That damnable mutated psi dragged his aching hide back into the Red Dragon Inn. He had left the younger Nine to mull over her options while he checked on the status of his hangout and to get a fix on Brimstone. He also wanted to see the rest of the gang. He normally wasn’t one for convoluted cliques, but the interesting cross- culture of creatures that paid his kind… well.. kindness, sort of rubbed off on him. That and he wanted to heck on Danielle and the kid. He gave as roguish a smile as could muster than sat down at the bar to face the maternal maitre. “How’s the baby?” he asked.

            She leaned forward on her elbows. “Like an angel,” she replied, just above a whisper. “A perfect angel. Don’t you worry.”

            “Good. And Brimstone? He still giving you flack?”

            “Haven’t seen him for a while now. Not since the night he gave your little one to me.”

            The psi frowned. “I haven’t seen the tin can either.” As he mulled on this point, he slowly took in the bar scene. Goury was once again trying to help his friend Merrick. The current tact was to talk to Charon, whom had a woman’s insight, to see if the lady Merrick wished to court was approachable. The end result was Charon offering to help educated poor Merrick in the ways of woman. It almost brought a chuckle to Tim’s tired soul as he turned back to Danielle. “Can I have a cup of tea, Cupcake?”

            From anyone else, it would have been an insult. The tall bartendress took all of his nicknaming in stride and actually found it endearing in a way. “Tea it is,” she smiled as she stood up to set a pot to boil.

            With her acing away, he could ask a few more detailed inquiries without getting himself flustered. “I was wondering. I haven’t thought of a name for her. Actually we consider it bad luck to name a child. Usually the child earns its name through the deeds it performs, but if You were to name her, no protocol would be breached. I just don’t want to call her Dusk, even though she’s possessed by that… thing.” He shuddered a bit, curling a lip in disgust.

            Danielle returned with the tea. “I… uhm.. already took it upon myself to name her in your stead. I wasn’t sure if you’d return. I meant no disrespect.”

            “Nonsense,” he smiled. “That was very practical on your part. Please. What name did you decide on?”

            She giggled, relieved that he was not upset with her. “It’s silly, but I just call her Bree. She looks like she’s gonna be a Bree.”

            “Bree? That’s a good name. Simple. Guttural. I like it. Thanks, Pumpkin.” He reached out over the counter and gave her a soft nudge on her chin with his hand.

            She smiled at his gesture. She noticed that Tim did these odd gestures often, as if physical movements were part and parcel of his speech. She refilled his cup. “You can go see her if you want. She’s sleeping on my bed in my room.”

            He perked up quite a bit at the offer. “Really? You wouldn’t mind?”

            “Not at all. Just stay out of the underwear drawer. You seem like one of those types.” Of course said this in jest but he failed to smile, instead quickly swallowing what was surely boiling hot tea. She couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but her favorite bad boy was off. Then again, he just lost his mate. He probably was in deep mourning despite his attempts to show how off-handed the event was to him. It seemed that mention of his baby brought a slight spring to his step as he ambled up the stairs to visit with his heir.

            It was a half hour later until she could break away from the bar to check up on father and daughter. He was sitting on the edge of her bed, slowly rocking the wee one in his arms. The normally vibrant man looked very tired and worn out, but still managed a smile, this one devoid of his greasy charms and his slick back salesmanship as he draped a small necklace over the baby’s neck, a charm dangling smartly. “Don’t worry, Dusk,” he murmured. “We’ll figure this out.”

            Nine slipped into the Dark Tavern, having been drawn in by the mere words as they matched her mood. There were plenty of folks milling about the place, extending pleasantries and insults. In all, it made her comfortable enough to sit at the bar. “Beer, please?”

            The woman next to her snorted in disgust. “Why do so many drink something so bad for them?”

            The bartender dipped a mug in a open barrel and placed it in front of the mutant before answering. “We drink because we don’t care, or don’t want to care. Tea is fabulous, though.”

            That comment brought a gagging sound from the other side of the bar as a customer wretched at the though of drinking such a vile, weak liquid.

            Nine ignored it all, reaching out for the mug, not caring that it was wet and somewhat sticky. She just slammed the brew back as if dying from dehydration.

            “Thirsty?” the bartender asked, a bit amazed that such a small girl had that healthy an appetite.

            Only when she drained the mug and placed it in front of him did she reply. “Yes. Another, please?” Despite the displeased wrinkled nose of the woman seated to Nine’s right, the tender dunked the mug again and sat it in front of the girl, whom drained it with the style and grace of a pig. She placed the mug down again, wiping her hands on the skirt of her dress, matching the fingermarks and smudges already present on the garb.

            This the bartender also noted as he retrieved her third drink. “Take as many as you like, Milady.” He paused a moment, holding the drink aloft. “A name for the face, MILADY?”

            “Nine. My name is Nine.”

            “Salik, Milady Nine.”

            The woman seated next to her still had her nose upturned in disapproval of the alcoholic smells. “This is about as interesting as racing a human,” she snorted once again.

            Nine snorted in agreement. “Who would want to race them? They’re slow and sloppy.” Apparently the woman didn’t consider herself human for some strange reason. Nine knew she wasn’t, so the conversation was valid.

            “Exactly,” the woman nodded as she looked the petite girl over. “Wanna race?” she asked.

            “No,” Nine replied, taking some time with her new drink, draining only half its contents before pausing. “I just wanna drink and rest a bit. Been scurrying about out there for three days now, and I think I’ve given them the slip.” She turned, seeing the bartender looking a bit afeared. Perhaps he was human and had taken the woman’s comments to heart. “Don’t fret, Mr. Salik. We couldn’t race you. You’re supplying the beer.”

            That caused the man to smile. “Oh, is that all I’m good for now?” he leered in jest.

            Nine wasn’t so blind as to see his reply was just that, a jest; not to be taken seriously. “That’s all I need for now. Consider that a blessing.”

            Funny, Salik thought, she looked barely old enough To be dating. “Fine, Milady Nine.”

            But something else had caught Nine’s eye. A man, or at least what she thought was some sort of wild man, was sitting at the other end of the bar. Sporting was seemed to be traditional in trenchcoat wear and matching black jeans and boots, but was barely taller than Nine in stature. Unbelievably long silver hair cascaded down his back. She had thought him to be an elf, until he yawned, revealing several rows of needle sharp teeth. “Whoa,” she marveled, draining the last of her brew, setting the cup down, then making her way across the room towards the creature, circling around him once before facing him. “Who engineered you?” she finally asked, convinced he was much like her.

            He watched her warily, but gave her a slight smile. “I never knew my parents,” he admitted.

            “Neither did I. I think they call creatures like us ‘test tube’ babies. Who’s your Doc? Gotta be an Ichthyologist with that set of chompers.”

            He was a bit puzzled, so decided that maybe he should clear the air, and possibly the room when he revealed himself. He pulled off his trenchcoat, freeing his large membraned wings. “I’m a demon. See?”

            Her eyes widened, as he surmised they would, but not in fear. “Way cool! Somebody told me about youse guys.” Again she circled him, taking in the whole picture. “You breathe fire and brimstone like dragons, right? Drink blood? Eat human flesh?”

            The woman at the bar shook her head slowly. “She must be blind,” she muttered under her breath to the bartender.

            The demon seemed set back by the barrage of questions. He had expected her to scream in fright and bolt for the nearest exit. Instead he opened a bucket of worms. Damn lively worms too. “I don’t eat much meat anymore. You mean you’ve never heard of demons before?”

            “In fairy tails. We don’t have live ones where I come from. I’m sort of.. New.. Here...”

            “Really?” the woman at the bar snarled sarcastically. “I had no idea.”

