SDNWorld Redux: Prologue thread.

[The Duchess of Zeon]

Please post your introductory prologues here for the SDNWorld Redux! I'm kicking things off with my introduction as the Moderator.


"When they turn the pages of history..."

I froze, and felt the familiar wash of light. It was painful, as light had been for quite some time, and the wave of pain spurred a hacking cough from the irritation of mucus oozing down my throat. I was alive, such as that was; but only barely, and not by any human definition of the word.

"Q. Couldn't you be a bit more discrete?"

"But why, my dear Marina, would I want to do that? Your flinch is cute, and there's a certain quality in the bile-bloated remnants of your body which remains charming from that angle."

"Well, I suppose you can't really make anything worse." A hacking cough brought the mucus up that time--which was alright. It was intended for reproduction, after all. "The past six hundred years have had plenty of time in which to amuse myself and compensate for the general misery of my state. Even with your noxious interruptions."

"Do you really think you can fool me? You voluntarily hunted down the truth about vampire myths in the 21st century, with only the slightest of prodding from my direction. And you got exactly what you deserved for that inane human tendency to push the boundaries of exploration beyond all sense." Q laughed, and as usual it was unpleasant. "Please, Marina, I have no sympathy for you. Just the delight that you will be here, watching the flailing errors of the pathetic species to which you used to belong, right until the bitter end. And through the entire thing--deluding yourself into believing it's worthwhile, no matter how much worse it gets! I'd still call you human, but beyond your being a somewhat glorified colony of Protists these days, your ability to display stupid stubbornness without reason or purpose has far exceeded that of Homo sapiens."

"Fine, fine, I'm a stubborn lunatic who clings to life for no real purpose except to eat another raw liver," I ground out, contemptuous and frustrated alike as I forced myself back up and started a bit toward Q. "Just tell me what you want out of my lunacy, certainly? This 'lunatic' would like to go back to her efforts at restoring human civilization one city at a time, now that the water has stopped rising."

"I'm afraid you'll have to take a break from that for a while," Q answered, and with a melodramatic flick of his wrist and a flash of light that left me whimpering in pain, blood near the surface shattered by the merest whisper of ultraviolet on the exposed surface of my face, my old friend Stas appeared on the floor in front of me.

"He decided to stand up to me and quit the game. I didn't bother to tell him that six hundred years had passed in the real world."

"You fucking bastard!" Stas, for his part, was quite awake, though in some excruciating pain. Then, a wet and distinctly tasty object hit me in the face; I bit into with my fangs in the sheer desperation of someone who had been malnourished for the past several months.

It was half gone before Q's laughs and Stas' excruciating pain--and distinctly horrified look in my direction--brought the whole situation together. "Oh fuck you, Q. I had always thought you'd taken the crew from SD.net, but this is goddamned motherfucking ridiculous. You stole one of Stas' kidneys and just fed it to me!"

"He defied me; he must be punished. And you're an amusingly efficient recycling machine for anything with haemoglobin in it. Anyway, you're probably more upset about getting another jacket stained with blood than you are about eating a friend's kidney."

"The twenty-seventh century isn't a good time to have one kidney."

"He can manage."

"I take it--fuck--this is real?" Stas composed himself, ashen, though, in fright at what it meant--his extended family long dead.

"Yeah," I answered. "The world is pretty much fucked due to Global Warming, though slowly recovering now. And I'm a weird parasitical based lifeform who has the full memories and personalities of the Marina you once knew--I think Q lured me into this because I all used to know you, and I'm the only person alive in the present who does."

"A logical deduction," Q flashed, I winced, and he reappeared dressed like Sherlock Holmes. Charmingly tacky. "Now, the first thing I want you to do is explain Stas' fate to everyone else in my game. You'll learn what it is soon enough--talk to them about it, they'll tell you from their presidential palaces. Simply put, everyone in the game is real, from the most irrelevant minor street bum up to their wives and lovers. They are free, willful sentients. And because of that I will no more erase them from the timeline than I would anyone else I might find amusing; their universe is as real as your own.

"And you are going to make sure that things stay that way. To a certain degree, the others, like Stas, that I've taken and given the opportunity to play the game to, are capable of modifying reality through their desires, since their nations were created in the image of their minds. I need someone to prevent that; and so, I am giving you a pittance of my own powers--they won't work on yourself, I enjoy laughing at the mucus-drooling wreck of an existence you try to preserve!--and the ability to manipulate time on a small level. This will keep the game in balance, whereas the first run... Proved misfortunate for those sapient beings placed in the guardianship of this collection of lunatics you once called friends."

"Well, I don't have much choice, then," I snarled back softly. "I'll be your moderator, sure. As long as I can't be hurt. Shep motherfucking hated vampires."

"Done."

"And Stas--no fucking with him while I'm gone. I need him to take my place with the reconstruction efforts, considering that contrary to your snarky little opinion, Q, I am actually trying to help people regain their technology and escape this worthless little rock, not just sulking around in misery at the fact that I've spent the last six centuries as a bile-fed corpse kept alive by some eukaryote colonies. Of which, I made add, it really Isn't that bad."

Q just laughed again. "Fine. Stas can remain here--you and your pathetic delusions of value. Get to work on your new job, Vampire. There will be consequences for your friends if you slack off; deadly consequences. This time, they're no more immune than anyone else in the countries I've let them play with. Make sure to remind them of that, too."

"Consider it done...." I finished the sentence out of spite as Q flashed away, and then sighed heavily. "Sorry, Stas. About, well, everything. But I'll fill you in before this blasted lunatic draws me in, and introduce you to the working co-operatives of the city?"

"Of course." He looked stoically at his own kidney, half-eaten and still in my hands. "Have you killed anyone for food lately?"

The question was as blunt as I could have hoped for. "No, that's why I tore into the thing like I did. Not much cattle still left, so it's hard to get red blood and... ...Frankly, as long as it's half-eaten and useless otherwise, can I finish it?"

"It would be impractical and inefficient otherwise. Of course." The answer, stoic and crisp, relieved me.

I finished eating the kidney, and then stepped over to gingerly help Stas into the next room in the faded collapsing palace, before returning to change to another blouse. The sight of the razor, anorexic-thin body, of the hyper-pallid skin with the colour of bile underlaid through it from the blood that had replaced my body fluids, and served as my stored food, the pot-marked and pitted contours of the flesh the protista improperly healed, all was bitterly revealed until another shirt could be located and I forced myself to return to Stas.

"Let's go," I offered simply. Six hundred years had tended to make me less patient, not more. "You're smart and educated, but you don't have my experience at fighting ignorance and boostrapping that I've developed in the past few centuries. It'll take time we don't have to catch up, but I can at least get you as ready as I can before Q calls me away to moderate his damned death-game."

On the other hand, I did have to admit that seeing some old friends would be well worthwhile. The open question was whether or not they'd agree about me, considering what I'd become; but at least I lived, and of the rest of the 20th century, that could not be said. We were all very much alone now, save for the hand of the mad Q, and his latest game had only just begun.

[MKSheppard]

Somewhere on the Old Dominion/Shepistani Boarder; in the Mountainous Regions

The mountain village had stood for several centuries; irrespective of the various nation-states which had come and swept over the Blue Ridge Mountains, each trying to lay claim over that lawless region.

Even now, mountain tribesmen continued their fight for an independent land against both the Old Dominion and Shepistan.

But this village was about to feel the consequences of supporting the insurgency.

High up, in the cold thin air at 43,000 feet; the twelve-ship section of the 100th Bomb Group turned onto their IP; and the bomb bays on their Stratojets snapped open.

From each silver plane, a lone 12,000 pound bomb fell; guided in it's fall by the laser designator in the lead ship's nose.

The village disappeared in a fountain of explosions as nearly sixty tons of steel and high explosive slammed into the village, raking it in a firestorm of fragments and blast.

As the dust slowly raised, from the bombardment, several F-100G Super Sabres of the nearby 54th Fighter Bomber Group swept over the village at full afterburner, taking in the devastation. Their mission was to make sure that nobody managed to man the triple A or MANPADs sites that were undoubtly in the village as the Mi-26 HALOs full of Shepistani Light infantry approached for the post-strike cleanup.

[PeZook]

"All right. Let's give it another go."

