Hand moved the covers away to reveal a woman in her early twenties, currently covered in a Boston Celtics muscle shirt that barely went past her panty...clad crotch. Oriental in looks with a mixture of Japanese and Chinese ancestry on her cute face, she had bobcut dark brown hair that went to the level of her chin and deep brown eyes. As she reached over to tap the control to shut off the alarm on the miniature robot on her nightstand, she was quick to see the time. "Seven-thirty... " Rinrin. The older man sitting in his regalia was all too familiar. The so-called shaman, Michael ‘Mike’ Peterson, closely associated with the younger buckskin-clad boy sitting to Peterson’s right. A boy! Adams viewed with him disdain. Not even of age! Eighteen? Too young to drink, to borrow money, to contract for property. A damned kid!His nemesis!Who were these meddling fools? Where did they get their control, the power, the balls to tear his life apart, to bring teetering to the abyss of catastrophe. More

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