Fore word/warning:

Hello, and welcome to my story.  This is an original story I have created that is 
sorta of a prequel to my Terrible Things to Waste story (which at the moment I'm revising)
This story sets the stage for the next, so don't be mad if you don't see your favorite
fuku wearing heroines coming into the fray right away.
If you have any questions just send them to bdaly@ns.cois.com. Enjoy!


Timelords

Part 4: The Lone Wolf



	The smell of smoke and ash filled Tracer's nose as he sat in
the saloon next to a soot covered window.  Tracer could barely
make out the primitive skyscapers and office buildings in the
distance through that window.  Tracer studied the saloon as he
took a sip of his watered-down whisky.  The architecture was
obviously rashly put together with ill fitted boards and
assorted mismatched decor.  Just off to Tracer's side a group of
dirty faced miners complained loudly about poor working
conditions and low wages.  Suddenly one voice called the other's
attention saying that the miners of Chicago deserved better for
all their hard work and if the company wouldn't give them
better, then the company didn't deserve anything.  The radical
miner argued further that the company ran them like slaves and
he thought they fought a bloody civil war thirty years ago to
rid themselves of it.  With all the passionate rantings the
miner gave made Tracer pondered if this person was a Society
member or just another radical miner of the time.  Tracer's
attention was brought back to the the very audible grumblings of
the other miners.  

	The other miners argued that if they striked, the company would
find replacement workers, and they would lose their jobs.  Or
another possible scenario could be if the company went under
because they striked, they would still lose their jobs.   They
had dug themselves into an inescapable  hole.  

	Even with an unanomous arguement against him, the radical miner
offered to help make the strike work.  He proposed they meet
with some of his friends in Houston, Texas.  The miners
responded surprised and said that the place was just a
shantytown in a swamp.  

	"Not now,"  retorted the radical miner quickly before
responding in a low tone, "Later."

	Even though the miners gave each other confused looks, Tracer
knew exactly what this stranger meant.  Tracer was certain this
man was a Society memeber and he suddenly felt the instinct to
attack the man, but resisted.  It had been a few weeks after he
had discovered the sea of secret information the Counsule had
hidden in their own personal archive.  The shock had worn away
by now but Tracer decided to lay low for awhile away from the
Community.  During his hiatus Tracer did some thinking and
decided he was going to find out about this Society alone. 
Tracer had gone to spots where he knew Society members hung
around from time to time putting him in his present location. 
The last thing he wanted was attention from the Counsule.

	The radical miner told them he would take them to meet his
friends at a place called El Mercado, or the marketplace, and
maybe even get recruited into his group.  Tracer had heard
enough as he left the shabby saloon with new knowledge as to the
Society's doings.  The disappointed radical miner glanced at the
dark haired timelord leaving through the poorly built doors of
the saloon, and a satisfied smile could almost be seen on his
soot smudged mouth. 



	Tracer walked down the alleyways of the Community once more,
but with a little more caution put into each step.  Being in the
dirt of Chicago annoyed him, but being in the Community made him
uncomfortable.  Tracer had new information on the Society
through the eaves dropping of the Society member he did earlier.
 From what he could fathom, they were trying to recruit the
others and gave potential recruitees the location and time of a
meeting.   Now with a location where at least some Society
members would be, he could make an appearance, but he couldn't
risk being identified.  Tracer headed towards the Headquarters
of the timelords as he pondered his plan further, keeping from
looking at the Counsule Building looming over Headquaters. 
Tracer went to the blank wall and voice from a comlink greeted
him;

	"Please identify."  the voice of the female seemed to be quite
friendly, yet stern.

	Tracer responded distractedly, "Timelord Tracer, 10578."

	The next response was an outline of a door framed appeared
opening up to Tracer.  Tracer walked into the spacious
Headquarters as compared to the Counsule Building's small
tunnels, obviously in the simple style of late 20th century
Earth architecture where one could see the muti-levels from the
main entrance.  Tracer walked towards his destination near on
the other side of the main entrance, the technology supply
division, or what all the timelords called, 'the armory.'  This
was were all the newest devices and weapons that the timelords
could use were kept there ready to use.  Tracer entered the
division through another set of doors and approached a man
behind a steel cage window with a small slit at the bottom just
big enough for a medium sized item to go through.   Tracer
approached the man behind the cage.

	"Did you get my order?" Tracer asking in a rather distant tone.

	The man looked at him questionably and looked at a screen which
was floating next to him, "Sorry but I will need a name."

	Tracer now annoyed once again rattled off his identification,
but the once more asked to do it again citing that the audio
wasn't picked up.  Tracer now in an even more annoyed tone
rattled off his identification one last time.

	The man nervously grinned as he turned around making his way to
the back, "I'm sorry but these damn machines haven't been
updated in a long time.  Infact just about everything around
here needs updating."