Q smiled and snapped his fingers.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I woke up in a comfortable bed. I thought I was back - at home, in Gdansk, sleeping peacefully. I thought that Q abandoned his insane power-play and felt unimaginable relief as I did so.

I felt her head resting on my chest, breathing serenely. Last time I saw her, she was laid in her coffin, the bloated thyroid giving her face a grotesque look. I felt tears run down my cheeks and started weeping.

Home. Finally, I'm home, and she's with me.

I fell asleep, happy but tired, playing with my wife's hair as I drifted off.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Good morning, your highness!"

The maid opened the curtains, and let bright light into the lavish royal bedroom. I panicked for a second, fearing I've lost my wife again, and that me waking up last night was just a dream. But the messed-up covers and the sound of running water from the bathroom relieved me - it was not a dream, though I wasn't home.

"Good morning...uh, Adelaide. Could you excuse me for a moment?"

I didn't know how I knew her name. I was almost certain I have never seen this woman before in my life.

"Certainly, your highness.", she bowed and walked out of the room. I got up, wearing nothing but my shorts. I noticed, cynically, that all the weight I put on during the last round - stayed on.

I sighed and walked up to the window. I looked upon the waking city - Orena, isn't it? - and closed my eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun on my face. I felt as if in the last forty years spent ruling over the ruins of Astoria, I never saw the sun.

The something changed. The water stopped flowing, and the bird outside the window froze in midair.

"Q?", I asked, turning around, and saw her

"Jesus christ!", I screamed upon seeing the creature that stood where Q was supposed to be. She was pale, but something under her skin looked differently, almost like...bile. Anorexic, she looked as if gravity itself could break her in half. And yet, I recognized her. Forty years of hardship, and I still remembered the pictures.

"Marina?", I finally asked

"That's right. I'm surprised you could recognize me."

"I'm just as surprised about that, believe me. What the hell are you doing here?", I asked, glancing at the frozen bird

"I got drafted by Q, and I need to explain the rules to every single one of the...participants. Also, there's something you should know about Earth."

I sit down, heavily, anticipating the worst.

"Go ahead."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That was a whooper. Marina was gone, and time was flowing again, but I was still sitting there, digesting all the information. What I feared the most was...how would I tell my wife? Her entire family was gone. Or was it? Q could travel through time...was he just trying to push us against the wall, see how we'd act when under the belief that everything we knew was gone?

I didn't like it...but in here, it was Q who wrote the rules. Marina reminded me of that by slapping me with a wet cod...it still hurt.

My wife came out of the bathroom. I sat her down and began to explain the situation.

She didn't take it very well.

[Setzer]

Sovereign Setzer massaged his temples, his head still swimming from what could only be called an infodump. The last thing he remembered was slowly dying from fallout poisoning in the ruins of his capital. Then he was here, in a lavish office much like the one in the Vedra Republic.

Memories of his new nation were in his head. He'd been here years, yet he wasn't here yesterday. Even though sitting back and waiting for the situation to develop got him killed last time, it seemed to be his only option now.

[Fingolfin_Noldor]

The Emperor Heraclius IV starred outside the screen. "It's times like this when I wonder about who really created all this, or are you going to claim to be God while you are at it?"

Q looked up, said, "Well, your Holy Majesty, I wouldn't say Orthodox Catholicism was wholely wrong, or wholely right. But, you are free to choose what to believe."

"Surely the universe is not run by scoundrels like you? Where is your master?"

"My master? Well, let's just say he gave us a free rein," Q smiled.

The Emperor shuddered. "It's times like this where I wished there was a special ward for you to deal with creatues like you."

Q shrugged and smiled, "I'm as holy as it gets."

"Bloody hell. Whatever. I will do what God demands of me."

"Fair enough."

The Emperor starred out into the Bosphorous into the Black Sea. The sea gulls flew past the Imperial Palace. To the left was the venerated Hagia Sophia and the Hippodrome. Constantinople, glorious city of the Old Continent, jewel of the Old Continent. Perhaps, this time round, things would be different. The Empire was facing foes to the east and west. The Caliphates prove tricky, and as a result, a permanent garrison at Jerusalem had to be maintained. The Egyptian Caliphate could prove troublesome.

[Lonestar]

"Let's spin the wheel, one more time…"

Lonestar's eyes snapped open(were the closed?) and he found himself lying in a plush bedroom that vaguely resembled a museum. With a start, he noticed an attractive blonde was lying asleep next to him, then the memories came flooding in, as if they were being downloaded from somewhere.

Ah, the Lady Sterling…that's right, she got pissed because the cat was headbutting her during The Act.

Lonestar became aware of a lifetime of memories that he knew were false. History learned in school. Wars fought between the Old Dominion and Shepistan. Friends and lovers who simply didn't exist in the "real" world.

Lonestar eased out of bed, and started to head for a window, stopped, and put on a robe that was lying on a chair.

That would be a great start, some Goddamn Paparazzi taking pictures of me nekkid.

He glanced out at the Gardens, the bedroom faced to the rear of the palace grounds, then he headed next door into his office. Breakfast and the morning report was lying on his desk.

Shepistani attack on a mountain village in the Blue Ridge…artillery exchange in the Alleghenies, The Dominion War Staff wants to double the number of Leo 2A6s in inventory, as well as increase the F-22 inventory to 55…the SPR should be increased from 300million barrels to 425million…border patrol nabbed 70 illegals crossing the former East Shepistan border…

Lonestar put the brief(really a printed PowerPoint slideshow), down.

A centuries long feud with our larger and more violent neighbor, attractive bored noblewomen, illegals coming to "STEAL OUR JOBS!"…Fuckin' A.


It's good to be King.

[Siege]

Well, that certainly wasn’t how I was thinking of starting the day. Still dizzy from Q’s displacement and the sudden rush of information I slowly gather my wits, draw a deep, unsteady breath, and step toward the window.

Despite myself, a near-inaudible murmur escapes from my lips. “Holy shit!”

Instinctively I somehow know I am standing on the penthouse level on the 77th floor of the Presidential Palace, a good 300 meters above the ground. And damn if the sight isn’t spectacular. A sea of lights stretches out from under my feet, streets and skyscrapers illuminated by ten thousand different colours of light. It is night, but in the streets below people swarm everywhere. Cars fill the streets. Trains slide along the threaded silver lines of the Central District monorail network. Skyscrapers glitter like towers of jewels and mighty searchlights sweep the sky, illuminating the myriad towering statues and monuments that decorate the city. Huge electronic billboards flicker, advertising the wares of a thousand foreign and domestic companies.

It is the strangest sensation: this is the first time I lay eyes on this scene, and yet it is already intimately familiar. I know nothing of this city, this… San Dorado, and yet I know more about it and its secrets than anybody else. I’ve had never held any public office. I’ve been president for years.

President. The realization hits me like a sledgehammer. I’m the president. I’m the god-damned president of all of this. Over twenty million people in one of the planet’s biggest metropolises. A city-state perpetually teetering on the brink of anarchy, driven on by megacorporations wielding influence unequalled in the world I used to know. And all of it is run by me. I’m the most powerful man in this small nook of the world.

The near-tangible sensation of power and the avalanche of alien memories are overwhelming. I can’t help myself. Laughter bubbles up from my throat, the kind of manic, near-hysterical laughter that warns you that you’re frighteningly near to losing your wits. The laugher cuts short. Briefly the world blurs. I unsteadily grab hold of a marble pillar. Bile rises in my throat.

I briefly struggle to fight it back down. I’ll be rotten damned if I start my first day in office (sorta, kinda, you know what I mean) by retching up over that fine silken shirt I’m wearing. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Easy now. You can do this.

I gaze at my reflection in the window. A gaunt, pale face peers back at me. A thousand and one questions flutter through my head like angry butterflies. How the hell did I end up in this mess? How am I supposed to steer the biggest bunch of cutthroat capitalist assholes I've ever seen? How… How… How..?

Shit. I desperately need a drink.

[Lonestar]

The Lights dimmed, and tick-tock of the Grandfather clock in the office stopped. It even seemed suddenly cloudy outside.

Lonestar looked around and suddenly(or was she always standing there?) a woman appeared by one of the VTC displays. The woman was gaunt, had a skin color that resembled the bodies Lonestar had seen in the Indian Ocean, and had an air of "lunatic" about her.

