NEW YORK CITY, PART TWO

BLOODY AFTERMATH

[Christine Tallin ("Crystal"), Tyler Sterrit and Mitchell 
Langstrom have just defeated the psychotic superwoman called 
"Lucretia" (real name Lucy Golden), in a bloody battle at 
what was supposed to be Crystal's press conference. With the 
hotel devastated, and numerous people injured or killed, the 
three new superhumans are left to pick up the pieces and 
decide what to do next....]

=====================================================

Crystal:

Crystal raises her arms to protect her face by reflex, and 
so she hears the sounds of the terrible blast but misses 
most of the horrific visuals.

She had been so very wrong thinking it was over, dropping 
her guard, and it was the mysterious woman with whatever 
power it was to... what?  *Create* things out of nowhere?  
She'd have to find out, if they...  After.  It was up to her 
to save them, because Crystal had been frozen in the moment 
of horror as Lucretia rose from the ground to attack again.

But, in the aftermath, she is the only one standing.  And so 
she must try to summon the courage to try once more to keep 
things calm, to help those who need it.

"Everyone stay clear.  Anyone with medical training, please 
try to do what you can.  I'm sure there'll be help here 
soon.  Everyone try to stay calm and do what you can.  I 
think the worst is over.

"I... I'm sorry I brought you all here to this."

She turns then, knowing that they won't be able to see what 
she feels in her cold, crystal features, but not wanting to 
see the faces.  She heads toward the woman who saved her, 
saved them all, and crouches beside her, trying to see if 
she's hurt or just exhausted by whatever it was she had 
done.

<><><><><>

[GM]

The young woman (about your age, looks like) is stunned, 
possibly in shock.... but aside from some minor burns on her 
hands doesn't seem to be injured. Her eyes start to focus 
after a moment.

That huge rifle is lying on the ground next to her, still 
buzzing for a few seconds, before the noise shuts off. A 
bright red light is flashing on the side of the stock.

Police begin cautiously moving into the foyer, weapons out. 
Some begin helping the injured out (one hysterical woman 
lost a hand to one of the ricocheting shells, a young man is 
in shock as one grazed his side), while others approach you, 
very cautiously. More are approaching the two Lucretias 
lying at the side of the battle area- one bloody and mangled 
almost beyond recognition, the other bloody and mangled but 
still identifiable, especially since "she" is still wearing 
the clothes that the young man was wearing, and her mohawk, 
rather than being Lucretia's garish purple, is a dingy 
blonde.

<><><><><>

Tyler:

"Oh mannnn..." Tyler groaned, and essayed sitting up. She 
still felt like the remnants of a week of no sleep, and her 
blistered hands were starting to clamor for attention. 
"S***, that hurts. Remind me to get some asbestos gloves 
before ah try that ridiculous lens trick again."  She pushed 
the bulky mass of her dark, disarrayed hair out of her face,  
and looked curiously at Crystal. "Hey. Y'all okay?  
Where's...ummm...you know. Did ah, umnmm, ah mean, is 
she...?"
 
She craned her neck, trying to see everywhere at once. She 
noticed the huge weapon beside her, and shook her head. 
"Jesus f***in'  Christ. That is some gun. Ah'm gonna have to 
hit the weights."

<><><><><>

Crystal:

"I'm fine... I guess."  Crystal smiles, and light sparkles 
on the countless facets of her face.  "How are *you*?  You 
passed out right after you... took care of her.  You saved a 
lot of people's lives.  Including mine.  I don't know how 
you did any of that, but it managed to do the trick when I 
couldn't.
 If you ever need aything..."

The sound of the police arriving distracts Crystal, and she 
turns to them, holding her arms out to appear as harmless as 
possible.

"We're going to need a lot of medical help.  Too many people 
are hurt, but I think it's over for now.  She's..."

It's then that she sees the second Lucretia and remembers.  
She points down toward him.

"Someone needs to help him.  He tired to help stop her, then 
started changing into her, somehow.  I think she could have 
really hurt him, and I don't know how his... changing... 
will affect him."

She doesn't let herself think about her own condition yet.  
First the people who need help, then she can deal with her 
own condition.  She'll make it until she changes back, 
surely...

<><><><><>

[GM]

Among the chaos of police officers and journalists and 
paramedics, Crystal sees a familiar face; Agent Donnay, the 
federal agent who drove her to the hospital after the last 
debacle with Lucretia. He makes his way towards you, shaking 
his head.

"I told Whittacker that Golden is the persistent type," he 
says. "But they wanted Little back at HQ, said Golden could 
just as easily go anywhere in the world as stay in New York 
City. We've got some more metahumans on the way, I hope. 
Although," he looks at Lucretia's bloody carcass, "it looks 
like all that's left now is the cleanup." He shudders and 
says "I hope they wrap the bitch in concrete and drop her 
into a volcano."

The female in question is being stuffed into a body bag, by 
police officers wearing rubber gloves. As they pick up the 
severed arm, Donnay calls out "Hey! Bag that separately, 
I'll want to take it with me!" To Crystal and the still 
somewhat dazed Tyler, he says "Actually, they'll probably 
want the whole body brought back to Virginia. Speaking of 
which," he looks at Tyler, and the Lucretia-clone whom 
paramedics are very cautiously trying to revive, "why don't 
you introduce me to your friends, Ms. Tallin?" And his eyes 
also fall on Tyler's huge weapon, and he kneels to pick it 
up, examining it with great interest.

<><><><><>

Crystal:

Crystal tries to smile when she sees Donnay, but it doesn't 
quite work. There's too much blood an destruction around her 
for that.

"It's 'Crystal' now, Agent Donnay.  At least when I'm... 
like this."

Though she hopes she won't be 'like this' often.  Her 
perfect uniform is in tatters, burned and torn away, 
exposing only more shimmering crystal.

"And I'd love to introduce you, but I'm afraid we didn't 
have time for names just now."

She turns, then, toward Tyler and offers her hand.  She 
manages the smile Agent Donnay didn't quite get.

"Christine Tallin.  Crystal in the press...  and Chris to my 
friends."

<><><><><>

Tyler:
	
	"Hell! Ah'm sorry. Where're mah manners? Tyler 
Sterritt." She clasped Crystal's hand and pumped vigorously, 
apparently unaffected by the burns. "Mah pleasure. Listen, 
ah feel bad for the kid there.  Name's Mitchell Langstrom. 
He was tryin' one of his cutesy little tricks on the bimbo 
yonder, only it didn't work out. Ah hope y'all can manage to 
put him back together again."

	**As all-fired cute as he was before,** she added. But 
not aloud.

	"Ah guess, question is, how much trouble are we gonna 
be in?  This heroine stuff is all kinda new to me, and ah 
don't reckon ah want to spend a few years *en la carcel* for 
lightin' up that Industrial Strength tommygun." 

	As she talked, Tyler walked around gingerly, testing 
everything;   though her almost invisible limp was slightly 
less than invisible at first, after she'd walked a few 
circles, rolled her neck, and shaken out her arms, she 
pronounced herself fit.  

