//cause i'm still here breathing now// open

[Phoebe Halliwell]

"Grams, for the last time, I've told you. The last thing I remember is an explosion. But when I woke up, the house was...untouched. Like nothing'd ever happened."

"Yes yes, it just doesn't make much sense is all." her grandmother replied impatiently - even standing in the candlelit circle in her ghostly form, she managed to communicate the haughty impatience she always had when she was alive. "And your sisters are fine? Have you checked the Book?"

"Piper and Paige are both fine," Phoebe reassured her wearily. "They went off to pick up the boys." Leaving her stuck here to conjure the snarky irritable ghost of their grandmother to try and get some answers, no less. "And the Book's still here. Still in one piece. ..As if no one'd ever touched it."

Grams waved a hand dismissively, as if she hadn't even been the one to ask the question in the first place. "Well, I suspected as much. I mean, Gods above, generations of Halliwell witches haven't contributed their magic to protect it only to..." By this point Phoebe had already begun to tune out Grams' lecturing a bit - it had just occurred to her that if the Book of Shadows was still safe, she ought to be checking through it since...Grams didn't really seem to have any of the answers. And she continued along that train of thought, almost making for the Book, until one particular question distracted her.

"What of Zankou? If you girls survived, it's possible..."

"...that he survived too. I know." Frowning slightly, Phoebe turned her attention back to her ghostly grandmother. "Finding out what happened to him is the first thing on our list, as soon as..."

"The Nexus." Grams suddenly broke in, her tone unusually urgent. "Phoebe. If the whole house is intact, it may not have even been destroyed."

Phoebe stopped, stiffening a little. She didn't want to tell Grams that this had been exactly what she was afraid of. That she and her sisters had already felt its power coursing through the walls of their home, the ever-so-faint lingering of dread that meant the Shadow existed still. Grams seemed to interpret her silence correctly, however, and her tone was even more urgent when she next spoke: "That could be it, Phoebe. If the Nexus is still in existence - at least. this Nexus, this house, if not the ones you knew..." But she broke off as her image flickered slightly.

"What? Grams, what are you talking about?" Phoebe furrowed her brow in confusion, but Grams was fading still - her image and voice becoming fainter by the second.

"No time! There's no time! Things will be different now, Phoebe. The world may not exist as you knew it. Remember the..." And then, just like that, Grams was gone. Cursing quietly to herself, the middle Halliwell threw her hands up in defeat. Why was it that Grams always picked the most inconvenient times to disappear? She swore that sometimes the elderly ghost did it on purpose.

Scratch scratch scratch.

Ignoring the faint sound coming from downstairs, Phoebe went about putting out the candles and cleaning up the mess the impromptu séance had involved. What had Grams even been talking about? 'The world would not exist as she'd known it'? It wouldn't be the first time she and her sisters had changed destiny; maybe the energy from their final confrontation with Zankou had resulted in some kind of...ripple effect?

Scratch scratch scratch.

"What the hell?" Phoebe mumbled, the continued scratching noise eventually succeeding in getting her attention. Closing the attic door behind her, she headed downstairs and into the foyer, correctly guessing that the sound had been coming from the front door.

SCRATCH SCRATCH SCRATCH! "Mrrrrooooww."

"Alright, alright, I'm c--" but she broke off, freezing at the unmistakable and all too familiar noise of a cat growling. ...She knew that growl. But that was impossible, that would have meant that more than just the house and the Nexus had been reset in this world...that would mean, Phoebe concluded as she swung the door open and stared down at the little creature on the ground... "Kit?!" Kit's response was to meow again, rub against her ankles briefly, then promptly turn tail and bound away out towards the street. Phoebe, who'd had all too much experience with the cat's intuition, reacted instinctively. "Kit! Wait!" she called, only just remembering to shut the door behind her before bounding off after her former familiar. Kit did not slow her pace, streaking down along the sidewalk and continuing down the block. "Come on, Kit, this isn't funny! Where are we going?" Briefly, the witch was vaguely able to appreciate how absolutely insane she must look, out in the middle of the night, giving hot pursuit after a cat...and yelling questions at it, no less.

And then, sharply, Kit turned into a nearby ally - and then Phoebe didn't have much more time to pay attention to Kit before a hulking, snarling mass of fur sprung out at her...


ooc:// lol troll Kit For anyone who wants to jump in, the creature that attacked her is called a wendigo. It looks like this creepin' and you can read a bit about them here.

[Richard]

So. This was San Francisco, eh?

"Jeeze this place is boring."

