Am I developing a fetish for rural living? Or just for luxury? Warm milk in a garden while petting a recovering kitten is oddly comforting. I have done my morning run and it is much shorter if you don’t turn into a feeding run. I am a bit tired because after the show yesterday evening I had a good idea for a Dalek #2. I think I can make it use some of my abilities if I include the ritual circles int it, rather than drawing them only for activation. My meditations also have let me consolidate advances

Gun: [Tools of the Magister] Special Ability Iron 1 (11%) [Joy of Sustained Fire] Blood Special Attack Iron 1 (19%) [This is my Gun] Myriad Special Attack/Conjuration

Iron 1 (46%)

[Chemical Warfare] Defiance Special Attack/Conjuration

Iron 0 (21%)

(unused) 0% Vast: [Giant Form of the Ancestors] Special Ability Iron 0 (89%) [Immortality] Tree Special Ability Iron 0 (40%) [Nebelwerfer 42] Focus Special Attack/Conjuration Iron 0 (0%) (unused) 0% (unused) 0% Dimension: [Teleport] Special Ability Iron 1 (1%) [Dance by my Will] Dance Aura Ability Iron 1 (76%) [Eternal Moment] Reach Special Ability Iron 0 (58%) [Path in Time] Hunt Perception Ability Iron 1 (10%) [Wrath of the Magister] Corruption Special Attack/Spell Iron 0 (75%) Battlefield: [Equip the Army] Special Ability Iron 1 (61%) [Robotic Servant of War] Magotech Special Attack/Conjuration Iron 0 (47%) [Pipes of War] Unity Specil Ability Iron 0 (0%) (unused) 0% (unused) 0%

I try to get the kitten into car. I’ve prepared a shallow basket with soft blankets. The mother cats seems strangely unconcerned as I handle her kitten. This brings me to an idea. I try to retract my aura as well as I can. She immediately positions herself between me and her kitten. I project. She sits down to clean herself. Cats interact with auras.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

That evokes an odd thought. Is that the reason for their association with witches in folklore?

I’ve decided to expand my plans. I have no idea where I will end up eventually. Turkey has thrown the GDN out. But that is now. What will be in a year’s time? I might be forced to go to really wild parts of the world. And if I want to gather allies I might not go alone. I need a way to treat people and animals when they fall ill without depleting my strictly non-renewable supply of potions.

I will empty out much of that pharmacy. Things do not spoil inside my inventory. That may turn today’s trip into a longer affair, so I am packing food and water for the cats. I don’t need to eat or drink; they sure do.

The old car runs flawlessly. I park the car in a shady space a bit away from the pharmacy.

The lock does not withstand my combination of conjuration and telekinesis. Yes I could have just shot up or annihilated the door, but I will not hurt people with unnecessary damage. If I have the time to do it in a nice manner, I will. Besides, I am harder to trace, if I just close the door again.

In the veterinary section I take specimens of almost everything labled for cats straight into the inventory. The human section requires thought. I do not need many statines for example, but I do need a broad selection of antibiotics. Likewise I do not need too many psychopharmaka, but I do need barbiturates and analgesics. I know how that sounds, but I am planning for dangerous stuff. And that forces me to destroy the safe used for keeping the opiates. Have you ever tried annihilating only part of an armoured box? This is tricky work. Finally I got the last latch.

Just as I decide to take all of it, because after this much work I want to make sure I’ll never have to do this again, I notice two normal rank auras. Shit. Simply wait down here? Not an option, they may call for reinforcements. Or find the car, thus locating my temporary place through the license plate, where I’ve left a lot of really sensitive stuff.

Come out like a dervish under acceleration and just flee? Also inacceptable. They may already have located and reported the car. I must know. Or they might than just decide to check nearby places. I must interact with them. I decide to wear my body armour. It looks official enough that it may cause them to hesitate.

„Hey folks, I am coming out“ I rather announce myself than trigger something unfortunate.

„Leave all baggage, come out slowly and keep your hands visible. I don’t care how much you need that stuff“ a male voice replies. So they are thinking I am an addict stealing narcotics.

That is probably not ideal, because addicts may act irrationally.

Or so I assume. I have no idea what police work is these days. Or before the emergency, for that matter. Frankly, I never cared. It kind of figures that cutting traffic does also affect, let’s call them „inofficial pharmaceutics“. But that is not knowing for sure. Do they think I am a user or a dealer?

I sense one straight ahead whose main emotion seems to be caution. There is another one concentrating on something. She feels nervous but not afraid. It does not look like people ready to shoot. I step outside with my hands lifted shoulder high. From the right a woman about my height with a can of tear gas in her left hand and manacles in her right hand jumps me and tries to get them over my wrists.

I cannot let them do that. I push to the right. Her body is stopped cold and she is flung back. His hand is only on his firearm; he has not yet drawn it. He is correcting that. My left is already positioned correcly. My assault rifle speaks combined with my aiming ability. Multiple projectiles hit him in the chest. His death is immediate. I can feel his aura just blinking out.

The female police officer has fallen over, but is also reaching for her firearm, albeit in a fumbling manner. She is deeply shocked. I am fast. Fast and strong. Her arm is withdrawing the gun from the holster as my fingers close around her wrist. I squeeze. She screams and lets go. The gun tumbles to the ground. Her legs do something to my legs. That works. Normal humans would probybly have let go of her. I do not. But her weight makes me lose balance and I stumble on top of her. Her knees seek to hit where it really hurts, but her aim is off. My other arm reaches out blindly and I squeeze. I must grab something that really hurts in the female case. Her shriek hurts my ears. My arm pumps back to telegraph a blow. It may have been lethal. „I give up“ – she moans.

I hesitate. Her legs begin working again. I use the arm still around her wrist to squeeze again. She screams again. I roll us around out of reach of the gun just to be safe. My free hand goes for her throats, ignoring her arm. She makes a tactical error in trying to dislodge my arm instead of going for my eyes. I use overwhelming force on her hurt arm to turn her onto her stomach, force her other arm onto her back, too, and conjure two joint sleeves of sturdy fabric to force her arms together from wrist to ellbows. She tries to scramble away and I yank on her ponytail. Our battle involves a lot of screaming. It finally ends when I get my knife out of my inventoty and very roughly make clear that any more movement would result in major arteries being cut.

Shit, shit, shit. I can’t kill her. She has surrendered. I cannot not kill her. She knows much too much. Now what, do I torture a police woman for information, murder her and annihilate her corpse? Has it come to that?