," she smiled, "And I know what you're trying to do. Thank you."

"What am I trying to do?"

"Make me feel better about being stupid. I was twenty, I'd been pretty sheltered, and I was stupid. I'm a lot smarter now."

"Just so you know."

She kissed him. "I do. Anyway, I think I was telling you a story."

"Yeah."

"Oh, yeah, Colin. All the guys I'd dated before were young and self-centered. I was just kind of an accessory to them or something to do on a Saturday night. I like to think that it's because they were young and stupid, then, too, but I don't know."

"It's a good bet," Rob said. "I can't speak for all guys, but we're pretty stupid when it comes to that stuff."

"Yeah. But Colin wasn't. He was caring and kind. Now, of course, I know that he was being self-centered, too, he was just better at it than the boys I'd been with before."

"Sounds like it."

"Yeah," she nodded. "About a year ago I found out that he'd pulled the same exact routine with another one of the station interns about two years before I got the job. She'd graduated and gone back home, so he just took the next one who came along. That was me.

"Maybe I should be flattered, I don't know, but he didn't drop me when I graduated. We kept right on seeing each other, he kept right on lying to me, and I kept right on believing him.

"Then, of course, I found out that I wasn't his first. I got pissed and started yelling at me. He apologized, said that he was lying to himself and the girl from before, but now he wasn't lying to me. And I believed him. I told him I'd wait for him. And I did, for a while. Then he hurt me again. I yelled at him again. He lied again. I believed him again."

Rob snaked his arm around her and pulled her close. "I'm so sorry."

"For what?"

"I don't know," he kissed her on the forehead, "For what you went through, I guess."

"It's not your fault."

"I know. Still..."

"Thank you." She kissed his cheek. "But it's okay. He's gone now. Literally."

"Yeah."

Her voice dropped low. "I watched it happen."

"What?"

"We were at this cheap motel down in Bolingbrook. I was supposed to be breaking up with him for, like, the fifth time, but instead, well...

"So I got out of bed afterward. I knew that I couldn't break it off. I just wasn't strong enough and whenever I tried he'd talk me back out of it. I turned around and looked at him lying in that bed and I remember I prayed. I said, 'God, I'm not strong enough to do this. Save me from him. Save me from me.'" She paused.

"At that exact moment he disappeared. It was like...he was there...then there was a hole in the sheets and they just collapsed. I...I think there was even a pop."

Rob stared at her for a second. "Wow."

"I know."

"There," he took a deep breath, "There's something I have to tell you. Two somethings, actually."

"What?"

The response was swallowed up when someone began pounding on the apartment door.

"Hold on," Rob said. He slipped out of bed and grabbed his jeans off the floor. He pulled them on, then grabbed his Glock off the dresser and slipped it in to his back pocket.

He went to the front door and cautiously opened it. Two men in black suits were standing in the hallway, flanked by a pair of fully armed Army privates.

One of the suits spoke. "Sergeant Alexander Simkins." It was a statement not a question.

Rob fought off the urge to grab the Glock and start firing. He wouldn't stand a chance. "Yes," he said.

"You'll come with us." Once again it wasn't a request.

RPG Teaser 2: The Technocratic Union

The Symposium: Pacific Northwest Orbital Construct

Dr. Michael Traveler turned on the teleconference system. At once, the far wall of his office vanished to be replaced by a virtual conference room. Symposium Chair James Thorndyke was already present. One by one, the other Symposium members winked in, followed by the week's guest speakers.

Thorndyke cleared his throat and everyone turned to look at him. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have convened a special meeting of the Symposium today to discuss an appropriate response yesterday's catastrophe and the ongoing crisis." Thorndyke looked around the room then asked the newcomers to introduce themselves.
One Japanese man introduced himself as Tetsuo Kawashita of the Syndicate, substituting for the usual representative who has lost two daughters. One other newcomer had a similar reason for being there. The rest had reports to present.

The first report was from the Void Engineers. The speaker wore the standard orange jumpsuit, but didn't carry it off with the usual Void Engineer attitude. The fact that he looked like he hadn't slept in thirty-six hours might have had something to do with it.

