July 3, 1999

"Are you sure you've got the right directions, anyway?"

"Cammy that's the third time you've asked me that in the last ten minutes! YOU'RE the one who wanted to see the sand sculptures that side of the beach has to offer for the Annual Sand Tournament!"

"And YOU'RE the one who said 'I know how to get there'!"

"Just follow, would ya?!? We'll be there soon..."

Cammy couldn't help but pout a little at the exasperated tone Jeremy had taken as he looked for landmarks on the boardwalk that served as the pedestrian area overlooking the great white beaches of Salt Shores and the great watery expanses of the ocean beyond. There were a lot of people coming and going, old and young, some buying things from the food kiosks - her grey-eyed husband already was an avid buyer of the ketchup-mustard hotdogs sold there, looking out for someone, or generally just walking for the heck of it. After a pouty look at his back - the inactive SCD of course never noticed as she stood two paces behind him - she found herself noticing with irritation the attention nearly every single woman from the age of fifteen to forty were giving her husband, and also saw the hungry, slightly frightning drooling looks most men of the same age category gave her.

Sigh. She guessed building their bodies to take rthe strain they usually put them throught had this drawback - no way could they be unconspicuous here, especially in swim suits. Jeremy only his orange one, looking at a paper where he'd noted directions angrily, while she was in a one-piece suit of dark blue that, while comfortable, stuck to her like her original green military body suit and attracted even more undue attention.

Suddenly Jeremy's face cleared. "Here we are! Its just on the other side of this rock formation...what's this? Cammy, wait there's panel here..."

She wasn't really listening, only passing him and heading to the other side of the rocky outcropping which seemed to seperate that part of the beach from the far larger rest of it. She mildly wondered why, but not enough to stop and truly consider it. She'd seen many sand sculpture and had been amazed by the patience and skill needed to do those works of arts. She'd partially grafted her excitement to Jer, who actually preffered just to go swim, surf, or simply to sit down beneath their parasol and reading a good Stephen King book. But this time, she managed to drag him to see some others.

"Wha...urk!! CAMMY!! NO! WAIT UP!" came his voice from behind, no sounding very much upset for some reason.

A reason she found out about. Mued by the enthusiasm, she had descended down the first wooden stairs she'd found on the other side of the rocks and had even taken few steps before the shout came. But by then it was way too late. She'd seen the beach and had stopped dead, her mind freezing despite the horrendous heat, her heart skipping a beat or two.

The beach itself wasn't abnormal. It was sunny, pleasant. Beach chairs and parasols dotted the place, there were mean, women and children, from the smallest baby to the oldest old grandfather. Some were swimming, others were admiring the works that she'd come to see. In fact, if she it hadn't been for one little detail, the entire beach would have been exactly like all of the rest of it. But there WAS a difference.

Everyone on this part of the beach was naked. Starkly, completely and absolutely utterly fully, darn bloody NAKED!

To think that Cammy was embarassed at this point would be saying little. She was standing at a point which was beyond embarassement, and closer to a mix of coma and catatonia. She stood there without a word, until a man - naked himself - stopped by her with a curious look, looking her up and down.

"Clothes aren't permitted here, ma'am." he said helpfully.

The shook her out of her trance, shook her in fact to the core of her being and made her go through a shift of skin color from tanned pink to tomato-red. She hugged herself instinctively, fled up the stairs, nearly bowling into Jeremy as stood there awkwardly. She fled off the other side of the rocks with him in tow, and then , while resting found FOUR words on the large notice she'd missed reading all by yourself.

SALT SHORES NUDIST BEACH

She read that a few times before shifting her eyes to her husband, who suddenly gave a very terrified rictus and fell back a step, raising his hands placatingly. She knew what look she had. Jeremy had called it the I-will-tear-you-limb-from-limb-with-a-bunch-of-rusty-nails Look. And she was in fact contemplating the use of a good few Cannon Spikes. She looked at him, her tension building, let it attain its zenith.