	The man came to a square metal panel in the wall which had a
pad with buttons on the right of it.  The man pushed a sequence
of buttons and waited and then hit it a few times and the metal
panel opened up to reveal a small package wrapped in a type of
plastic covering.  The man brought the package over to Tracer
who was looking around cautiously as he took it and hastily
left.  When Tracer was making his way down one of the main
alleyways a hand grabbed him and pulled him into one the
deserted narrow side alleyways.  Tracer immediately found
himself face to face with a very dirty, very nervous, and very
mad Giro.

	"I should kill you right now!"  he exclaimed under hoarse
whispers, "I came home one day and I found a whole troop of
timelords around my complex.  I'm now officially excommunicated
and wanted dead thanks to you."

	"Hey I'm sorry I didn't mean for you to get caught."  Tracer
was taken off guard by him but still was rather distant in his
tone.

	"Sorry doesn't cut it.  I told you five minutes, but you had to
stay longer and let me take the fall."  Giro was holding Tracer
against the filthy, damp alley wall, "Do you know how it feels
to sneak around in the filth of the Community hiding from search
patrols of timelords?  Do you?"

	"Why didn't you just tell them you were not in the Community, I
mean the temporal network over the Community would prove that." 
Tracer offered.

	"Oh that'll come over well, seeing that if someone who could
break into the heavily protected files couldn't also find a way
to alter the records of the comings and goings through the
network."  Giro reprimanded harshly, "It doesn't work that way! 
I'm already guilty!"

	Suddenly sounds were heard from around the corner nearby and
Giro let go of Tracer.  Giro looked in the vicinity of the noise
nervously and started to run off in the opposite direction. 
Giro had a few parting words for Tracer as he ran, "Pray that I
don't run into you outside the Community."



	Tracer entered his quarters wearily as he saw his sword lying
next to his desk as it was the last time he was there.  Tracer
threw the plastic wrapped package on his desk and turned on Avex
as he plopped down in his antigrav chair. 

	"It has been awhile Tracer.  There have been several messages
from the Counsule wanting to speak with you."  the AI informed.

	"Yeah, yeah, yeah."  all the traveling Tracer had already done
made him feel weak, but hearing the news that the Counsule
wanted him made him feel sick.

	Tracer got up from the chair and ripped the plastic wrapped
cover off the package.   Tracer took out several items and
Tracer thought about his game plan.  Tracer was going to the
location of the recruiting meeting he got from the Society
members earlier.  He would gain access posing as a recruitee. 
To do that he needed a disguise thus the reason for the package,
a false identity kit.  Then Tracer was going to get all the
information he could and maybe even infiltrating further into
the Society.  Then something occurred to Tracer.

	"Avex call up the image of the aged Xendyte and photocopy it." 
Tracer commanded as he  laid out the items from the kit onto his
desk.  

	One of the items fell off the side and Tracer picked it up and
saw the sword.  Picking the sword up he told himself, "I have a
feeling I might need you."



	"Back to this city again."  a white haired but oddly young
looking man whispered to himself as he walked across the dark
and empty parking lot outside an old rundown warehouse.

	The white haired man looked towards the bright lights of the
tall buildings towering over the decaying warehouse, that stood
out against the humid Houston night.  It was a sight he was
familiar with.  The white haired man shook his head as he
grumbled, "Is the Society fond of 20th century Houston or
something?"

	The white haired man adjusted his white jacket and gray pants, 
and rubbed his clean shaven face.  He finally checked his
brilliant sword with a crystal blade and wooden hilt hung from
the side of his pants completing his proper image.  As the man
got closer to the run down warehouse he saw the faded name
painted on the wall, El Mercado.  As the man got to the entrance
of the El Mercado he pulled the skin on his face a little.

  	'Man I hope this disguise holds up or they'll know who I am,'
he thought.  The white haired man walked further, but ran into
an invisible barrier.  A man in heavy armor carrying a large gun
appeared in front of him on the other side of the barrier.  

	"Who are you?"  the guard asked in a suspicious tone.

	The white haired man paused a moment and finally in a heavy
accent he answered innocently, "I kompt fuer dee Zoziety
recruiting meetung."

	The guard's eyebrow raised, and the white haired man
reverberated, "I vas em-s Deustchland, ahh, Germany recently."

	"It was how do you say, meinen bruder ga-borts-tag, ahhh."  he
paused to translate in his head and went on, "My brother's
birthday.  He has become zehr old and they may always be his
last." 

	The white haired man gave out long and deep laughs, thinking
himself clever.

	The guard looked at him for a minute and smiled as he reached
over to the wall on his left and pushed a switch.  With that the
invisible barrier disappeared and let the white haired man
through. 

	"Danskst du."  the white haired man said passing the guard.

	'This was too easy,' the man thought to himself as he passed a
few more guards dressed in heavy armor, 'Or maybe they just are
going to keep a close eye on us.'

