I wrote.
I'm not going as Ducky, because it seems to be a more.. non-screenname thingy, if you know what I mean. So I just picked a random name.

Chapter Five

Some time ago...
The Civil War on Diamondus had been going on for almost two years. It was February now, the worst season on Diamondus at any time, but with the war confining everyone, the streets were filthy, dirty water running down them in rivers, and the blue circles under everyone's eyes were deeper. Rabbits everywhere kept their blasters well greased, their blades sharp, because there was no telling which side your neighbor had turned to. Species could not be a determining point, for it was well known that foxes, rabbits, and turtles alike could be seen sharing drinks in the grubby taverns. Clans, too, kept to themselves, meeting in secret, but even still, several mutilated bodies bearing matching cerulean armbands had lain in the rain and grime on the main street for two days before a Patrol carried them off. Inflation had skyrocketed, and tiny children could be seen begging in the alleys, bony paws outstretched.

Rain was pouring straight down upon Verity's hunchéd shoulders, soaking the brown paper bag with her precious groceries. Her black tipped, grey lop ears pinned back against the downpoar, she ducked into the cover of an overhanging doorway. Fumbling for keys in her pocket, she slipped into the dusty gloom of the apartment building. From her fifth floor window, she could see most of the city to the south and west. A plume of smoke, rising from somewhere in the buildings, blended with the leaden clouds. Too warm for snow, as always on Diamondus, but too cold to ever get the suggy chill out of her bones. Verity booted up her computer, stuffing packages from her bag into the cupboards. She peeled off several layers of colorless, sodden garments, shivering slightly as the drafty air touched her wet fur. Verity tied her dark auburn, waist length hair out of her pale green eyes, shaking rainwater out of it. Her body was skinny and unhealthily bony as she pulled on a dry shirt of neatly patched linen and traded her dripping shoes for knee high black boots. She reapplied the black eyemakeup that blended into her grey fur, and, after briefly checking for an update on her computer, she scrambled into more layers and prepared to leave.
For a moment she paused, looking out the west window. The sun was setting, and the clouds were bloodied by it's last rays.
Verity turned and walked out her door. The rabbit's heavy boots were noisy in the vacant apartment- many of her neighbors had been elderly, and had traveled to other planets seeking peace when the war broke out. Although Verity felt her 28 years weighed heavier on her than they should, she had stayed behind when requested, working as a hacker. She was sometimes needed for her skills at combat, though, as was everyone, and she bore scars of more than one skirmish that she would like to forget. At times it seemed hard to even remember why the war had begun. At times Verity was on the verge of tears as she remembered her childhood on this planet, and even more so when she recalled her peaceful life on Medivo. Though it rained there nearly constantly, the rain was warm and sweet, and the moss grew heavily on the ruins. Diamondus, though, had once been beautiful too- that was why Verity had chosen it, although it was not until the war that she had moved into the city.
Verity walked the cracked pavement to a small tavern, stepping around puddles and the ocasional blowing newspaper. Over the door, a battered wooden sign from which the weather had long since worn the name swung creakily. Searching again in her knapsack to find another key, she plunged it into the lock, opening the door into a dimly lit room crowded with chairs and round tables.
"Eddie?" Verity tugged off her cloak, already soaked from the short walk, and hung it by the door.
From a back room a dusty red rabbit emerged, peering over round lenses.
"Ah, Verity." He smiled, a scar scribbled in white through his fur.
"I've been working on the new code. It seems to be going well. You made excellent progress on the Uniform Amplification Locators, also."
Verity cast the older rabbit a wan smile, tying, as she did so, a short white apron over her garments.
"Try and look innocent tonight. You never know who might come in." She began to start a fire in the brick fireplace in the left wall.

Carrot ale gurgled into a green glass. "Get you another drink, Nick?" Verity's tray was perched precariously between shoulder and chin as she wiped a table down, smiling at a friend. "How're you doing, Riff?" She attempted an awkward hug and spilled a bit of sherry onto her tailtip. Grinning wryly, she topped off someone's glass while he dug in his pocket for more change.
"Another round, gentlemen?" She paused to laugh at a joke a tawny-furred cat was telling in the back corner, and eyed a cloaked visitor at the bar, who's tiger striped tail was twitching off the edge of the barstool. Verity made her way back behind the bar.
"Can I get you a drink, stranger?" While she tried to welcome people, there was no being too careful, and Verity did not like unfamiliar faces.
Green eyes peered out from behind the hood, inspecting Verity's features.
"Are you the bartender?"
"That I am. You look chilled to the bone. Nasty weather out there, among other things. How about a mulled wine?"
The creature sighed, relaxed slightly.
"That sounds nice."
Verity poured the liquid from it's copper tin into a glass mug, watching it bubble softly. She poured herself a Lemoncello and sipped it as she wiped down the bar absently. In the back room she could faintly hear Eddie clicking away at his keyboards. Her silver RF blaster was under the counter, her javelin leaning against the wall, and she didn't feel safe. As the only bartender, she knew half the people in the bar as regulars and had seen most of the faces before, always responded to their winks with a smile and a wave, would not hesitate to plant a kiss on a cheek before wishing one of them a safe trip back to their flat. She knew any of them would try and protect her, and she knew Eddie, not to mention the rest of her friends, would do twice what they were capable of for her. She did not feel safe.
She drank the last of her Lemoncello.
She wondered when she would feel safe again.

It was late in the afternoon the next day when she roused herself from her sleep, having gotten home from the bar at 6 AM. Verity clutched her cloak around her as she wandered from the tangle of blankets on her couch. She knelt on the floor, looking out of her window as she did so often, leaning against the chair back. She traced a scar on her arm, thought about the poison she kept in her medicine cabinet.
She thought about the poison every day.
Her computer beeped, drawing her attention.

Verity stood up. She would make one more person laugh tonight at her bar.
She would give at least one more day to her cause.
She would not give up yet.
Though she wanted to.



*pagegloomp*

This is very intriguing. Nice chapters so far, guys.
Mind if I might join in? Write a character-intro chapter first, right?

Be my guest Def, and yes. Character intro fisrt.
And Ducky, awesome chapter. I already love your character.
Awesome story so far. (Or should i say, stories.)

Ooooh, writing!
Chapter 6

So hungry There was food, where? Ahead, smallish. Kill. Feed. Tier dashed through the undergrowth, his agility unbecoming of his decayed flesh. Food, small. KILL! The turtle grabbed the rat and downed it in two bites, feeling its warmth, its life seeping into him. For a second The Hunger was sated and Tier reflected on what he was doing. Hunting. To feed. Just like so many nights before. Don't loose scent. Food closer now. Tier dashed ahead, preparing to cut his prey off. It was small and would be dispatched easily.

