And I have born witness to things in space, viewed from our own hands, that reveals the grandness of our universe, and the smallness of our home. And I have seen great and terrible things - the destruction of the very stars, once worshiped as gods, and now seen to be great holocausts of nuclear fire, roses of flame and life and death. And I have witnessed them tear themselves apart under laws far older than man, born before man could dream of the great juju of the mountain and mighty tiamat and the wrath of Chronos, and seen it for the beauty which it is - the birth of wonder that makes the wrath of all the gods of man seem petty and paltry and nothing more than the petulant screeching of children.

For when their followers claim we are born of dust, I say no, we are born of the stars - it was not a man who lay his life down that we live, it was the stars themselves dying, that we may draw breath and never know them, but ever live as their children.


(No offense meant, if you have faith.)

I met her at the passage to Taxachai, and beheld a quiet beauty to her form. She sat upon a high backed seat beside an old table, and held a cup of brown tea in claw. The bitter scent of tana leaf was present, and she sipped it with a moment of thought, her lips stained brown against the quiet sandy yellow of her snout.

"Ambassador?" I hesitated to ask. Her garments were well maintained, the red thin feathers of her crest and brow contrasting to the smooth dark oil-cloth on her slender frame.

"I am." She raised one green eye up and observed me. "Are you the one who I sent for?"

"I am." I said, bowing my head down and pushing the dancing garb over my shoulder, to bare the three looped marks on my blade. I was a dancer, trained in the arts of the Ran-Tan, and had been sent for, to entertain the Lady Ambassador. "Did you desire a dancer this evening?"

"No." She said, after a moment of thought. She looked along the under-road, a quiet passage between the city proper, and the underside of the Ziggurat which the lady held a preference for being in.

"Your gender mystifies me. Are Humans monogender, like my own?" She asked, after a moment. I looked at her with a momentary confusion, then laughed softly.

"No, madame. I am Male. The females bare young, males impregnate them."

"Strange." She said, sipping her tea.


"They say males are the brutish ones. Or the graceful ones. It depends upon gender. But you seem quite graceful to me, by how you move. Not as graceful as one of my people, but pleasent enough to me."

She stirred her drink with a silver spoon, and once again looked at me. I was bathed in a shifting roll of purple and red and green, which flickered from a glowing orb set in the mouth of a small dragon statue.

I gave her a look, and laughed softly.



"No, my lady. Generally, the females are far more graceful, but males can be, if we work hard."

"Do you work hard?" She asked, gazing over me while I began to dance for her, slowly and with a gentle care. She observed with her inscrutable face telling nothing. I could read many of my clients. Her, I could get nothing from.

"Yes, Ambassador, I do. I have worked at this for many years, as have all of my guild."

"Excellent. You may entertain me for my stay here."

"Thank you." I bowed.

"Though, may I ask why you desire a dancer, and not one of our guides or archivists, or one who tours the city?" I questioned. She indicated me to kneel beside her, and I did so, her hand coming to rest on my shoulder. Her flesh was cool, but not unpleasent, on my bare flesh.

"They use flowery language. You are more direct with what I would wish to know. I am not very loquacious with your language." She replied. She finished her tea and stroked her fingers through my hair. I felt like a feline being rubbed. "Nor am I interested in their words. Your words - one not trained - should be more interesting."

Interesting enough to be roused out of four hours of sleep to fill the needs of a lady of the sands and jungles. Right. I kept my face neutral, with a bit of a smile,while watching the shadows dance from the color change of the light. The intensity altered with each shift.

"I am a dancer and musician, and enjoy entertaining. I will do the best I can." I said, after a moment. "I do recall seeing your delegation being drawn in by large beasts, and you sitting in the middle of the group. I also danced at the welcoming ceremony."

"I recall." She spoke, stroking the dusky skin of my arm. "You will stay with me, and work for me, until I deem your services rendered."

"What are the terms?" I hesitated. This could be a long contract.

"Until I am no longer in the borders of your empire, you are mine."

I gave a dull nod. The guild had agreed - to not do so would be an insult to the Empire, and an affront to the Dwellers of Sand and Jungle, who had been assured that needs would be met.

I bowed my head once. "Of course, my lady."


From the tunnel to the ziggurat, I was lead to her chambers. Great cloth sheets hung along the wall in crossed patterns of green and red, while a large raised divan held her sleeping platform, which was dipped and bowl like, and lain with a thin coating of fine grain sand. Small chests lay about, holding garments, as she required, as well as a large grouping of documents she had read through on a large desk. Light gleamed from the ceiling from glowing bulbs, soft in shade. Lastly, a great carved opening let in a fresh breeze, which helped abate my claustrophobia.

Somewhat, anyway.

She settled upon her divan and lowered her robes, the smoothness of her body showing across the scales, and I saw that she was golden-brown with small stripes of orange running across her chest and belly. Her body was androgynous, even to her belly and lower. I quickly averted my eyes, and looked at the stars twinkling out beyond.

"It is a strange view. So many buildings are erected, layering perhaps one or two stories, but never down but a single floor down. There is much to gain by building into the earth, least of which is space. And yet, so many towers, and castles so grand. Yours is a strange empire."

Empire. Their territory counted a hundred leagues more than our 'empire', and their might and skill was greater than that by many more. They controlled vast cities that grew into the earth, carved into what patterns they desired. I had seen one, in my youth, and been at awe and sought to emulate their manner for a time.

I still did.


"There is still a pattern to what we do. We did not have the benefit of a guiding hand in building this city - it was once a fort, that grew in population. What few decorations we have are because of the few artists we produce." I approached the carved window, and looked out among the people, who slept, as I wanted to sleep. I looked down upon the temple of Igngola, the feathered prince of war and justice. It was a gem. "This fort was built in the years between war between our people and yours, you know. Two hundred years ago, I believe it was."

"I recall." She said, her body stretching out onto the sand, and she laying skyclad. She was among the few I could look on and feel nothing, in such a manner. Not that she didn't have exotic appeal, but, she was as curvaceous as a young lad, and I did not know the anatomy of her inner thighs enough to feel even a twinge. I looked away from the red dipped color. Old habits.

"War breeds interesting things. But so does peace. But a few years ago, I would be sliding my claws into your back. Now, I only wish to see your unblemished flesh dance. So dance for me."

With a hint of a smile, I did.


When I had finished to her interests, which was some half an hour different and the sky from the dying embers of the long sunset to the twinkling richness of dark, she bid me sit with her, and I did.

I would have cared for a towel to dry off the touch of sweat on me, but if she was disturbed by it, she was too polite to not say anything. No, polite was the wrong word - they were a very direct species, cutting through the dance of words - they merely noted when things were best left unsaid.

