Date: Sat, 18 Jan 2003 11:44:51 -0800 (PST)
From: Liam Barnes <pagangamer@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Awakening: Chapter 3

<Standard Disclaimer Here> This is a work of fiction involving the
relationship of two young men (well, late teens to mid twenties), both
physical and emotional. If you are made uncomfortable by such subjects as
gay sex, magic and the supernatural, then please stop reading
now. Likewise, if you are below the age of 18, please stop here as well.

<More legal stuff> This story uses elements from White Wolf's World of
Darkness^Ù series of games. Mage: The Ascension, Magadon Pharmaceutical,
Verbena, Cult of Ecstasy, The Traditions, The Technocracy, Changeling: the
Dreaming and similar elements are copyrighted by White Wolf Game
Studio. This work of fiction is not a challenge to existing copyrighted
materials, and no profit is gained by it's publication.

	Kate Sanders, Aaron Barry, and Stefan are the intellectual property
of Don Bassingwaite and White Wolf Fiction. For a more in-depth treatment
of these characters, and a great read, pick up a copy of SUCH PAIN from
Harper Collins.

	Constructive criticism is highly appreciated; flamers and hate mail
will be ignored. Write me at PaganGamer@yahoo.com with Awakening in the
subject heading.


                                  The Awakening
                                 By Liam Barnes


                                        3
                              Dreams and Awakening


Kupalle's Night, Some Unknown Time in the Past.
Dusk
Zashkiv Lake, Baltic Region

	The sun laid low to the horizon as the village prepared for the
night's feast. Already, the young women of the area had gathered the
kupal'skiia; wreaths made from various ferns and meadow flowers. The men
had also been busy gathering brushwood, making the bundles into effigies of
the sun god Dajdbog. The air was filled with the scent of foods being
cooked for the night's feast; fried eggs and meats, wheat pudding kulahas,
and berry stuffed varenikis.
	Tschernol'bog watched the festival preparations from the side of
the village square with a quiet air of detachment. Though he looked like a
man no more than three decades old, he had been walking Creation since
around the golden age of humanity. In that time, he had witnessed
civilizations that covered hundreds of spans fall into squalled villages
that covered maybe a handful of acres.
	He had come to this village only recently, while looking for any
remnants of the old empires. A serious plague had been spreading throughout
the region and he had stopped to help out. Tschernol'bog had been both a
physician and mortician in the old days, helping those in need to either
live or die as deemed by the Fates. Fortunately, there had only been a few
which he had to coax into the Shadowrealm. The villagers had been grateful
for his help, though they were leery of his power. He was used to it.
	The villagers had asked for his help in another matter; they needed
someone to represent the Black God during their summer solstice
festival. Normally, their spirit talker fulfilled this part, but he had
been one of the earlier victims of the plague. Tschernol'bog asked what the
part required of him, to which they had stated he merely needed to
represent the Spirit of Night, which fought and won against the God of Day
on this sacred time. He had smiled at the irony of the part, and then
accepted.
	The sun was nearly set, and he was needed. The villagers were
decked out in simple woolen tunics and dresses, accented with their
gathered herbs. The sun-wheels were oiled and placed atop the mounds of
wood for the bonfires, while people stood by with waiting torches.
	A young girl ran up to the sorcerer, tugging on his black robes,
causing the small silver dots threaded through it to sparkle like stars in
the sky. "This way, Chernobog, sir."
	He smiled and followed. He was used to the mispronunciation of his
name by the locals. Their crude language didn't possess many of the
enunciations that his name possessed. Just as well, he thought. Names have
power.
	He came to a simple platform which stood at the center of the
square. The young girl left him there, running off to join her friends in
the gathering crowds. He felt as though he were on display, which only
intensified when he noticed the many women glancing his way. Some were
stealing coy glances, while others were more brazen in their lustful
looks. Seeing that these types of looks were being passed fairly evenly
between others in the crowd, Tschernol'bog was certain there was more to
this festival than feasting and blessings.
	Suddenly, he felt a shiver run through his body, one of a type he
hadn't felt in many years. The feeling was different somehow, muted instead
of overwhelming. He strained to look around for another of the Chosen, but
saw none. He employed the power within to expand his senses, looking at the
lines of Fate that scattered through the crowd. So engaged in his scrutiny
was he that he gave a start when he heard a tenor voice speak beside him.
	"So, you're the one who is supposed to kill me?"
	The sorcerer turned to the speaker, seeing a young man, maybe only
sixteen, standing in a pure white robe edged in gold. Though the words were
spoken in jest (there had been no mention of an actual slaying), his
connection to endings and Fate seemed to give more truth to the
statement. Such a shame for one so handsome and young. "The god of Day, I
take it?"
	"That would be me," he smiled impishly.
	"Is that what you go by normally, as well?"
	The dark headed youth laughed. "I'm Yur'ya."
	Another irony, Tschernol'bog thought. Yur'ya meant White One in the
old Realm language.
	"It's a fitting name for you." The older man gave a sad smile.