Move in. Go for the neck...Larger prey! Stalk! Tier obediently followed the insticts of The Hunger, for Tier was a Zombie. Not the shuffeling moaning forms so often imagineg to rise from the grave, but an Arcainia Zombie, an undead predator whose sole existence was devoted to tracking and killing prey. Agile and violent Tier was a victim of his undead insticts, feeding of the living flesh to prevent his own from rotting. Now there was prey large enough to stop the hunger for a week, maybe longer. He didn't care. He couldn't. His mind buried under The Hunger only knew that soon his body would no longer be a festering corpse, at least for a few days.

Big, slow. Climb above and behind. Tier glanced down at his victim, a blue rabbit, with a gun. Unfortunate that an innocent would die, but The Hunger... The gun would be no problem, he was immortal, invincible to anything that couldn't reduce him to ashes, but an arm would be a long time in regrowing. Attack lower, aim for the side of the neck...

The cool night air was disrupted briefly by a growl, gunfire and the sounds of feeding. It would be several hours before Tier would wake to bemoan his fate.

I hope you will actually be able to post more than one chapter. It was so stupid when you posted once in the Tales of the Tavern and never again.

Nice chapter double dutch, i like your character.
Interesting.

Btw, if this works out nicely, we could make this some sort of series.
Write more stories togheter.
I think it's getting along rather nicely so far.

Oh man, now a zombie. This will make my character very interesting.

Same here Stratn, im not the only undead anymore.
I like what inpact this story has on the WT.

Indeed. People I havn't seen for months. People I haven't seen ever like def.

Chapter 7

Tom shifted in his chair. His cushion had "gone missing" long ago, and he wasn't going to bring another one to work in case that one "went missing" too. It's not that he didn't appreciate that there were people in the building with a greater need than his own. It's just that he suspected Gary Parker had taken the cushion home with him. With his inheritance, Parker was quite rich. Especially for a councillor. Especially in Greenthorpe. Industrial decline had reduced Greenthorpe to a shadow of its former self, and anyone living on more than a subsistence wage considered themselves lucky.
Thomas Bradhurst was a slightly short, orange rabbit, with a single lop-ear. He wore glasses with circular lenses and a thin, silvery frame. They covered a pair of dull blue eyes. He owned two suits, one of which he would wear to work as the other one was cleaned. They were both grey, and both shabby. He had one red tie, one green tie, and a black bow-tie for special occasions. Today he was wearing his green tie. He wore the red tie when he was doing the town's accounts, when he was afraid the ink would splash.
Tom looked at the letter again. It was too good to be true. At the same time, it worried him. How would people react?
"Dr. Bradhurst," it began. They'd certainly done their research. Most people didn't know he'd been awarded a doctorate. Clearly, they were eager. And it was a very good offer for the town. But what would people think of it? Most of them would be glad. The Greenthorpe mansion should have been pulled down years ago. And yet, it stood as a monument to the town's great past. Would people be willing to trade that for the town's great future? Timothy took his glasses off and mopped his brow. He'd run it by Gary Parker. Parker was almost always against him - if he agreed it was a good idea, there'd be no problem convincing the citizens.
"Parker!" he called out. Parker probably wasn't doing anything. The only time Parker could be expected to do any actual work was at the annual fête, when he would run himself ragged at the behest of his grandmother, who ran the show.
"Parker!" he called out again. A moment later, a door down the hall slammed shut. Not long after that, Parker stuck his head round Tom's door.
"Yes, Bradhurst?" sighed Parker.
"I want your opinion on a deal I have on the table. A company from Earian want to set up a new factory here. New jobs for everyone. New people in the empty houses. And... more money to pay councillors."
"You know you've got my attention."
"There is a catch. They want to take over the old Tambleside complex. And they also want access to the river."
"So the Greenthorpe mansion would have to go?"
"Yes."
"And they'd cover the cost of pulling it down?"
"I would have thought so."
"Right. So what's the problem?"
"Never mind. There is no problem."
"I'm a busy man, Bradhurst," said Parker, as he left. Tom snorted, then sat back, satisfied. There was only one thing left to be done. He headed down to the council library.

The "library" was a small, cramped room in the cellar. Any floor space not occupied by bookshelves or filing cabinets was knee-high in old paperwork. A single drawer in one of the cabinets was used to store all the town's maps. The cabinet was at the opposite end of the room from the door, and Tom had to clamber over the mounds of yellowing paper to reach it. Bracing himself against some nearby shelves, he tugged at the drawer. All the most commonly used documents were in drawers that wouldn't stay shut. Anybody looking for maps usually went to the school, so more specialised cartography was kept in the stiffest drawer. He eventually got it open. He reached in and pulled out a property map of the town.
No, nobody owned the Tambleside complex. No, nobody owned that section of the river. In between lay the grounds of the Greenthorpe mansion. They were shaded in, and there was a property code. He put the map back in the drawer. Hopefully it was a mistake. The tax records would show it. He clambered back to the other side of the room and opened another drawer. After a moment of searching, he found the tax records for the street.

Susan and Tom had lived in the village for almost three years. They had been married for eight. She was taller than he was, with ginger patches over her normally white fur. She had just started cooking dinner when Tom burst through the door.
"You're home early!" she exclaimed. Then she saw the look on his face.
"You are staying, dear?" she continued.
"Could you saddle my horse? I'll be packing."
"Where are you going?"
"Number 12, Ditchfield Street, Orleton. I have a very big purchase to make."
"There's an extra horse free if you need it."
"Not that kind of purchase. Here, take this."
"A letter?"
"It's to the leader of the council."
"Oh. Tom, no. I can't take your place again. Not after last time."
"You're the only one I trust with the job, Susan. You know that."
"There are plenty of people who are more than capable of sitting on the council. Your uncle, for instance. Surely you can trust him?"
"Uncle Martin would make a good councillor. Until he started demanding that the school teaches about the ways of vampires."
"Tom, I've been talking to the people in the village. Everyone here thinks there's a vampire."
"So? However ingrained the superstition is, it's still ridiculous."
"But some of them say they've seen it. In the old mansion."
"The Greenthorpe mansion? What a coincidence. It looks like I'm about to destroy the myth once and for all."

An hour later, Tom was riding towards the north east. He had changed into his travelling clothes, the only other clothing he owned. He'd be riding through the night. Better riding than setting up camp, he thought. When he was a child, his father had told him tales about the monsters that haunted the night. He knew it was irrational, but he was still scared of the dark. But as long as he rode, he was comfortable that he couldn't be caught by anything unsavoury.
Things had been so much simpler when he was a child. Then his uncle had agreed to send him to university on condition that he studied vampires. At the end of his first year he secretly switched subjects, and earned himself a doctorate in engineering. He had faked a diploma to show to his uncle and his parents. They had been so proud. He was still plagued by the guilt of knowing that he'd cheated his uncle. On top of that, his father had found out. They hadn't spoken since.

