A/N: I don't own anything that resembles Robert Jordan's World of the Wheel of Time. That would be nice, cause then I would know the answers to all those nifty conundrums that RJ subjects us to, but, alas, I do not. The opening paragraph was taken from all RJ's books, altered slightly by me. I make no profit from this fic, and intend no infringement. But I read in an interview RJ doesn't care, as long as his characters aren't used. Hmmm... Well, I won't. I promise. Also, I've started using a new program, so I can use HTML... if I mess up, let me know And yes, the prologue was kinda tedious, but it was sort of necessary. Well, not really, but...yeah.
Chapter one:
Awakening
The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, an Age of metal and plastic, an Age where skepticism ran rampant, a wind rose in the hills of Ventura. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.
It blew down across the Conejo Valley, swept over Calabasas, and down into the San Fernando Valley. It wailed and howled in frustration, battering against houses of steel and glass. It blew down streets deserted in the early morning, sending leaves up in small whirlwinds before depositing them in gutters in desperate need of sweeping. It sped down sidewalks and alleyways, and slammed against a slim figure, huddling against the cold.
Hunter Flynn shivered in the dim light of dawn. He wouldn't be out in the chill, except he was due at work in five minutes. His car was parked across the vast parking lot, in the area designated for employees of the mall. Most people ignored it, and parked where ever they pleased, but Hunter had a stubborn streak, and refused to give in. Besides, the walk was good for him. And yet, on days such as this, he found it increasingly difficult to find the resolve to park so far away.
Hunter was average, in the regards that his hair was a dull shade of brown, with eyes that matched. He wasn't abnormally tall, or fat, or exceptionally muscular. He just sort of ... was. He had no distinctive features about him whatsoever, and in a crowd, he would have been difficult to point out. Not that this bothered him, of course. He took pride in being average. He always believed that people who were 'special' would have been less of a person without that distinction. He was who he was, and that was that.
The day itself would have elicited no comment from any bureau of meteorology, either. It was a typical day in that dreary month of January, with the joys of the holidays fading to a distant memory, and the hopes of St. Valentines Day still a month away. In any other state, there would be snow, mountains of it. But this was southern California, so, despite all of January's effort, the temperature always stayed this side of freezing. And, as usual, by mid-afternoon, the air would be warm enough to make most jackets unnecessary. It was as it has been, and shall be, until the Wheel turns. But these things were not foremost on Hunter's mind. Hunter, between his attempts to warm himself as he ambled towards the massive building in which he worked, thought only of his ex-girlfriend.
She had broken up with him several days before, and he wasn't sure what to do. Ordinarily, he would have grinned, and used that as an excuse to get drunk, laid, or both, but he REALLY liked Amy. He was sure she was the One. And, while yes, he was a little young to be thinking of marriage - Twenty next July - he knew he loved her. Or thought he did, anyway. But ever since that gay friend of hers - What was his name? Oh, yeah. Colt. Odd name - had tried to kill himself, she'd been acting strange.
Not that he didn't like the guy. When they'd hung out, he'd seemed really cool. They only saw each other from time to time though, at the Starbucks across the street from the mall. Where Amy used to work. He had a WILD imagination, though. One time, he had tried to tell Hunter a story about how he met Zelda, and Link, and other nonsense. But, at the time, he had been so intense, so insistent, that Hunter had almost begun to believe. Almost. But, true or not, the story was good for a few laughs.
Then, Colt had vanished. No note, no phone call. Just vanished. And Amy been devastated. She blamed herself, saying she should have spent more time with him, should have paid more attention to him. That his suicide attempt had been a cry for help. And other bullshit. Of course, Colt's boyfriend, Bryant, had to know something. But he wasn't telling. No matter how much Amy pleaded, or Hunter threatened, he claimed to know nothing. Amy broke down. She stopped calling, stopped responding to e-mail. No matter how hard he tried to reestablish contact, she shot his efforts down. Finally, he found a letter from her in his mailbox, telling him that perhaps it was time for him to "pursue other avenues." It was the phrasing that got him. "Pursue other avenues." Like she was some diversion. As if his feelings for her didn't even matter. It wasn't fair. Unconsciously, Hunter's hand clenched around the note in his pocket. He kept it with him in the hopes that if she changed her mind, they could read it together and laugh about it. But, deep inside, he knew she wouldn't.
