From: kiasyd@umich.edu (Jake Baker)
Date: Tue, 14 Dec 1993 18:13:05 -0500

Unlimited Profit Margin
Part 1

Gerald Grex looked out over the dumpsite. He drew in a deep breath, held
it, let it out. A smile inched shyly to his face - more like a sneer. His
arms crossed across his chest. The small man beside him looked up at him,
obviously frightened.

"Uh...should I bring the girl now, boss?"

Gerald almost laughed, "Yes. Bring her,"

The girl was lead up the hill to stand with him. She could hardly be over
sixteen: she was not quite formed as a woman yet. Her hair was blond, but
uncombed and unwashed. Her face might have been pretty, but it was scarred
and dirty. Her hand were tied behind her back.

Gerald looked at her. Almost leered . He'd had younger before. But it was
not time for that now. Now she had other uses he wanted. "Find it," He
ordered.

She looked up at him. "I...I don't know if I can,"

He took her chin and glanced into her eyes, "I don't care. You will do it,
or you will die,"

"OK...I'll try," she choked out. She closed here eyes, tucked her chin
against her chest, concentrated. It took a while, but Gerald just stood
calmly, arms crossed. He prided himself in that: he was patient. A virtue
many of his allies did not have. And he got better results.

Finally, the girl said, "Yes. It's there,"

Gerald smiled, "Good," He pushed the girl forward, "Lead me to it,"

They walked down the other side of the hill, the girl first, slowly,
staggering with fatigue and concentration, down into the wasteland. She
wandered around for a while. Then she stopped; she knelt and said, "It's
here,"

Gerald smiled. He waved to the midget on the hillock. "Get the crew. Bring
the digging equipment,"

"Heh! You almost make me laugh, Gerald Grex. You will never hold it. I will
kill you first,"

Gerald turned around. At the top of a rise in the garbage a stone's throw
away crouched a man. He was bare-chested; he crouched, the tips of his
fingers lightly brushing the ground. He was obviously of some mixed Asian
blood, but his hair was red. The grimace he wore showed nothing but
contempt.. Now from behind him walked up two others: one tall, Hispanic;
the other short, blond, a Glock resting lazily in one hand.

"Ah, my friend Steven. Steven Toyotomi. I always thought that half-breed
name fit your half-breed, metis self," laughed Gerald.

"I may be a metis, but at least I am no traitor to my tribe. And I am the
best fighter they have...had,"

"What? Didn't you like the "presents" I sent the pack? Easy things to make,
actually, but the way they make the flesh melt away is so pretty, don't you
think?"

"I'm not laughing, wyrm,"

"Oh, hush your insults. You can not frighten me. I have gained powers...and
knowledge...your precious 'mother' would not give me. Oh, and I see you
have drudged up your delinquent friends. Bone Gnawers, aren't they? Imagine
that. The mighty Shadow Lord ahroun forced to fight beside some gutter
trash," Gerald laughed.

Steven's compatriots could not stand to be insulted so. The one lifted his
gun and fired; the other shifted to glabro as he ran forward.

The slug caught Gerald in the shoulder, but it did not seem to even faze
him. He grinned. Them, with a flourish, he snatched an amulet like a glass
marble from his neck, and hurled it to the ground. Then he turned and ran.
Behind him, he heard the sounds of conflict. Going prone behind the top of
a hillock, he turned to watch.

The bane that had been summoned when the crystal shattered was being ripped
into by the three Garou. His girl coward a safe distance away from the
battle. The bane was horned and knobby, with spikes for arms; the head at
the end of its long neck spat acidic bile.

But, almost unexpectedly, the Garou defeated his bane. His enemies ran
toward him, death in their eyes. But Gerald had lived too long to die
today. The dwarf had already left with the hired hands. Gerald called out
to the wyrm for power: unseen hands pulled/pushed him along as he ran away,
faster than his body had a right to. After a few turns, he had lost all
signs of pursuit.

Brushing himself off, he walked calmly out of the alley he had stopped in,
and started to where he had parked his Porsche. He had been so close today,
months of searching brought almost to blossom, only to be defeated. Surely,
his enemies now had what he had searched so long and hard for. And they had
freed his psychic, so carefully kidnapped and trained.

But there would be other days, and Gerald Grex swore, he would have his.