	The woman who'd pulled all this off was a relatively 
unlikely savior. She was wiry, narrow-hipped, small-breasted 
and possessed of a boyish loose-limbed gait and a slight 
degree of bowleggedness. She wore fitted Wranglers, a dusty 
and blood-splattered black western shirt with a colorful 
yoke, and had blackrimmed Serengheti drivers tilted 
awkwardly up on her head, the rims slightly askew from an 
unnoticed blow.  Her thick mid-back-length crush-permed hair 
was sadly tousled, though it had probably once been an 
example of carefully crafted disarray. She had a heavily 
tooled black leather belt with gold lace, clasped with a 
real silver and gold buckle the size of Lake Superior that 
bore the stylized insignia 'PRCA World Champion Barrel 
Racer'; she also wore black lizard handmade Charlie Dunn's 
with gold tips and heel caps, into which her jeans were 
tucked.

	"Mind if ah smoke?" She pulled a somewhat crushed pack 
of Winstons and an expensive gold lighter out of one pocket, 
and lit up after offering the battered pack around.

<><><><><>

Crystal:

Crystal matches Tyler's handshake with a strong, cold grip 
that isn't flesh. For all her friendly smiles and kind 
voice, she doesn't look more than nominally human and her 
skin is cool, hard glass.  Her features, which may seem 
smooth from a distance, are made up of hundreds, thousands, 
of tiny facets, each perfect flat and shar-edged despite the 
illusion of soft curves they create.

And she watches as Tyler rushes off to the side of her 
injured friend. Mitchell, she'd said.  He'd done something 
Crystal had been more than a little afraid to do, standing 
up directly to Lucretia, and he'd been hurt for it.  
Probably badly.

Maybe not as badly as you, though, she thinks and holds her 
arm up to the light, studying the fine network of stress 
markings and minor fractures that could become... well, 
anything when she changes back to herself.

She'd have to get to a hospital before  that happened.

Some first impression she'd made on the public.  How would 
she ever get her name separated from all the blood of a day 
like this?  It would take a lot of work, and not just from 
her...

"Pardon me, Agent Donnay, but I have to talk to someone 
right away.  It shouldn't take too long."

And she turns away, barely waiting for a reply, to look for 
her recently hired lawyer among the crowd.  He had to be all 
right, she thinks, knowing that to be anything but true but 
comforted for a moment by the idea that someone, anyone, 
could have been 'all right' in the midst of all this chaos.

<><><><><>

[GM]

Agent Donnay smiles faintly. "No, I don't think we're going 
to arrest you," he says to Tyler. Then, looking at the 
devestated hotel lobby, he adds "I wouldn't be so sure about 
dodging lawsuits, though. You realize you sprayed those 
bullets into another wing of the hotel, across the 
courtyard? Where did you get this thing, anyways?"

Meanwhile, Mitchell is slowly coming around, conscious once 
more of the searing agony in his wrist, added to the 
throbbing pain in his jaw. It doesn't hurt as much as the 
instant before he blacked out, but it's enough to cause him 
to shudder and push away at the nearest paramedic....which 
sends the man sprawling across the floor, ten feet away. 
Immediately they jump back, alert, and a dozen police 
officers point their guns at the newly awakened "Lucretia".

<><><><><>

Tyler:

	Tyler rolled her eyes. "Hell, ah didn't spray anything 
anywhere.  Those bullets went pretty much went wherever they 
wanted...well, after the first few, anyhow. Guess ah could 
have let the woman kill every guest they had; y'all reckon 
that would've made the concierge more cheerful?

	"And as to where ah got that gun...honey, y'all's 
guess is purt'  near good as mine. If ah knew that, and 
y'all had a feather up your...well, anyway, then we'd both 
be tickled." 

	She started when the police reacted to the converted 
Lucretia's behavior. "Hey!" she said, hustling over. "Y'all 
take it easy, a'right? Mitchell...Mitchell, honey. Y'all got 
to suck it up an'  turn you'self back, okay?" 

	She was using much the same tone of voice anyone would 
use to chide their favorite pet for coughing up a hairball 
on the floor.  "Y'all are makin' these people mad, and 
besides, ah don't like the way y'all look near as much. Come 
on, honey. Be nice, and turn y'all's self back."

<><><><><>

Mitchell:

   Mitchell shudders, sighing. "Don't shoot, I'm peaceful," 
he whispers, trying to avoid moving the jaw. He brightens 
slightly at Tyler's familiar face. "Yeah, I'm getting kinda 
sick of this face, sure don't wanna see it in the mirror."

   Mitchell concentrates on returning to his own form and 
then on regenerating, mentally preparing for the renewed 
pain it will cause. *Everybody's trying to tear my arms off 
these days,* he thinks mournfully.

<><><><><>

[GM]

The police and paramedics gape as "Lucretia's" features melt 
and twist, and she quickly becomes a very handsome, dark-
haired (male) teenager.

For Mitchell, there is no doubt; in your own body, the pain 
is MUCH worse, almost enough to make you black out again. 
You almost try to stop and turn back to Lucretia- but it 
doesn't work.

The spectators stare again as Mitchell's crushed wrist and 
shattered jaw bulge, the mangled, bloody flesh rippling as 
if invisible hands were smoothing it over like clay. 
Mitchell's teeth clench together (increasing the pain) and 
sweat breaks out all over his body, until he is no longer 
able to hold back a howl of agony. As everyone watches, his 
injuries seem to heal at miraculous speed, fading until only 
an angry red splotch on his jaw and a large bruise on his 
wrist mark where he was maimed only a minute ago. Of course, 
he is still covered with blood.

Mitchell lies on the ground trembling, utterly exhausted.

<><><><><>

Tyler:

	Tyler almost laughed with relief as Mitchell reformed 
in a considerably improved version of himself. "Jesus, 
Mitchell. You're like Tina Turner; y'all don't do nothin' 
*nice...and easy*. Jus' take it easy, all right? we did the 
dirty, an' saved a few bazillion innocent bystanders in the 
process. Oh...and I sorta shot the hotel to doll rags. 
Accidentally. Just...pretend y'all don't notice, 'case the 
building inspectors an' insurance 'justors show up."
	She plopped down beside him on the floor, and managed 
a couple of deep drags on her Winston. "Boy, I tell you 
what; y'all sure know how to show a girl a good time. What 
y'all got planned for an encore; an earthquake?"

<><><><><>

Mitchell:

   Trembling and tired, Mitchell sighs, smiling up at Tyler. 
"I guess there are advantages to being a bit like a living 
cartoon," he muses aloud. "You get to snap back after the 
steamroller goes over you." He grins, looking about at the 
carnage. "I think the insurance adjustors will need to make 
special policies for hero-villain confrontations."
   "Lets see...an encore...I guess we could go find Godzilla 
and be stepped on a few times, _then_ experience the 
earthquake, in Tokyo. Or we could sleep for a day or two." 
Mitchell laughs quietly, winking. "I pick unconsciousness, 
about you?"

