A dozen, a thousand Tinkerbelle's cry "But what about me?" and then they try to toss you off their island and throw you into Charlie Brown's ballpark where Lucy over and over again tricks poor Charlie...
"Wake up. Wake up." You hear Carmine's voice. She's shaking your jaw with her hand.

You open your eyes laying on your back, a cold mist dripping from black clouds into the slick wet alley with the stench of hydrocarbons and cheap Chinese food in the air.

"I was worried. I woke up from weird dreams about the Pillsbury Dough Boy, and you were still unconscious for over a minute. And yes, you definitely died. I saw you turn to dust in front of my eyes."

She leans over and pauses before she smacks you on top of the head.

"You dope. Don't do that again."

PT

Great. Carmine is a Tsundere. Not that I mind the idea, just the abuse that comes with it.

"Well," I try and get up. "in my defense, I wasn't aiming to kill myself. The magic went a little wild on me. Probably the Black mana. Reanimate works in a similar fashion, only without the..."

What on Earth am I babbling about? Magic isn't supposed to work like that at all! Now I'm starting to worry. Dreams don't have this kind of continuity, and reality doesn't work like that.

Bah. Guess I'll figure it out. For now, bearings.

"Where are we anyways? Smells like a cheap..." I look around. I'm going to place a wager that a Chinese eatery is around here, and that I'm smelling an air conditioner.

"Well, I didn't expect the 'I believe in fairies' spell I learned from watching the school play of Peter Pan to mean I was giving up my own life either. I guess magic has unexpected wrinkles and tricks, kinda like reality. You know its reality when it surprises you." She pauses. "At least that was what my Air Flow Dynamics professor use to say whenever something weird happened to one of our plane models."

She nods.

"I could go for some Chinese about now. Of course, does our money work in this reality?"

She helps you to your feet, not that you need it.

You see an air conditioning unit twenty feet down the alleyway.

PT

"Well, unless we are in a foreign country, our money should be good here. Let's see...contemporary setting, alleyway...hmm...I swear if I see the Punisher engaged in a drive-by firefight, I will dance the Robot. Why? Because it would be perfectly sane and rational at that point."

I take her arm and loop it in my own. What the heck. I'm feeling completely insane right about now. I start pointing my other hand at the city in a slow arc and am probably speaking in a tone too excited, all considering how a few seconds ago, I was engaged in a magical duel to the death. Which I lost, but apparently got better from.

"Let's go out for a night on the town. I mean a real one, not like the last one we had. Besides, it beats being constantly in danger, and I have no responsiblities tying me down this time. Food, then a roof for the night. Sounds like a plan." I grin at her. "Ready when you are."

She's agreeable, and links her arm in yours and apologizes for hitting you.

"You just had me so worried."

At the end of the alley is a three lane road with moderate traffic which hums along nearly silently. To your right is a tattoo parlor, a bookshop, and Wong Garden, a Chinese restauraunt from which delicious smells are drifting. Your stomach rumbles.

You enter and in the space between the outer and inner doors, you see a newspaper box with "New Yukonia Times". Inside the steamy restauraunt is about a quarter full, and the Oriental waitress bows to you both, and asks if you want buffet which is four bits, or if you want to order off the menu. The menu's prices range from 2d bits to 10 bits for rice soup cup and Glorious Emperor's Delight, respectively.

PT

At least we have eliminated English as a language concern. Before I order anything, I ask the waitress if the dollar bills I have on me are any good. If I recall, I left with about twenty to sixty worth.

Normally I'm better with finances than this, what with all the...wait a second. Where on earth did I leave my weaponry?

I mentally wave the concern off to focus on the worth of money.

The waitress looks at your dollar bills, and talks to a cook who collects foreign currency and 'kewl fake currency' as he calls yours.  He's willing to take most of your money in exchange for thirty bits.

Bits are small beads of gold on a metal chain with an imprint in the bead "Legal Tender: Republic of Yukonia."

In his opinion, he's doing you a favor.

You notice a vector, that sense of familarity, is above you and to your right.

PT

I thank him for the purchase, and return it by buying some food. That vector sense can wait. For the moment, food and relaxation. Two serving of Glorious Emperor's Delight. One for me and one for the lady. That leaves me with 10 bits.

Note to self: more prudence in the future, but for now, it doesn't matter.

I just ask a question out of the blue to Carmine once the waitress is done with the order. And then I don't. I just don't know what to say, because I shouldn't be able to reweave reality with words and will. Well, not that directly, anyways.

I just remain silent, just out of sheer mental confusion.

Carmine senses your mood, and begins to deliberately draw you out.  She asks questions, and then quietly waits for the answer, and then asks more until the food arrives.

Glorious Emperor's Delight is easily enough for two normal people. Which means you're good with yours.  Carmine is a bit alarmed and divides her plate in half.  She keeps the shellfish, the coconut shrimp, the bbq shrimp, the pork rice, the green beans, one of the chicken on a stick, and two boiled goose eggs with her bowl of egg drop soup.

"The rest is lunch for tommorrow." She says.  And then she begins asking more questions.

"Have you considered the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle?"

PT

"The Hiaso-whatsawhat?" I can't even pretend I know what she is trying to say. "I haven't even got a clue what you just said just now. I suspect, though, it has something to do with that recent dose of madness I just swallowed whole."

She looks a bit startled.

"Um. Okay. Heisenberg is a German scientist. He discovered it so it got named after him. It says that at the very small scale, like an electron, that you can't measure the speed AND the location of an electron. You can do one or the other.  Because the act of measuring one will change the other. Some people think this means that a sentient mind observing a subatomic particle changes it.  Thus will changing reality. What you were talking about."

PT

"Well, it sounds like a good theory. Kinda like relativity?"