I noticed her scent, this close. It was dry, yet oddly pungent, a hint of oil and vegetation. Not unpleasant, but odd enough to be noticed.

"It is in debate among my own, as to why so much is worn. While we all agree that flesh is weaker than proper scale, the curiosity as to your aversion to completely bare flesh is what drives some arguments. Are you ashamed that you have no scale?"

The question caught me off guard. I cocked my head and rubbed behind an ear, into the long hair that touched to mid back. I was one of the few men who could get away with long hair - the auburn color was a rare pleasure that some of the lady clients enjoyed. And male clients, at that.

"Ah. Modesty? As to why we keep heavily clothed even in the hot weather is because we do not want to get burnt by the sun."

"The sun rejects your people, then?" She asked? Her own kind enjoyed a long siesta in the sun, savoring it like I would savor a cool bath at the same time.


"No, the sun welcomes us. But if we stare too long into the glory, we suffer for it. We cover, to avoid offending the spirit of the sun, so he will not burn us with his anger. Unlike your kind, our pacts with the sun are different. He feeds us, and warms us, but we must remain humble."

"I see." She said, sounding unsure. "Then suppose why you wear so much inside of your homes and temples and palaces. Why the taboo of bare flesh is still in effect."

"I cannot say. It is just that none wish to see the naked flesh of another." I said, after a moment. I was unsure. "That the Gods prefer humility from us, so that we may better serve them. If we are distracted by breasts and genitals everywhere, we would be too busy mating instead of working."

"Fascinating." She said again, her head cocked. "Mating is a strange concept. That you must be stabbed with the flesh of another to make another, instead of forming it from your own flesh and birthing a continuation of your line."

I flushed.

"We cannot all be so blessed." I hesitated.


"I have mothered three daughters, as my mother had created three, as her mother had. I could draw more, but each time requires much energy and makes me incapable of continuing my work, as it reduces my effectiveness. Of course, I reduce my temperature to instill live birth in my young, as I follow the way of meeting the mammals with word, not aggression, and wish to have some things in common with your people." She stated, stroking my thigh with a hand. It was an affectionate gesture, I supposed.

"You can control your birthing?" I asked, after a moment? "I thought your kind laid eggs in creches."

"We do. Many of us do. Our first is always lain in creche, so that we may remember our ancestors and their pains to improve and evolve from the mud and swamps. We recall the ancient legends and meditate upon their past actions, before laying egg and asking it be strong. It is always warm, and pleasant there."

I nodded again. She worked at my belt and drew it off of me, then began to push my clothes from my body. I hesitated, thought to argue the point, but her touch was not meant to stir. She simply wanted to know.

"The other births are at our choice. I chose live - to understand. It is painful, much more painful than egging. It is cool, it becomes difficult to meditate, but it must be so - that the child be born into an understanding of your people. It makes those of us born into cold understand better, and be more resistant to it. I share birthing with you, a pivotal moment of creation and life. I take first breath shortly after I leave my mothers cloaca, as you leave your mother."


"Uh, humans don't have cloaca." I said. She looked on me, investigating me with sight, though not touch. I was bare, my hands tight at my side. I wanted to cover up. Thankfully, blood was confused, and did not stir me too much.

"Yes, a shame. You would make a beautiful companion if you did not have that hanging between your legs." She murmured, then gestured me to turn. I did so, letting her study. "And if you had a tail. I wonder."

"Ah. Humans birth exclusively. We need two, one to birth, the male to quicken her belly. And so he can guard her in her weakness."

"Yes. There is a weakness in being a mother, even if temporary. I have had lovers of my kind, but it is only a hold-over. They say we had males of our kind long ago, but they died in a sacrifice to protect our species."

"Really?" I asked, turning to face her again. She gave a nod, and gestured for me to step into the bathing pool, where she joined me after a time. "I did not know that."

"We have it documented, with mural. They died, to the male, and did so to ensure that we would survive. We nearly didn't, until the first mother began to grow heavy with young, and taught us the secret of parthenogenesis."


"Really?"

"Yes." She said. "You ask that often. Am I so untruthful?"

"No." I said. "I am just not sure. I do not know much about your kind, nor do I think I have a great understanding of your people."

"No, you do not. You are forward in admitting your ignorance. I can admire this fact. It is an aspect of shared culture. I believe there is a gradual blending, as do many of my colleagues."

"Blending?"

"Like your reproduction. When one culture is forcibly joined by another, there is first the hard penetration of one by the other, the submission of the one who is weaker, and then the sharing of essence. In this, we are the penetration, and we have shared our essence - the name of our spirits are on the tongue of your priest, the colors of our scale are on eyes and painted into flesh, and our methods of education and discovery permeate the learned places."

I could not help but flush, even as we bathed. I found the stone too hard on my skin, but she had prepared with a softer one, that smelled faintly of the desert roses. I washed at myself, still hot at cheeks and chest, but it was fading.



"I am curious. Why are you telling me all of this?"

She was quiet for a time, thoughtful. She did not give off signs that I could read, nor could I make understanding of her expression or tail - she had great control. She said nothing until we had finished bathing, and she had drawn a towel around me, to dry me off, and take me to the divan.

"Because. It is a manner of courtship."

"So you are courting me? You understand you do not have to, as the guild..."

"...has no say in how I prefer to do things." She murmured, almost sounding sleepy. "We are incomparable, but I find you have a sharp mind. Your eyes calculate and you listen to my ideas, with a touch of comprehension on your face. You understand what I say, and you take stock of the world around you. You are an intelligent and graceful creature. I find this attractive. Were you one of my kind, I would have drawn you to me from the start." She stroked my hair.

"Thank you."

"Of course, little sister." She said. "Sleep now. In the morning, I would have you join me for a tour of the palace. You will be mine for a great deal of time, and I would have your understanding in these things."

"Yes, uh... my lady."

"Sister. Big sister. It is the term of affection you would use."

"Alright. Yes, Big Sister." I said.

I slept surprisingly well, in her arms. She was comfortable.

We came hoping for respite. Our world was long past, a ghost in the radiation, a whimper of a sun consumed by a gravitational singularity not a few dozen generations ago - such a small time, which we could pass into the dark. A few generations before, we would have died, a few after, we would have solved the conundrum by battling the pull of gravity itself. No, we lost our home in the youth of your species, first stepping out into the wider universe with our heads high, and heritage proud.

That was then. Before we lost our home.

We wandered, a collection of ships, begged, borrowed, and stolen. We wandered the wider expanse looking for worlds that we could claim, but every one we found (and we sought many) had prior claim, or if not, were stolen from us by those with more clout than we, a fledgeling looking for a home.

When we settled into the domain of the Iteeurini, they chased us away, and we had to turn to darker means that our pride would not allow us, but our survival demanded. We stole from worlds that had little to guard with, but much to take - always enough that we could go on for a ways and continue out journey to find a home.