From him, they learned that the Incursion, which seemed to have already acquired a capital I, had gone from Darkside Moonbase to the Front Lines in less than a second. Every Horizon Construct in between had been struck, and nothing had been heard from any of the Union's other in solar system Constructs. It would be at least two weeks before anyone heard anything from any of the Deep Universal Constructs.

Then came a from Iteration X listing estimates of the missing and dead. Over two billion vanished, most of them children. Approximately thirty million more dead from medical crises or trauma. As the Iterator listed the Union's missing, Traveler found himself paying close attention to what she said about the missing constructs. Five percent or less non-human DNA. Was that significant? And apparently the remaining constructs displayed a level of individuality deemed unacceptable by the cyborg or her master. Traveler had to stifle his gut reaction to that assessment. The Iterator moved on to missing prisoners. Fifty-one prisoners had vanished from holding, all of them from the Celestial Chorus. Yet not every Chorister had vanished, and the Statisticians were puzzling over why.

"Trust a cyborg to miss miss the obvious," thought Traveler as he buzzed for attention. "You have input for us, Director?" asked the Iterator.

Traveler nodded. "My facility had three such prisoners vanish. All of them self-identified as Evangelical Christians. Of the four Chorus prisoners remaining in my facilities, one claims to be a Mithraist, two are Catholic, and one is a 7th Day Adventist. I suggest that you look into what religious sects the missing prisoners belonged to."

The Iterator, stopped, apparently watching a Heads Up Display. Then she spoke, "I have passed your observation to my superiors. They consider it worth looking into. Does anyone else have similar data?" Philip Austin of NWO Operations and Elaine Koenig of Psych Ops both looked down at their personal consoles, murmuring instructions to their computers.

"Not immediately," said Austin. "I'll have to put the data together later and forward it to Statistics."

Koenig looked up from her console, "Preliminary examination of Psych Ops records is consistent with Dr. Traveler's observation. I'll forward the complete records after the conference."

As the Iterator continued, a change in her normally uninflected voice caught Traveler's attention. An Iterator expressing emotion? Fear from the sound of it. "Most of you are no doubt familiar with the Apocalypse Forecast,*" she said. "This is an update. The crisis has begun, and we are unable to forecast anything beyond seven years."

That announcement nearly broke up the meeting as some people jumped up and started shouting while others sagged in their seats. The Iterator Programmer and the regional Comptroller merely sat waiting for everyone to settle down. Finally, Thorndyke had to lean hard on his buzzer to get everyone's attention.

"People! Before we worry about the next seven years, let's worry about getting through the next seven days shall we? For that, we need to know what's going on."

"Mr. Austin, what's the report from the Front Lines?"

"Well, accidents are up for reasons previously noted. In addition, suicides are up and there's been a few cases of people going nuts with guns, looking for someone to blame as far as we can tell.

We've been trying to help the mundane authorities where we can, but our available personnel are stretched thin responding to an upsurge in Deviant activity. It doesn't help that many Front Lines operatives are unable to work to, well, personal losses.

"Marauder and Nephandic activity are up. The Marauders seem to be just taking advantage of the Gauntlet breach, but damned if it doesn't look like the Nephandi were tipped off if not actually following a plan. No proof, unfortunately. Vampire activity is up. Seems to be just a case of taking advantage of the confusion. Lycanthrope attacks are way up and I'm getting reports of types I hadn't heard of before, felines, rats, a bear. Dr. Traveler's people have been very helpful dealing with them." He looked over at Traveler who'd suddenly sat up at the mention of a bear, "How the hell did you know? Nobody else seems to have anticipated that one."

Traveler shrugged. "Lycanthropes are my specialty. Basically you need to know two things. The first one, any field op who's ever encountered them knows; lycanthropes don't cope well with stress, and when they're over stressed they turn into 8-9 foot tall monsters with lots of built-in weaponry. The second thing is less well known; lycanthropy is inherited. In other words, they have families."

"Oh my god," burst out Barbara Sloan from Analysis. "They're lashing out. Just like the people with the guns."

Traveler nodded. "Bingo. And there's more of them in cities than you'd expect." A thought struck him and he bit off a curse in his native language. "You mentioned rats? Hell, we'll have to deal with epidemics anyway, but wererats will exacerbate the problem. They're plague carriers, enhanced plague carriers. You'll need to isolate anyone bitten by one of the creatures, and get them to a top level facility as soon as possible."