(continued)

It was just past noon the next day when he arrived in Orleton. By one o'clock he'd found the offices at number 12, Ditchfield Street, and by two o'clock he was talking to Ranford Smith, Senior, one half of the Cholmondely & Smith legal team.
"I'm afraid," said Mr. Smith sympathetically, "that we are in no position to sell you the Greenthorpe mansion. Our position as trustee is clearly made out in Mr. Greenthorpe's will."
"Well, how long can you keep paying taxes?"
"The Greenthorpe fortune was considerable. The interest alone almost pays the tax. But don't despair. If you really are determined, there's one thing you may want to try."
"Yes?"
"We take care of the Greenthorpe fortune on condition that no heir can be found."
"Are you telling me there's an heir?"
"No. If we knew there an heir, he'd be in control of the estate, and you would not be talking to me now. There is, however, a possibility of there being an heir. But you'd have to go to the Carrotus Central Records Office."
"I assume that's in New Carrotus?"
"Yes. There are daily flights from Prestbury, if that's any help."
"It is, thanks. I guess I'll be going home, then."
"Good luck." With that, Tom left. Mr. Smith waited until he could see, through his office window, that Tom was outside. He picked up the phone and dialled Jack Cholmondely's number.
"Jack? Yes. I've just had a young man in here asking about the Greenthorpe estate."
"Did you tell him about the heir clause?"
"Of course I did. We are legally obliged to."
"Of course."
"He's heading back to Greenthorpe now. Just so you know."
"Yes, just so I know. Thank you, Ranford." He put down the phone. Jack's associates would take care of Mr. Bradhurst. The Greenthorpe estate was too profitable to lose.

Susan entered the council chamber. Everyone turned when they heard the door open, then stared as she walked down the central aisle to the leader's desk.
"Not again," said Parker, without any attempt to keep his voice down. Susan reached the leader's desk and handed him the letter. He smiled as he took it. Susan remembered that most of the people in the chamber did like her. But she could tell Parker's eyes were boring into the back of her head.
"Welcome back to the council, Mrs. Bradhurst..." said the leader, and he smiled again, "Susan."
"Thank you," she replied, and turned around. Parker quickly looked away. She walked over to her husband's place and sat down.
"The first order of business," said the leader, "is the Tambleside proposal. Would Gary Parker take the floor?"
"Thank you," said Parker, standing. There was a quick glance at Susan, then he focused on his notes. He continued, "I have been in communication with a prominent Earian company concerning a plan to redevelop the Tambleside complex."
"Oh, really?" interrupted Susan. "Would this have anything to do with the deal my husband is currently working on? The one that would require the demolition of the Greenthorpe mansion?"
"I don't know what your husband has told you, but I've been working on this for a while now. Yes, the Greenthorpe mansion would need to be demolished."
"You didn't even know about it until yesterday, Parker. I'm here because my husband is negotiating the purchase of the mansion."
"The building is dangerous. We have every right to pull it down without any negotiation."
"But the land would still belong to the Greenthorpe estate."

Night was falling. The creeping darkness urged Tom onwards. To his right was a forest, already shrouded in darkness. He would need to switch his torch on soon. He slowed down so that he could access his saddlebag. For a moment, he thought he heard hoofbeats. Then there was silence. He reached into the saddlebag and took out his torch. He switched it on and shone it over the road ahead and behind, then over fields to his left. Nothing. He turned to the forest, but the density of the trees reduced the torchlight to nothing after a few metres. He strapped the torch to his saddle and rode on.
An hour later he was riding through the forest, pitch blackness on either side. He shivered. He tried to tell himself that there was nothing in the woods that would leap out at him. All the same, he rode as fast as he could. But there was something up ahead. As he drew closer, he could see a crude fence across the path. He slowed down. That hadn't been there last night. Had he taken a wrong turning? He reached the fence and got off his horse. Something hit him in the ribs and before he could react he was face down on the road. He looked up and saw three tough-looking rabbits, all dark red. They were dressed all in denim, apart from their leather hoods. They looked ridiculous, but they didn't look like the kind of people who took constructive criticism kindly. Tom tried to get up, but the largest one promptly sat on him.
"Well, what do we have here? A puny rabbit travelling alone at night? Don't you know how dangerous the woods can be?" asked another one. He was missing a large patch of fur on one side of his face. Tom turned his head. His horse had bolted.
"Get off him!" shouted the rabbit. His large companion started to get up, but before he was standing Tom had lept up and floored him with a blow to the back of his head. The other two rabbits shouted and leapt at him, but he dodged out of the way. The only way he could escape was by heading into the forest, but the trees and the scrub were too thick. There was no obvious point of entry. He leapt over the makeshift fence and ran up the road. By the thumping behind him he could tell that all three were in pursuit. The road ahead was long and straight. There was nothing but forest as far as the eye could see. With nothing but moonlight, the furthest the eye could see was not very far. He pressed on. Then he saw it: a small opening between the trees and the ground. A burrow? He dove in. It wasn't a burrow, but it led to a narrow path through the forest. The larger rabbit would be unable to fit through the gap, so he'd only have to deal with two of them. He was starting to panic. He hadn't run this fast for a long time, and he didn't know how long he could hold out. He had no idea where this path was taking him. It started to slope downwards, and he found himself struggling to stay upright. There was a thick root sticking up out of the ground. He tripped. He felt himself rolling down the path, the forest turning in every direction around him. Then there was a searing pain in his head and he lost consciousness.

Note to self: MUST READ STORY before adding to it.

It looks enormous. Anyone copying this into some sort of .doc or other file, or should/can I?

I thought slayo was. Anyway, I'm almost (re) done with my story segment.

@4I Falcon: I am, sort of, but you can, too if you want to. My .doc file is mainly for my own use, anyways.

Chapter 8 :

"This was purely a violation of the Masquerade. If people like you keep running around showing your fangs, next time we'll be a little more...persistent with our demands. Now I know all about your, procedures and what not when dealing with these criminals, and frankly, I care about you and your protocol. Now I asked you kindly to enforce these laws, and until each of these rogue factions are eliminated, don't you think for a second that I won't make a house call on you. Now get out of my sight."
The nosferatu looked pleading, and even scared. But in silent agreement, they turned and slinked hastily out the door. The office was dimly lit, and the wooden door with the peeling letters "Office of A. Garand" was open with a trembling figure in it. A woman, by the age of twenty-two I'd assume, tall, in a purple dress. She was contemplating what she had seen, I suppose. New to the business. Heh, I remember the first time.
"Come in, Miss...?" I asked while extending a hand.
"Muh..muh muh ms." She stuttered.
"Tea?" I offered her. She took a sip, flashed a smile, and said "Thanks."