We made an error at times. SOme ships were lost, others were damaged. Our numbers, even despite our best efforts to grow, continued to shrink and fall - from two million, to two hundred thousand, to a simple two - twenty thousand on a handful of small, cramped ships.

It was hell, those days. But we did what we could. We had little left, our technology was obsolete, our might was laughable, and we knew our generations were a few moltings shy.

When we encountered a newcomer, fresh beyond the rim of their own birth-sun, and into the dark between stars, heading for a world they hoped would have welcomed them.

I believe their ships were unexpecting of meeting someone - for they had only a few small lasers across their bow, and their means of communication were laughable - laser and short burst electromagnetism. But they sent word and they greeted us, their faces flat and their bodies hairless, in a variety of colors that felt strange to the drab blues and yellows and whites of our feathers.

It was tense, terse. They were intelligent, but their drive was nuclear - a nuclear blast riding out into the wild yonder, with mathematical precision that was juvenile, but it was with a hope to reach the stars that was naive and yet hopeful. They knew they could make it.

We managed to reply, matching pace with them. We felt pity, and saw in them ourselves, as we had become wrecks of once young and glorious and ever ready species.

We sent them the universal greeting.
3.141 5926 5358
They replied.
2 3 5 7 11 13 17 19 23 29

In the months we spent, half the ships forming an escort of sorts for them, we shared. Mathematics lead to music, to images, to artistry, to comparing, to language. In the weeks, we traded language - their gutteral tongue hard on light ears, but our sweet tongue seemed to entrance, and they welcomed us, save, they had no means to port. They had never expected to meet someone else in the void. They had never expected another life form out there, to greet them.

And when they struck home - their destination, I wept, when it exploded, as it struck the atmosphere wrong, and the hundred thousand people, the Terrans, died that day. I wept, for I had seen the death of those I might have called brother, and sang a dirge for them.

A dirge that was repeated to the stars, as we turned, and struck out for their home - to relay that they had died, and that we mourned their passing, the passing of those who did not judge us for our loss, but welcomed us for our being ourselves.

Their world was brown with hints of green, and a small wash of blue. It was a world that was in the thrall of over population, and abuse before awareness. In that world, hovering above, I broke the silence, and announced it with a song - transmitted to them in manners they might understand. I sang for them a dirge, and expressed sorrow for the loss of their transport, their colony ship fallen to error. I sang for them as I might sing for a nestmate who had embraced eternity far too soon, and I made offer of my ship, that we might transport those who wished to go, to claim a home of their own.

And in an outpouring of grief, we sent the designs of our drives, the knowledge of building ships - so that others would not know, and that we might be remembered for something good, and not the dark deeds that had plagued us in our need to survive.

It was a fortune we sent, and we did not expect anything in return. They returned a transmission, asking if we would be willing to take a new group of colonists to stake claim on the world. And we agreed, if only in memory. They sent a thousand - armed, and trained, with enough to make do with starting a new world. A thousand of their civilians went with us, and we set them to the plains near water, and waited. It felt good to be on the surface of a world for a while. Felt very good, to see a young species starting with pre-fab, with hope. And I want to take the world and live here too. And I don't want to leave, even as other ships of my kind, the Avnari, make the place to see, to hope, that we might be invited. For a bunch of thieves, bandits, we don't want to rob someone poorer than us.

Then we find out this world has been claimed already, by the Ensidia.

The Ensidia were, are, not nice folk. Neither would I find them unjustifiably cruel - but simply, pragmatic, strong, and more than willing to take what they can, if there is nothing that can rightly stop them, they will take what they desire.

One could blame it on reptilian hearts and mindsets - others blame it on a dictaiton of 'strong shall survive'. I, I believe it is because they are smart and like to stop threats from rising up in the future. I cannot blame them for that.

But putting down drones and threatening forced removal does make one less happy to have them around. These Terrans were not too happy to hear it, but neither were they going to give in. They were young and foolish.

When the infantries landed and made known it was not idle threat, but a reality. It did not matter that there were no ships to take them back, and it did not matter that we, Avnari, offered to take these Terrans anywhere they wanted.

They would stand for what they had claimed. I admired that, even as I sat in the central building of their small township, over-looking fields set for harvest and work being set up from the nearby forests, and felt wistful for a chance to live on this small Eden. I admired the world and the youthful spirit, even as I knew blood would flow, and the wrath of a greater species would burn like the first moltings burned sensitive skin.

But I waited and watched, and drank tea. Why stress about impossibilities. I sat with the leadership of Terran ground forces, and offered what advice I could.

"Run."

They would have none of that. They set themselves to war with a certainty that they would die, but would mark this world as their own. Trenches were readied and buildings were erected to shield and and hide. Their arms were small, but effective - and using the primitive but effective design gave me a spark of hope.

The infantries landed from high, dropping at the outskirt to once again give warning of the threat facing them, and that they had once chance to lay down arms and leave the planet. This was replied with the pops and cracks of gunfire, of sending hard shavings into the massed armies, who fell back shocked, before replying in kind - with energy baths.

Blood flowed, the coppery red splashing before the wounds could cauterize, and the armored bodies floundering back from the painful impacts - it took three to five shots to take down each incoming soldier.

Then the traps went up - and the ground erupted in washes of flame and earth and stone - traps set and buried in the dark of the evening, that destroyed limbs.

It slowed the advance, but did not stop it. Steps were taken with more care - shots taken with slower precision, but for every one Ensidian that fell, two Terrans gave their lives.

And watching, I felt a sickly sadness cling to my breast and tighten my crop. These brave people, some I called friend, wanted only a world to call their own. I knew the feeling, and I made a decision that was suicidal, but I would not let another be forced from a home. I took up a gun - a small one, as we Avnari are hardly the biggest of creatures, and left the safety of the building, and called for any of my kind to join battle, if they felt they deserved the notice of ancestors and the song of a Dirge-Master.

And I sang of death, as my weapon became my instrument - over the vox I called upon the valor of those long past, and asked their guidance as I approached the line of death, and fired, again, again, again.

To my chagrin, I must admit, my arm ached from the recoil, but it did little to dampen my spirit. The battle lines were scorched, and the scent of death was copper and ozone. I strode into battle, no armor to shield me, and only my ribbons and ties as vestment, and my blue feathers singed as I opened up my soul to the warrior within, and struck again and again.

My brothers and sisters looked on me mad, and, I suppose I was. But madder were they when they struck from behind, into the unprotected flanks of lined soldiers. And as brilliant and powerful the technological aspect of the Ensidian Military might have been, there are few things that can survive being struck at their flanks by a surprise attack. Of my crew, of my brothers and sisters, there were only sixty, but sixty soldiers can change a war.