"They are?" said Austin. "Shit. Well, you're the expert." He made a couple of notes. "Superstitionist attacks on our facilities have also increased. Speaking of lashing out, at least some of the superstitionists seem to be blaming us for what happened."

Everyone digested that for a few seconds.

Thorndyke finally broke the silence, "So, the floor is open. Does anyone have any ideas for what we can do?"

"We'll need to get the most psychologically traumatized field personnel into counseling and put them back to work as quickly as possible," said Koenig. Kawashita asked if it would be possible to just put a temporary block on the emotions while leaving the patients' memories intact instead of wiping the memories completely. Koenig looked at him blankly. "But that would be inefficient. We'd just have to treat them again." Traveler managed to hide his appalled reaction, but noticed that several others at the table were less successful. The Iterators didn't react, no surprise there, but neither did Thorndyke. Either he was hiding his reaction too, or he didn't care. Traveler hoped he never had to find out which. The Psych Op was certainly living down to her department's reputation.

Just then, an attention chime sounded indicating that someone else wanted to join the conference. By the priority code, it was someone with serious pull.

The conference room reconfigured itself to make room for the newcomer, an older man of clearly Germanic descent in a white suit. He introduced himself as Martin Arendt, speaking for Control. The remainder of the Symposium was spent discussing Control's planned response to the Incursion, both internally and in terms of the Union's efforts to influence the world's governments.

*I didn't invent this; it's from the Guide to the Technocracy. Basically it states that there's a close to 75% probability of a world-shaking crisis occurring within the next ten years.

Crossposted to Right Behind RPG

Answered Prayer, Part 8

The cop was sloppy. His charge had noticed it almost immediately and prepared to take advantage by being extra docile. It was working.

"Can't believe the Army would go to all the effort to pull jurisdiction for a guy like you," the cop said. "Hell, it was just a drunk and disorderly. And you're neither right now."

"They take this shit seriously," the criminal replied, shrugging and shuffling slightly closer to his captor, "That's the Army for you." The sally port was already open, the cop had been kind enough to cuff his hands in front. It was just a matter of waiting for the right moment.

"I wonder if that's them?" the cop said, focusing on a black car a few blocks down.

It was the moment. The prisoner's hands flashed towards the distracted policeman's holster and came up with his service Glock. "Get down, now," the prisoner commanded.

The cop complied. "Don't shoot me," he pleaded. "I've got a wife. I've got kids."

"I'm not gonna kill you. Give me the keys to these cuffs and I won't do a damn thing to hurt you."

Again the officer complied. It would have been a perfect getaway had it not been for one thing. The black car was actually the one with the MPs who were coming to pick him up. And they had definitely noticed that something was amiss.

The prisoner looked up just as the car began accelerating. He abandoned his attempts to remove the handcuffs and instead took off running. There was an alleyway a block down with dumpsters at the entrance, too narrow for a car. He cut down it.

The black car screeched in to a turn and followed him down a parallel street. He turned in to another alleyway and crossed a busy street, narrowly avoiding getting hit.

He cut right, then left. The black car was always there, always a block away, always turning the corner in time to catch sight of him.

Then it was all over.

He came to the mouth of an alleyway at the exact same moment the black car screeched around a corner, nearly clipping a blue Subaru WRX on the fender.

The doors opened. One of the MPs advanced on him, training an M4 at his head. The other stood out in the street, acting as cover.

"Drop the gun," the cop commanded.

The prisoner complied.

"Get on your knees and put your hands on top of your head.

Again the prisoner complied.

"Now don't try anything funny. I am authorized to put a bullet in your head "

He was completely out of options. There was nowhere left to run, nowhere he could hide. The only chance he had was the last resort of the desperate.

"God," he whispered up to the sky, "I know I don't talk to you, I don't do what you want too often, and, hell, I'm not sure I believe in you. But I can't stand to get locked up. Help me out and I'll change my ways."

And with that the MP in front of him vanished in to thin air.

His uniform suddenly emptied itself of its contents and seemed to waver in the air for just a second before gently collapsing to the ground. The gun clattered to the pavement and the sudden shock worked the mechanism once, firing a round that narrowly missed the confused prisoner's right ear.

