------------------------------------------------
----------------------------- 
                   Background History of 
Mitchell Langstrom 

Player: Jayce Wharton/ Star Fire
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----------------------------- 
  
    Born in 1978, Mitchell grew up in New York, 
New York, in the suburbs; the 
son of a moderately wealthy family, he excelled 
in school, but particularly 
in his flair for the performing arts. An 
excellent singer, flutist, dancer, 
and fairly good artist, he was always somewhat 
of an outcast from the usual 
crowd at school, and now, in highschool, remains 
somewhat that way, though 
he has begun to find his niche.  
    Working part time as a clothing model for 
catalogues, and the occasional 
life performance arranged by his mother, he 
makes a minimal, but comfortable 
amount of spending money.  
    His life has been far less than 
extraordinary thus far, though he has 
always had an interest and strong belief in 
psionics, and the supernatural, 
going so far as to believe that vampires, 
werewolves, and faery folk exist, 
somewhere. 
    That aliens exist somewhere in the universe, 
and are probably secretly  
visiting Earth, he also completely believes; you 
could walk up to him and  
introduce yourself as an alien, and he would 
only briefly consider that you  
might be joking, then think it a real 
possibility if you seemed reasonable 
otherwise. 
    He thinks that the supernatural is in 
actuality, just an extension of 
ordinary matter/energy/cosmological physics; 
just an area of it that has 
not been proven, technologically. He has always 
had vivid dreams of flying 
and shapeshifting. 
    At the time the game begins, he is preparing 
for a singing performance 
(he prefers rock) at a dance club, with the rest 
of an informal band he on 
occasion works with, consisting of other high 
school students. 
------------------------------------------------
----------------------------- 
Character Name: Mitchell Langstrom 
Race          : Human 
Gender        : Male   
Age           : 16 
Height        : 6' 1" 
Weight        : 165 lbs 
Eye Color     : Grey 
Hair Color    : Dark Brownish Black 
Strength      : Average (Could lift perhaps 150 
pounds, but not for long.) 
Dexterity     : Extremely High (Very 
agile/graceful/dextrous.) 
Intelligence  : Above Average. 
Hit Points    : Average for Humans in good 
health. 
Comeliness    : High, even before manifestation 
of powers. 
Appearance    : Very attractive, 6' 1", average 
build, refined features, 
                slightly exotic features, 
leaning heavily to the primary 
                genetic mixture of american 
indian/irish/spanish/english. 
  
ADVANTAGES: 
  
Wealth: (Comfortable; family wealth, not 
personal.) 
Musical Ability: Excellent. 
Intuition: Excellent. 
Slightly above average in all five senses; not 
paranormal, just very good. 
  
DISADVANTAGES: 
  
Fear of insects; common, strong. 
Exhibitionist: in everything he does, is more 
than a bit of a showoff. 
Vain; overly concerned with personal 
appearance/image. 
Mischievous; extremely. 
  
QUIRKS: 
  
Squeamish. 
Prefers extremes of climate; very cold, windy, 
snowy, or very hot, steamy, 
jungle-like. 
Always stops to look in the mirror, when one is 
available. 
  
SKILLS: 
  
Swimming: Very Good. 
Musical Instrument: Flute: Very Good. 
Musical Instrument: Electric Guitar: Very Good. 
Dancing: Spectacular. 
Singing: Spectacular.  
Artist: Fair. 
Persuasion: Very good. 
Seduction: Very good. 
Climbing: Fair. 
Jumping: Fair. 
Computer Programming: Good. 
Photography: Good. 
  
POSSESSIONS: 
  
Red Trans-Am Sportscar. 
Silver Flute. 
Electric Guitar. 
Large clothing selection. 
Laptop computer w/color LCD display. 
  
------------------------------------------------
----------------------------- 
<><><><><>

[GM]

Well, it's not Half Past MidNite, the major new 
club in the city that you'd like to play at, but 
you have to start somewhere. So here you are at 
a brand new "teen" night spot (no alcohol 
served, no one under 21 allowed...a nice 
"wholesome" place. Obviously your mother set 
this one up.) The audience is on the small side, 
since the place hasn't got much of a reputation 
yet. But you figure you and your band can change 
that. And if you can draw more business in, the 
place will become more popular, you'll become 
more popular...hey, watch out Nirvana!

So with a dazzling riff from the electric 
guitar, you all leap on stage and begin 
performing. You're feeling really good tonight, 
and you can tell you and your friends are 
playing very well. The kids in the place start 
dancing, which is a good sign, and soon there is 
quite a bit of energy in the place. Everything 
is going VERY well.

It keeps going well all night. The band played 
their set tunes so well, you decided to take a 
risk and try one of your own melodies. You had 
all agreed not to do this, since it's better to 
stick to easy, safe music your first few 
performances, but what the hell? Your friends 
look at you a bit annoyed as you start the 
routine you've all been practicing in your 
garages for the past few months, but they pick 
up the beat and run with it. And it goes well. 
Oh, sure, there are a couple of missed notes and 
an embarassing pause when your drummer misses a 
cue for a split second, but you're not 
professionals yet. Anyways, the audience likes 
the performance. You get off the stage with an 
enormous high, already seeing your name on a 
record album.

And as if the night wasn't perfect enough 
already, it looks like you've got your first 
groupie. She's short but VERY shapely, with dark 
hair and a somewhat dark complexion...perhaps 
part Hispanic. She's wearing a sleeveless yellow 
dress that clings to her body in a most pleasing 
fashion. She smiles at you with fluttering 
lashes, and when you smile back, she approaches.

"That was really good, dude. How long you guys 
been playing?"

Her name is Julie, and she's obviously entranced 
by you. As the evening goes on, you and the band 
go back onstage and play a few more sets, then 
you go back to Julie's table and talk. She's not 
terribly intellectual, but she seems nice 
enough. She flirts and dances with other guys in 
the place, but always comes back to you when you 
show up. Your friends in the band grin and make 
the obvious comments among themselves.

When the club closes and you and your friends 
have packed all your instruments into your cars, 
Julie takes your arm and leans against you. "So, 
like, do you have to go home now?" she asks 
coyly.

<><><><><>

   Mitchell smiles, enticed by Julie's weight 
against his side. *Mom'll have me neutered,* he 
thinks quickly, frantically, then relaxes. *Who 
cares? What a way to go.* He mentally laughs 
nervously, smiling calmly on the outside, and 
winks. "No," he replies, staying warmly, 
seductively close, "I have the entire night if I 
wish. Lets go somewhere dark, and quiet, for 
contrast," he suggests, pouring on every ounce 
of subtle, seductive charisma, eyes and mind 
discretely mapping her body thoroughly already, 
hormones in definite overdrive, sending his 
emotions into intoxicated chaos.

-Mitch-

<><><><><>

[GM]

[Starfire: I am kind of assuming Mitch hasn't 
"gone all the way" yet, but let me know if I'm 
wrong.]

