From nv91-asa@nada.kth.se Wed Oct 22 17:11:04 1995 Status: RO X-Status: Received: from ns-mx.uiowa.edu (ns-mx.uiowa.edu [128.255.1.3]) by mail.nada.kth.se (8.6.10/8.6.10) with ESMTP id RAA03033 for ; Sun, 22 Oct 1995 17:11:02 +0100 Received: from chop.isca.uiowa.edu by ns-mx.uiowa.edu (8.6.10/19950309.1) on Sun, 22 Oct 1995 11:10:54 -0500 id LAA28124 with SMTP Received: from chop.isca.uiowa.edu by chop.isca.uiowa.edu (NX5.67e/NeXT-2.0) id AA05823; Sun, 22 Oct 95 11:13:09 -0500 Message-Id: <9510221613.AA05823@chop.isca.uiowa.edu> Date: Sun Oct 22 11:13:09 1995 X-Mailer: Panda-2.0b From: William Brinkman Reply-To: wbrinkm@chop.isca.uiowa.edu To: nv91-asa@nada.kth.se Subject: Story: Wide awake in dreamland (1 of 3) Wide Awake in Dreamland By William Brinkman (Well this is it. Um. It has possibilities. Yeah. My family says I'm crazy to start this business. They say it's a glorified apartment. Oh there you go again. What? You're family. You can't let them run your life forever. Even after what happened. You know, I'll bet that in a few years, every goth will flock to this run down excuse for a building just to look at the Mystic Moon, the best Goth/Occult store in Iowa City. I hope so.) Kris sighed as she walked into the front room of the Mystic Moon. "Paul?" She called out, "Do you need me to do anything else?" There was no response. Kris, still clutching her pink feather duster, walked over into the front room and looked behind the counter. Surround by old invoice orders, zines, and DIY CDs, a tall man sat in crowed desk in the corner of the room. He was wearing a black leather cap, with a jet black pony tail sticking out. Both of his ears had two silver earrings on the upper lobes. On the back of his black shirt was an X-Ray of a pair of hips and the words, "IndustrialCulture: We're so hip." His attention seem fixated on the blue screen of old, dirty Amgia that looked like it had seen better days. Kris walked over to the CD player on the shelf above him and punched the pause button, interrupting the Nine Inch Nails song, "Mr Self Destruct." "Paul!?!" She cried. The man still seemed lost in virtual reality. Angerly, she grabbed his shoulders. "Paul Stevens can you hear me!?!" Paul jumped back in his chair, then caught his breath. He shook his head then turned to Kris, his eyes still blinking. "I'm sorry. I was distracted. What did you say?" Asked Paul. Kris grumbled. "Do you need me to do anything or can I go now?" She said with a soft but stern voice "I don't want to be late for the rave at Hank's." Paul fought to keep from laughing. "I can close up the shop. Go on." Then he relaxed and cracked a slight smile. "Thanks for your help.Kris." "Any time Paul."'She walking towards the door. She turned back to Paul. "Sorry I yelled at you." "That's OK." Said Paul, rubbing his head. "I need to get started anyway." Kris smiles. "Julie is going to be at the rave." She said with a grin. Paul nodded slowly. "I hope you two have fun." He looked back at the screen. "Are you going?" Paul shrugged and looked up at Kris. "Maybe. Depends on if I'm in the mood to watch a rave put on by corporate flannel alternative types " "Whatever. See you there." Kris said and walked out of the store. He grumbled to himself for losing his connection to the Spy's Demise. His self-torture was interrupted when the cursor started moving on its own. "Just remember. My offer still stands. You can build you're own room in the Tower of Chaos if you join the Virtual Adepts." It typed. Paul chuckled to himself. Obviously he was still connected to the net. "I'll keep it in mind. :)" He typed. The screen started to flash blue and red. Characters started scrolling down the screen like a downpour. Paul thought he could make out an ascii figure waving at him, but it was probably an optical illusion from the scrolling characters. The characters then flowed off the screen, returning the screen to its boring blue self. Paul shook his head and shutdown the computer. What is it that drives Tradition Mages to recruit-orphans he wondered to himself After standing up, Paul slowly looked around the room. The room was filled with scented candles and incenses, as well as posters ranging from Native American spirts to NIN. Personally, he enjoyed the t-shirts for his zine, IndustrialCulture. Paul picked up the CD remote, which was resting on a crumpled pile of order forms, and pressed the play button. The NIN song resumed, and Paul started collecting his papers. A few minutes into the song, the gentle ringing of the door chimes barely pierced the sonic storm. Paul peered around the display case, and saw three teenaged women entering the store. He recognized one of them, a short woman wearing a ripped Danzig shirt and cut-off blue jeans. She would always look around the store, but rarely bought anything. Most of the time, she would always try to a look at him, but would never say anything. Paul picked up the remote and turn down the volume. "We're closing in five minutes." Paul said calmly. The woman blushed and looked at her friends. Her friend with blood red dyed hair, leaned over and whispered to her. They both giggled. She then looked up at Paul. "Um. We'd like to look at your shirts." She said quietly. "Actually," said the red-haired woman as she pushed her friend, "Helen would like to see your shirts." "Ryan!" Helen shirked. Her friends looked at each other and giggled like little children.. Paul pointed to the back rooms. "Just go straight back. They're in the last room straight ahead." She looked back at her friends and whispered to them, nervously looking back at Paul. They giggled and whispered back, pointing at Paul. Helen slowly turned around and looked up at Paul. She took a deep breath and said, "Um, c...could you show me?" Her friends struggled not to laugh. "Um," Ryan said, "we'll wait outside." Her other friend, a blond woman, added with a giggle, "Just scream out the window if you need us." They both turned and left. As the door closed, Paul could hear their laughter over the gentle chimes. Helen loudly sighed. Paul made his way around the counter. "Your friends seem to be in a good mood." Helen shrugged. "I don't think we've formally met. My name is Paul. Paul Stevens. You're Helen?" "Yes. Helen Emerson." Helen blushed and turned away from Paul. Paul slowly nodded. "Well Ms. Emerson, follow me." Helen quickly looked up and followed Paul. They made their way through the literature room. Helen briefly glanced at the various zines, especially the S and M ones, but her eyes