SACRAMENTO, CA., MID-OCTOBER 2003

The former actor nodded at his displaced predecessor.

"You're being more gracious about this than I would have thought."

The man's famous accent was not as much in evidence in these private talks. The former governor merely shrugged.

"The organizers of this recall I'll take to task. But the voters chose--and that's that. Now, there is one last item the governor must know of. Nasty business."

"I'm ready. Classified stuff?"

"More of an open secret. Ever heard of Sunnydale?"

The former actor listened, wide-eyed as he had not been for years. The man he replaced finished up.

"And only a pit is left. Lights. Demonic stench. Storms. A group of about forty young people and their presumed mentor emerged in a schoolbus. They were debriefed by highest-level Black Ops and have since vanished. Any questions, Mister Governor?"

The former actor breathed in, shook his head as though to clear it, then picked up his cell-phone. He placed a call to one of his closest friends in the entertainment business.

"Sly? Yeah, its me. Listen--I'm here with the former governor, and he just pitched me a script that you would KILL for!"