Hello!  Let me welcome you to the Traveller's Saga.

I noticed that most of you folks have been visiting this page more
often than the story with the actual content.  So, in efforts to
give my audience what they want, here's a little preview of what
this story is about and hopefully pique your interest in the other
story on my site.

Let me warn you right now that this story is by no means
cheery nor nice.  It's got dark themes and gritty descriptions
and lots of little in-jokes that you probably wouldn't be able
to get.  <grin>  For all those things, that's why its
rated PG-13.

Also, please don't let the lack of content of this story prevent
you from reading the next story Terrible Things to Waste at:
http://pweb.netcom.com/~bastion/tttw.htm
I promise you that you don't need this story to enjoy the next.  

And any comments are great.  Just send them to bastion@ix.netcom.com

Anyho... here's the preview, enjoy!


Timelords

Part 1: The Hunt Begins

	The sweltering heat of a Houston night didn't phase the party
goers as they stumbled from club to club guided by the gaudy
lights.  The whole scene had an aged feel.  The ancient trees
lurched forth from the sidewalks running along the wide street. 
Once proud homes now fall apart from neglect.  

	Fitsroy cared little for such things, what he needed was a
drink.  No, make that several drinks.   At least the melancoly
that hung over this city gave the man some consolation.  But
that's where it stopped.  This city and its dirt inundated him;
the streets, the vehicles, the buildings, the people, even the
air threatened to stain his pure white wool jacket and creased
trousers.

	It amazed him that he even followed orders.  From her of all
people.  Hell, he had a great deal more seniority than her and
the "General" passed _him_ over for _her_.  What did she offer
that he didn't?  Of course, several things came to mind.     

	Fitsroy avoided the deep cracks in the sidewalk as he continued
on in thought.  Oh he needed that drink now and maybe even
indugle himself in the special services that the women here
offered with little coercion.  They were always impressed by the
little trinkets he had gotten from places that were beyond their
mental capacity.  Such simple animals they were.  

	Turning the corner, the clean cut gentleman descended into the
apathetic darkness of the night club.  Sporatic flashes of
lights and deafening beats of sound worked hellishly upon his
senses.  His white suit aflamed with color as he passed under
the lights trying to attract women over to him.  After a few
moments, Fitsroy decided to indulge himself in his drink.

	Upon recieving his drink, he proceeded to strike up a
conversation with a young lady who begged for his attentions.  

	"Hello there."  The lady didn't take notice.  Damn music. 
"Hello."

	Finally she turned her head toward him and responded lazily. 
"Oh hi."

	Fitsroy smiled.  He always liked challenges.  "I couldn't help
but notice you all alone here."

	The woman sighed and continued to sip at her tall frosty glass.
 "It hasn't been a good week for me."

	The short-haired young man grinned.  "How about I make you
forget about it?"

	Her eyes stayed fixed ahead, uninterested.  "Whatever."

	Fitsroy placed a small disk on the countertop next to the tall
glass and activated it.  An image of static appeared above the
disk and quickly cleared to reveal a three dimensional model of
an island paradise.  The model began to rotate giving her the
complete view of all the island's geographical features.  The
woman straightened up and stared at the image intently despite
its harsh glow.  

	Their reactions were always priceless.  No woman could hide
their amazement at what he had to offer them.  He didn't mind
showing it off either, whether or not it was wise.  It wasn't
like he was going to get caught.  

	"Imagine going to Rome during the reign of Caesar."  He
whispered into her ear.  "Or have some of the famous French
artists paint your portray."  

	The woman now gave him her full and undivided attention. 
Fitsroy snickered to himself, now it was time to seal the deal. 
"Only I can offer you that baby.  That and more."

	From out of the corner of his eye, the light-haired young man
could see someone coming directly towards him.  The last thing
he needed was an unwanted interruption at this crucial stage. 
Turning slightly, Fitsroy got a better view of the gentleman
approaching.  

	Scary looking fellow this one.  Kinda lanky, but dark.  Very
dark.  Dark clothes, dark hair, and dark expression.  That smirk
sent Fitsroy's stomach into loops and caused his spine to
momentarily lose its integrity.  Clumps of his long black hair
that framed his face swayed with each step.  The black curtains,
though, could not veil the eyes fixed directly upon him.   

