Hello fellow ficies,
It's been awhile, but I've decided to repost one
of my original works I posted back a few months
ago, that is a pre-fic to Terrible Things.
As always, C&C of any nature is appreciated.
Also, I'd like to dedicate this story to Catbert,
the evil lord of fanfics, who's original fics
I've come to love.
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. After a
few minutes, a man dressed in a white wool jacket and creased
trousers passed by, catching the drunkard's attention;
"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.
"I said please."
The man stopped dead in his tracks, and his eyes opened up as
he heard this, they found him. 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
turned onto his back and could see the determined face of the
drunkard on top of him. The crowds of people in the streets
made way for the two combatants as they went flying around.
Through the streets they went, crashing into anything in the way
as the drunkard hammered upon his opponent.
"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. The fat man
jumped involuntarily. The cursing of two men near by forced the
terrified man to go investigate.
As he reluctantly arose from his chair, two men busted through
the wall 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. He had just grabbed the collar of the white
jacket as the fat man could see the reflection of a long thick
blade on his right hand. With his blade poised and readied to
strike an unexpected flash of light engulfed the two. Within a
split second the two disappear as the flash of the light faded.
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 were drowned out by the
TV blurting out old jokes and pre-recorded laughs.
----------------------------------------
The sagebrush and cactus needles swayed gently with the wind
carrying conversations in 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 arid country side. A
gleam of light appeared over the summit on one of the plateaus,
expanding, growing brighter. From this glowing light, two men
emerged falling onto the edge, struggling with each other. The
light dissipated, revealing a man with black hair on top of a
man wearing a tattered white jacket.
The black haired man, with his silver bladed right arm, readied
himself to strike his victim below. Fortunately the man rolled
away in time as the blade imbedded itself in the rock of the
plateau. Losing his balance, the black haired aggressor fell
over the edge. The other man adjusted his the tattered jacket
as he got up and glared at the struggling man awkwardly hanging
by his blade.
"Damn timelords! How dare you attack me! You know you can't
win. The Society is now the new order." the man's voice echoed
through the empty space around him, amplifying his rage.
"Oh really, Fitsroy? Not if I have a say in this." the black
haired man spat as he tried valiantly to pull himself up.
"You've been following me? You're more persistent than most
Timelords aren't you," the man began to kick the blade loose
from the rock, "It doesn't matter, because of you I can finally
brag to the my Society brethren that I killed a Timelord."
As he kicked the blade, the black haired man grabbed his foot.
Using it to hold himself up as the his bladed hand melted into a
claw. He then 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
knocked him back down with a punch. 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.
THUD. A lifeless silence followed.
"Thank you very much," the black haired man sneered 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. Signing, the Timelord 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 resulting blank screen
appeared in front of him awaiting his dictation.
"To the members of the Counsule from timelord Tracer," the
black haired man smirked as his words appeared 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 bringing along
the grains of sand from the desert outside the Communty. He
could fell the small grains lick his face as he idly brushed his
hand through his rather long jet black hair.
Tracer loved this place with its white almost glowing walls.
The color may have been bland but the intensity of white from
the rectangular buildings made him feel warm. A warmth he
rarely felt in the dark, filthy places he routinely patrolled
with rodents as his only company.
As Tracer moved along down the main road, the curved, dome
structure of the Counsule's building came into view. Eventually
the two of the four cone structures surrounding the dome
structure became visible as well. The cone structures rested
upon the corners of the central square around the Counsule
Building with each of the main roads leading to each side of the
square.