   Mitchell stays relaxed, resting. "I guess we just made 
our big debut as superheroes and superheroines." He grins 
wider. "For me, both. What'll we call ourselves?"

<><><><><>

Tyler:

	Tyler snorted. "What'll we call ourselves? Hell, ah 
don't even know what ah *do*, let alone what ah ought to be 
called. And after the way that bi*** booted th'three of us 
around, I think maybe Moe,  Larry and Curly ought to serve 
jus' fine."  She stubbed out her cigarette. "Tell you what 
ah *feel* like; ah *feel* like a pack rat.  How you reckon 
that sounds, for a heroic name, eh? Pack Rat."  One corner 
of her mouth turned up in a sardonic grin. "Or maybe 
Handygirl, 'cept that sounds a little like some all-purpose 
kitchen utensil, you know?" 

	Her grin turned full force; she was getting a kick out 
of the subject. "How about y'all? Change-o-matic? Clono?" 
She laughed.   "*That* sounds like a bowl cleaner. 
Okay...Mystery Man! There it is;   Handygirl and the Mystery 
Man. Ah reckon if it all went sour, we could form a hip-hop 
group."

<><><><><>

Mitchell:


   Mitchell laughs quietly, grinning. "Yeah, all right. 
Handygirl and Mystery. Sounds good to me." He slowly sits 
up, wincing. "Oof. May be able to bounce back from maiming, 
but I'm not well. Mystery Man does not live by battling 
villains alone."

<><><><><>

Tyler:

"Well, Handygirl could use a drink, for that matter. 
Whattaya say let's get outta here." Tyler jumped to her 
feet, and then offered Mitchell a hand. "We can stop off and 
say somethin' to that Crystal lady. She's pretty nice, and 
maybe she'd want to sit and talk a little after she's all 
rested from this rumble."

<><><><><>

Mitchell:

Mitchell carefully stands, still wobbly. "Sure, lets go talk 
to her, then get out of the rubble and somewhere nice, 
comfortable, and intact."

<><><><><>

[GM to Crystal]

You find Berlowitz just outside, looking stunned but 
unharmed.

"My God! Christine, you- are you all r-" he stops, shaking 
himself as if dazed. He peers at you and says "You 
look....broken."

<><><><><>

Crystal:

"You must be hurt," Crystal says with a laugh in her oddly 
inhuman voice, "because I'm sure you know better than ever 
telling a lady she looks anything but her best."

She smiles, then leans closer to speak more privately.

"I think I might be hurt.  I don't know, because I can't 
feel anything like pain...  but my wrist last night was 
nothing beside this.  I think I should be in a hospital 
before I even think about changing back...  But I'm 
wondering what I can do about this mess first.  I'm not sure 
if I'm ready for interviews..."

<><><><><>

[GM]

Berlowitz nods and wipes his forehead with a handkerchief. 
"I'm afraid this will put a....dent in your publicity." Only 
a modest understatement, you think. "The best idea right now 
is for you to get away from the press, try to recover a bit, 
and I'll prepare a quick statement for them, to the effect 
that you're all right but were injured trying to stop that 
maniac. That government agent....Donnay? You seemed to know 
him. And he seemed to know about the...the superwoman. I 
want to find out just how much the government knew about 
this, so we can blame them before you start to absorb flack 
for this incident. And those two people that helped you, we 
should talk to them too."

<><><><><>

Crystal:

Crystal nods in agreement as Berlowitz offers his advice.

"I have a friend flying over from California.  I think he'll 
help me deal with this, if anyone can."

She glances at Agent Donnay, then back to her lawyer.

"You're right.  I didn't have any idea she'd be recovered 
from last night and still after me, but he seemed to expect 
it.  It would have saved a lot of pain if he'd told me 
that."

She was about to take the opportunity to find out just what 
other things the government knew but hadn't been sharing 
when she was interrupted.

<><><><><>

Tyler:

	Crystal felt, rather than heard, the two approach: 
Tyler and the somewhat shaky young man who'd until recent 
minutes been a damaged copy of the madwoman. 
	"Hey," she murmured. 'Scuse us for interruptin', but 
we're gonna try and oil out of here in a minute, and I...we, 
ah mean...kinda wanted to talk to you, 'fore we left. Y'all 
got a minute?"

<><><><><>

Crystal:

She turns to Tyler and a worried expression melts back into 
a slight but friendly smile.

"Of course I do.  I think it's only because of you two that 
I have any minutes at all left."

She pauses before offering her hand to Mitchell, looking for 
the injury he'd suffered so recently and seeing it gone.

"Mitchell, wasn't it?  Chris Tallin.  And I'm jealous if you 
really did manage to put your hand back together while I 
wasn't looking.  She did something like that to me yesterday 
and my wrist is still messed up."

She holds up her wrist, which is marked by a fine network of 
fractures and stress markings.  Much like the rest of her.

"I'm sort of hoping I recover more quickly than I used to, 
because I think today was a whole lot worse than last 
night."

Light glimmers off her as she shudders slightly, then 
glances down and notices how tattered her costume has 
become.  She'd be showing quite a bit of skin if she 
actually had any...

"Look, I'd really like a chance to talk about all of this 
with you both. This whole thing with the strange powers and 
all.  Can we go up to my room for some privacy, perhaps?"

<><><><><>

Mitchell:

   Mitchell nods. "I had a run-in with someone who broke my 
arm almost in half earlier this morning. I guess its like in 
those sci-fi movies, where the creature regenerates or 
something. Or like starfish. I knew I'd probably get messed 
up, when I went after that...whatever she was."
   "Sure, we really need to talk with someone else in 
basically the same situation as we are," he agrees.

<><><><><>

Tyler:

Tyler glanced briefly at Mitchell, her expression one of 
pleasant surprise.  "Absolutely,' she replied. "That'd be 
perfect." 

She nodded slightly in the general direction of the two men, 
then withdrew to wait for Crystal.

<><><><><>

Crystal:

"Good.  Wait upstairs, I shouldn't be long.  Just one person 
I need a moment with."

And she turns and heads back to the side of Agent Donnay, 
reaching to lightly grip his arm.  There are hints of 
confusion in her voice, an almost desperate edge.

"Agent Donnay, I've been thinking...  I don't understand 
what just happened, it's just too...  Who could do something 
like this?  Do you know *anything* about her that might make 
this all make sense?"

<><><><><>

[GM]

Donnay laughs, a hard, bitter laugh. "Make sense of her? How 
do you make sense of a psychopath?"

He looks at you, taking in your shattered form, and says 
"You're luckier than most metahumans she went after. She 
killed at least four, that we know of. Plus a planeful of 
people which she probably killed just to get at one 
metahuman who was aboard. That's our assumption, anyways, 
though considering that she killed people who whistled at 
her, people who bumped into her, people who were sitting 
where she wanted to sit....hell, maybe she ripped the wings 
off that plane just for fun."

