<span class="bbc_u">Alright, take two. Here we go...</span><br/><br/><em>The wind blew from all directions, clawing and tearing at the very earth as it passed. In the northern sky, great clouds of ice and mist blotted out the stars like some frozen army advancing down onto the world. To the west, fire and smog rose from the ground to strike the heavens. Spires of lightning and fierce, roaring thunder erupted from the east, and a foul stench of rot and decay drifted out of the south. Directly overhead, the moon seemed to turn its face and laugh pitilessly at the chaos unfolding below its endless sight.<br/><br/>In an open field, the shadow of a figure flickered in the taunting moonlight and twisted to take in the surrounding onslaught. A broken sword lay in pieces at its feet, the shards glinting with the dying shine of shattered hopes. The figure staggered and fell to its knees as the onrushing forces clashed together around him, existence warping and fragmenting under their awesome might, and a scream of anguished rage was drowned out by the maelstrom.</em><br/><br/>Ethan Daniels came awake with a spluttering cough, jerking violently upright in his plush office chair like a marionette in the hands of a reckless puppeteer. He clutched at his throat and patted his chest, ensuring that yes, he was in one piece, and he blinked away the small tears that had been threatened to spill in his sleep. With a shaking hand, he reached down into one of the deep drawers of his desk and withdrew a copper flask filled with whiskey, and a pair of candy bars. He tore open one of the treats with his teeth and scarfed it down, barely bothering to chew it before unscrewing the flask's top and bolting a mouthful of fine blended Scotch.<br/><br/>He forced himself to focus for a moment on the simple mechanics of chewing and swallowing, his heart rate slowly returning to below the speed limit, and leaned back in his chair with one arm draped over his face. When he was certain he could again form a coherent sentence, he reached for the old rotary phone on his desk and dug a battered phone book from beneath a pile of rumpled and stained papers. His fingers only trembled slightly as he hooked the heavy wheel around and around, the soft click-clicking seeming to fill the room as he dialed.<br/><br/>"Um, hello...American Air? Yes...I, er, I'd like to book a ticket--I mean, I'd like to buy a seat--uh, I mean...look, I need to get to Pasadena...y-yes, California...No, no, I mean as soon as possible...tomorrow morning? Isn't there any--I...yes, I understand, but that's...alri-...<em>alright</em>...alright, fine then! Tomorrow...yes, first-class...yes, I'll be traveling alone...Do you take Visa?...Alright, the number is...Okay, great. Yes, got it. Eleven a.m., thank you. Yes...uh, you too. Okay. Thanks. Bye."<br/><br/>With a deep breath, Ethan hung up the phone and fell back into his chair, feeling a unique blend of exasperation and personal pride. He eyed the small card sitting on one corner of the old roll-top, a fancy gilded number with his name in crimson text. '<em>Alright. I've got my invitation, and I've got a ticket to get there. Hard part's over. Now I just have to worry about what might or might not be the end of the worlds...</em>'