haven
	It is midnight in New York, a moment of stillness in a city that never sleeps.  It is too silent for your comfort, of course, someone on the run, like you, never accepts the quiet for what it is, and right you shouldn't.  Your hand curls around the cool barrel of the weapon cradled in your shoulder holster--the hateful thing which is now your best security--but you do not draw down.  You have been asked to come here today.  The invitation, in block lettering on a 3 X 5 index card, burns a hole in the back pocket of your jeans.  I should have destroyed it, you think, but you can't do that now.  You glance around the dark, damp alley and wonder if you should leave.    Then, a wall opens up, and warm, friendly light spills onto the cold concrete.  You can hear voices inside, laughing, talking, like normal people, though, you will soon learn, most of them aren't.  A slim, lithe hand appears from the hidden door.  Bathed in light, it appears golden, but the person is belongs to is no angel.  A mere mortal, she glances out and smiles.  Her honey brown hair is pulled back in a short pony tail, and her green-flecked brown eyes sparkle.  She is not beautiful in any precise way, but niether is she average:  young, smart-looking, a little striking.  She murmurs a hello, and waves you inside.    Welcome to Haven.  I may offer only one word of caution:  though this place is a safe house for any and all who must take refuge from society, we have been infiltrated before and it is likely we will be again.  Share only the knowledge that will keep us all safe, and leave as soon as you feel you can.  The next faces you greet may be those of the people chasing you.
		enter here