Sometimes.

I was wounded then, a blow taking my wing off of my back, and sending spiraling into shock. What was the memory of battle from rooms and rooftops and trenches becomes a blur of pain and haze of forgotten things. I did my ancestors proud, and I honored one of the tenants of the people - to defend the Nest.

I defended it.

What happened afterwards, I do not recall. The Terrans held fast - bolstered by the strength of their allies, and the surprise attack giving them the chance to put down their opponent until surrender was reached. Bolstered by 'The birds', the Terran populace repelled the invasion. When word came of an attack to commence of orbital bombardment, it is said they promised a retribution that would make the entire galaxy fear them. Bold words, I have heard them repeated.

The bombardments never came. They left, with the arrival of a trade ship, and the armed escort, who demanded to know why the Ensidians were so callous as to attack another colony without justification.

It made a bit of an impact, when the results of the battle were tallied - twenty Avnari dead, eight hundred human casualties, and four thousand Ensidian dead. Respectable, with smaller weapons, weaker capabilities, and being a newcomer on the scene of galactic politics.

I awoke from my shock and treatments three weeks later - to find a wing gone, and burns lingering on my feathered form. My bravery had inspired their competence, and they, in turn, had inspired my people to attack at an enemy of both of us.

But what reward could they give, to allies and friends? They knew not that we had no home - and that they, in truth, had nothing we could take that would help us. We set to leave this home, when they found out.

These Terrans had hope. They were still young and willing to try. Naive, but able to take the risk, they had fought instead of finding somewhere else. They met war with gusto and fervor and ignited a fire in an unknown ally, who risked everything.

I guess that is what they are amazing at. Making someone else find their limits, and push past it without looking back.

When I talked to one of the soldiers I have fought with, who asked of my home, and found that our world was less than dust, and barely remembered.

With so many of their colonists dead and injured, they would need help getting started. Supplies were good, but there was work to be done - too much work for so few people, and not enough time to do it.

Not enough. We, without enough time to truly matter, they without enough people. But one thing the world did have, was enough. Enough room, enough promise, enough friends to get everything ready for the next colony ship to arrive.

It had enough room for twenty thousand birds to flock, and make a new home. There was enough room, for two aliens to become close friends, and perhaps more, in time.

The world needed a name. We gave it, in honor of new friends, new home, new hope for both of us. A world called 'Amicus'.

"Always such a pessimist, Z."

I gave the finger to Cliff.  Cliff laughed, a crackling sound from behind the

breathing mask he wore, a full facial concealer that hide him.  I never pried why

he wore it, and he never asked why I disappeared for an hour a night from the

barracks.  An equitable trade.

"Can't help it."  I replied, while setting my rifle onto my back and reaching for

my canteen to wash the taste of ash out of my mouth.  Cliff laughed again, his

boots clicking on the ground, his outfit hanging loose off his scrawny-ass.

"About five minutes out."  Captain Basedvna murmured.  Human, his hair was gray

and his body old, but damn if he wasn't tougher than boot leather, and looked like

it.  We lowered ourselves out of habit and carried forward, towards the

destination, where a low glow could be seen just beyond the swell of a hill.  I

could taste smoke, and it wasn't the sweet taste of Cuban.


Amazing how the little country made it through the worst part of The Event

unscathed.

The glow pulsed and made my head hurt, shaded a trace of lavender and gray - other

colors that my eyes couldn't process.  Like most of my breed of Kangaroo-Moreau, I

had more rods than cones, so colors would gray out where I couldn't process.

It was a bitch color-coordinating my equipment.

"Contact, fifteen hundred feet out, beyond the rise."  Cliff jogged forward to

take up position, while lowering his rifle down and checking range.  Sniper,

scout, he was one of the best.  The fact he was questionable outside of shooting,

and that damn mask, meant he'd never leave C-squad status.

Fine with me, I trusted him.  Serge joined me as we climbed the hill, his

mandibles clicking.  The rest continued up - they knew their duties.   Captain

would work to shut the portal down, or at least, secure it.

"We go through, or just hold?"  I asked.

"Just hold.  We'll call in a Gamma-team to go through."

Alphas might be big threats, Beta would be investigation, Cetta would be scouting,

Delta were motor vehicles, Elta handled paperwork, Foxtrot were training and

equping... Gamma were crazy motherfuckers.

I nodded.  Down below, the portal hummed.

"Captain, can you tell me what this is?"

Cliff looked up from his scope, while Captain pulled his trinocs out and took a

long look down below. Captain muttered under his breath and shook his head, before

scratching at his balding head.

"Never seen 'em before."

I joined in the look, using the god-damned scope (really, who puts a fucking scope

on a SAW?) and looked down at the grouping - three beings, clad with metal helmets

without seams, and standing in suits that moved like the galaxy. My head swam, and

I felt vertigo looking in on them.

THey seemed to be communicating with each other through gestures, one gesturing to

the portal and the others standing before it. I couldn't make heads or tails of

it. My fingertips itched. I wanted to shoot.

"Well, shall we go introduce ourselves?" Cliff asked. I looked up at Serge, who

nodded and stood at the cliff. Captain grunted and rose up too, leaving Cliff to

take scope - just in case.

"Greetings. Help you folks?"

The three turned, looking at us. A motley group we must have been, a kangaroo, a

human, a bug, flanked by a hyena with a battle-axe and a woman holding a chainsaw,

though not yet revved. I'd have shit myself, facing that group.

~Inquiry: What time part?~

The voice was not a voice. Metalic, a tinny hum like a bad radio buzzed between my

ears and the static-crackling sound burst there, making my eyes roll. I had a

headache already, and I was needing another drink off the bottle and drag off the

cigar. I wanted to shoot these fuckers. They felt wrong, and smelled like, like...

they smelled like a solar flare looks. I can't explain it, I'm neither a sensate

nor an astronomer.

"Uh, 0200." Captain murmured. He looked between the three, then up towards the one

with a large dome for a head, who seemed to stand most upright and straight. The

suit he wore showed a gamma burst, a wave of beautiful light. I wondered if I

could fall into his suit and be lost in the stars. "Uh, July 14th, 21..."

~Time frame acceptable. Location Outback, 200 kilometers south of Darwin.

Correct?~

"There ain't been a Darwin in almost a decade. The Hivers got 'em."

~Correct. We have a delivery for you, and your squad.~

"A delivery?" I asked, breaking protocol with a bewildered quirk of my ears. I sat

back on my tail and rested my sore monster feet. "What type of delivery?"

~Condition of delivery, not to be disclosed with recipients as to nature. Nor

shall recipients be informed who sent.~

"Alright. Can I see what it is I am supposed to be picking up, then?" This felt

downright bizarre. "And where is it being sent from?"