"She was crazy, and I'm glad you killed her, because God 
knows what we would have done with her if you hadn't. 
There's certainly no prison that could have held her, and 
keeping her unconscious might have proven difficult. Not to 
mention there'd undoubtedly be a lawyer from the ACLU 
claiming 'cruel and unusual'."

Glancing in the direction of Tyler and Mitchell, Donnay says 
"I overheard you planning to get together with those two in 
your hotel room. I'll be up in a bit to talk to them as 
well. If you don't mind. You realize, of course, that there 
are other crazies out there, and Golden wasn't even the most 
powerful one?"

<><><><><>

Crystal:

"I wish you'd told me that last night, Agent Donnay.  I had 
no idea..."

Crystal has been trying not to look at the chaos around her, 
at the destruction, blood and pain still evident even as 
emergency workers try to deal with the worst of it.  But she 
has to now, and she pauses.

Looks around as she hears his words.

Then looks at him, locking her crystalline eyes directly on 
his, sparks of light dancing in hers independent of any 
reflection.  And then she continues in a quiet voice.  But 
one that carries, strong and distinctive in its vaguely 
mechanical sound, far beyond the immediate conversation.

"I didn't kill anyone, Agent Donnay.  And if you're really 
looking for someone to call what you and the others who kept 
this, all of this, secret until it was too late to deal with 
it without blood "cruel and unsual," you don't have to look 
very far.

"I don't think you should come to my room."

And she turns sharply and walks away, each step falling in 
careful, measured time as she tries to count high enough to 
make it past her reaction to Donnay's words.

<><><><><>

[GM]

"Hey, wait a minute-" Agent Donnay says indignantly, but 
Crystal walks on, and he elects not to follow.

<><><><><>

Tyler:

"Hell, ah'm glad to know we've got that teamwork thing down 
pat,"  Tyler jibed. "Always good to pull together whenever 
somethin' like that Lucretia whateverhernameis crops up. The 
Feds make me ever so much more eager to do mah civic duty 
an' help out."

Tyler and Mitchell had started upstairs in a vague, 'where 
exactly are we goin'?' kind of fashion, and Crystal's loud 
exchange had captivated their attention enough so that they 
didn't get that far along. It was easier to hook up and 
follow her now.

"Listen, that supergun is permanent, so far as ah know. 
Y'all reckon ah ought to take it along with me, or leave it 
around for the law dogs to fool around with? Ah guess you 
*could* say it's mine, after a fashion."

<><><><><>

Crystal:

Tyler's question does manage to get Crystal's attention.  
She pauses for a moment, then nods.

"I'd say you should get it back, if you can."  Her words 
were more quiet now, private among the small group.  "But I 
don't think They'll make it easy."

The capital letter was obvious, almost spat out.

"I need to get out of here.  Mitchell and I can wait in the 
room for you."

She almost seems ready to turn and continue on, but she 
pauses to make sure this is the sort of plan Tyler will 
agree to.

<><><><><>

Mitchell:

   "I don't know, can we carry it?" Mitchell asks. "It 
looked like a major handful, but I guess if we could get it 
to the truck, it would work out there pretty well."
   "I'm still not ready to let my identity totally out of 
the proverbial bag; it might be dangerous for my folks," he 
whispers.

<><><><><>

Crystal:

"You'd better come with me, then," Crystal says as Tyler 
heads off.  "The shock is wearing off and they'll remember 
they're reporters soon.  There'll be no privacy at all when 
that happens, no matter what you want."

She looks to find her lawyer, to make certain he knows they 
are going, then heads on to her room.

<><><><><>

Mitchell:

   Mitchell follows crystal, sighing. "Has _anyone_ ever had 
so strange a week as us, I wonder?" he mutters. "The whole 
planet has gone weird. Its got to be aliens or angels or 
demons or something like that. This kind of thing only 
happens when they're involved, in the movies. I kinda doubt 
it's pollution or radiation."

<><><><><>

Crystal:

"Well," Crystal says as she waits for the elevator, "I do 
know one thing. This isn't the movies."

She doesn't turn to look at Mitchell and the strange tint of 
her voice gives it an even more misty quality than she might 
have intended.

<><><><><>

Tyler:

Tyler got the room number from Crystal, and waded back into 
the throng to retrieve her exotic weapon. What she was going 
to do if someone resisted her removing it was anybody's 
guess. 

<><><><><>

[GM]

Agent Donnay is still down there, and seems pleased at your 
arrival. You notice two other agents are wrapping your gun 
in a large plastic bag.

In response to your inquiry, he replies calmly "Yes, let's 
discuss that. We would really like to know more about how 
you got that weapon. And we could certainly use something 
that will stop bulletproof metahumans ourselves. I'm sure we 
can come to an agreeable solution. We're not going to take 
anything from you without reimbursement. But, I must point 
out, for damn sure you don't have a license for that thing, 
and we're not about to let you wander around in New York 
City carrying your own personal artillery."

<><><><><>

Tyler:

	Tyler didn't seem fazed. "Well, to tell you the truth, 
there's prob'ly a lot o' you guys coulda waved that big 
sucker around better'n me. And done less damage to the 
hotel, at the least. If y'all can duplicate it, and make it 
work right, more power to ya. As to how ah got it...hell, 
like ah said, y'all's guess is as good as mine right now. Ah 
was hopin' that maybe Crystal or some of the more 
'sperienced...hell,  what do y'all call weirdos these days?  
Metahumans? Anyway, ah was hopin' maybe somebody else could 
shed a little light on the subject for me. 

	"Now...ah can't say I want t'make a habit out of bein' 
a vigilante. But ah'd be happy to fill y'all in soon's ah 
got some better idea what's happenin'. That okay? Ah don't 
have the same innate distrust of law enforcement that some 
of y'all's stranger acquaintances seem to."

<><><><><>

[GM]

Agent Donnay says "We've been doing metahuman research for 
almost a year. We haven't had that many volunteers to study, 
but we've learned a great deal from those we have. There are 
top scientists in every field at our research facility. We 
can always use more friendly metahumans, both for research 
and to help us deal with psychos like Lucretia. And we *do* 
pay, quite well. Not to mention, you'd have the government's 
help in dealing with certain-" he waves a hand at the 
carnage around you "-legal problems." Lowering his voice, he 
says "Several people were badly injured, possibly fatally, 
by bullets from your gun. They went all the way through the 
hotel. A good lawyer may be able to get you cleared of any 
criminal charges, though *we* could probably make such 
charges just disappear. Civil suits are another matter. But 
agents working for us are covered for all such incidental 
expenses, by Uncle Sam."

<><><><><>

Tyler:

	"Incidental expenses...?" Tyler felt her stomach churn 
at the thought of having hurt...