I'd like to think I can follow this conversation, and I suspect if it goes on long enough, I'll eventually get the gist. It's amazing how stupid persistance can make a person seem smarter than they are, but I can pull it off with gusto.

I hope. That or I seem like a complete moron, but that's what happens when your girlfriend (yes, I used the word) is smarter than you.

"Well relativity says your different position, or frame of reference, can have you experiencing a different flow of time.  But thats the universe affecting you. This is you affecting the universe. You affected reality with your will and well, Heisengberg talked about affecting reality with your awareness. Awareness is pretty close to will, kind of..."

She is floundering a bit.

"What I'm trying to say is that maybe Magic is some sort of Mega-scale Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle. And you have to toss extra things in because different factors come into play at the megascale where we live than at the microscale where electrons dance."

Of course, you remember being filled with power and energy both glorious and awesome when you invoked white mana and terrifying and sickening when you invoked black mana.

Carmine looks at you as you mow your way through a third of the plate, and she mutters to herself. "Its so unfair."

PT

I smile. Little did I realize, I was about to engage in a long winded speech. "Trust me, it's not exactly a blessing. The idea of changing reality at will sounds cool until you can actually do it. I don't view this immortality, such as it is, as a blessing. It's a curse I have to make the most out of."

"Think about this: when we die, we are removed from the spectrum of further judgement. I was expecting to live for fifty to sixty more years before dying off naturally, provided something else didn't get to me first. Now, I can't be killed by anything else. I just wake up somewhere else, and apparently I can take others with me."

"By my reasoning, this means I have infinate opportunities to be tested morally, and therefore, infinate opportunities to fail, to renounce God. This is not the Lord's blessing, this one is the devil's curse, disguised as a blessing. So naturally, things are going to attack the foundations of my faith, my tie to God."

"This magic idea makes me very uncomfortable, because I now have new heights of temptation. Hubris is a real risk. You saw me back there, I honestly thought that I could take on two veteran spellcasters with my newfound abilities, and them alone. If I had been thinking, I would have just shot them."

"Maybe I'm just rambling. I don't know."

Now wait, don't stop there. You were just getting to the point of how being a reality-bending immortal with a equally immortal and beautiful woman was such a horrible thing now. I'm sure if you ran this past anyone else, you would have their deepest friggin' sympathies. Wuss. Leave it to my inner psychopath to put things in perspective again. Thanks a ton, brain.

"Well, maybe they were veteran spellcasters. I can buy that. But I think they were idiots too. On the plus side, you now have a chance, and I guess I do too, to get closer to God. Not something I'm the sort to be usually saying...but then who'd a thunk I was going to be Assistant Head of Research for the Celtic Kingdom of Appalachia? I liked my previous life as an aircraft designer for the military, but I have to admit this is much more interesting."

She pauses and you can see her changing the topic by the distant look on her face.

"Republic of Yukonia. Gold beads for money. Any clues? They speak English which is good. And there are Chinese restauraunts, urban environment....wonder if there is magic here too?"

PT

I slip my hand under the table and focus a moment. It's the spirit I have to keep tabs on. If it is the same powers I'm familiar with, Black is not evil. Selfish, capitalistic, pragmatic, often parasitic and corrupting. But not in and of itself evil. In fact, these are the things a city is made out of. On the other hand, White can be found here as well. Not necessarily good, because it represents order more than anything, it is nevertheless intertwined with the pulse of a city. In fact, my powers might be perfect here, as I can pull both.

But for now, I pull White. Even though an unlight will not draw as much attention, I'd rather pull something that I know can be released with little harm. Black rarely, if ever, allows me to use it in a benign fashion.

If it works, I have to release it. "Bless this structure and strengthen it's walls. Fortify." Figure I might as well make upkeep a little easier as a tip. I'm just hoping I'm not seen doing this.

OOC: Thanks for the explanation of Black from the M:tG perspective.

You feel a shiver of something, but it fades before you can grasp it. You try again, but nothing at all that time.

There might be magic here, but its not so easily grasped as at the Plain of Two Wizards.

The ground moves under your feet, and for a second you feel like you're on a roller coaster. You grab Carmine's arm, and she hangs on to you, and the sensation passes.

The ground seems steady.

People are looking around with a 'Are you allright?' look, but no one seems surprised.

PT

"That wasn't quite what I was expecting. Power is somehow harder to grasp here. Maybe it's just the power I was reaching for? I hesitate to reach for darker powers, though, because I can't release that energy without messing up something." I get back to eating. "Well, I can only hope it worked the way I had in mind. This place's food is good enough for me, and I hope that doubles as a tip."

I think more. "Oh, no." I stop eating. Oh, that would be such a joke. Paradox?

I start speaking to Carmine. "Some tabletop game I played. I'm thinking I might be bound by those rules, something about bending reality is opposed by reality reasserting itself violently. I'm hoping we aren't there, though."

"Maybe your mind is prepared to enter realities you've heard of before...no...that world where we flew and that guy speared us was weird, and I'm positive I never considered a world based on rival music factions."  She shovels the rest of her plate into her 'lunch tommorrow' box as you finish your plate, pleasantly full.

"So...its probably not this world you've 'played' in, even though I have no idea what you're talking about.  Odds are against it."

Two guys in suits walk in, and take off their fedoras. The room rustles uneasily and your 'trouble' senses go off.

The cashier opens up her register and gives them a large handful of 'bits', and then they turn to the crowd.

"What is it?" Carmine asks you. She can see the small signs of strain in your face, but she hasn't become aware of the heavies yet.

PT

"Those two fellows are either robbing this place or extorting it. One of the two. The problem is, I'm not sure how to deal with it. Not yet. Oh, and don't look where I am. Criminals hate direct staring, and I can ID them later. I'd rather not get into a fight here and now."

If a fight breaks out here, a lot of people other than me will be injured or killed. So, I'm seeking to avoid that unpleasantness.

Probably fail too, knowing my luck.