Lonestar sat down in his chair, and began frantically pushing the silent alarm button. He opened a desk drawer with his other hand and reached for the contents. Every Dominion Citizen-soldier had to be skilled in firearms. Lonestar silently thanked Q for a lifetime of memory downloads.

"That won't work, your security is no longer available." The Woman hissed. "Hrrmm…thinner than I thought, I guess Q indulged you by letting you slim down to deployment weight." The woman paused as she heard the snap of the 9mm magazine being slid in. "That won't work eith-"

*BAM! BAM!* The two rounds entered the woman and dark, thick blood splattered on the wall behind her. Before Lonestar knew it she was standing in front of him and he'd been thrown against the wall. Blinking back lights he raised his 9mm again, but his wrist was grabbed by one of her hands, and she was apparently much stronger than him. Her breath smelled like rotting meat.

"Now," the woman said, "Are you going to listen or continue to act like an idiot-child?"


"Who are you?" Lonestar gasped, trying to regain control of the situation.

The eyes narrowed. "You don't recognize me? Not surprising, I suppose. Q has appointed me to be the…moderator for this little party."

"Bullshit. Not his MO."

"Then who am I?"

"Some wretched creature, maybe on or near Q's level, but not a representative of Q. You…" Lonestar paused. "…Do you have fangs?"

"I see your observational abilities haven't atrophied since your SDN days. Listen to me very carefully, my job here is to prevent hinges from getting out of hand, like last time. As tempting as it may be, especially after you shot me twice, I am not going to kill you. I'm just paying a courtesy call to explain the rules."

"What rules?"

"I haven't decided yet." The woman let go of Lonestar's wrist. Lonestar flexed his fingers…it was as if his arm hadn't been crushed and twisted in pain seconds ago… "But, I'm the moderator for this adventure."

"Marina?"

"Ah, finally it clicks. I will be seeing you." And with that, the lights went back on, she(but not the blood) disappeared, and the sky cleared.

[phongn]

Flicker.

What the?. One moment - a hospital in the UKB, my deathbed, dying of old age, a lifetime of stress and hardship built up. The Board, forcibly evacuated from Hue when it became clear what would befall the Republic. Evacuated to Atlantis even as our last vengeance struck against the Reds ... and then, quiet. Calm. Generations of strained peace with half the world an irradiated ruin.

Military rule became the norm for those lucky enough to evacuate ... a toothless director of the board - me - watching the daily struggle to survive. And then, a quiet death, a lone in some hospital and ---

Where am I? An office, tastefully and simply appointed as I prefer, quiet. Multiple monitors on my desk showing the day's data, the day's work --- other screens inlaid into walls showing the news. News? And the date. No wonder everything looks so primitive, but why am I here? - then the intercom buzzes. " Your 2:00, Mr. Nguyen. " Reflexive acceptance - a second set of memories flooding me, merging, my mind understanding.

And --- it's her. But not her - her elegant coat and clothing masks her body but her face is ... disfigured. Changed. Deep in the uncanny valley, so close as to trigger every instinctive warning my brain can offer.

" Marina. " A nod from her - and then she speaks - " The game is afoot again. But this time - Q wants a little more structure, so he has appointed me as the Moderator. Everything you need to know is in here " - she passes over a DVD. " Your appointments for the rest of the day are ... canceled. Do go over the material. "

And then she's gone. Read the disc - just files. Nothing malicious - as if she needed something so mundane with what powers she obviously has! Briefings. Six hundred years past on home Earth - what did my family think? A new world ... a much more dangerous one than before.

[Coyote]

Seaside Palace, Canissia



Arik Coyotus-I rolled over in bed, enjoying the warm sunlight, the gentle breeze from the open, gauze-like curtains, and the gentle, rhytmic crash of the waves on the beach. The call of seagulls played in his ears as he realized he'd had sufficient sleep, and he began to pull himself up, out of bed, and put on his robe.

Siobahn had already gotten up-- he could smell the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee-- but Isabelle lounged in bed. He walked silently on bare feet across the cool marble floor towards the entertainment room. It was dark in there, but that was normal; the windows had thick shutters on them so as not to overwhelm the giant plasma-screen TV. He was halfway through the room when he realized it was much darker than usual, and he wasn't making any progress towards the far archway.

Finally, it him him, in his still-waking mind-- What the fuck is going on? I'm not here... this whole thing... He looked down at himself, his hands, felt his face... he wasn't the gnarled, tired, 80-year-old-man that died... yesterday?

He awoke, fully, with a start-- Canissia... it's all still here.

"There are some changes," a voice said behind him-- a very familiar voice, someone he hadn't heard from in years. He spun, and saw...

"Marina!" he said, breaking into a smile. Having actually met her in person, he recognised her immediately, even if there was something different about her appearance. Immediately he embraced her, noting the odd coolness of her skin... and her somewhat detached demeanor. He stepped back. "decided to join us in our escapade?" he asked.

"Not... entirely," she said, her eyes distant, and somehow... predatory. Her face was thinner, hollowed, almost, and her features darker-- noticeable even in the low light.

"You alright?" Arik asked, concern on his face. She smiled, not a happy, cheerful smile, but an 'I have something difficult to say' smile.

"There's been... a sort of reboot," Marina said, "Of the scenario. I am here as a sort of... agent of Q. He felt like all his worst thoughts about humanity were exemplified in the way the last version of this game ran, so he decided to start again."
"Again," Arik said. "How far back are we re-starting?" he asked.

"Well, there's the rub," Marina said, "It's sort of a... well, it's like you're picking up where you left off, just before the nuclear war. But the world is different. It's more real, if you will. These people evolved and developed as we did on Earth, with near-identical technologies, an analogous history... they have an actual past, not a made-up set of fake memories implanted in soulless organic drones. If you think about it, you'll realize you have these memories and awareness as well-- a verifiable past here, with schools and teachers and a rise to political power that is documented in media."

"But... I'm still me, from Earth, and I suppose Pezook, and Rogue, and..."
"Yes," Marina said, "Your history here is the only thing artificially emplaced by Q."

Arik blinked, overwhelmed, and as the fog of waking up cleared completely from his mind he somehow just knew that everything was the same, but different: Canissia was bigger now; the continents were more formed... that there were continents, rather than islands; that Shep had a smaller, less wealthy nation as a sort of penance for his earlier role... a history, learned from history books of Canissian merchant lords and Old Dominion/Shepistan wars; world wars fought and won; museums full of real history...

"So... I remember everything from before, but no one else does?" he asked.
"Valid memories that would not interfere with the sense of time, or cause paradoxical memories, are remembered. And a few things about the past reflect the more dynamic nature of the development of this world," Marina explained, "For example, there's more political parties, more robust and diverse... in some cases things have been shuffled around a bit. For example, your... consort, Miss Jia, remembers being taken hostage by the eco-terrorist Kert Swanson, but in this reality it was over a year and a half ago."

"I see," Arik said, realizing it squared away nicely with his suddenly-remembered experiences.

"There are a few other things," Marina said, "This is the difficult part. It's about Earth."
"What about it?" Arik asked, "I was thinking of asking the Dropkick Murphys to come through for a concert, or something."

"That won't be happening," Marina said, "Q was a little annoyed by the fact that you used Earth as a lifeboat whenever things got tense," she said, "Whenever the sabers rattled, you sent your consorts and children through the portal with several pounds of gold in case the worst happened here."

"Well, it makes sense, doesn't it?" Arik asked. "I suppose he's limited the portal?"
"He's eliminated it," she said, "He felt that having a way out allowed people to make cavalier decisions and then duck out when it went bad... there is no portal, and Earth as you knew it is gone." She quickly explained the 600-year time gap. It was clear to Arik-- there was no going back; the boat home was hauled up on shore and burned.

"So," he said soberly, "This is it. We have to live with the choices we make."
"Yes," Marina said, "No going back, no hiding away our loved ones. It's a promotion to be here, in a way, but it's also a much harder level."

"Huh. Now I'm Sonic the Hedgehog. Um, anyway, what about nukes?"
"Search your memories," she said. Arik was amazed at the wash of "remembered" history that came back to him-- the use of the first nuclear bombs in the last war, by the losing side, the horror of devastation... he shivered, needing no false memory to recall that... and the ban treaty, which had been scrupulously adhered to by all world leaders since then.

