SUNNYDALE PIT, 2003

Agent Finn pointed up, and gave the visiting official a view to remember.

"Is that an iceberg?"

"Yes, sir. We've been flying them in from the North Atlantic shipping lanes for the wildfires, but this one is special, blessed by every major light-oriented holy figure we could find. Once it melts, Lake Sunnydale's biggest problem will be those zebra shellfish I've heard tell of."

The man put down the binoculars.

"I suppose, seeing all this and footage of the carnage in LA, any black ops distraction--even a recall that cost me my job--can be justified. I feel bad for my successor, though. Did you have to plant so many women making those kind of claims?"

"Governor Wilson understood, sir. So long as California is a hotbed for this kind of activity, our officials have to be ready to fall at a moment's notice. People don't understand politics any better than magic--but they do know how to grumble about it. We even have the President himself on such notice, in case the cult of the demon N'Ran makes one last attempt to drain this nation's power grid. Sad, but it is a Texas-based entity."

The soon-to-be ex-governor nodded.

"I just hope I can get with Arnold, and defeat the motion before I leave."

Riley looked over.

"What motion, sir?"

"Oh, well. The Assembly wants to name this place for Lake Wilkins. A bunch of people owed him old political favors. Carry on, Agent Finn."

Samantha walked up, having done a thrice-daily GPS check on the east-bound 'Slayer Schoolbus'.

"Did I hear that correctly? Lake Wilkins?"

Riley grabbed his forehead.

"Honey, politicians operate in a world we will never understand."