That was all he had to say. Of course that may have had something to do with a recent run-in with some religious man or other. The crazy guy had impaled him with some kind of ridiculous magic sword or something and the blessing was messing with his magic. It had become a chore just to generate enough of a fireball to scorch rats.

"This is just like that one time I drank holy water on a dare."

So naturally when something relatively interesting happened he was drawn to it like a magnet was drawn to.....something magnetic.

He peered over the edge of a building into the alleyway, propping himself up on one elbow. "Well. Don't see that everyday." He observed for a few seconds, right up until the furred fulking monster of snarling rage did exactly what furred hulking monsters of snarling rage typically do and launched itself at a woman who happened by at a most inopportune time. "Smart money's on the furry thing." He momentarily glanced at the cat. "The large furred thing."

[Methos]

Walking down the street, was Methos, the oldest living Immortal that was more myth among the Immortals that lived. However, the last that the Watchers, the group that were assigned to watch Immortals and not to get involved, that knew of Methos had heard of him, was 10 years ago, when he was last in Paris.

Adam Pierson, who Methos went by now was in the United States, taking a break from his Methos research, as he was the researcher for Methos, who was himself. He was int he city of San Francisco and it was night. Hands in his pocket, he walked, relaxing to the sound of the city and that for a change he was not detecting any other Immortals here, just yet. However, what was odd, was all the supers that had appeared. As he walked, he thought about what he read in the paper, "People with super powers and aliens. And I thought that Immortals were the only odd things in the world," he said to himself as he grinned.

Although his train of thought was interrupted as he heard someone yelling a block away and he stopped and listened. "Come on, Kit, this isn't funny! Where are we going?" and he smirked and looked down the ally as he saw a women turn and heads down it. Shrugging, he started to walk, than he heard another noise, one that was not human nor animal common in a city. Looking, he saw a creature and he thought before he turned down the ally and jogged towards Phoebe, "I'm turning into MacLeod," he says to himself as he appraches and draws his Ivanhoe, a double-edged, one-handed broadsword that fits his nimble build.

"Look out," he states as he picks up his speed towards Phoebe and the Wendi.

[Phoebe Halliwell]

"Look out!"

It was the last thing she heard before she was knocked over, wincing as she instinctively shot out an arm to brace her fall - and felt a jolt of pain shoot up that arm when she connected the the ground. She'd recognized the creature in an instant - a wendigo, of all things. She'd only ever encountered such a creature once before, and that was years ago - she wasn't even sure she remembered how to kill it. Springing immediately to her feet just in time to see a man charge at the creature with a....sword (well that was new), she winced again, this time inwardly. She already knew what the result would be - blades and bullets didn't do much against a wendigo. They were mean. They were smart. And, unlike werewolves, they knew exactly what they were doing while in their beast form.

"Don't let it scratch you!" she warned the man sharply, backing up should he try to...give the sword a rather broad swing. Of course, not letting a creature with massive claws scratch you was more or less common sense...but there was little time to explain about the lycanthropic-esque virus that was involved as well. Piper had learned that lesson all too well, unfortunately. Now that the wendigo had turned its attention on the newcomer, however, Phoebe was given the opportunity to think for a moment. Wendigos...what were their weaknesses? They were former humans whose...whose hearts had been turned to ice. That was it! Fire. Their weakness was fire. The only problem was, she wasn't exactly well-equipped to exploit that weakness at the moment - and she was guessing that the man with the sword (since when did men with swords run around San Francisco, anyway?) would be in a similar situation, unless he managed to have a few matches on him or something.

And where was Kit? It had suddenly occurred to Phoebe that it'd been the feline who'd led her here, but...why? Simply to deal with the wendigo before it could hurt anyone? Well, she was doing a fantastic job of that so far. Glancing quickly around the alleyway, she soon spotted the small feline form well-out of the way of the ensuing battle : Kit was sitting at the base of one of the alley walls, her tail swishing briskly back and forth as she stared piercingly at the rooftop above. Slowly following her gaze, Phoebe spotted some sort of...cloaked figure, it looked like, watching them from above. If they were a civilian, they'd have probably fled in terror by now, so that ruled that out. But if they were some sort of supernatural entity, why weren't they offering any assistance? It...couldn't mean anything good, Phoebe decided, but she didn't have much more time to think on it - because suddenly, a huge, bear-like paw was swiping at her again. Apparently the wendigo had managed to slip away from its other attacker.

Dodging the blow with almost inhuman speed, Phoebe lifted herself up into the air and gave the creature a swift kick right in the muzzle, sending it tumbling backwards with a snarl. She floated there for a moment, hesitating - and then chanced a glance up at the cloaked figure above. "Excuse me? You wouldn't happen to have, like...a flare gun or something on you, would you?" Hey, given the circumstances, just about anything seemed possible.