They walk around, one guy standing back a few feet, the other guy with his hat out asking for 'donations' in a sneering voice. Everyone coughs up some.

And then they come to you.

"I don't know you. New guy from the Icehouse, eh? Well, new guy, there's a new guy tax. Fifty bits."

You look across at Carmine. She has her hand cupped on her arm, and you notice that the Hoi Sin hot sauce jar is near her other hand even though neither of you used it this meal.

PT

I think a moment before responding.

"Okayyyyy..." I'm speaking deliberately right now. "Let me see if I'm listening to you correctly: you are asking for 'donations' for a fictional government tax, and you don't even have the common courtesy to at least stuff a weapon to my face before asking me?"

"*nsfw* off, vulture. Go find some other weakling to scrub off of, and be grateful I haven't decided to mop the floor with you on general principal."

"In fact, that's not a bad idea. Get out of here, before I turn your face into an abstract." I stand up at this point and stare at him. "And while you're at it, leave the money here."

His partner is the only one who worries me, but they are probably a organized criminal type. They won't kill me here, not unless they want some serious heat on their organization.

They stare at you in disbelief, their mouths gaping open. The first man reaches out to slap you over the ear, and you block it with your shoulder going inside but he still slaps your skull.

The next man circles around, and Carmine tries to fling Hoi Sin sauce in his eyes, but instead splatters his hair. He backslaps her across the mouth knocking her to the ground.

PT
OOC: Dice aren't your friend today.

I give a one of my trademark roars into his face, and deck the guy who tried to slap my ear right in the temple. If it connects, I intend to follow it up with a knee to the groin.

The guy who hit Carmine had better pray his partner doesn't go down.

The guy looks a bit startled at your roar, but not confused.  But your punch is sure and strong, and hits him in the jaw. The follow-up strike to his inner thigh raises a howl, and he staggers back holding his aching jaw.

Carmine tries to trip him, but she's too slow.

The other guy comes around his partner with his fists up, and well-balanced on his feet. He has one cauliflower ear.

Weak point, huh? My brain is always making the weirdest observations.

I push his partner into him, hopefully disorient them both, and then if Earman is actually still up, I intend to punch once for the bottom floating rib (opposite the ear), and then throw a hook into his ear. The one that's not pretty. Hopefully, my aim will be better this time.

My hand is likely bleeding if I swung with the intended force. Split knuckles can be rough. I attempt to use that pain to fuel my resolve.

"It's like being back home!" This I yell.

The man resists the push, and you nip his floating rib which makes him pale in pain. Earman ducks your punch, but Carmine kicks his leg, and slows him down enough for you to hook it perfectly into his ear.

He flies back a foot, and crumples bonelessly to the ground. Your hand seriously hurts, but the guy is knocked out.

The other guy starts to punch, but then stops.

"Whoa, no need to get all nasty here."

Carmine begins to stand up behind him.

OOC: Knock-out Punch 1@3

PT

Unlike my opponent, who is clearly stalling for time, I don't hesitate or talk smack. I aim my punch for just under his left eye, right over the sinus cavity. If this doesn't fold him, the follow up headbutt will. My hands are likely to end up a bit messy and might end up with a bit of a headache, but that's life.

In times past, this would be a rather questionably dirty punch on my part. Then again, this marks my first fight with extortionists.

He stumbles, wobbles, and hits the ground after your nose/eye punch. You think you may have broken his nose.

Carmine gets up and kicks him in the ribs which he doesn't feel because he's unconscious.

One old man across from you says...

"You better run, son. The Mafia doesn't like it when you beat up government tax collectors. Don't worry, we'll have a dozen different stories to tell the Made Men what you looked like."

PT

I smile. "Figured they'd thank us. Anyhow, thank you. Sorry about the mess. You can figure who's money belongs to who."

I do, however, loot them of any weapons they might have.

Whatever I find, I take the advice and leave. I'm thinking about what he said. Mafia and government tax collectors...that's not good.

"You know," I mention to Carmine. "If the mob is the government, that changes things. That would mean this place is likely on the razor's edge of anarchy. On the other hand, that means we need to find a place to lay low for a while. Heh, it's like my first days of college."

They have two small pistol like things, and one has a sap, and the other the hilt of a knife blade.

You exit from the back, and into an alley which is murky, stinky, and wet.

"I don't think I talked to anyone for the first month of college. And I agree, we need a place to hide out, and get some information." Carmine admits and then goes along with your idea. "Whew, what is that smell? Rotting fish, um mold, motor oil..."

"And that," I mention as I casually hand her the knife and one of the pistols. "would be the fragrant odor of urban decay. I've never seen it this blatant before though. That tell me this city should have gone down the drain, but it hasn't. There has to be something keeping it afloat. I'm of the theory that this is a foe that can be broken with time and effort. Assuming, of course, I don't get myself killed again."

I have a hunch that pulling Black magic would be much easier then what I attempted. Of course, the only way I can test this is to use it, and I really don't want to try this and mess it up around Carmine.

Meanwhile, I am going to try and get a newspaper. I hope there is one that is recent.

You stumble through the darkness, and into another alley equally fetid but less dark which is not really an improvement as it allows you to see what you're stepping in. From there, its around a corner to the right and suddenly you're in an alley that is well-lit and sparkling clean.

Looking back, you see a sharp dividing line with a dead fish cut in half like by a razor. Half is gone, and the other half has maggots squirming through it. Where one alley ends and the other begins is this sharp line dividing filth from cleanliness.

Puzzled, you walk in the nicely lighted with LED lights near the ground alley, and turn a corner and find a newspaper box. It takes your bits,and gives you back nine silver bits.