            Nine ignored the comments. “So what do you do? Fly, right? Does stuff like holy water hurt you? Do you fight angels? Do you believe in God? What’s Hell like? Do magic spells work against you? Can You use magic...?”

            He was holding his hands up to ward off the barrage of questions, but found the whole scene amusing. “No, I’m not from hell. Yes, I believe in God, but I don’t really like him...”

            As he tried to keep up with the line of questioning, the woman at the bar, Serena slowly slipped off of her perch and walked up behind Nine with a growl in her throat. “You must be blind.”

            The blade warned her, the vibration it emanated down her spine almost commanded her to turn and face the statement. She did miss the demon’s skin flashing from white to a deep red as his body was engulfed in a blue flame. Even if Nine had seen this technicolor show, she still would have opted for what she took as a threat. Even now she reached behind her shoulder and Hybrid eagerly leapt into her hand, allowing itself to be drawn forward. “What is Your beef?” she demanded of the rude woman. “Are you some sort of demon too?” Not getting a direct answer, the mutant made a firm move. She yanked the pouch from her belt. “Look, All I want is a drink and I’ll be gone.” She hefted the pouch over her left shoulder, the wrapped coins landing on the counter next to her empty mug to pay for the drink and to cover for any damages she felt she was about to inflict.

            The woman snorted once more, looking down her nose at the now armed and somewhat dangerous girl, then turned on her heel, ignoring the challenge in full. “Later,” she smirked just as she left the bar.

            Nine snorted herself, nodding as Randall walked in, pausing only when he saw the girl armed in an empty room. He looked about the place, but even the bartender had vacated. Confused, he looked back at the mutant, whom allowed Hybrid to return to his perch. “Stupid demons... I wasn’t gonna hurt them...”

            “What happened, Nine? You chase everyone out of the bar?”

            “Oh I finally get to meet some new people and one of them gets all huffy.” She sat back at the bar, reaching over to refill her mug in the open vat. “I was just asking questions, for Teeth’s sake.”

            “The way they were beating feet.. You must have been asking some very tough questions.”

            “Nah.. Just the basic stuff. You’d think that demons would be.. I dunno.. Tougher?”

            “They were Demons?” Nine seemed to have all the luck, bad luck if any of the rumors Randall had heard were true. “They went by so fast I didn’t notice. Are you sure?”

            “Yep. Wings. Horns. Teeth. The whole nine yards.” She once again drained the mug and wiped her face with the back of her sleeve, setting her mind to a more pressing point. “Commander still want’s my hide over the mantel?” A lack of an answer told her all she needed to know, but she still felt she had to justify herself even as she rolled her eyes at the man’s stubbornness. “You know, once I calmed I was sorry. I really didn’t want to Kill him. Just hurt him a little.. Well.. Maybe a lot, but damn..” She shook her head, staring at the mug, not wanting to see what Randall thought of her. “You know he’s gonna but me up in front of a firing squad at least. What I did was treason.”

            Randall would have rested a comforting hand on her shoulder, but he knew better. “I can try to talk to the Skipper to get him not to bring you up on charges, but I think you just need to be a little less confrontational.”

            “But he started it!” The scientist was happy he hadn’t moved that hand because he would have lost it as she jerked backwards. “Where’d he get that stick anyhow? That thing just latched right on my brain and damn near sucked me dry!”

            “I don’t know. I tried to scan that stick, but it seemed to block the scanner.”

            She paused. “You don’t think it’s... magical, do you?”

            “I’m not sure. It may be also powered by his psi abilities.”

            “Great,” she snorted. “Viagra for the brain. “She killed off a few more cells in her head by draining her fifth round of brew. “Well, if and when he calls off the dogs, you’ll let me know, right?”

            “Sure. No problem.”

            “Thanks, Doc.” She leaned up, standing on tip toe, to give him a thankful kiss on the cheek, then turned and headed back out into the dimly lit streets, leaving behind a blushing Randall.

            Nine poked her head under the swinging door of the pirate’s tavern, quickly casing the place out, looking for anything that might give her trouble. Of course she’d picked such a bar because she didn’t Want any trouble, mostly with the authorities that Rooslan probably had dogging her trail by now. Surely there would be no cops in a pirate’s den. As she slipped inside, a familiar shadow edged its way in behind her. “How does it look, Nine?” Randall asked, also looking the joint over, but for him it was for anyone that was bigger and armed.

“Tame, “she replied, making her way to the bar. “But then again, it’s a brigand’s’s tavern. Keep on your toes.” She wrapped her scavenged violet cloak around her shoulders, more to cover up what looked to be too feminine a dress for her to wear.

For now the bar seemed calm, and mostly inhabited by women. A young girl was almost perched on the counter, casually carving hearts and skulls and crossbones into the mahogany wood. A salesman was trying to hawk bottles of maple syrup to the destructive youth. There was a pale sort of fellow seated high up in the rafters, pale enough to be a vampire, Nine assumed, but didn’t fret the idea. The gentleman at the bar seemed twitchy though, looking like he was sparring for a sword fight. For now, she wouldn’t oblige him. She had more pressing matters on her mind.

The tender at the Red Dragon was a vamp as well and she was more than gracious to her, so she assumed no different from this creature. A very kind fellow offered the key to his room to a woman in need of some shelter. Another woman was tending the bar, first giving her brother a small serving of sake’ before turning to Nine. “What would you like to drink, Ma’am?”

            Nine winced a bit at the title of “ma’am” but kept herself in check. “Beer, please. From the bottom of the barrel.”

            “Gotcha,” she replied with a friendly wink as she drew up the mug. “Two gold, if you have it.”

            She did, also sliding two extra pieces of gold for Randall’s brew as well. She also noticed that her once plump pouch of silver and gold wasn’t so plump anymore. So did the scientist, and he tried to quell her worries with good news. “I think the Skipper won’t have you drawn and quartered anymore.”

            “Really.” The mutant didn’t sound convinced, but at least she wasn’t guzzling her brew down. She actually took the time to taste it, and found it quite palatable. “Just what sort of appeasement do I have to perform this time?”

            “He didn’t say anything about any appeasement.”

            That brought a snort out of the petite girl. “Yeah. Right. There’s a catch. There’s always a catch with that bastard.” She again cased the room, wondering if Randall had been sent out with false hope and a tail with the expectation that he would lead Rooslan to her. Nobody in the room seemed the recon and recover type. A woman wearing thigh high boots leaned back in her chair and devoured a smoked turkey leg. The girl carving into the counter was suddenly startled by the bartendress as the woman slapped the wood right next to the girl, then scolded her for defacing the property.

            Randall also seemed wary, perhaps thinking the same thing. “We’ll just have to see what he has up his sleeve for you.”

            “I don’t wanna see what’s up that sleeve. It’s bad news. Heck.. has he really done Anything to see about getting us home, or at least getting us help?”

            “Not yet.”

            “Yeah… so much for our Fearless Leader.” She took another sip, watching the room slowly fill. Now a samurai, or perhaps Rowen if he was milling about a place like this, made his way to the bar, ordering the traditional drink of sake’. That suddenly sounded like a great idea and gestured to the bartendress after see served the sullen man. “May I have a round of that?”

            “You like sake’?” she asked, looking the girl over.

            “Sure. Warms the blood. Works wonders for pain, and trust me, I have Lots of pain.”

            A curious nod from the woman and Nine turned back to the problems at hand. “What about those mutants? Are they causing Rooslan any headaches?”

            “None that I can tell, but I do know that the Skipper is real interested in that wild psi talent."

            “Yeah. Timothy. He even had the balls to call himself a Rex.” She crossed her arms, giving a slight shudder. “Would you believe he wants to recruit me? Something about replacing their figurehead. Something about that offer just screamed living target.”