Somewhere off in the distance someone shrieked. Tires squealed. There was a crunch of metal.

Silence fell over the scene.

The other MP looked down at the empty uniform, then up at the man crouching in the alley. His jaw worked once, twice. No words came out.

"Wha..." he finally managed to get out. He stepped backwards, eyes locked on the mysterious stranger.

He never noticed that he was stepping in front of a car.

It screamed down the road, empty, driverless, as unaware of the man in the road as the man was of it.

The MP bounced off the front of the car and out of sight. The car swerved to the left and tried to do the same thing to a light post. The car lost.

Silence again reigned. "That...that wasn't quite what I had in mind," the former prisoner said after a long moment. He pulled the handcuff keys out of his pocket and fumbled with them for a moment. Freed, he let them clatter to the pavement and stood up.

A sound from the unoccupied car startled him. He grabbed the Glock and started to swing it in line. The passenger door opened and a young woman fell out. She tried to push herself up, but then collapsed. She pushed herself up one more time, then began puking.

He decided she was no threat and put the pistol in his pocket, then grabbed the M4 and cautiously poked his head out in to the street. No one was there but him and the puking woman.

The Subaru was still sitting exactly where it had been when the black car cut it off. It was idling quietly, driverless.

He walked over and looked in through the windshield. A puddle of clothes sat on the driver's seat, the only indication anyone had ever been in the vehicle.

Not one to overlook a true gift, he opened the door of the car and pulled the clothes out, then switched wallets with the disappeared. "Sorry, man," he told the jeans as he dropped them on the pavement. "Looks like I need your identity more than you do right now."

He dropped his two newly acquired guns in the trunk, then got in the Subaru and pulled around the empty Army car. As he did the woman rolled over and looked at him.

"Help me," she said through her puke stained face, clutching her side, obviously in pain.

He drove past her. It was her problem. Something pricked him in the back of his mind. He'd made a promise. He stopped the car and backed it up, then helped the woman in.

"I don't understand," she said. "One minute he was there, then he wasn't."

"I don't, either."

He took the woman to the closest hospital, but didn't stick around. As soon as an Emergency Room orderly arrived to help, he took off as fast as he possibly could. Something strange had happened and he had to take advantage of it. He tuned in to a news station to see if anyone had noted the disappearance, only to discover that it wasn't an isolated case. People were gone all over the city.

On the outskirts of Phoenix he stopped at a storage locker to get some things he knew he was going to need. Years of practice had taught him exactly how to run.

He filled the Subaru's tank at a nearby gas station and pointed the car in the general direction of New Mexico. As he headed east in to the desert, he pulled out his newly acquired wallet and looked at the driver's license.

"Hey," he said to the rear view mirror, deciding to practice using his new identity. "I'm Robert. What's up. Robert. Nice to meet you."

He decided he really didn't like the sound of Robert.

"Hey," he said to the mirror, "I'm Rob."

The irony of his new name suddenly hit him. He laughed for the first time in days.

The car soon felt lonely, though. Quiet. He plugged a Dead Hot Workshop CD in to the car's CD player. There was nothing better for a long drive through the desert. Well, them or the Peacemakers.

I'm too tired for sleeping
Fast asleep but I'm not dreaming
Look for truth in aberration
Sinned to much to be forgiven.

I walked from Hell to here today
The world is young as it is wild
For every step you plan to take
Plan to walk another mile
Don't confuse yourself
If it don't mean anything

Answered Prayer, Part 7

"Why would the American ambassador just offer to de-arm?" the bartender asked.

"I don't know," Rob said, "But it makes about as much sense as China and Russia offering to adopt a U.N. sanctioned religion."

"I can't see the French going for that, either," Dawn added. "And I think India is one of the current Elected Members, so I doubt they'd support it."

Rob and the bartender turned and looked at her.

"What?" she held her hands up, "I was a poli sci minor. I'm a total politics geek."

Rob shook his head. "I wish I'd known what I was getting in to."

"Hey, you decided to stick around."

"I guess I did." He turned back to the bartender, "Um, hate to change the subject, but can I get a cheeseburger?"