soon returned to Paul. Paul stepped into the clothing room. "I hope you like our selection." Paul said, cracking a slight smile at Helen.. Helen walked into the room and gasped, like a child looking at a candy store for the first time. The room was packed with with shirts. The left and right walls seemed to be obscured with shirts and two large circular racks filled the center of the room. Helen mouthed the words "Wow" as she made her way to the center racks. Paul smiled. "So Helen, do you have a particular band in mind?" Helen shook her head, as if she were waking up from a dream. "Excuse me?" "Are you looking for a particular band shirt?" Said Paul, cracking a slight smile. "Um." She thought for a while. "Do you have a...Metallica shirt?" Paul shook his head. "Nope. Too mainstream." He walked over to one of the racks in the middle of the room. "Do you like Ministry?" Her eyes widened. "Yeah! They're cool!" Paul shifted through the shirts until he came upon the Ministry shirts. Helen smiled. "Do you have their albums?" She asked. "All of them." Paul said. He then grinned seductively and leaned towards Helen. He whispered, "I even have a .copy of With Sympathy at home." "I've never heard of that one." Paul chuckled evilly. "I think Al would like a lot of people not to hear that one." "Why?" "It's that bad." Paul said, cracking a smile. "Oh." said Helen, distracted by the Ministry shirts. She then turned her back to Paul and started sorting through the shirts. Paul walked over towards the open window. The last dirty orange light of sunset was fading behind the burnt red buildings. The Pedestrian Mall was filling with shoppers and early bar hoppers trying to file into the Union Bar. He glanced at the closed down businesses across from and sighed to himself. "Cool." Helen muttered to herself, almost oblivious to anything not hanging on the rack. Paul slowly turned around and studied Helen for a minute. Helen paid no attention to him as she pulled shirts off the rack. He looked down at her pale legs. "You have very forgiving parents." Helen froze mid-pull and looked up at Paul. "Excuse me?" He pointed at her Calvin Kline jeans. "My parents would have killed me if I had cut up a pair of designer jeans like that." "Oh I don't live with my parents." Helen quickly replied. "I live with a friend." Paul nodded. "My apologizes." Helen shrugged. "That's OK. He didn't care about these jeans. He bought me a lot of them." Paul tilted his head. "Oh really?" "Yeah. He buys me lots of stuff. He's nice. Sometimes I just wish--" Her voice fell silent. "Helen?" Helen started looking at the shirts again. "It's nothing." Paul stepped closer towards Helen. "Are you sure?" Helen nodded, not looking at him. "I see. Well I'll be up front closing. Come to the register when you're ready." Again Helen silently nodded. Paul walked up to the front room and picked up the remote. After sorting through his CD pile, he stopped the NIN CD and put in the Tyranny of Rhythm CD. Paul paused to enjoy the music for a few seconds, then he turned the front sign to "Closed" and gathered the rest of his papers. (Paul, it's for you.) After he finished collecting his papers, Paul stepped out from the counter and looked back at Helen. She seemed to have narrowed her choices down to two shirts. Paul started walking towards her. (Fuck you God! Why? What's wrong Paul? They're dead!) When Paul entered, Helen was holding her two shirts. "Find one?" Asked Paul. Helen gasped, dropping the shirts. She turned around, catching her breath and blushing. "You startled me!" She nervously laughed. "Sorry." "That's OK." Helen said, still catching her breath. She bent over to pick up the shirts. "Find one?" Asked Paul, setting his papers down on the floor. Helen nodded, setting one shirt on the rack. She held up the other, a black t-shirt with the album cover from A Mind is a Terrible Thing to Taste on the front. "Like it?" She asked, finally able to smile. Paul slowly nodded. "Yes. We can ring it up front." Paul started to turn around. "Paul?" Helen meekly said. He stopped and faced Helen again. She slowly took a deep breath. "I was wondering." She gulped. "Maybe you could--" She quickly lowered her head. "Could what?" Asked Paul. "Nothing." She quickly said, not looking at him. Paul moved towards one of the wall racks. "Are you sure?" "I don't know." "Does it have to do with your friends? They were acting kind of funny in the store." Her hands tensed as she looked up at Paul. "They wanted to ask you something." She paused for a second. Paul nodded for her to continue. "Actually they wanted me to ask you something. Well I wanted to ask you something." Paul leaned against the wall rack. "I'm listening." She took a deep breath. "Would...would you like to go to the Union Bar with me tonight?" She blurted out. Paul looked up at the ceiling. Helen blushed. "I know you probably don't like the music they play there but it's a nice place to talk. It's 80s night. Maybe I can talk them into playing cool music from the 80s." Paul chuckled. "I doubt that they would go for that." Helen lowered her red face. "But just talk?" She quickly looked, looking little more confident. "Yeah. Just talk." Paul rubbed the stubble on his chin. "Well, can I ask how old you are?" "Nineteen." She tried to say confidently. The CD skipped. "Are you sure?" Asked Paul sternly. Helen lowered her head and sighed. "Well, more like seventeen." "How do you plan to get in?" "I have an ID. They always let me in." She nervously smiled. "Would your friend mind?" "I don't' think so. He was pretty cool about the last time I went to a bar." Paul hmmed and looked closely at Helen again. "Sure." Helen dropped the shirt. "You-you mean--" "I would honored to meet you at the Union and talk." said Paul calmly. "Talk being the key word." Helen gasped. "Yes. Yes. Just talking. Oh wow!" She realized that she had dropped the shirt and kneeled down to pick it up. "Sorry." "No problem. Would 9 PM be fine?" "Ye-Yeah! Thank you very much Paul." Paul chuckled. "Just don't expect me to sneak you in. Helen smiled. "Oh no--" Suddenly Helen stopped talking and stared blankly into space. Paul ran towards Helen, his face reflecting his concern. "Helen?" "He..needs...me." Paul lightly touched her on the shoulder. "Who does?" "He needs me!" Helen yelled, dropping the shirt. "I have to go!" She darted towards the front door. "Wait!" Shouted Paul. He started to follow her but stopped when she threw open the door, slamming it against the wall. The clanging chimes