Bing. Outflow.

"YOU LED ME TO A NUDIST BEACH YOU...YOU...YOU!" she said, at a loss for words, stalking up to him, her hands working. He backed down, incresingly nervous.

"L-love, I d-didn't know that i-it was..." he started. But it was no use, of course. Her temper had come to a blood boil, and there wasn't a single possibility that she was about to calm down. She growled, her intent to pummel him a bit for the embarassement a certainty.

"PERVERT!" she shouted, and lunged at him.

At this Jeremy saw that it was over, that if he stayed there he was about to receive quite a few whacks on the head. Bright boy. Thats why she loved him. He thus decided on the best plan to conteract the situation, indeed, the only one which seemed to work under such extreme situations.

He turned tail and ran as fast as he could.

"COME BACK HERE!" she shouted, giving chase.

If Cammy hadn't been so intent on catching the man she loved - but not exactly for purposes one would call 'loving', she probably would have seen the ridiculous of the situation. Indeed simply the fact that she was chasing a man who was taller and half again her weight would have been enough for her to find the situation ludicrous. She also might have seen the many passerbies staring at her as if she was a petulant child grown too fast, and THAT would indeed have calmed her down.

She also would have noticed steps following her, matching her speed. That alone would have put her on her guard, for her present speed was olympic, and she still wasn't at her maximum.

But she didn't notice. She was today in one of her Fits of Doom, as many SCD had come to recognize her fear. It was a time where her temper became irrational, and fortunately it only happened once every three months - the rest of the time she was only 'pleasantly grumpy, snappy, testy and completely bossy' as Mark Culhen had once quipped.

It was only as she was closing in the distance between she and Jer - although extremely fast himself, he'd never been a match to her - that she came to the adrupt realization that someone was following. She felt a hot sensation at the back of her neck, and because of the shock she stopped dead for a second.

Obviously the one following wasn't expecting such a stop, for there was a weight that slammed into her, sending them both to the floor. Her Fit of Doom forgotten, swallowed by the possibility of danger, Cammy rolled to her feet with great gracefulness, and took a slight defensive stance, assessing the situation. And she stopped when she realized what she was facing. Or, rather, whom.

It was a read-haired man, who was still struggling to his feet, muttering 'ow, ow, ow' incessantly, his movement thetrically exaggerated. He caught sight of her looking at her and grinned. Such goofiness was contained theirein that it probably would have made most people relax just by seeing it. Cammy White, however, was not one who let herself be carried off by something as superficial as a smile.

After all, Kale of the Circle had smiled a lot.

"And what, might I ask, where you doing?" she asked, keeping her tone carefully neutral. The red head scratch his head as he came to his feet, a bit sheepish.

"Well, I guess I was making sure of something." he muttered

"And that was?" He seemed even more uncertain of things now, shifting and squirming under her cold gaze. She gritted her teeth and clenched her hands slightly. "Answer me, sir. I think that would be for the best."

He nodded vigorously. "Okay...well, I chased after you, because..."

"Because?"

"Because you were cute!!!" he said triumphantly.

That was it. Forget Jeremy. THIS guy was tasting her improved Cannon Spike NOW!

Around the same time...

The beach. It was supposed to be a place for enjoyement, a place to find pleasure, happiness, or to simply forget the problems that plague one's existence. It was a place of contentement and smiles, with love and friendship abounding. Truly, at the beach one could find the human race in its best disposition, and that was no wonder. However, there were a few who weren't happy to be there at all.

The woman named Fran Morton was one of those, for she wasn't her for the pleasure of it.

She was on a mission. For the Ribambelle. But mostly for Lady Blue, whom she had served for eight of her twenty-three years. She had been ordered, as others like her had been, to search out Salt Shores and feel if any person would be any threat to the High Ones and to their plans for bringing about the Grand Reaping. And so far she had come upon nothing. Nada.