Julie looks up at you with huge brown eyes and 
smiles alluringly. "Suuurre..." she purrs.

Oh my God, you think, she's dead serious. 
Hormones in serious overdrive, Mom's lectures 
about "steady relationships, nice girls who 
you'll love and respect" (and Dad's lectures 
about safe sex) nag at the back of your mind, 
but not enough to keep you from getting into 
your Trans Am with Julie. Where to go? Driving 
to a back country road seems a little cliched 
(not to mention a long drive, though the way 
Julie snuggles against you and playfully fiddles 
with your belt buckle looks to make it a 
pleasant one.) A hotel? In your mind that seems 
to escalate things from normal teenage hijinks 
to something a lot more serious...though what 
you have in mind would be equally serious 
whether you do it at the Holiday Inn or in the 
back seat of your car.

Then you remember your friend Andrew. His family 
is out of town, and they left you their house 
key so you could feed the fish and water the 
plants, and check up on things. Perfect. Unless, 
of course, anyone ever finds out, but you'll 
live with it.

"So, uh, a friend of mine has a place....we 
could go..." you say, somewhat tentatively, 
wishing you sounded a lot more suave and sure of 
yourself. Julie smiles and says "Anywhere you 
want."

You don't remember the drive that well, except 
that Julie was doing some VERY interesting 
things with her hands. She seemed inclined to do 
more, but you gently and regretfully reminded 
her that you still had to drive. You didn't even 
think about the possibility of neighbors seeing 
you going into the house with a girl. Inside, 
you do maintain enough sense not to head for the 
master bedroom; the floor of the livingroom has 
a plush carpet and will be easier to put back in 
order. And hey, they have a fireplace! Julie 
doesn't seem to mind. She doesn't mind when you 
start kissing her, and does nothing to dissuade 
you when you reach behind her and unzip her 
dress. As it falls to the ground, she unbuttons 
your shirt. "You're sure this is OK?" you half 
murmur, with her lips pressed against yours. 
Idiot! You think to yourself. Of course it's OK! 
She's being anything but hesitant, what a dork 
you're being! "I'll do anything you want, 
Mitch," she murmurs.

Something happens, amidst the rush of hormones 
and adrenalin. Mouths locked together, your 
hands exploring her and hers doing likewise, you 
feel drawn to her, drawn into her, the pressure 
inside you is unimaginable. And suddenly she 
stops moving in sync with you. She stops moving, 
but stiffens, then goes limp. Startled, and 
feeling odd, like something is very wrong, you 
sit up and look down at....you.

Your body feels...strange. You stand, almost 
falling because you're off balance for some 
reason. Staring down at Julie, who is not Julie 
but you. You lying naked and unconscious on the 
ground. You look down at yourself (the you that 
is standing up and thinking), with your shirt 
hanging open and your pants, which were pulled 
halfway down to your knees, now down around your 
ankles, much too large for you. Your open shirt 
reveals a full, generous bosom. You spin around 
and fall down, then crawl to the mantle and pull 
yourself up to the mirror that hangs above it.

A reflection of Julie's face stares back at you.

<><><><><>


   Mitchell stares at the reflection, startled 
when it moves in response to lifting hand toward 
the mirror; and to a parting of the lips, 
astonishment in those brown eyes. Mitchell draws 
the hand back, watching in the mirror, then 
directly, as it moves, the upper arm pressed 
against the side of a breast, to the unfamiliar 
lips. He traces them slowly with a fingertip, 
rational thought entirely impossible for long 
moments. Slowly, Mitchell carefully dislodges 
ankles from the jeans, and slowly tries to walk, 
taking off the shirt and leaving it behind, then 
going to a bedroom or the bathroom to find a 
more full length mirror. *A mirror that works* 
he thinks, dimly, feeling very dreamlike in 
state, each motion, each step, each jostling of 
the unfamiliar weight at the chest, a constant 
reminder that something is very wrong.
   Once in front of a mirror, he stares, 
thoughts slowly gathering into some semblence of 
reason. *Real, not a dream* he mentally repeats 
several times, then very slowly runs hands 
*wrong hands* over the body, in fear, amazement, 
and a strange curiosity, hormones *wrong 
hormones* surging in an odd excitement as the 
hands move down the chest and waist, pausing at 
the front of the thighs.
   Thoughts mired in unfamiliar sensation, eyes 
roaming away from the mirror to the real body, 
Mitchell shakes his head slowly, startled again 
by the hair, then draws the hands up again, and 
gazes into the mirror, hands exploring the 
bosom, and the sensation it brings. 
*Transmigration,* he thinks, his mind going over 
the stories, the novels, the movies in which two 
people exchange bodies. 18 Again. Freaky Friday. 
Prelude To A Kiss.
   *No, not transmigration. That's when the 
spirit moves from one body to another. I would 
have been nude, and she would have been wearing 
my clothes.*
   He sits down at the nearest possible 
location, lost in thought, hands subconsciously 
continuing to explore. *So then what? Somehow we 
switched not bodies, but body...what? Genetic 
code?* A glance more directly downward.
   *Definitely one chromosome.*
   *God. I don't have a Y chromosome in my 
body,* the thought struck the scientific side of 
his mind with greater impact than the flesh his 
hands were gliding across. *My real body 
changed. And hers. I was still wearing my own 
clothes.*
   *This is my body. Altered. The real atoms, 
rearranged.*
   *I may have skipped sex-ed class, but that's 
_not_ supposed to happen on your first time. Or 
second. Or third. Or fourth. Or ever!"
   Realization struck him like a ton of steel, 
making him gasp, "Gods," the sound of the word, 
the voice, as startling as the rest. *Atoms 
don't just decide to rearrange. I'm not going to 
change back! She's not going to change back!*
   Coherrent thought fleeing again, he stands, 
moving as quickly as possible, to grab up his 
pants and shirt, making sure his wallet is in 
it, and pulls the pants on, tightening the belt 
until they will stay on, all the more disturbed 
that the shape of shirt and pants are wrong for 
the body. *Can't go home. Can't stay 
here...she'll be all right here. Clothes in the 
closets, a bed -- Oh, god. I've got to figure 
out what's happening!*
   *Sorry Mom,* he thinks dimly, *I know you 
told me never to run out on a girl after sex, 
but I don't think you had this exact scenario 
covered.*
   Uncontrollable giggles hit him as he buttoned 
the shirt, feeling it constricting at the chest 
strangely. *Should have given me the speech for 
a daughter, Mom. Definitely can't go home.*
   Abandoning his shoes, staring down at feet 
too small for them, Mitchell walks quickly out, 
closing the door but leaving it unlocked, and 
getting into his car, adjusting the seat 
forward, then starting the car, and driving 
slowly out, intent on heading for a motel.
   *I'm sixteen. Twenty four hours before they 
can call out an APB on the car. Enough time to 
think. Enough time to find out...something. 
Think of something. Couldn't stay there. What if 
she woke up? She could be violent or something.*
   If unimpeded, he will, panicked but thinking 
in a pseudo rational manner, find a motel not 
fancy enough to require IDs, and check in, 
paying in advance for the night and next day.
   If successful, he will park the car, and go 
to the room. <will continue after this is 
processed>

-Mitchell-

<><><><><><><>

[GM]

You don't have much choice of motels, given your 
appearance, and the fact that right now you 
don't look much like the "Mitchell" on your 
credit card. Going to the cash machine at night 
makes you unusually nervous. Funny the things 
you always took for granted before. For 
instance, you're starting to see why women wear 
bras; your shirt is rubbing uncomfortably 
against your breasts, and unused to carrying 
this extra weight, you find it more than a 
little awkward.