barely drowned out her quick footsteps as she ran down the stairs. Paul looked at the door for a few moments before returning to pick up his papers and the crumpled shirt. He hoped he wasn't going to regret this. At 8:30 PM, Paul made his way back to the Ped Mall and joined the long line snaking into the Union Bar. He looked at the people around him, mostly college students, wearing brightly colored fraternity and sorority shirts. Paul was thankful for his arcane. He would have hated to be noticed in his ripped black jeans, and spiked jacket. He was also glad he chose not to wear his "Don't assume I'm straight/Don't assume I'm not" button. "Bob," said a blond woman behind him, wearing a pink shirt and a white short skirt. "Remember when we saw Material Issue here?" "Yeah Emily," said a muscular man wearing a black and gold Hawkeye shirt and long white shorts. "Now that show rocked!" "Yeah, but not as much as Ween did." Paul rolled his eyes and bit his lip. He looked around the darkened mall, wishing that his arcane could help him ignore others. After several minutes, Paul finally walked inside. The room was dark, except for light from the muted TVs, tuned to MTV, and well lit wooden bar in the center. Pop and "alternative" music played from the CD jukebox. Most of the waitstaff, he noticed, were busy running in and out of a room with a banner above the door saying, "80s Night! Dance to your favorite tunes from the 80s." Paul started to look for an open table. Coincidentally a couple sitting by the window, just stood up and started to leave. He walked over to the black plastic table and sat down. He dampened his arcane and started to wait. A blond waitress walked over to him, wearing a black Union Bar t-shirt and white slacks. Her white teeth glistened in the dim light. "Hi." She cheerfully said. "Our specials tonight are two for one bottles, dollar marguerites, and $3 pitchers of Coors." She said lyrically. He winced at the mention of Coors beer. "I'll just have a coke." She tried to keep the smile on her face. "Coming right up sir." She then turn and quickly walked over to the bar. Paul put his elbow on the table and looked out the window at the darkened mall. He noticed, in front of a closed down sporting good store, two figures sitting on a bench. He tried to figure out if one of them was kissing or biting the other. (Do you believe in monsters Paul? What? Do you believe in monsters Paul? No. You should know better.) The waitress returned with a small plastic cup filled with iced coke. "Thank you." Paul said. He gave her a $1 and politely nodded. It wasn't worth wasting mind magick to get a bigger glass. The waitress looked out the window at the figures. She shook her head. "You would think they could save it until they got home." Paul shrugged. The figure, who now looked male, leaned away from the other figure, who still seemed be alive. Paul sighed to himself and looked away. Nine O'clock came and went with no sigh of Helen. He still waited, trying to remember the last time he was stood up on a date. He looked back at the bench. The man and what now appeared to be a woman, were standing up. They started towards the fountain, the woman rubbing her neck. He continued to wait. At 9:30 he noticed an annoyingly familiar man walking towards him, wearing a white dress shirt with blue stripes, holding a small tabloid. "PauI!" He said in a low gravely voice. "What brings you here to this fine establishment?" He grumbled to himself for keeping his arcane down for too long. "I am waiting for a friend, Spike." Said Paul, slightly annoyed. "That's cool." Said Spike. "Mind if I join you?" "Only for a little while." Spike pulled up the other chair and neatly sat down. "Read my column in the new Eye?" He asked in a business like tone. Paul looked out the window again. "I don't read Eye." He said, paying little attention to Spike. Spike frowned. "Oh man you should!" He then handed the four page tabloid to Paul. "We're the hottest publication in Iowa City! You should think about advertising in it too. We're weekly now." Annoyed, Paul turned his attention to Spike. "Not interested." "But we just completed a market survey--" "I have no need to advertise in Iowa City. I'd rather focus on national advertising." Paul impatiently looked out the window. The line outside was almost gone. However, there was still no sign of Helen. "Ah!" Said Spike with a grin. "You do that through your zine, IndustrialCulture." Paul nodded, still not looking at Spike. He could see three figures gathering in front of the store. The tallest one, Paul suspected, was the man he first saw. It was too dark, however, for him to tell for sure. "I like that publication." Spike said unconvincingly. "Layout could use a little work, but hey, it's your publication. You can do what ever you with it, and people seem to like it." The figures slowly turned and walked away, like they were trying not to draw too much attention to themselves. Paul followed them for a bit before he noticed a familiar face. It was a man, wearing a "Rocket Transfer Warehouse" shirt. It was Steve, the person in charge of booking at Hank's, and someone Spike would never stop talking to if he stopped by the table. Paul let the Quintessence flow from his pattern. "Oh Spike. I forgot to tell you. There's a woman back there who wants to meet you." He pointed to the doors leading to the dance floor Spike's eyes widened. "Really? What does she look like?" "I think you'll like her. If you walk in there, I'm sure she'll recognize you." Spike stood up and held out his hand. "I appreciate our little chat Mr. Stevens." Paul shook his hand firmly and watched him cooly strut towards the dance floor. (So you believe in monsters. Of course I do silly. So where do they live? They're all over Dreamland. Dreamland? It's where you live, you silly sleeper you. Huh?) Almost on cue, Steve arrived. "Is this chair taken?" He asked with a smile. "Nope." Steve sat down and looked at Paul, almost seductively for a few seconds. Paul released his arcane, showing no emotion towards Steve. "Paul," he finally said, his eyes still locked on his face. "Let me buy you a beer" Paul cracked a smile. "You know I don't drink." "Unfortunately I have to." Said Steve straight faced. Paul seemed confused. Steve smiled widely. "Corpse humor." "Ah." Paul said, unamused. "That is what your kind call us isn't it." Paul shrugged "Some do. I don't. It's a disrespectful term." Steve leaned back and smiled. "I'll remember that the next time I deal with your