Subject: [FFML][fanfic][ORG] Timelords: parts 1&2
From: Sebastion Fitsroy
Date: 4/11/1998, 10:12 PM
To: "'ffml@fanfic.com'" <ffml@fanfic.com>
CC: "'bastion@ix.netcom.com'" <bastion@ix.netcom.com>



Hey once again my beloved FFML,
This is a repost of an original story I posted waaayyyy back in
July.  It's not Ranma, (the audience gasp in shock),
it's original, yes, but please bear with it, I worked really hard on it.
I've made a few subtle changes to it, so C&C or other constructive 
(or destructrive for that manner) and creative criticism on this is very welcomed.

Timelords

Part 1: The Hunt Begins



	The sweltering heat of a Houston night didn't phase the party
goers as they stumbled from club to club guided by the gaudy
lights.  The whole scene had an aged feel.  The ancient trees
lurched forth from the sidewalks running along the wide street. 
Once proud homes now fall apart from neglect.  Underneath the
flickering light of a streetlamp sat a dirty man bundled in
ragged clothing.  His old hat hiding his long black greasy hair
was nearly as dirty as his beard.  The filthy man took a few
tries to bat away a few greasy strands of hair from his face as
the people passed by catching quick glimpses.  But the man
didn't care as he just sat there, waiting patiently.  The
drunkard's attention was drawn to a man dressed in a white wool
jacket and creased trousers;

	"Eeex-cuish me.  Could yoou give a' down man a donaishin?"  the
drunkard slurred as he got right in the well dressed man's face.

	"Why would I give you crap?" the man made a sour face as he
smelled the drunkard's rotten breath.

	"Pleasish?"  the drunkard's face softened and tried to plead
his case further.

	"Whatever." the well dressed man pushed the drunkard out of his
way roughly as he made his way to the night club just down the
block.  

	As the man turned his back and readjusted his white jacket, the
demeanor of the drunkard changed from slouched to rigid as he
growled soberly under his breath towards the man walking away.

	"I said please."  

	The man's eyes opened up as he heard this, he knew he was
caught.  As the man in the white jacket reached inside his
jacket to get his gun, the drunkard tackled him making the gun
fly out of his hand.  The man in the jacket was on his back and
could see the determined face of the drunkard on top of him,
meaning he was in trouble.  The crowds of people in the streets
made way for the two combatants as they went flying around and
through the streets crashing into anything in the way as the
drunkard laid down hard punches to the other.  

	"Someone call the police!  He's going to kill him!"  someone
yelled.

	It didn't matter as the man in the ragged clothes tossed the
other through a fence into a backyard.  There the fight
continued.

	Through a cracked window, nothing much could be seen except the
silhouette of an obese  man dressed in just his underwear and
T-shirt engrossed in the program on his TV as he squirmed in the
comforting arms of his lazyboy chair.  A loud crash from his
backyard made the man pause.  He looked for its source from the
safety of his chair when he heard another crash making the fat
man jump involuntarily.  The cursing of two men near by forced
the terrified fat man to go investigate.   As the fat man
reluctantly arose from his chair, two men busted through the
wall to his left and landed directly between him and the TV.  A
man with long black hair had just pinned down a beaten man in a
torn white jacket and had just grabbed the collar of the white
jacket.  The fat man could see the reflection of a long thick
blade on the right hand of the black haired man that was
position to strike.

	"ARRGGHHHH!"  the man on top screamed in anger as they were
engulfed in a bright light and disappeared before the blade
could strike.

	The fat man just stared at the rumble on his living room floor,
the only evidence left of the two intruders as the sounds of
ambulances and a panicked crowd nearby are drowned out by the TV
blurting out old jokes and pre-recorded laughs.



	The wind blowing through the sagebrush and cactus needles was
the only noise that broke the silence of the desert.  The heat
of the sun beat down upon the out cropping of cliffs, big jagged
hills, and plateaus scattered through the country side.  A gleam
of light appeared over the summit on one of the plateaus which
expanded and grew brighter.  It kept growing until two men
emerged on the edge struggling with each other.  The light
dissipated to reveal a man with black hair on top of another
with a tattered white jacket.  The black haired man was in the
motion of striking his victim underneath him with a silver blade
that grew out of his right arm.  The man below rolled a little
evading the strike making the blade imbed itself in the rock of
the plateau.  The black haired man lost his balance and fell off
the edge.  The black haired hung from his bladed hand awkwardly
and moved to face the edge as best as he could.  The man in the
tattered jacket got up and looked down at the struggling man
trying to get up.