"The City Times Gazette"
"Year 24K113 AL. Monday."
"Produced under license from the Capo ti tutti capo."
Headlines...
"Unorganized criminals vacuum blasted."
"The Icehouse To Open Five Hierarch Era Computer Programmer-Archeologists."
"Capos discuss raising protection fees."
"Student Protest Over Fees Dealt With Leniently; Ten Dead."
"More Stringent Gun Control Laws Passed."

You notice there is no weather prediction, and the paper's symbol is a black ace of spades crossed with a pistol.

I just read over the paper. Hopefully, one word summurizes all of my feelings to Carmine.

"...what."

I read the lines again just to make sure I'm reading this correctly. "Okay, I think we are in the Twilight Zone. Seriously, how in the blazes did this happen? Even with 400 years to mess it up I cannot see this. And the tech level is likely to be schizo. But you know what the worst part is?"

"I'm convinced I could survive or even thrive here. That part actually bothers me, because this is an oppressive oligarchy where the only real god is currency. If I'm wrong I will be surprised." I look up at the skies. "So, God is putting me against myself, eh? Likely repayment for that smart aleck spell casting spree. Oh, well."

"Let's get a move on. I'll bet we can't afford these and will likely be brushed back to the poor sections of town to be exploited, but I'm going to push on anyhow. In fact...I've got an idea..."

I head along, fully aware that every time I say something like that, I'm about to do something really crazy, reckless or both.

"Yeah, no kidding." She reads from next to you, leaning on your arm. "Are you sure its been 400 years because that says 24 K 113. It could be 24,113 After 'L'." She pauses. "That makes no sense. I can't believe there'd be capos twenty four thousand years into the future. Forget I said that."

She frowns.

"Well, I don't know. I doubt God is displeased with you for resisting being enslaved to murder innocents. As to magic..." She shrugs and then when you say 'I've got an idea' she looks faintly alarmed even as she tags along.

PT

So, naturally, I walk into the high-rise parts of town, and start looking for information. What about? Naturally, what the prices of housing is across the city, and more importantly, how am I going to make money. Work and roofing. Food is out of the way for the moment.

OOC: GE 9 on your job search.

The tallest highrises are only ten stories tall. Guarded highrises are considerably more expensive.

You find listings on the bulletin board in the high rise lobbies for the following jobs:
1. Dogwalker and babysitter (lots of these).
2. High Rise Lobby Guard (some include a free apartment.)
3. 'High Pay! No Experience Required! Be a Barnacle Scraper!'
4. Icehouse Technician Level One.
5. 'Your friends at the La Cosa Nostra are always hiring. No one need go hungry or without a bed under the benevolent rule of the Capo.'
6. Society Orientation Greeter
7. Sparring Partner for Raymond 'The Dustman' Cord.
8. Newspaper Reporter for Gazette.
9. Robotics Repair Tech, Level Two.
10. Asst. Mgr. CheapNQuik store.
11. Delivery for (about five different companies want delivery men.)
12. Jeweler's Asst.
13. Magicians for Wainscotting Club.
14. Casino Dealers at the Aces Low Casino and Club.
15. Mortuary Attendants.

Carmine is able to get a job at a scientific supply company which she finds herself to be way overqualified for, but everyone thinks she's joking when she claims a degree in Aerophysics.

"Planes? Who would want a college degree in building model planes? You must be from some crazy era lady." Says one man quite loudly as he ushers you two to the door.

Well, in my case, High Rise Lobby Guard is the most likely for me, ideally one of the jobs with the apartment with it. The temptation to work for La Cosa Nostra is very real, and would be an ironic choice. Likely, one I'll take later. But I need more information about this place. I need to know why it works in direct defiance of my understanding of society and economics. And most importantly, I need to know who opposes the Mafia.

La Cosa Nostra...wow. Somewhere in the year 2000 an Italian is rolling in his grave.

Personally, I think it's cool Carmine got a job she's too good for. Why? Simple patience. A better job will be revealed. Likely, her superior's job.

You get the job as high rise lobby guard, and they hand you your uniform which is formed of some stiff, slick material.

"It aint' comfy, scratches until you get used to it, but it spreads out a punch pretty well, and it resists burners pretty nicely.  Legally, you're not allowed to carry more than this vibrostick..."

He hands you a nightstick, and shows you how it can be set on 'shudder'. He gives you a brush with it on your hand to show you what it feels like. It feels like someone just punched your hand very hard three times in a quarter-second.

"Drains the batteries rapidly, but you can buy new batteries. About six seconds of use. Can't buy a new life. And that reminds me...like I said, its illegal to own a burner, but if you happened to have one, and were able to keep it hid, why I would not be able to punish you. And face facts, if you get caught, you're still alive to get caught, eh?"

The roving manager runs five high rises and his name is Peter Carson. He's got a well-lined face, a slightly crazy eye, and a shrewd look about him.

"Your job is to keep out troublemakers, panhandlers, and our friends from the La Cosa Nostra, the Mafia, our fearless leaders. You handle each differently. Troublemakers kick them out and if need be, bruise them good. Panhandlers, we don't want vengeance so we toss them a bag of chips and run them off. The Mafia...be respectful, but give them the runaround. Lie, cheat...try not to help them in the most helpful way you can. Get me?"

PT

I'm rather liking Mr. Carson here. I'm going to presume when he says 'burner' he means 'handgun', not 'flamethrower' or 'Molotov'. Could mean some other kind of tech, but I doubt it.

That vibrostick is mean as Hades itself. Difficult to parry unarmed, and it would likely leave a vicious and large series of long bruises. Blocking is out of the question, as it would batter my arm apart. Batteries mean that anyone who intends to use one is funded or he stole it, so if I fight one, the guy might be trained.

Then again, I've been hired with ease. It's possible guards are a joke here.

"Regarding panhandlers," I ask at great risk of being preceived as a pampered moron. "what kind of vengeance are we talking about? Not that I planned on beating any to a pulp, but do they have a union?"

