She was crouched behind the DJ booth giving the DJ a BJ when Death came clubbing. She heard the weird harmonics entering the music and wondered if Dylon was trying something new--she'd been lounging in his apartment, as the girlfriend of a DJ might during the off-shift from her waitressing job, and she hadn't heard anything quite like it. She couldn't deny that it caught and grabbed your attention, but she wouldn't have called it exactly enjoyable. Dylon seemed to be enjoying it, though, or so she thought at the time as his hips started to shake. She picked up the tempo, thinking that he was going to owe her big-time for this, and he better have been telling the truth when he said she was the only girl who ever agreed to do it, because wasn't that the important thing? Becoming "the only girl"? Then he fell over, so fast that she barely opened her mouth in time to keep from Bobbitting him. Not that he would have cared, she realized, as he convulsed on the floor, foam pouring from his mouth and ears and eyes.


Inspiration: "Clubbed to Death (Kurayamino Variation)" - Rob Dougan
Story potential: High.
Notes: I like the opening, but it's crass enough to be a significant style change and it might be difficult to maintain that over the long run while keeping her sympathetic and fully getting the plot. OTOH, attacking monsters/aliens/DEATH! Sole survivor!

Grace was a hippie, and that's where the trouble all started. If asked, she would have said that she wasn't, but her parents had been (all four of them), and a certain amount of it had sunk in even after she chose to go to a college weighted heavily toward corporate and mil-gov use of sciences. Even after she took a government contract to pay off her student loans at a nice deferred rate. Even after she passed all the security clearances despite her unreformed hippie parents. And so when somebody came to her and gave her the specs for a desired designer aerosol to spray on enemy troops that would result in them being incapacitated for a period of time, but not wounded in a way that would bring a wave of international flashback on them, she thought of love. And that was how the last great age began.


Inspiration: "Trigger Hippie" - Morcheeba
Story Potential: Medium-Low
Notes: Eh.

The snow fell down in soft drifts, swaddling the town, and the children ran to the windows to shout with glee, "It'll be a White Christmas!" their parents smiled and went about the usual business of trimming the tree, arranging the Christmas dinner, and making sure that the presents were all wrapped and ready to go when the lights went on again. The snow drifts didn't even cause concern the next day, when the snow was so high that many churches canceled their service. Everybody huddled around their radio to listen to services broadcast with many jokes about God listening to--

Inspiration: "I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas."
Story Potential: Medium
Notes: And then the snow doesn't stop.