	"Damn timelords!  How dare you attack me!    You know you can't
win.  The Society is now the new order."  the man screams were
echoed through the empty space around him as the black haired
tried to pull himself up.

	"Oh really, Fitsroy?  Not if I have a say in this."  the black
haired man spat out as he tried valiantly to pull himself.

	"You've been following me?  You're more persistent than most
timelords aren't you.  I guess I can now brag I killed a
timelord to the my Society brethren."  the man said as he tried
to kick the blade loose from the rock.

	Suddenly the black haired man saw an opportunity and grabbed
the other man's foot and used it to hold himself for a moment as
the his bladed hand melted into a claw.  He let go of the other
man's foot and dug the claw into the edge of the rock.  Fitsroy
fell backwards and the black haired man pulled himself up onto
the plateau's summit.  The man on the ground tried to get up but
the black haired man quickly put him back down with a
bareknuckled punch to his face.  He immediately pounced upon
Fitsroy and brought the silver claw to his face.

	"Now tell me who your leader is!"  the black haired man
demanded.

	"I won't tell you crap!"  Fitsroy shouted back nervously.

	"You don't and I'll kill you right now, ya bastard!"  the claw
was being brought closer to Fitsroy's face.

	Fitsroy now started to sweat a little looking nervously at the
claw just a few centimeters from his face, "Ok!  I don't know
much,"  the claw was advanced further and Fitsroy cringed, "All
I know is my superior's a woman."

	The black haired man put the sharp tips of the claw right on
Fitsroy's trembling face, "A name.  I need a name!"

	"It's Xendyte!"  Fitsroy screamed in agony as he felt the tips
start to puncture his skin.

	"Good now we're on a roll.  Who's your leader?"  the silver
claw pushed in a little deeper.

	"I swear I don't know.  All I know is Xendyte is my superior!" 
tears streamed down from his face as he felt the claw dig deeper
into his face.

	The black haired man raised his claw above his head away from
the other's face, "Thanks."

	With that the black haired man quickly brought down the claw
into Fitsroy's face with a low thud, before he could make a
sound.

	"Thank you very much."  said the black haired man as he cleaned
the red liquid shot with silver threads off his claw on the
deceased Fitsroy's white jacket.

	The black haired man looked around at the mountainous desert
from the view atop the plateau.  The black haired man signed as
he idly brushed away a lock of his hair from his face.

	He looked down at his wrist and pressed a button on a device
that looked similar to a watch.  The result was a blank screen
appearing in front of the man awaiting his commands.

	"To the members of the Counsule from timelord Tracer,"  the
black haired man smirked as his dictated words would appear on
the screen, "I have some new information concerning the Society."Timelords

Part 2: The Drone and the Mystery



	Tracer made his way through the clear and clean streets of his
home, the Community.  The wind picked up a little as he passed
an alleyway and he brushed his hand through his rather long jet
black hair idly.  Tracer loved this place with its white almost
glowing walls.  Not much color to the place but the intensity of
white from the rectangular buildings made him feel warm,
considering he routinely hunted in dark gloomy places with filth
and rodents as his only company.

	The curved, dome structure of the Counsule's building was
visible to Tracer from the main road he was walking.  Two of the
four cone structures surrounding the dome structure were also
visible over the rigid and rectangular buildings that huddled
around the four main roads leading to the Counsule's building,
making the Counsule's building the center of this Community.

	Tracer always remembered the story behind the Community, it was
one of the few things he remembered from his formal education of
history.  The Community was a symbol of the beliefs of one
being's push for order in the anarchy that followed the Genesis
Accident, an accident that had many lasting effects.  

	At the time of the Genesis Accident his race was very
technologically advanced and had prospered greatly.  They were
toying with the secrets of universe when this accident ripped a
hole through space and time decimating most of the population
and bestowed the survivors with the ability to inter dimensional
time travel.  Yet most of the survivors died because their blood
had turned slowly to poisonous mercury as an after effect of the
Accident, but fortunately one man had saved them from total
elimination.  That man was known by many nicknames, but the most
commonly used name was Overlord.  He pioneered the biotechnology
that used the mercury as fuel and could be integrated into their
living tissue.  Thus the travellers lived on and made Overlord
their savior, and became legendary in his people's history.  
They were people dedicated to helping each other and living
peacefully calling themselves the Community.  Some even say that
Overlord's spirit still can be felt around in the Community. 

