Wee. Finally getting to this, just under a couple of months late:

I think I'm a reformed Agnostic. But maybe it's Confucianism or Zen or

even Marxism, the faith whose martyr was crucified on an 'M' instead of a
cross to prove his incontestable belief in heavenly change, bringing the god
into your daily outlook, daily life.

Either way, I know I'm not a Jew,

Heh. Interesting one to pick out.

 and yet in this secret, hidden, underground Christmas season where
particularly close families risk ridiculous fines and possible jail time for
giving each other presents worth more than eleven dollars a day from the
beginning of December to waning January, I have menorahs on the brain. I
usually bought small military-issue items from a guy I knew and gave them
out with cards that read, Be Prepared. These days its

% it's

everyone's motto. But this year I was not looking forward to getting
anywhere near Major Mike and his warehouse full of crap that wasn't even
stolen anymore. The season's cheer had swerved to miss me this year.

% Yep. No doubt about that.

I finished the malt in another gulp and threw the bottle behind me. I was

preoccupied enough by my thoughts that I didn't hear the glass shatter.
Which wasn't surprising, given that had I merely raised my head forty-five
degrees, I would have also seen a black dot slowly descending in the distant
sky. I never saw him that night, but the dot was actually a man. He wore
ragged red and black clothing that hung off of

% can drop 'of'

Unlike it's

% its

southern counterpart, the housing districts here actually had houses, with

%t hink you can drop the comma

Then I was through it, and Zig was slowing down, waving his arm at me to

hurry up. For some reason I had never heard him complain about those
terrible sensations I felt while passing through the Portals. He had always
seemed to be immune to things like that.

% Or so he would have you believe.

Convincing myself to take it like a man at least for now and

% like, a...now, and

"I didn't see any alarms the last time I was here so I'm inclined to say

no. But even still, don't touch anything you don't have to."

"Alright, lead the way."

I pulled forward and the two of us rode silently down the faultlessly

maintained driveway bisecting the flawlessly

% immacuately (sp?) might work better than flawlessly.

maintained yard. The gardeners had kept up their work even after it had
become a crime scene. I could tell by the way Zig was looking all around
that he also knew there was something wrong, though he didn't bring it up. I
had sort of expected that the estate would return to normal after Wells'
death but that evidently wasn't the case. The trees, the bushes, even the
damn grass was permeated with that 'lack of life' that had struck me when I
first came here. This was either some demonic Feng Shui or my subconscious
was trying to tell me something.

We took a brick pathway that lead to the right and rode a winding course

through the thicker trees which separated each building. Much smaller than
the mansion sized

% mansioned-sized

house, the garage faced away from us and was

% drop 'was'

"Martha Stewart must be turning in her shallow grave."

We can only wish. :P

I shook my head. "I don't like this at all. Mouth shut, eyes open." I

squeezed the handle of my Beretta and continued to the next room.

The computers and machinery here were untouched. Wading through the junk,

I came up behind the dentist chair that had held my dead ex-parole officer.
It was empty of course, as the cops had searched the place many times by
now. I didn't stop and found the door to the far stairwell on the other side
of the lab. Going up the stairs it

% stairs, it

 occurred to me that the police might have broken or confiscated parts of
the merusion chamber,

% Nah. They had no interest in it.

"You're climbing in there?" Zig asked.

"Yeah, that's the idea." I took of

% off

my jacket and threw it on a desk chair in the corner of the cramped room. I
walked over and put a hand inside; it was getting warm. The liquid oxygen
coolant would keep it below a hundred degrees during a normal merusion;
under these conditions I didn't know what to expect. Zig turned a large dial
and set the fry-time to 48 minutes. The lowest setting marked. I swallowed
hard.

"I'm gonna make sure you're good in there and then take a walk around the

grounds. Make sure we don't get interrupted or anything. I'll be back before
you're out."

% Heh. Just asking for trouble now.

The next three quarters of an hour were bad. I had long since been able to

disassociate pain with muscle clenching, and I knew I would need my
strength. As the lasers worked their way up my body, irradiating my nervous
system with combinations of e.m. waves not normally found in the spectrum, I
closed my eyes and thought about Alethea. Would she be pleased to see me
when I came? Or would she look away and change the subject, as if my effort
had been more of the macho bullshit she seemed to hate. I didn't know. Days
ago the thought wouldn't even have occurred to me, but that and a lot more
had begun to change in my mind. There was something about her I realized,
and it was rooted deeper than just her contempt for my fighting. Was she as
preoccupied as she let on, or was it just that inability to deal with
situations she wasn't in control of?