You hate the way the desk clerk leers at you. 
But you check into a cheap Motel 6 and collapse 
on the bed. Much as you love women, you have 
never had any desire to BE one. If you were more 
of a chauvinist, you'd think maybe some 
capricious deity was teaching you a lesson, like 
in a bad Disney movie. But you don't think 
you've been such a dog that you'd deserve this 
forced lesson in seeing things from a "woman's 
point of view".

Pondering how you're going to explain this to 
Mom, you fall asleep.

When you wake up, things feel...different. 
Sitting up, you find your clothes are fitting 
much better now. A quick self-examination 
reveals that you're back to being you.

Your sudden elation is dimmed somewhat by three 
questions;

1) How did this happen? Or was it a dream? (An 
appealing thought, but your memories are just 
too vivid.)

2) What happened to Julie?

3) What are you going to tell Mom and Dad?

<><><><><><><>

Straightening his clothes, Mitchell settles on 
the side of the bed, lost in thought. *Aliens 
are into reproductive studies, I've heard. Maybe 
someone wanted to see what happens when two 
people switch bodies.*
   *No...that's too strange even for alien 
abductors. Too little to be gained, considering 
the effort. Besides, that would work best under 
some sort of controlled circumstances. On a ship 
or something.*
   *No, it had to be something on Earth. Julie. 
Or me. Except Julie seemed to be knocked 
unconscious by it. The shock of transformation 
probably. It was a pretty big shock to me too.*
   *But I didn't go unconscious. And she did. 
Which means somehow, I was a bit better prepared 
for it. All the shapeshifter movies I've seen? I 
always did think it would be interesting to be 
able to change. But then, I always wanted to be 
a vampire also, and a million other things. 
Never had any gender reversal fantasies or 
anything, exactly, though the idea isn't totally 
hideous.*
   *Definitely never wanted to be stuck in any 
one form, though.* He shudders slightly, 
sighing, laying back, staring at the ceiling.
   *Atoms don't just rearrange themselves. Move 
them about, and they stay in place, until acted 
upon by an external force. Yet I'm back to my 
original form this morning.*
   He sits up suddenly, the full impact hitting 
him. *The force acted again, sometime during 
sleep. And Julie's not here.*
   "It's me. Its got to be me," he whispered, 
awestruck. *We snore, turn over, snort, flail 
our arms about during sleep, even act out 
dreams, when very stressed out. Why not induce 
transformations, if you have the ability? A 
subconscious act, triggerred by the fears of not 
being able to turn back. So afraid of staying 
that way forever, that I did it again, when 
sleeping.*
   *And Julie's not here.* "Damn." *She'd still 
be in a duplicate of my body, since I'm pretty 
far away from her. No way I could have reached 
out and changed her back from this far, even 
assuming I can do it at all, and the two 
incidents weren't just flukes. Accidental 
connections of neurons.*
   *First thing's first, though. What to tell 
Mom? She'll think I'm on dope or something 
worse. The band saw me leave with the girl, 
though. Whatever I do, it had better be fast. 
I'd better find a way to change her back too, or 
I'll be magically transformed into a prison 
inmate. No law against turning a girl into a 
guy, but there sure is one against kidnapping.*
   Standing, he walks to the mirror and gazes 
into it. *I've got to find out one way or 
another if it's me or not, and if it is, I have 
to learn to control it, real quick. Besides, it 
would look _real_ bad for me to walk out of here 
alone, after someone else rented the room. Have 
to turn in the key.*
   Mitchell clears anything aside from the sink 
that might break, and opens his shirt, breathing 
slowly and evenly, trying not to panic at the 
thought of what he is intent on. *It wasn't all 
that bad, leers aside. Only strange, and 
different. Always wanted to do this kind of 
thing, even though last night's variation was 
not top on the list. Just relax. If I succeed, I 
can change myself back later. Probably.*
   Clearing his mind, using simple breathing 
exercises to relax, he stares at himself in the 
mirror. *Do it just like in dreams of flight or 
shapeshifting; just imagine, and pour on the 
concentration. Desire the change. Desire it.*
   *Make...it..._happen_!* concentrating 
intensely, pouring on every bit of willpower he 
possesses, he envisions, desires, and feels 
himself as Julie, calling to mind the instant of 
the change; and to his surprise, finding it very 
easy to desire the transformation, desire the 
body. *Change!* he mentally shouts, straining 
with intent focus on flesh, bone, blood, DNA, 
overall form and appearance. Resolve, 
desperation, and a lifetime of dreaming of the 
paranormal, coalesce into an instant in which 
entire mind and spirit are focused on the 
transformation; a single minded desire for it to 
happen again.

-Mitchell-

<><><><><>

[GM]

Your features distort in the mirror, and you 
feel your flesh rippling and flowing like clay. 
You concentrate on an image of Julie until the 
strange sensations of muscles and bones and 
tissue and skin moving and transforming subside.

What you've become is a female-type that looks 
vaguely like Julie. Your body feels strange; you 
look down at your chest, and while the breasts 
there make a presentable appearance at first 
glance, they seem somewhat oddly shaped. Further 
investigation shows other anomolies....you have 
too much leg muscle, your hips are too narrow, 
your lips look too masculine. You don't want to 
think about what your internal arrangement might 
be. You could pass for a woman easily enough, 
but you suspect anyone conducting a medical 
examination on you would find more than a few 
things to raise eyebrows. With concentration, 
you fix each of the things that are wrong; make 
your lips fuller, your hips wider...you're not 
sure about the breasts. You haven't seen enough 
breasts up close to really compare, you think 
ruefully.

Then the big test; you concentrate again, and 
are relieved to see your features flow and meld 
back into the body you know and love.

