Begin Transmission:
I take my little vial in turn and tip my head back to drain its contents into my gut. I can't help but bring to mind all the drugs of the warrior tradition. Soma for the Persians, peyote for the Apache and laced mead for the Vikings. We are joining that group, joining a larger group of mutants that have gone before and will follow after. It's ritual that is important here, painting yourself blue like a Pict or liming back your hair like a Celt. Every group going into battle has their traditions and ours is lysergic acid in kool-aid.
I go and sit in the arcade to await the effects of the drug. Soon I will fall into that old immortal feeling that I have had so little opportunity to experience but still welcome like an old friend when it hits me. Take it back, take it slack and then ride the feeling that sets us reeling. I glance over and see Ryan emerge from a store with Sally and across from them Rob and Chris point at an old poster of Farrah Fawcett and giggle at the
depth of whatever sick thought just occurred to them. With the beginning effect of the snake eyed man I can feel the strength come from each of the mutants, can feel it like it was an oil slick on a stream that was swirling around my ankles.
Scott wanders over and I throw an arm around him. Passion is better silent and we share a long moment of complete understanding before we both wander into other thoughts and actions.
End Transmission.
-clampe-
--Letters from a Savior; Offer for a few--
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