            “I managed a quick scan. He has the same energy patterns as you.”

            She frowned, but it didn’t stay long as the kind tendress came around with the sake’. “I do warn you that it’s quite strong.”

            Nine paid for the round, encouraging Randall to try a sip. She had expected him to choke on the high grain alcohol content, but it seemed the scientist could handle his liquor. As she leaned forward to pour herself a tiny cupful, a turkey leg sailed over her head an into the garbage receptacle propped up against the wall. Yep, this was beginning to feel like a tavern she could enjoy, even as she sipped the potent brew, feeling her insides warm. The woman with the thigh high boots now tried to stand, but lost her balance and fell to the ground, skidding across the smooth planks. “Ow.. Jesus,” she hissed.

            “Are you alright, mate?” the girl with the knife at the bar, the one the bartendress referred to as Emily, asked as she braided up her locks.

            Boot- girl clamored back to her feet, rubbing her elbow. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I need a band-aide though.” She looks as if she were about to cry.

            Emily turned to the tendress. “Amae, darling. Do you have the surgeon’s kit back there?”

            “Yeah. Here. Catch,” and she lobbed the leather bound bundle to the pirate girl.

            Randall and Nine turned back to their drinks, seeing the woman was alright. “So.. what Do you think of this Tim fellow,” the scientist asked cautiously. He remembered the discussion between Rooslan and the psi. Was Nine looking for a mate? He’d never seen her even bat an eyelash at any male, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t on her mind.

            If she was looking, it sure wasn’t the Rex that filled the bill. “That wild psi? I think he’s a slimy scumbag. He’d only just met me, yet he launches into this spiel, like he was Waiting for me to show up or something. He gives me the creeps. Even creepier than when the Commander goes traipsing through my brain.”

            “He gives me the creeps too,” Randall confessed, somewhat relieved that she didn’t fall for the wild talent’s slick charms. At least there were no mind- reading mutants lurking around this bar. Just the tentative love-struck couple in the corner, the pirate youth Emily bandaging the banged- up booted woman, and the tendress tending the samurai. Oh, and the red velvet clad creature in the rafters. That one Randall wasn’t sure of him.

            “I gotta get a job,” Nine announced out of the blue as she looked about the quiet place. “We’re almost out of coin from the salvage job. Well I’M almost out of coin. I can bet Captain Krunch has been hoarding his share.” She finished the last of the sake’ and pushed the decanter back towards the bar, indicating another refill. “Maybe I can hire myself out as a swordsman... or swords woman as the case may be.” She turned to the tendress as she refilled her order. “Is there any sort of human resources department around here?”

            “Actually I can give you an application to work for us on the pirate ship, if you want. You can join as a crew member and work your way up the ranks.”

“I still have some coin,” Randall replied, but was watching Emily as she pulled out an

 antique gun, a flintlock and slowly loaded it. All of this was unseen by Nine as she chatted with the barmaid and took not only a copy of an application for herself, but one for the scientist as well.

            She turned, handing him the paperwork. “You may as well fill one out too. Just think.” She fluttered her eyes in mock-romance. “We can run off together and leave that hateful world behind us.” But she couldn’t hold up that charade and broke out in a malicious giggle.

            He sighed. “I can’t. I get seasick.”

            “You.. You get seasick?” A snort coughed up inside her. “Dude, you’ve were on a spaceship for two years! I never saw you sick.”

            “It’s different in space.”

            “Whatever..” She hunkered down, squinting at the application form, erupting into a fit of giggles every now and then. She looked up at Randall. “Chances are once they read this application, they won’t let me on board, especially when I tell them what happened to the last ship.”

            “What happened to the last ship?” This from Amae, the bartendress, as she bussed the table next to them.

            “Uhm.. Well.. It sort of fell.”

            That brought a laugh out of the woman. “Fell? Where?”

            “In the desert west of here.” Nine gestured in the general direction.

            “Well, Our ship won’t fall. It’s on water. It has no where to fall.”

            Nine gave Randall a sidelong glance. “She don’t know me very well, do she?”

            “Obviously,” he snorted.

            Nine sighed, continuing to answer the questions on the application. “I think I’ll be happy just to swab the deck. If nothing else, Cpt. Chaos won’t be able to find me if I’m out at sea.”

            “Yeah,” Randall echoed. “Beats blowing up the ship.”

            “SSSSHHHHH!” Nine hissed, then punched him in the shoulder, causing him to shout in pain. She turned, grinning sheepishly at Amae. “He’s kidding of course.” She once again looked about the place, a thought occurring to her. “There ARE guys on this ship, right?”

            “Of course. We have some thirty members, only ten girls. You do the math.”

            “Alright!” and she signed the application and handed it back to the bartender.

            Randall raised an eyebrow. “I feel sorry for the guys if they try to make a move on you, Nine.”

            She gave that malicious smile. “Oh I wouldn’t hurt them... much.”

            Amae looked the new recruit over. She was small, almost childlike in build, and looked barely old enough to even think about boys in that frame of mind. But then again, you couldn’t judge a book by its cover, especially after she looked the application over. This Nine creature had several years of military training. She couldn’t possibly be a child after going through such rigorous exercises. She took the application and left the bar in Emily’s graces, determined to had deliver this one to the captain.

            Before Emily took her duties, she lifted the gun, aiming upwards. “Test shot! Fire in the hole!” she yelled, then unleashed the weapon.

            This caught Nine totally off guard. She jerked backwards, reaching her hand over her shoulder. The blade moved across her back and into her waiting palm, allowing itself to be drawn forward as the mutant stood up. She then saw Weston catch the bullet and toss it back down to his armed compatriot. “Teeth and Toenails!” she spat as she glared at Emily. “Do you Normally shoot that thing at customers?!”

            “I shot at the ceiling,” the pirate replied, looking from the girl to the blade. The weapon seemed to be humming angrily, reflecting its owner’s temperament. “I Do have to test the powder, Mate.”

            “Well Jesus on a Stick, couldn’t you do that like outside? Or on the firing range?” The petite girl was gesturing wildly with one hand, holding the strange blade low in the other as she looked up towards the ceiling, seeing several pock marks. “It’s a miracle you haven’t sunk your boat yet.”

            Emily just smiled and shrugged her shoulders. “Oopsie,” she grinned, the turned a bit more somber. “Oh relax. I have good control. My father taught me everything he knows.”

            Randall tried to calm the easily irritated mutant. “Calm down, Nine.”

            “Back Off, Randall!” she hissed back at the scientist.

            It was Weston who vaulted from the ceiling, landing in front of the upset girl. “Please.. No one was harmed. There is no reason for an argument, is there?”

            Randall stepped back, expecting Nine to tear into the man. She was already in defensive mode, glaring upwards at the pale man. “There is if she’s a danger to others on the field of play,” she replied, gritting her teeth.

            “Did she harm anyone?” he countered. “She did shout out a warning. Besides, it seems you are in no position to judge someone in their own tavern.”

            Something held the mutant at bay. Her gaze rolled over the man, looking for some sort of weapon. Currently he brandished none. “As a paying customer, I expect a certain level of safety, especially from the staff, yes?” The tension was still in her voice.

            The tall pirate didn’t budge either. “Did she point the weapon at you? If not, don’t feel threatened.”

            Nine took this under consideration for yet another tense moment, then slowly stood up straight, rotating her arm to replace the blade on her back, where it clung without benefit of sheath or strap. “Very well. I stand corrected. I’m sorry.”

            She turned around and walked back to Randall, taking a moment to once again punch him, this time in his other shoulder, causing him to grimace and rub the sore spot. “I told you that you need to be less confrontational,” he snorted.