"This'll take some getting used to," Arik said.
"There is much to get used to," Marina agreed. "You may hear from Q himself before too long... he told me he rather liked sparring with you; he said you reminded him of Picard," she said with a little laugh.
"Greeeaaat," he groaned, and Marina stepped back, into the shadows to be swathed in darkness... and disappeared.

Arik felt alive, and yet alone... cut off from Earth, he realized he missed the escape route it provided, but couldn't well up too much concern over th eloss. Their own piss-poor judgements managed to come back at them, he thought. Maybe they'll do better next 600 years...

He snapped out of his reverie, and walked into the other room, absently noted by the wall clock that, as near as he could tell, maybe thirty seconds had elepsed during his meeting with Marina, even though it had felt like almost an hour at the time.

"Morning, sleepyhead," a familiar voice said, and he looked over at the radiant smile of Siobahn-- young again, as if no time had passed; her eyes bright, her red hair shining, her skin smooth... her breasts perky and taught beneath her robe.

"Oh, hell yes," Arik said as he reached out to tug at the belt on her own robe. Her eyes widened in suprise.
"You act like you haven't seen me in... forty years!" she said as he pulled her to him.
"You have no idea," he said as he smothered her in kisses...

[Siege]

It is still night when the intruder appears. I’m sitting in what I somehow know is the luxuriously furnished study of president Hank – meaning, I correct myself, that it’s now my study – with a crystal glass of increasingly pricey Vineyardian cognac in my hands. Hands which has by now stopped shaking, I’ve noticed, which is damn well considering I’m on my fourth glass already.

Apparently that fine brew is good for altering ones responses to the unexpected as well, because rather than freak out at the sudden, silent appearance of a brooding figure in the study, I merely raise an eyebrow. She’s pale, anorexic-looking, with two bullet holes through her upper torso that look as if they’re just starting to heal… And are those fangs? Damn.

“Marina, eh?” I say, knowledge and recognition somehow flowing into my mind from gods-knew-where – a sensation I’m already starting to get used to. “Well, don’t just stand there. Grab a chair, and I’m sure there’s a few extra glasses around here… Somewhere…” My voice trails off in a distinct tipsy slur.

“You’re drunk,” she observes icily.

“Ya know, there’s a pretty good Churchill vs. Lady Astor joke to be made there,” I retort with a throwaway gesture. “But somehow I’m not in the mood.”

She ignores me, instead setting herself down in the red chesterfield chair opposite me, a hawkish attitude about her. “I am here because Q has appointed me to moderate his little game,” she says. “Which means there are going to be rules.”

“Rules,” I nod slowly, trying to ignore the spinning sensation doing so produces. “I like rules. Rules are good.”

“You might not think so when you find out what they are,” she produces a file from, well, somewhere. Conjures it up from thin air for all I know, that certainly doesn't strike me as too far-fetched if you can appear out of thin air as well. The file’s got ‘confidential’ and ‘your eyes only’ stamped on it in big red capitals, precisely the way you’d expect such a file to look if you’ve seen too many spy movies. “Read it, and mark it well. And you’d better be quick about it - it’ll selfcombust in 30 minutes.” She eyes the glass in my hand, looking faintly contemptuous. “Be seeing you… Mr. president.”

She disappears into thin air, and I’m once more alone in the study. Somewhere out the window, the sun is creeping up behind the unending cityscape, throwing rays of dull orange light across the roofs of the skyscrapers.

“Great,” I murmur, and open the file.

By the time I’m done reading, my hands are shaking all over again.

[K. A. Pital]

The Siberian jungle

Q was smiling.
- I knew you would make up your mind!
The former Secretary General seemed so tired that no emotions could be traced on his face.
- I'm getting the kidney back.
- Sure you are, - Q smiled. - But you will still suffer - your age will be brought to a point where you will only live long enough to see your nation's slow, painful decline... and not much more. If, of course, you can make miracles with it's position, - Q laughed, - which I doubt.
- Sure. Finishing my life as a mighty ruler. After all the shit you pulled here, that's fine for me, - smiled Stanislav as he became progressively older.
- There you go, - Q smiled as well. - The Crimson Star Republic is ready to meet it's long-time ruler, President of the Supreme Soviet of the People's Deputees, Stanislav.
- Cut the chatter. Let's get to business.

Old Continent. Crimson Star Republic. Stasograd, Palace of the Soviets. Dawn.

The Crimson Star Republic. It is probably what the Red Technocracy would have become in a hundred years from the time of the first Great Game, thought the President. An ailing, yet powerful nation. Mostly secluded from the world and held in hand by the ever-present security mechanisms like the KGB, slowly preparing to meet it's eventual fate: desintegration.

But maybe not everything is lost?

The streets are becoming dirtier each day. More than vocal are the opposing parties in the Supreme Soviet - even those "oppositioners", who were formerly legalized with the promise of being loyal to the power.

The Crimson Star on top of the Great Palaces no longer shines, and people barely know just who lie in the Pantheon of Great Citizens.

Corruption in the militsia, rising costs of social care to the elderly, failing construction speeds and, despite the great technological advancements, a failing cultural level - less readers, less people with a good education.

Stanislav stood up from his chair. It made a creaking noise. Will the light of the Crimson Star shine anew, or is our cause lost forever? He clenched fists. He, and his nation, his new civilization, he thought, will not vanish from history.

"The greater is the glory of ancestors, the more apparent in it's light is the vanity of their descendants" spoke Gaius Marius in ancient Rome.

It was time to prove him wrong.

[RogueIce]

(OOC: If this were set to music, it'd be "Harvey Two Face" from TDK soundtrack. )

Presidential Residence, Midgar, Shinra Republic

Rufus Shinra woke up when the sunlight hit his eyes. Damn it, I never get enough sleep anymore...

That thought had just finished going through his head when he realized he wasn't actually as tired as he'd been the past four decades. As a matter of fact, he felt better now than he had for as long as he could remember.

Well, that's a relief. He looked behind him to share this comment with his wife Kamila...but to his horror, she wasn't there. What the fuck? What's happening?! Where is she?! He then glimpsed his own hand, lying on the bed. This was not the age and stress wrinkled hand of the old leader of a nation recovering from the horrors of nuclear war. This hand was younger, more sure.

Suddenly memories started flooding in, and he knew, as he looked around his own bedroom. No, this wasn't the room he'd spent four decades in. It was different, yet so very familiar all the same.

He shook his head, wondering when Q would tire of these games, and walked towards his closest. All of a sudden the bright rays of the morning sun faded, and a cold darkness consumed the room. He stopped and prepared to meet his guest. "Isn't this a little dramatic Q, even for you?" His voice was hard. He wasn't happy at this little turn of events.

"Sorry, Mister President." Rufus felt a chill go down his spine. The voice behind him was female. With a distant sadness in her tone, yet entirely cold. "But I'm not who you think I am."

He turned and saw her. Once, perhaps, he would have been frightened by what her appearance. But he'd seen worse. Although they had been, mercifully, dead. Her, on the other hand... There was something familiar about her, and not the false, imposed familiarity of his surroundings.

She smiled. "Yes, you do know me. It's me, Marina, and Q has appointed me the Moderator in this, the second round of his game."

Rufus felt his eyes narrow. "The second round. Of this game." He knew she was not the one to blame, but he couldn't keep some of the anger out of his voice. "And what of everyone from Terra Nova?"

"They're gone. Those poor soulless drones...it's probably better this way."

"They weren't all a bunch of soulless drones. They were people, damn it! Friends. Comrades. Husbands, fathers, sons, daughters..." his voice choked up and he could barely force out his final word. "Wives."

Marina merely looked at him curiously. "You loved her, didn't you?"

"Yes." The word was barely a whisper. But he knew Marina had heard it.

"I'm sorry." She walked over and handed him a folder. "Here, this is why I came her. Like I said, Q appointed me the Moderator of this game. And there are some rules."

Rufus took the folder from her, and wordlessly began reading.

[DarthShady]

Location: Temple Prime, Sarajevo, USSR

The room was dark with only a hint of light coming in through one of the windows. The bed was soft and Shady didn't feel like getting up, his mind was waking up slowly. He got up and walked over to the bathroom. The water felt cold and pleasant going down his throat. "Wait, shouldn't I be dead?"-he asked himself. As he walked out of the bathroom he noticed that the room had become incredibly dark and cold. "What the hell is going on?"-Shady thought to himself, and then he saw her, a ghostly figure in the corner of the room.