May 23rd, 2002
6:05 a.m.
Somewhere on the beach at Fort Funston

	Andrew slowly awoke to the sounds of birds and waves. Already the
dream was fading from his memories. He looked at Marcus in the wane morning
light, his black hair mussed from sleeping on the ground. Andrew felt as
though a hole had been filled within his very soul as he laid there,
wrapped by the other's limbs. He was prepared to curl back up and sleep
when he heard the snapping of a twig close by.
	"Well, what do we have here?" asked a masculine voice.
	Andrew jumped, suddenly conscious of his nudity. Beside him, Marcus
stirred and looked around. Before them stood a couple of patrolmen.
	"Oh shit," the dark headed boy muttered.
	Andrew scrambled to cover himself, blushing fully across his entire
body. "We're sorry, sir."
	"Busy night, boys?" the other officer asked. The two were
practically grinning.
	Marcus had pulled on his shorts, and was lighting up what looked to
be a joint. Andrew nearly passed out when the other blew a white-blue cloud
of smoke into the faces of the two officers. "Yes, sirs. But nothing
happened of any interest. So how's about you guys let us go and we'll clear
on out."
	"Marcus, what are you doing?" Andrew whispered
incredulously. Marcus just gave a confident wink.
	"Sorry, but we can't do that." The first officer stated.
	"Eh?" Marcus replied as eloquently as possible. From Andrew's
vantage point, it seemed that whatever Marcus had expected to happen,
didn't.
	"I'm afraid you two will have to come with us. Please, get
dressed."
	"Oh, come off it!" Marcus explained. His composure was completely
gone, it seemed. "We weren't even doing anything."
	"Marcus, don't . . ." Andrew warned.
	"Even if we ignored the public exposure and lewd sexual conduct."
Marcus nearly choked, and Andrew felt his knees grow weak. "There is also
the matter that this area of the beach has been closed off to the public."
	"When did that happen?" Marcus asked, taking a step closer to the
two officers.
	"About two months ago, sir," one of the stated.
	"Sir, please calm down," the other began.
	"We didn't know. . ." Andrew started.
	"And anyways, there weren't any fences or signs," Marcus stated it
as though it were more of a challenge than a fact.
	The officer that had first spoken looked stonily at the dark haired
youth. "Ignorance of the law is no excuse. And if you tried looking now,
you would find that the fences and signs are clearly posted.
	The air in the clearing seemed to change at that moment from one of
confrontation to tense expectation. Andrew looked back and forth between
the two sides. The officers held themselves as though prepared to act if
needed, while Marcus stared hard faced at the lead officer. However, Andrew
noticed the glint of fear creeping into the other youth's eyes.
	After a few minutes of the staring contest, Marcus finally backed
down. The two gathered their clothing, and then allowed themselves to be
cuffed. Something in the way Marcus flinched when the cuffs closed on his
wrists made Andrew's stomach sink. Surely it couldn't be that bad.  Of
course, that was when it fully dawned on him that the police would call his
parents. They would find out that he had lied to them about going out to
the after graduation party. They would also discover that he was gay, and
more embarrassing (if it were truly possible) that he was also sexually
active. Panic blossomed fully in his stomach.
	He looked over at Marcus, searching for some kind of comfort. He
was sorely disappointed when he did. The other's features were drowned in
despair.