My guess is panhandlers are informants. This is such a wonderfully subtle and dangerous world. Like Cerceri the evil prison plane from D&D. Great fun here, yay.

Casually, you look at the pistol like thing you got from the 'tax collector'. It has a solid cylinder for a barrel with no hole in it to let out the bullet.

Mr. Carson was quite pleased to get you.

"Panhandlers don't have any thing to do all day except beg and think of ways to mess over those who've injured them. I know one building got burnt to the ground last year.  And its not that they have a union, but they do all look out for each other."

PT
OOC: And still secrets to be found....

"That's odd. But, whatever. I'll treat them as required."

I'm looking at the weapon, while I go try the uniform on. How in the world does this thing work? Perhaps it's magic-tech or something like that? More to the point, how am I going to find out?

I draw on the ordered enviroment around me, attempting to pull White mana into myself. My objective is to cast Enlightened Tutor, and ask the powers of order how this device works. I'm hoping one of them will give me an idea how this device functions.

A cleaning robot comes around the corner, and goes straight to you, leaving a clean line of street behind it.  The bot is perhaps a foot tall.

"Yes, human?"

The voice is hard to understand as its more beeps and buzzes than an actual voice, but you get the gist.

PT
OOC: 1@2 Summon Enlightened Tutor.

Wow. This is a heck of a lot different from the spell I was expecting. I expected more of a sage. To be fair, though, I'm half-surprised the spell worked.

But okay, this world's guardians are different. So I'm dealing with a Modron. Fine by me.

I hold the cylinder gun up. "Okay, this thing has no hollow for its barrel, and I hesitate to test fire it. I know it is a weapon, but I do not know what it does, or more specifically, what to expect if I were to discharge it at an enemy."

"It is a HED, or Heat Expressive Device, colloquially called a 'burner'. It projects twin lines of microwave radiation out to seventy feet. Each tenth of a second a two hundred pound target is in the beam raises his temperature one degree. Death is possible after three-tenths of a second, a virtual certainty after one second. Note: This is more damaging than a fever because the rise is nearly instantaneous.  Its also of use for cooking eggs on sidewalks."

PT

"That's...pretty nasty. Still, no worse than some of the things I've suggested or done. So I point the business end at people, pull the trigger, and they die from microwave cooking their internals. Got it. Before I dismiss you, since you probably have things you'd rather be doing, I'll make this my last question: How can I reload it, if applicable?"

"Ten shots, no refill. You simply take it down to the Gunfabber's Guild, and get a new one."

It clicks, and then it begins to clean the street in front of you in precise pattern. Now you know what kept that street clean, and what sliced the dead fish in half.

PT

10 shots, no more and no less. I would have to be careful with this one.

Well, I begin my appointed rounds, if work starts today. If not, I'm going to my new apartment to give it a look.

You open doors for little old ladies, and help a kid fix his 'destructo-bot' toy, and a panhandler comes in and tells you his name is Jake, and do you have any food.  He seems to be evaluating you.

Later, Carmine comes by, and you both go up to the apartment which is...really small. There is a college dorm sized refrigerator with a hot plate built in to the top of it.

Its workable if you fancy cooking bent over to your knees, or resting on your knees.

"The day was easy for me. Some scum from the La Cosa Nostra, more of our friends from the restauraunt, came by and 'taxed' me as a new employee.  I'm wondering if anyone here has like boxing or karate classes.  I already know that most people can't have guns. Its illegal." Carmine is unloading the stress of the day, and you can tell she's still a bit hot under the collar about having to give up money to the Mafia.  "I suppose I should like this. I'm Italian-American, but these guys just make me want to spit."

PT

"These guys would be an insult to any culture, even the one they claim to have. 'The Our Thing?'" The translation of La Costra Nosa. "Seriously, I swear the ground rumbles everytime I hear that butchered Italian. Likely, that would be your ancestors rolling in their graves. The legacy of the FBI's mistranslation lives on."

"On my end, I've had a panhandler size me up. Maybe he's wondering if a few of his buddies could take me in down time, maybe he was testing my honesty. Who knows. What I've learned is my spellcasting works depending on the area I'm in. Here, I can heal and call on order. In the other parts of town, I'm limited to nastier ideas."

"And regarding your problem...I don't think we can engage in skirmishes with these guys all the time and win. Not yet. For an external attack to succeed, we need to know why the government allows them to exist. Usually, it's a handful of corrupt souls oppressing the many. If the chain of corruption can be broken in key locations, it might give this city a breather."

"If I have to dress in a costume to fight crime at night, I'm going to just surrender myself to the cliche this world is becoming."

"The Mafia IS the Government. The Capo ti tutti capo is the Leader of The City."  She smiles at your knowledge of history and defense of her people.  And then she moves on.  "And the tech is real odd. I worked with stuff that I'd consider antique junk, and I worked with stuff that had me dazzled. Machines at my work place, I mean."

She shook her head.

"And someone asked me how I liked the Icehouse. Not knowing what to say, I said 'just fine' which worked. I got someone else ask me that too. I think its a newbie thing."

She smiles.

"I'll be glad to sew you up a costume, but I get to be a sidekick."

The Icehouse? Something tells me I should know what that means, but I suddenly feel very ignorant in this world. I must remember this Mafia is a corruption of a corruption, and conduct myself accordingly. Knowing origins is one step, but dealing with the...wait, what did she just say?

"You're suggesting this in all seriousness? I meant it as a jest."

You sure? Ah yes, my inner psychopath. Never, ever, ever shuts up. I took it just as seriously as she did, which means your jest had a source. You thought of this, and even have a half-plan, don't you?

"But...supposing we did go through with this...absolutely insane idea, we need a fallback. We need to look for information first. So, nothing in the short term. For now, we need to discover who knows what. We need to know the public face of government, and we need to know who's allowing this to happen."