"Who are you and where am I?"

The eerie silence was unnerving.

"Wait, you look familiar. I swear I saw you somewhere before."

"You did, but that was a long time ago. I am here to explain things to you so listen up?

"Marina? Is that you?"

"Yes, now listen. Q had decided to give you guys a second chance. A chance to correct your mistakes. You have a new country and a new mind."

"A new mind?"

"Yes. After your little Insanity Episode last time Q has restored your mind back to normal, well as normal as you ever were."

"I see."

Suddenly Shady's mind filled with memories, memories that were clearly his but were not really his. He remembered his country, his people, the history of this new world. He grabbed his head and feel on the floor.

"What is this?"

"A little gift from Q to make the transition easier. Take this folder, it explains everything you need to know.

Q has appointed me to moderate the game this time, to make sure it doesn't end like the last one. "

"I see, does that mean that I can expect more visits from you?"

"Yes. Now prepare yourself, you have a country to run."

Marina disappeared into the shadows leaving Shady to read the folder she gave him and contemplate the future.

[Karmic Knight]

Sheoth Isle, The Vineyards.
December 7, 2007 (Flashback)
“Our Monarch is no longer able to help our people unchecked. We must bring our legal dictatorship to a less despotic end…” I droned on about the despotic rule of my cousin, paying more attention to a nondescript man in the crowd that had gathered to listen to me speak of the evils of absolute monarchy, something they should be well versed in what with the problems that are being caused by the current monarch.

Following the speech, the nondescript man called me over to him. As I walked, time slowed down, eventually stopping completely. “Thank you for your time Revolutionary, but I must admit; I have use for your existence.” With a snap of the beings fingers, everything went dark.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Brandon shook himself awake from his poorly written dream, he realized things were not the same, nor even close to similar. He was not sleeping on a mattress on the floor of a midsized room, “Fuck,” was the only word that could be muttered as he look around a room fit for royalty. Which, given the memories that were flowing into his mind, was probably an accurate description of where he was.

Those foreign thoughts chose to attack his personal opinions, goals, ideas, and memories, trying to replace Brandon with some other entity. This was obviously an exercise in futility, as both sides were evenly matched; neither the foreign memories nor Brandon’s thoughts were any more or less accurate for either the body or the situation the body found itself in.

The result was a series of internal negotiations, in which he bargained with the foreign consciousness for control of his body. The two thoughts reached a shaky peace between both of them, the foreign consciousness would provide memories and things it had done while place holding the body, and Brandon would live more or less normally. The situation the cynical teen found himself in was a very far from the norm, but, like the Oasis song goes, “You’ve got to roll with it/You’ve got to take your time.”

“Fuck, that was terrible, even for me,” he mumble to himself, more worried about when the next reality defying even would happen than what he was going to do if the people didn’t speak the one language he knew. A sharp pop filled his introspective ears, and he looked up annoyed, “::sigh:: Hello… Moderator, I assume Q is too good for us, now?”

The Moderator, a, pallid, starved looking person, responded with only, “I’m here to give you the rules of the game,” placing a packet on Brandon’s end table, and leaving a quickly as she had come.

With another sigh, Brandon opened the packet and began reading it, “Fuck, I am never going to get around to reading The Scarlet Letter. Oh well, nothing ventured, nothing lost.”

Today was a wonderful day to learn how to run a country.

[Vohu Manah]

Kun-lun Arcology, Most Serene Republic of Ninhursag

"Why do I feel like I'm in a fucked up version of the game Civilization?" I asked myself out loud. The elevator ride down to the sub-levels utilized by this nation's government took several minutes. I was alone in this car, a fact I enjoyed. I stood towards the front of the car, facing the single set of doors that would lead out once I arrived at my desired floor.

"That sounds about right."

Well, I was alone but not anymore. I smirked, but I'm not sure why, "I personally find that game far more interesting than this personal hell you've inflicted on us."

"I'd say it was all part of my master plan," started Q, "but then I'd be lying. How are you sleeping these days?"

Considering the last round for me ended thanks to a slow, painful death by radiation poisoning I tried to change the subject, "I never once saw you in the old world, and now you join me here." I turned my head to face the visitor, "You must really be desperate for attention."

"You're not exactly worthy of attention, Vohu, there are simply far more entertaining subjects than you." Q replied. "For once I intend to carry out a promise."

I turned back towards the steel doors of the elevator car, "So you didn't forget?"

"He'll be joining you within days."

"Thank you." Now I have a new nation. Hopefully I don't screw the pooch on this one.

[Coyote]

Fort Garou Military Base
1400 Hours



King Arik Coyotus-I calmly walked down the ranks of soldiers, resplendant in their dress uniforms, rifles spotless and cleaned, bayonets gleaming in the warm afternoon sun. He himself was in his Royal version of the same Army uniform; it was, apparantly, a tradition that all members of the Royal Family serve in some military capacity, and there Royal versions of the uniforms from whatever branch they served in. For Arik, that meant Army.

He was doing his once-monthy inspection of the Royal Guard-- a purely ceremonial title, but it carried with it a proud history. It was a Legacy Brigade, left over from the old days --the Medieval era, it turned out, and the unit traced its history of loyal, unbroken service back to the earliest periods of that time.

After the ranks of Infantry was truly an awesome spectacle to behold-- the ranks of Dragoons, in shiny back-and-breast plates, on disciplined, powerful horses-- a legacy Cavalry unit, purely for ceremonial purpose, but still made up of Army soldiers with functioning weapons. After them was the Ligth Armored brigade, the actual, modern version of the Royal Dragoons that safeguarded the Palace and Royal Family.

He finished his inspection --all was well, of course-- and the troops were dismissed while the King was expected to go to an afternoon recpetion with the officers, where, in theory, they could discuss things "informally". It was mostly a time for fine cigars and brandy, really, and Arik got the chance to speak (and subtly acquaint himself) with his Generals.

He pieced together a larger vision of the history he'd "learned"; getting a feel for it with the people in th eroom. He knew he'd made the right choice, the inspection and the reception-- the storied Royal Guards headquarters would have, of course, walls full of old pictures, awards, campaigns, pictures of past Generals and young soldiers decorated with the Canissian Cross of Valor-- their stories, accounts of battles, even old weapons and banners, Canissian and captured from fallen foes alike. It was an excellent way to get a feel for things-- at least from th epoint of view of the Royal Guard.

"Colonel Rassnar," he said, and his aide appeared-- he was, in fact, a member of the Royal Guard, on special detached duty as Palace Aide-- "I want to arrange a tour of Canissian historical museums and war memorials," the KIng said casually, "I think that a tour such as this would encourage more youthful interest in learning history."

"Of course, sir," the Colonel said, and penciled the idea into the King's datebook. "An excellent idea. We have not done such a tour for a couple years now." Arik smiled-- he knew that. He'd casually surfed the Novaterran Internet that morning over breakfast, and "Binoculated" (rather than "Googled", as it turned out) himself to get caught up on th elast couple years' worth of press releases. An educational tour would be just the thing for Canissia's youth to see... and for himself, as well.

The reception finished, and the King went back out to his waiting limosine, the locked briefcase with the files Marina gave him secure inside. His security chief, Karl Tigh, was waiting patiently for him.

"Good to see you again, Karl," the King said warmly. Tigh, a brief flicker of confusion on his face, nodded in return.
"Afternoon, sir," he said, "Ready to pack it in?"
"Let's go home," the King said. "I have some homework, I guess you could say, to get caught upon." They got in the car, Tigh up front next to the driver; black biodiesel-electric armor-plated SUVs full of SPS guards in front and back of the bulletproof limo.
"Coyote is leaving," Tigh said into his radio. The advance units acknowledged, and the convoy moved out.

In the back of the limo, Arik dug out his personal cellphone and opened it. On speed-dial were his MESS contacts, and Pezook, the leader of the only state Canissia shared a border with. He hit the number for Rufus Shinra.

"Hey, Arik," th evoice responded, "You're here, too, huh?"
"Yeah," he replied, "I decided to go another round."
"Not like we have a lot of choice, eh?" Rufus asked. Arik shrugged reflexively.
"yeah, well," he said, "It's niot like it's bad to be the King, after all."
"It's for keeps this time," Rufus said with a sigh.