friends." Paul leaned back in his chair and folded his hands. His eyes sternly locked on Steve. "So what brings you to Frat Hell? I thought you would be at your rave." Steve sighed. "Well Paul, I just don't get into that kind of music." Paul lifted his fingers briefly. "You're not missing much." Said Steve. "I guess the word is, raves at Hank's aren't very cool." Paul shrugged. "It is my understanding that the Ventrue have never been known for their taste in raves." Steve showed no emotion at first. Then he smiled and leaned towards Paul. "You know, I would be honored if you would do a rave for us." Paul spread his thumbs out briefly. "Perhaps. Now why are you really here?" Steve leaned away from Paul. "You know, you could use your powers to find out." "I could but I don't want to. Smart mages only use their power when they have to." Paul unfolded his hands. "I certainly hope I don't have to." Steve chuckled. "I am here for the same reason you are." Paul sat up. "Helen?" Steve nodded. "A 25 year old man going out with a 17 year old woman. I think they have laws against that." Paul slowly blinked. "That's for sex with a minor. There is no law against talking to a 17 year-old." He said firmly. "In a bar?" "I won't bring her in." Said Paul. "As far as I'm concerned, we're just going to sit here and talk for a bit, then she'll go home and brag to her friends about how she went out with that really cool Mystic Moon guy." They both chuckled. "But that might be moot," Paul continued, "Because I don't even know if she'll show up." "Oh she will, and that's why I need to talk you." Steve said as his smile faded. "I think it's only fair to warn you." Paul leaned back in his chair trying not to let his concern show. "She did act oddly at my store today." Steve nodded. "Did you talk to Helen about her parents?" Asked Steve. Paul nodded. "Said she didn't have any. Lives with a friend." A wary grin appeared on Doug's face. "What did she say about her 'friend?'" "Nothing." Steve scratched his head. "I don't know if I would call him a friend. He found her a few months ago, when she came to Iowa City. Well, ran away to Iowa City." Paul nodded, showing some of his concern. "Anyway, this 'friend' decided to, in a manner of speaking, adopt her. I think I should warn you that this 'friend' is kindred." Paul leaned forward in his chair. "Who?" Steve shook his head. "You know I don't give out names. Violation of the Masquerade. Doesn't your kind have that?" Paul help up his right hand and shook it. "It's just in our best interest not to be visible." Steve nodded. "I see." "What can you tell me about this vampire?" "The public image or the reality?" Paul bit his lip. "Both." "Publicly he's a respected person. A role-model for the community. Great sense of humor. Life of the party. The kind of 'responsible' business leader that the Press-Citizen loves to suck up to." Paul leaned back in his chair. "The reality." "He's crazy." Paul blinked. "Quite so. If you didn't know any better, you'd say he's a kook, but he's not." Paul gave him a confused look. "Not a kook? You said--" Steve held up his left hand. "Another time. But he's quite insane. And quite powerful. Some say he is the most powerful kindred in Iowa City." "The Prince?" Asked Paul. "Oh no!" Exclaimed Steve. "That's too up front for him. He likes to work behind the scenes. Oh, and our Prince is a she." Paul let his surprise slip out before regaining his composure. Steve laughed. and then continued. "He's quite fond of Helen. Been dominating her ever since he found her. You could say she's been quite conditioned to it." Paul nodded, his concern slowly changing to anger. "Why does he do this?" "I told you Paul. He's crazy. Dominating her is part of it, like a power trip." Paul shook his head. Steve kept talking. "I agree, it's disgusting. He considers her a trophy. He'll take her to kindred parties and business meetings and show her off. We all hate it, but he can get away with it." "Why?" Paul bluntly asked. "I can't go into that now. Right now, I want to warn you about him. Sure he may let Helen out of her cage sometimes, but he still holds the leash. He won't let her go easily, Paul." Paul clasped his hands. "I'll be careful." Steve started to respond when he suddenly stopped and looked out the window. Paul quickly turned. He could see Helen under a light, walking towards the Union. She stopped briefly to check her watch. Steve slowly stood up. "A friendly piece of advice my friend." Paul turned to face Steve. "Don't mess with him, unless you know what your doing. Even if you can bend reality, he's still dangerous." Paul slowly blinked his eyes. "Very well. Until next time." "I hope so." Steve said slowly. "I hope so." Steve extended his hand and Paul shook it firmly. Paul watched as Steve faded into the crowd. Paul then looked out the window and watched the litter blow by. (I thought the roses were a nice touch Paul. Is that all you can say!?! Well they were. My parents are dead and all you can talk about are the roses? My life is in a fucking shambles. The rest of my family is trying to decide if they should make me move out of town. And you're just sitting there telling me about the roses! Look at you. Babbling like an idiot. I'm sorry your parents died, but that happens all the time. Sure morn their loss, but then take control of your life. You are the one who is ultimately in control of you're reality. Don't let others trap you. That's easy for you to say. Humph. You're still asleep in Dreamland.) A familiar female voice echoed through the room. "But I am too 19!" Paul turned to the front. In the doorway, he saw Helen, tearfully arguing with an unimpressed bouncer. Paul stood up and calmly made his way over to them. "Sir?" Paul calmly said. The bouncer jerked his head towards Paul. "If you look closer at her ID, you'll see that she is 19." He held the id up to the light and squinted at it. After a fever cared about me. I was their 'little mistake.'" "Oh god." Moaned Paul. "They always fought. It was always about me." Paul leaned over and stroked her face with his other hand. "You don't have to tell me this." Said Paul. She shook her head. "One day my dad beat me. I don't know why. He just did." Helen started to cry. "So I ran away. Just took a bus as far as I could afford to go. So I ended up here." Her tears finally gave way. Paul pulled his chair over and tightly hugged her. "God that's terrible." "I hate them!" "It's all right to hate them. You have every right to hate them." Helen's