Tracer could never forget the history of the Community, one of
the few things he remembered from his education of history. To
his people, the Community symbolized 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 had achieved
great technologically advancements and prospered greatly. At
this time, his race had begun to toy with the secrets of
universe thus causing the accident that ripped a hole through
space and time. The resulting blast decimated most of the
population, but bestowed the survivors with the ability to inter
dimensional time travel. Unfortunately most of the survivors
died because their blood had turned slowly to poisonous mercury
as a side effect of the Accident, but one man had saved them
from total elimination. Through history and folklore, he had
many nicknames, but the most commonly used was Overlord. He
pioneered a biotechnology that used the mercury as fuel and
could be integrated into their living tissue. Thus the
travellers lived on, making Overlord their savior, and became
legendary in his people's history. These people banded together
to create a sanctuary, a home, eventually calling themselves the
Community. Some even say that Overlord's spirit still can be
felt around in the Community.
Peace prevailed for a time, until the Great War began. The
Nomads, travellers who refused to join the Community, invaded to
gain the biotechnology, a science that would ensure their
survival. Tracer further knowledge of the War was vagued at
best since it ended shortly before his born. He remembered,
though, that many travellers sacrificed their lives to defeat
the Nomads as well as devasting the other dimensions dragged
into the conflict. The effects of this war had such a
destructive impact that the Counsule made the Passive Travel
Decree. This decree declared that no time traveller could be
outside the Community. As a result the Temporal Flux Network
(TFN) was created over the Community to keep track of the
comings and goings of any from the Community. To help enforce
the decree, the timelord would patrol the dimensions for anyone
outside the Community, and face prompt execution, or even worse
excommunication. One would rather face death than
excommunication for they would never again be able to gain
access to the Community and be left with the wrath of the
remaining Nomads.
The decree made it possible for one legal way out of the
Community, credits. A traveller would earn credits by doing
specialized skilled service for the Counsule. Any level of
skill could earn credits but innovators and engineers had the
most value to the Counsule. Unfortunately if someone had a
skill very common or useless to the Counsule, the person
wouldn't be able to earn enough credits to leave. The Community
would become their prison.
Not very long after the Great War, the Society began to
surface. Tracer paused in the middle of the path and closed his
eyes. His hatred and dislike for them ran deep. The Society
signaled the coming chaos that would ruin his peaceful world.
Their dishonorable and mysterious nature made it his job to get
information about them extremely difficult. So much so, he
relished eliminating each and everyone one of them.
"Bastards." He whispered to himself as he resumed his way to
the Counsule Building.
He opened his eyes with a renewed vigor in his step as he
realized his duty bestowed upon him by the Counsule as a
Timelord.
Destroy the Society to protect the Counsule, for the good of
the Community.
Unfortunately, the Society had successfully avoided exposure, except
for their purpose, to rebel against the Counsule. The Counsule
depended greatly on their bio-tech enhanced soldiers, Timelords, to
get more information on this very elusive Society.
Tracer, of course, found great pride as being the most
effective Timelord. Though he could be reckless at times, the
ends justified the means. His track record included being the
first to learn that the an ex-general from the Great War leads
the Society, and the Society had something big planned on the
horizon. Now he another accomplishment to add to his list, a
name of a higher officer, Xendyte.
Tracer finally approached the square where the Counsule
building sat. Tracer passed between the two cone structures as
he reached the blank wall of the domed structure. A flat screen
appeared on the blank wall with the image of a digitally
rendered face studying the intruder standing before it.
"Identification number and rank please." the image of the face
barked out irritatably over the com link.
"10578, Timelord class." Tracer stated with a relaxed and
confident tone.
The manner of the face changed, "Oh sorry, um, Tracer. The
Counsule has been expecting you."
The image disppeared as an outline of a door frame appeared,
opening to reveal a hall. The hall had a low arched ceiling and
went for about 20 feet where before forking in two directions.
Tracer went right and passed through a series sensors that
covered every angle possible in the bowels of the building.
These sensors feed into the highly advanced Artificial
Intelligence (AI) defense system that had eyes in every room.
Alerted to everyone's presence in the building, the AI could
actually morph the halls to trap any intruders and dispatch
guards to the appropriate areas. Such precautions were taken
for two reasons; first of all the Counsule ran all it's
operations out of here; and second they had living quarters
located here.
