Insert generic disclaimers here.
	Note: I see no point in figuring out who all is going to get drawn 
into this, though I know I'll be pulling in Sailor Moon.  Suggestions 
welcomed, and if they come with offers to preread I'll be even happier.

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High Times
By Ryo Hoshi

Prologue One

     It all started in a basement lab.  It wasn't one of those nice, legal 
ones, though it might, on its best day, pass for a legal lab on a very bad 
day.  This was an illegal one, churning out lovely hallucinogens and 
narcotics by the kilo.  Most of the lab did, however, look modern.
     This is probably why the anachronism in the center of the room was so 
startling.
     Three women, wearing long black cloaks with large hoods pulled over 
their faces and black gloves covering their hands were stirring a caldron and 
chanting something that sounded suspiciously like Shakespeare, or a borrowing 
from the Necronomicon.  Possibly, even, both.
     Whatever it was and wherever it was from, it sounded dire and 
appropriate for three strange witches stirring a caldron that contained such 
things as dead baby, skinned cat, and deadly nightshade.
     Every so often, a dead baby or skinned cat floated to the top, and one 
of the witches would push it down with, well, it was best to think of it as a 
stirrer.
     A dead baby had just bobbed up for the third time when there was a knock 
at the door.  The witches stopped stirring, and turned to look at the door.
	One of the witches said, in a creaking ageless voice, "Come in."  The 
door opened with a groan, and a young well-dressed mad walked in.
	"Hail, witches.  My master sends me to inquire on your progress with 
the potion."
     "It is going well.  It should be ready by the dark of the moon," said 
one witch.
     He looked at the dead baby, who was staring at him.  He could swear that 
it had just blinked.  "Ah, tomorrow night.  That is good."  He decided that 
he wanted out, and fast.  "May She bless you.  Farewell."
     "Farewell," said one witch.  The man bowed, and stepped out of the lab 
into the cold dark night.

     He leaned against the wall and signed in relief.  He didn't like having 
to ally with those witches.  There was an aura of evil about them.  True, 
normally he liked those with an evil aura, but these witches...their auras 
were pure evil.  And how you could never tell who was speaking, never see 
their hands or faces...
     He shuddered, and ran off towards the comforting light of the streets.

     Back in the witches lab, the witches were talking in low tones.
	"Why did you lie to him, sister?"
	"Why did you tell him that it would be a while longer, when it has 
been ready for nine long days?"
	"So this would be finished."
	"This will never be finished."
	"All we need is a soul."
	"Ah!  To have a soul!"
	"Ah!  To live!"
	"Ah!  To be able to love!"
	"But what of power, sisters?"
	"But what of fame, sisters?"
	"But what, dear sisters, of glory?"
	"When will this be ready?"
	"Tomorrow night, when we steal for it a soul!"
	"Tomorrow night, when we steal for it a life!"
	"And then?"
	"Rule.  Glorious rule."
	"We'd best remove the dead babies and the skinned cats.  We don't 
have forever to built it, you know."
	"We have forever."
	"We have forever and a day."
	"Oh, yes, I keep forgetting that."
	"We have an extra day?"
	"Shut up and help me with this dead baby."

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Notes: Don't ask what it is about the dead babies.  I'm not sure myself.
     As for the witches, and their conversation at the end of this part, the 
witches speak with one voice.  Not in chorus, but with the same voice, coming 
from one place, and never a way to tell who's speaking.  I'm doing this 
because, frankly, I'm not going to take this seriously if I can help it.
	C&C wanted, flames C&Ced, encouragement loved, and psychoanalysis 
needed for me, not the fic.


		--Ryo Hoshi
The Possessor of Sacred Socks