            “They’re lucky I didn’t blast the joint,” she replied, sipping at the now cold sake’.

      Cold sweat ran down his forehead in long exhausting streams. The shakes had set in about a week ago....that he'd survived this long was a good sign. He'd only gone through a full withdraw once before, but it was hard to gauge that experience against this one. True, those were some of the original alpha type drugs....much less stable, much less refined. But he had also had the advantage of a full medical team along with all of the proper facilities. His current situation was a bit worse....sure the psy-hypes he had been taking were top of the line, but they were designed to optimize ability, not to make de-tox any easier. And the seedy bar that surrounded him made him long for the sterile surroundings of the militant hospitals.

       His hand shook as he reached for the iced vodka. He grit his teeth as his other hand shot out to try to steady his grip. At almost the same moment a jagged pain ripped from his liver, his eyes going wide at the pain. He lost his balance on the high bar stool and fell to the ground. Everything seemed to grow slow....He felt the warm fluid flow from his nose and ears. It didn't burn....it was much more comforting than painful really, but he knew what it meant....he really thought he was going to make it. As his consciousness faded, he wondered if anyone would even remember him....so much for his military burial....

       He remembered his mother's touch then.....she hadn't of course been his real mother. He'd been genetically engineered to be optimized for his line of work. No, the person he remembered was more like a nanny really. She had been assigned to him and a few other select children....they were all.....

       "Are you alright there, how do you feel? You had a pretty nasty fall, but I think your going to be okay....Mister, are you awake?"

        As his eyes came more into focus, the image of his mother faded and a younger face came into view. She probably wasn't more than twenty years old, and rather pretty in a peasant girl sort of way.

        "Mother....?"

        "Mother? No I'm not your mother silly....My name's Missy. You fainted in my uncle's bar. There aren't any hospitals around here. Normally he just throws drunks outside, but you had military markings. He used to be in the military too, said he didn't want to see a soldier down on his luck in a muddy puddle."

       It was almost reflex that his voice grew harsher as he began to push himself up from the bed "I'm not a common soldier, I'm a Commodore....Commodore Nicholi Ro..Ro..." Ro what? Why couldn't he finish the sentence?

       "Well Commodore or not you shouldn't be trying to sit up. You're hurt. Now you lay down and don't move okay? I've got some nice oatmeal here...you need to eat and keep up your strength you know." she frowned and pushed him down gently....her eyes growing more concerned as he began to shake again, though it was not nearly as bad this time.

       "Why....why are you being nice to me?"

       "I told you, my uncle said I should take care of you. Now come on, you've been asleep for three days, you have to eat something."

       "But I didn't pay either of you to do this....there isn't any reason for you to do this."

       "Why are you whinin' so much about it? Sometimes people just do things for other people. Haven't you ever done anything nice for no particular reason?"

       The pale commander didn't respond.....his memory was hazy....but this concept seemed very foreign to him....it was also strange....she wasn't afraid of him....he was definitely sure he was used to people being afraid of him. His thoughts were put on hold for a moment as a series of hoarse coughs wracked his lunges and throat.

       "Oh dear....I don't like the sound of that cough...." the young woman put the earthen ware bowl down on the nightstand near his bed. "I'll go get you a glass of water. Now don't you go anywhere silly." And with a swirl of skirt she was out of the room.

         Rooslan sat up....why was everything so hard to recall. His hand slid through his hair as his eye caught something on the edge of his vision. A shiny metal rod about the size of a small baton. It clicked in his head as very important to him...he reached out and took hold of it, bringing it up to examine it. But something struck him before he completed his observation of the object. His own reflection...more specifically his eyes. They were green again....they hadn't been green for over three years. The ramifications of this struck him immediately. His talents were gone....and the withdraw was almost over. He was going to live....but he might as well be crippled...and without a clear picture of what his circumstances or goals were....a sense of panic rose in the pit of his stomach....his fight or flight instinct seized him.

        When Jenny came back, the windows were open.....

            Megan Ray Dannon was picking through a fruit stand in a small village some miles from Rydin proper. It had been a week since her frantic nightmare, but she was sure that Emily was dead, and even more sure that whatever had killed her sister was now after her. Perhaps that was what caused the change in temperament. She seemed driving, stopping at any and all armories and forges, looking over weapons, armor, charms, and anything else she thought she could use to protect herself. Zelgadis also noticed that she was no longer the shell of a person Tristan had left
behind. She had a mission in her head and an urge to do something about it. Their path was now wandering back towards the big city, perhaps to face her nemesis. Perhaps she was just being paranoid, but he said nothing to discourage her. They would know soon enough.
           She rummaged through the fruit cart, making sure to buy palatable goods. Even though her system thrived on rotting and spoiled food, her rocky companion had a more Sensitive stomach. She even found a couple of caramel apples and added them to her purchases, knowing the golem had a sweet tooth. She also added yet another knife to her basket, this one bearing a blood groove and a longer, thinner edge than her last purchase. This would end up tied onto her belt along with the rest of the weaponry, all of which she practiced with on a daily basis; flinging, chopping, throwing, tossing under and over handed, even cartwheeling with the blades. Much of the forest looked as if a mob of woodpeckers had ransacked the bark. Needless to say, her strength and stamina were returning. Several times she managed to talk Zel into sparring with her.
He was happy to oblige, He was fairly protected from her strikes with his rock hard hide, making him a great training dummy. After which she was always appreciative and affectionate.

            He now looked over her bundle as she emerged from shop and slipped the food into the saddlebags on either side of the rotund pony. “You’ve turned into quite the merchant,” he commented.

            She pulled out one of the caramel apples and tossed it up for him to catch. “Well, you know: Mother of necessity.” She paused a moment, biting her upper lip. “Hey Zel. Do you think I can lean magic?”

            That made the golem mag quirk an eyebrow. He thought he had seen it all, but she was full of surprises lately. “Learn magic?” he asked, just in case his ears had deceived him.

            “Well, yeah,” She did an odd gesture with her shoulders; not quite a shrug, more of a rounded movement. “Look, you know and I know that you can’t always be there to watch my backside. I need to be able to put up some sort of a defense. I can’t trust my luck to hold out all the time. I just want some simple spells. A shield type one, maybe.”

            “Sure I could teach you magic, but I thought your kind had some sort of aura around you that disrupts the flow of magic.”

            “I do, but even that isn’t reliable. It sure didn’t help Emily any.”

            Zelgadis had to agree. The last he had tangled with Megan’s half- sister, she just about boiled his stony hide off his bones. Whatever had killed the super mutant had to be tough. Perhaps too tough for Megan. No wonder she was paranoid, and Desperate if she was looking towards the very thing that caused her pain. “Alright. Sure. I can teach you some things. First things first, I suppose. All magicians from my world specialize in one sort of magic or another; dark, light, or shamanistic. Dark is filled with destructive spells; light will spells for healing and purification. Shamanism deals with spirits of various kinds."

            "I get the feeling I know which category fits me, but wouldn't dark magic be dangerous for me?" She swung up into the overladen saddle of the swayback pony.

            "One does not necessarily have to be evil to use dark magic. It is more an embodiment of negative emotions that are just as natural as the positive ones. You are invoking their power, not taking them into yourself. That's how come good people can use dark magic and the most evil man I knew was a white magician."

            "So I guess you can't teach me the right magic since you're a Shaman and all that."

            He shook his head, seeing that she was once again missing an obvious point. "No real magician knows just one method. Besides all the schools start the same, at least in basics."

            "Okay, basics then." She kicked the pony into gear but continued to listen as he swung his mount into the trail, following her.