After we had both taken a seat, and gotten comfortable I asked her. "You seemed scared by the Nosferatu. Are you new to our industry?"
She looked a bit unsettled and mumbled "Yes."
"Aha, I figured. As you saw of me, they're nothing to fear. All you need to do is put them in their place. Vampires, Werewolves, Humans, they're all alike. If you show weakness, they'll exploit you. As a bit of advice, you must remember; as a denizen of this planet, it is your duty to send the impure of the dead, and the evil, to suffer eternal punishment."
She smiled again, and said "Amen." She laughed lightly and began to loosen up. "They all said that you were one of the best in our field. I guess now I know they were right."I grew uneasy. I knew that when she said they, that she was a messenger. And that always meant I was gonna be shipped right into the hands of disaster.
"Which brings me to my next point." She continued. "The division has been losing members left and right on the front lines. As such, you've been pulled out of management, and are now being re-assigned as a full fledged...hunter."
There it was. The kiss of death. She seemed to be cheery about it towards the start, as if I'd be happy to spill blood again. But she quickly lost her demeanor and actually turned away towards the end when she saw the look on my face.
"I...I'm sorry this is happening to you, but as you well know, our agency has fallen on hard times."
For the first time she looked straight into me. I lurched instinctively. Her eyes were blood red, a sign of a
"Vampire." She nodded and spoke with a heavy tone, "I'm actually not new to this agency. I'm Senior Officer Jaffa. On duty, a nosferatu got the best of our squad, and...well...I...it...I'm sorry, but I must be leaving now." she rushed. "Your first order of business is all listed in this package. God speed my friend." She rushed out the door.
"Wait!" I yelled after her. But it was too late, she had left and didn't think once of turning back. I suppose she was truly a creature of the night now. I walked back into my dimly lit office and sat down on the chair. It creaked as I leaned back a little while attempting to open the grubby package she handed me.

I spilled its contents on the desk. Several photos, video cassette, a letter, but the thing which truly caught my eye was a new clip of silver bullets. That told me what I would be facing. Vampires. The pictures included floor plans of the installation, pictures of the house from various angles, and even photos of the old owners, looking happy. I placed the cassette into a piece of junk I call a TV. Through the fuzzy black and white image I was able to discern that it was a news clip of some sort.
"What mysteries are contained in this old house? Well this reporter is brave enough to find out." A cocky old rabbit with slicked back grey hair and a trenchcoat was standing outside of the gates of a manor. It was night out, and lightly raining.
"My brave crew is going into the ol' Greenthorpe mansion, to find out if it really is haunted, and to quell these rumors once and for all, live, at channel Eight news." The camera man followed the host up the garden and through the path leading up to the front door of the manor.
"Huh...puh..why must this hill be so steep?" the camera man muttered. As they made it to the large wooden door, the host drew an axe and hacked his way through the barricade.
"Now we're inside the abandoned mansion, and no signs of life anywhere." the host said. The camera quickly turned and zoomed in on some decaying rat bodies. "Uhh, Mr. Berkly...." he uttered. "What is i...what...the..." the host replied. "They're dead. Dead rats. They...uhh...must be trying to live off of each other! That's it. Now, let's come over here." he beckoned while waving towards a dark corridor.
"This must be the den." he said emerging from the passage into an unlit room. He shined a flashlight across the room. Several beautiful paintings were hung on the walls, deteriorating furniture that had not been used for decades, some unlit candles, and a great brick fireplace.
"The previous owners of this manor, Lawrence and the fair Audry Greenthorpe, were rich people and the original founders of this town." he said while shining his flashlight across the room.
"This must have been where they spent their days in peace." the host continued.

As they came back into the lobby, the host turned to the camera. "Now I'd like to point out our good friends, the local marines."
The camera panned to reveal the armed squad that was following the host. "Now onto the next room." The host pushed open a door into what supposedly looked like a kitchen.
"Here we are at the...oh...my...god" In the room, a dark figure was clutching a rat. It winced at the light.
"CUT THE TRANSMISSION! CUT IT NOW!" The host screamed.
"We're offline." his camera man replied. "Good. Now shoot it." The host bellowed menacingly.
The marines opened fire on the figure, watching it be filled with holes. It immediately went limp.
"Haha, what a little son of guh...hur...uhbuh..." one of the marines started, but was interrupted by his chest being punctured by a steak knife. The camera followed as blood ran out of the guy’s mouth and eyes, all the while being lowered gently to the ground. It panned up to stare directly into the vampire's face, his eyes blank with no pupils or semblance of life. The camera was knocked over and fell to the ground. The audio was knocked offline, but the horror that followed was easy to determine. For about ten seconds there was nothing but blood running across the hard wood floor and seeping into the cracks, and eventually it was filming nothing until it ran out of video. At least I had assumed that. I ejected the film and began to read the letter that came with it.

Dear Alexander Garand,

It is my displeasure to ruin your business with this information, but in case our messenger, the lovely Mistress Jaffa didn't inform you, you have been re-administered to be a hunter. I apologize about this, but you are one of the most battle hardened veterans our development has under its belt, so it was only a matter of time before you'd have to fight again. Now to business. If you haven’t watched the tape, do so now. This cassette was footage from a film taken from the internet. The website that was hosting it was only linked to as a homepage by a new user on a message board, going by the name of Xavier. As is the nature of the internet, the footage was quickly spread throughout the internet, and outlived it's bandwidth in 2 hours. The film circulated for at least 48 hours, so countless people have seen it. We're under a full blown investigation, but are coming up empty handed. Be that as it may, this is not your case. You're being assigned to seek out and eliminate this unclassified vampire.

I do hope this won't have any adverse affects on our friendship.

Signed Walter

P.S: The arms department says that have a special order for you laid out somewhere in Prestbury. It was apparently a retirement gift, but during the re-org it was lost.

I sighed. It looks like I wasn't going to be able to worm my way out of this one. Not that I would have. That would be cowardice.

With a yawn, I reached down to pull open one of my desk's drawers. Inside was my old side arm, "Jacob". Completely unusable by a normal person, at 23 pounds and nearly a foot in length. Yes, Jacob had slain many of my adversaries before, and it shall come to my aid again. I loaded up the fresh new case of Silver bullets and cocked the gun out of safety. It was gonna be a bumpy ride from this point on, but it'd give me a chance to get out of the office. I quickly gathered my things, threw on a black coat, my glasses, and headed out the door. With one last look at the hole I had been calling home for that last 2 years I walked down the creaky old staircase and out into the cloak of night.

It was a full moon out, and even a novice Hunter wouldn't make such a mistake of traveling. It was even complete with a thunder storm. I didn't care anymore. I walked down the gloomy, dimly lit streets of Down Town Hopteego towards the nearest bus stop. Most people gave me side ways glances as I passed through small crowds of people. I suppose it's to be expected. It's not everyday you see a Four foot Five rabbit. I took off my glasses and wiped them with the corner of my shirt. As I re adjusted them, I continued to walk through the town. Even Hopteego was showing the signs of war. Beggars as young as ten, people crowding around small fires, all of these things dotted the landscape. It seemed that the only profession that a person could live off of was a Death match player or military. Even such great families like the Earlongs and the Jackrabbits feel the impact of the wars. But with Eva's and Jazz's marriage they promised a golden age, and look where we are now. Carrotus is not in good times.