~Twenty four years, six months, eighteen days, thirty minutes from now. Perth,

Australia.~

~Further condition.~ The lead spoke, as he gestured to crates that materialized

out of the rip in reality. I looked in on it - seamless plastic with an indent,

shaped like a hand. I wanted to open it up and find out all the goodies, and

evidently there was something for everyone. I looked at Serge, who shrugged at me.

~Press palm to receive equipment. Must use equipment to eliminate nearby target.~

"Target?" Serge asked, twirling the faux mustache he wore. Apparently, he had a

real beauty of one before being changed, and the glued on apparatus was wonky, but

gave him some real personality. Or so I joked.

"Always a catch to this crap, isn't there?" I asked, looking at the big tall guy,

a head higher than I. "The hell do we have to do to get whatever is in the crate?"

~Alpha-Grade threat will be discovered in three minutes from this point.

Elimination is best course. One kilometer from this position.~

I swore, loudly, and touched my hand to my case. It read my palm, and gave a hum,

before unsealing, and slowly opening it...

"What if the Event was meant to bring all realities together into one point, and close all bridges between realities?"

Serge. Another on the team, from the ruins of Mexico. He had mutated. There had been a lot of mutations over the years since the first crack. The second Event hadn't been as nice. He looked like a bug, like a giant mantis, under the sombrero and the heavy cloth wrap. He had pistols - but if I had four arms, I'd use four pistols as well, simply for being awesome.

I looked up at him as we continued our patrol towards the contact point. The grass tickled my toes, and I felt hungry for some odd reason. I shook my head and tugged the scarf up and over my mouth, and continued forward.

"No, that'd be fucking stupid." I replied. He quirked one of his great antennae in a humorous way, and slapped me on the back before continuing forward. The rest of the squad was quiet. Nervous. We might only be classified for C-rank threats, but in the field, we could run from Alpha to Gamma grade dangers - and Alphas needed a tank or six to take down.

I remembered hearing stories, back when I was a youth, in the underground. Moreau were new, mutants were stared at, instead of shrugged at, and The Event was little understood. Some complained about the resources put into understanding one and making the other - but we Moreau could eat a lot different things, and were adapted to survive up top.

We had proven our worth over the years.

Alpha-Grade. There had been a few of those, perhaps a handful over the years. Big things, dragons, creatures from hell, even a giant robot that fired lasers and threw low-yield super-explosives. I shuddered despite myself.

"So, got any plans after patrol, Zath?" I looked over at Serge, who clicked his mandibles.

"Yeah. Got a date to get to." I replied, maybe lied. "Plus, gotta earn our keep."

He nodded. We continued.

It began with The Big Event. The Super Collider went off without a noticeable hitch for the first year. It showed us wonders of the universe we would not know the full impact of for decades in the future. It was a foot note in scientific history, the first time. The second time was a little bigger, and opened up a small fracture in reality, a small pin-hole in space-time that should not have had much of an effect.

Shouldn't.

They came from a different place, with different rules, through that hole. They came as a hive mind, many hives, many minds, and they took over the smaller creatures of our planet, and wrought war on us. Though a hundred of them could die to take down one of us, they had numbers on their size, if not diseases, and poisons, and stings.

The first years were the hardest, and the first half-decade saw the loss of all but a few hundred million humans. What use were our guns? Bombs would damage some, not all. Chemicals would just poison us as well as them. We tried, and though we fought yard, we had to seal ourselves under ground, and for a time, we had to let them take the surface as we fought for control of our own destinies and survival. Underground, we looked for help from the menace that had destroyed our civilizations, and we were running out of hope, when word came from the ruins of Europe. They were going to fire again - maybe they could close the hole, maybe they could find another dimensional crack and we could send some people through. Maybe.

We didn't expect someone to come through the fissure, and offer to help take care of our problem, for a price (to be named at a future date). A deal with the devil, and this man smelled heavily of brimstone, but he offered us a chance to survive.

We said yes.

He sent dinosaurs with god-damn gattling-guns to take care of the problem.

"Uplift, eh? The fuck did they pick a kangaroo for?"

Outback, winter. It was colder than a witches teat, and if it wasn't for the fur, I'd have goosebumps. I sat back on my tail, holding my rifle over my lap, and checked the magazine again. Gun was fucking heavy, some jackass had seen to put a scope on my saw. Probably a joke.

"Yeah, coulda put 'im as a boxer. Kinda looks like more of a bunny, y'know? Pests an' all."

I took a puff off my cigar. Cuban. Since trading was allowed between Costa del Cuba and the rest of the world, after 'Merca got its head out of its puckered asshole, these cigars made that country a little richer. Fuck if they didn't have the best taste in the world, made all the better for being on restriction for 'health concerns'. I shrugged, bit into the stogie, and adjusted my scarf. Fuck it was cold. Global-warming my ass.

"Some fucked up science if you ask me."

I ignored them behind me, and looked out into the field. There had been contacts within the outback, C-grade threats. Hardly something to get your testicles into a twist about, but always worth investigating, and who better than a squad equipped with the finest of Moreau-Person soldiers and a few human observers.

"So what are we looking for, anyway?" I asked, after finishing off my cigar. I held the burning end in my hand, watching it, ruining my night vision for the next few minutes. "Sir."


"Sat picked up a heavy burst of gamma in this sector. We think its a small portal, and need to investigate it, and make sure we aren't encountering another invasion of the Hivers."

Hivers. They had tried to get here. Apparently, the bugs were simply too bad-ass to be taken over by a group consciousness.

Well, except the jellyfish, but who the fuck swam in the ocean around this death continent, anyway?

"Cool. I'm ready." I replied, eyeing up the observer. "But insult me for being a moreau, and I'll kick you in the balls."

His brow lifted. I looked back, and rested my hand on top of my rifle. He gave me a long look, studying the heraldry on my shoulder, the tattoo on my forearm, then up to my ears.

"Friendly, aren't you?"

"Only to the sheilas, and your tits aren't big enough." I replied.

"Fair enough." He muttered. He gestured, and we set off.

Late night. The train whistled past as I stood under the flicking lights of the subway. It was past midnight, work had been hell, and all I wanted was to crawl into bed - bed that was at least an hours walk away, less if I wanted to spot for a cab.

I closed my eyes and stood in the warm underground, and tried to catch a few moments of rest, to meditate upon what had been learned before I started through the large cavernous way. No one was here - security was always elsewhere when I came through.

I walked slowly, my heels clicking off the well polished tile, and I looked over at the graffiti marking up one of the pillars that held the domed roof. Billdog had certainly made a statement. I bit back a roll of my eyes and made my way for the stairs. The escalator was out. My shoes echoed the way, as the lights flickered again, with a rumble of the train.

The wiring had always been spotty.