	The white haired man made his way through the inside of the
warehouse which was busy with activity.   The guards were
walking up and down the catwalk keeping an ever vigilant eye on
the group standing in the middle of the open warehouse.  The
group composed of about 20 people of various physical features
and wardrobe, and all were chatting nervously as they kept their
eyes on the guards on the catwalks above.  Only one didn't
interact with the rest, he wore a large overcoat that covered
entire upper body easily and just scanned his surroundings
intricately, Tracer felt that this man was acting too much like
a timelord plant.  He gave all the signs of one, and even
following some timelord procedures; not too much interaction,
cautious, and scoping the area.   To Tracer he was the
suspicious one.

	When the white haired man finally made his way to the group and
settled in, a group of guards escorted them into one of the
offices on the main floor.  In the spacious office a blonde
woman was standing in front of an old and rotting desk that was
pushed against the wall looking over what looked to be blue
prints of some kind.  She had long hair that was tied in a pony
tail behind her head, was also dressed in armor but it was
lighter than the guards lurking in the warehouse, her wide eyes
were a dark blue, and oddly she was wearing a big smile on her
face in comparison to the serious expressions on the guards
faces.  The white haired man reached in his jacket pocket and
took out a photo of a blonde haired girl with short hair but
looked uncannily like the woman sitting on the desk in front of
him.   The only difference was the face, in the photo she looked
very friendly and cheerful, and the face in front of him was
also cheerful and friendly, yet it had signs of weariness and
stress upon it.  All in all though the woman struck the white
haired man as very beautiful and attractive.  The man shook his
head at the thought, 'Come on Tracer you're here to capture and
terminate her. There is no gain in having an infatuation with
her.'

	The blonde woman smiled at the group and spoke cheerfully,
"Hello everyone!  It's nice to know that others feel the
Counsule's corruptness has proven them inefficient leaders.  I
thank you for coming."

	Her cheery attitude drained to a serious one, "Now let's get
down to business.  All of us have a reason for being here." 

	Then her serious attitude changed to one darker and pained as
she spoke slowly, "Me. . . my family and I were ambushed and
destroyed by a group those blood thirsty timelords."

	Xendyte paused as she caught herself staring intently at her
clenched fists.  She quickly put her hands in her lap and
immediately smiled to hide the fact that she was blushing, "Um,
and since the Society tried valiantly to save their lives, I am
forever indebted to them."

	The entire group was taken back by such an unusual and
emotional telling of her story.  The white haired man's eyes
softened, 'Her story seems so different from her bio for some
reason.'

	For once Tracer saw Xendyte's pain, and she wasn't just another
target, she was a living being who was lonely, wanting to fill
her emptiness, like his. . . .

	'No, Tracer.  There's no room for sympathy for the Society. 
They are trying to rebel against the order the Counsule keeps.' 
he thought to himself.

	Then Tracer remembered sea of secret files telling of all the
information and technology the Counsule was hoarding. 
Information and technology that would help out the people
suffering in the Community.  Next he remembered all the
injustice they were spreading.  Finally he remembered the short
communique from Nairb;

	"Tracer must never know what happened what happened to his
father.  For it's in our best interest."

	'In their best interest, not mine.'  Tracer thought.  Then
Tracer was left facing a question he didn't want to face, what
was he fighting for?

	Tracer's thought process was interrupted by the questioning
voiced of a woman, "You!  What's your name?" 

	The blonde woman was pointing at the white haired man who
coughed nervously, "My name. . . is, uh iz Hans."  

	The blonde woman looked at him curiously and then gave a
playful smile, entertained by his heavy accent, "Now that we've
all been introduced, let me show you all around."

	The guards helped in the movement of the crowd of recruitees. 
The blonde woman was leading the group across the main area
towards a set of stairs leading into the large basement area
below.  

	From a catwalk overlooking the group on the floor was a huge
metal monstrosity.  The monstrosity had shoulders flaring out
passed the head, a left hand controlling a claw, the other
controlling a devastating charge cannon that clung to its arm,
and a face seen only through a thick visor.  The face in the
visor glanced off into the shadows nearby;

	"General, the recruits are going to see the machine.  What's
our next move?"  the face asked the darkness formally.

	"We wait for the timelords to make their next move,"  a voice
from the shadows replied, "One is probably amongst the recruits.
" 

	A red aura came from the shadows as the voice paused and
noticed something, "That sword, on that recruit, its familiar. .
. its. ."

	The monstrosity searched the group and found a white haired man
with a sword hanging from his belt.  The voice trailed off as it
pondered the familiarity of the sword and called out to the
metal suit, "Malance bring that recruit to me.  I must find out
how he got possession of that sword."


All characters are owned and copyrighted (c) the brian 1997.


I see you've made it this far, congradulations!  Anyway 
send comments to bdaly@ns.cois.com.  Have a nice life!