I finally came to the information desk at the bus stop. I went up to the counter and a rather sad looking orange rabbit was sitting there, reading the news paper. I leaned up against the desk and cleared my voice. He jumped and dropped the paper.
"E Evening Sir. What can I do for you?" He said with a shifty look.
"Hey, can I get a map of Greenthorpe and the wilderness between here and there. Also, bus schedules would be nice." I asked politely.
"Certainly sir." He quaked with timidness as he handed me the papers. "But no buses have run to Greenthorpe in ages. We can take you as far as Prestbury, but then you'll have to hoof it. Here are your maps sir." He continued.
"Thank you." I replied.

I checked the schedule. The next bus was to leave in about ten minutes. While I waited I decided I should clean myself up a bit. I looked into a mirror put up on the bus station and combed my blond hair up and re adjusted my glasses. I tucked my shirt into my dress pants and bent over to tie my shoes. After I felt sufficiently groomed I sat down next to an unconscious homeless rabbit and waited. When the bus finally I arrived, I climbed aboard, and deposited four gold coins. It would be a day’s ride to Prestbury, so I got comfortable and sleep came quickly.

"Status report!" A voice screamed in my ear. I leaped awake and looked around panicking. I nearly drew my gun out on a loaded bus, but quickly regained my senses. We were still traveling, and it was about two A.M. Outside the thunder storm grew and it was tormenting rain. It had been long since I used my transceiver, and I had nearly forgotten about it.
"All clear, no engaments yet. No targets seen." I mumbled irritated. I readjusted my seat a little, read the maps and committed them to memory, and dozed off.

The train came to a halt at Prestbury. After a long day's travel I thanked the driver and left him another two coins. At least Prestbury was faring better than most other towns of Carrotus, and at least it wasn't raining tonight. I continued to walk through the desolate streets of a war torn city, until I came to the office doors of the Prestbury branch of my organization, Schism. Inside there was an old purple rabbit wearing a hat, furiously working at the computer. I took one step inside and he immediately spoke.
"Hello Mr. Garand. We've got your package right there. And you appear to have forgotten that we enlist psychics."
"Uhh...uh thanks." I stuttered while picking up the parcel.
"A heavy crossbow with 10 bolts. Complete with a wince for pulling the string back. Though I doubt you'll need it much. Good luck." He continued without looking up from his monitor while filing papers with his mind. I opened the package and sure enough, I had a 20 pound cross bow in my lap. I attached the shoulder strap, and looped it around my body. I thanked the receptionist and hurried out the door.

I left the building and walked to the edge of town. A small house lying on the mouth of the wilderness separating Prestbury and Greenthorpe. I walked through the grass and leaped over a rotting wooden fence and into the dark forested area. I instantly felt apprehension. There were dark beings in this forest, I could practically feel them. Ghouls, and werewolves were in control of this wilderness, but it was the shortest route to Greenthorpe. I pulled out Jacob, and walked forward. My feelings were confirmed as I heard the familiar howling of wolves in the distance. Taking caution in every step, I readied my gun and inched my way through the forest. I came to a river and suddenly, I heard a twig snap. Before I knew it, the wolves had me surrounded. Hideous creatures with dog like faces but a humanoid body. Their skin was black and as hard as leather, but their minds were entirely feral.
"Back off. All of you freaks. These bullets are not meant for you." I hissed through my teeth. I aimed my handgun at one of them. It froze, in place and cocked its face at me. With a single pull of the trigger, a loud bang echoed through the forest. The wolf’s headless body sprayed black blood like a fountain as it fell limp on the ground. The others crawled up to their dead comrade and sniffed his body. I took the oppurtunity to rush ahead and put as much distance between me and them. I raced through the trees, panting, and hoping that they wouldn't catch up to me. Nobody can outrun a werewolves in full stride.

"Report." a voice over the comscever demanded.
"I'm being. Engaged. By hostile. Werewolves. Trying. To. Escape." I huffed.
"Do you require assistance?" The voice asked.
"Not yet." I gasped. I could hear the pads on their feet bounding across the forest in pursuit. Suddenly, I was flying. With a painful crack I came crashing down to the earth, lying in a pool of mud. I quickly turned over, my body exhausted. I aimed my gun up.

I'll probably join in this. Expect my first chapter anywhere from half an hour from now to two weeks.

Great chapters TB and Inf.
These tie in well with my chapter, thus already creating some sort of a plot.
I would love to see where this leads.

(Would anyone object to me introducing another rule. No killing of the characters of other people that are activly writing.)

That rule sounds like a good idea to make this fair, but I think it would be better as "No killing of another author's character without their consent beforehand." That way, we can have the characters die in another chapter, but the author still has control over whether it does or doesn't happen.

If you're going to do that, it's best to leave it at a branch cliffhanger. (IE let the author continue the cliffhanger of whether s/he dies)

I'll post a chapter that puts my character up to date in a bit. I need to read it over though and make sure it's fluid, containing enough details, and understandable. That and I want to see if I can extend it any longer becuase every else has uberlong chapters >O.

I appear to have had a portion of my reply removed. I will attempt to repair. Stupid first paragraph. Oh, I'm only semi vital I'll just no get posted! ^_^.

Done.

EDIT: I was done, then I realized NO. I'm not finished yet.

Stuff.

I thought slayo would get the first chapter of round 2.

I felt incomplete and this was collecting too much dust as a sticky ;P.

Can't you just follow the rules and wait till the next round?
Darn, this might mess things up.
Ok people the second round has not started yet, Kaz added to his story, instead of editing his chapter he decided to post a new one, please don't follow up on him and just wait untill everyone has taken his turn, or if everyone already has then wait untill i am home on friday and till i can start writing again.

Kaz, it'd be nice if you just edited your first chapter, i would write the first chapter of the new round and everyone would write ONE introduction chapter. Please edit, thanks.

Can I join plz ;D

Err, yeah. I need to talk to Slay about this because I've been away from the computer for some time and haven't been able to catch up on anything. Sorry. If all goes well I might post a small chapter.

Do we have to go in order after round 2 starts? Like, I was chapter five, will I me all multiples of five after? 10, 15, etc? Or can we just write our chapter when we get to it?

, how about a bit more strict rules. A grid showing the exact order would be nice, and yes, I would follow those rules. I guess I felt justification as it didn't hurt anything (had to edit a bit to keep it isolated but tie in vague references for future use) and if anything it'd seem to help.

We will continue in the order of which we have written the chapters.
Not everyone is done yet, so we can not make an order yet. But everyone that has already posted in this round (The introduction chapters) can't write anymore.

Wait, let me put that nicer.
Please do not write another chapter if you have already written.
Contact me trough pm or on mIRC Velkie.

I will post a grid if everyone is finished with his/her chapter.
So far, Ax, Cobra and Velkasha still have to post a chapter.
And i guess we can continue this afterwards. Thanks for your patience and Kazooie, thanks for editing.
I guess you could post it if is of importance to your character, since you only posted a small chapter, i think the rest of us are pretty much finished.
Kaz, make sure not to call it chapter nine because that could get confusing, just call it 'A continuation of my previous chapter.' Thanks for helping out.

Hm ... I'll probably post one tomorrow.

Yay VELK >O. You are going to hells for the star of david though.