"This, however, is not a endeavor of kindness I'm pursuing. If I actually act on this madness, people in this city, this planet, if needs be, will become so terrified of doing evil that none is done. I intend, no, expect to make us into the only evil in the world. The Boogeymen of legends."

Hey, that's a new idea. Charm her some more Romeo. Every woman loves the idea of eviscerating a murderer. After all, you are more aware than most of the taste of darkness. Give her a sip of that good stuff. Cheers.

"Half-serious. Besides, I figure the best place in the world is two feet behind you. I'm less likely to get shot that way." She smiles tauntingly, and you're not sure just how much of that is serious, or what parts are.

She thinks a bit, and then nods.

"I'm familar with the virtues of crazy and terror as well. Remember, I was a scientist on an Air Force base before you dragged me off to see the Multiverse. We had a strategic doctrine, MAD, Mutual Assured Destruction. In order to avoid slavery to the Communists, we were prepared to burn the world to ash.  And I helped design the planes to do just that."

She pauses again.

"However, I've never heard any thing that might indicate a planet beyond. No one has ever said 'I'm going to the country.' or 'the farmers outside The City' or 'this creek comes from the mountains.'. I mean Nothing. Na da. Its always The City. Period."

PT

"Perhaps the planet is an ecumenopolis? Or maybe there's just a giant wall around the city, like AEon Flux or Judge Dredd? Even if it is simply surrounded by water, all kinds of could exist to isolate a culture. It would explain the income and the uncontested power the mob has. Likely, they lose minor battles a lot, but as long as they hold the city when the day ends, it doesn't matter."

This gives me an idea.

"The docks. That is usually the core of organized crime. Lots of victims and recruits rolled into one. If we can deprive them of the docks, their grip should weaken."

"The only problem is the basic question: who takes it afterwards? And how is it possible to break their hold on the city without anarchy seizing the city? That power vacuum will be filled by somebody."

"Baby steps: we need to know who's honest. As the phrase goes: the deeper the darkness, the brighter the light. There's got to be one. You encountered anyone at work who gives you a good impression?"

"Ecu...what is that?"

She shrugs.

"You could take your best girl on a stroll of the city which happens to include the docks. Just an innocent little walk to get some air." She smiles mischievously.

"At work, well no, but the sausage vendor down the street struck me as a real decent guy. Shaq the Sausage Seller is his nom de business."

PT

"Why not? And if we get mugged, well, their loss." Okay, so I've gotten rather cocky. Perhaps justifiably so.

This whole time, I've been aware of the possibility the enemy might have spellcasters of their own. Granted, the magic is different, but I keep in mind my earlier question could have been answered through Black. Either an advanced spell called Demonic Tutor (who answers because it has faith in the darkness of it's lessons), its jerk understudy Vampiric Tutor (who wants the caster's blood), or the most common version Demonic Consultation (who want my soul aka youth). If those options are open to me, they may be open to my foes. And some of those options among others are truly nasty spells.

I get ready to go for a stroll. I bring the burner, since I haven't seen any slugthrowing weapons. (And for that matter, I haven't found my usual machine and it's gear. Odd. Otherwise I'd just float around the world like some omnipotent god.)

Several people look at you oddly when you ask where the Docks are, but you make it to a door in a wall with a shed for a toll booth in front of the airlock door.

You do check on that odd feeling you had, that vector, and it did lead you back to the Chinese restauraunt, and the alley you arrived in, and then around back to a staircase to the roof where your timeship is parked in the closest spot it could fit. Its sitting on the roof of the Chinese restauraunt.

You study it a bit, and then Carmine suggests coming back for it later after going to the Docks.  It takes about a ten minute stroll to get to the Docks.

"You want to walk the Docks. That will be one silver bit for each of you for a spacesuit, and sorry, but I'll need an extra silver for the Mafia. Transaction tax."

The man is trying to wake up, and you can see he has a burner too.

"I'd let you in for free, pal. Seeing as you're one of us, but the boss wouldn't like it. Besides, the Observatory is really the better place to get a look at the stars outside The City."

Spacesuit? Hmm...

"That sounds reasonable." As I see if I can actually pay him, I start thinking. A spacesuit. If we are on a space station, it would serve to explain the isolation that would allow this culture to dominate. It would also explain how supplies keep coming in, and why the supply source has not dominated this culture and replaced it with a healthier one.

Provided my theory is correct, it could allow me a new avenue of approach, and perhaps I won't have to get as extreme as I thought it would.

You and Carmine suit up, and you can see Carmine's eyes glowing.

*Outer space* she mouths. You've been in space already aboard a battlemech.

The doors sealing vibrates the floor as you pass through the airlock, and walk out on to jutting fingers of steel and stone lit by harsh spotlights.  An asteroid is having something done to it by several dozen robots at the end of one dock.  A dozen men trudge by in spacesuits with the word 'prisoner' o n them, and one has 'guard' for its backplate instead.

The magnetic shoes keep you fixed to the dock and don't let you float off into space.

The stars streak by in short lines.

"Um..." Carmine starts figuring out loud in some esoteric language of symbols and jargon. "Um." She sounds nervous, and grabs your hand for support. "Mentat, we're, rough calculations only, but we're doing between seventy and ninety percent of c, lightspeed I mean, right now. Enough to have some minor time shifting. This is not a space station.  And I can't recognize any of the stars even if I mentally correct for the lines of starlight."

PT

"What's your theory on this? It strikes me as some kind of colony craft, with a...that close to light-speed? Yeah, that's causing some temporal issues. And the machine will have limited use here, considering how all airspace is literally controlled. So, I'm guessing the bad guys rule by sheer virtue of the fact that they can literally kill everyone at any time. All they'd have to do is open a port and blast the air out, or just cut off supplies if they sought to humble."

"Maybe we are in another system. That, or the angle is just wrong. We don't have a reference to where Earth is in relation to us, or even if it exists."