Hunter's train of thought was broken, though, when he entered the mall and ran into Tricia Hayworth. "Hunter!" She practically purred his name. Her face was a mask of surprise, as if she wasn't aware that he arrived at work the same time every day. "What a pleasant surprise! How have you been?" Tricia had been one of Amy's best friends, until a tiff over some random guy had torn them apart. Not surprisingly, Tricia, blonde and curvaceous, had won. But Hunter didn't like blondes. Or too many curves.
"I was fine, 'til I ran into you. Don't bother, Trish. I don't want to hear about it." Tricia had spent the few days since Amy split trying to convince Hunter that she was the right woman for him. She just wants to get at Amy Hunter thought irritably. But I won't be a willing pawn. "If you'll excuse me, I'm gonna be late." He tried to sidestep her, but she caught his arm, forcing him to spin, or else they would both fall. He was conscious of her form pressing against him. Too conscious. "Give it up, Tricia. It's not gonna happen." But his reaction said otherwise. He may not have liked blondes, but he was a man, after all. Flushing, he took her by the arm and moved her forcibly to the side. "I'm sorry. This can't happen."
She opened her mouth, but whether it was to protest being moved or rejected, Hunter would never know. She was interrupted by a rumbling, and the world began to move under them. The shaking lasted only a few minutes, but to Hunter, it had seemed like an eternity. He'd lived in California most of his life, but had never gotten used to the constant threat of earthquakes. "Are you all right?" He mumbled, picking himself up and dusting off his uniform as best he could.
"Fine." The tone of her voice had changed, noticeably. She was shaken, and had forgotten that she was trying to seduce him. Momentarily, anyway. Using that to his advantage, Hunter muttered a farewell, and began to pick his way through the debris. They'll probably send me home he thought. But I'll be in deep shit if I don't show up. He had almost reached the stairs when he heard a terrible groaning sound, and a squeal, like metal twisting. He turned, and saw Tricia, still standing, staring in aghast as a large chunk of metal began to dislodge from the ceiling. "Move, you idiot! MOVE!" But she stood, frozen, a deer caught in headlights. Judging by the distance, and the rate of decay, there was no way to push her aside, but he began to run towards her all the same, calling her name.
The world seemed to slow, and Hunter watched as the girder broke loose and slowly made its way down, through air as thick as molasses, to crush and maim. He screamed something, but it was only a jumble to his ears. And then, something shifted. He felt it, more than saw it. The girder crashed down hard, and shattered, but three feet about Tricia's head, as if the metal had encountered something solid between the ceiling and the girl. Shaken, but unharmed, Tricia turned to glance at Hunter. And fainted.
Awakening
The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, an Age of metal and plastic, an Age where skepticism ran rampant, a wind rose in the hills of Ventura. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.
It blew down across the Conejo Valley, swept over Calabasas, and down into the San Fernando Valley. It wailed and howled in frustration, battering against houses of steel and glass. It blew down streets deserted in the early morning, sending leaves up in small whirlwinds before depositing them in gutters in desperate need of sweeping. It sped down sidewalks and alleyways, and slammed against a slim figure, huddling against the cold.
Hunter Flynn shivered in the dim light of dawn. He wouldn't be out in the chill, except he was due at work in five minutes. His car was parked across the vast parking lot, in the area designated for employees of the mall. Most people ignored it, and parked where ever they pleased, but Hunter had a stubborn streak, and refused to give in. Besides, the walk was good for him. And yet, on days such as this, he found it increasingly difficult to find the resolve to park so far away.
Hunter was average, in the regards that his hair was a dull shade of brown, with eyes that matched. He wasn't abnormally tall, or fat, or exceptionally muscular. He just sort of ... was. He had no distinctive features about him whatsoever, and in a crowd, he would have been difficult to point out. Not that this bothered him, of course. He took pride in being average. He always believed that people who were 'special' would have been less of a person without that distinction. He was who he was, and that was that.
The day itself would have elicited no comment from any bureau of meteorology, either. It was a typical day in that dreary month of January, with the joys of the holidays fading to a distant memory, and the hopes of St. Valentines Day still a month away. In any other state, there would be snow, mountains of it. But this was southern California, so, despite all of January's effort, the temperature always stayed this side of freezing. And, as usual, by mid-afternoon, the air would be warm enough to make most jackets unnecessary. It was as it has been, and shall be, until the Wheel turns. But these things were not foremost on Hunter's mind. Hunter, between his attempts to warm himself as he ambled towards the massive building in which he worked, thought only of his ex-girlfriend.