Velk isn't going to hell, she's going to story heaven.
People, i am really enjoying what i have read so far. Keep up the good work.

Chapter 11.

It was time for a new era of her life to begin, she could tell. The waters in front of her showed no changes in her reflection other than the wounds time was slowly carving into her, but she could feel it lurking somewhere between her shoulder blades. A lazy finger was pulled through the water enough to distort the transparent reflection, and then an angry fist shattered it.
Of course things would change one a final peace and solace was found. The cycles of life would not stop for a mere mortal no matter how much pleading was done. Good would be overcome by evilness, but the darkness would too pass like the darkness of the night. They had taught her of balance well.
For it was at a school of balance that she was staying, if it could be called a school. The word monastery fit it better, or at least the practice of stoicism made it feel like a place of monks. Life was lived to the fullest through the simplest of things deep within the ancient hallways buried deep within Chrystalis. How ironic that a people of humility and modesty chose the most shimmering of planets as their home.
It was a fitting place to live, and if fate would let it, she would have happily called it a fitting place to die. But amongst her brothers and sisters (as they called all of the participants) there were whispers and divinations of a change in the life of them all, and that soon enough more than half would be gone. Not that she really believed the divinations, it was a hazy practice started by rabbits who enjoyed staring into the swirling waters of the river instead of staring at runes of virtue. Few accepted them as true, and they most often were incorrect.
But even the unreliability of the waters could not calm the gut feeling she had. So she rose from the glittering shore and started down the smooth hallway, occasionally lit by faint murmurs of candles that cast gold explosions through the crystal. Past the rooms of pale sunless plants, past the greenhouse filled with pale sprouts that would soon wither if not harvested soon, the path took her.
How long had she been down here? Long enough to shackle the emotions that once ravaged her long ago. Now she even had control over her subconscious and didn’t even dream. Or so it had been up till a week ago, then strange dreams started plaguing her mind. One of the brothers had suggested she spend some time at the waters to see if they could lend any help, so all her time had been spent roaming the banks of the rivers. But this had only further cemented her disbelief in the aquatic divination. It was a diversion though, and a pretty one at that.
All of her siblings of the order had already gone into the bed rooms, simple rooms of golden crystal pocked by rectangles carved into it, each box big enough to hold just one rabbit of average size. It was a coffin-like bedroom for a corpse-like person. Indeed, that was what they all were. Void of feelings and expressions, each with a blank look upon their sleeping faces.
They had been so kind to take her in all those ages ago. Every night when she would wake up writhing and clawing at her own skin one of her siblings would be there for her. They would read the runes to her, and she would drift off peacefully into the numbness of sleep. Once the dreams stopped coming to her, they moved her to the chamber with her other siblings.
At first it was difficult to adjust to the lightless halls and nearly-mirror like crystals. But over time her eyes grew to be permanently dilated and capable of seeing through the haze of reflections and shadows. The sprouts they grew and the water they drank had nearly magical properties, encouraging the body’s natural adaptation to lightlessness.
So into her box she slid, on her back with the ceiling barely skimming her nose. The founding siblings said that peace of mind could be found when the body was at peace, so the sleep chambers were made as small as possible to restrict movement. She used to wake up with bruises on her forehead and knees every morning, but over time the calm of the school smothered the desires to lash out in her sleep.
There was to be no trust in emotions, they said. Emotions could be the cause of childhood trauma, hormonal fluxes, or even possible head injuries. They caused people to war, rabbits to rage, and the problems of the world. It was encouraged that they tell themselves this every night before sleep; supposedly it influenced the subconscious to slumber. But it seemed to make the whole brain sleep; it was as if thoughts were a sin of the utmost evil. Before coming, she had never though herself to be capable of actually thinking nothing for long periods of time, but now it was all she could do. Time didn’t exist; there was no hurry, no change in life aside from the waters. And even the swirls of minerals in the water seemed to be curling and fading in the same patterns.
The sudden thought of those hypnotic waves seemed to overload her brain and sleep suddenly stole her clarity of thoughts away. It had been so long since she had actually been able to control her thoughts, it was a shame.

Sleep’s hold on her was weaker this night it seemed. Ever since the dreams had started, her sleep had been weaker. She was afraid to go to her siblings with her problem though, out of fear of being told of her emotional weakness. That fear had been installed in her subconsciously, and she knew it plagued all her siblings as well. They were supposed to be in control of themselves.
So when she suddenly jolted out of a nightmare and her skull made a dull thud against the ceiling, she didn’t cry out. She had been dreaming about the waters. They had pulled her in and brought her to a place where there was wind, oh how she had loved the wind. Dancing in the wind were the same shimmering crystal swirls as there were in the water. The crystals seemed to slink together in lines, and it seemed like she was in a mass of shimmering snakes. It was so beautiful, even for someone in the heart of Chrysalis. For the first time since her early weeks there, she cried.
It was if finally all the cosmic dice had rolled her a reason to burst out with emotions. How long had she been there without an emotion on her face? How long had it been since she had smiled? Surely there was nobility in the suppression of everything pleasurable, but what was wrong with smiling just this once?
So she tried. In this barely-awake stage, she dove into her memories. Something happy was needed. But everything seemed to just be flashes, just flickers that died too fast. There were some people laughing. A little bunny with her short hair pulled up into little spiky pigtails. Was that her? The coloring seemed right. But that couldn’t be her, she didn’t remember it.
And then her body convulsed with sobbing. She threw herself out of her box and hit the floor, hitting her left arm against the ceiling with a pain that tore up into her shoulder. Her haggard, lung-searing breaths she tried to still while wide-eyed she tore her eyes across the room looking for anyone awake, but they were all asleep.
She needed to go someplace where no one would see her. She pulled her robes closer, in hopes of keeping the sound of the fabric to a minimal. She skittered into the hall, the slight click of her nails ringing in her ears and tearing at her nerves. Down the hall, maybe into the room filled with the plants? No, that was too close, they might hear her. The water called to her.
Although the stoic in her told her to go back to bed and to spend more ages in a conscious coma, the child she had awakened chose to ignore the mist in her mind. She could always justify it by claiming she had to divan something. So it was to the waters she went, and she didn’t just go to the pretty golden bowls set by the river that were used to divan. She pulled off her robes, crumpled them up and put them behind the bowl. Even though they all slept at the same time, she was afraid of being caught.
How long did she stand up by the water? She knew she had to go in, or perhaps she’d never have this day again. Perhaps time was pulling at her again. So she threw judgment to the wind and did not just step in, but she threw herself in.
The sudden ability to breath was stolen away and she floundered in the purple stream. She was able to gasp for air just before the seemingly peaceful water’s undertow caught her and pulled her under and away from the shore. Her eyes were opened in the water, and she felt strangely calm aside from the burning in her lungs. The minerals in the water were swirling around almost just like her dream. Except now the minerals didn’t look so beautiful, in fact they looked quite powdery. She reached out a paw into one of the strands of powder, and all of the clumps clung to her fur and…was it burning? Was not her fur withering and the skin beneath it blistering and turning white?
This perplexed her greatly, and as she was wondering why the previously glittery waters were now wild and silt-filled, the waters brought her up. But they brought her up to a roof of sorts with no air. Her paws grasped at it in hopes of finding air, but she was only driven against it more, her head knocking against it. But the force of the water kept pulling her to the right, and the roof ended. She gasped for breath in a room she had never seen before.

