Chapter One
by Sarcastro

As Gaal's foot stepped over the threshold of the doorway and onto the wooden floor within he knew that this place was trouble. His eye quickly scanned the inside of the bar. The place was nothing more than another rat's nest in this pale reflection of what was once a city. He could make out a few patrons sitting at the round tables, their faces barely lit by the tacky neon decorations that were fitted on the walls and ceiling. D-bees, humans, and who knows what else. At least the place didn't discriminate.

He sniffed the air tentatively and was taken aback by the stench of one of the occupants sitting close to the door. He turned to make a snide remark and then decided against it upon seeing the size of the huge ogre. By the looks of the tattoos covering his arms and chest Gaal could tell he didn't want to mess with the big fella. A factor in this decision, besides his obvious lack in strength, was that he had heard disturbing rumors of some new kinda magic in the field. Something that had to do with tattoos that came alive with a thought. Seemed to be originating from Atlantis. Gaal had never been to Atlantis before but would have jumped at the chance. Supposedly big bucks to be found, all manner of treasure and rare items from other dimensions.

He walked further in looking for his comrade. He spotted him sitting in the far corner by a Pre-Rifts juke box. Gaal headed on over and took a seat. As he made himself comfortably he glanced to his left and saw about two tables down, several Gatherers knocking down a few drinks and bantering with each other. Gaal unconsciously felt for his wallet forgetting that it was safe and sound within a dimensional pocket in his trench coat. "Let one of the stinking cockroaches try and steal from me and he'll find nothing but a paper clip and maybe some string," he thought. He kept a close eye on that group anyway, just in case. He then put most of his attention on his cohort across the table.

The man who Gaal had come to meet was a shifter by the name of Frank. He was a well traveled guy who had seen his share of action in this dimension as well as several others. He and Gaal had met in the city of Center on Phase World where they both found themselves facing a rather angry group of human hating Kreeghor. Luckily they had both managed to see another day thanks to Gaal's dimensional magic. Hence forth they had been not friends really, but more like good associates. Beyond his name and magical occupation Gaal knew precious little about this man. Of course the same could be said of how much Frank knew about Gaal, besides the fact that he wasn't going to make a career as a model.

"You're late Gaal," Frank said, "You were supposed to be here half an hour ago. Don't ya keep track of the time?"

"What exactly is time Frank? No wait, don't answer. I'll tell ya. Time is nothing more than an abstract idea. It only exists in our minds."

"That's sounds awfully strange coming from a temporal wizard."

"Hey Frank nobody ever said I was one who followed the mainstream. I go down my own road. I walk to the beat of a different drummer."

The waiter waltzed on over right about then. "What will you be having today buddy?" addressing Gaal.

"I'll have a zima with a shot of mountain dew"

"You got it".

"So Frank what;s been happening with you?"

"Well Gaal nothing good I'll tell ya that. After our last meeting in England I took a little side trip to the Three Galaxies for some R and R. While I was there I happened to pick up this little doozy," as he said that he reached into his back pack and pulled out something. As the object came into the light Gaal saw that it was a large jewel about the size of Frank's fist. It had a reddish tinge to it and it was radiating magical energy. Gaal could feel the power flowing through his bones, this thing was no cracker jack prize.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the bar.....