The Seattle night sky was clear, with not a cloud in the sky. The bright moon, half full, shone incessantly over the city streets that weren't illuminated by the ten thousand watts of energy coursing through the city every millisecond. A few stars even shone in the sky, the bravest of the lot, eager to be seen even when the other stars were blotted out by the constant shining of lights to eradicate darkness from the richest corners of the sprawling metroplex.

None of that mattered to Vic, sitting by himself, across from a small four story building between the impressive Space Needle and the overpoweing Aztechnology Archology, shaped like the Mayan pyramids favored in the megacorp's home base in Aztlan. The blond, skinny but muscular elf, clad in the uniform of the Special Services division of Tir Tairngere, sat watching the aparment building, especially what was on top. He was sprawled out on top of the building, peering through the scope of the powerful sniper rifle in his hands.

On top of the small apartment building, sat a medium-sized, weathered medicine lodge, lovingly covered in by now old deerskin, and painted expertly with different AmerInd symbols. Inside, it was filled with various talismans, candles, and a straw mat. On it, Party Animal sat cross-legged, with his coyote Lone Eagle sprawled out, asleep, in front of his legs.

Party Animal, a Coyote shaman, had his eyes closed, his conciousness far off in the warm reaches of the astral plane. He was stripped bare, except for a leather breechcloth, leather moccasins on his feet, a sweat-stained bandanna tied around his head, keeping his thick black hair at bay, and a small leather pouch around his neck, that almost glowed with power. Party Animal's deeply tanned body, slick with sweat, was youthful in appearance, making him seem twenty-one. However, his slightly pointed ears and the various scars criss-crossing his body, gifts from the various corps, countries, and others that had him high on their hit list, suggested that he was probably older than he looked.

After almost three hours, Party Animal finally began to stir. His warm brown eyes slowly flitted open, and he yawned. He slowly began to move around, stretching after four hours exploring around the astral plane. He slowly got up, workig the cricks out of his neck, and awakening Lone Eagle, who slowly whined at the shaman. "Mmmph," he muttered, still working the crick out of his neck. "Fourty eight years in this young body's starting to take its toll." He stood up fully, stretched some more, and looked out the east-facing flap that was lightly flapping in the slight evening breeze.

Vic groaned. He had waited for what seemed like an eternity for what seemed like an eternity, for the target he had been assigned. "What's so damn special about him anyway?" he grumbled. 'Because', his mind replied, 'He is one of the greatest traitors to the Tir. He has to be eliminated, to maintain the security of our country.'

Twenty-five years ago, Party Animal had just come back to Salem from a self-imposed exile in what used to be called the Lake Detroit Wilderness Area, a forest fourty miles out of Salem. It was then that the Tir spang up like a weed. PA was wrapped up in the political frevor, and forgoed his Modoc heritage for his slim elven blood. He signed up for the infant Peace Force, and quickly used his magic to shoot up the ranks. It all culminated in the Battle of Redding. He was a Staff Seargent, in charge of a platoon in the Magical Forces Division. After beingforced out of Northern California by the residents, PA left the military for civilian life, and partook in the first Rite of Progression, attaining Lord rank. However, he soon grew tired of life there, and fled the country for Seattle. Normally, this would have only mildly fragged off the up-and-ups in the government, but while PA was in the Peace Force, his high rank made him privy to certain tactical secrets that the Tir had planned for California.

'And after all, even twenty year old secrets are still secrets. That's why he has to be eliminated.' Vic nodded, stolid in his conviction to kill the shaman before he ever had a chance to tell anyone what he knew. Suddenly, he heard a rustling inside the lodge. He quickly checked through his scope, and saw that the exit flap, facing away from him, was being flipped up to where he could see some of the leather flap above the lodge. He knew that his chance was coming.

Party Animal's head poked out of the lodge, and he took a look around. He shooed Lone Eagle out through the hole first, and then stuck a leg through it. He then fully climbed out of it, his head looking at the impressive Renraku Archology towering above the Seattle skyline. Taking a deep breath of the night air, and slighly coughing from the light dash of evening smog, he never noticed when a tiny red bead focused on the back of his head.