Tracer kept walking till the hall opened up to the large main
wall where two large centurions stood guard during the
Counsule's sessions. Tracer looked at them both addressing them
accordingly;
"Hey it's Curly and Moe." Tracer smirked.
Having just come from the 20th century, Tracer presumed the
centurions wouldn't know what he meant. A loud disapproving
grunt from the large centurion on his right apparently proved
his assumption wrong. Tracer coughed loudly to save whatever
dignity he had left.
"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.
Once it opened, Tracer could see within the brightly lit
Counsule's Chambers. Tracer walked towards the court in front
of a panel of raised seats of the five elders of the Counsule.
Each elder wore a brilliant white robes making them seem almost
divine. The seats had different levels of height similar to a
pyramid, with the two outside being the lowest and the one in
the middle being the highest. Within the highest raised seat
sat the head elder of the Counsule, Nairb. The head elder
looked at Tracer inquisitively and nodded at him respectively
before addressing him.
"Ah, Timelord Tracer. We hear you have an update on the
Society situation." the head elder folded his hands in front of
himself awaiting the news.
"Yes I have come closer to identifying the leader." Tracer
tried to sound as dignified as possible.
"And what is it you have?" the high elder smiled kindly.
"I have a name of a superior officer, Xendyte." Tracer noticed
the elder flinch a little when he mentioned her name.
"I see," the elder's tone change subtly.
"I haven't had a chance to look into her profile yet." Tracer
blurted out quickly feeling the tension weigh upon him.
"Very well. Look into this and report to us as soon as you get
more information."
An odd pause followed.
"If you will excuse me, I was wondering if you could tell me
more about my father. Has any news come out about him?" Tracer
asked humbly.
The elder looked relieved at the change of subject, but
addressed it sensitively, "Well, you're father hasn't been found
yet, is that right Naes?"
The elder to his left side nodded and formally spoke, "Yes,
that is correct head elder Nairb. I'm sorry to say, but nothing
more has surfaced about Tracer's father, 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 after
he left."
A disheartened Tracer averted the eyes of the Counsule, he
never really liked reminiscing.
Nairb immediately comforted him, "But let's not bring up old
dirt like this, he was a great general in the war, 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 wanted to find that
ex-general of the Society, to make him pay for all he had done.
------------------------------------------------------
Tracer wandered down the main road where many open air shops
bartered and sold food, weapons, books, and other odd objects to
any passers by. Tracer kept wandering until he came along to a
familiar shop and entered. Once inside the shop, Tracer noticed
all the trinkets, weapons, and dusty books that adorn the walls.
As Tracer waited, he noticed a small statute of Overlord
displayed near the back of the shop. The various fancy
adornments around the statute indicated to Tracer that it was a
shrine. Though most religions originating from other dimensions
had been banned along with travel by the Passive Travel Decree,
the Counsule allowed open worship of the Overlord. Of course
this didn't stop the upper castes who travelled more frequently
to honor their own gods or goddesses in private.
Tracer took a closer look at the other objects placed infront
of the statute, some gold, flowers, and a long object,
resembling a sword, covered in linen cloth. Somehow, he felt
drawn to this covered object, for reasons unknown to himself, as
he slowly reached for it.
"Oh, hello Tracer. I've been expecting you," Tracer retracked
his hand from the shrine and turned to be faced with a smiling
old man.
Tracer immediately noted his thin white goatee and even whiter
hair as the trademark of his comrade
"You say that everytime I come in here, Briar." Tracer smiled
back.
Tracer considered the shop keeper as one of the only people he
could honestly say he trusted. Briar, on many occasions, had
helped him with a few of his problems with his 'special' AI he
owned. Besides, he always gave Tracer great bargains on
weapons.
"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's face soured, "What's wrong with you? You know such
machines are illegal to possess."
"Oh right, you're a Timelord. Have to up hold the law, and
all," Briar's 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 walked over to the shrine and picked up the linen
covered object. Whisking back around the old man offered the
object to Tracer. Anxiously, Tracer pulled back some of the
rags to reveal a wooden hilt. Once Tracer touched the hilt he
immediately felt a jolt, 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, smiling abroad.