"Well... we should call a MESS conference soon, get the lay of th eland, compare notes, that sort of thing. I'll dig around for any threat dossiers I may have on my neighbors. I'm next to Bean... well, we have a small ocean between us. And we have NPCs to contend with this time."

"Yeah," Rufus said. He sounded weary already. "Yeah, it'll be more interesting, I guess. Maybe we can keep from blowing this one up." Arik chuckled.
"Believe me, I would have been perfectly fine not blowing up the last one," he said, "Let's get with the others and arrange a meet. You guys can come here, if you like..."
"Yeah, let's start making the phone rounds and we'll talk again tonight."
"Good deal," Arik said, and they hung up.

Arik sat back in the car, and went through some of the music selections on the MP3 system. Well, I wasn't totally cut off from Earth after all, he realized, noting that mixed in with a lot of Canissian bands he'd never heard of (but presumably liked) there was a lot of stuff from Earth, as well. He found one that seemed particularly apt and hit "play".

The car wound through the streets of Neve Tikveh, the King looking at the city's old and new districts as Pink's Let's Get This Party Started played on...

[Grand Moff Yenchin]

The sound of a militaristic fanfare slowly substituted the cheesy dance beat of the "Lipstick Lesbians".

Instead of standing in front of a crowd of post-apolyptic baby superboom generation adults and teenagers, Yenchin found himself, young again, standing in front of about 300 men and women, all wearing some funny clothing which seemed like a hybrid of ancient Chinese, Japanese, various European, and even Taiwanese Aboriginal styles. They were silent, all watching him, seemingly hiding their confusion.

"O.....k?"

"I believe the proper words should be 'Pray hope the morning sun forever shine our lands, yet never forget the martyr's blood fully shed in the soil.' In....4 or 5 languages?" A woman's sound came from behind.

Time seemed to freeze. The fanfare stopped, the banners seemed to pause, the wind stopped, though Yenchin could still breath.

"Q!!!! Are you joking me?" Yenchin turned around, sword in hand. What he saw wasn't the usual Q.

"Hey. Watch out where you're waving this." She actually stopped the sword by just pinching it.

The looks of her made Yenchin wonder what made her muscles move, and what made her talk, there seemed to be some...death(?) surrounding her.

Vague memories came in. "Sorry, er...um....Ma..."

"Yeah. Me. Marina. Q made me game mod for this round."

"So..." Still puzzled, Yenchin chose his words carefully, "This time we get a 'supernatural medieval' scenario?"

"Nope. Same as last time. 21st Century scenario. It's just your Kingdom doing some tradition thing today."

"So....why am I wearing this...this...King's Robe?" How did he know the term? Suddenly, everything began to "make sense" to Yenchin. It was Martyr's Memorial Day. All main officials, legislatives, and Grand Judges of the Governmental Halls were attending the Memorial Service for the Fallen Heroes of the Kingdom of Serenity.

"Good, you're updated with the knowledge, now let me add some points of the rules and reality."

A few moments later, she left. Yenchin swallowed the lump in his throat and whispered to himself, "And so it begins....Round 2."

The Service proceeded without any further interference.

[Czechmate]

Unspecified region of the Leicester Mountains, West Highland County, Westchester

The enemy's fire was everywhere, impacting the lightly-vegetated slopes around the Westchestrian patrol platoon. rockets and tracers whistled through the air, narrowly missing Lance Corporal of Scouts Alexander Denman. He instinctively dropped down through the turret cupola of his Scimitar light tank and dogged the hatch, settling into the gunner's seat.

As he leaned into his nightvision scope and tried to slew the Scimitar's autocannon around to engage the hidden enemy, a Southron Panzerfaust missile streaked in through the open rear door of one of the platoon's Spartan APCs and detonated, killing its' crew and the dismount section attempting to exit the vehicle.

Denman could hear over the intercom the cursing of his vehicle's Lancastrian driver, Lance Corporal of Scouts James Trent, as fragments of the Spartan's hull bounced off the hull hard enough to make ears ring. Next to him the Scimitar's commander, Sergeant of Scouts Timothy Friesley, a native of the capitol city of Chester like Denman, leaned into the TC scope and began to give Denman essential information.

"Gunner!", he barked, "Contact, Southron rocket crew at one twenty meters and fifty-seven degrees left! Fire!"

Denman tightened his grip on the turret-control joystick, turning and raising the gun to bear, and with a cry of "On the way!", depressed the firing stud.

Next to him, the Scimitar's 30-millimeter autocannon's whirred to life, making a chest-beating thunking noise as it began to fire high explosive armor piercing shells at the People's Army mortar crew some three hundred sixty feet distant. Moments later, the shells began to impact around the crew, detonating and showering the area with lethal metal fragments. Moments after that, the rocket crew were dead. As he began to swivel the turret to bear on a group of Southron infantrymen rushing toward the cover of the destroyed Spartan, the scout platoon's other Scimitar spat a burst of shells, shredding them into bloody mist.

Once the surviving Spartan's dismount section secured the remains of the other APC and the platoon's Scorpion began to locate and target the enemy with its' 76mm gun, the Southron ambush group rapidly ceased to exist, either dying or melting into the bleak, craggy mountainside. Denman and Friesley both undogged their hatches and stood, Friesley ordering his driver to slowly bring the tank about to rejoin the other surviving vehicles. Denman, for his part, simply took in the blissful silence and cool air of a night in the Highlands after surviving yet another skirmish with Southron troops in the disputed region.

Chester City, The Home Counties, Westchester
Mount August Castle

Ezekiel Donley awoke with a start, sitting up and attempting to clear his mind enough to make sense of his surroundings. After some moments of hazy attempts at recognition, he concluded he was, in fact, in a strange (and enormously comfortable) bed and an (enormously palatial) unfamiliar room. And that, sitting comfortably in an easy chair across the room and sipping a cup of tea, illuminated by an ethereal light, there was a peculiar man.

He set down his teacup on a plate floating in midair and smirked knowingly, his eyes alight with playful mischief as he spoke.

"Good evening, Mr. Donley. You may call me 'Q'. I understand your surprise at the sudden change in locale, but I am afraid you will simply have to deal with it for the time being. You will be returned to your home in good time. I am sure you'll be able to find something to do here."

Ezekiel simply stared, one cheek twitching slightly, wishing fervently this was some kind of horrid delirium. Perhaps he'd eaten something strange the previous evening.

Q merely continued to smirk, standing and plucking the cup from its' midair perch as he continued his little speech.

"You will find you have replaced the Emperor of these lands, a rather peculiar young fellow named Xavier Westchester. All portraits, descriptions, and historical references have been changed to your likeness and personality. Your name is no longer Ezekiel. Xavier's name and titles are now yours until such time as I reset the timeline. I suggest you get back to sleep; you'll have a very busy day."

And with that he disappeared, taking the cup with him.

As for the plate, it merely hung in midair for some moments, as if unsure of its' purpose; it then firmly plummeted itself into the floor with a sharp shattering noise and what could be misconstrued as a faint banzai scream.

[Coiler]

"Where am I?"

"You're in the Coilerburg presidential palace, Mr. Jeffrey S."

The voice was female and somehow unearthly. Jeffrey S. had never been in this office before, and his mood was not improved when he actually saw the woman. She was blond, extremely pale, and had two bullet wounds in her body.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"Marina the moderator. Q has restarted Nova Terra. You're the president of Coilerburg. Don't you remember?"

With those words, Jeffrey felt the Q-implanted memories come to the forefront of his mind. He remembered the entire history of his country. He remembered the settlement of Coilerburg, its history as the colonies around it gained independence, the devastating war launched by President Iler, the coup that ousted him and ended the war, and the recent history of his nation.

It was bizarre, having memories of two seperate worlds. It raised implications about the nature of reality that a man could go insane pondering. But Jeffrey shook himself out of that. He couldn't waste time with head in the clouds pondering. Not when he had a country to run.

[Lonestar]

Royal Palace, Williamsburg

Lonestar, the Lord Fairfax of the Old Dominion, stared at the security playback. He was putting the brief down...then looking startled and confused.

"There is nothing there, your Excellency." The Grandmaster of the Knights of the Dominion(who were responsible for security), Berthold Tunna said.

Lonestar sighed. "Fine, I must have just had a-" One of the red lines beeped, and he picked up the phone.