Part II.

About three of her siblings were in an unpolished room, the floor dusted with a slightly greenish powder. More of the powder was in ugly molding barrels around the room. They had been pouring the barrels into the water, but stopped when she appeared.
She raised her hand up to show the leprous hand with fear in her eyes, but no help was offered. “Brothers, what is this?” she cried, with too much emotion. She pulled herself towards the shore, but once her good paw touched the shore encrusted with the powder, it started burning even more than before. The skin wasn’t just blistering and turning white; it was bubbling and melting into a bloody valley. She had to let go, it hurt too much. Into the water she went again, the coolness offering some comfort but the now-paste still etching into her.
Arms wearing special gloves pulled her up. Her feet were dragged a bit against the powder, setting the nerves aflame and she screamed. They kept dragging her, into a room where there was no powder, just large vials of an amber-hued liquid. One of her siblings grabbed one of the vials from off the wall and proceeded to envelope her with the surprisingly thick liquid that smelled of vinegar. The bubbling stopped and the pain faded to a dull ache.
The brothers started arguing. She couldn’t hear too much through her water (and goo) filled ears, but she heard something about “can’t let this out” and “end this”, which are never good things to hear. Her eyes darted around the room, and rested upon one of the labels. Beneath the mold and dank mildew that streaked the tattered paper label it said “Jade Dawn” She had a feeling that she should know what this was.
OH! It had come back to her. Something about a war. Her sister had been a scientist, and they were studying a new form of chemical warfare. Jade Dawn was the code name for a poison powder that could be put into enemy camps water systems and placate them without any permanent damage. However, the shelf life was very low, and it was found that within two months of production the powder would lose its simple knockout affect and cause brain damage to anyone exposed to it. When mixed with water, the effects were doubled. It was quickly banned from all war zones and production was stopped in favor of making some other kind of poison. Something pink, she had forgotten what it was.
…They were poisoning them? Suddenly it made sense how life had been a blur, how they could all sleep without dreams. Also, it explained why no one left. A sudden wave of betrayal swept over her. They weren’t really trying to help her, they were trying to turn her and every other rabbit there into a robot.
They pulled her up and threw some robes about her, then marched her out of the room on bleeding paws, her fur dripping amber fluid as she went. They went through another room filled with barrels, and into a corridor of doors. For a moment they let go of her, each to fish into his pocket, most likely for a key.
Fate smiled on her. She jerked backwards and ran with the fear of an animal. Back through the room of amber. Back through the room of powder. Into the water she dove, trying to fight against the current. But it was stronger than her, and just pulled her through more tunnels. Her mind reeled from this information, she had to get out, she had to get everyone out.
Wait. The river pulled her into a familiar room, the room where this had all started. The waters ebbed, and she was able to heave her waterlogged self onto the smooth ground. She wanted to lie there, but she knew she had to tell the others. So she pulled herself up and set towards the door, her diaphragm aching, eyes watering, and breaths coming out shallow and rapid. The wet robes dragged, her feet bled, and she wanted to just give up. But she had to go on. No longer was this a haven to flee to, but an enemy to hide from. Into the room where they all slept. She started grabbing robes and pulling the sleeping people to the floor.
“Beloved siblings, I have discovered a grave secret. Our brothers have been lying to us; the crystals we divan from are not a gift from the divine but Jade Dawn, a poison that dulls our senses and weakens our brains. Before I came here and started consuming this venomous water, I knew what this did. Siblings, I am not lying! Please, hear me out.” She pleaded, but they just stared back emotionlessly. “Sister, you need to sleep. You are getting emotional. Your dreams give you false emotions.” One of her sisters said, crawling back into her bedbox. The others wordlessly agreed and also went to bed.
She screamed. All logic left her, and she stood alone on the floor, with blood streaming from her wounds and the sensitive flesh of her ears. Nothing could be gained from it, but too much was happening. Too many emotions were flooding. Images were coming back. It was as if now she knew what the poison was; now she could fight it.
She ran. She had to get out. Maybe if she saw the outside world, she could help them. But how did she leave? She had to get down here somehow. But that was so long ago, so many ages ago that she had been trying to forget. It was in her mind somewhere, and in these halls somewhere. She’d start by going to the bedchamber of the new recruits.
So she thudded along the hallways, occasionally skidding due to the water left by her robes. The room was hard to find, she walked by it twice. Once inside, she found that there were no new recruits. Odd, she could have sworn that there were more…
But then the siblings from the room with the barrels stepped out at her. They were wearing protective suits, and holding little grenade-like white balls with a five-pointed green flower on it, the symbol of Jade Dawn.
She knew it was coming but her reflexes were too numb to do anything other than blindly try to charge past them. One of the grenades exploded, white powder filling the room. She closed her eyes and raised her arms expecting sudden pain, but none hit her. She thanked whoever was watching over her, and kept running, hearing them shouting behind her but not stopping to listen. She wasn’t that stupid.
There was an odd room in front of her. It was very small, only big enough to hold about six rabbits, with an odd lever of sorts. It struck her as familiar, but it took her a while to realize that it was an elevator. Sudden strength was given to her as she dove into it and pulled the lever. The chains pulling it screeched and made her already bleeding ears ring. She couldn’t handle it, she fell to her knees and put her aching hands to her aching ears.
It was almost slow motion as she painfully raised her eyes to see them bearing down the hall upon her, but the lift was almost half up. It was gaining momentum, thankfully, and she would soon be hidden from them by the ceiling. But fate would not be so kind to her as to let her escape, one of them threw a Jade bomb into the elevator with her just before the ceiling closed her off.
She panicked. The room was now completely closed off. She tried to force it down the space between the lift and the wall but it wouldn’t fit. Her eyes filled with tears as she pulled it into her hands to try to disarm it but it was a solid piece of work that would not open to her. Fearful eyes tore over the elevator looking for a place to hide, but nowhere was there any escape. Maybe she could get off the elevator before it exploded? It was going very fast…
A sudden cloud of white blocked her vision with a click as the bomb went off. Her fingers were singed from the explosion, and otherwise she felt fine, for a moment. But the protective endorphins wore off all to soon, and her previously fine feeling eyes felt like someone was putting burning needles deep into them.
Animal like screams escaped her lips as she fell over and tore at her eyes, trying to either stop the pain or remove them altogether. She felt the elevator stop moving, and she rolled out of the elevator, onto her back.
Through the static-like stars filling her eyes, she saw something she hadn’t seen in years. The stars. The sky was a deep royal blue filled with diamonds so fantastic. She hadn’t seen them in so many years. Tears started mixing with the blood and the poison in her eyes and she felt sobs rising in her soul. She extended her arms to feel the ground, a rocky composition of crystals and sand, but something she hadn’t felt in years. She closed her eyes for a moment to breath in the dry air when she felt the wind. The glorious wind, pulling at her fur and caressing her lips.
It was so beautiful. It was so alive. It suddenly made everything she had gone through worth it. She was alive, she was a part of this beauty now.
She tried to open her eyes, to see her beautiful sky one more time.. It didn’t work, so she raised her fingers to rub them but stopped and recoiled with a cry when she felt the open sores on her eyes. Her lids were not down. She had opened them. She couldn’t see.
And on that deserted stretch of land, beside a broken down elevator, she curled up and wept like a child, her soft cries carried off in the beloved wind.

