<em>Somewhere in America...</em><br/><br/>The Morrigan, or Ms. Crow, felt like she was late for something.  That was never a good sign.  She couldn't think of what she could possibly be late for.  She never had anywhere to go at this point.  No battles, no deaths, no births, not even the occasional cattle rustle.<br/><br/>She sat in a train station, wearing her dark black blazer over her white tank top.  It was hardly what one would wear to an important interview that could determine her immortal fate, but she hadn't forseen any meeting today.  She sat on one side of a massive wooden bench that had its back to another bench in the middle of the massive granite train station.  She glanced up at the large iron clock next to her, wondering what exactly she was late for.