May 23rd, 2002
8:12 a.m.
Taraval Police Station, San Francisco

	Agent Kate Sanders strode into red-brick police station. Inside the
doors, she straightened her light gray dress suit and pulled out a pair of
glasses with thin silver frames. Making sure they were adjusted, she looked
around for her partner, James Preston.
	"Excuse me?" A man asked from behind her. "May I help you?"
	She turned, noticing a middle aged man in brown slacks, white
button-up and tie walking towards her. It was only morning, but he already
seemed tired. Dark circles made his eyes look sunken, and his forehead was
lined with worry lines. "I'm Agent Sanders, with the F.B.I. I was meeting
Agent Preston to interrogate the young man brought in this morning."
	The man, seeming a bit confused, stated, "I think you have the
wrong precinct, Agent Sanders. There hasn't been anyone brought in . . ."
	Kate tapped a finger to the rim of her glasses and smiled. "Perhaps
you have just forgotten; early morning confusion and all. Try to remember."
	The man's eyes clouded over as his features went slack. "Oh, of
course. I'm sorry; Agent Preston is in the basement with both of the
perps." The man pointed out the direction of the basement stairs.
	"Thank you very much . . . um?"
	"Captain Davis," he offered.
	"Thank you, Captain. Please make sure that Agent Preston and I are
left uninterrupted." She began to walk off, but then stopped and turned
back to the captain. "Also, take a few days off. You've been working far
too hard."
	"Yes, that would be nice." He said absently as he rubbed his
temples.
	Kate found her way down to the basement level. She removed the
glasses and folded them back into their case. So much better than that
damned monocle, she thought bemused. The glasses were a minor device she
had procured from Control that allowed for limited mental Procedures, such
as swaying the minds of the weak.
	The downstairs area was drearily lit by pulsing fluorescent bulbs
and reeked of dust and sweat. The mottled gray tiles were in bad need of
cleaning, and the walls were stained from years of smoking without
sufficient air flow. Leaning against a wall between two shut doors was a
tall man with brown hair. He was wearing a simple black suit with a white
collarless shirt. Seeing Kate, he stood up and began to walk towards her.
	"Agent Preston," she greeted.
	"Agent Sanders."
	"What's the situation?"
	"When the two were brought in I had them separated into these two
rooms. The RD tried to break away, and so I had to rough him up some. I had
Control run a search on the other."
	"And?" Kate asked.
	Agent Preston handed over a small palm pad. "An Un-Enlightened,
though tests show he close to achieving Empowerment. Andrew Thomas Ledescu;
parents' names Charles and Meredith. He attends Norna Weaver High School
where he maintains a 4.0 grade average. His interests seem to focus on
biology, physiology and history.
	"His father is among the management at Magadon Pharmaceuticals."
Agent Preston gave her what she assumed was a meaningful look.
	She looked over the file on the palm pad, finding almost all of the
information that the other had given her verbatim. "Interesting. I'll have
to direct Dr. Himiitsu's attention towards him. With a little training,
Mr. Ledescu could make a fine recruit for the Progenitors." She flipped the
palm pad off. "I take it you mentioned his father's occupation due to some
relevant connection?"
	"The other RD is Marcus Uptmor, a member of the Cult of Ecstasy. I
have been following him for a few weeks. About a month ago, the daughter of
another Magadon officer was kidnapped and taken in by the
Ecstatics. Mr. Uptmor was seen with her on several occasions prior to and
shortly after her disappearance. In the mean time, several projects at the
company have been compromised or outright sabotaged."
	"So our RD is a terrorist and a kidnapper involved in . . . what? A
plot to disrupt Magadon's business?"
	"That is what Control figures."
	"Where is he now?"
	"I have him in the other room. I have questioned him, but he has
stated verily little. We might have to use one of the more involved
Procedures back at the Dispatch Center."
	"Has he attempted any anomalies or other deviance?"
	"No," the man shook his head. "I have him bound with Primium."
	Kate nodded her understanding. Primium was one of the Unions
greatest achievements. It was a metal alloy that halted the reality warping
abilities of superstitionist Reality Deviants. "Is there anything else I
should know?"
	"We have no other information on the RD beyond a few minor Reality
Crimes that are typical to his kind. As for the other, as far as he knows
he was picked up for trespassing on a closed off section of the Funston
beach, and for lewd behavior in public."
	"Lewd behavior?"
	"He and the RD were found together . . . au natural."
	Inwardly, Kate bristled at the smirk that Preston gave her. The New
World Order frowned at such outward displays of emotion, and she personally
found his attitude on the subject a bit offensive. But she let the other's
implied comment go. "Has his parents been contacted yet?"
	Agent Preston's smirk slid quickly away at her icy tone. "No,
sir. I thought it best to wait for you before acting. I was merely assigned
to interrogate the RD."
	"All right. Prepare him for departure. I will handle Mr. Ledescu."
With that, she walked into the room where Andrew was waiting.