She had broken up with him several days before, and he wasn't sure what to do. Ordinarily, he would have grinned, and used that as an excuse to get drunk, laid, or both, but he REALLY liked Amy. He was sure she was the One. And, while yes, he was a little young to be thinking of marriage - Twenty next July - he knew he loved her. Or thought he did, anyway. But ever since that gay friend of hers - What was his name? Oh, yeah. Colt. Odd name - had tried to kill himself, she'd been acting strange.
Not that he didn't like the guy. When they'd hung out, he'd seemed really cool. They only saw each other from time to time though, at the Starbucks across the street from the mall. Where Amy used to work. He had a WILD imagination, though. One time, he had tried to tell Hunter a story about how he met Zelda, and Link, and other nonsense. But, at the time, he had been so intense, so insistent, that Hunter had almost begun to believe. Almost. But, true or not, the story was good for a few laughs.
Then, Colt had vanished. No note, no phone call. Just vanished. And Amy been devastated. She blamed herself, saying she should have spent more time with him, should have paid more attention to him. That his suicide attempt had been a cry for help. And other bullshit. Of course, Colt's boyfriend, Bryant, had to know something. But he wasn't telling. No matter how much Amy pleaded, or Hunter threatened, he claimed to know nothing. Amy broke down. She stopped calling, stopped responding to e-mail. No matter how hard he tried to reestablish contact, she shot his efforts down. Finally, he found a letter from her in his mailbox, telling him that perhaps it was time for him to "pursue other avenues." It was the phrasing that got him. "Pursue other avenues." Like she was some diversion. As if his feelings for her didn't even matter. It wasn't fair. Unconsciously, Hunter's hand clenched around the note in his pocket. He kept it with him in the hopes that if she changed her mind, they could read it together and laugh about it. But, deep inside, he knew she wouldn't.
Hunter's train of thought was broken, though, when he entered the mall and ran into Tricia Hayworth. "Hunter!" She practically purred his name. Her face was a mask of surprise, as if she wasn't aware that he arrived at work the same time every day. "What a pleasant surprise! How have you been?" Tricia had been one of Amy's best friends, until a tiff over some random guy had torn them apart. Not surprisingly, Tricia, blonde and curvaceous, had won. But Hunter didn't like blondes. Or too many curves.
"I was fine, 'til I ran into you. Don't bother, Trish. I don't want to hear about it." Tricia had spent the few days since Amy split trying to convince Hunter that she was the right woman for him. She just wants to get at Amy Hunter thought irritably. But I won't be a willing pawn. "If you'll excuse me, I'm gonna be late." He tried to sidestep her, but she caught his arm, forcing him to spin, or else they would both fall. He was conscious of her form pressing against him. Too conscious. "Give it up, Tricia. It's not gonna happen." But his reaction said otherwise. He may not have liked blondes, but he was a man, after all. Flushing, he took her by the arm and moved her forcibly to the side. "I'm sorry. This can't happen."
She opened her mouth, but whether it was to protest being moved or rejected, Hunter would never know. She was interrupted by a rumbling, and the world began to move under them. The shaking lasted only a few minutes, but to Hunter, it had seemed like an eternity. He'd lived in California most of his life, but had never gotten used to the constant threat of earthquakes. "Are you all right?" He mumbled, picking himself up and dusting off his uniform as best he could.
"Fine." The tone of her voice had changed, noticeably. She was shaken, and had forgotten that she was trying to seduce him. Momentarily, anyway. Using that to his advantage, Hunter muttered a farewell, and began to pick his way through the debris. They'll probably send me home he thought. But I'll be in deep shit if I don't show up. He had almost reached the stairs when he heard a terrible groaning sound, and a squeal, like metal twisting. He turned, and saw Tricia, still standing, staring in aghast as a large chunk of metal began to dislodge from the ceiling. "Move, you idiot! MOVE!" But she stood, frozen, a deer caught in headlights. Judging by the distance, and the rate of decay, there was no way to push her aside, but he began to run towards her all the same, calling her name.
The world seemed to slow, and Hunter watched as the girder broke loose and slowly made its way down, through air as thick as molasses, to crush and maim. He screamed something, but it was only a jumble to his ears. And then, something shifted. He felt it, more than saw it. The girder crashed down hard, and shattered, but three feet about Tricia's head, as if the metal had encountered something solid between the ceiling and the girl. Shaken, but unharmed, Tricia turned to glance at Hunter. And fainted.