"King Arik for you, your Excellency." The switchboard operator said.

"Well, patch him through!" He nodded at Tunna. "That'll be all, thank you." The Grandmaster bowed and left the office.

"Matt?"

"Hey Ariik, I was wondering when the troublemakers would start calling."

"Funny. You alone?"

"Just you, me, and the switchboard operator."

"Listen, have you gotten a visit from, well, her, explaining the rules yet?

"I got a visit...not a very good explaination of the rules. She left in a huff."

"Why?"

Lonestar coughed.

"I...uh...shot her."

"You did what??"

"Look, the silent alarm wasn't working, horrible zombie vampire thing in the corner, it's nothing anyone else wouldn't have done."

"I didn't shoot her, and neither did RogueIce!"

"Oh...well...water under the bridge. You mind going over any specific rules for me?"

"*sigh*Sure thing"

Lonestar listened to the rules, and and nodded. No Portal? Damn.

"...so I'm thinking we need to hold a MESS meet ASAP, is Canissa fine?

There was a call-waiting beep, and Lonestar glanced at the screen on the VOIP. The Director of the Bureau of Military Information was on the line.

"That sounds fine. Hey listen Arik, I need to step off."

"Roger"

Lonestar switched lines. "This is Matt."

"Sir, I'm sending you a feed on your display right now, the Kanawha loonies have sent out another video message."

"Patch it through."

One of the displays turned on and a grainy video appeared, with a bedsheet behind the speaker.

"In the name of Ba'al, the Relentless, the Just, the Vengeful, I decree the recent Shepistani attack on the innocents to be one sin that the Godless infidel's of this continent have inflicted on the peaceful Kanawha people. The infidel's known as the Old Dominion are complicit in these murders, by turning a blind eye to us. Henceforth, I issue a judgment against the Old Dominion and include it in the Holy War for the Kanawha people. Your military, your people, and your cities are all legitimate war targets, and I will wage war until you and your conspirators cease the oppression of my people.

"I, Al-Nitrami, say this, fuck-os!"

[Zor]

Zorston Palace: 35km outside Port Victory, United Kingdom of Zoria

Leighton White, to his suprise, awoke not on a hospital bed in some remote bunker as he contracted some biological agent after the Saddamistani reprisal, but a lined bed in a finely and tastefully decorated bedroom. After a quick look about, he once again saw the visage of John DeLancie.

"I assume this is your doing, Q."

"Well who else could have been,'my Liege?'" Q Retorted, bowing sarcastically before the King. "Besides, you should be praising me for this go at round two. Or would you prefer to die alongside the rest of your nation from the Super Saddam Special your nation got hit with?"

"Alright, but where am i?"

"Well, King Leighton, i would assume that you would know about your own kingdom." With that, Zor was overwhelmed by the Knowlage of the inner workings of the new world to which he had been sent and of the new nation he was given. "Now if you excuse me, i shall bid you adue." With that, Q disapeered and King Leighton-I, Leader, Protecter and Defender of the United Kingdom of Zoria got to his feet for what was technically his first day on the Job .

[Beowulf]

Tian Xia
Forbidden City(Imperial Palace)

Huang Di Beowulf woke with a start. There was someone in the room, and it wasn't his concubine of the night. He pulled the sawed off shotgun from under the bed, and pointed it at the figure. "Who are you?"

"You don't remember? Hmm... Q must have done something different to you." The figure was clearly female from the voice, but Beowulf didn't recognize her. She came closer.

"Stay back, or I'll shoot. Where's my guards?"

"Your guards won't join you until after you leave. Similarly, that gun won't actually work. Lonestar tried a handgun on me, and I don't want to waste another blouse." Beowulf pulled the trigger, and found it frozen. The figure tapped him on the forehead, and the memories flooded back to him.

"Hi, Marina. I suppose Q's being a bastard again?"

"That would be correct, and he put me in charge of moderating this mess." She handed Beowulf a disk. "That will tell you everything you need to know. Destroy it when you've absorbed the contents. Oh, got any fresh meat?"

"Downstairs, in the kitchen. I keep a couple steaks around."

"See you around."

As suddenly as she appeared, she vanished. His concubine of the night walked into the room, suddenly wondering why the Emperor was up and holding a shotgun.

[Steve]

Co-written with Marina.

Presidential Mansion, Adams Capitol District


"Mister President, you're scheduled to leave in twenty minutes."

The voice cut through the large bearded man's mind. Away was a fairly roomy bedroom in a second-floor apartment overlooking the rainswept parking lot from that tenacious, unmoving lumbering tropical system named "Fay", replaced by a fairly and richly furnished office. The desk was made of fine wood with only papers and a stack of pens upon it. The center of the floor's carpet had a stylized horizontal tricolor of white, blue, and green, one that was easily recognized by him as the prefered colors of the Cascadian Independence movement... save, of course, the absence of "The Doug", the Douglas fir tree that said movement imposed upon their tricolor.

He had never stepped foot in the region called Cascadia, honestly, but the pictures he'd seen of it from friends, hell, even the "Ax-Men" program on History Channel and the long establishing shots of the Oregon countryside, had made him begin to appreciate the region far more than his hot, humid subtropical birthplace of Florida.

The sensation of wearing different clothing was next. Instead of a plain red T-shirt and cotton jogging shorts he was now richly attired in business jacket, black, with a business shirt and green tie. A pair of elegant business shoes were on his feet, easily US size 23 by the space he felt within them, enough to wiggle his toes.

He picked up and turned the nameplate on the desk. It was his name engraved in gold lettering upon a wood panel: Stephen T. Garrett. A glance to a paper on the desk confirmed the suspicion beginning to form through the confusion of the sudden change. A paper bearing his name accompanyed by the seal of "The President of the Republic of Cascadia".

Just what the hell is going on?

The woman's voice spoke up again. "Mister President?"

He fumbled around for a moment. He found the plain phone - contrasting to the ominous red one -and quickly scanned the labels of the buttons on it. He hit the intercom button. "Yes, I heard you. I'll be out soon," he answered.

Where am I going? The question went through his head. It felt too real to be a dream, and if it wasn't, if he was really a President of some strange alternate-reality republic, what was he going to do? A President was expected to know all matters of protocols and information that he did not. He didn't know the members of his Cabinent, the leading legislators... for Christ's sake, he didn't even know what his political party was! What was he going to do if this was a trip to some speech or public outing where his ignorance of these things would be pretty blatantly obvious.

"I've missed you, Steve," the soft soprano offered from the far side of the room as the clocks stopped ticking. "Welcome to the game, by the way, as evil as it is." She approached, lurching a bit on account of the energy she could exert incredibly for brief periods of time having been largely expended. Her heart only beat for a few hours of the day, and beyond those, she could scarcely move, and it showed. The wall provided some blessed support, and a hacking cough brought mucus out of the throat and into the wastebin, larval and writhing as it fell, very much filled with living things; and it revealed her teeth, as well, sharp and perfect fangs. The clothes she wore were handmade, a black leather lady's duster over a sleeveless blouse and trousers, both black; the former was silken, and there were arm warmers coming out of the coat to cover the palms of her hands. On the fingers, the nails had hardened and looked easily like they could rend flesh.

The flesh, though, that was the most horrible part, the perfect colour of death, simultaneously pallid white and yet darkened by the hints of the bileous, dead blood that swelled everywhere underneath her skin. The pockmarks of random, poorly healed scars in a few places contrasted with eyes as blue and clear and intense as the day they had been made; and that perfect blonde hair hanging long to the small of her back. "Yeah, you know who I am I think, old friend. You disappeared from Earth six hundred years ago. Q took you, and sent you here. This is his Game. You weren't in the original and I'm not sure why he selected you to just be in this one, especially since you disappeared at the same time as everyone else. And by Q I do indeed mean the character from Star Trek. The bastard is real, and, well, so are a bunch of other preternatural things. Like me, though I do have a scientific basis. Q, a while after you all disappeared, gave me some information on paranormal events which led to my discovering that some vampires did in fact exist. They got me." Another round of coughing followed. "And as you can unfortunately see, real vampirism isn't as glamorous as what Anne Rice wrought about, that's for hell sure."