	**no, don't lie to yourself. It isn't going to go 
away...**

	...of having *killed* innocent people. She could 
intellectualize it as self-defense; that Lucretia bitch had 
been a nightmare on wheels, and would have happily killed 
everyone in the room, but that didn't make it any better. 

	Her hands were shaking so badly that she almost 
couldn't light up a cigarette. "S***," she said, pithily, 
and held her hand out before her,  watching it quiver, 
cheeks flushed in embarrassment. "God damn, look at that. 
Listen, ah don't know if ah'm cut out for this.  All ah ever 
wanted to do was rodeo, you know? Until a couple days ago, 
it was just rehab and then rodeo. Now..."

	She smoked quietly for a minute, pale blue eyes 
staring off into the distance. "Ah guess y'all got more 
problems than just me, if there's more loonies like than 
woman out runnin' around. But ah got to say, ah ain't 
'zack'ly a professional. Ah was damn' lucky, no two ways 
about it, and y'all got to understand, ah'm still tryin' to 
learn about me. If it hadn't been for Mitchell, ah'd prob'ly 
still be in a Canadian rehab center, liftin' weights and 
gettin' drunk nights."

She flicked ashes on the floor. "He's a good boy. Man. 
Whatever. And he's pretty smart; figured out a lot of what 
ah can do, and his own shtick, too. All right. Let's cutr to 
the chase:  y'all got a business card? Y'all talkin' a full 
time position here, or is this..." she waved her hand about 
with a touch of black humor, "...is this piece work?"

<><><><><>

[GM]

Donnay nods and says "Most metahumans manifest under 
rather...traumatic circumstances, and they usually take a 
while to get a handle on their abilities. Of course, those 
working with us have the help of a team of scientists, 
already somewhat familiar with these powers, and a facility 
where we can test the range of your abilities. Our 
metahumans probably have a great headstart over those that 
keep struggling on their own. Of course," he sighs and looks 
at the destruction around you, "some have powers which are 
pretty straightforward."

"We're certainly willing to work with you on whatever basis 
you'd like, but naturally we'd like to offer you a full time 
job with us. Believe me, the benefits package is better than 
you'd get in any other government job where you don't have 
to be elected first."

"And you don't necessarily have to be a combat field agent. 
We need those, of course, against people like 
Lucretia....but whatever your abilities might be, we can 
find a use for them."

[Note: The government is trying to recruit you because 
that's what they do, and they'll try to recruit any 
metahuman they meet. However, I am NOT trying to "push" you 
into that role. You can end up working for them, if it suits 
Tyler, but don't think this is what you're "supposed" to do 
because you think the GM wants it. I am not relying either 
on your accepting or refusing their offer- there will be 
plenty of trouble for Tyler whatever she does. <g>]

<><><><><>

Tyler:

	Tyler nodded thoughtfully. "Ah reckon it all sounds 
pretty invitin'...and to be honest, if ah elect to continue 
makin' use of my particular weirdness, ah believe ah'd be a 
fool NOT to accept your offer. After tonight, ah suspect 
it's one of the few places left where you can actually do 
some good for your country. And not worry about accident 
insurance. Still...ah hope y'all can understand that this is 
somethin' ah need to consider. Y'all have a business card? 
Is it considered good manners to call up and ask for a job, 
with no resume?"

	She flashed him a thin smile, and stubbed out her 
cigarette.

<><><><><>

[GM]

Donnay smiles and says, "You know, with all the metahumans 
that have been appearing lately, we probably *should* have 
business cards. In the meantime," he pulls out a notepad and 
writes down a phone number, "call this number anytime. Just 
give them your name. And if you happen to lose it, go to the 
nearest FBI office, and they'll route you to us pretty 
quick."

<><><><><>

Tyler:

Tyler stuffed the phone number in her pocket. "Thanks."  She 
hesitated,  then stuck out her hand. "Like to say it's been 
a pleasure, but ah don't 'magine it has. Ah'll call y'all, 
either way.  No reason for y'all to be left hangin'."

She squeezed his hand briefly, then headed up to join the 
others.

************************************************************
************************

CRYSTAL'S ROOM


Crystal leads Mitchell to her room, an expensive suite among 
many others like it.  She pauses just inside the room, 
closing her eyes and simply breathing deeply for a long 
moment.

Then she speaks.

"Turn on the television.  We'll need to see how the news is 
carrying this. CNN should have something by now.  I need to 
change clothes."

She reaches into the closet, selecting and outfit and taking 
it with her into the bathroom.  It takes long minutes before 
she returns.

Many of those minutes spent in silent contemplation of the 
sight in the huge mirror.  She had chosen jeans and a full 
shirt to hide the fractures that webbed her form, but 
changing into them she had no choice but see the extent of 
her injuries.

But, eventually, she covers that with her clothing and steps 
back out.  With the curve-hugging jeans and long-sleeved 
top, her strangely alien form is almost unnoticeable, except 
that her face is still shimmering crystal.  She smiles a 
somewhat forced smile and looks at Mitchell.

"Find anything on the news?"

<><><><><>

[GM]

Mitchell finds that CNN is indeed running coverage of the 
battle in the hotel. So far, no names have been mentioned, 
but they are reporting that the same two superhumans who 
fought the previous night in another hotel had a showdown 
that left several people dead or injured. There are also 
rumors that other superhumans were involved. Live footage of 
the battle is promised soon. At this time, it appears that 
the mad superwoman who attacked both times is now dead.

Live footage from outside the hotel shows police and some of 
Agent Donnay's men holding back reporters, though they can't 
do anything about the reporters who are already inside.

Someone knocks on the door. Mitchell expects Tyler, but it's 
a large, middle-aged man that Crystal identified earlier as 
her lawyer, Mr. Berkowitz. He waits until Crystal emerges 
from the bathroom in her "normal" clothes, and says "It 
would probably be best for you to go to another hotel- 
reporters will get hold of the registry and find out which 
room you're in. They're likely to be up here any time now." 
At this point, Tyler comes up behind him.

<><><><><>

Mitchell:

   "We'd better get out of here," Mitchell agrees. "I'll 
sneak out to my car..." he lowers his voice. "Lets meet 
somewhere tomorrow, the three of us, to talk this over. I've 
got to rest, and spend the early part of tomorrow fixing a 
mistake of mine. Maybe 2:00 PM tomorrow, near the statue of 
liberty? It would give us time to recover, take care of 
errands, and make certain the reporters are lost before we 
collect again."
   "I can't let those reporters get any more than they may 
have on me from videotaping; I've got superpowered people 
after me. Something called Legion. Relatives could get hurt 
if anyone knows my true identity, corny as that sounds. I'm 
out of here -- I'll be at the statue at 2:00 tomorrow. I can 
recognize your vehicle for sure, Tyler." He grins. "Take 
care, I'll see you tomorrow. If anything keeps you tied up, 
I'll check back there every day at 2:00. Or come looking for 
you." He winks.