				*	*	*

	Andrew sat in the small, windowless room feeling very afraid. He
was sure that if he had eaten this morning it would have all come right
back up. After the police had brought Marcus and him to the station, they
were separated. Hours later, he was still there, not sure what was going to
happen. Were his parents already there? Had they decided to let him stay in
jail after finding out their son was a fag? The wait was worse than
anything else.
	The dinged up metal door opened. He looked up at a young woman,
perhaps in her early thirties, with short blond brown hair. She wore a gray
dress suit with a name tag that said F.B.I. in big black letters, along
with her name and picture. Agent Kate Sanders. Suddenly, he felt his
worries about his parents were the least of his fears.
	"Good morning, Andrew," she said pleasantly. Sitting down across
from him, she leaned forward, arms crossed comfortably on the table. "How
are you?"
	Andrew stared, not sure how to react to this. "Fine." The statement
came out more as a question than an answer.
	"That's good to know." Then, her expression grew serious. "Andrew,
do you know why I am here?"
	He shook his head.
	"What happened this morning was very serious, Andrew You could have
been hurt or worse."
	"I'm sorry," Andrew implored. "Honestly, we really didn't see any
signs or fences. We were only going to be there for a little while . . ."
he broke off, turning red.
	Kate looked at him, carefully trying to keep the mask she wanted
him to perceive. Inside, the youth reminded her of someone else she
knew. "Don't worry about that. I'm afraid this has nothing to do with
that."
	"What? But I thought . . ."
	"Andrew, what do you know about Marcus Uptmor?"
	Andrew blushed again. "I guess, not much really," his voice was
quiet, shy. "We met last weekend at the park. Last night was our date."
	Kate barely heard the last word, but figured it out fairly easily
what he was getting at. She gave him a sympathetic look, then reached out
and touched his hand. "You may not like what I am about to say, Andrew, but
I think you need to know. For your own safety."
	Andrew looked up at her, meeting her eyes. "Last month, a girl
whose father also works for Magadon Pharmaceutical disappeared. She was
last seen with Marcus."
	Andrew jerked his hands away from her, a startled look on his
face. "You think he killed her?"
	Kate shook her head. "No, she has since been seen alive. Marcus
belongs to an underground cult. They use drugs and sexual favors to lure in
youths such as you. The young girl I mentioned has now been working for
them, helping them to steal drugs and other such things from Magadon. We
suspect that Marcus was attempting to do the same with you."
	"What? But why?"
	"Andrew, your father is part of the management for Magadon. Through
you, he could gain information as well as supplies for his cult." She could
see the doubt in his eyes for what she was saying, but also a growing
amount for whatever Marcus may have said to him. She decided to play upon
that to help him come to the conclusion she wanted him to.
	"Think about how you met Marcus. I'm sure it was a fairly quick
introduction. He sweeps in, seems to know everything about you, but leaves
just enough unsaid to make you curious. There may have even been a sense
that he was familiar or overwhelmingly attractive."
	Andrew leaned back. Everything she stated fit fairly well with what
had happened. Marcus showing up to the meeting and walking right over to
him. Then, the rather abrupt kiss and the lingering questions of how Marcus
had known he was gay. There was also the comment that he had made on the
beach. `I know more about you than anyone else, Andrew. And yet, I know
next to nothing.'
	Kate could tell that she had hit on the mark. She knew she
would. She knew the Cult's methods very well. Too well, she thought. She
felt a twinge of regret for having to do this to the youth. She imagined it
must hurt to here it, to realize that it was all just an act. She quashed
the feeling back down.
	"So what happens now?" Andrew asked numbly.
	"We will take Marcus in and try to find what we can about this cult
he belongs to. As for you, you're free to go when ever you want."
	"Are my parents outside?" There was slight fear in his voice.
	"No. You're parents weren't contacted yet." She saw him visibly
relax. "If you need a ride home, I can send for a cab."
	The blond youth shook his head. "That's okay, I can get home on my
own. The walk will help me to think." It was obvious that he was nearly
about to cry.
	 Kate's impulse was to reach out to him, to let him know that it
would be fine. But she didn't want to get too attached. He stood up to
leave, and opened the door. "If there is anything else we need to ask you,
Andrew, we will give you a call."
	"Yeah, fine." Then he was gone.
	Kate sighed, mentally marking one problem off her list for
today. Kate's impulse was to reach out to him, to let him know that it
would be fine. But she didn't want to get too attached. He stood up to
leave, and opened the door. "If there is anything else we need to ask you,
Andrew, we will give you a call."
	"Yeah, fine." Then he was gone.
	Kate sighed, mentally marking one problem off her list for
today. Still, the similarity between the boy and Stefan stayed with her.

