<strong>Las Vegas</strong><br/><br/>Jenny found the whale easily enough--portly, middle-aged, balding, more money than either intelligence or charisma, probably divorced, certainly not the sort of entanglement she wanted.  For some reason, he reminded her of Elliott Gould. He greeted her at the door, his tropical floral print shirt already soaked through under both arms.  The room was way too warm. AC was out or something.  He grinned, looking more embarrassed than she'd expected he would.  He'd asked for her, right?  So why would he be embarrassed when she showed up, the desired Cosmopolitan in hand?<br/><br/>"Ah, thanks.  Come on in for a sec."<br/><br/>He backed up, wiping sweat from his brow with one arm.  Definitely too warm in here.  Maintenance would want to know about this.<br/><br/>"Look, I know how this sounds.  Asking for you personally and all.  But it isn't like that, honest!"  More mopping.  "The Cosmo is just the excuse to get you up here.  I mean, I hear you're important around here.  So you might...uhm, look.  There's something out there in the desert, just outside those stupid vine things.  It looks like Stonehenge or something.  And I'd have thought it was some kind of tourist gimmick, but it wasn't there yesterday!"<br/><br/>He gulps the drink in one go, shudders, gasps.  Then he beckons Jenny over by the window and points.  As he says, there is indeed something out there, just beyond the obsidian thicket.  And it does kind of look like a circle of standing stones.  Weird.<br/><br/><br/><strong>Los Angeles</strong><br/><br/>Sophronia, you've had an interesting few days getting your court settled in and arrangements made for all hands.  Even with your newfound power and the devotion shown by your followers, getting the eyes dotted and the tees crossed to the last jot and tittle has taken up more time and energy than you'd like.  Still, it's done for now, and future tasks have been delegated to people who know a bit about how things work.  You have time to relax and enjoy the fruits of your labor.<br/><br/>There's a fair chance that word is getting around, so Michael and Bobby have negotiated a loose schedule for patrol. The rest of Winston's immediate followers all but swore fealty to you after you healed Michael.  They in turn convinced the rest, but what you've heard them retelling is more fantastical that the actual event.  Still, they turned everything over to your custody and have been behaving themselves pretty well.<br/><br/>So it is not really very surprising when one of them arrives to breathlessly fall prostrate at your feet and babbles something about an envoy waiting for permission to approach.<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><strong>Silverville</strong><br/><br/>The wolves bring warning of the intruder first: their howls follow the wind, telling of a lone vehicle that has dared draw near the forest and the man who even now strides forth between the trees.  Their voices also cry of his strangeness.  He brings no weapon that they can see, but moves without fear even through the deep of the night.  His presence confuses the Pack.  There is something about this two-legs that unsettles them: neither threat nor prey, but something else.<br/><br/>For nearly an hour they howl his progress, but then the call changes.  The intruder has stopped at the very edge of the town-that-was.  The two-legs seems to be waiting.  The Pack calls for Irina to come and see, to decide what must be done.<br/><br/><br/>