            "Contrary to popular belief, magic wielding is as much physical as mental. Will and skill make learning advanced spells more easy, but controlling magic is like controlling your body."

            "Like handling a weapon."

            Ah, she could understand. "In some ways, yes. That is why many magicians are also very fit."

            "I can vouch for that." She looked over her shoulder and gave him a sly smile, causing him to blush and cough.

            He looked down for a moment to gather his composure and thoughts. "Ahum... well... anyhow, almost anyone can learn a few tricks. After all, it's just practice you'll need. The incantations are the easy part."

            As the path widened, she pulled her pony up until she was side by side with the chimera and his beat of burden. "How strong do you have to be to make a curse stick?"

            He knew better than to take that question as just something that came to her out of the blue. She was up to something, but he would have to play along to discover what she was working on. "That's a bit strange to ask, but most curses that I know of that stayed after the caster had departed involved some sort of idol or marker that could keep it going, like a power source. Something has to maintain it."

            She was deep in thought again, staring past the saddle horn. "You know Brimstone is cursed, right?"

            Actually he hadn't known. Surely his metallic amendments were not due to some sort of witchcraft. "Did he slight some paramour?"

            "No... not a lover. An elf. A witch-elf. Her four kids had waylaid him just outside of East and he doled out some gruesome punishment. It wasn't his fault, fo course, but they ended up dying anyhow." She gave a short snort. "funny, but that curse of his has saved my clan's hide many a time."

            The mutant was going somewhere with this. Zelgadis just couldn't see where. "What does this curse do, exactly?"

            She smiled. "That's the point. It doesn't do anything Exactly. He has no control over what it does. All he says is 'Ickity Ackity Oop' and something happens. It's usually quite catastrophic. Turned a three mile chunk of prime forested land into a colossal sand dune. Made the sun turn pink and purple poka-dotted. Weird crap like that. You can almost feel reality sort of shrug if your close enough when he casts it. I was just wondering if I could somehow sort of pry that curse off Brimstone for myself."

            "You mean transfer the curse?" This had to be one of the most outrageous things she'd ever contemplated. At least that's what Zel felt, but he kept that all under wraps. He knew that Megan had been at a loss since Hybrid disappeared. Sort of like missing a best friend or a small child, but even more important a form of defense. He could almost piece her twisted way of thinking and a spell that monumental would more than replace the sentient blade. "That would take a very advanced magic, black or white." He frowned a bit, finding something confusing. "How can you call Brimstone's affliction a curse if he can control when to use it?"

            Megan shook her head, wondering how what seemed obvious to her missed him completely. "Because you want to use it. Ever get into a situation that was so tight you had no way out? Consider the curse the 'Hail Mary' , last- ditch effort where anything is better than what is facing you. Unfortunately the results are even worse. It's like playing Russian roulette with reality." The puzzled look on his granite face told her what he thought of her plan. "You don't think it's a good idea, do you?"

            Zelgadis pondered it further. Yes it was a hare- brained idea, but if she wanted it, he would try for her. "No. It's not a great idea, but maybe we can find a better solution along the way."

            Nodding in agreement, she turned the small horse and pointed him westward, back towards Rydin proper.    

A long overdue face peeked through the slightly ajar doorway opening to the Blue Dragon

Tavern. It had been some time since her absence, and she had caught wind that the tavern had been leveled. Yet here it stood, a bit larger, newer, and roomier with quite the decor. Definitely not the neon trash dump that Brimstone had based his theme on. No, this was a nice place, and the wards were all in place. Even she could feel the vibrations from the wooden planks.

            She slipped inside, brushing her hands on the plain tunic. She had thought about arming herself in the red techno jumpsuit, but wearing the garment brought about bittersweet memories, something she couldn’t afford to clutter her mind right now. Instead, she had opted for something more peasant like. She also still carried the maroon cape, lined twice over now with pieces of blue and green cotton material, giving her a ragged, harlequin look. Most of the fighting gear was also packed on the pony, save for a handful of throwable devices tacked to her belt. She would not need her weapons or armor. Hopefully.

            It would be quite the reunion. There was Jerrad, tending the bar, watching for newcomers. By his side was a sweet thing of a vampire. Megan could catch the sweet scent of dead even from the doorway, but she seemed quite calm and non-threatening as she looked into Jerrad’s. More correctly where his eyes would be if that blasted red hair wasn’t in the way. Her green eyes seemed pale and washed as if she were needing a feed to fill them and her alabaster skin with color. “Welcome to the Blue Dragon,” this wisp of a creature heralded in a soft voice as Megan approached.

            Already two men sat at the bar. The blond swordsman turned to see who the lady was addressing and just about lost his lower jaw. “Meg?! Is it really you?”

            “Yes, it’s me.” She half expected to get tackled by Goury, but what fretted about her brain was a question: Why was he here and not at his usual watering hole?

            That was answered by the second man as he turned in his seat to see who Goury was making the fuss about. Even though he clad himself in soft subtle velvet brown and a thick black cape, Drac’s sword and regal gold embroidery gave away the red dragon king. Of course, Megan realized. Goury had been spending so much time with the Vashtalian reptiles that she half expected the warrior to be sporting scales.

            Goury had looked Megan over closely, fighting back the urge to rush up and hug her, knowing how she might react. When he last saw the mutant, she had fear emanating from every pore in her body. He’d been worried that she’d never recover from Tristan’s attack, but now that doubt was washed away. Even though she still looked a bit haggard, he could see that the fire was back. “You’re looking better than before,” he observed.

            “That’s not saying much, Goury. I know that Emily’s dead, and that I’m next.”

            “Not if I can help it,” Drac snapped, his protective streak showing.

            “It’s okay, you old fart. That’s why I’m here.”

            “And why is that?” Jerrad had walked up behind the trio and clapped his hands on Gory’s and Megan’s shoulders. He was quite surprised that she didn’t wince, or punch, in an over rated reaction. But what she said next hit him harder than any physical offence she could muster.

            “Because, Jerrad. I need your help.”

            Eyebrows quirked. Jaws dropped. Very rarely did Megan take any assistance, much less ask for it. “That’s right, help,” she continued, almost smiling at the commotion she started. Even the green -eyed girl was listening in from the dining room area. “There’s something big, like major conspiratorial big going on around us. Something killed Emily, and I’m convinced that it’s coming after me next, and since my sister was way up there on the power meter yet still got wiped out, you can imagine what something like that can do to me. I need a secure sanctuary.”

            “Waitaminute,” Gory interrupted, frowning at the information even as yet another cloaked customer wandered in and drifted to a corner, merging with the shadows to skulk, with only his red eyes visible. “According to Tim, the flayer that assaulted Emily was killed. She died only because she expanded too much energy on the attack.”

            “And what would possess a flayer to go after Emily? She wasn’t a psi, and even if she were the power level she was toting would have been a great deterrent. No. Somebody set that flayer on Em. In fact I think somebody’s trying to take all of us mutant out of the picture. Brimstone’s falling to pieces and losing bits of his flesh and soul in the process. Tim’s just about worn out his body, but even then whoever is running this game plan saw it best to strike at him by taking out his mate. Somebody jostled Tristan loose in Tim’s mind and look at the chaos that caused. It’s like we’re being surgically taken “Part at the seams. They know our weaknesses too well.”

            Jerrad just rolled his eyes, not that anyone could see them. “Every time you come back Meg, you tend to bring untold destructions.”

            “Nonsense,” the dark clad draconic man snorted, convinced that Megan was dissillusional. “A flayer will go after anything. It probably was just desperate for a meal.”

            “Maybe it was going after the baby,” Gory suggested.

            “Waitaminute,” Megan paused. “What baby?”