[dean]

Dean was on the hunt, as usual. This time a creature he had some experience with - not that he really remembered the hunt that pretty much started everything off, but he did remember one thing - Wendigos were vulnerable to fire. But, the Colt would probably do the trick as well. The hunter was driving through the streets of San Francisco, of course in the Impala, keeping one hand on the Colt and his other on the steering wheel. Dean couldn't say he knew exactly what he was looking for here - he never really got a good look at the Wendigo. But from what he knew, it was big, it was furry and it was pretty easy to spot in a crowd. So, he shouldn't have had too much trouble finding it. Dean's gaze was constantly going from the road to every alleyway he drove by.

Eventually, he saw just what he was looking for. A giant furry monster charging towards a woman and... some guy with a giant sword. Okay, maybe he wasn't looking for the giant sword part. Dean knew that weapons like a sword wouldn't work on a Wendigo, or he was at least pretty sure. He didn't remember fighting the Wendigo he fought. After all, he'd seen ghosts, demons and things ten times worse than a Wendigo since then. Suddenly, the woman shouted for a flare gun. Dean raised an eyebrow at that and came to the logical conclusion that she either knew her stuff too well or was a hunter like himself. From his experience with other hunters, maybe staying away was a good idea...

Nah, that thing could kill someone. Quickly, Dean opened the Impala's door and walked out, raising the Colt and firing at the Wendigo as he did so. The bullet just barely missed the Wendigo, whose attention was now turned on Dean. 'Damn it..." Dean muttered, raising the Colt again. But, it was suddenly knocked out of his hand by the Wendigo. He wasn't hurt otherwise, though. As he backed up against his car Dean wondered why every monster he faced managed to knock his gun out of his hand. Dean suddenly got an idea. He pulled a lighter out of his pocket and flicked it open. The small flame seemed to make the Wendigo afraid. Good, now he had a bit of time before the Wendigo knocked that out of his hand too...

[Richard]

[[ASKJGFKL:GJSKLJSD I'mma apologize for how late dis was. I just....I can't even. D: ]]

So, let's recap here. Random furred beasty attacks unsuspecting woman following cat. Strange man with sword marches up to do battle with said beasty. That went as well as expected. Then the aforementioned cat starts....staring at the undead warlock thing on the rooftop. "Shoo." He waved a hand at the cat, and in return all he got was....more staring. "This is why I hate cats."

The woman seemed to have noticed him, and he propped himself up on one arm, waving cheerily with the other one, just as she dodged a blow that wouldn't taken her head off, more than likely. Nice reaction time. "I give that one....an 8.1, maybe." He waved a hand indecisively in the air, before shrugging. He didn't really care. And he continued not caring right up until he was actually spoken to.

"Fire, huh? You mean like this?" He held up one hand like a child's imitation of a gun. With a flick of his wrist, a small tongue of flame lanced out of his fingertip, roasting a passing fly. But it barely qualified as more than a spark. "Yeah I can do that. BUT." He stood up, revealing a rather....conspicuous blade jammed in his torso. "Got a bit of a problem."

He took one step, and....sort of slopped off the rooftop. He landed flat on his face, and fell to one side, though he was immediately back on his feet. "See, this..." He gestured at the blade in his chest. It was a bayonet of some kind, by the look of it. "....is a holy blade. I can't touch it. And it kind of....messes with my powers." He clapped his hands once. "So, let's make a deal here. You, pull this blade out. And I...will turn fluffy over there...." He gestured at the Wendigo, who was currently being held at bay by a lighter wielded by some.....person. ".....into barbecue."

[Methos]

Looking up at Richard and than to Phoebe he ponders for a moment as a gunshot is heard. Looks like someone else is here now," he says as he nods with his head towards Dean. Looking up at Richard he thinks, "Well, if you want that out, I suggest you get down here. he comments as he heads towards the Wendigo's back.

Slowly moving forward, he readies his sword and brings it up please keep that thing busy, Methos thinks to Dean. And since Methos is not able to transmit his thoughts, hopes Dean will do just that. As he approaches, he brings both hands to his Ivanhoe broadsword. Stopping, Methos pulls back and reads into a swing, "Sorry, but I think the lady is not your type," he says to it as he swings, aiming for the creatures neck.

Hopefully he can remove the head of the Wendigo or hurt it enough to give Dean a chance to get another weapon, as the Wendigo is not going to be easy to kill. But neither is Methos.