I steady her at this point. "Relax. We aren't in any immediate danger, and this is as new to me as it is to you."

Hey, check that out! In the future, there will be...Human Labor! What advancements this society has made!

"I'm thinking either a colony ship, sublight travel to another star system, either for exploration, or because the Sun blew up, and they are refugees.  It could be some sort of trading vessel, but I don't see that."

She chews on her lip.

"I'd like to get a look at the front of the ship, and the back.  It could be a Bussard ramscoop that gathers in hydrogen gas from the void, and uses it to power fusion drives.  But honestly, something this large, I'd like an anti-matter drive.  I mean, this is a City. The energy requirements to push this place to even a fraction of lightspeed have to be insane."

She starts mumbling, and you hear phrases like 'terrawatt', and '1000 times the output of Hoover Dam every second' and 'momma mia.'

"I think we're in interstellar space. We'd generate enough gravity....mass times speed equals more mass equals more gravity....well, I hope the designers of this place didn't plan on destroying solar systems in passing by. No, they wouldn't. Such gravitational stresses would tear the City apart in return. No, whoever designed this place had to be pretty good engineers."

PT

"Well, I guess it's tour time." I start walking out.

The last time I was in space, I was piloting a massive machine. While it is exposure to null-gravity, walking through space on foot and doing it from a fifty-foot machine are two different things. This is going to take a bit of getting used to, as the boots and maybe negligable surface tension are the only things that are keeping me from floating off. I keep this in mind.

I also keep in mind the idea that a guard would be versed in zero-gravity tactics, and remind myself to respect the enemy if encountered. I don't have to destroy this evil here and now, and this is an information run.

And boy am I learning. My plans just underwent a rapid revision in the past thirty or so seconds.

So, let's look at this logically: They have a system that if tampered with will kill everyone, without exception, while we are immortal. Fast solution to all problems is to consider this a lost cause, deal with it accordingly, and move on.

My inner psychopath just will not shut up. I wonder what's really bothering me right now? Maybe it's the fact you don't want to admit to yourself you are on a date, or the closest thing your messed up neo-life will allow to one. Okay, nevermind then.

The front of the ship shows some sort of forcefield to keep interstellar dust from smashing into the ship like railgun shot. Its surprising how much damage a speck of dust could do at one-third the speed of light, Carmine explains.

You find yourself learning cosmology and high-energy physics in patchwork fashion with her.

You also find that you've learned more about walking as magnetic boots in null g are not something you're used too.

Toward the rear of the ship, you see a brilliant spear of light even though your helmet glass darkens to near black. Carmine studies.

"Antimatter Drive. I thought so. Really, it was the only thing that made sense. Well, that or some form of undiscovered propulsion." She leans up against you, and you can hardly feel her weight through the heavy armored suit. "I'm very glad I met you. You've shown me marvels beyond my wildest imagination."

PT
OOC: +@1 Cosmology, High-energy Physics, and Walking (new use.)

I tentatively embrace her back one armed. "Well, our meeting circumstances were kinda awkward, but...I'm glad I met you too."

I'm going to puke now at your sappiness. Honestly. I'm going to churn your stomach, and make you vomit in your spacesuit just to stop this. Or so I guess he would have said if I could hear him. Nope, can't hear a blasted thing. I'm just enjoying the view of space.

And my brain points out these suits get oxygen from somewhere, utterly ruining my blessful train of thought. Stupid brain, always thinking about something other then the present. I check the oxygen briefly and make sure we are not running out.

You have about ten minutes before you need to head back, even with a safety margin of another ten minutes. You enjoy the time together, and she tells you a few jokes about antimatter, and a few more about Italians, and too soon its time to head back.

Nervousness about being outside too long quickens both your actions, and you're actually back inside, and unsuited fifteen minutes before time was up.

The security guard cocks his head, and motions you over to him to speak quietly.

"On the qt mate, but the blue circles on the wall outside are air exchange. Carry a collapsible double pipe/pump, and you can stay out there for three-four hours in perfect safety, and really no one cares except the occasional jerk of a supervisor."

PT

I smile at the guard and thank him. Might as well, considering how I got my first spacewalk and he told me how to stay in space longer. Collapsable double pipe-pump and blue circles. I'll go into more detail on that one.

"Let's go home. I don't know about you, but I've got a few things to think about."

You go home, and break out the pens and paper to think. She starts making shrimp primavera, Caesar salad with homemade dressing, and a pair of strawberry slushies for drinks.

She's briskly efficient in the kitchen, and when you offer to help, she grabs up a wooden spoon and chases you out of the kitchenette area. Keeping to the tsundere, she really tries to smack you with it, and so you have to dodge quite quickly.

"My space, you stay out."

Dinner is served a few minutes later. Afterwards, she reads your notes, and asks you some questions about your plans.

PT

One wonders what I was thinking when I tried to go into the kitchen. Note to self: Carmine equates crazy awesome. Caution advised.

For the most parts, I am honestly at a loss. Left to my own devices, I could very easily settle down and not go beyond that. But the day would eventually come when this influences would reach me, and my tolerance for threats to myself or my loved ones is minimal at best.

So, how to break the power of a group that has held its way for years?

Currency. Everything here revolves around the almighty dollar. My inner psycho suggested simply printing off so much counterfeit cash the entire system collapses and corruption becomes irrelevant. Apparently, he's an advocate of anarchy as a means to an end, because that would be the result. But taking the most direct path is not the best path. Violence, contrary to the phrase, is always a solution, but it is rarely the best solution.

I'm a spellcaster, and a determined one. And I have the feeling my abilities are rare at best here. Something tells me that.

"I think we already made some progress today, simply by talking to the dock guard. For now, I'm suggesting we learn more. We both make money, and we learn who is who. Take it slow, considering the idea I have is definately changed. Let's hope my earlier speech was just me being super dark and overtly dramatic."