Her ability allowed her to 'see' people's aura's like a pale with hue around them. The stronger the aura, bigger and brighter was the hue to her. But so far she'd seen nothing of any consequence. Most auras barely showed, even when she strained her sight. Oh, a few had it a little brighter. Some athletes she'd seen had one which was clearly visible. But it wasn't anything compared to her. Yet they'd been good at replenishing her power, which was depleting fast because of her constant searches.

And gradually, it had become to her like a waste of her time and her talents. It was clear that no one was about to show up and be a threat, not in these parts, anyway. These people were all weaklings, and the few who had the barest potential couldn't even harm an acolyte, let alone the High Ones. She was in fact starting to consider just taking the day off, enjoy the beach for one day instead of faking it, when she heard something from the board walk. She looked in curiosity.

There was a woman there, holding up a man, very squarely. A bigger man than she, and without seemingly putting an effort in the act. She was well built and wearing a blue swimsuit like she did, and in fact for a moment she thought that she was a brethren of hers, except she saw she didn't know the face. She was shaking the clearly embarassed man angrily, while another guy - much more athletic, was behind her, obviously trying to calm her down. Weirdos.

But, still, they were weirdos she hadn't seen yet.

Sighing, knowing she'd find nothing of interest, she nonetheless called up her Sight one last time and focused on them.

And she immediately gasped, causing some heads to turn towards her as she stared, wide-eyed, slightly gaping. For although the man being now nervously, goofily trying to get himself out of the mess he was in didn't seem to have a dangerous aura - although something at the back of her head told her that something just wasn't...RIGHT...when it came to the other two...

The other two...

She had seen powerful auras before, but this was...this was powerful. And the worst of it is, it was naturally generated from the core of their being, the energy was part of their life-force, naturally strengthening, perhaps not even at their peak, for the looked young, and she could tell energy could augment until at least late thirities. And that meant trouble.

These two could spell more than their share of problems to the High Ones.

Being always truthful with herself, she found two emotions at the realization. One was anger. That one was understandable. They were threats, dangerous people who, being so naturally powerful, evidently must have linked abilities. Every fiber of her being was loyal to the Ribambelle, knew the risks the entire organization was taking. Damn these two for causing a disruption in their plans!

And yet...

For some reason she felt elated. Although she'd never met any of the two kinds of people, she had heard in mutterings and whispers that there were great warriors roaming the Earth, having been dubbed the World Warriors because of their tendency to take any fight but more so for the fact that they were more than a step above normal humans. Some very great athletes were rumored to be of that great but rather frightening elite group, one of the most famous in America being Ken Masters, of course.

And there were rumoured to be another powerful group, with great mind powers, but those were more myth than anything else. Sure they had similar powers, but only because of the Channeling and the Merge. Powers that came NATURALLY were still hard to believe to her.

And yet these two...so very much above humans she'd met, they really proved that their really were World Warriors, or people much alike. And that, somewhat, elated her, despite the danger they posed. She had always been gleeful at seeing myths proven - either true or false it mattered little to her.

And if she could just come in closer, to listen in their conversation...

She shook off her reverie at the thought, both angry at herself for the momentary lapse of judgement and chagrined that she had wasted so much time. Fran immediately set off for the sea, ignoring all the people walking and runing and surfing and splashing. As soon as she had her feet in the water, she closed her eyes, finding and merging the many lifeforces, the many bits to spark and form the power she sought, the power of Unity. She became the water, siphonning the everlasting live in the ocean to allow her powers to form, to focus in her mind. When she had had enought, she cleared her head and sent a message.

'My lady' she whispered mentally, even those few words a strain to her 'I have found people who are a danger to us.'

She waited her eyes closed, everything around her shutdown, meaningless to her, her only sense the inner mental link she had sent to her mistress. She knew it would take time, but she was patient, for she knew Lady Blue would be greatly interested and inquisitive.

And she was right, as the voice of her feared yet beloved mistress was heard, her voice firm, having much greater power and control. Her voice betrayed irritation and agitation, so clear that she recognized the emotions at once, even though they were only in her mind.