<><><><><>

Mitchell stands staring for long moments after 
returning himself to original form. "It's real. 
It's really real, and it's me." A wide grin 
springs into existence on his face, mind rushing 
through the vast collection of shapeshifting 
stories it has absorbed from childhood on. "Odo, 
move over. Terminator two, get real. I _can_. 
Real flesh and blood." He laughs quietly at the 
messy transforms. *It'll take time to master. 
Have to experience a wide range of forms and get 
to know them in detail. Now, what made the 
difference with Julie? Genetic sample. It's got 
to be. I was touching her, so I scanned her 
genetic code instinctively, and imposed it on my 
own cells.*
   *Like a mimic. Like the Terminator, in that 
way. Except not in metal, but in real cells. 
Should study anatomical books also, to help with 
the custom forms. Photos probably help a lot, 
too...having a kind of mental resonance with an 
image, to get the form right.*
   He grins. "Now there's a tool for the 
performing arts. Be anyone from a singer to 
supermodel, at a whim." *Except for the 
identification. Would have to find someone to 
fake that, I guess.*
   *There have to be better ways to use it 
regularly, though. The first way had better be 
to get me out of trouble, though.*
   At length, he concentrates, gazing into the 
mirror, and resumes the pseudo Julie form, 
fixing it until, with clothing at least, it will 
pass for the hotel clerk. *Everyone looks 
terrible in the morning. As long as the eyes are 
in the right place, it shouldn't raise eyebrows 
too much. Eww. I've got to work on this. I want 
to look spectacular, male, female, or whatever.*
   He grins wider. *A new challenge. I've got to 
learn to look great, no matter what the form.*
   Taking a final glance in the mirror, making 
certain his height and general build are right, 
shuddering slightly at the sensation of the 
shifting, he makes certain he has his wallet, 
and heads out to return the room key and head, 
cautiously, for Andrew's house, hoping Julie 
decided to stay the night.
   Aware that she may have caused a bit of chaos 
upon awakening, aware that she is probably still 
in his form, he will be watching carefully for 
signs of unusual activity around the house, and 
the street, before approaching.

-Mitchell-

<><><><><>

[GM]

No sign of unusual activity. When you enter the 
house, everything seems to be in order. Julie 
(in whatever body she's in) is gone, and so are 
her clothes.

<><><><><>

Mitchell sighs in relief. *She must have 
reverted to original form. Otherwise, why would 
her clothes be gone? At least that's taken care 
of.*
   He locks up, returns to his car, and ducks 
down out of sight, concentrates, returning to 
his original form. *I wonder what happens if I 
spend more time in some new form, than I do my 
own? I might forget the original form. That 
would be strange. Though, possibly handy. Once 
Mom knows, I can afford to take the risk and try 
it. If I want to let her know, that is.*
   He drives slowly home, thinking along the 
way, steeling himself for the likely very long 
talk ahead. *First I will tell her the normal 
part...meeting Julie, and going for a drive, to 
talk and...become intimate. Then I will tell her 
we started to go all the way, but never did. She 
may or may not believe it, and will likely be 
upset, but she's not a raging maniac. She will 
mainly be worried-upset, with some mad-upset, 
unless I miss my guess.*
   He grins. *Then I'll tell, and show, the 
rest."

   Mitchell nearly stops the car, suddenly 
panicking. He slows down, driving more 
carefully, abruptly very grim. *I've got to tell 
her, but I doubt I will be able to stay. She's 
pretty accepting of the strange things I'm 
interested in, but -- shapeshifting? That might 
be stretching tolerance a bit.*
   *And Dad. Gods and Goddesses. What will Dad's 
reaction be?*
   He grins again, contemplating the flute and 
guitar in the back of the car. *Who cares? As 
long as Mom knows I'm all right, Dad can have a 
fit if he wants to. I can leave, Mom will know 
her son, if a bit alien, is likely to be all 
right. And I get to show my father that all that 
time thinking of the supernatural, dreaming of 
aliens, shapeshifters, and superheroes, was not 
all for nothing.*
   "I get to show him it's real. Very real."

   Relaxed, set on a course of action, Mitchell 
drives the rest of the way home, and has the 
following intent:

   If all seems normal (normal, for him being 
missing since last night), he will lock the car, 
parking it where it cannot be blocked in, then 
go in and arrange to speak to his mother, alone, 
and out of hearing range of his father; on the 
grounds that it is on advice about a 
relationship, and that he wants to tell her 
everything, first. He will be insistant, 
pleading if need be.
   If successful, once alone with her, he will 
quietly get her to sit down, and, remaining 
standing, will pace a bit and tell her 
everything, in this manner:

   "The band played very well last night, and 
the club had a wonderful time, really getting 
into the music. I was on a natural high, feeding 
off the crowd psychologically, and not thinking 
straight. Thoughts of record albums, MTV, the 
whole route, kept dancing in my mind. I felt as 
if I had finally made it. And in a way, it was 
true...everything went perfectly. As the night 
ended, I was approached by a girl. Very pretty, 
Mom; you'd love her. She was enthralled by my 
singing, and seemed to want to get to know me. 
Very attracted to me. I was, as I said, not 
thinking straight...I guess sometimes hormones 
get the best of you, and stuff intelligence and 
thinking, in a closet. I did a dumb thing, and 
went with her for a drive, and wound up at 
Andrew's house, which is vacant, and I had the 
key for taking care of the fish and things."
   He sighs, answering any questions, agreeing 
that it was a dangerous, ill thought out thing 
to do, then continues. "That is not all that 
happened, though. We started to...go all the 
way...but never managed to. Now, mother, this is 
a part that will sound absolutely ridiculous, 
but stay calm. I can prove it, right after I 
tell you."
   "We were holding one another, kissing, and 
suddenly I felt a kind of pressure...but not the 
normal kind. Not from excitement or 
anything...it was like something very, very 
wrong. Then, suddenly, Julie went limp...went 
unconscious. Not hurt or anything...it was all 
gentle, and mutual. But, I felt really strange, 
physically. I stumbled, fell, and looked at 
Julie... except, she looked _exactly_ like me. 
Absolutely identical. Real flesh and blood 
change, just like in shapeshifting movies."
   "What was stranger, is that _I_ had Julie's 
body. But I was still wearing my usual clothes. 
My body had become like hers had been...a real, 
solid, flesh and blood female, and she was a 
male; me, specifically."
   "At first I thought we had traded bodies, but 
since we did not trade clothes, I knew that we 
had actually changed, instead of just switching 
our minds. I panicked. I managed to get my 
clothing to stay on, and I left, driving to a 
motel and staying the night. Sometime during the 
night, I must have changed myself back, since I 
was back like this...and no, it was not just a 
dream, or a drug induced hallucination. I can 
prove it."
   Once he calms her down a bit, using every bit 
of charisma and persuasive power he has, he will 
continue.
   "Now...you know that character on Star Trek, 
Deep Space Nine, that I pointed out to you? The 
one who can shapeshift? This morning I found out 
that I can do it, too. For real. I will do it 
now, to show you...please don't scream, or 
anything like that. It looks kind of strange, 
because I have not practiced much."
   He concentrates, very carefully and in as 
great a detail as possible, on assuming the 
Julie form, intent on improving it over the last 
few tries.