sobs softened as Paul stroked her. From the dance hall, Modern English's "I'll Stop the World and Melt With You." started to play. "You're very kind." Helen sobbed. "Thank you." Paul said, still holding her. His eyes started to water. "I was so afraid you would laugh at me if I asked you out." Paul smiled broadly. "Don't be silly." Helen stopped her sobs, but still held on to Paul. "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you." "Oh no." Said Paul. He looked down at her. "I know how it feels to be alone." He patted her back. "It may seem like the end of the world, but it can also be a beginning." Helen became very still. Her breathing quickened. "Helen?" Helen suddenly pushed Paul away. "I have to go!" She said and jumped out of her chair. Paul stood up. "Why?" "He needs me!" "Who?" Helen started to run away. "Wait!" He said, using his mind magick. Helen stopped, her body trembling. "Who needs you? Why does he need you now?" "He loves me!" She shouted. "Do you?" His control failed. Helen turned and quickly shoved her way outside. Paul elbowed his way through the crowd. When he made his way outside, he could see Helen running towards the darkened parking lot. "Helen!" He yelled, and chased after her. when he reached the abandoned Holiday Inn building, a black doberman pincher jump out in front of him from a dark walkway. He snarled at him, exposing his bloody yellow teeth.. Paul stumbled to a halt. "Nice do-" A cold hand suddenly grabbed Paul's ponytail and pulled him into the half-lit walkway. In the darkness, two figures forced him to the ground, their ice cold hands almost burning his flesh. One of the hands bent his wrist down. Paul tried to scream, but another hand quickly covered his mouth. Down the walkway, Paul saw two small red lights appear. The glowing balls slowly started to move towards him, accompanied by the sound of walking boots. A few seconds later, Paul realized that the lights were actually glowing eyes. A large man, almost seven feet tall, stepped into view. Paul couldn't make out his face clearly, but he could see his torn t-shirt and mud caked jeans. "I have a message for you dude." He said as he moved into a shaft of light. Paul could now his his face. He had long scraggly blond hair and bushy eye brows. His skull seemed slanted, almost animal like. "It seems that you have been messing with one of my friend's retainers." He said calmly, walking closer to Paul. "He don't like that." The man held up his right hand. Black claws began to grow out it. "You should feel lucky that he sent me to deal with you." A cold hand pulled Paul's head back. "I'm going to let you live." The blond man said. "I'm not even going to drink your blood." He ran a claw lightly across Paul's face then pulled his hand back. "My friend wants you dead. But I don't like following his orders exactly. I'll just make you wish I'd killed you." He nodded to the others. They roughly pulled up Paul and threw him head first against the dirty white wall. Paul staggered back, holding his bleeding nose. The blond vampire grabbed Paul and turned him around. He seductively leaned forward and licked the oozing blood from Paul's nose. "Not bad." He said picking up Paul with his left arm. "Too bad I'm gonna have to spill it!" Paul screamed as the claws slashed his chest. Though his jacket took most of the damage, Paul could feel blood trickling down his body. The man dropped Paul. He limply collapsed to the ground. The man grinned. "Oh come on now. I haven't begun to kick the shit out of you yet." Paul quickly turned to face him. "You can dish it out, but I bet you can't take it." The men laughed. "OK." Said the blond man, "Take your best shot tough boy!" Paul pulled himself up and did his best imitation of a fighting stance. "I'll bet you have a glass jaw, corpse." The man smiled. "Go ahead and find out, Mr. Karate Kid." Paul linked with the man's mind and threw his strongest punch into his face. The man didn't move, but stared into space, his glassy eyes wide open. Paul stared back at him, showing no emotion. The man collapsed, his glazed eyes still staring into the darkness. Paul heard fo coincidentally find an M-1 tank along the way. The screech of static woke Paul. "Paul? Said Kris over the phone intercom. "There's a woman here who wants to talk to you." "Who is it?' asked Paul, hoping to hear Helen's voice. A faint, but angry, female voice replied. "You promised me that this month's issue of On Our Backs would be in today!" Paul turn off the speaker and cursed out loud. He turned it back on and politely replied. "They're having a problem with the printer Ms. Olson." "Oh dear! Well call me as soon as you get my copy!" "We will." Replied Paul. "Kris, I'm going to be on-line for a bit. If anyone calls or wants to see me, leave a message." "Sure thing Paul." Paul looked at his desk and moaned. It was covered with every vampire book he owned, including some that he would never sell, lest the Technocacy became suspicious. He had spent the past two days looking through them for anything which would help. But, as usual, the books wildly contradicted each other. He wasn't sure how far he could trust Steve for information. (So what do the monsters do? Lurk in the closest? Ha ha. Very funny Paul. They're all over Dreamland. Not that again. Yes that again. You're father might work for one. One might even be a police officer. Or you might even be dating one. Ohhhh, I'm so scared. You shouldn't be. You're still asleep. You have the luxury of ignoring them. And you? I can't. When you're wide awake in Dreamland, you can't ignore the monsters. You have to deal with them.) The screech of static grabbed his attention again. "Paul, I'm sorry to bother you, but there's a woman on line three who insists on speaking with you." His heart skipped. "I'll take it." He tried to say calmly. He picked up the phone. "Hello?" "Paul?" came a faint, but familiar voice. "Helen?" "Hi. Sorry I ran off. I just had a feeling I guess that I had to meet my friend." Paul closed his eyes. "I understand." "I really liked it though. It was nice to be able to really talk with someone for a change." "Ah." "But I got in trouble. I've been grounded for a month. I had to sneak by his guards just to use the phone. I don't know when I can see you again." A tear came from Paul's eyes. "I hope it's soon." Paul could hear some muffled noises in the background. "I have to run. But I just want to say that I love you Paul." The phone clicked before Paul could reply. He sighed and hung up the