"Sure thing," the bartender replied, looking relieved to be thinking about something different. "And for you, miss?"

"I'll have one, too," Dawn said.

"Nice," Rob said, smiling.

"What?"

"I like a girl who can order a cheeseburger."

"Then you'll love this," she winked at him, then turned back to the bartender. "I'll take a Johnnie Walker Black. Rocks." She looked back at him. "Your move."

"Maker's," Rob said. "Double, neat."

* * *

They left the bar three hours later, the strange video long forgotten. She was having a hard time standing up straight. Rob was more than happy to wrap his arm around her waist and keep her walking in a straight line.

"I just want you to know," Dawn said, slurring her words slightly, "That I usually don't drink like this."

"It shows."

They got to his car and he helped her in to the passenger's seat. "Hey, Rob?" she asked as he started to close her door.

"Yeah?"

"Let's not go back to Colin's place."

"Where do you want to go?"

"It just so happens that I have a perfectly cute little apartment of my own." She smiled up at him. "Let's go there."

"Okay."

He ran around the car and hopped in on the driver's side. As soon as he pulled away from the curb Dawn rolled down the window and began gulping in huge lungfuls of air. "Okay," she said after a minute, looking and sounding quite a bit more sober, "I'll have to give you directions."

"That would be nice."

An uneventful ten-minute drive brought them to a little apartment complex set off the road in a leafy residential neighborhood. She led him through a security door, up a staircase, down a hall, and in to a bright apartment decorated in reds, blacks, and whites and organized along sharp, straight, modern lines. "Here we are," she said. "Take off your shoes, please."

"Really?" He asked, kicking off his shoes. "This doesn't look at all like what I imagined your place would look."

"I got the stuff in this room from my sister," she replied. "The bedrooms and the kitchen are all me, though." She walked over to a stereo in the corner and turned it on. A soft guitar filled the room, followed by a Scottish-accented tenor voice.

Row gently down the waves as they grow
Unlike the land the sea can let its pride show
When you're hand in hand in a storm's command
Let the boat go gently

"I love this song," Dawn said, walking back across the floor and taking Rob by the hand.

If morning ever breaks its spell
We'll be floating on a heaven that whispers hell
And the wind sounds like the world is waking
So row gently now

She led him over to the couch. He sat down and she put her leg up on the couch so she was sitting facing him. "Um," she said, shyly, "So..."

Between every grain of sand there are chances
And better times to make advances
The walls of stone
That we'll leave behind us

He looked in to her eyes for a moment, then put his hand behind her head and leaned towards her. Their lips met.

As we go now into the blue, into the blue
Whatever this moment turns into
Go now into the blue, into the blue
Whatever this moment turns into

She pulled back slightly. "You're a good kisser," she said, then met his lips again.

Let the sails down, let them blow
When we're awake we won't feel so alone
The tide has its pride, but it's a pride that comes and goes
First so strong then so gently

He stopped, then looked at her for a long moment.

"What?" she finally asked.

"I don't know," he shrugged, "I'm just trying to figure out how I got here."

"Don't think about it," she said, "It can only ruin the moment."

There are hills beyond these hills
Where the air is still grey in its mystery
That thankfully will always remain a mystery to me

"C'mon," she said, grabbing his hand and standing up. "Let's see if we can't find a way to get you to stop thinking about the past for a little while."

As we go now into the blue, into the blue
Whatever this moment turns into
Go now into the blue, into the blue
Whatever this moment turns into

Answered Prayer, Part 6

"Welcome, welcome, friend," the dark-haired man said, sticking out his hand, "I'm Christopher."

Rob shook the offered hand. "Rob. It's, uh, it's nice to meet you."

"We were just about to sit down for the evening meal," the woman standing next to Christopher said, "Would you care to join us?"

"Sure," Rob said, "Thank you."

The couple, or at least he assumed they were a couple, led Rob in to the house. "We don't get too many visitors out here," the woman said, "But we like to be hospitable."

"Not too many are these days," Rob replied.

"Well, it's important for us to display the love to everyone," she said, "We are the chosen, after all."

"I see," Rob said, unsure of how to reply. "By the way, I didn't catch your name."

"Martha."

"Are you married? I mean, to each other?"