	'Definitely boyfriend.'  Fitsroy concluded.  'No problem.'

	As the stranger stalked closer, Fitsroy stood there with no
shepherd to protect him.  Fortunately, experience had taught
Fitsroy how to deal with such predicaments.  Excusing himself
from the lady who was still entranced by his little toy, Fitsroy
calmly faced the man.

	"Excuse me sir, but I'd advise that you, well, be angry
somewhere else."  To make his point, Fitsroy pulled back his
white wool jacket to show the stranger his weapon.  These
primates may get mad, but they're usually not stupid enough to
pick a fight with someone with superior technology.

	The dark-haired stranger paused.  Looked closely at the other's
weapon.  The sounds and lights of the club became muted in the
few seconds the stranger took to return his intense gaze to the
taller gentleman's face.  The stranger's words reached him load
and clear.  

	"You stupid Society bastard."

	The stranger's fist flew to Fitsroy's face.  Stumbling
backward, Fitsroy struggled to keep the blood from pouring out
of his broken nose.  Another blow doubled him over and several
more followed as he tried to pick himself off the ground.  A
hand grasped a tuff of his short hair and threw him head first
onto the dance floor.  

	Forcing himself to his feet, he watched the stranger marching
at him through his swollen eye.  This stranger's expression was
one bound and determined.  He was not stopping.  Realization
came to Fitsroy.   He was a hunter.  

	"By the Goddess' Light, it's a damn Timelord!"  Fitsroy
murmured as he ran dazed through the crowd, getting his
bearings.  

	Frantic thoughts bubbled around his mind chaoticly.  All of
them threatening to drown him.  Where was that damn exit!? 
Where was that Timelord?!  He didn't want to die!  Trying to
think coherently, Fitsroy limped into the densest part of the
crowd.  Unfortunately, the crowd dispersed at the site of the
man in his white suit drenched in red and silver.  

	Looking behind, Fitsroy could see the Timelord shoving and
striking down anyone in his way.  Finally he spied an exit of
some kind.  Ducking through the doorway, he found himself with a
darkened staircase that only ascended away from this hellish
scene.  Either way, he didn't care at this point.

	He crawled up the steps, slipping on every so often, his white
jacket fluttering with each misstep towards his ascension.  The
loud thuds following him freminded Fitsroy ever more of his
arbiter.  He could hear the Timelord's breath, it sounded
excited and thrilled.  Those freaks would take enjoyment from
tracking them down like this.  

	From up top, a spotlight from the roof filtered through the
open door.  Fitsroy sighed as he finally saw the light at the
end of this darken tunnel.  Slamming the door behind himself,
Fitsroy scoped out the roof for any ladders that might be
peaking over the edge.  Yet none would reveal themselves to
offer him way to salvation.  Desparately, Fitsroy grabbed for
his weapon and groped only his empty holster.

	'It must have fallen out during the fight.'  Fitsroy ran his
hand through his short brown hair searching for anything that
could aid him.

	After securing a metal pole, the door flew open.  Stepping onto
the rooftop, the Timelord eyed his prey shaking his big stick at
him.  The Timelord flexed his right hand activating a silver
liquid flowing down from his wrist like it were alive.  It
covered his hand and kept flowing over his finger tips until
they had turned into razor sharp points.

	Fitsroy stepped back.  He had heard of these bio-engineered
weapons implanted in these soldiers, but he had never expected
to witness one first hand.  

	"You shouldn't have been showing off that holographic to that
woman, bastard.  I wouldn't have noticed you otherwise."  The
Timelord brought his newly formed clawed hand to eyelevel and
smirked.  "But I suppose that's unfortunate for you and
fortunate for me."           

-End of Preview-

I hope you liked.  Remember, any comments will be greatly appreciated.  I'm
still in the developing stages of this story, so any suggestions will be appreciated
as well.

Copyright stuff:
Tracer Zen, Timelords, and all associated characters are © Bastion Fitsroy 1999.

Adios.

Bastion
bastion@ix.netcom.com