phone. A few seconds later, his office computer screen started to flicker. Paul turned and saw the image of a deck of Corpse: The Rotting cards appear on the screen. Paul wiped his eyes and tried to smile. "Hello Koin." The zombie on the facing card gave a toothless smile. "Hi Paul. Did I catch you at a bad time?" Paul shook his head. "No, not at all." "That's good. I should have given you more warning though. So how's Amy?" Paul felt a pit in his stomach. "We broke up two years ago." "Ooops. And you keep telling me that." "That's OK." Paul replied. "Did you get my mail?" The deck shuffled. "Yeah. I think I know who her vampire friend is. Allen Axeman. He's a developer who's funded a lot of Iowa City and Coralville candidates. One time Helen was caught using a fake ID at a bar, and someone connected to Axeman talked with the police officer and took her away." Paul nodded. "Oh, and I don't have any accounts of his birth or of him being seen in the daylight. He's been trying to buy out a lot of woodland. It may not seem like much, but I've heard that the vampires here are trying to drive out the Garou. Allen seems particularly interested in areas with a lot of Garou sightings. All of his political friends have been trying to open up those lands. Considering the amount of influence he has, I'd say he's a higher-up among the vampires? Paul nodded unemotionally. "Do you have his address?" "I'll FTP it to your computer" Said Koin. The decked shuffled a bit. "Um, I--I hope you don't take this wrong, but you might not want to mess with him. Vampires are extremely dangerous, even for mages." "I appreciate your concern. What did your files say about vampire domination?" "Oh man, you really messed up! I'm going to use my maggot nest and--" "Excuse me?" Asked Paul, blinking. The deck turned red. "0ops. Wrong window. I'm playing Corpse at the Spy's Demise. As I was going to say, the only ways to fight it would be to get an adept of mind to undo the domination, convince Axeman to release Helen, or--" He paused for a second. "Kill him." Paul sighed. "Is that it?" "Yeah man." Paul cracked his fingers. "Thanks for your help. I'll stop by the Amber chantry to drop off your Graveyard Pack. Hopefully, this Mr. Axeman can be reasoned with. I don't know any mind adepts in town and I am not a killer." "Good luck man. Um, I don't mean to intrude, but can I ask why you're doing this? He doesn't seem to be harming her. In fact, he seems to be taking good care of her." "I have my reasons." Paul said firmly. The zombie tried to frown with the reminder of his face. "Let me just say," added Paul, "I don't have the luxury of ignoring what Axeman is doing to her." "Fair enough man. I should let you know that I brought this up with the chantry and we feel that is between Axeman and you. So if things go wrong, don't expect us to bail you out." Paul nodded. "I don't think it will get that bad. Oh, before you go, I'm willing to trade an Un-holy Rocket Launcher card for one tass." "Make that two tass." Paul did a double-take. "You're going to need it." *** Paul pulled his red Harley over to the side of the road and looked at the mansion a block in front of him. Over the tall twisted hedge fence he could see an orange three story house, lit up by what must have been dozens of outdoor security lights. He admired the craftsmanship and care that went into the mansion, unlike the pre-fabricated house that sprawled about the area. It was like an island, in a sea of blandness. Paul reved his bike before he drove up to the gatehouse. A man with a clipboard perked up and calmly walked up to him. "I have an appointment to see Mr Axeman." Paul said, casting a rote. The guard looked down the list. "Ah! Mr.?" "Stevens. Paul Stevens." The guard turned to the gatehouse and nodded. The black metal gate started to open. Paul noticed the other guard making a phone call. "Just drive up to door Mr. Stevens. You will be escorted from there." "Thank you." Paul said coldly. He slowly drove through the gate. Paul pulled up to the walkway and turned off his Harley. Two guards walked towards him.. Paul stepped off the bike. He was slightly relieved to see that they weren't wearing mirrorshades. "Please stand still sir." Said the first escort. The second escort, pulled out a hand-held metal detector and systematically searched Paul. "He's clean." Said the second escort. "Please follow us sir." Paul nodded and followed them up the stairs. (Amy wait! What is it Paul? I understand! What do you mean? It happened last night. I-I was at the store. It just happened. Reality isn't fixed. Oh my. I think you just opened your eyes.) The escorts led him in to the living room. Everything was white, with no hint of dust. Paul guessed that nothing in the room was younger than the 1900s. He glanced at some paintings of 19th Century women and then followed the escorts up the large wooden stairway. (Do you remember what your books said about Magick? Um ,all my books said that magick is the focusing of your will upon reality. And? And I think I can do it! Yes. If you can think it, you can do it. Congratulations. You're now wide awake in Dreamland. Y-Yes. Now I can see the monsters.) Before long, they reached two glass doors, covered with two black curtains. The first escort unlatched the doors and slowly opened them. "Mr Axeman will see you now sir." Said the second escort. Paul tensed his hands and walked through the doors. The room appeared to be a study, filled with old leather bound books. It almost seemed as large as the Mystic Moon. In the back of the room, he could see Helen and another man behind a large wooden desk. He was a heavy set man, wearing a black business suit. The man appeared to be in his late 40s, with short, neatly trimed blonde hair and a long beard. Helen was sitting on his lap, wearing a pink blouse and black shirt. Paul tried not to react when he saw the man's hand under her blouse, rubbing her back. "Hello Mr. Stevens." He said, removing his hand from Helen's shirt. Helen glanced at Paul, looking confused. "Hello Mr. Axeman." Paul replied. Paul walked towards them, struggling to contain his rage. Axeman gestured to the escorts. They slowly closed the doors. "How nice of you to visit Helen and me." Paul nodded. "I believe there is some business we need to discuses." He said slowly, rubbing his hands. Axeman smiled and stroked Helen's hair. "I believe we do Mr. Stevens." Axeman forcefully turned Helen's head and French kissed her. Helen showed no emotion, coldly stroking him. Paul