	That was until the Great War came.  The Nomads, travellers who
refused to join the Community, invaded to gain the
biotechnology, the Community's secret for surviving the mercury
poisoning their bodies.  Tracer didn't know much about it
because it happened just before he was born, but he did know
that many travellers sacrificed their lives to defeat the Nomads
as well as the lives of others in the dimensions involved,
forever scarring their worlds.  The effects of this war were so
devastating, the Counsule made the Passive Travel Decree.  This
decree declared that no time traveller could be outside the
Community, and the Temporal Flux Network (TFN) over the
Community kept track of the comings and goings of any from the
Community.  If a traveller was caught outside the Community by a
timelord they were executed, or even worse excommunicated. 
Being excommunicated was worst than death because one would
never again be able to gain access to the Community and leaving
them to the wrath of the remaining Nomads.  The only legal way
out of the Community was to gain enough credits, and when a
traveller was out in the time stream involvement was suppose to
be kept at a minimum.  The credits were earned by doing
specialized skilled service for the Community.   Any level of
skill could earn credits but innovators and engineers were more
highly valued.  Unfortunately it had one major down fall in that
if someone was skilled in an area already flooded the person
wouldn't be able to earn enough credits to leave, making the
Community their prison.  

	After the Great War, peace returned when the Society reared its
ugly head.  Tracer paused in the middle of the path and closed
his eyes, he really disliked them and what they stood for.   The
Society were the coming sign of chaos that would ruin his
peaceful world.  They were dishonorable and mysterious, it was
his job to get all the information he could and eliminate them. 
Tracer then resumed his way to the Counsule building as he
opened his eyes with a renewed vigor in his step.  That was his
duty bestowed upon him by the Counsule as a timelord.

	Very little was known of this Society except they were created
sometime just after the Great War and that they were planning a
rebellion.  The Counsule depended on the timelords to get more
information on this very elusive Society.  Timelords were well
trained and cunning soldiers.  Tracer, of course, was the most
effective timelord out there, reckless at times, but the ends
justified the means.  He was the first to learn that the leader
of this Society was an ex-general from the Great War, and that
they were planning something big.  Now he had a name of a higher
officer, Xendyte.  

	Tracer approached the square where the Counsule building sat. 
Tracer passed between the two cone structures on either side of
him finally reaching the blank wall of the domed structure.  A
flat screen appeared on the blank wall with the image of a face
studying the intruder standing before it.  

	"Identification number and rank please."  the gruff image of
the AI barked out irritated over the com link.

	"10578, Timelord class."  Tracer said relaxed and confident.

	The manner of the face changed, "Oh sorry, um, Tracer.  The
Counsule has been expecting you."

	With that an outline of a door frame appeared and opened to
reveal a hall.  The hall had a low arched ceiling and went for
about 20 feet where it forked.  Tracer took the one that went
right and passed through a series sensors that covered every
angle possible in the bowels of the building.  It feed into the
highly advanced Artificial Intelligence (AI) defense system that
had eyes in every room.  It was alerted to everyone's presence
in the building and the AI could actually morph the halls to
trap any intruders and dispatch guards to the area.  Such
precautions were taken for two reasons; first of all the
Counsule ran all it's operations out of here; and second they
have living quarters located here.  

	Tracer kept walking till the hall opened up to the large main
wall where two large guards stood guard while the Counsule was
in session.  Tracer looked at them both addressing them
accordingly,

	"Hey it's Curly and Moe."  Tracer said slyly.  He had just come
from the 20th century and was presuming they wouldn't know what
he meant.  Apparently a loud disapproving grunt from the large
guard on his right proved his assumption wrong.  Tracer looked
at them both a little embarrassed but kept his cool.

	"Anyway the Counsule wanted to see me,"  a moment of silence,
"um, I'm the timelord Tracer, 10578?"

	The two guards slowly moved and a huge door frame appeared and
opened to the brightly lit Counsule's Chambers.  Tracer walked
towards the court in front of a panel in raised seats where five
old people in brilliant white robes were waiting.  The seats had
different levels of height like a pyramid, with the two outside
being the lowest and the one in the middle being the highest. 
The highest raised seat was where the head elder of the Counsule
sat.  The head elder looked at Tracer inquisitively and nodded
at him respectively before addressing him.

	"Well Tracer we hear you have an update on the Society
situation."  said the head elder.

	"Yes I have come closer to identifying the leader."  Tracer
informed in a dignified soldier manner.

	"And what is it you have?"  said the high elder kindly.

	"Well I have a name of a superior officer."  Tracer said still
respectfully, "Xendyte." 

	Tracer noticed the elder flinch a little when he mentioned her
name.

	"I see."  the elder's tone change subtly as he said this

 	"I haven't had a chance to look into her profile yet."  Tracer
said quickly feeling the tension weigh upon him.