-Mitchell-

<><><><><>

[GM]

[Boy, Mitchell assumes a lot, doesn't he? <g>]

As you expected. Mom and Dad are standing right 
by the front door when you come in, ready to 
unleash the full fury of Parental Concern, 
Righteous Indignation, Shock, Dismay and 
Disappointment, etc. etc. etc.

It takes some doing, but you convince Mom to let 
you talk to her alone first. Dad says "Don't 
think you're going to get your mother to let you 
off easy, young man. When she's done with you, 
*I* WILL have my own conversation with you!"

Once alone with Mom, you begin your spiel. She 
listens all the way to the part where you get to 
Andrew's house without interrupting, though you 
can see by the folded arms and skeptical 
expression that she's not buying the "I just got 
carried away with all the excitement" argument. 
When you pause, she says all the things you 
expected her to say about lack of judgement, 
lack of responsibility, lack of respect, being 
grounded until you're 30, etc. 

When you start talking about making out with 
Julie, she looks severe and disapproving. When 
you talk about how she passed out and you felt 
strange, she looks puzzled. When you start 
talking about changing bodies, her expression 
turns to one of concern. She stares at you in 
shock, and mutters "Oh my God, Mitch, either 
you've got less sense than I gave you credit 
for, to try to pass off a story like that, or 
you've really gone off the deep end."

You manage to get her to listen to the rest of 
the night's events, though the concerned 
expression stays on her face. She just keeps 
shaking her head. "Mitch, we should have been 
keeping a closer eye on you, you've started to 
actually LIVE in your fantasy worlds..."

It isn't easy, but you keep going. The Star Trek 
reference is the last straw. "STAR TRE- Oh good 
GRIEF Mitchell!! Would you LISTEN to yourself?! 
Mitch, I KNOW you believe in all these...these 
aliens and vampires and what-not but people 
don't DO those things! You can't make yourself 
change shape just because you want to believe 
it's possible!"

Once again, you calm her down, and notice that 
you're having more success than you'd 
expect...normally, when Mom gets this worked up 
(the last time she was this upset was when you 
sent the entire $2000 your Uncle Carl left you 
to the Institute for Research into Extra-
Terrestrial Intelligence,) she has to cut loose, 
and you wouldn't get a word out until after 
she'd finished, after a long, long time.

With a look of grave dismay, she watches while 
you prepare to offer proof- [wouldn't this be a 
BAD time for him to fail his skill roll? <g> 
nawww...], then her hand flies to her mouth when 
your face starts melding. She gasps, lets out a 
breathless screech, and almost falls down. You 
swiftly move to catch her, and she gibbers 
"How...how can you...this isn't happening...it's 
not possible things like this aren't real my 
GOD-!"

Dad pushes the door open. "What the hell is 
going on here? Are you all right, Lillian?" You 
quickly turn away and try to force yourself back 
to normal. You notice some pain this time, when 
you try shifting faster than before, but it 
quickly subsides. Mom says "No, no, it's all 
right, get out dammit! Let us finish talking!" 
Surprised at Mom's unusually harsh tone, Dad 
backs off and closes the door.

Mom needs a glass of water, which you quickly 
provide. A little more calm, she watches you 
demonstrate again (after she suspiciously 
demanded whether you were playing a prank on her 
with some special effects gimmick you got 
somewhere. "I swear if this is a trick, 
Mitchell, you will never see the light of day 
again!")

"My God, Mitchell, you're going to make me take 
up smoking again! How can this be possible? It 
just doesn't happen! I mean, for Pete's sake, 
even if some people COULD do these things, it's 
too much of a coincidence that YOU would be able 
to, just because you've fantasized about it! 
Something....something must have happened to 
you..."

You feel very bad. Trying to comfort her, you 
insist that you're all right. In fact, you're 
wonderful!

"Yes, you WOULD think this is great, wouldn't 
you? Oh jeez, Mitch. What are we going to do? 
Well, of course we need to tell your father. No, 
don't be ridiculous, you know your father loves 
you. Just because you don't always see eye-to-
eye doesn't mean he's going to throw you out of 
the house for being....different."

<><><><><>

[OOC: Mitchell is the kind, that upon 
encountering a crowd of people, one of which is 
wearing Spock ears, will immediately know the 
crowd is a Star Trek convention, and will likely 
go buy a costume and join in before verifying 
it. ;)  If jumping to conclusions were to 
replace the high jump in the summer olympics, he 
would win, hands down. Turning out to be a 
shapeshifter is not going to help matters, 
there. <g>]

> "My God, Mitchell, you're going to make me 
take up smoking again!
 > How can this be possible? It just doesn't 
happen! I mean, for
 > Pete's sake, even if some people COULD do 
these things, it's too
 > much of a coincidence that YOU would be able 
to, just because
 > you've fantasized about it! 
Something....something must have
 > happened to you..."

   Mitchell keeps his voice _very_ low, 
especially after the transformation.
   "I know. It is too much of a coincidence. 
I've always had pretty wild dreams, from the 
science fiction and fantasy I read and watch. 
Maybe the dreams were more than that. Or maybe 
they just shaped...sorry about the pun...the 
talents, when something else gave them to me. 
Cosmic rays, aliens, pollution, top secret 
telekinetic formula I got a whiff 
of...something. By some means, the talents must 
have been awakened in me. I don't think it's 
biological, though. I do it by pure 
concentration. I think the difference isn't in 
my body, but my mind. Not the way I think...I'm 
still me. But it's like my thoughts alter human 
cells...mine, or anyone else's."
   "But I'm all right. I'm healthy, I feel good, 
and really, I feel wonderful. Dad was partially 
right...in an ordinary world, with my head 
filled with magic, aliens, shapeshifters, and 
such, I wouldn't have stood much of a chance of 
being happy. But now, it's real. At least one 
part, and maybe others."

 > "Yes, you WOULD think this is great, wouldn't 
you? Oh jeez, Mitch.
 > What are we going to do? Well, of course we 
need to tell your
 > father. No, don't be ridiculous, you know 
your father loves you.
 > Just because you don't always see eye-to-eye 
doesn't mean he's
 > going to throw you out of the house for 
being....different."

   "It is wonderful. I've always been into 
appearance...well, now, I can have any I wish to 
have. Once I get good at it, that is. Though, it 
will take a lot of practice, and spending a lot 
of time in various body types. No one can know, 
though. In fact, I've got to find Julie and 
swear her to secrecy. You, and Dad, will have to 
keep absolutely quiet about it also. I could 
wind up sliced into thin sections on someone's 
microscope slide, if anyone finds out."
   Mitchell sighs. "I know we have to tell him. 
I was almost panicked enough to tell you, then 
run away...but I guess we have to try. I don't 
really want to run." He smiles. "That was why I 
wanted to speak to you first. In case Dad hits 
the roof and won't listen at all...I wanted you 
to know everything was all right. To know what 
happened."
   "You're going to have to back me up from the 
start, even after he sees and hears me in this 
form, and sees me change back. You almost 
thought I was pulling a special effects trick. 
Dad'll probably believe it wholeheartedly at 
first."
   "Just a second while I refine the body a bit, 
then we'll let him in. Seeing a stranger in my 
clothing may be the best way to get his real 
attention and keep the bluster to a minimum." 
Mitchell grins, then spends the next few minutes 
very slowly refining the form as best he can; 
once as close to perfect as possible, with belt 
snugged to keep from any worse embarrassing 
moments, he nods. "Let him in. We may as well 
get this over with quickly."