            “Emily’s baby. She gave birth shortly before she died. In fact it would have died too if Dusk hadn’t shown up to save the child by possessing it.”

            There was a name that didn’t sit well. “Dusk saved the baby? Oh.. Now I see.” She thumbed her chin as she mulled over this tidbit of information. ‘And where is Dusk holed up now?”

            "Last I knew, at the Red Dragon Inn. Danielle is taking care of her."

            While Gory tried to diffuse a very touch situation, Jerrad grumbled under his breath and returned to the bar to help his wife set up for the evening. Drac heard the disgruntled complaint and also slid away from Megan's side. The red eyed man had moved to the ceiling and was hanging from the rafters in bat- like fashion while the shadow seemed to sulk, casting furtive glances at the werewolf and his mate. All of this the Vashtalian lizard ignored as he leaned against the bar. "What do you need?" Jerrad grumbled, barely keeping civil.

              "An ale," Drac replied, pulling out two silver coins from his pocket to pay for the drink. "By the way, how much does Megan owe you?"

              "A lot. Much of the `repairs' she performed were substandard. Had to rebuild from scratch because the building had become structurally unsound."

              "Yeah, that would be Megan's touch. Tell you what; get me an itemized list and I'll cover her expenses." He took his drink and ambled back to the mutant's side, content that she hadn't overheard him. There was probably a limit to what kind of help she would allow. Best to keep her mind elsewhere. "I thought that Dusk was attached to you, Meg."

              "Not if she found a better vessel."

Gory had been looking back over his shoulder to the door.  "Where is Zel?" he finally asked.

            " Rounding up some stuff for me. Seems I'm going to have to learn a few magic spells after all, especially if I'm going to deal with Dusk when she makes her move."

             "You should talk to Claw, "Drac suggested. "He can teach you magic also."

             "Actually, I was thinking about stealing Brimstone's curse."

            "O-Kay," Jerrad interrupted, already developing that migraine that seemed to come forth only when dealing with Megan and her ilk. "I'll forget the debt if you'll just tell me what the hell is going on!"

            Megan did, shuffling up to the werewolf and pulling him aside, telling him about the tragedies that occurred in the Red Dragon Inn, mainly the fight with Tristan, with Emily, with the flayer, and any other entanglements she could remember. Jerrad took everything she uttered with at least three grains of salt as the girl's memories were spotty; probably more so if some super psi ran rampant through the skull, but when she finished her tale, he likewise saw that somebody somewhere probably was truing to split her family apart.  Nobody could have that much bad luck.

            During this speech, the green eyed vampire had walked across the room and placed a light kiss on Jerrad's cheek.  Megan was never quick on subtleties, but the action made her raise an eyebrow. "Seems like I've been gone too long... married?"

"Yes I am," the wolf, man coughed. "I am surprised you didn't get my wedding invitation,

but I can see you've been a bit occupied."

            "True. I guess you'll need to run all this by the little woman if I were to use this place as a base of operations or a secured site."

"Considering that I will be leaving again shortly, yes."

“Going? Where?"

            Before the lupine man could answer, the doors to the bar opened, admitting a tall barrel of a man clad in pure white   Even his skin had a pearly ethereal glow. Jerrad froze, catching the scent before he saw the man, and a low growl filled his throat. "Watch the bar a second, Meg," he grumbled as he whipped off his apron and charged across the room.

Megan had recognized the white clad person.  "Tron!" she shouted out, pleased to see the

 dwarfen frost giant, but paused as she saw murder in Jerrad's movements She gave up the post at the bar and flew after him, determined to stem the flow of blood that was sure to start.

            Drac tried to stop her. "Hold on," he barked, managing a tight grip on her shoulder as she stormed by him. "It's between those two."

Even now the wolfman had slammed his shoulder into the giant's chest, sending him hurdling

 into the door with a shudder. "What did I say I would do if I ever saw you again!" Jerrad snarled.

            Tron managed to slip out from the pin and vault over a set of table to escape the bar owner's rath, Jerrad hot on his heels. "Look," Tron said, ducking a punch. "I just want to settle old problems. He dodged another swing, but took the follow-through, hoping that Jerrad would tire quickly.

            But the wolfman was just warming up, following through with a flurry of punches. The red eyed darkly clad fellow dropped from the rafters and snagged Jerrad’s foot before he could plant it into Tron’s face. “Let it go! Grudges are not something we have to hold on to.”

            “It IS settled!” the werewolf snorted, jerking his leg free of the man’s grip. “He leaves now or he dies. It is that simple.”

            Megan was still squirming in Drac’s grip as well. “Settle down, Little One,” the reptile in man’s guise snorted. “If you’ve been watching, you would notice that Tron isn’t even fighting back.”

            “I know, and Jerrad’ll clean his clock if he gets a hand on him!” She folder her arms upward, slipping down and leaving her cloak behind in Drac’s hands. She turned and darted between his legs then ran to the squabbling duo. No one was able to abate Jerrad’s wrath, not even his wife whom had tried to rest a calm hand on the lupine’s shoulder. Megan did what she thought was best and wedged herself between Jerrad and Tron.

            "I am sorry for what I did!" the glowing half-sized giant cried out, even as Megan pushed them apart. For such a scrawny girl, she possessed wiry strength, probably due to the twisted construction of her bones and muscles as they were reinforced like rope. Despite her physical capabilities, it was still an effort to keep them “Part.

            "That has always been your excuse, has it not?" Jerrad was now howling, causing Megan's ears to ring. "It is never your fault. You're always under some other control. I'm not buying it this time! If you are that simple of mind then you will always be a danger and I don't want you near if anything else goes wrong. Leave and do not come back!"

            His wife still had one hand on his shoulder, the dark shadowy man retraining the other. It was this ebony-robed fellow that whispered in Jerrad's ear. "M'friend, is his sin that great that you must ban him?"

            The furry bartender still struggled to get past the mutant, his eyes locked on Tron.  "You might want to move, Megan.  I do not want you to get hurt if he doesn't leave."

            "I don't want Either of you hurt!" she hissed through gritted teeth. She now had her back against Jerrad's chest and was using both her hands against Tron's ribcage. She even contemplated bring her feet up to gain more leverage, but feared a slip would send them all crashing.

            "Megan! " Drac hollered "Let them finish what they started!" He would have pulled her out of that tangled mess of people, but feared he would end up incapacitated in the dog pile.

            The shade released Jerrad's shoulder and reappeared in front of Tron. "If you are truly sorry, then leave so that no war may be caused." The red- eyed specter had some concern as the girl's arms were beginning to shake. If she lost her strength, the fight would resume and somebody would get hurt..

             Finally Tron left, seeing that his pleas for forgiveness were falling on deaf ears. Megan managed to restrain the lupine tender long enough for the white-clad half breed to slip out the front door, joined by the red-eyed observer.

            Jerrad gave Megan a final shove, making sure to grab her as she lost her balance by snagging a wrist, lifting her up and setting her back down on her feet. However, his last show of aggression set her off.

            "Will you cut that out!?" she spat as she shoved him back, barely causing him to step off-center. "Just what the hell was all that about?"

            "Simple, really," he was back behind the bar, gathering his composure, even as Megan was losing hers. "He tried to play with something he should not have and I told him to leave."

            "Hey! Meg!" This from Gory as he once again tried to lead Megan away from a path of sure destruction She was already quite animated, gesturing wildly, her attitude clashing with Jerrad quiet but brewing anger. "C'mere! I want you to meet someone."

            She sighed. Maybe a change of venue was needed. Jerrad was much calmer now that Tron had left the building. In fact he was now trying to make up with his paramour and making small strides of progress. Megan obliged the blond swordsman and moved to join the group at the same time a green clad fighter reached the table. "Hey Aerich!"  Gory greeted the man.

