Prologue (continued)

Dear Lin,

I have information regarding your father’s whereabouts.  In exchange for your assistance in certain matters, I will be more than happy to share this information with you.  You will find that I have booked a seat for you on the first Stage coach leaving in the morning for Salt Lake City.  Should you decide that you don’t want to assist me, I do have other means of persuasion.  For your sake (and Yong’s), let’s hope I do not have to resort to them.  I look forward to seeing you in Salt Lake City.  When you arrive, do not worry about finding me, I will find you.

Agent Smith

Prologue

(Knock on the door)

"Enter."

"Agent Wisp reporting, sir."

"Proceed."

"I'm afraid the reports appear to be accurate.  A high priest of the Lost Angels appears to have broken away from the primary congregation.  His goals are far more radical than the Lost Angels themselves.  It appears that Father Jebediah has taken a small group of followers to Utah and is attempting to accomplish what Ezekial could not."

"You mean..."

"Yes, sir.  He is attempting to summon some sort of demon, perhaps far more dangerous than Knicknevin."

"What of his agents?"

"Just like Ezekial's group, they are calling themselves the Flock.  We don't know how many there are currently, only that they are out there progressing his agenda."

"Well done Wisp.  Reserve a ticket for me on the next train to Salt Lake City.  I will be dealing with this myself."

"Sir?"

"This knowledge is on a need to know basis Agent Wisp.  From here out, you and I are the only ones who will be aware of this situation.  Ezekial came very close to ending not just the America's, but the entire world.  We cannot risk widespread panic.  I will 'recruit' some help when I arrive in Utah.  You are to remain here and provide any support that I need."

"Yes, sir.  Goodluck and godspeed."

"Thanks Wisp.  But, you of all people should know by now...god has long since forsaken us."

My Background

"Lin" Watson - Kung Fu Master

Being the only daughter of a Railway foreman, I was around the Chinese culture my whole life. Although at the time I never really understood their plight, I found them and their culture to be very fascinating. Some of the older workers taught me the Chinese language. When I was 5, I was befriended by a young (18 y/o) Chinese worker named Yong. He had been brought to our camp to work on the remaining railway. He hardly spoke English, but we got along well. He called me ‘Lin,’ which means ‘green eyes,’ because of my jade colored eyes.

What I learned from him has grown with me through the years. He taught me more about the Chinese culture than I ever thought I would. He taught me the Chinese fighting style, Kung Fu. Of course, this was taught to me secretively because if anyone found out, he would have been executed, or left to die in the desert. The foremen didn't like people who know how to fight back. It would cause an unbalance in the power structure they took so long to create. Yong taught me how to meditate to clear my mind and use weapons to defend myself, of course those weapons tended to be things we would find around the camp.

I also learned basic blacksmithing from my father to help out around camp. It was rare to have a child around these camps, but since I was helpful and learned quickly, I became an asset. I learned to show horses, make railroad ties, and fix any metal object that broke. Many of the older foremen were impressed with my ability to smith well. Often times I would create different objects and useful items.

By the time I turned 18, the railroad had been completed up to Brigham City, Utah. That is where I decided it was my time to leave. I told no one except for Yong, and left one night in search of better things to the South. Taking one of the horses, I made it to Salt Lake City by morning. I found work in the local smithy shop shoeing horses for traveling riders and fixing anything that was needed. Earning enough for room and board, I decided to stay there for a while.

One day after about one year, a face I barely recognized entered the shop. It was Yong. He told me of the horrible happenings on the railway line - of them being attacked by strange beings. He was able to make it away, but my father and some of the other workers were not so fortunate. He said the strange beings might have followed him there, so it wasn't safe anymore. The next morning we left and headed south, trying to escape the dangers that may be following us.

Yong continued to train me Kung Fu, but this time it was more intense and powerful. He also produced a bladed weapon called a Katana. He trained me how to use it for defense and offence. Over the next year or so we wandered from town to town, staying only a few months at a time, heading further south.