"Oh, no," she laughed. "There's no marriage here."

"I see."

Rob fell silent and let them lead him through the house and out the back. They ended up in a large barn. A pair of long, wooden tables ran most of the length of the building. Each table was about half occupied, with men ranging in age from about seventy to maybe fifteen sitting on the inside and women, mostly skewed towards younger ages, sitting on the outside.

"Take a seat," Christopher said, gesturing towards an empty spot next to a young man and across from a blond teenage girl.

Rob took the offered seat. He shook hands with the guy sitting next to him. "Rob."

"Charlie." Nice to meet you.

He turned to the girl, who smiled shyly, then looked down at the table. "Hey, I'm Rob," he said.

She looked up, smiled again, and mumbled something. "That's Kristen," Charlie said. "She's kind of shy, but once you get to know her better...well, you'll learn, I'm sure."

"Huh?"

Rob didn't get a response. Christopher had taken a position at the head of one of the tables. He loudly cleared his throat and began speaking.

"Friends," he said, "Today is a truly auspicious day. I have heard from the lord. He has given me a message to share with you all. It has been ten days since the Lord took away our enemies and our work is finally to begin."

Rob risked a look across the table at Kristen. She was staring at Christopher with rapt attention and an expression somewhere between love and worship. He turned and caught a glance at a couple of the men at the other table. They, too, had adopted an expression of worship. He began to feel distinctly uncomfortable.

He pulled his jacket close to his side as unobtrusively as possible. The reassuring bulk of the Glock in its concealed pocket offered a bit of comfort.

"We have waited for the prophesied day," Christopher continued, "The day that the Lord removes the lukewarm church from this world and takes the innocents in to his divine protection so that we can begin the true work of preparing this world for the imminent return of the Messiah.

"And much work must be done to prepare this world. For the Good Book commands, 'Go ye therefore and multiply and subdue the Earth.' And that it what we will do. Tonight the Lord told me it is time to begin multiplying so that we might raise new children in the proper way.

"I have told you," he voice lowered, "That the sins of this world will be repaid to it seven fold. The Lord has shown that He is displeased with the heathens, the heretics, and the false believers for raising the innocent to be full of carnal and worldly knowledge. So the Lord has taken the innocents away.

"It is now time," his voice rose, "Time for us. It is time for us to multiply. It is time for us to subdue. It is time for us to lead the world in the Lord's name," he finished nearly at a yell.

The young man next to Rob had turned his attention to the girl across the table. He was studying her with a lustful gaze. Everything suddenly clicked in to place. He wanted to run.

"I'm so glad you've come to join us," Kristen said from across the table. "I didn't think I'd be able to play my part in the Lord's plan."

"You, uh, you what?"

"I've been preparing my entire life for this moment," she smiled at him, "But as the youngest, I didn't think I would have a chance. This is a great blessing."

"The youngest? How old are you?"

"Fifteen."

Rob swallowed hard and blinked. "And you've been here your entire life?"

"Yes," she nodded enthusiastically, "I've been blessed to be born and raised here, in the Lord's new Eden."

"I have to go," Rob said. He began to get up from the table, but suddenly realized he was already standing. All he could think about was escape.

Several of the men had also stood up. They began to gather around him.

"What seems to be the commotion?" Christopher asked, stepping between two of the men to stand directly in front of Rob.

"I'm really not comfortable with...well, with whatever it is you're doing here," Rob said. "I think I'm going to go."

"But you haven't even had dinner," Christopher said. "I'm sure that it will all seem much better after you've filled your stomach."

"No, no, that's okay."

"Really, we insist."

"I do, too," Rob pulled out the Glock. The men all backed off a step. He turned to Kristen. "Look, I don't know you," he said, "But if things are happening here that I think are happening, you don't have to stick around."

"But it's the Lord's plan," she replied.

"No," Rob shook his head, "It isn't. Look, I don't know what god's plan is, but it's not this. This is just fucked up."

"I will not go with you," she said. "I will stay here and do the work the Lord has given me. The Good Book says that I will be blessed by my children, so I must play my part."

"I should put a bullet through your head," Rob said to Christopher, his voice lowering to an angry growl. "But I don't think that killing you will save that poor girl from being exploited by one of these other perverts."