            Megan knew he scent all too well. "Great. Another lizard." grumbled as she took her seat, sinking into that post- fight doldrums as the fight in her abated. She sat back, listening for the most part to catch up on things. Aerich, the Vashtalian offspring of Claw, and Gory bantered and gossiped as the girl Lina interceded every now and them as they mused upon their friend Merrick and his new sort-of girlfriend. Frankly, Megan didn't care. A dryness had crept into her mouth and her gaze slowly turned to the bar. She had a few coins. Maybe she should help herself since Jerrad was busy. None of her specialty drinks were available so she took up two bottles of whiskey, leaving the proper change on the counter and worked her way around the room, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

            Her intent had been to horde one of the bottles for later consumption, but as she slipped the whiskey into one of the saddlebags on her pony, she caught sight of that familiar white flickering down the pathway. She skirted around an oversized roan red warhorse tethered near her mount and made her way down the street.

    The pint sized giant was waiting alongside the road, deep in conversation with the red-eyed, black clad shady person; the latter a bit more substantial out in the open. "I'd rather not cause any more trouble than I already have, either with Jerrad or Misty."

            "You're not thinking of picking a fight with him when he closes shop, are you?" Megan barged in, giving the ebony robed fellow a cursory once- over before setting her sights on the celestially blessed hybrid.

            "No! Of course not!"

            "Fine, then maybe you can tell me what that flea- bitten mongrel in there won’t. What the hell is going on?"

            Tron stood up slowly. He would have figured Megan to grill him on his new look and his otherworldly glow. Maybe she had just forgotten what he used to look like. "Well, as you can tell, he's pissed at me. I did something, and I regret it. When I became a god by drinking from the Golden Chalice, it had a total reversed effect. It turned me to pure evil."

            "Yeah, yeah. I caught that much in the bar. What evil did you do? Pee on the lawn? What?"

            He didn't chuckle at her deadpan humor, though his dark compadre raised an eyebrow. "I tried to impregnate Misty with Jerrad's essence. It didn't work, and the magic I used caused problems."

            "You did What?"

            The giant dripped his head in shame. "They didn't want a child at the time. I was being evil, but I'm so sorry now for all the problems I caused."

            "Lemme get this straight. You used magic, which Jerrad hates even more than I do; to get his wife pregnant? Oh boy! No wonder he's ballistic! If I had known you all were going to be at each other's throats, I would have gone somewhere else to recruit my help." She rolled her eyes up to the sky, as if accusing some higher power of really pissing on her day. "Tron, I swear." She shook her head then rested a hand on one of his broad forearms. "I really have no idea how you're gonna fix this one. That's Waaaaaaaay out of my league. As it is, I get the feeling I'm only vaguely welcome. If I didn't need the help.. Again she shook her head as she gave a big sigh of resolution. "I'll Try to fix things between you two. No promises, but I'll try. It will take Lots of time and it may never get fully fixed. Now I better get back there. They've probably recruited Gory to mop floors by now." She took her leave of the beleaguered frost giant. She had originally planned to find the firepower she needed withing the Tavern's walls, but Miss Ani and her kindred hadn't shown. What few that did appear, like Tron and Dornoon, had their own worries. Maybe she needed to rethink her options.

Sheknewinnocence, sedaina montfort, lana macleod, Satanic Rituals66, spectre strings, insane manifest, the liquid joker, littlryan24

            It took Nine a few days to return to the Pirate's Tavern. Most of that time was spent laying several false trails. She wasn't sure, but she had the overwhelming feeling of being followed, even though she saw no evidence of any tail.
           Again the innars of the bar were populated mostly with women. She knew Lana and the bartender Amae, but the woman shaprening a knife on a whetstone was unknown to her. She made her way around the women folk and took up a post at the end of the bar. "What's your poison?" Amae asked.
           Poison? Oh its been a while. Got anything lethal?"

             "Absythine," she replied, not knowing the girl's tastes.
           "A mind- altering hallucinogenic? Sure. Maybe you can half it with pineapple juice. It'll bring out the quanine in the fruit.
           Amea quirked a brow, finding her customer's knowledge of poisons more extensive than what she thought the short girl would have know, but set about organizing the implements of distructions, adding the sugar cube drenched in laudanum then lit and quickly dropped into the liquor before pushing the whole ensemble towards Nine. "Four gold."
           It took almost all her coin to match the price, but it was money will spent as the drink almost instantly numbed down the backwash of paranoia, making it much more tolerable to be in the room.  Which was good because the woman with the knife now drew a cat-O'nine tail and was working the leather; an unsettling fimage for the mutant to see.  It also looked unsettling to the girl seated further down the bar.  The bearer of the whip smiled at the blond.  "Ye want to borrow my cat tail, Lana?  Ye might find it useful in yer spar with Sebastian."

            Lana shook her head.  "I never learned to use one.  I don't even want to spar, but he keeps calling me a coward."

            Nine leaned in to catch Amae's ear.  "They spar like this a lot?"

            "Yep.  Too often."

            "They don't fight to the death, do they?"

            "No, just sparring, though sometimes Sebastian gets people to spar without healing and

they end up keeping the scars.

            Hybrid warned her.  The blade began to hum against her spine, making her look up as a

silver haired man clad black on black strode across the room and took the seat two places down from her.  He bore both crossbow and sword and his slicked- back silvered locks seemed to set Lana on edge too.  Nine pinned the blade by pushing her back up against the padded bar, making Hybrid stay still.  She wasn't ready to pick a fight. Besides, this person could very well be a crewmember.  She caught the sickly sweet smell of death and knew then that the gentleman was a vampire.  Again, this didn't upset her.  Renea at the Red Dragon Inn was a vamp, but she was quite agreeable to be around.  In fact no one else save for the Lana girl was upset by his presence, so she just watched.  The man pulled a vial of blood and added it to the ale he purchased from Amae, giving a content smile, showing his sharp eyeteeth.  The girl with the whip, Sedaina, couldn't help but comment.  "Can't get fresh blood?" she smiled, showing her own vampiric set of fangs.

    He gave Lana a malicious grin as he answered the quip.  "I could," he leered, making Lana bleach white.

            Again Nine found herself leaning back to ask Amae, "Got a lot of vamps on the roster?"

            "No. only four or five."

            "Nobody supplies them on ship, do they?  No thralls?  Drones?

Vampiric slaves?"  She wasn't afraid.  She just wanted to know the lay of the land.

            "No.  We keep a small stock of blood on board for emergencies, but they mostly take care

of their own needs.  There aren't that many, and there's only one zombie type person.  The rest of us are mortals like Lana and me."

    "Well don't forget that you've now added a mutant to the roster. We come in pretty handy sometimes."

            "Of course," Amae smiled.

             Nine had put the reply out as a test of the waters.  She wasn't sure how the crew would

take to her, but she saw only slight confusion on their faces, which only meant they had no idea what she was.  Fair enough. They didn't really need to know, yet.  "Can I have something a bit substancial?  Beer?  Bottom dregs if you can?"

            "Sure, and since you're crew, it's on the house."

            As she was being served, the vampire had slowly shifted from his seat, trying to move

 closer to Lana.  The girl was clearly frightened of this particular bloodsucker.  Nine leaned forward, freeing the blade from constraint, and stood up, nonchalantly moving in on the duo, positioning herself so that he would have to move around her to get to his intended victim.

            Amae was going to interveine herself, though her kimono would have made any combat

 a bit restrictive, but saw that their new recruit was already on the move.  What she didn't like was the intenseness both vampire and girl had, as if they were predators stalking each other. "Boy, it seems that everyone is on edge tonight.  Do try to relax."