'Speak, acolyte. Do they seem to have intentions regarding the Ribambelle?'

'Not that I may see, Lady. Although it is possible, it seems unlikely from their actions, I must tell you I have just seen them very recently, and did not gather much information about them."

Lady Blue seemed to ponder this before answering. The strain was starting to make it hard to maintain the link. But she knew she just had to maintain it, and so forced herself to do so. At length, the mistress of Blue spoke again.

'Are they of any great danger? Do you deem their power great?'

'Very great, Milady. I may say their auras carry the raw strength of many humans. What is more, it appears natural, unlike our powers. And since they have very fine, athletic build, I would surmised they have trained extensively and possibly have refined their powers.'

'Damn!' the word exploded painfully inside Fran's head, making her wince, and yet she would not let go, for no one broke a link with Lady Blue. Those who had...weren't there to tell the tale 'Very well' she thought to Fran at long last. Follow them. Learn their names and their location. Then I saw send someone to..test one of your so-called threats.'

'Milady' she said painfully 'Your will shall be done. Fare thee well.'

And at that moment the link failed, and she opened her eyes to see that no one had taken notice of her momentary stillness, the people around far two preoccupied with having fun to look at a woman who well might be losing her mind - litterally. She sat down for a moment, recuperating, waiting for the crushing headache to pass. As she recollected her thoughts, she remembered she had a new mission. A difficult one. Follow a pair of very powerful, most probably trained people. Learn their names, where they live right now, and then sit back and enjoy the show.

Right.

So why did she feel like someone had just walked on her grave or something?

Around the same time...

"This was not as we had planned, Lord Rainbow." stated a grave voice on the phone.

"Nothing is ever perfect in this world." the head of Ribambelle retorted. "You of all people should know this by now. Despite the fact that there are threats in our targetted city, we haven't reached our worst-case scenario yet."

"And what, pray tell, could be worse than this."

Rainbow sighed despite himself, but managed to keep his rising irritation out of his voice. Sometimes he wondered how Blue had advanced to her position, and then remembered she had inherited it from her own mother, who had been a powerful member and had actually seen the disaster of fifty years ago. The Lady was a very charismatic woman, very beautiful in her own way, and intelligent enough. But she was also so very narrow-minded, and this proved it in all the possible colors.

"Our worst-case scenario, my dear, " said Rainbow, trying to be patient with her "Would be that they learned of anything queer. If they know not of our presence, then we can proceed to work to elude their later suspiscions, or work to drive them out of the city on some wild-goose chase."

"I...see." said the woman. There was some kind of hesitation in her voice that he definitely did not like, which alarmed him even. He found himself gripping the phone, which groaned under the pressure of his hand as his Merged Power surged through him.

"Lady, I did not much like the sound of your voice just now." he stated tensely. "Is there something which I should know about."

"Actually milord, there is." she hesitated. "When I learned that there were some threats to our plans, I ordered the one who had discovered them to follow them..."

He gritted his teeth slightly. "And...?" he said, even more tensely, for he felt that it wasn't the end of the bad news by far.

"And....I ordered that another test the strength of the so-called threats."

Rainbow put his hand on the mouthpiece of the phone, looking around his luxurious private room and launched into a very colourful series of expletives. He was angry, something which did not happen to him very often, but which was a frightening spectacle to behold by any given means. Had Lady Blue been in the room at the moment she was delivering her little confession, she would have come to serious harm for her incredible stupidity.

As it was, he managed to calm himself, and to let reason return, but the anger was still there, as well as a gushing, broken dam which deversed disappointement upon his inner self. He had expected better common sense from an High One, and his expectations had been, quite effectively, dashed.

He heaved a heartfelt sigh, and keeping his voice calm, spoke again. "You do realize that by doing this, you are therefore alerting whoever they are of our presence?

Her answer was quick. "I though, milord, that it would be better that we understand the nature of those threats and their capabilities."