Looking up, I glanced at the gate, and frowned as I found it closed, the security screen down and locked. I grunted, calling out for someone outside, and rattled the cage like container. It didn't budge.

"Hello? I'm stuck in here!"

The lights went out, after I banged on cage again. I jumped, and turned, my back against the cage and my eyes looking down at the dark that seemed to creep forward. It was thick and heavy, and made my spine crawl.

And then I heard a low rumble, like a growl.

A growl.  It was almost canine, and it crept forward in the shadows and moved with a deadly alien sensuality.  It crept forward, before I could make proper sight of it, and the long snout bared fangs, while eyes, black on black, stared up at me with an intelligence more than human.  It was long, a black skin like tar crossing against a boney figure, and the hungry shape drew towards me.  Drooling, the drops of its spittle fell upon the white tile and dyed it black, which crept towards the stairs while it came closer to me.  The lights beyond the cage flickered as it came near.  It was as large as a horse, and yet it stalked as though weightless.  The muscles on its frame oozed.

It climbed the steps as I stared down, my mouth dry and all my senses telling me to flee through the bars, bars that did not budge, that did not let me through.  I felt my cheeks wet as it came towards me, up the stairs, up the broken length of an escalator.  It smelled horrid, and intoxicating, like some chemicals, or petrol.  It came near, more of its body oozing and leaving stains where it walked.  It strode closer, as I pushed back.  The great maw hung open, tongue lolling out as the blackness drew the light and made my breath cold.  Its legs hunched as I turned, grabbing the cages, and screamed.  It leaped!

"Miss, you alright?"

I jerked, staring at the face of the guard.  The lights were on and I was shivering, my stomach rolling, as I held onto the top railing of the escalator.  I turned, looked about, staring at the brightness all about me.

"Miss?  You okay?  Looks like you've had a panic attack."  The heavyset guard lifted a hand to wave in front of my face.  I startled, and bolted up the steps, away from him, and into the night, towards the safety that was not underground.

I did not stop running until I was home, and tried to calm.  Just a hallucination.  Just a momentary schizophrenic break, no doubt!  I gave a strained laugh, gurgling in my throat, and tried to shake it out.  I'd talk to a doctor.  I must have worked too hard and dreamed on my feet!

I tried to laugh about it, as I walked to the bathroom to take a hot, relaxing shower.

And as I looked up at the mirror, fogging with heat, I caught two eyes staring back at me, and heard a growl, as the lights went out.

It was to be a simple training run, really.  Pulling a twelve kilometer march through the snow and forest and along the side of a mountain was just another refreshing day in the Cold Training Division of the Rangers.

Twelve kilometers, and at a balmy -15 degrees Celsius, the squad of ten found themselves the rarest of pleasures - an old shelter that was taken up, with warning of a blizzard on the way.  Training was fun, and surviving a blizzard was a part of it - but even vets avoided getting into it if they had a choice.

So it was that ten bodies stayed in the comfortable wind-free shelter of an old, abandoned log house - and admittedly, while cramped, it was dry and only a fool would bitch about THAT!

"So there I was, pulling a third rotation on patrol, when this fine ass girl came walking up.  I mean, she had knockers out to here!"  The chance to unwind was a rare pleasure for any soldier, but it was a distinct method for training - and it was also a reward for making it this far.  "So anyway, she comes over, had her veil on and everything, and starts asking me if it's true about all American men."

"Oh, no you didn't..."  Alvorez rolled her eyes and resumed watch through the small glass less window - the shutters long ago having rusted off.  "You joto, cannot keep it in your pants."

"Lighten up, Alvorez, I'm sure yours is bigger."  Their teacher, who was honestly and respectfully called 'Sir!', said around a mouthful of the ever delicious (and Geneva-convention-breaking) spaghetti MRE.  "Anyway, everyone get some shut-eye, we have a long week in this environment, much less dealing with the blizzard!"

Alvorez, of course, took first watch, so she could get her beauty sleep and rest the full six hours until morning. The shadows played in the dark as she watched the snow and chewed on the last of her meal - her attention settling on the distant thoughts of a far away, pleasent place - home, in Arizona.

The wind howled, a most lonely sound, and she watched the wind swirl the flakes through the dark - the small heating fire in the middle of the camped-in log house making her see shapes that gnawed at the back of her mind.

And then a face appeared in the shadow, and she yelped, stumbling backwards and crashing over the old table and landing dangerously close to the fire.  Her shout drew the scorned look of her captain and the rest of her team.

"What the situation, Alvorez?"

"I saw someone in the snow, Sir!"  She shouted, then worked on relaxing her heart beat, to slow it down and return to being calm.    Her heart raced.

"Jackson, Paulson, check it."  She winced, feeling the heat, finally, against the side of her face.  She stood, pulling herself up and checking her weapon, left at the window.

"Nothing, Sir!  It seems that princess was seeing things."  Paulson stomped the snow off his boots after a good four minutes outside.  He squinted, and it gave his face a glare.  Of course, it was still colder than a witches tit outside.

"Alvorez."  Sir! sighed, and shook his head.  "Go get some sleep, your shift is up, Aurona."    The large Samoan gave a nod and smirked at the little Latina woman, before taking his post at the window.

So much for a good week.

"Alright! Now that we are out here in the cold, I can tell you what we are all out here for. Command has set up a mission for you - our objective is to scout out a town that's been found up here. You are to treat it like a live mission - your Ammo is Hot. It is ten kilometers north of here. This mission will five days before you are to extract."

Sir! sat with his back to the door, and unrolled the recon map, which depicted the half-buried village of Boulder.

"It had been uncovered with the raising global temperature." The map was well rendered and showed the old mining ruins. Of course, this far north of Alaska, not many people would be out to disturb it, either, so that gave his men plenty of room to enjoy the experience.

"Now, this village isn't fully mapped, but we've already put up objectives for you to find, you will be monitored. Take care in there."

With a nod, the squad assembled and made their way north, towards the ruins. Sir! leading the way.

"Live ammo for a training exercise?" Alvores asked of Aurona. The big dark skinned man shrugged and held his gun over his shoulder, his face hidden behind the well insulated mask. He patted her on the shoulder as he kept pace, and look out. The outline could be seen even through the swirling snow, but no one felt comforted, for some odd reason.

The buildings were old, and the snow had not been friendly to the wood and stone. Old, perhaps a hundred and fifty years, back before being buried with the small ice-age that had struck about those days, this might have once been prosperous, but time had not been kind to the ruins, burried under tons of snow. Some looked to have been clawed apart by great hands, others were pristine.

"Good ol' American engineering." Jackson laughed to himself, as he looked up at what might have once been a postal office, or a bank. What it was didn't matter now, of course. No windows remained, and a look inside showed rusted metal and sagging wood.