-Mitchell-

<><><><><><>

[GM]

Mom says "Hold it! Are you crazy? That's NOT how 
to break this to your father...you almost gave 
ME a heart attack! You stay right here- don't 
you even move, Mitchell!"

She gets unsteadily to her feet and walks out of 
the room. You wait uneasily for almost fifteen 
minutes, until your parents both return. Your 
father has a skeptical frown on his face.

"All right Mitchell," he says. "You seem to have 
pulled off one hell of a stunt to fool your 
mother like that. Go ahead and show me this 
magic trick of yours. Then we'll discuss your 
punishment for disappearing all night."

You can't help grinning a little as you change 
shape again. Your father's eyes go wide for a 
moment. "Hey, that's very impressive. How did 
you do that?"

It takes a while, during which time your father 
even goes so far as to pull at your hair and 
your face (not very hard), before he's 
convinced. With a heavy thud, he sits down next 
to your mother.

"Jesus, Mitch. Your mother and I are BOTH going 
to take up smoking again."

You all stay silent for a while. Finally, your 
father says, "We have to have this investigated, 
you know. Things like this don't just happen. 
All that ESP nonsense you keep buying into 
doesn't explain someone being able to...to 
change into someone else. We have to have a 
doctor examine you, figure out what's happened 
to you. Maybe you've...been exposed to 
radiation, or chemical warfare experiments or 
something. You might be sick."

Mom frowns. "First we'd better figure out what 
happened to this girl. Julie. How do you think 
she felt, waking up alone in a strange house? 
Even if she didn't remember what happened. You 
owe her one HELL of an apology at the very 
least, Mitchell. We have to make sure she's all 
right."

<><><><><>

> You all stay silent for a while. Finally, your 
father says, "We
 > have to have this investigated, you know. 
Things like this don't
 > just happen. All that ESP nonsense you keep 
buying into doesn't
 > explain someone being able to...to change 
into someone else. We
 > have to have a doctor examine you, figure out 
what's happened to
 > you. Maybe you've...been exposed to 
radiation, or chemical warfare
 > experiments or something. You might be sick."

   "No, Dad. Psychic power does explain it, 
really. Its just that some people can move 
ashtrays across a table, while I move atoms 
around inside a body, changing it. Maybe it was 
radiation, or chemical warfare that _caused_ the 
ability, but I am not sick. The difference isn't 
in my body, I am pretty sure, since I can change 
it very extensively, and don't lose the power."
   "If we tell _any_ doctor or scientist, or 
anyone else, for that matter, they will at first 
think it's completely crazy, and then after 
proof will want to study me. My health will be 
the farthest thing from their minds."
   He gazes seriously at his father and mother. 
"If you tell anyone, I, and probably both of 
you, will wind up as thin slices on microscope 
slides, being studied to see how I do this. At 
the very least, none of us would ever be free 
again. If _you_ were in charge of national 
security, and learned of a shapeshifting 
creature walking around, _supposedly_ someone's 
son, would _you_ let it go free without years of 
study and interrogation?"
   "I'm all for alien contact, and I'm not sure 
I would. For more than one reason. Even if I 
didn't think it was an alien, I would want to 
know how to shapeshift, myself."
   "No doctors. Besides, think scientifically 
for a moment. I have been changing fairly 
frequently since discovering the ability, and 
have had no ill effects, even though once, I'm 
pretty sure I managed to make a major mess of my 
internal organs. If the ability were based on my 
body, I would have wrecked it severely by now. 
The ability is definitely mind over matter."
   "Second, even if you cannot yet accept the 
existence of such mental powers, think about the 
type of damage done by radiation or chemicals; 
genetic. A biological shapeshifting power, and 
any illness that came along with it, would be 
genetic. I'm no geneticist, but I can tell you 
for certain we don't have the ability to change 
someone's genetic code, yet. So if mine were 
messed up, no doctor would be able to fix it. 
Not even the best. This is totally beyond 
anything the world of today understands."
   "Third, if something goes wrong with my body, 
I can fix it by shapeshifting to a healthy 
state, I wager. I'm probably the healthiest 
person on the planet now."
   "No, I need a promise from you both that you 
will not tell anyone about this. You would be 
endangering my life, and yours."

 > Mom frowns. "First we'd better figure out 
what happened to this
 > girl. Julie. How do you think she felt, 
waking up alone in a
 > strange house? Even if she didn't remember 
what happened. You owe
 > her one HELL of an apology at the very least, 
Mitchell. We have to
 > make sure she's all right."

   Mitchell nods. "I know. I'm hoping she is at 
least back to original form, since her clothes 
were missing too. She probably could not have 
worn them in my body. Still, I'd better track 
her down to make certain. If she is still 
running around as me, I will have to figure out 
a way to revert her to normal, or if that's not 
possible, give her a good body of her choice. 
And that apology. I was really panicked. It's 
not that I was horrified by the switch, but more 
a matter of being shocked. Major shock. But, 
like they say, 'be careful what you wish 
for...you just might get it...unexpectedly'." He 
grins.

   An idea strikes him, his own words echoing 
through his mind. "Some people can move 
ashtrays..." he repeats aloud, inspiration 
coming. Tentatively, he takes his wallet out and 
places it on the floor in front of his chair. 
*If this doesn't work, at least they will be 
relieved a little,* he thinks, and stares at the 
wallet, concentrating, trying to make it lift 
into the air.

-Mitchell-

<><><><><>

[GM]

Nothing happens when you try to telekinetically 
move your wallet, except that Dad rolls his 
eyes.

"All right, it's about time for a reality check, 
son! You're always in need of a few, and just 
because now you can...do some weird thing 
doesn't mean the world is as weird and far-out 
as you think it is.

First of all, it's ridiculous to think just 
because you can do one thing that suddenly 
you're going to have every magic power you ever 
read about. I suppose next you'll be jumping off 
the roof to see if you can levitate?

Second, we are not living in some police state 
where men in black hats make people disappear. 
Oh, sorry, I forgot, the government has been 
hiding alien spaceships in a hangar and keeping 
little green men frozen in ice for years now, 
haven't they? And conducting ESP experiments to 
keep up with the Russians. And hiding Amelia 
Earheart and Elvis somewhere too, I'll bet.