"We wouldn't be even needing this if they did not know that something strange was bound to happen." he snapped despite himself.

"And risk our entire operation in case they stumbled upon it?" she snapped right back. "Better to have a danger we know about than to be ever in doubt."

Even Rainbow couldn't deny the logic which was lying in that. Finding about them had been his plan himself, and was common sense. He too would have wished to keep an eye on them, but not to challenge them openly as soon as they were going to be. If they were indeed World Warriors, they might have been much better left alone, making Lady Blue's order rash and unnecessary.

Oh, well. It was no use ranting over spilled milk. The best thing he had to hope fore was that the mop did its work well enough. Of course, since he had always been the man who had bailed people like Blue out, the head of Ribambelle couldn't help but feel tired and angry still. He sighed in exasperation.

"I hope you have given the man orders of discretion?" he asked hopefully.

"Of course! He will have special powers to use, of course - or else the test would be moot - but no indication that he is affiliated to us."

He sighed in relief. At least there was that. With this, their identity would be safe for a while, perhaps long enough for them to perform the Grand Reaping. Unless something unexpected happened. And he hoped that nothing of the sort would happen.

"Very well. Keep me posted. And do not fail me." he hang up at that.

He leaned back on his fine leater seat, fixing the far wall of panneled wood with a gaze which was unseeing. More problems. Just exactly what he most didn't need right now. True, there was no true problem AS YET, but if there would be, he was uncertain of what would happen, for he knew the organization, although once powerful, had lost muchof its greatness, much more than even the High Ones knew. In fact, it was, at least to him, that if they failed here, it might well be the end of everything their forefathers had built. And yet the other High Ones seemed sincerely oblivious, acting like the Ribambelle had the possibility to before the disaster. And he seemed to be the only one who could save it yet.

It was enough to despair.

But he could not afford to. Had never let himself despair. It wasn't in either his blood and his upbringing. To him, despair was weakness. ACTION and DECISIONS were all that ever counted.

He had been raised that way by his own parents, who, unlike the rest of the High Ones of their time, didn't believe on birthright or isolationism. If the one then named Gregory Romano wanted to become someone as important as they, he had to learn, to understand and to work. They didn't dote on him, never gave him a chance. He had to actually EARN what he got. And he had. He'd gone into the world, watched, learned, and become someone in his own right. But at a certain cost...

His journeys through the world had opened him to the fact that there were people and organizations which might easily crush the world of the Ribambelle if they knew they existed. Each for their own reasons and purposes. He had kept track of the organizations with the kind of underworldy and queer power to crush it.

The Circle. Shadowlaw. The Brotherhood. The Steel League. And those were only the most terryfying of the organizations which might find an unhealthy interest in the kind of power the Ribambelle's members possessed. There were so many others. And within each organizations there stood fearsome individuals, like Gill, the Iron Blade, or worse of worse, the man know only as Bison.

To know the true power of World Warriors, and the effect it might have - effect the blind and proud other High Ones simply could not see - was a high burden, but it was one he had long grown accustomed too. He had come to like the Ribambelle and the potential and strength that it once had appealed to him. He genuinely believed that it was meant to continue on, and so he had risen to his exalted position with just that purpose in mind.

A rebirth.

And for this he had planned long and hard, and waited expectantly for the right moment to do the famed Grand Reaping. He had sacrificed money, time and people, not caring what happened as long as the end result was there in the end. HE'd made deal that the other High Ones knew nothing about to strengthen their position that they so foolishly though impregnable. And after all these years of labor, after all that scheming and planning and waiting, it was finally the time for a reward of some kind.

He had earned a little something. His people deserved glory and true power again. He would let no one stand in his way.

No one.

Not even World Warriors.

For it was the Ribambelle's destiny. And he had every intention of being the one to fulfill it.

That evening...

'I hope she's not going to be pouting when I come back.'