<><><><><>

Tyler:

	"Evenin'."  Tyler glanced curiously at the attorney, 
then came on in. "Feds're sellin' memberships. All things 
considered, it wasn't a bad offer; ah think ah might take 
'em up on it, in some fashion.    Consultant, maybe. 
Armorer; hell, who knows. 'Course, as a private citizen, you 
can always say 'no thanks' if the bad guy is too tough,    
but that's kinda wussy, you know? Personally, ah kinda like 
the pressure of the big time."

	She wandered around a moment, admiring the facility 
and eventually fetching herself a glass of water, after 
which she settled into a chair. "Y'all mind if ah smoke?" 
She took a drink, fished a mismatched pair of pills from her 
shirt pocket, and downed them with another swallow of water. 

	A sigh of relief. She lipped a Winston out of her pack 
while she listened to Mitchell's media and security 
complaint. "Sure. How about up on the observation deck, or 
whatever they call it? Ah kinda need to talk to Crystal 
tonight...that is, if she can stand my company. Ah promise 
not to drop a dime on you with the media boys, Mitch."

<><><><><>

Crystal:

Crystal is silent as Tyler talks about accepting the 
government's offer and what she thinks in means, but her 
face shows just what she thinks of the decision.

"It's a non-smoking floor," she observes flatly, then 
listens to Mitchell.

"We will have to split up.  I can't hide very well like 
this, and I don't think I should turn back until I can be 
sure it's safe.  But Mr. Berkowitz is right, we do have to 
vanish or the press will be all over us.  And I... don't 
think we're ready for that yet."

She stuffs her tattered costume into a shoulderbag, a change 
of clothes and a few other personal items as well.  She very 
pointedly does not look toward any of the mirrors in the 
room.

<><><><><>

Tyler:

"Whoa," Tyler said, managing a crooked grin. "Scuse-ay-mwah. 
Sounds like ah trod on somebody's toes with that Feds 
thing." She carefully removed the cigarette and tapped it 
back into the pack. 

Tyler didn't have the same resentment or concern for the 
press that the others did; she'd been through the mill after 
her accident, and before that the sporting press had always 
been around the Rodeo in herds.  True, it was mostly the 
All-Arounds and bull-riders who got the crowds,  but there 
were generally enough to go around. She'd learned to 'no 
comment' her way right past 'em, along with an occasional 
'that's too personal' or 'get f***ed, a**hole.' Still,  
Crystal was right, in that it wasn't worth the hassle to 
prove she was press-tolerant. It kind of surprised her, 
though; Crystal had sought out media attention with her so-
called 'conference', and now she was ducking out. Not a very 
appealing advertising strategy.

"Ah guess ah need to make an appointment to talk to y'all, 
then. Ah was kinda hopin'...well, it don't matter."  She got 
up and stretched stiffly. "Y'all let me know when you've got 
an open slot on your dance card, eh?  G'night. Mitchell, 
ah'll see ya'll tomorrow. 

"Ah hope y'all come out okay, Crystal." 

She turned and headed for the door.

<><><><><>

Crystal:

As Tyler reacts to coldness with snappy sarcasm, Crystal's 
cold expression melts and she reaches a chilly, hard hand to 
rest on Tyler's retreating shoulder.

"No.  Please...  I'm sorry.  I just don't trust...  You 
know, those Government agents.  They've known about this for 
months and they didn't do anything to warn us, they didn't 
even tell me about... her... and what they knew or anything.  
I don't think they're too concerned with anything except 
themselves, and there was one last night...  Well, I'm 
pretty used to being looked at like a slice of meat or an 
advertising edge or a mannequin, but I don't think I like 
being looked at like I was some new kind of gun.  I think 
that's all we are to them.

"But we need to stick together.  All of us who can.  
Besides, you saved my life down there, I can't let you just 
walk out angry."

She smiles, or tries to.  She seems torn, but her crystal 
features lack the subtlety to express it.

"I'll see if I can get a room on a smoking floor of another 
hotel, then we can talk.  All right?"

<><><><><>

Tyler:

Tyler paused and turned, a little surprised at Crystal's 
reaction.  She hesitated, wanting to formulate her thoughts 
carefully.  "Yeah...well,  that's really okay. It ain't the 
smokin', so much.  Nasty habit. Ah oughta quit, anyway. 
See..." she took a deep breath,  her shoulders rising and 
falling, "...ah know this ain't easy. But ah figured...least 
you kinda know what the hell is goin' on with your body, 
right? Ah was hopin'...maybe...see, ah can wish up all this 
s***, but ah got no idea how, or where it's comin' from...

"Some of it is apparently mine from a different universe or 
somethin',  you know? It's really weird. Ah guess ah don't 
like not knowin' what ah can do, and where the hell all this 
s*** is comin'  from. You know?"

She shrugged plaintively, then smiled her famous crooked 
smile. "Got any good ideas?"

<><><><><>

Crystal:

"I wish I knew.  To be honest, I just woke up like this.  
I'm just glad I can change back...  But I don't know what 
any of it means."

She glances to her lawyer and frowns slightly.

"And I need to be going.  I need to get a new room, 
somewhere where I can try to get a grip on things.  I don't 
know how we can get back together or how Terry can find 
me...  I suppose we could impose on Mister Burlowitz to act 
as a messenger, can't we?  You will know where I am, of 
course, and she could just call you.  And I suppose we could 
leave a message for Terry..."

Her hand clenches on the strap of her shoulderbag, crystal 
fingers closing tightly.  She raises her hand and looks at 
it again.

"Or maybe another hotel isn't the best idea.  I'm not sure 
what sort of shape I'll be in when I change back to... me.  
Last time there was just a few marks and my wrist..."

She holds up her arm, letting the light show its condition 
now.

<><><><><>

Tyler:

Tyler hid her disappointment fairly well. SHe'd been hoping 
that there would be some more definitive answers 
forthcoming, but...well,  there was not much she could do 
about it, except keep trying. 

She had a couple of projects she wanted to invest some time 
in,   though, before she met up with Mitchell at the Statue. 
First, she intended to wish up a history book, and see if 
that shed any light on her situation. 

Secondly, she intended to hit the library, and do a little 
research.   She felt woefully inadequate, insofar as her 
exotic science knowledge went, and all things considered, 
she figured she'd better get after it if she wanted to take 
maximum advantage of her talent. For instance,  there were 
probably adjuncts like tripods or gyroscopic mounts or some 
such that would have made firing that damned big gun a 
breeze; but she didn't know enough to wish for them 
successfully.  So...maybe scanning a little speculative or 
CP fiction...she vaguely remembered seeing some future tech 
stuff in B. Dalton's once. She'd bought a Kellerman mystery 
instead.

"All right. Ah got a couple of things ah need to do, anyway. 
Y'all sure y'all're gonna be all right? I mean, when y'all 
go back to flesh and blood, what happens to all those 
cracks? Maybe y'all need some superglue or somethin' 
first...and y'all ought to have somebody 'round, like a 
doctor. Say...y'all want to go to a hospital emergency room, 
and *then*  try switchin'? Ah'll go with you, see that they 
treat you right."

