Prologue

Two friends were conversing, sharing a night of smoking and drinking of dark whiskey. They were discussing a program. A program which could very well be the salvation of mankind.

“Project Babylon will go as planned.” The man stood up and ran his fingers through his short mahogany hair. Walking to the balcony to his city apartment, he paused and picked up a cigarette and his lighter. As he stepped out into the cool night air and lit it, he leaned on the rail next to the tall blonde man to whom he was speaking. Taking a long drag on his cigarette he finished with “all of man kind will be safe and living the fabled ‘happily ever after’.” He laughed cynically and exhaled the smoke.

The blonde man nodded and leaned his back on the rail, propping himself up with his elbows. They stood in silence for a few minutes, each occupied with their own thoughts. Finally the darker haired man flicked his cigarette over the railing. His companion turned and looked him in the eye. “Not all stories have a fairytale ending.” He muttered coldly. Silently he pulled out a worn old Baretta and pointed it at the other man’s gut. His face contorted into an angry expression, without a trace of fear.

“Priest! You fucking bastard.” He growled. The fairer man laughed cruelly and lifted the weapon to his victim’s chest.

“Bye Ace.” He smirked and pulled the trigger. Ace, the man with mahogany hair, collapsed to the railing, his face devoid of its usual coloring. Ace slid to the ground, then fell over and rolled over. Priest frowned at the prostrated man before him and fired two more shots into his back. Finally the blonde man spun on his heel and entered the apartment, his wooden cross pendant thumping against his chest with the sudden movement. Negligently, he knocked over the bottle of hard whiskey onto the desk. Shrugging, he tugged a cigarette from his coat pocket and tucked it into the corner of his mouth, and striking a match, lit it. Tossing the rapidly burning object onto the desk, he proceeded to calmly walk out the door and trot down the stairs all the way to the ground floor. And pulling the fire alarm, he departed from the building.

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All around him bombs were exploding. Women were clutching their children to their chest, men were holding onto their families with all their strength. He heard a sharp intake of breath and a toddler’s cry behind him. Spinning about, he saw his wife and their young son as a Gnar Mok closed in on them. “Nooo!” he wailed, running towards them. The Gnar Mok turned, its cyborgic parts gleaming evilly, reflecting the flames. It leered and reached for them…

Daunte Redoran sat up drenched in a stale sweat. His chamber on the space colony was spinning around him. Jamming his fingers through his thick hair, he sighed. He turned and saw his wife, Shinta, and son, Rin, sleeping quietly beside him. He smiled wanly and reached across his wife to smooth the curls away from Rin’s eyes. The child stirred, waking Shinta. She opened her eyes and glanced at the sleeping three-year-old and then turned her eyes to Daunte.

He laughed softly, not wanting to be confronted with a woken toddler’s wails. “I’m fine Shinta…just a bad dream.” Her face noticeably relaxed and she lifted a hand to his cheek and smiled.

He closed his eyes and lay back down. Her hand smoothing back his hair, he began relaying the dream to her in a soft voice until her hand ceased and he could hear her slowed gentle breathing. He smiled and checked the clock. 4:00 am. He sighed and detached himself from his small family and shuffled to the bathroom. Turning on the light, he looked in the mirror. His long dark hair was tangled and sticking out at odd angles. He grinned and ran his fingers through it. Turning on the shower, he began to undress.

A flash of shock went through his amber eyes as he felt thin toned arms wrap around his waist. Shinta stood behind him with her arms wrapped about him, an amused expression on her face. He laughed huskily at her and spun her around. “Well well! To what do I owe the honor, Mrs. I don’t wake up till Rin decides to?”

She just smiled and lifted a thin eyebrow. Were she not mute, he would have been thoroughly given a colossal tongue lashing.

“Shall we?” he laughed, gallantly sweeping his arm towards the open shower stall. Shinta grinned and shook her head, and pushing him in, slammed the door behind him. Daunte yelped as the scaling water hit him. Smirking she left the bathroom to gather up his uniform and under clothes. As she picked up an undershirt she spied a small velvety box. Curiously, she moved to lift the lid.

“Don’t you dare.” Shinta dropped the box and shoved the drawer closed. She turned and saw a soaked, bright red husband standing in the bathroom doorway. She cocked her head feigning innocence. Daunte narrowed his eyes mockingly. “Don’t give me that look! I know you were snooping!”

Shinta widened her eyes and rose her eyebrows. Daunte walked over to her and swept her up. She grimaced and pushed away from him. “I know I’m all wet.” He rolled his eyes. “What does it matter? Its not like you’re wearing good clothes!” he shook his wet hair and deposited her on the bed. She glared at him. He sighed mockingly and turned to go back to the bathroom. Glancing out of the corner of his eye, he saw Shinta’s pleading eyes. “What? Do you need help with that?” he grinned at her shocked defiant expression. “Didn’t think so.”