Well, somehow I landed in Newark with an empty tank of gas, a surly, ill-shaven but well-meaning traveling companion, and enough booze in my backseat to knock a polar bear the fuck out.  I've gotten lost on the road about six times today and I'm still looking for work back home but things are looking up, I think.  I think.<br/><br/>@Ome:  "Christ, that HURT!" Your challenger yelps aloud, rubbing the back of her head vigorously.  One of the common things you've seen (and taken advantage of) in these leagues are competitors losing their heads.  This one tips forward and springs back with her hands, lashing out with her feet to deliver some off-putting blows.  It's all she needs, to take advantage of her otherwise unbalanced position, to compromise yours.  She's as good on her hands as her feet; with one kick she somersaults back to her feet and turns around to circle back and give this another try.  Wiping some red from her lip (she'd bit it...) her tongue runs up, wetting her lips, and then she dives in forward, reeling back for a wild and poorly aimed blow, only to slip on the mat, sweeping low through her feint and hooking her knees in an attempt to take your feet out from under you.<br/><br/>@Chiro:  The journey across town wasn't as long as before; the wind still howled and the dust left a veil of darkness beyond the outskirts of the city, ominous, as though your world were no longer outside.  The professor had gathered his wits and a small crossbow he'd been given by Caleena some time before you came in, and the three of you take turns two-man sweeping from one building to the next.  Every so often you feel forced to stop inside and catch your breath for a few moments, a time whereupon the professor looks eagerly over the book, begging Baron for just a peek.  "This is something else." He gulps.  "What would have happened had we trod through that mine before the house?"  After a solid hour of this, finally, the short, warehouse end of town, past the five and dime, past the rickety bank and package store, down a short length of road with little more than power lines running across, reaching strange, fried boxes as the lines that went into the boxes changed from what was clearly a magical conductor, perhaps a thin silver-nickel derivative, which was far more effective over distances, to classic electric lines, for the inclusion of more sophisticated power and mining tools, the lines dipping into the old shaft, stopping at a transformer.  Unheard of, even at the wall dividing Velle and Ratio; from the transformer on, the line was shredded, coiled on the ground; it did not pass into the darkened shaft.  This was the place...<br/><br/>@KavenBach:  "What IS this?" The officer snapped.  "You, against the wall..." He turns to Sam who complies with little suspicion; Tim moans, covering his face, from between his hands seeps a little blood.  "Son are you all right - YOU!  Hands up!  Give me that..." He snatches the knuckles away and yanks you up.  "Against the wall!  Don't you move!" He points to Sam, then starts to pat you down.  "I could have you in, you know..." He grumbles through grit teeth.  "Assault with a deadly weapon... knucks are restricted to officers and licensed security, you know?" He sees the pepper gun on the floor and kicks it away.  "Okay, against the wall with him." The officer sets you next to Sam, cuffing you both with plastic zips... plastic zips with a thin strand of iridium inside to prevent magical breaking - and radios in for another car in some short, numeric police vernacular.  "Hey, hey, hands up slowly, kid." The officer grips his own pepper gun.  "How are you feeling?  Were you put up to this?"<br/>Tim rubs his face slowly... "My face!  My faaaaace!  She pounded it to hamburger!  Oh, God, it's hideous!" He screams muffled screams through his hands, reeling around with his pants down, until the officer gently grips his wrists.  "You're going to be all right, we're going to get you to a hospital..." Tim suddenly released his hands from over his face, however, and the mirror on the wall cast his normal reflection, perhaps a scuff or two, but even his teeth were back in place.  "BOO!"  A grin spreads across his face and he laughs with a hiss.  The officer stares at him confoundedly.  "In fact my associate here is a licensed private security contractor." He points to Sam.  "Those are his.  Officer, I'd like you to meet my wife and her boyfriend." He motions to you two and puts an arm around the man, who instantly recoils; Tim's baggy silk pants are down around his ankles.  "You don't have to worry about us one bit, sir, "safe and sane" is our motto when it comes to these things.  Would you by chance be interested in..."<br/>"No, no no no no no no no..." The officer storms up to you without another word and clips your cuffs, stuffing them into his pocket to recycle later.  "Unit 17 to command, cancel that backup, ten one..." He backs off slowly, shaking the knuckles at Sam.  "You shouldn't let civilians use weapons, period.  If I reported you, you could lose your license." He snaps.  "But right now I just want to forget this whole... fucking thing..." He winces, rubbing his eyes.