	"Very well, go and look into this and report as soon as you get
more information." the elder looked rather nervous as he said
this leaving an odd pause.

	"If you will excuse me but I was wondering if you could tell
about my father.  I was just wondering if anything new has come
out about him?"  Tracer asked humbly.

	The elder looked relieved at the change of subject and
addressed it sensitively, "Well, you're father hasn't been found
yet, is that right Naes?"  

	The elder to his left side nodded and said in an official tone,
"Yes, that is correct head elder Nairb.  I'm sorry to say, but
nothing more has surfaced about Trekker."

	The head elder turned back to Tracer, "You have to remember
you're father was an ex-general in the Great War.  Maybe he had
some shellshock after your birth and had to go somewhere to get
himself together.  But your poor mother though was too
heartbroken to believe that he could leave you behind at such a
young age.  That also could explain why she died so soon he
left."

	A disheartened Tracer averted the eyes of the Counsule, he
wasn't one to remember the past.  Nairb immediately noticed
Tracer's sudden change of mood and comforted him, "But let's not
bring up old dirt like this, he was a great ex-general in the
war and be proud of that.  Don't think about it anymore, we'll
take care of it for you."

	Tracer now looked into the eyes of the head elder again with
determination burning in his soul.  He was going to find where
this ex-general, and make him pay for all he had done.



	Tracer left the Counsule Building to where many open air shops
that lined the arid main road, bartering and selling food,
weapons, books, and other odd objects to any passers by.  
Tracer came along to a familiar shop down the road and entered. 
The inside of the shop was adorn with trinkets, weapons, and
dusty books.  Tracer looked around till he saw an old man with a
thin white goatee with even whiter hair greet him;

	"Oh, hello Tracer I've been expecting you."  the old man smiled
playfully.

	"You say that everytime I come in here, Briar."  Tracer smiled
back, the shop keeper was one of the only non-timelord associate
he knew.  He had, on many occasions, helped him with a few of
his problems with his 'special' AI he own, and besides, he
always gave Tracer great bargains on weapons.  Briar was one of
the very select few who he trusted for help. 

	"So you have anything worth speaking about?"  Tracer asked
leisurely.

	"Since you asked, I'm going on a salvage run.  I could get you
a few rare manuals on various weapons, machines," the old man
smiled, "And free thinking AIs."

	Tracer gave the old man a rather scolding look as he responded,
"What's wrong with you?  Don't you know such machines are
illegal to sell."

	"Oh right, you're a timelord.  Have to up hold the law, and
all."  the old man's smiling face then changed to a solemn
expression, "Considering your reputation as a highly regarded
timelord I wanted you to do something for me."

	The old man once again turned around and rummaged through some
items out of Tracer's sight.  The old man turned around to offer
Tracer a long object covered in rags.  Tracer pulled back some
of the rags to reveal a wooden hilt.   Once Tracer touched the
hilt he immediately was jolted with a sense of being with one
with the sword.  It flooded his senses with something he hadn't
felt before.  He couldn't quite identify it but it felt. . . 
good.  Tracer recovered from this new surge of energy and turned
to the old man once more who was smiling abroad.

	"What is this?"  Tracer questioned in wonderment.

	"Something wonderful."  the old man gave Tracer a knowing look,
"It's something that I want you take care of for me while go on
my salvage run."

	"Man, how ever did I meet you?"  Tracer smiled at Briar holding
the hilt as Briar ushered him towards the door.

	"Maybe it's the spirit or good fortune of the Overlord?"  With
that Briar gestured the half dazed Tracer out the doorway.  The
shutting door finally brought Tracer back to reality.  Tracer
blinked, taking a moment to ponder what had just transgressed,
before he excitedly pulled the rags off the concealed object.

	It had a sharp smooth crystal blade, until it flowered out near
the hilt.  The hilt seemed to be made of some sort of highly
polished wood with three red jewels imbedded in it.  One jewel
was in one side of the hilt and another directly opposite of the
other while the third was dead center in the hilt's handle.  The
strangest quality about the sword was it had a soft glow.  

	'Odd, very odd.' he thought.  Tracer now in reflection now had
mixed feelings about this sword.  'Could the side effects to
these feelings be deadly?' he reasoned in his mind further.

	'Just trust your true feelings about the sword Tracer.'  a
voice echoed in his head.

	Tracer shook his head in puzzlement and gazed at the sword in
his hands.  What were his feelings deep down inside about this
object?  They seemed comforting and whole.  

	'So then what was stopping me from keeping it.'  Tracer thought.