Very interesting so far. I can't imagine what a tangled web these will weave once the characters begin to intertwine. I want to write a chapter, but I don't know. There are already 11 different people writing, that will be tough to keep up with.

As I've read through the chapters I've been making a general synopsis of characters and events for easier reference farther down the line. If anyone cares to see it, perhaps I'll post it once I'm done. I have a number of chapters yet to read, though.

Edit: Inspiration sporatically hit me.
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Chapter 12: A Suprise Visit

"Pardon me, but I think your ship is on fire."

A slender, golden-furred rabbit paused in her exchange amongst friends and turned to address the interruption. With a wry smirk she replied, "Is this how you usually start conversations?" The black rabbit before her disguised a smile as his indigo eyes glistened for a moment. And for a moment hers paused to study his face. Was that recognition?

"Your ship - out in the parking garage. License TOL42?", he responded, taking a moment to glance and admire her friends. He sensed they'd had a little more than a few drinks this evening. The girl's stare turned from buzz-induced amusement into slightly more sober concern. Perfect.

With one of her eyebrows raised she quietly replied, "That's mine. It's.. on fire?", as if he hadn't just said it was. The black rabbit nodded in a melodramatically rueful way. The girl looked despairingly at the ceiling and swore. "My father will be so angry!" The black rabbit hid a grin, grabbed her hand, and began to drag her through the small circles of people out of the door into the breezy night air.

"We were coming in when we discovered the problem. You must have left your lights on and caused an electrical fire, but there are already some out there putting it out." The girl didn't say anything back. She looked dazed and was walking rather clumsily. Peering back, the black rabbit spotted her friends back in the same place. He imagined they shrugged and ordered another round of drinks. Some friends. He was doing her a favour, really. Yes.

Half way to the parking garage he stopped walking and tried to catch his breath. "What are doing?" demanded the girl, "Why have we stopped?" She wasn't quite sober enough to realize standing here while her ship was allegedly on fire was not a good choice for priorities.

After a short moment the interrupter looked up at the girl and grinned playfully. "It's been quite a number of years, Naomi, but I never envisioned you ever letting me hold your hand again." Sobriety suddenly flooded in and Naomi came to her senses.

"Icarus? Icarus, you fool!" she cried out and pushed him back. "What are you doing here? My father told you never to come near me again!" She seemed perplexed and apprehensive, but underneath Icarus sensed something of the old days, when they had often snuck out of their houses to sit with each other under the stars, before Icarus was falsely accused of killing his own family. Despite the charges proving false, Naomi's father never trusted Icarus again.

"Oh, there it is again! You see, my lovely Naomi, it is always about your father, isn't it? Your father's ship being ruined, your father believing murderous conspiracies, your father doing whatever. It's how you have always been. When will you grow out of that and come with me?" By now Icarus had moved in a little closer and was staring at her pleadingly. She loosened up from the shock. He hadn't tracked down this girl only for her to reject him.

Naomi sighed and looked towards the sky. "You don't understand," she said, "it -is- all about my father when it comes to you. He doesn't trust you, Icarus. And frankly I don't even know who you are anymore. I thought when you left for Diamondus all those years ago that I'd never see you again. I've been so worried with the news from there, though. What have you been doing?"

"I've been helping in the relief effort, unofficially. I help find people who want to escape on a private flight, then me and a buddy of mine transfer them to where they want to go for quite a substantial fee. I've gotten quite rich. Our latest drop-off was to Carrotus, and I had to come see you again. I had to see if you would go with me."

Naomi bit her lip. "Go with you? Where? You know I can't just suddenly run off, especially with you..."

"And why is that, Naomi? Oh, that's right! Because of your father. There it is again. You are responsible for yourself now, so come with me! We need to take one trip back to Diamondus to find anyone else who wants to leave, and then I am going to find a small town in Carrotus where I can settle down again and find real work. I don't even need to make a living with all of the money I've earned, Naomi, I just want a normal life." Icarus reached down and found her hand again. "Please, come with me."

Naomi was lost in a sea of doubt and confusion. This had all come upon her so suddenly, but she did have a desire to run off. The chain of her father had gotten too bothersome to ignore long ago, she wanted to break free. Moreover, she knew this is exactly the way he had wanted her to feel. He knew she would give in to him, and she knew this was her time to go. After a moment she sighed again and said, "Alright, I'll go."

"Great, because I didn't have a ship.."

I suppose this literally will be written by all of us.

Indeed. Well, I said I would and I did. Small, but oh well.

Chapter 13: The First Survivor

The flames burned, so bright, so deadly. They consumed his home, his family, and his innermost being.
Jesse Aimon watched the blaze dispassionately, not wondering if anyone but him had escaped. He knew they hadn't. He was the mistake. He should not have lived.
"Jesse? Oh, Jesse," the usually amiable Miss Savon cried out, rushing towards him across the flame-lit lawn. She had been their neighbor for three years. She was also a spy.
Jesse said nothing, and her false joy at his escape faltered. He privately admitted that she was a very good actress; her feigned horror was very realistic.
"However did you escape," she said with a trace of disapproval, ostensibly directed at the firestorm that had been Jesse's life. The quiet 17-year old gave her a hollow look, and she fell silent for a moment.
It had most likely been her who had lit the fire.
Now she shook her head. "I always told your father that his contrary ideas would get him into trouble," she said. "And now look. Come, Jesse, you can stay with me."
And be murdered in his bed. Jesse's previously directionless anger crystallized. He shook his head firmly and pulled away violently when Miss Savon tried to take his arm. He remained where he was despite her coercions.
She left eventually, but Jesse stood and watched until the fire burned itself out and all that was left was a charred husk, devoid of all life, scattered around with glowing embers.

When dawn came the tall, lanky, white furred teenager turned his back on the destruction and walked away wordlessly. The neighbors watched him go, but no one tried to persuade him otherwise. None of them wanted to end up like the Aimons, which they knew they would if they interfered. As long as they stayed uninvolved, they reasoned, the war could not possibly touch their small town. They would remain unaffected.
None of them wanted to admit that the war had already reached them. The Aimons were only the first casualties, and Jesse the first survivor.

13, ok this is getting out of hand.

Can't help it if this thread is popular =P So long as we keep track of it there should be no problem.