<><><><><>

Crystal:

"That might not be a bad idea...  I think I'll turn back 
when I fall asleep, so I'm on a time limit in the end.  And 
I think having someone along is a good idea."

She smiles again, taking up a kerchief and dark sunglasses 
that fail miserably to hide her, but are at least an 
attempt.

"Thank you."

<><><><><>

[GM]

When Crystal and Tyler make their way to the hospital, you 
find a number of people from the hotel are there already. 
Some are journalists and hotel staff, injured by Lucretia 
when she charged madly into the throng, and during the 
battle when she was throwing things around. Others were 
wounded by the bullets that went spraying through the hotel, 
perforating walls like paper. Tyler spots one bloody figure 
that looks like a teenage boy....the doctors are pulling the 
sheet up over his head.

An emergency room nurse hurries over to the two newcomers, 
holding out a clipboard with forms to sign, asking you to 
wait if it's not life threatening- then she does a double 
take as she sees Crystal.

<><><><><>

Crystal:

"Please... I don't know if I'm hurt, but I think I am.  When 
I change back to me, the real me, I want someone ready 
to..."

She can't bring herself to say it, so she takes the forms.

"I'll fill these out.  And I'll wait until no one else is at 
risk.  I... don't want anyone else hurt because of me."

<><><><><>

Tyler:

"How y'all doin'," Tyler said, agreeably enough. She was 
probably as used to hospital emergency rooms as anyone 
around. "This is Chris Tallin, and as you can see, she's got 
a small problem that pretty much qualifies as an emergency. 
Now...what we we need is to get her admitted, get her a a 
PCU bed, and get her a chance to talk to the doctor ahead 
about what kind of specialized medical care she's gonna 
need. We don't need to take up any of the E-room 
facilities...at least,  not yet...but we're talkin' prob'ly 
pretty severe physical trauma care,  pain control, and maybe 
some blood loss after. Reckon y'all can help us out?"

<><><><><>

[GM]

"Umm...ummm..." the nurse looks totally baffled.

Someone cries out behind her. "She was at the hotel! It was 
her that lunatic came for!"

Over a dozen pairs of eyes fix on Crystal and Tyler, and the 
expressions range from curiousity to fear to blatant 
hostility. "You caused this!" their looks say. Or maybe it's 
just your imagination. Most of them don't pay much attention 
to you at all.

The nurse hastily escorts you out of the ER room, and down 
the hall into a treatment room, where you have to wait over 
half an hour before a doctor arrives, with another nurse.

He looks at Crystal and blinks. "You're....one of those 
superhumans." It seems to be half question, half talking to 
himself. Surely he was warned before he came. Looking more 
closely at the crytalline woman, he says "I don't know how 
to treat....someone like you." He looks down at his 
stethoscope, then back up. "Do you even have a heartbeat, or 
respiration?"

<><><><><>

Crystal:

Crystal's earlier, more frightened mumbles were lost behind 
Tyler's more decisive manner and she was whisked into a more 
private room with the burning of all those eyes still 
cooling...

"I don't know.  I think I'm still breathing, but I don't 
know how this body works.  But when I change back, I think 
I'll be hurt.  Very seriously hurt, if the cracks mean 
anything."

She shows him her arm, its webwork of fractures, then pulls 
the sleeve down again.

"Last night I had a broken wrist from far less than that.  
I... I can't feel much in this body.  Not pain, at least.  
So I don't know how bad it is.  But I know I'll turn back if 
I fall asleep, so I can't stay like this forever.  I think 
I'm just another person when I'm not Crystal.  I don't feel 
any different...

"What should I do to be ready?  Take my clothes off and lie 
down?"

<><><><><>

Tyler:

	Tyler didn't like the way the doctor seemed hesitant, 
even open-mouthed. "Hey, doc; snap out of it.  She's a real 
person in there; she just can't help the way she changes. 
And she's gonna change back, so you don't worry about how 
she is *now*, y'all worry about how bad she's gonna be when 
she turns human again. Ah think you just ought to be ready 
for a little girl that's beat up bad. Y'all get trauma cases 
in here sometimes, right?  So...you're gonna do your job, 
and not jus' stand there gawkin' like a fool, are you? 

"Ah'm no expert on weirdos, but ah know pain. And if it all 
comes on her at once, she's at least gonna pass out, maybe 
worse. There's no tellin' what that kind of shock could do 
to that l'il body, y'all understand?"

<><><><><>

[GM]

The doctor shakes his head in amazement. "I'd say this calls 
for a specialist," he says, "but I doubt anyone specializes 
in....what are you made of, anyways? Silicon? Diamond? My 
God, this is scientifically impossible!"

"So is a flying man," the nurse murmurs, behind him.

The doctor finally pulls himself together. "Did you receive 
any medical treatment for your broken wrist?" When you 
answer in the affirmative, he calls Records and has your 
folder brought to him, where he looks at the file and the X-
rays that were taken. "You say you had a....fracture, in 
this...crystal form, and it became this-" he indicates the 
X-ray of your normal, flesh and blood wrist, "when you 
changed back?" When you confirm this, he asks you to roll 
your sleeves up so he can look at your arms more closely. 
"It's hard to tell from the surface, since you're only semi-
transparent," he says, "but some fissures seem deeper than 
others. Obviously cracks don't translate directly, or you'd 
have had lacerations and punctures in your wrist, instead of 
crushed tissue. I'm not sure exactly what process is 
involved, when your crystal, umm, cells, become organic 
again. But last night, you had internal hemorrhaging. That 
could be very bad, if you also have fractures reaching into 
your internal organs."

"We can take X-rays. Hopefully X-rays will work on you. But 
you said you have to change back eventually anyways. I think 
the best we can do is get you in a trauma unit before you 
change back, and stand by ready to perform whatever 
emergency medical procedures are necessary."

<><><><><>

Crystal:

"Do what you have to, Doctor.  I hope we never have to know 
more about how this works than today...  But I'm afraid my 
first two days aren't promising a quiet life  now that I 
have this... I don't know what to call it."

She doesn't feel hurt, but that doesn't mean much.  The 
doctor's observations are frightening her more than she 
already had been, but she fight to keep that from showing.

"Tyler, I think you should probably get to whatever else you 
wanted to do. This will probably take a while, and I don't 
think there's anything more you can do."

She pauses, meeting Tyler's eyes with her own oddly inhuman 
gaze.

"Thank you again.  I don't know what I would have done 
without you."

<><><><><>

Tyler:

	Tyler grimaced. She'd been alone enough in hospitals 
to remember the feeling, and it wasn't all that pleasant. 
"Ah can stay a while, be sure there's nothing else. Ah don't 
mind. Really. Hell,"  she grinned.  "Maybe ah should wish up 
a medical text, along with a history book.  Might have some 
new stuff, just for you."