That single thought nagged Jeremy as he made his way through the backstreets of Salt Shores, taking shortcuts back to the hotel that most others wouldn't have dared to. Not that he found the place to be dangerous. After Portland, Sydney, London, Washington and Richmond and so many other greater, more violent cities, he'd found the places strangely empty. Not that he put much attention on those right now, his thoughts rather focused on smoothing and soothing the still edgy temper of his wife.

The nudist beach had been a hard blow, and although it really hadn't been his fault - HOW was he supposed to know about it anyway?!? - she had had a slight sore against him, compounded by the encounter with the probably whacked man known as Brad Haron, and finalized by two hours of rain had gotten the result of a very irked, pouting Cammy White.

Jeremy loved his wife. Loved her with all of his heart, and had litterally risked his life for her, more than once and in more than one way. And he also knew that the feeling was returned, that she loved him just as much, that this pouting fit wasn't anything but a passing thing that would soon be gone.

But it did not stop the fact that he was nervous everytime she was in a bad mood, and rightly so. During his relationship with the braided woman, he'd had the occasion to know that love did not mean lack of pain, as he received quite a few whacks sometimes. Not dangerous ones. Merely slight pats to a guy like him. But it still made him nervous.

He sighed. He supposed this was one of the many pleasures of being a couple, the guy getting whacked from time to time.

He grinned as he passed below a street light. Not that it REALLY mattered really. Cammy always apologized afterward, and sometimes even found very...interesting...ways to make up for her ill-temper. Not exactly what he'd call imaginative, as far as these ways were concerned, but definitely pleasant.

There was a shift in the air, and underlying, electrifying current which reached senses trained and honed beyond normal human.

Pleasant - if presumably mature - thoughts flitted out of Jeremy's mind as his many years of training and his incredible reflexex kicked in at the very moment the alarm bells sound in his head. 'Danger above, MOVE' said his mind, and his body did without the slightest hesitation.

And because of this, the kick which he'd have received to the head passed right ober him as he ducked instinctively, letting go of the fresh muffins he'd bought to mellow Cammy further and took the Stormfang stance out of long years of street fights and underground warfare, his eyes cold and his face fixed upon the figure which landed close to him, turning to face him.

The man - the shape and the way he stood told him that much, was all garbed in black, the only thing visible being two wide-staring eyes, which looked at him in a way which was colder than death, unrelenting, fierce. An assassin's look. He saw that under each forearm, two long, wickedly shaped blades were attached, with a few very small notches on them. Used. An expert. But then Jeremy could have seen that without even trying hard, just from the practiced stance his opponent took.

"Okay." he said with a grim smile "I take it you're not a tourist."

The only answer he received was a growl, and then the man lunged forward, swiping his arms quickly. The SCD stepped back, giving way to avoid the blades, which obviously had more strength to them then they seemed to have. As he backed off, he analysed the man.

'He's quick, deft, confident, possessing not a little bit of skill. Ninjitsu style, with some kick-boxing and a bit of savate. He's fought his share, for he guards himself well even as he attacks. And the way his blades vibrate tell me what I already surmised - he's a chi user. But the chi I feel seems so...fragmented.'

Still, as good as the man was, he wasn't perfect to Jeremy. He could see holes in his defense, misteps that would be costly if he used them. And that was exactly what he intended to do.

He grabbed the bladed arm, thrusting it to the side, opening the defenses and delivering a savage blow to his opponent's head, following up with a kick to his stomach which the man had no hope of blocking. He jumped as the man was flung back, and pitched him backward over twenty feet with his mid-air strike. His adversary grunted angrily as it hit the ground, rolling back to his feet.

Jeremy smirked. "You lack skill. Test your strength on someone else and leave me be if you wish to be whole yet."

The man lunged at him again, and this time the grey-eyed fighter just dodged. He jumped, ducked, twisted sideway, using his highly attuned reflexes, his instinct and his personal reserves of chi to predict the swipes' timing and move away a fraction of a second before any shot hit. Time and time again he did so, even though the swipes became faster attacks, the blows whispering their cutting, rending tune and hair next to him.

