Zan’s Prehistoric World Narrative: Zan had finished his two hour detention and was headed back to the quarters he shared with his father, the Fox Spirit. Zan knew his father wouldn’t scold him for the detention. He never did. Instead, his father would just smile and tell him to try to do better. Zan walked along with his head down and his hands shoved in his pockets. The city wide announcements were calling off the names of different Spirits for an emergency mission, but he didn’t bother paying attention, it would be years before he was sent on a mission. “Zan!” Someone had run up and started shouting and shaking him. Zan’s eyes blazed red and his head whipped down to bare his horns at the attacker. “Hey wait!” The boy shaking him said, backed away and raised his hands up. Zan’s brain finally clicked in and he recognized the boy as one of his classmates, the Spirit of Envy. “What do you want, Enn?” Zan asked menacingly. “Haven’t you been listening to the announcements, they have repeated your name three times so far.” The boy stated. Zan tipped his head up toward the disembodied voice of the announcements. The message was repeating again. “…Spirit of Malice… report to Mission Center….for immediate departure,” the announcement recited in its cold computer voice. Zan just stood there. There had to be a mistake, he was just a junior student and still many years from a field mission. This couldn’t be right. Zan continued staring at the ceiling as the announcement repeated. This time a teacher walked up to Zan, his chemistry teacher. “Mr. Malice,” the teacher began, “I suggest you stop staring at the ceiling and get to the mission center. I’ve heard your name called five times now.” Zan took off at a dead run. ‘What could they want me for?’ Zan arrived at the mission center several minutes later to find the room empty except for the mission director. Zan had been here on school field trips before, but this time the transport portals were active. “Nice of you to grace us with your presence, Spirit of…” the director looked down at a reader tablet, though Zan was certain the man already knew his name, “Malice?” “ummmm…” Zan mumbled. “There’s no time for briefing, the others have already departed and you are late,” the director said. “Step through the transport portal, it’s already set to your destination.” “But… but…” Zam began, then held up his wrist, “I only have a level three wrist band implant, it’s barely more then a toy. What can I do?” “You will have to make do with what you have, Mr. Malice,” the director replied, then walked over and putting his hands on Zan’s shoulders began pushing him toward the portal.” Zan’s eyes blazed red at the director daring to touch him, but the man was stronger then the boy demon expected and found himself being propelled toward the transport. Zan spun around as they passed the directors desk. In that moment as Zan turned and the director was distracted with the rebellious young demon, Zan reached out and brushed a gold plated pen from the directors desk and into a trash can sitting next to the desk. Zan caught a brief glimpse as the pen slipped under what may have been the remains of the director’s lunch. “Wait, my father won’t know where I am,” Zan surprised a grin as he tried one last protest. “He has already been notified,” the director explained, then reached up to grab the little demon by the shoulders again. Zan danced back and into the transport, avoiding the director’s touch. He had never willing allowed anyone except his father to touch him. The portal seized Zan and the falling sensation began. Zan had been in the classroom simulator, but this didn’t feel anything like that. Zan’s stomach lurched and rebelled and then somewhere between dimensions, Zan threw up.