stared in horror. Axeman then pushed her back, laughing deeply at Paul's facial expression. Helen slowly turn to Paul. "H--Hi Paul." She said in a dazed state. Paul looked back at Helen, hiding his sadness. "Hello Helen." "He does that sometimes." Said Helen, managing a weak smile. Paul took a deep breath and then turned to Axeman. "I would prefer to speak to you in private." Axeman shrugged. "Helen won't bother us." "I insist!" Yelled Paul, staring into Axeman's eyes. Axeman stared back into Paul's eyes for a second. He frowned and said. "Very well." He causally turned to Helen. "I think you should go to bed Helen." Helen slowly stood up and quietly walked around the desk. She stopped by Paul and looked at him meekly. She started to reach out for him. "Now Helen!" Said Axeman. Helen sadly looked away from Paul and walked out of the room. Axeman shook his head in disgust. "Young people today." He said. Paul marched over to Axeman's desk. Staring into Axeman's eyes, he slammed his fists down on his desk. He leaned towards Axeman. "Let's cut the Masquerade crap. I know what you're doing to her!" Axeman shook his head and folded his hands. He looked back at Paul with disapointment. "Direct and to the point. How utterly boring!" "I want it to stop!" "Is that a threat Mr. Stevens?" Paul said nothing, still angrily looking at Axeman. Axeman motioned to the guest chair. "Have a seat. Oh, don't worry. It's not a trick." Paul slowly sat down, leering at Axeman. "I heard about your encounter with my associates. Very impressive. I assume you are a mage?" "You may assume that." Axeman grinned and then looked down at himself. "Well I see that you haven't changed me into a lawn chair." His laughter filled the room. "I'm hoping that we can work out this situation rationally." "Oh yes. I hope we can do that too. May I ask, what is it about her that's compels you to do something as foolish as to demand that I let her go?" Paul folded his hands. "She a person who's been through an emotional hell. She's scared and hurt and needs help. I see someone who is using her vulnerability to his advantage. You've made her a slave Mr. Axeman. That in itself is all the reason I need to free her." Axeman smiled. "Ah yes. The brave mage coming to save the sweet innocent girl from the evil vampire. Mr. Stevens, You should have seen her when I found her. She was a pathetic soul. Starving to death on the Ped Mall. Didn't even know where the homeless shelter was." He shook his head and pulled out a nail file. "She has a home now, gets proper meals, and gets to meet the cream of Iowa City. What could you provide her? Public school education? Parties with addicts and perverts? A minimum wage job at your joke store? What could your 'freedom' give her?" "Her freewill." Axeman laughed, pounding his hands on the desk. "That's over-rated. A man starving in a desert has total freedom, but no one we know would want that!" Paul folded his arms. "No one would want to be a well fed well cared for slave either. Besides, she wouldn't be alone. If you turn her over to me, I will accept responsibility for her well being." "You know," said Axeman filing his nails, "I have never been impressed with the way Iowa City people handle their young. They give them so little guidance and discipline" He stopped filing and looked up at Paul. "Do you realize that when I arrived here, there were no police officers in the schools? None. Amazing isn't it. You say you will give her freedom. I say she need guidance and that's what I can give her." "Guidance? You're more like a puppeteer and Helen is a puppet you use for your own pleasure. That's not guidance, that's just sick!" "You really should be more tolerant of other races Mr. Stevens." Paul snorted. "You know what I think Mr. Stevens," Axeman said, concentrating on his left index finger, "I think you're doing this because you love her." He looked up and started to wave his left index finger. He grinned widely. "Ah ah aaah. Don't lie to me. Shame on you Mr. Stevens. You're old enough to be her brother." Paul unfolded his arms and grabbed the arms of the chair. "And you are old enough to have founded her family line." He said sternly. The grin faded from Axeman's face. "I'm not that old, but touch my friend." Paul sighed and leaned forward. "What is your price for Helen's freedom?" "Making a deal with the devil, Mr. Stevens?" "I'm asking for your price." Paul said bluntly. Axeman looked up in the air for a few seconds. He snapped his head back to Paul. "No deal. She's not for sale." He smirked at Paul. Paul tensely folded his hands. "Why? Why is she so precious to you? I would hardly imagine you not wanting to make a deal." "I have my reasons Mr. Stevens." He replied with a chuckle. "But I guess if you come right down to it, old habits die hard. I still like a good kiss every now and then. Even if the drive is gone, a good lay isn't so bad once in awhile either." Paul tightened his grip. Axeman smiled. "Oh come on. You had to suspect that, didn't you. Oh! I forgot to mention that she's a good snack too." Paul leaped out of his chair and grabbed Axeman's jacket. "If you--" Axeman broke Paul's grip, then started to bursh off his suit.. "Don't touch the suit." Paul stared down at him with a scorching look. Axeman sighed. "If you are wondering, no I won't embrace her or turn her into a ghoul." Axeman chuckled. "You are so fun to provoke Mr. Stevens." Paul stepped back, disgusted. "He was right. You are crazy!" "Who told you that? Was it Steve?" Asked Axeman. Paul glared back at him silently. "Oh Paul, I really wouldn't listen to him. He's quite biased you know. I'm certainly not crazy Mr. Stevens.. I wouldn't have gotten this far if I were crazy. No, Paul, it's all politics. Steve and the Prince are on one side, and I'm on the other." Axeman stood up and walked around the desk. "You see. I'm the real power in Iowa City. Yes, the Prince gets all the glory, but I do the dirty work. I help expand the city so we can have more blood to feed off of, and it's my soldiers who keep the damn lupines at bay. Think of me as a general, Mr. Stevens. A general just waiting for the right moment to make my move. When that happens, I won't have to deal with all the silly civilians who think they can order me around." He leaned forward and spoke in a whisper. "You see Paul, I'm not crazy." Axeman then leaped back and threw his arms out, in Michael Jackson like voice, yelled, "I'm dangerous!" His laughter echoed throughout the study. Paul stood in stunned amazement at