More then once he went well-nigh near to decapitaion, but he didn't allow this to bother him. His mind was now gone, focused inwardly, banishing fear and uncertainty and merging body and mind so that he wasn't simply a trained human, but a true WEAPON. He was simply untouchable to someone of the assassin's level. Ibuki would certainly have scoffed at seeing such a complete - if strange - opponent.

He for one was secretely enjoying himself. From time to time he needed these kinds of encounters to keep himself on his toes. Still, it was all strange, why would an assassin come after him here? His style did not match Shadowlaw's the Circle's or any of the great organizations he knew. So what was it here?

After a good while, the moves became more sluggish, and he easily cast his opponent aside with a few well-placed hooks, given quickly and on the same spot - his chin. The man fell back, his chest heaving, his limbs trembling. Jeremy could feel him easily. Awe and fear, anger and shame. He had used all of his speed and it had done nothing! Indeed the SCD was barely breathing harder, as he had kept up his energy as he had dodged the attacks.

He looked down for a moment, spotted the muffins, which had been squashed and mangled into an unedible mess by the little byplay they had engaged in.

"Great!" he growled, giving his opponent an irked look "Now its gonna take even LONGER for Cammy to calm down! Arrg!" he stomped his foot in irritation.

As in answer, the black-clothed man put his hands in front of him, and different hues gathered about his forearms. Blue, green, yellow and even some red merged, flaring the strange chi. Jeremy shrugged, summoning his own, which came quickly, stronger. He was ready long before his opponent, but couldn't fire first, willing to let him take that shot.

The man didn't wait for it, his energy gathered and he put his hands out, and with a great shout of 'Energy Blast' - what a lame name! Jeremy thought - a round ball of chi raced towards him. He put his arm just in fromn of it, and uttered words he was now well-used to.

"FLARE TALON!!"

His talon-like flow of chi disrupted the ball, and slammed into the surprised opponent, who fell flat on his back and struggled to get up. Barely breathing hard because of the chi drain, Jeremy jogged to him, avoiding his blade. He looked down at him.

"Next time, gauge your opponent before trying to kill him." he advised, and gave him a shot to the head. The man grunted one last time, and then went limp.

Jeremy crouched next to him, feeling for the strange, sluggish chi. There it was. He frowned. It seemed like a mix of different spirits. Each seemed to be little more than a normal human level, but it was bonded together in such a way that it gave a greater-than-normal strength. It seemed like...a fake power. A false one. If he could believe it, a STOLEN one.

Was it possible?

And if it was, how does it happpen and who would use such means?

And most importantly, why did THEY just obviously try to kill him? He didn't have the answers.

But he certainly was going to find out. Without pause, he raised himself up and walked in search of the nearest phone booth, to call the police. At least, he reflected, he'd have this little problem to sway Cammy when he came back to their room.

Ten minutes later...

Fran Morton was running. She had just seen the man she had followed beat one of the best assassin that Lady Blue had with great ease. She had been shocked when she had seen the power the man had summoned and the sheer stamina that he had showed during the fight, dodging the blades. It was indeed enough to scare her. But the grey-eyed man wasn't the reason she ran.

Clack. Clack. Clack. Steps behind her. Sharp, clicking steps. Behind her. Closer. Unpressed. No matter how hard she ran, always behind her.

Her heart was pounding as she ran through the darkened streets, illuminated only by a few street lamps. She was running farther and farther from civilization, from the people frolicking and walking and talking away near the hotels, in the plazas, on the beach. She knew that was the pupose of the one behind her. And she had felt enough to know his intent with her. It was as clear as daylight.

To kill her.

She tried to pour on the speed, the darkened places - old and abandoned now, from the little she could judge - whizzed by, as she became more and more desperate, increasingly fearful and disoriented, her mind slowly unraveling. She hadn't the strength to call for help anymore, and her stupid pride had forbidden her to do so when it was still time.

Clack. Clack. Clack.