"Marina." He had initially moved forward, almost as if to instinctively hug the emaciated figure, only stopping at the last moment as the sight really began to enter his consciousness. He listened to her story and, perhaps in a bad display of priorities, said, "I'd hoped to meet under better conditions. My God, what's happened to you?"

"You can hug me. I am safe, really," the voice came with a hint of distance--she was used to that sort of reaction. "Six centuries has worn long on me, of course. Everyone else, though, is dead. Well, almost everyone, but you'll understand if I don't elaborate on the choices I made for my personal life. At least now--I'm supposed to be impartial. It may be in the future when things are settled that Q will just let me wander and make some time with old friends. But there's also the recovery of civilization on Earth that I have to attend to. Prove him wrong about humanity, mostly. I'm rather determined to do that. I think it's because of that that.. He gave me certain powers over this world to make sure things stay in balance. Remember LOG?" She spread her hands in a warding gesture. "Don't wince. I'm in the same place you wrote yourself into in that story, though, okay?"

"You remember that even after six hundred years?" He let out a short, amused laugh and stepped forward to give a hug to Marina, trying not to be too tight in the embrace given how fragile she looked. "Recovery of civilization on Earth? I take it your worst predictions mostly came to pass."

"Worse, actually; global warming was a tad worse than we expected, though the hyper-storms which everyone predicted didn't prove to last for more than a period of fifty years or so, not long enough to completely destroy things. On the other hand, technological civilization didn't completely collapse, either. I was trying to set up a base for rocketry in the Siberian jungles--not quite the word for them, they're more a temperate rainforest like Cascadia--since they're the most intact people. Russians are used to hardship; there's more assertive things I can do with them than with anyone else." She leaned into the embrace for a moment, smiling sadly. "I'll keep doing my best, anyway. The more crucial thing is that you're here right now.. And you need to know what to do. I think the best way to do it is to just dump the info directly into your brain, which will hurt a little, but let you recall it instantly--all perfect memories. Are you ready for it? And remember, Steve, these are real people you're controlling. They have their own history, legacy, past, present, and aspirations for the future. I wish I could offer you something better than 'fuck up and you'll be killing real people', but those are just the goddamned facts."

"So I expected," was the reply. "Get to work then."

"Hang on..." The memory dump that followed was the perfect and complete life of the politician who had made himself the newly-elected head of Cascadia; he was, in all respects, Steve, but different, raised better and given a better life, and with more successes. Older too, of course, but that was to be taken for granted, though Steve's life, the information strongly hinted, would go from the point he was snatched; he would likely live to be a centenarian by the local calculation, but to his normal lifespan from when he was born on Earth. The crucial thing is that all the information there, down to the appearance at the local childrens' hospital, was there. As the flash of more or less overwhelming information finished, Marina smiled rather sadly. "I know you'll do your best. I'll keep everyone honest, at least, so just remember what you've learned in your lives and never give up."

The flood of memories were causing quite a headache, as was to be expected. But that was not what came to mind. He moved back toward the desk. "My family wasn't brought with me, were they?"

"It was just significant others and children who also disappeared, and you were single.." Marina smiled softly. "But they did alright. When I ended up chief project engineer for Areva Canada I had enough money to go around settling accounts--since you were missing, I bought your father a country mansion for his retirement up in western Maryland, which was still economically prosperous in those days. Your brother ultimately married--I am not sure how.." she smiled vaguely, "and I arranged for his family to come to Quebec, which is not substantially worse off than Siberia these days. Since Q didn't tell me I couldn't, I can track down their descendants if you like. I've been checking, and I can use this nifty teleporting power back on Earth, too. Saves like a thirty-two hour train ride followed by an eighteen hour flying boat flight to get from Omsk to Saguenay, and I feel guilty using so much energy even if it's trivial to my funds."

He slumped into the nearby chair. "That's... that's fine. Thank you. You did far more for them than I probably would've been able to." The idea that they at least ended well clashed with the stark knowledge that he would never, ever see his family again. He had a replacement family, certainly, if different in an altogether stressing way. But there was a part of him that rejected that idea. They ARE my family! the voice said, almost in a split-personality fashion. "This other me, the politician me, isn't just memories. He's simply being forced to share his body and life with a younger, far less capable version of himself," he mused aloud. "Just what gave Q the right to do this again?"

"Whatever gives the stronger the right to do as they please with the weaker? Remember the Melian Dialogues, Steve. They do as they please, and the weak endure what they must. Fortunately for us, Q is a trickster rather than a genuine Power, for evil or his own ambition. He can be reasoned with. And you can, to some extent, stand up to him. Do you think he would have chosen me otherwise? I have spent the last six hundred years playing word-games with him. Sometimes I win. Remember that, and take heart." She stepped closer, grabbing one of the President's hands and clasping it for a moment. "Good luck, and I'm sure you'll do well. You had so much potential that would have been wasted on Earth, anyway; perhaps it is unfair for it to be tested like this, but I know you can hold your own, Steve."

The gesture was welcome, though Marina's hands felt rather cold. "I'm sorry this had to happen to you," the President sighed. The feeling within him was that of resignation, perhaps even a tad of fatalism to it. "Well, I am here. I may as well do my new part. When you have time, I believe I have some local South Cascadian port in my private home's wine cellar made in, well, I believe back home it was Northern California, but the climate is slightly different here. And in this world I'm apparently not as temperate as I would have been back on Earth. So...." He put a hand on her shoulder. "Perhaps we should share a bottle of port as we once talked of doing?"

"Have it ready the next time I come; I can't keep time frozen for every much longer, unfortunately," she answered with a fond smile, turning away as another cough took her. "And don't worry about me. I have seen things that can scarcely be imagined, Steve--the flooding of the Caspian from the Black Sea, the ruins of New York rising out of the ocean, and warships alight on the night. Terrible but beautiful things, and I have seen, too, those that are simply beautiful; I have seen people come together to build cities anew, and I have watched the first twist of a waterwheel flicker life into the first lightbulb in a region in four hundred years. I started fission in the first pile of a thorium reactor, and soon enough I'll see that power send us to the stars again, once and for all, and show Q what we are indeed made of. And I've seen mystical things, too, hints of beliefs and knowledge about which even the Q might fear. Perhaps if your scientists are proficient enough they shall bore a way through reality in time, beyond your life, but in that of your children, and meet me and the ships I have sent to the stars. I will not mince words with you--my existence is a fairly miserable one. Vampires, as it turns out, are quite.. Marginal creatures, barely able to stay alive, for all our incredible feats in some areas. But I have been alive for six hundred years." She smiled. "That's made it worth it to me. Good luck, Steve--I have to go now."

"Good luck to you, old friend. I look forward to meeting you again." There was one last goodbye hug.

"As I, you." She stepped away, smiled tiredly, and turned to the side, vanishing in a distortion of blackness as she did. Time itself snapped back into existence like a rubber band being released, and the game was on.

For several minutes he sat in that chair. He was still absorbing all of the information suddenly plunged into his mind along with the strange feeling of being two versions of the same basic human being in one body. This counterpart of his had grown up in slightly different circumstances, with a slightly-less dysfunctional family though similar economic situation. He could now remember a different schooling, a better one than what he'd had on Earth that had encouraged his natural love and desire for historical learning and government operation. He remembered a short stint in the Cascadian Army, realizing his Republic here had a draft in the process, and... marriage? Children, one of them already an adult, with grandchildren a possible in the immediate future?

His musings were interrupted by the secretary. She called to him, reminding he was supposed to leave in three minutes. He reached for the intercom button again. "I'll be out in a couple seconds, Mrs. Rawlings." Taking one last look at the office before him, President Garrett drew in a sigh and silently resolved to make the best of what he'd been given before stepping out to this strange new life.

[Master_Baerne]

"Your Grace." The voice, a quiet hiss from the corner of the room, washed over James Baerne where he stood in a motionless lunge, saber extended towards the wall-mounted target. He snapped to an en garde, then to a normal standing posture, turning to face the corner in the same lithe movement.

At the first glimpse of deathly pale flesh, he fell to his knees under the weight of memories not his own. A Duke watched his nation rise, and the burn with the rest of the world under an onslaught of nuclear fire. A citizen of the United States played a game of thrones and navies over the Internet.

The same Duke ruled a different land, in a different world. One administered by the vampiress before him.

"Your Grace." He replied. "Always a pleasure." She smiled, and explained the new order of things.