One of the other men stepped in front of Christopher. "I don't think you have enough bullets to kill us all, mister. Do you?"

Rob's finger tightened on the trigger and for a brief moment he considered trying to get to Christopher. "No," he whispered, relaxing his grip, "I don't."

"These are our ways," Kristen said. "We live by the word of the Lord."

"I don't think that your god called you to have children with the first random guy who shows up," Rob said. "Christopher over here is exploiting you. You don't have to stay. Come with me. Please."

"You should probably go," Kristen said. "You obviously do not understand the ways of the Lord and will bring judgment down upon us if you stay."

Rob realized his was in a no win situation. He backed out of the barn, then turned and ran back to his Subaru.

As he got back on the road and pointed the car towards Missouri, he looked in the rear view mirror and made a simple vow. "I will never leave anyone behind again," he said to the empty highway behind him. "I've run away too many times."

RPG Teaser 1: The Technocratic Union

An Exchange of Memos

From: Research Director Michael Traveler, Progenitor Research and Education Collective Z234

To: Admin

Re: Request for assistance

At approximately 2000 hours, [date] this facility suffered a complete failure of its dimensional shields. Whatever breached our shields did no equipment damage other than the shield generators; however, it took a large number of personnel as follows.

3 prisoners, all fanatics from the Celestial Chorus

Every child under the age of 10.

Several children between the ages of 11 and 15.

Every bioconstruct created in the facility that was based on human genetics and under two weeks of age or still in growth tanks.

17 bioconstructs in for treatment

In addition: Every pregnant woman in the facility suffered a spontaneous abortion (I wouldn't call it a miscarriage if there were no contractions.)

Several prisoners took advantage of the resulting confusion to attempt an escape. They have been recaptured.

We need assistance to defend the facility against future incursions and repair our shields. We do not have nearly enough combat personal.

Traveler

attachments: list of missing personnel w/Ident codes

list of equipment damaged in escape attempt

surveillance video of incident

From: Henry Burford, Western North America Regional Administration

To: All facility directors

Re: Requested assistance

I know you don't pay attention to anything outside your own interests, but you're going to have to wait your turn for assistance. In case none of you prima donnas noticed, the whole planet and every Construct inside the Horizon was affected. If any of the Traditions were responsible for this, it appears to have been a small faction as preliminary surveillance suggests that they were affected as well.

Right now we're busy putting out fires on the Front Lines. You'll have to make do with what you've got.

Also, this week's Symposium is moved up to tomorrow at 1600 hours UTC for all Constructs in this region.

Burford

From: Research Director Michael Traveler, Progenitor Research and Education Collective Z234

To: Henry Burford, Western North America Regional Administration

Re: Front Lines Incursion

Wait a minute. The Front Lines were affected globally? If people disappeared in anything like the distribution we experienced, you'd better be prepared to respond to an upsurge in lycanthrope attacks. I'm not kidding. Get the word out immediately. I'll send as many people as I can spare to assist with handling such problems. They'll all be medically qualified as well. Also, I want as many live specimens as possible without endangering the public or unduly endangering the field personnel.

Traveler

PS Can you at least get us temporary shielding while we prepare to receive casualties from the field? I'd hate lose them to another incursion after treating them.

Edit: Crossposted to Right Behind RPG

Answered Prayer, Part 5

Sunlight was already streaming through the window when he woke up, filling the space with warm, yellow light. Dawn was lying on his chest. He gave her a squeeze. Her eyes opened slowly.

"Hey," she said, smiling. "You're still here."

He smiled back. "Of course."

"I was kind of worried this was going to be awkward."

"What? This?" He laughed. "I think this is one of the lest awkward, um, ones of these I've ever had."

"One of these?"

"Yeah. I'm not entirely sure what to call it. I mean, we weren't on a date, we didn't have sex, but...well...here we are."

She reached up and stroked his right cheek, then kissed him on the left. "Plenty of time to worry about that later," she said. "But I believe you promised me that you'd be taking me out today."

"That I did."

* * *

There wasn't much going on in their little corner of suburban Chicago. Things seemed to be slowly returning to normal, but it looked like there was a long way to go. Some shops were open and engaging in desultory trading, bartering in kind as much as, if not more than, dealing in cash. People seemed to trust that cash was still good, but at the moment it was less useful than getting goods in trade.