You're making an awful lot of assumptions about 
what's going on. You've had this...power for a 
day now, and you've changed shape a few times 
and you assume because nothing's happened yet 
that everything is fine. What about long term 
damage? How do you know you can keep twisting 
your body around like that?"

Mom says, "All right, hold it, John. You're 
right, Mitch IS getting his head up in the 
clouds again...not that he doesn't have good 
reason this time. <sigh> But he does have a 
point; he'll attract a LOT of attention with 
that ability. Maybe we should keep it quiet."

Thinking, she says, "On the other hand, your 
best protection might be going public. If 
everyone knew about you, the government could 
hardly make you disappear into a laboratory, 
could they?"

Dad: "The government isn't going to dissect him! 
If anything, they'd probably want him to work 
FOR them! For that matter, look, an hour ago I'd 
have said this is impossible. Now that it 
obviously isn't, what are the chances that 
you're the ONLY one on Earth who can do this, 
huh, Mitch? I'd say chances are, there are 
others. We need to find them, and maybe they can 
explain what happened to you."

Mom: "First things first; we need to find Julie! 
Mitch, you get going! And come home as SOON as 
you've made sure she's all right! And do NOT go 
getting yourself into trouble! I know how your 
mind works, I know what kind of stunts you're 
thinking of, being able to make yourself look 
like someone else! That's something else we need 
to have a LONG talk about!"

<><><><><>

 > First of all, it's ridiculous to think just 
because you can do one
 > thing that suddenly you're going to have 
every magic power you ever
 > read about. I suppose next you'll be jumping 
off the roof to see if
 > you can levitate?

   Mitchell grins at his father, putting the 
wallet away. "It was worth a try."

 > Second, we are not living in some police 
state where men in black
 > hats make people disappear. Oh, sorry, I 
forgot, the government has
 > been hiding alien spaceships in a hangar and 
keeping little green
 > men frozen in ice for years now, haven't 
they? And conducting ESP
 > experiments to keep up with the Russians. And 
hiding Amelia
 > Earheart and Elvis somewhere too, I'll bet.

   "Dad, are you forgetting your basic daily CNN 
education? Our government _has_ conducted 
experiments on the population without its 
knowledge or consent, and probably continues to 
do so. There is a total budget of 
_eight_billion_ dollars per year, that goes into 
'black projects', blocked from the view of 
Congress, and the President. And they _are_ 
conducting ESP experiments to keep up with the 
Russians. It was on Primetime Live, and 20/20 
just a few months ago. Dad...a lot of things go 
on in the world that you do not believe in. Some 
things, that even _I_ probably would not easily 
believe."

 > Thinking, she says, "On the other hand, your 
best protection might
 > be going public. If everyone knew about you, 
the government could
 > hardly make you disappear into a laboratory, 
could they?"

   "They could just say I have fallen 
drastically ill, and have been taken in for 
emergency care. The best of care. Then I could 
just die; a freak of nature, amazing but short 
lived. Except they could keep me around for a 
few decades, prodding at my remains in a bottle 
of formaldahyde. If I go public, it had better 
not be with you two tied to me...they would do 
the same to you."

   "That's not paranoia. That's a fact of life. 
Humanity tries to destroy what it does not 
understand. Always. At least some segments of it 
do. We all three know that."

 > Dad: "The government isn't going to dissect 
him! If anything,
 > they'd probably want him to work FOR them! 
For that matter, look,
 > an hour ago I'd have said this is impossible. 
Now that it obviously
 > isn't, what are the chances that you're the 
ONLY one on Earth who
 > can do this, huh, Mitch? I'd say chances are, 
there are others. We
 > need to find them, and maybe they can explain 
what happened to
 > you."

   Mitchell nods. "There are others. There have 
to be. But they won't go around advertising it, 
either. Would _you_, Dad? If you could change 
your body at will? Dad...the decision of whether 
I keep it quiet or not has to be mine. It's my 
life that is most in jeopardy from it being 
discovered."

   "Whether you respect my beliefs or not, 
respect that. I will not seek medical advice or 
study. And neither of you can do it either."

 > Mom: "First things first; we need to find 
Julie! Mitch, you get
 > going! And come home as SOON as you've made 
sure she's all right!
 > And do NOT go getting yourself into trouble! 
I know how your mind
 > works, I know what kind of stunts you're 
thinking of, being able to
 > make yourself look like someone else! That's 
something else we need
 > to have a LONG talk about!"

   Mitchell nods seriously. "I'll go start the 
hunt. Don't worry, I'm not going to get into 
trouble. Much." He winks, standing.

   Without announcing anything unusual, just in 
hopes of shocking Dad's worldview, but not 
willing to set himself up for another failure in 
person, he walks toward the door, concentrating 
very intently on his father's joking suggestion; 
to levitate himself.

-Mitchell-

<><><><>

[GM]

No luck levitating...though you do feel 
SOMETHING.

Unfortunately, you didn't even get Julie's last 
name. (Boy, is Mom gonna be ashamed of you!) The 
only place you can think of looking for her is 
the club where you met. Not that she'll be there 
now, but maybe someone there knows who she is.

But the club isn't open this early. So it's kind 
of a waste of time. You lean on the door outside 
and think to yourself. A shadow falls over you, 
and you look up to see a very tall black woman 
standing over you. She looks kind of like a 
giant Grace Jones.

"What's Legion want with some scrawny kid like 
you?" she asks. "Oh well."

Her hand reaches out and grabs you by the 
throat. She lifts you off the ground as you gag. 
Hidden in the recess of the club entrance, no 
one can see you yet, but people are walking by, 
she certainly can't think she can kill you or 
drag you away without being seen.

SOMETHING IS INVADING YOU!

An alien presence is insinuating itself into 
your mind. You feel your body starting to merge 
with hers.

Then your body rebels, and you feel a war being 
fought under your skin.

Suddenly you are as tall as her. She stares at 
you. "Cute trick. Guess I'll have to beat you 
senseless first." Her foot lashes out, slamming 
into your midsection. You go through the heavy 
wood doors of the club, landing on the tiled 
floor of the entrance and skidding into the 
counter. Your head makes an impression in the 
base of the counter. You see long, black legs 
sticking out of your jeans, and notice your arms 
are black and muscular too. Like hers. She 
strides in, looking arrogant and confident. "I 
spent years developing that body," she says, 
looking down at you. "Get your own!"

<><><><>

   *Damn! An assimilator like Vulture in the 
Jack Chalker novels!* he thinks, dazedly.
   "Thanks -- I just did," he replies 
sarcastically, struggling to stand, while 
violently, desperately lashing out at her with 
the power of mind, imagining her as a ten year 
old, or unconscious, or _anything_ severely 
inconvenienced.
   If successful in getting up, Mitchell will 
keep trying to do something, anything, to her, 
avoiding physical contact, and not turning his 
back to her for an instant. "Let me guess," he 
pants, glancing about for something to use as a 
weapon, "you're from an elite mutant crime 
organization, here to take over my mind and body 
and absorb me into the group, intent on taking 
over the planet? Look, I've had _ENOUGH_ for one 
twenty four hour period!"
   "You try to absorb me again, and I swear I'll 
mangle your cells so bad you'll think your 
father was Seth Brindle!"