% Probably both.

In the pain and delirium that always accompanies merusion, I must have

dozed off because I remember suddenly noticing that the lasers had stopped
and the chamber was getting cool. I slid my arms up across my stomach and
could tell much of the hair had been singed off.

% Most women like bare men anyway.

My legs had grown cramped and numb. Instead of the painful tightness that

usually causes, more sensation was coming from my heart which was beating
very fast. Since I had not undergone any great exertion for the past hour,
it was partially confusing. I say partially because if there had ever been
an experience to cruelly play with ones internals, the chamber would be it.
Sometimes people even came out dead. And not from the radiation.

% Ouch.

Well, one that's always been there.

Hmm

My stomach settled reluctantly. My tired arms straightened out and lay at

my sides. I lowered my eyebrows and peered through the shadow at the granite
slab three inches from my face.

Was it there.?

Yes! After a spurt of static, the ambient reticence rose in pitch to an

high

% a high

It was unlocked. I didn't know whether Zig had gotten careless or just

absent, but this wasn't a good sign. All I had to do was find him and we
could go.

C'mon, Screw. It's never that easy.

Unsurprisingly, the stairwell was equally dark. The lights which had been

on when I came up were now completely out. Using the handrail, I descended
the narrow steps while listening very intently. There was no sound that I
could hear except wind rustling through tree boughs outside. On the first
landing there was a small window which looked out on the rear grounds. The
street lamps were out too. I imagined that all the power to the building had
been cut, which possibly meant someone knew we were here. But of course it
was also possible that the power had been routinely disconnected by the
electric company since there were no legal residents remaining. It would
have to be a strange coincidence.

% Sure it is.

Empty couches and vacant doorways. The cold living room was also empty and

I crossed into the kitchen to see out the back windows. No one was in direct
sight though there were large trees that blocked my view of the garage. No
lights shone anywhere so

% anywhere, so

"That you, Zig?" I whispered loudly.

% Methinks he just gave away his position.

out by a gust of wind.

I took a tentative step toward the window and then three more before I was

looking out into the night. There was a flicker of light out there for an
instant, but it was probably just a shrouded star. Nowhere could I see
anymore of the scratch; it ended completely at the sill. Nothing inside even
looked heavy or hard enough to make a dent. I waited. Who ever

% Whoever

Why hadn't I felt his presence from the basement? My ears should be

ringing so loudly I'd be afraid they'd pop, and yet my hair wasn't even
standing on end. Completely distinctive from my other encounters with him,
the tension was only rising on one side.

Most curious.

More by subconscious shock than actual intent, my forearm hesitated,

hesitated, hesitated, tightened and the gun finally fired. The earsplitting
sound shattered the silence in the house like glass. Exhaust trails that
came out of the back of the gyrojet round left a streak of yellow-tinged
white in my infrared vision that flared painfully when I blinked. But the
bullet didn't pierce the door; instead it vanished two inches before.

% Neat

The thin glint of metal flashed and pierced the shadow. I gasped

reflexively. He stepped forward. In his dead white hands was a nine foot
long pole of twisted pig iron that stood only a head higher than he did. At
the top end was another three feet of slender blade that extended
perpendicular to the shaft and curved slightly downward. It was his Rain
Scythe, a wicked combination of death and artistry.

% Sounds like it.

"Yes," he replied in a deep voice that felt far too familiar. Rufius'

smile turned into a frown as he gripped the scythe tighter. There was masked
emotion present that I could tell he did not wish betrayed. "You didn't
forget about me did you?"

% Weee. Looks like it's time for one last epic struggle. Hope to see it
soon. nice build up and getting Screw back his powers. Looks like things are
reaching a climax at last. Prose flowed well, as before. Nice read


D.B. Sommer

             .---Anime/Manga Fanfiction Mailing List----.
             | Administrators - ffml-admins@anifics.com |
             | Unsubscribing - ffml-request@anifics.com |
             |     Put 'unsubscribe' in the subject     |
             `---- http://ffml.anifics.com/faq.txt -----'