"What is this?" Tracer's eyes glazed over with wonderment.
"Something wonderful," the old man gave Tracer an acute wink,
"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 murmured 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 ripped the rags off the
concealed object.
Tracer beheld the sword, noting its sharp smooth crystal blade.
His eyes followed down the blade until it flowered out near the
hilt. The hilt itself 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 had been set dead center in the hilt's
handle. A strange object, none the less, but the strangest
quality had to be the sword's soft white aura.
'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 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's 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. Of
course, Tracer would much prefer patrolling than living in the
complex. Tracer frowned as he passed the dirty and cheaply
built walls of the structure. The poorly lit halls reeked with
a heavy, rotting smell causing Tracer's nose to twitch.
Finally, Tracer reached a section of familiar blank wall and
put his hand on a certain location. After waiting a few seconds
for the computer to verify, an outline of a door appeared and
opened to let him in.
Tracer's quarters could hardly be called spacious, but he
didn't mind since he travelled light anyway. Glancing out his
small windows, Tracer could see of the cone structures from the
square.
Tracer then noticed his dim confines 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 squinted at the brightness of the
light.
"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 chair that hovered
a foot off the floor. In front of him sat a streamline desk
with a few objects astrune carelessly upon its surface. Amongst
the objects on his desk, Tracer picked up a small, thin device
with various colored buttons along its length. Tracer pushed
the button near the bottom, causing a screen to appear 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.
Tracer knew well the voice of his personal AI, Avex. Everyone
of the timelords had an AI, but they paled in comparison to the
newer complicated AI in the Counsule Building. Tracer's AI,
though, had one major difference to both. He had 'salvaged' it
from an abandoned space ship he stumbled upon during one of his
patrols. It could talk back and think rather independently,
unlike the issued AIs from the Counsule.
Tracer sighed, "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
leaned back in his floating chair and relaxed.
A few moments later the voice interrupted Tracer's peaceful
reprieve.
"Here's the information." the voice spoke confidently.
"Uh-huh." Tracer leaned close to the screen, studying the
writing and pictures on it.
Tracer read all of Xendyte's bio, hoping to find something that
would connect her to the Society. Who she knew, what she
learned, her likes and dislikes, anything. After some reading,
he learned of her prosperous upbringing; she had attended the
best education centers, she had excelled in time stream history,
and she was dead.
"Wait a minute." he murmured to himself as he leaned in even
further to investigate the information of the screen.
Tracer touched a certain area of the screen and another window
popped into view with the information of Xendyte's death. It
seemed her family had attempted to travel to another time when a
band of Nomads attacked them. Slaughtering everyone.
"Avex, was Xendyte's death confirmed? Did they have an
identifiable body?" Tracer asked.
"Yes." it responded quickly.
Tracer didn't feel right about the whole thing, there had to be
more to this than met the eye. Finally, Tracer popped up
Xendyte's image, an image of her during her youth, about
mid-adolescents. She had blond hair, dark blue eyes, looked
exceptionally pretty for a young girl. Tracer studied her image
for a moment and got an idea.
"Avex, age her image to about my physical age." Tracer ordered.
The picture morphed until Avex finished its task. The new
image shocked Tracer. He couldn't help but ogle the newly
transformed image of a woman. A stunning woman, to say the
least with her very wide sparkling blue eyes, that almost glowed
with life. Her hair stayed short, but still Tracer couldn't
believe how strikingly good she appeared. She looked as if she
had a playful and friendly expression on her face, full of life.
Of course, Avex could not predict any outside factors that
could have 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. At the time, Tracer didn't think
much of it, 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." He
murmured.
End of part 2
All original characters are owned and copyrighted (c) 1998 by Bastion.
Please let me know what you think, and thanks for reading.
Bastion
bastion@ix.netcom.com