"What was our objective again, Sir! ?"

"Alright. Since you are impatient, our orders are to scout this township out. Intel is very interested in this place. Look for bodies, signs of struggle, anything strange. Intel wants to know what happened here."

"And so they send Rangers, Sir! ?" Alvorez piped up. "Shouldn't they send archaeologists or some shit?"

"I'll forgive that, Alvorez. Just scout it out, I don't like being out here any more than you." He grunted once and gestured, with a gloved hand, towards the church. "Go with Aurona and Kitt, scout the church out. Paulson, take those two, and you three, come with me, we need to check out here. Meet up in two hours."

The 'Church' still stood. Made of stone and twisted metal, the old place seemed almost defiant of the weather that had claimed most of the town, and it held no sign of being bothered by the chill. Inside was as cold as outside, even without the wind to drive in the daggers of frost, and the darkness was almost a living thing - an oppressing atmosphere that spoke to the lizard brain, whispering for it to flee. The great beam flash lights had trouble piercing the old dark, and mounted on the end of their rifles, they were like bayonets to stab at shadow.

Row after row of pews stood, facing a great alter. A few bodies were still sitting and clutching their bibles, mouths opened in quiet hymnals to the saints, even as frost coated their mouths and dead eyes. The frozen death had not come quickly, but each sat perfectly straight, facing forward, towards a barbwire wrapped cross of metal, rusted and pitted after all the years. Their eyes, long since dead, focused without deviation.

"Spooky." Aurona murmured from behind his mask, while creeping forward, slowly. Out of habit, he made a sign of the cross over his breast. "Almost like the old folks down at Quetzolta, they sit perfectly straight and don't seem to blink when they sing."

"Knew you were a wetback." Alvorez murmured with a cracked grin, while moving on. A glitter of gold caught her eye, a ring worn by a man in the front row. It looked quite identical to the rings of others in the congregation, a simple band with a strange star embedded on the top of it. An old leather tome was clutched in his other hand, of strange marking as well, and in neither French nor English, or even Spanish. Her skin crawled and a shudder passed through her spine.

"This doesn't feel right, guys."

"Relax" Kitt murmured, while making his way to the back. A small spiraled stair-case lead down into the dark, and the strange scent of turned earth burned his nostrils. "Come on, found a way down."

Down into the dark, the three continued. The stairs had held firm, and carved of stone, they were remarkably sturdy. Upon each step was carved the name of a saint, as well as the same strange crucifix as had been on the far wall of the church.

"Crypts. Careful, could be diseases in here." Aurona ducked the doorway and then stood tall in the crypt beneath the church. For a great long stretch the frozen-earth was hollowed out, for rows upon rows of marked graves to stand, buried under the cathedral proper. Row after row, it carried in into the dark, in perfectly ordered arrangements six to a row, separated by great columns beneath the church.

"1807-1867, 1806-1866, 1805-1865..." The dates were read off. "Tschovsky, Federov, Shelikov, Rezinov, Golikov. Five names, and it repeats back row to row."

"Russian. Makes sense why it seems a little off." Alorez murmured and shook off. She continued on, past the rows, towards the back, where an old door stood, sealed, and marked in Russian. The door handle refused to budge, until Aurona forced the door open, into a back chamber.

Five bodies lay, their heads touching together and hair braided into a single join, which lay dipped into a frozen bowl. They held hands together in the shape of a perverse star, their bodies wrapped in long red cloth. Webbing ran fingers, obvious genetic damage from there being only five families, or so Alorez presumed.

"Nasty. What were they doing down here?" Kitt asked, as he brought his light over the remarkably preserved figure of one of the cadavers. The face was strange, an odd mark of scales across the face and odd folds of flesh at his throat. His eyes were bulged and maw was longer than most, as though it had been growing with great tumors beneath it.

"Most foul." He said, while turning to look at his squad mates. He sat against the stone, and drew a cigarette from a hidden pouch in his jacket, then lit it. Smoke wafted up in small curls from his nostrils, as he exhaled the first refreshing puff in almost two weeks. "Seems the whole town was inbred, if this guy has anything to say about it."

He stubbed the cigarette out on the corpse and stood up, and bent down to retrieve his pack. He did not look back, nor see the glitter of eyes behind him, as they opened up in slow register of the pain of the cigarette. He didn't look back, and notice the others do the same.

"Looks like they were some odd Russian Orthodox, Sir!." The fire burned in the old town hall, which also served as a small bank, and postal office for these strange people, a few hundred years ago. The township was a little older than he'd have guessed, but Intel had not always been accurate. Sir! sat back in an old chair, liberated from a closet, and flipped through one of the hand printed tomes. The odd text made his head hurt, as did the designs printed along the inner labeling. The tomes were well put together.

"Odd. Alright, we can check the mines next, while I want three of you here at all times, in case one of the teams needs some assistance. The church bugs me." Sir! said, looking up from the book and towards the swirling blizzard, which had seen fit to trap them again, inside the town. Not that they didn't have a few days left to continue exploring, of course. "Should be something good there. Maybe it's gold."

"Maybe, Sir!." Paulson said, while finishing off his MRE and taking evening watch, while the others made bunk on the beds that had been found. Cold, but more comfortable than the floor, they served as good rests for soldiers used to cots.

"Can you read Russian, Kitt?" Sir! asked of the usually 'late to sleep' soldier. Two would be good look-out. "If so, care to do some translation?"

"Sure. Let me see." He flipped through the tome and sat back, feeling the fire warm him more than he cared to admit. It felt good, and relaxing, and made him want to close his eyes and fall to sleep. "Covenants and Oaths to They Who Guide, for better making of good peoples."

"Weird shit, Sir!" He said after a few minutes. "It looks like these people worshiped a, uh, something from the deep waters off the port. This town was founded in 1743, as a small mining and fishing township for return to Tsarists Russia. It was commissioned by Catherine II, and the five families here are descendants of the five who explored and found this frozen land." Two hours of reading, of deep, consuming reading, had taken Kitt, and he looked up at Sir! who, as was rumored, never seemed to sleep. "They ran into trouble for the first five years and nearly closed down, when this, uh, Voldru, came and offered them assistance, in return for five people a year, to... to join the Deep Water. They agreed, and..."


A scream ripped through the silence and dark, and guns were snapped up with a hurried grip. The scream drew blood to the nostril of Kitt and made heads throb - it was shrill, and sounded like glass scratching across chalkboard. It hurt to hear.

"The the fuck was that?"

"What I was afraid we'd find." Sir! murmured loud enough to be heard. Blood dripped from his left ear, while he held a rather disconcertingly large gun in his left hand, his personal revolver. He stood slowly and reached for his radio.