	Tracer left the shop with his new sword hanging on his hip as
made his way to the Timelord Complex.  The complex, obvious
enough, housed timelords while they weren't patrolling, but
Tracer would much prefer patrolling than the complex.  Tracer
frowned as he passed the dirty and cheaply built walls of the
complex when finally reached a section of familiar blank wall. 
Tracer put his hand on a certain location and waited a few
seconds for the computer to verify it was him.  Suddenly an
outline of a door appeared and opened to let him in.  Tracer's
quarters were rather small, but Tracer didn't mind it too much
because he travelled light anyway.  He had a window in which one
of the cone structures from the square could be seen.  Tracer
looked around in the dim room and commanded, "Room turn on
luminescence in panels c-3 and c-4."

	With that command two panels in the ceiling started to make a
fluorescent glow.  Tracer looked up displeased for a moment at
the lighting.

	"Who is the damn fool who sets these things,"  Tracer mumbled
to himself, "Room, put light in default intensity."

	With that the light became more of a natural glow.  Tracer
signed with satisfaction and sat down at his antigrav chair that
hovered a foot off the floor.  In front of him was a streamline
desk with a few objects sitting on it and picked up a small,
thin device with various colored buttons on it from amongst the
objects.  Tracer pushed one near the bottom and a screen
appeared over the desk.  The screen glowed independent of any
device and awaited its owner's orders.  

	"Hello and how was your day, Tracer."  a voice from somewhere
near the screen came, it was Tracer's personal AI, Avex. 
Everyone of the timelords had an AI, but they were the more
common variety than the newer complicated AI in the Counsule
Building.  Tracer's AI was different because he 'salvaged' it
from an abandoned space ship that he found on one of his
patrols.  It could talk back and think rather independently,
unlike the issued AIs from the Counsule.

	Tracer signed and answered the screen, "Well, Avex, I killed
one of those bastards, met the Counsule, met with a friend, and
got a nice looking sword from him."

	"When you say 'one of those bastards' you mean a Society
member."  the voice questioned innocently.

	"Of course.  Anyway enough of the chat, Avex, I need all the
files on a person named Xendyte from the archives."  Tracer said
as he leaned back in his floating chair and relaxed.  A few
moments later the voice interrupted Tracer's peaceful moment.

	"Here's the information."  the voice said confidently. 

	"Uh-huh."  Tracer said as he looked at the screen which had
writing and pictures on it. 

	Tracer read all of her bio hoping to find something that would
connect her to the Society, who she knew, what she learned, her
likes and dislikes, anything.  After reading some he learned she
was from a prosperous family, her father excelled at biological
engineering, she attended the best education centers that any of
the dimensions could offer, she excelled and had a liking for
time stream history, and she was dead.  

	"Wait a minute."  he murmured to himself as he leaned in
further investigating the information of the screen.

	He studied that part of her life closer.  Tracer touched the
screen and it popped up the information of Xendyte's death.  It
seemed her family was attacked by a band of Nomads while
traveling to another time.  Everyone was slaughtered. 

	"Avex was Xendyte's death confirmed?  Did they have an
identifiable body?"  Tracer asked his AI.

	"Yes." it responded quickly.

	Tracer didn't feel right about the whole thing, there was more
to this than meets the eye.  Finally Tracer popped up Xendyte's
image.  The image he got was of her in her youth, about
mid-adolescents, she had blond hair, dark blue eyes, looked
exceptionally pretty for a young girl.  Tracer looked at her
image for a moment and got an idea.

	"Avex age her image to about my physical age."  Tracer ordered.

	The picture was morphed and when it finished Tracer was taken
back.  The newly transformed image was of a stunning woman, to
say the least.  Her eyes were opened very wide and her blue eyes
glowed.  Her hair stayed short but still he thought that all
together she looked striking good.  She looked as if she had a
playful and friendly expression on her face.  Of course there
was no telling what other outside factors had changed her.  

	'The last thing I need is an infatuation with a dead woman.' 
Tracer thought as he pondered further, 'or supposedly dead, I
mean there has to be more info out there, but Avex is very
thorough in its searches.' 

	Then Tracer remembered one of his fellow timelords saying he
found a restricted archive.  Of course Tracer didn't think much
of it at the time, reasoning it as just a little bit of
sensitive information about everyone.  Now things didn't feel
right.  

	'I guess its time to give my friend Giro a call.'

To be continued. . . 


      If you noticed I don't wait for my characters to get revenge on me [sheepish grin].

All characters and this story is property of me, Bastion (oohhh it feels so good to say
something's mine).  
Thanks for reading!  Remember to send all C&C to bastion@ix.netcom.com, see ya.

Bastion
(Oh, my god! He writes too!)