            "Oh I'm relaxed.  I'm afraid thought that the norm here," she nodded to Lana to make sure

 everyone knew who she was reffering to," is a bit spooked by you, Sir."  She barely reached the vamp's chin but she still held a commanding presence.  "I would ask you to keep your distance

from her."

            "He doesn't look dangerous to me," Amae insisted, her eyes flicking between undead and

 mutant.

            The vampire took a long sip of his second drink, this particular ale not spike with blood. 

"Nasty," he commented.

            "I can be," Nine replied, making sure he knew she took his words as a slight towards her.

            "Okay.. let's all try to get along," Amae interjected, not wanting a brawl to break out.

            "I'm doing just fine."  Nine looked back, seeing the appreciation in Lana's eyes, thankful to

 have a champion, of sorts.  "I'm just making sure the girl feels safe and that our fanged friend here understands."

            Amae pulled up a sealed pint from under the bar, Obviously part of the emergency blood

 stores.  "Would you like some?" she asked, hoping to cut some of the tension in the room.

            "Is it fresh?" he asked, his eyes still locked on Lana.

            "Of course.  I'm told by our crew that it's very good."

            He finally turned, looking at the wooden cup.  "No," he said.  "I like it fresh out of the

 neck."

            Amae gave a short nervous laugh.  "We, you ain't getting it from Lana so just lower your

 standards or deal with the dissappointment."

            Nine had sat down next to Lana, making sure she was positioned to pre-empt any first

strike the vampire might attempt.  "You okay?"

            "Aye," she blushed with embarrassment.  "I'm fine.  Thank you for your protection.  I

sometimes feel vulnerable here, having no powers, or immortality."

            "Tell me about it," Nine agreed.  "I can't do any magic.  I feel like I got left behind in grade

 school.  I'm lucky I can wield a blade and through a punch or I'd probably be dead by now."  She kept one eye on the vamp.  So did Hybrid, even though the sword had no eyes to speak of.

            The black clad antagonist now sighed.  "I did not think it would come to this but.."  He

 reached under his cape, ausing everyone in the room to freeze, waiting for him to draw a weapon, but all he did was draw out a plastic bag with a bloody steak sealed inside.  He poked a hole in one end and squeezed the red pulp into the cup of ale. 

            Nine's eyes widened at the meat, not in fear but in abject hunger as she realized she had

 not eaten a full meal in days.  "If you don't want that, I'll take it," she suggested, seeing the frown on the bloodsucker's face.  He looked to the bag, then to the small girl, then tossed it to her.  She ripped the bag open and bit deeply into the raw flesh, tearing off a sizeable mouthful and chewing it slowly, giving slight moans of bliss.

            “Nine?”

            This from Amae as she, along with the rest of the women in the bar, stared as the mutant drooled over the dead flesh. Nine paused in mid-bite, then realized what they must be thinking. “Oh. Sorry!” She grabbed some napkins and rolled the steak up in them for later consumption. “Sorry. Its just been a while since I’ve had any real food.”

            “No, no,” Lana insisted. “Please. I know your kind has to feed.”

            “My kind?” Nine shook her head. “Oh no, I’m not a ghoul, or a vamp. I’m just.. well.. Odd, I guess.. But I don’t eat people. Honest!” and she held up her hand as if to swear on that fact.

            “You’re not a vampire?” Lana asked, totally confused by this point.

            “No, I’m warm blooded. Here. Feel.” She now held out a wrist for the girl to take her pulse. “Or warmer blooded, I should say. I’m pretty much a mutt. No, maybe not a mutt. You might think I’m some sort of werewolf or changeling, and I’m not.”

            “I see,” the blond girl replied, though it was clear she didn’t.

            Suddenly the vamp slouched over, sleep overtaking him, his head almost bouncing when it hit the counter. “I thought they needed to sleep in a coffin?” Nine commented, finding the lack of snoring, or breathing, a bit uncomfortable.

            “Not all vamps do,” Amae pointed out.

            “I see that.” Now that she didn’t need to be on point, she was free to talk to the poor frightened girl. “By the way, I’m Nine. A-9 by grade. Don’t think we’ve met before.” She held her hand out in friendly greeting.

            Now the males of the troop seemed to advance through the bar doors in force. First was Amae’s brother Jaken. Again black was the theme, even to his hair tied behind his back. Only his green- jade eyes broke with tradition as he made his way to his sister’s presence. Another followed this dark swordsman, pausing only momentarily to speak to his relation as the man scooted from the back rooms, past the bar, and towards the exit. “You okay, Zigg?” he asked the dower kinsman.

            “I ain’t in the mood ta talk, Zagg,” the other grumped back before exiting the bar.

            Nine’s head twitch. Did she hear that right? Zigg? Zagg? It didn’t matter because the vampires head suddenly snapped up from the counter as if jolted with electricity. “I need blood announced.

            Amae was already at his elbow, the mug of liquid in her hands. He took the offering, draining the contents greedily. Lana seemed relieved that both the night creature had taken his nourishment from elsewhere and that more of her shipmates were at the ready should he change his mind. This also allowed Nine to sit back and listen in on the conversations, a laden with factual bits and pieces. The Zag half of the duo had been injured while on a raid to take a merchant ship and just had the brace removed. The girl Lana was an ensign on the pirate ship Dark Dream and helped price most of the tavern’s wares. Jaken, Amae’s brother, had a taste for saki’.

            In fact most of the bar had settled down on idle chit chat until Sebastian entered. Nine could feel Lana tense up once again as the man strode across the way, the black shaggy hair framing his head like a dark halo. He took off the doublet styled black velvet captain’s coat and the billowy white French long sleeve shirt to show off the well muscled and tanned hide, riddled with scars. He folded the clothes neatly and placed them at the end of the bar before turning and facing Lana. “Come now.”

            Lana inhaled then held her chin up. “I don’t like being ordered around, Sebastian.”

            “It wasn’t an order.”

            Nine would have stepped in but Amae gave her a toss of the head, a gesture she took as a “sit back and watch” gesture. Despite her inexperience and size disadvantage, Lana held her own, and damn near took the match. The fighting was gruesome, underhanded, dirty; fairly much the way Nine handled herself whenever pinned in the corner. There had been a few times when a gang of mutant haters had her cornered in the bulkheads where a kinetic shot would have done lots of damage. She took home a few scars, but those that looked down on her didn’t after tangling with her. Still it wasn’t the stabbing, punching, skewering, biting, and other damaging verbs she was concerned about. It was this magical healing session that would occur afterwards.

            Lana had lost. As it was, she was laying on the floor, covered in cuts and bruises, barely breathing, having taken several knife thrusts. As soon as Sebastian stepped back, Nine leapt forward, checking the girl over. The blond waif even had a few broken bones, but would mend if given immediate medical attention. Nine was all ready to administer when Sebastian reached forward to help the beaten girl to her feet. Nine growled. “Haven’t you done enough?” she spat at the man.

            He grumbled as well, though nothing intelligible, and knelt down, scooping the wounded girl into his arms and carrying her away from the center of the room and to one of the tables. “She’ll be fine. And in case you didn’t notice, she did some damage to me as well.” Indeed the man limped as he had taken a groin shot and several slashes across the face and chest. “Damn, I always have to take all the blame for everything.”

            Nine dogged him, but backed away once she felt the magic working its way through them. She couldn’t tell where it was coming from, or who, if anyone, was casting it. Once again her nerves were rubbed raw and she retreated to the bar to get another round of alcohol to numb herself down.

            Yep, she would have to rethink all this sparring stuff...