				*	*	*

	Agent James Preston waited for Agent Sanders to step into the room
before heading back to the where the Reality Deviant waited. He had never
really enjoyed working with the NWO Operatives, preferring the company of
other Iteraters. He was, himself, a member of the nicked named Clockwork
Convention, Iteration X. Though not a full cyborg, he did possess a few
internal adjustments, mainly for memory and perceptive augmentation.
	The room was mostly empty, just a table with some equipment and a
chair. And the RD, Marcus Uptmor. Marcus was cuffed to the chair and
stripped bare. Wires and tubes hung from his body in various places, and
entered at a few spots, including his nose. His lip was bleeding heavily,
and bruises were already beginning to show just under the various burn
marks across his skin. As it was, the youth's left eye was nearly closed
from swelling.
	The torment hardly ended there. The air smelled of sweat, ozone and
antiseptic. Agent Preston was thorough, if anything. He tapped his wrist
causing a small square of skin to lift and slide over, revealing a touch
pad. Tapping a code in he reset the sound oscillators which he had tacked
to the walls to prevent eavesdropping, as well as the proximity alarm on
the door. Turning to face Marcus, a cold smile crossed his face.
	Marcus looked up at the Technocrat, his vision hampered by swelling
and tears. He bit his tongue, hoping to gird against the coming pain. In
his mind, he wondered what they were doing to Andrew, and hoped that it was
nothing like this. Then, he began to scream.


<End of Chapter 3. Thanks for all of the letters of encouragement. I'm glad
you all enjoy it. The next chapter should be on it's way soon. And feel
free to send me your comments.  ^_^ >