A month passes, and you see little sign of magic, but a spot here and there indicates undercurrents. You both make friends and money, and fall into an easy is reclusive routine.

You find out what the Icehouse is. Its a cryonic storage facility.

The Mafia is but one of the variations of rulership that has been tried over the millenia. And some of the people you talk with occasionally say strange things like..."In my third awakening, in the late nineteen thousands, the Plutocracy Era, we built these docks. Good quality too, to be still in use nearly five thousand years later."

PT

And the Plutocracy Era is the one that seems doomed to repetition. Odd, how no one speaks of better times. That would likely be the best direction to take my research in.

I won't have to go outside of the use of White magic at least. Evil though Black is not evil, it certainly is not pleasant, and it gives knowledge with the expectation of payment; immediate, or with interest.

I use that Enlightened Tutor spell again. I'll be surprised if it gives me all the answers at once, but my expection is that it will tell me where to begin my research into the real backhistory of this place. History is often written by the victors, and I have a feeling this place is no exception.

The robot cleaner rolls up to you again.

"This is a group of people, travelling through time and space, sleeping, waking, sleeping again, meeting old friends lost for millenia, and losing them again to the cold ice. Each new era has different assortments of people, different rules. But one thing remains the same through it all. The robots, and their Master."

PT

I thank the machine for the aid. That will be my goal, discover where the robots go for maintenance and discover the AI running this place. Likely, this whole place is due for carbonite freezing or the equivalent, so I either don't have long, or it won't matter. One of the two.

I'm going with the presumption that it matters. Namely because there is option #3: they are due to wake up, and heads will roll when they do.

I need something infilteration based, and to my utter surprise, Black magic (at least the kind I use) has astonishingly little in the way of that. It can kill, weaken, make servants of the dead and crack sanity, but its idea of infilteration involves playing off of paranoia and fear. Machines are immune to both, and it will be auto-defenses I will need to bypass. White could also simply blow the arfifice to bits, but that doesn't help me any considering how flashy it is about it.

I do know of one method within the realm of Black magic that has been done, but like many of Black's spells, it carries a price tag: consistance maintenance or else it breaks down.

I would be simpler to feed the moral corruption with a bribe, and simply get a temporary pass.

Carmine will want to know about this, so I'll tell her about it. She'll never let me live it down if I go without her anyways.

"That makes sense. I mean, these guys are simply not smart enough, not good enough to run a spaceship. The AI and the robots run the important things, and they let the Mafia run the unimportant stuff. But why?"

And when you tell her about moral corruption, she frowns.

"You know, if you're looking for magic, maybe there's another source. I mean, I read in the Bible how the angels made Lot's house door invisible to the mob. And of course, there's those legends of tarnhelms in the Nordic legends. Caps that make you invisible." She grunts to herself, a most unladylike sound. "Carmine, you're a physicist which means ...." She pauses, and changes her mind. "Which means you should follow the evidence where it leads."

She fixes you with a piercing gaze.

"What exactly do you do when you do magic?"

PT

"In my particular case, I draw the essence of the world into me, and shape it with will, and release it reformed. That's at least the closest thing to a sensible explaination I've got. It's likely more complicated. Terrain tends to play a role in what I am able to shape it into. In the case of the two I draw on, swamps or places of decay are strong sources of Black, while fields or places of order are good sources of White."

"But what do I actually do? Mostly I chant a stupid line and make something up. Memories, mostly, are my biggest source of spells. Memories of a card game I used to play before all this...whatever happened. As a result, my abilities seem to be limited to what is the equivelant to geomancy. In the equivalent case of Lot, my known abilities would do that, but only for confounding pursuit. It would not allow us to go invisible and infilterate."

I half-smile at this idea. "The color of safety is typically reactive, an irritating limitation. The color of death, on the other hand, isn't as stealthy as it would like others to believe. In other words, I can support an existing plan with spells, and if this were a brute force situation, I could solve it with magic alone. This, however, requires delicacy. If it goes wrong, we have no retreat."

"White magic might have one ability, but the method used...hey. I just remembered a decent one. It won't sneak us in, but it is a good idea. It's a spell called Reconnaissance. It's an older spell, but it will grant us a short range teleportation back to a designated regrouping zone if we are about to get caught in an undesired fight. It will be an appreciated extra layer of insurance, despite its specific triggers. It won't protect against a trap."

"Right." Carmine chews on her hair, and then nods. She clears the dining room table, and begins to write.
--If X = Galactic Energy Hour, then Y = 1/10,000,000 of X and E = 1/10,000,000 of X, then X ...."

She pauses and draws a pair of parentheses and places X in the center of them.

She chews her hair some more, and stares hard at her equation.

"Run." She murmurs.

A point of hot white light appears in the center of the table. Its about 200 watts, and 300 degrees, and an inch across.

It starts to blacken the table, and Carmine straightens up with pure astonishment crossing her face.

PT

"Did you just cast a spell?" That's my first and most rational guess. "Because if so, nice shot. We'll need a new table, but who cares? And the fact yours...my limitations are pretty clearly defined. Yours aren't, which is an advantage and a weakness."

"And, yeah, I forgot to mention the part where I envision a land in my mind first, but I guess you used conception instead. That works too, apparently." I'm just scratching my head in wonder, but then again, this shouldn't have surprised me. Right when I think I've got everything figured out...

"I think so. Yes. Yes, I did. It was a mixture of physics, algebra, and computer programming. Do you think you could quench it?"

The table is turning black, and smoke is curling up from the table.

"I defined the elements to a reasonable amount of preciseness without being overly finicky. And then I gave the spell a place to operate. And then it was 'run', and wa la, here we are, capiche?"

This message was deleted by the player at 23:03, Wed 20 May 2009.