	Whatever the end result, she'd accede to Crystal's 
wishes. If she wanted her to stay, she'd find a corner in a 
restroom and wish up her history text and maybe a book on 
'modern weapons and technology' from that same 
transdimensional source. Something that just might give her 
a grasp on what she was dealing with. She could read them in 
the waiting room, and if it seemed right to spend the night 
in a chair in Crystal's PCU, she'd have something to read 
and prop up her feet with.

	On the other hand, if she wanted her to leave, she'd 
go find a reasonable motel and do the same thing. She could 
hit the library tomorrow.

<><><><><>

Christine:

Crystal doesn't put up any fight to force Tyler to leave, 
and she follows orders like the best of them.  If she 
ignores the setting, the hum of the wrong kinds of machines, 
lights and cameras, it's almost like a regular shoot.  
Almost like her life wasn't on the line...

<><><><><>

[GM]

[to Tyler]

You settle in somewhere where you can read in peace, and 
concentrate on trying get a couple of books, on history, and 
armaments, from the same place you got your gun.

Even a couple of books drains you now. You're starting to 
feel more like sleeping than reading.

The first book is a glossy volume with what seems to be a 
plastic cover. The second one is a loosely bound stack of 
thin paper which has plentiful diagrams of the massive rifle 
you summoned, and all its components. There are many 
illustrated diagrams showing how to load it, disassemble it, 
maintain it, etc.

It would probably be enormously useful....except that the 
text in both books seems to be entirely in Chinese.

[to Christine]

Once a surgical table is prepared, and you are in a gown, 
they ask you to lie down and then, change to normal. Three 
doctors stand by with a frightening array of equipment.

It isn't immediately painful when you become flesh and blood 
again. You feel sore, very sore, all over, But the soreness 
becomes a throbbing ache, and then pounding agony in your 
skull, your wrist, your shoulder, your knees, a dozen other 
places. In short, you feel like someone who's just had the 
cr** beaten out of her. No surprise...

"Joint swellings...." "possible bone chipping..." "internal 
hemorrhaging..." "ruptured blood vessels...arterial 
blockage...subdermal hemablahblahblah...." Through the haze 
of pain, you can feel them poking and prodding, examining 
you with a small X-ray machine, keeping a close eye on all 
your vital signs while they try to figure out just how badly 
injured you are. Finally, they inject an anaesthetic which 
does not put you unconscious, but does put you in la-la 
land, so you only vaguely recall anything afterwards.

You must have fallen asleep at some point, because you wake 
in a hospital bed. You have bandages all over, and your arm 
is in a cast again. It hurts when you move, or breathe. When 
you let the nurses know you're awake, a doctor arrives soon 
after.

"The fact is," he tells you, once he's introduced himself, 
"it looked much worse than it was. We had to relieve a lot 
of swelling, and deal with some ruptured blood vessels, 
fortunately no major ones, but essentially, you're just one 
enormous bruise. You have crushed tissue all over your body, 
but it's healing. You do have fractures in your knee, wrist, 
and ribs, and we have your neck in a brace because we're a 
little worried about what seems to be some stressed 
vertabrae. But while you are going to be walking stiffly for 
a while, and not doing any modelling shots anytime soon, we 
should be able to release you in a day or two. You'll need 
to come back several times, so we can make sure no 
unforeseen problems arise in your healing. But it seems that 
all that damage you took in your...other, form, was greatly 
diffused when you changed back. I do think, though, that you 
about hit your limit. You took about as much damage as a 
person can take and not have any of it transmit to something 
vital, or escalate to something permanent."

"Oh, your friend Ms. Sterrit has been waiting around for 
you, if you want to see her now."

<><><><><>

Crystal:

Christine wakes slowly, a fog of pain and painkillers 
battling to see which can steal more of her attention.  But 
the nurses are attentive, the doctor very helpful.  She 
tries to smile slightly as he tells her it isn't as bad as 
it initially looked, but it feels far worse.

"Terry?  Did he...?"  Talking is more difficult than she had 
thought, *everything* hurts.  She worries how bad she must 
look, wonders if she'll ever really recover.  But she knows 
if Terry won't tell her, someone else will.

"Yes.  I'd like Tyler..."

But one other question burns in her mind, one she must ask.

"What about Crystal?  If I changed...?"

Completing the question proves impossible, but she hopes the 
doctor gets the direction she was thinking in and has some 
sort of answer, somehow.

<><><><><>

[GM]

The doctor shrugs. "I wish I could tell you what will happen 
if you change back to that other form. But I have no idea. I 
guess you'd be like you were...all cracked up." He winces, 
and adds "No pun intended."

<><><><><>

Tyler:

	Tyler came in looking a little rumpled and carrying a 
couple of large books. She'd apparently settled for a nap on 
the waiting room chairs, after making an effort to decipher 
some glimpse of the alternate universe history from the 
pictures and charts in the Chinese version.  The entire 
thing was getting odder and odder; the Ford manuals were in 
English, and for that matter, the corporate logo and truck 
appearance showed no oriental design influence. Her horse 
spoke English; the guns had English markings; why would the 
books be untranslatable? She could likely find someone in 
New York to do the translating...if it really was Chinese. 
In fact, the Feds would probably *want* to do it. So exactly 
what logical reason was there for books that she wanted to 
flop out of nowhere in a totally different language? 
	
	Maybe the Chinese ruled America in that version of the 
universe.  Maybe there were glitches in her wishing process. 
Maybe there were *multiple* alternate realities, that 
rotated beneath the microscope of her influence over time, 
so that if she picked a different time, she could get a 
bunch of different histories. Maybe she had to specify 
English. What if it wasn't called 'English' in the alternate 
universe?  She'd have to try more, later.
	
	"Well. You're up and around a little, ah see. How're 
y'all feeling?" 

<><><><><>

Crystal:

"Cracked up."

Christine smiles as she echoes the doctor's appraisal to 
Tyler, her mood brightened by the familiar face, even if 
still anchored to the ground by the web of medical equipment 
she is trapped in.

"Doctor says... couple days.  Nothing serious.  Hurts, 
though."

She doesn't look like she's searching for sympathy from 
Tyler, just stating the obvious rather than trying to hide 
it.

"Can you turn on the TV?  I want to hear the news..."

<><><><><>

[GM]

When Tyler turns on the news, you get a local station 
covering something at the Kennedy airport. A camera is 
pointing across a mostly empty stretch of airfield, where a 
small jet is sitting by itself with its lower cargo door 
hanging open. Several people are running and- flying!- 
around it.

"-at this time who the participants are, though it does not 
seem to be the same superhumans involved at the battle at 
the Regency Hotel in New York City earlier this evening. We 
know that the plane is a government jet, as it's occupying a 
section of the airfield reserved for military, police and 
other government aircraft, but have not yet been able to 
learn - holy sh- lookithat!..."

As the camera zooms in, a glimpse can be seen of what looks 
like a girl in a dress hovering in the air, and suddenly the 
plane is lifting vertically into the air, then tipping.