When I wake up, I find I'm lying in the street outside the cinema again. Shakily, I climb to my feet, muttering, "This is one strange town." I look around. On the side of one of the buildings there's a map. I resolve to consult it, and if I can't make any sense of the place then, I'll just have to ask a local, um, crazy person someone who is here already.

It can't be that dangerous, can it?

It can't be that dangerous, can it?

The entire town was once very nearly sucked into chaos. Does that count?

And, okay, folks, again: I'M SORRY ABOUT THE TOWN BEING ALMOST SUCKED INTO CHAOS! STOP ASKING "Hey, any murderous interdimensional interlopers coming after you today?" IT WASN'T MY FAULT!

Uh, dude? I was there.

It was totally your fault.

Was not.

As I stagger towards the map, I hear a couple of people who appear to live here abouts arguing over who's fault it was that the place was nearly sucked into choas. I smile, realising that Eris' Cult of the Sinking Grapefruit will fit right in here.

Look, see...I was sent, okay, I was out of my mind, there was nanotech and Windows operating systems involved. Not. My. Fault.

As I lean on the wall and attempt to read the map, I wonder if it doesn't make sense because I'm dying, or because it's written in another language. Something in the back of my head prompts me to seek help, which is about the time that I notice that the guy who is protesting that he didn't try to plunge the town into choas is the same man who blasted the Ringwraith eariler.

"A powerful wizard! Just what I need!" I groan, as I faint into his arms.

"Oh, crap."

Something like this happens every couple of months or so. Random visitors from other planes or other cities or New Jersey wander up to me all battered and bloody and say "Oh, yay! A powerful wizard! Just what I need!" and pass out.

Just once, you know, you'd like something simple like "Got a light?" or "Hey, do you know Bob?" so I can answer "No." and go about my day. But now it's "A powerful wizard!" and an unconscious woman and that means trouble and trouble usually means that the sky's going to split open or hordes of super-intelligent gibbons on PCP are about to invade and I've got about half an hour to think of something.

*sigh*

I look at ita who looks like she's about to bolt and leave me hangin'. "Whaddya think? Take care of the unconscious stranger from another land or dump her at the hospital?"

"She did ask for a wizard," ita points out. "You sorta fit the bill."

"Yeah, yeah." I grumble a bit under my breath. "Awright, I'll take her back to my place, let Hector look after her 'til she wakes up and I'll make sure the staff's charged and the sword's sharpened and the spells are ready and the tranquilizer darts are loaded." I sling the woman up over my shoulder.

"I just hope it's not the gibbons again."

I'm about to leave when I hear him mention gibbons.

I think he needs to be watched.

He's not finished recharging yet, bless him - I could do with a recharger myself, actually. I'm pleasantly achey, but let's draw a veil over all that. Suffice it to say that the t however the hell long has passed outside the apartment has been spent in a very pleasant fashion, and I'm thoroughly pleased that I moved in next door to a Gigolo Joe-bot. Bless him. (Not a bad cook, either, and he can light cigarettes with his finger. And he didn't mind all the 'Light my fire' jokes that had me giggling helplessly at my own Crap Quip skills.)

Anyway, once I'm out of the shower I sling on something long, cleavagey and claret-coloured and lace on some big stompy boots, pick up my demure little Mary Poppins (TM) Carpet Bag and wander out into the darkness.

I wonder what's happening in Blood tonight...