Three Deep
A year has passed since Buffy empowered a whole generation of Slayers and Spike gave himself to seal the Hellmouth in B7.22 Chosen. No time at all has elapsed since Angel, Spike, Illyria and Gunn faced down an army at the end of the alley in A5.22 Not Fade Away. Now the two groups are about to converge, and the results are destined to be? complicated. Also, shiny.
Join us as we try to answer the epic question of what happens next. All the world's a sound stage, all the players are still under contract, and the production company is blessed with an unlimited budget. Is it tragedy or comedy? You'll never know until that final shot.
Still appearing in another dimension on some Tuesday nights. It must be magic, at the end of the rainbow. Unless, of course, it's science. Come and see.
You can read the text of this work either at the ThreeDeep subsite or on the Ford mainsite. But the subsite is its natural environment, so that's where you'll find all the artwork, as well as links to vids, downloadable PDF copies, a readers' discussion site, and other goodies.
the episodes
Los Angeles, city of lost Angels. A city full of predators, and prey. You see it at night... it used to shine. The world just isn't what it used to be. Starts in an alley. Or backing up slowly, you might say it started with a girl....
Evidence of the disaster loomed on the skyline, and lurked in every heart. Two Boys, not quite unchanging. A godking once a girl, not quite unblending. Two Slayers, still dealing. Two worlds, not quite the same.
Returning to a city no longer Angel's, they move through a dim labyrinth of alleys, docks, and demon bars in a world of plain old trouble. The bverse stalks the averse. Searching, circling. Into, at last, convergence, for the Verses and the Three.
What's more important, the cards or who deals them? Even face value shifts between, beneath them. Mysteries of the down deep. There's no guarantee that what's untold will stay that way. But isn't that part of the rush, the tingle, the fight or flight? Conflict is easy. Resolution's hard.
Not even the Slayer can live entirely in the now, or bury the then. When the masks melt away and the music stops, we are all left to wonder what exactly remains - in the flesh, in the heart, in the memory.
Their postcards from the front just get more sketchy: still tied together at the root, but all too far apart. Things might look better for awhile in black and white. Still it's time to say enough to those hesitation waltzes. Slough off a skin or two, and see what comes to light.
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