-Mitch-

<><><><><>

[GM]

"Say what?" she snarls at you. "Man, you read 
too many comic books!"

She lunges at you, as your attempt to 
do...something, fails. No new powers are 
conveniently manifesting at the moment. She 
grabs you, and you manage to pull away, then 
desperately, you swing at her. She ducks, and 
your fist plows into the wall behind her. Super-
strength! you exult. But she is used to this 
body and you're not. What's more, the way she 
moves makes it clear that she knows how to 
fight, while your combat experience is limited 
mostly to a few shoving matches in the locker 
room.

Before you can pull your arm free, she grabs 
your wrist and brings an elbow down on it. It 
snaps with a jolt of agonizing pain, and as you 
start to fall to your knees, she brings a knee 
up into your midsection. You go down and curl 
into a little ball, with one arm hanging at an 
obscene angle.

"I don't know who 'Seth Brindle' is," she says, 
"but the only one who's gonna get mangled here 
is you, punk!" She grabs you, and you try once 
more to do...something. This time you feel 
something pass from her to you. Energy of some 
sort. With a feral grin, she lifts you, and the 
grin falters a bit as she has to grunt with 
effort. She smacks you in the face, obviously 
meaning to send you flying, but only knocks you 
back, so that you fall over. The blow didn't 
hurt.

<><><><><>

*All right! I'm an energy drainer too!* "Did I 
mention I'm a life force vampire?" he inquires, 
trying his best to sound confident despite the 
arm, while attempting to stand. Quickly he 
paraphrases a line from an old movie, "I've just 
drained one year of your life away. Get lost or 
I'll take the rest!"
   Dodging any further blows, hoping the bluff 
was enough to help, he tries desperately to will 
the arm back into shape and health, or escape if 
there is opportunity.

-Mitch-

<><><><><>

[GM]

The black amazon scowls fiercely at you. "Oh 
yeah?"

With that witty comeback, she rushes you again. 
You find yourself moving much more agilely, 
while she seems a bit slower. Your arm still 
hurts like hell, though, and she still fights 
better than you. (Concentrating on trying to 
heal the arm produced a sudden blaze of agony, 
even worse than before, as if every nerve in 
that arm had been set on fire. You quickly 
desisted, deciding that you're in enough pain, 
and need all the concentration you can muster to 
survive this crazy woman.)

You succeed in clocking her one, which sends her 
flying into a table. Rising unsteadily to her 
feet, she growls "You did something to me all 
right. Guess I won't let you touch me again." 
But you have taken the opportunity to run, for 
the back exit. You slam through the door, 
marvelling at how your stolen strength shreds it 
like balsa-wood. And you keep running, down the 
alley behind the club, until you skid to a halt 
just before hitting the street. A quick glance 
over your shoulder shows she is not in 
pursuit...yet. But running out on the street, a 
tall, very distinctive-looking black woman 
wearing ill-fitting men's clothing, nursing a 
broken arm, might attract a bit of attention...

<><><><><>

*Got to escape, somewhere, somehow! Got to get 
this arm back into shape!*
   Mitchell looks wildly about, extremely 
panicked. *Gods and Goddesses, let this work.* 
Wildly, he concentrates in desperation on 
flying, locking onto that feeling he had in his 
earlier attempt, thinking of levitation, 
superman style flight, straining with all his 
might; then, if unsuccessful, crazedly, an idea 
strikes, and he alters his visualization to 
include angelic wings.
   If all this fails, he makes a mad dash around 
the building for his car, hoping no one new 
takes after him.

-Mitch-

<><><><>

[GM]

Once again, you feel something pulse inside you 
when you visualize yourself levitating. But 
again, nothing happens.

Trying to grow wings causes your shoulders to 
twitch and contort in a manner that sends 
shudders down your spine, literally and 
figuratively.

Finally, you sprint for your car. And soon you 
are driving down the street, looking desperately 
in the rear view mirror...but no one is 
following you.

//Dude!//

You hear a voice in your head, which causes you 
to almost spin into a bus. Barely, you regain 
control.

Then the cheerful male voice sounds again, 
speaking in a rush, like he's trying to spill 
out as much as he can in a very short time

//He'llbe back...watchoutCrap, 
someoneelse....damn, there's moreallover thecity 
now, what gives? The airport! Go to the airport, 
there's some chickwith 
blackhairjustgotinfromCheyenne go-!//

<><><><>


   *I like that voice a lot better than Grace 
Jones back there. Might as well.*

   Mitchell drives toward the airport, taking a 
round-about way to keep from being followed, and 
once there, takes a moment to shift back to 
Mitchell form, and try to get the arm into 
shape.

-Mitchell-

<><><><><><>

[GM]

Working on the arm proves to be excrutiatingly 
painful. You feel every nerve as it mends. Your 
bones and tendons knit together rapidly, but 
they burn like fire. You have to pull over and 
stop, hissing in breath, until your arm finally 
starts to feel normal again. Sweat soaks you 
when you begin driving again, this time as 
Mitchell. Well, you can't complain too much, 
since after all, most people would be wearing a 
cast for months. But that healing trick is 
definitely not something you'd want to try in 
the middle of a fight.

At the airport, you have a slight problem. "Some 
chick with black hair" narrows the possibilities 
down to a mere several thousand. As you might 
expect, there are no direct flights from 
Cheyenne to New York City. With a little 
searching, you find a connecting flight from 
Chicago, though there's no guarantee that your 
"quarry" is on it....for that matter, how 
reliable is anything you're going on?

But it's the only "lead" you've got, so you go 
to the exit terminal and wait. Several women 
with black hair emerge. There was no indication 
of age or appearance, so all you can do is 
guess. But one girl catches your 
attention...she's wearing a western-style 
outfit, and walks with a self-confident swagger 
that is betrayed by a slight limp. Particularly 
notable is a big, shiny belt buckle. She's 
holding a cigarette between her lips, glaring at 
the "No Smoking" signs and obviously impatient 
to get outside where she can light it up. But 
despite her aggressive posture, you sense some 
nervousness, as she scans this huge crowd, and 
the jumble and noise of New York City, just 
outside the gates.

<><><><><><>

*So I _can_ shapeshift back to health. Pretty 
painful, though.*
   Once he spots the nervous looking girl, he 
walks over casually. "Hi, uh," he thinks a 
moment, wondering what to say, "I received a 
kind of odd message to meet someone here. 
Someone just in from Cheyenne. I don't really 
know what is going on; but the past twenty four 
hours have been jam-packed with _really_ unusual 
surprises for me." He looks for her reaction, 
hopefully.

-Mitchell

<<<<Continued in "Meeting in New York City">>>>