"This is sad," Dawn said after they'd looked in their dozenth darkened window. "I mean, this is really sad."

"I'm guessing it'll be back," Rob said. "At least it doesn't look like there's been much looting."

"Well," she smiled up at him, "You didn't get to town until yesterday."

"Hey, now."

"I'm sure you'll have the problem fixed by the weekend." She slipped her arm around his waist and gave him a squeeze. It softened the blow considerably.

"I think I see a big rock over there," he laughed and put his arm around her. "I could show you how it's done."


"So should I feel honored that you decided not to break my window?"

"Nah. I just don't have time to teach you how to pick locks. It's easier for rookies to just throw something heavy."

"How about we just go over to that bar over there?" she pointed down the street.

"You think it's actually open?"

"Looks like it."

He checked his watch. "Well, it is nearly half past noon. And I'm pretty sure we don't have to be anywhere. Let's start drinking."

"Cool," she looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. "Colin didn't drink and wouldn't have the stuff in his house. I miss it."

"Ooh, that's rough. I think I'd kill myself if I had to spend two weeks stuck in a house without beer."

"It's my own fault."

"True. Let's go help you repent."

They walked down to the bar. It was open for business and occupied by a few people who obviously didn't have anywhere else to be. They ignored the tables and took a pair of seats at the bar.

"Menus?" the bartender asked, "Or just here for the ambiance?" he jerked his head towards a sullen pair at the far end of the room.

"Menus would be good," Rob said. "What do you have?"

"Pretty much anything 'cept the fish and anything that needs tomatoes."

"You take cash?"

The bartender raised an eyebrow. "Cash? Of course. Where do you think we are?"

"I, uh..."

"You a runner?"

"Yeah."


The bartender nodded. "Ah. Yeah, civilization's still here. Best get used to it."

"Hey," Dawn cut in, "Turn that TV up."

There was a TV over the bar that had been playing a re-run of Two and a Half Men on mute. It had switched to a view of a pair of anchors sitting in a studio somewhere. The bartender grabbed a remote and turned the volume on."

"...disturbing video from the temporary U.N. headquarters in Geneva, Switzerland. It shows the new Secretary-General Nicholae Carpathia's first address to the Security Council. The video was uploaded from a camera phone and no one is sure of the source."

The scene shifted to the middle of a grainy, low-fi video. The camera was behind the speaker, pointed more or less at the main table behind which sat the Security Council.

"We must unify to face this threat," the Secretary General was saying. "It is something that is much larger than the petty struggles that have so long divided us. I propose, therefore, that we take a first, symbolic step. We must disband the religions of the world and create a single, unified belief that all people can see, understand, and appreciate."

"What?" The Chinese ambassador stood, face flushed with rage. "You presume to come before this body with promises of assistance and this is what you give us? This...this...I do not even know what to say." The ambassador paused and took a deep breath. "China does not have an official state religion. It is an insult to suggest that we must have one now."

"I believe," Carpathia's voice was quiet, measured, "That you are mistaken in your assessment of the situation. You will go to your government and you will suggest that they comply with my suggestions. There can be no other way."

The Chinese ambassador suddenly seemed to deflate. "Y-yes. I will do as you say," he said mechanically, nodding. Then he sat down.

"Wait," the Russian ambassador stood. "This is foolishness. Even if you do convince the Chinese, Russia will not stand for this." He stopped. For the next several seconds he seemed to be listening to something, but no one was speaking. The ambassador nodded several times, then spoke again. "Ah, yes, I see," he said. "I will go to my government and suggest that they back your proposal."

The American ambassador stood next. "Perhaps we should propose additional measures."

"And what would those be?" Carpathia asked.

"I just had the thought that maybe we should consider drafting a plan to turn military control over to the United Nations. We are not safe as long as the world is an armed camp."


"Why that sounds like a wonderful idea," Carpathia replied. "I do not think I could have said it better myself."

"I second that motion," the British ambassador said.

The video abruptly ended. Rob, Dawn, and the bartender sat in silence, staring at the blank screen. Dawn was the first to find her voice.

"What the hell was that?"