Bodies moved beyond the ring of fire light, and stood, old garments tattered upon their bodies. The wind howled a mournful dirge, as countless, neat rows watched and waited without saying a thing. There were far too many to count, and the smell of turned earth was pungent, even through the masks.

"Operation Lumina has made contact. Zone is Hot." Sir! spoke into his radio, pulled from his long survival jacket. The black radio beeped twice and static followed, piercing.

"Understood. Ghaitie is being dispatched. ETA 30 minutes."

"Thirty minutes. Might as well be a week." Sir! said under his breath, and softly shook his head. He took a breath and stretched his neck out, while trying to let free some of the aches that troubled his thoughts. Bad things stood in the dark and snow, and Sir! did not like it at all. Of course, crying about it didn't do a whole hell of a lot, either. He turned, gesturing them up stairs. Thirty minutes.

"Maintain points, we are to hold for Thirty!" He said, while taking point up stairs with the rest of his squad. Strange, concerned looks touched many faces, and he felt a moment of pity, for they knew not what they dealt with.

"What I'm about to reveal is classified. This is shit that Delta-Grou deals with, and you weren't supposed to be here, but were the only ones that were available for scouting of position. You are dealing with hostiles that are not human."

He looked up, and was met with stares that were as though he admitted to being a fairy godmother. He glowered, and gestured down the stairs. He was cold. They were sucking the heat out of the air.

"Think what you want. There are at least a township full of dead things that shouldn't be walking, and they are going to try to kill you. If you survive, I'll tell you everything."

"If, Sir?"

"Usual Delta-Grou faces casualties of 65%." Sir! replied. His gun was heavy. He was so damn tired. "If it helps, I'll nominate you all to become Delta-Grou. But for now, don't worry. Focus on surviving, and keeping your sanity. This is the real test, kids. This is the real thing you've been training for."

Thirty minutes can be a long time in battle, a longer time when out numbered, and facing horrors that drain your will to live. Thirty minutes can be forever. Thirty minutes later, five people remained, and were evacuated despite heavy fire and forces raising from the frozen earth, clawing their way out to be drawn to the middle of town.

Thirty five minutes later, a second sun was briefly upon the earth, and cleansed it in the warm bath of atomic fire. Five people survived the mission, including Delta-Grou Asset known only as Erchangi, or Sir! according to his recruits.

All in all, it was rated highly successful at 50% survival of un-tested recruits. Were it not classified, it would have been written in as one of the greatest stands of any Ranger force, against enemies of Overwhelming Superiority. The names of Kitt, Jackson, Crosov, Krakaow and Miller were reported missing, and after military investigation, were reported MIA.

As for Alvorez, Aurona, and Paulson, they were quietly removed from civilian databases,
and histories. They never existed, and were forgotten by family and friends over the years.

Of course, none of this was known, or admitted to, for no one admitted to the eternal wars of Unknown Armies.

"Miss 'Deusa."

A soft coating of mist fogged up my glasses as I entered into the private sanctum of my mistress, and I wiped it off, only for it to fog up again. A soft diffused light played through the steam and gave hints of shadow at the edge of the marbled pool, the steam coming from beneath glass, glass that reflected up into the ceiling, a fog showing long legs, crossed, and toes splaying comfortably.

"What is it, Agueno?" She asked, the skin a soft ophidian green, with scales running up the front of her shin, and down her long toes, to end in small, smart claws. I approached, eyes to the side, around the side of the comfortably heated pool, and knelt, offering the red wine.

Her smile was genuine, her teeth sharp, and the many snakes that slithered about her head hissing appreciatively. She took a long sip, and sighed.

"Guests await in your foyer, Mistress, they seem intent on talking to you, even at this hour." I said, while lifting up one of the drying towels and softly patted across the snakes, which made them writhe pleasently. They had always been kind to me, and flicked their tongues out in thanks.

"Hmm. Alright, I've warmed myself enough in the pool." She rose up through the water and stood, the small nub of her tail laying across the cleft of her rather tight buttocks, and she let me wrap her in the towels. She dried at herself with them, as I lifted up her wrap she wore within her manor, and waited for her to step into it, to affix.

"Veil today? Or the glasses?" I asked, her curvaceous figure shifting once to get the last trickle of water from her. I held both, one folded atop the other.

"Glasses. I'm still trying to adjust to modern practices. Do you have some for the snakes?"

"On order." I said, apologetically. "They will be ready soon enough."

"Excellent. Get the wine for them. I may have new statues."

"Of course, Miss 'Deusa."

"Gentlemen." Her claw tips rapped upon the hard stone of her staircase, Mistress 'Deusa moving with an effortless grace as I stepped beside, a glass of wine held for her, and my cane in the other. A brass snake, almost a requirement for employment at this place. I moved a few paces behind, observing the four ruffians who had seen to disturb at such a late hour.

Halfling, Human, Elf, and Dwarf. I wanted to sigh, at how typical such a grouping would be in these days. They had refused the wine, too, no class these days.

"What was it you wished to discuss?" She said, a hand lifted to rest against the edge of her black shades, and her other hand resting against her side, under her breasts, which lifted quite comfortably against the material. She did have pride in her body, and for good reason - she was beautiful beyond compare, and the serpentine features only added to it.

"Yeah, we been hearin' about some people getting turned t' stone." The big barbarian of a man said, his leather jacket hanging open, showing the handle of a switchblade.

"Yes, said attacks were found near the sewers." I shifted uncomfortably, and shifted my weight back, the cane pressed down and my grip tightening on the brass head of the snake. "A tragedy."

"Quite." Deusa replied, her snakes tensing up a hair. They did not like the situation. "But as the tragedy, I must ask why you felt it should bring you to my place of residence."

"Simple. Medusas turn things to stone. You are a medusa. Pretty simple math." The elf said next, while reaching into his back pocket. I twitched, my hand subtly twisting the head and disconnecting it from the main body.

"Yet fails on further examination. The days of the attack, I was in Rome." She smoothed her wrap down, getting the wrinkles away from slightly rounded tummy. "Visiting some old friends."

"Got proof?" The halfling asked, her fingers rolling as though to limber up.

"For four individuals who barged onto my property, and all but accused me of attacking people in a sewer?" Her voice was venom. "Leave my property, or I will call the police."

"No." The elf drew his gun out, and aimed it at her. He grunted in surprise when his hand fell off, then, with a quick stroke of a blade - adamantium wonderful for disarming ones foes. The cane fell, the hidden blade inside held high.

It did not take long after that, as she slid her glasses back up beyond her beautiful golden eyes, that she had four new statues.

"Please see to the blood, Agu. I am going to bed." She twirled the pistol, a sleek black 1911A1 and smiled. The snakes hissed approvingly at the weapon. "Please get me another glass of wine before joining me?"

"Of course, Miss 'Deusa."