Still behind her. Always behind her! Why? What had she done that warranted such...such a terrifying pursuit.

"Why?" she whispered "Why do you want to kill me?"

She didn't think she'd get any answer. In fact, she didn't think that she'd been heard at all. But it appeared she had, for the clacking steps stopped, and for a clear moment, silence reigned in the darkness.

And then he laughed.

She did not know exactly what this laugh really contained. Sorrow, anger, bitterness? She couldn't really tell, try as she might. But it terrorized her, froze her blood, for the laugh was unending and twisted and dark, the kind of laugh one hears in her nightmares, and awakes, certain something horrible is in the room, only to find in relief that it is not true. That was what it to her, that laugh. A nightmare made flesh. She covered her hears as the laugh continued, screaming voicelessly, begging for it to stop.

And as she ran, it did just that. It stopped suddenly, leaving a great void of silence which was almost as terrifying. She stopped, gasped for breath, trying to find some inkling of her powers, but unable to concentrate.

She had to escape. Escape. Escape!!! But where? She hoped the man was gone, but something within her, something primal and yet far wiser than it seemed, told her that it wasn't the case. She believed it. Even if the strange sense hadn't told her so, she would have believed the man was still there. Watching her. The laugh had been more than enough to prove her that. She shivered. And then, as her breathing returned, she heard them again. Clack, clack, clack! Close, too close!

She ran, but from behind an hand shot, encircling her waist, while another clamped itself around her throat. She struggled like a snared rabbit, but just like a snared rabbit it was impossible for her to escape the powerful grip.

"Not bad. Not bad at all." a soft, lethal whisper, in her ear "You were a good hunt. Very entertaining. Now my dear...please...scream..."

And as the pain started coursing through her, she did. Agonizing screams.

And in the darkness, no one heard her except him, until all was darkness, and she was no more.

One hour later...

Brad Harmon took a swig from his bottle and looked over the still-busy streets. So many people. So filled with life, so unaware of anything beyond thoese lives, so blissfully innocent. It was a sight which greeted him every day of his life, for many many years. Normally, the sight was enough to cheer him. However, tonight his facade of cheerfulness was almost crumbled up by deep thoughts.

These two he had encountered. They seemed familiar. But from where?

He'd been lucky with the woman, at any rate. She'd been ready to tear his head of for petting her without permission - ah, if only it had been something as ridiculous, outrageous and inconsequential as that! - and actually might have been one to do it! But then the man - boyfriend? Husband? He wasn't sure of that one yet, but the bond was deep - had come back from his own run and calmed her down.

The man...

Yes, it was the man who seemed familiar! He'd seen that face before, or at least some one who woresomething quite similar. It hadn't been recently, though. No, not a recent encounter at all.

He sighed, letting his goofy facade drop for a few instants. Ribambelle was on the move again, preparing for the Grand Reaping, hoping to regain their lost power. This simply couldn't be allowed to happen. The world had enough problem right now without people like this adding to them.

He could remember the last time there had been a Grand Reaping. The lifeless body. The feeling of death all around. Years before anything grew again. It was forgotten by most now, but very clear to him. And fifty years ago, it could have happened again. Almost did, in fact, the process having been stopped by a group of determined people led by...he stopped, his eyes widening.

Then he grinned, really goofily this time.

James STORM. Jeremy STORM. No wonder there were ressemblances. From the age James must have now, and Jeremy's now, the young man must be his grandson or something. Whatever, it mean that the kid was of his blood, and that wasn't half-bad. In fact, it was darn good.

He starterd to laugh merrily. Fifty years ago a Storm threw Ribambelle down. And now, fifty years having past, a new one was going to help in blasting it to ashes!

Ironic, in a way. But so very fitting.

Brad knew he had to see that couple again. To talk to them. Tell them what was afoot in this town. They'd have to help him.

They just had too. Or the entire city of Salt shores might become a new deadzone, and Ribambelle would be a threat to the world again.