Axeman. Then slowly, he started to unzip his jacket. "Then general, I'm sure you'll understand this." A chill ran up his spine as he reached out to Axeman's mind. Axeman amusement turned to fear as he looked at Paul's open jacket. Paul smiled with relief. "This is a bomb I am wearing. In several minutes it will explode. If you kill me, it will automatically detonate. We are being watched right now. If anything happens to me, they will detonate it. Now unless you want to join the real dead, I would strongly urge you to release Helen!" Axeman's eyes remained locked on Paul's chest. "OK! I'll do you want..Don't kill me!" He whined. "Good! Then take me to her!" Paul relaxed some as Axeman walked around the desk. They started walking towards the doors, when Axeman suddenly stopped. Giggling, he turned towards Paul, the fear no longer in his eyes. "Maybe that's just a t-shirt you're wearing." The guest chair behind Paul smashed into Paul's back, shattering into several pieces. Paul fell to the hard wood floor. Before he could react, Axeman levitated Paul up to the ceiling. Axeman looked up at Paul and laughed. "Why don't you're friends detonate the bomb. Paul began to spin in the air like a propeller. "Maybe they get a kick out of seeing you like this." Paul drifted towards the back of the study. "Or maybe you don't have a bomb!" Paul dropped on the desk like a rock. He hit the hard wood desk with a loud bang and rolled onto the floor. Axeman grinned confidently as he walked towards Paul. "Almost had me fooled there Paul." He said, looking down at Paul's bloody body. His jacket was open, this time Axeman could see no bomb. "Good try though." Paul tried to stand up. "Stay!" Axeman yelled. Paul collapsed back on the floor. Axeman laughed. "Very good. I see you traders are not immune to domination." Axeman walked over to the desk and leaned against it. "Look at me Paul." Paul slowly turned and looked into Axeman's eyes. "I can do anything I want to you. I could kill you, embrace you, make you commit a crime. Anything Paul!" He grinned. "But for now, I want you to leave this place and never come back. You will never talk to Helen again. You hate her Paul. You hate her with a passion. Do you understand?" "Yes." Paul moaned. "Good now leave!" Paul weakly started to stand. "You were entertaining my friend. I look forward to our next meeting." Paul limped towards the doors. "I will enjoy using you Paul." Paul reached the doors and started to turn one of the handles. (When you're wide awake in Dreamland, you can't ignore the monsters. You have to deal with them.) Paul paused when he touched the handle. "Paul?" Asked Axeman, the confidence gone from his voice. Paul eyes started to water. "Forgive me." He said, his back still turned to Axeman. "I said leave Paul!" Axeman angrily shouted. Suddenly Paul turned and looked Axeman in the eye. Quintessence gushed from his pattern. Axeman's body shook for a second before he collapsed to the floor. "You think I'd face you unprepared! Huh?" Yelled Paul. Axeman convulsed on the floor, his arms and legs flying wildly about. "You forced me to do this!" Paul yelled, with tears in his eyes. "I tried to reason with you. God damn you, you fucking bastard!" Axeman started to scream like a wild animal caught in a steel trap. Paul could see his fangs wildly releasing and retracting. "Helen!" He screamed "Don't worry Al. You won't die." Said Paul, walking a few steps closer to Axeman. "I'm only going to destroy your higher functions. You'll be a vegetable for the rest of your undead life! And us mortals will burry you so we won't have to look at your ugly corpse!" Axeman tried to snake his way to Paul, growling and hissing. "Maybe if you're lucky Helen will forgive you and visit your grave." Axeman slithered a foot or two before he stopped and rolled on his back. The violent convolutions slowly settled into slight twitches. His mouth closed and his glassy eyes stared at Paul. Paul winced as the chill of paradox crept up his spine. "Rest in peace Axeman." Paul said coldly as he wiped his eyes. Behind him, The door flew open. Paul turned and saw five guards rush into the study, holding their pistols. One turned to Paul while the others gathered over Axeman's body. "I think he had a stroke." Said Paul, expending the last of his Quintessence. He then looked at the guards hovering over the body. "He's dead." One of the guards said. "Someone call an ambulance." "No!" Screamed a young woman. Paul turned and saw Helen standing in the doorway, wearing a long pink nightgown. She ran over to Axeman's body and stared at it in shock. Paul wiped his eyes, and walked over to her. "I was talking with him, when he collapsed." Said Paul. He saw Helen starting to shake. "I'm sorry--" "He never loved me." She muttered. "What?" Paul asked, touching her shoulder. "He never loved me!" She tearfully screamed. "That bastard never loved me!" She brushed off Paul's hand and glared at Axeman's body. She stared to kick the corpse. "You never loved me!" She repeatedly screamed. One of the guards shoved her back. Paul caught her before she fell. "Keep her back buddy." Helen struggled with Paul for a little before she turned and tightly hugged him. "He never loved me." She sobbed. "No he didn't." Paul replied, hugging her back. "No he didn't." "Could you get her out of here?" Yelled a guard. Paul looked down at Helen and tried to smile. "Let's go some place private." Helen nodded against Paul's chest. They slowly made their way out of the room. "It's going to be OK." Paul said sadly, "It's going to be OK." Helen still cried as they left the room. (Y-Yes. Now I can see the monsters. Oh you're so silly. Yes you can see the monsters, but there's more to being awake than that. You can control the dream now Paul. You don't have to worry about parents or people controlling you. You're free Paul. Free to choose you're own path Paul. I don't know what to say. It's incredible. There's so much to learn. I know Paul. But there are also so many possibilities Paul. You can control the dream now Paul. Did you do this? Oh I didn't choose you,silly, you awoke yourself. The only thing I did was help you gain control of your life. That's what it's all about Paul. It's not about monsters Paul, it's about personal freedom. And maybe through your store, you can help others gain control of their lives. Even if they don't awaken, that's the greatest gift you can give someone. And your greatest responsibility.) The end. William Brinkman (wbrinkm@panda.isca.uiowa.edu)