| abstract
| - Florida is an island. Direct nuclear hits on Atlanta and several Georgia military installations triggered a seismic backlash that jarred the peninsula loose from the mainland just below the panhandle; a line drawn from Daytona Beach to Ocala roughly describes the line of separation. Because of the presence of Cape Canaveral, which America's enemies wished to preserve for their own use, central Florida was hit with neutron and chemical weapons. There was thus little physical damage to the region, although life was obliterated from the area. This cataclysm became known as The Change. At first, the surviving Floridians tried to re-establish communication with the mainland via radio, but their efforts were met with silence followed quickly by savage attacks from bands of radiation-crazed marauders. Within a few years of The Change, the residents of the island's northern coast constructed a defensive wall and established coastal patrols. They could see the mainland from atop the wall, a mere 5 miles away. But anyone who attempted to swim across the strait was killed either by the contaminated sea or the voracious creatures that lurk therein; small boats fared no better. There has been no communication between the island and the mainland since the bombs fell, and the common belief on Florida is that no decent human life remains off the island. After The Change, Florida communities withdrew into themselves and became city-states. Against all odds, this social structure has managed to survive for almost 50 years. There is contact and even trade between these "cities", but all alliances are conducted at arms length. There is some traffic between communities by bands of adventurers. Some of these bands are survivalists trying to preserve some semblance of order and civilization on the island. Others are freebooters such as the Killer Clowns (see below) who want to profit from the existing disorder. And there are vigilantes pursuing some private vendetta against Florida's many two-, four-, or multi-legged predators. Other than radiation and nature itself, the only force to be reckoned with throughout the island is the Killer Clowns. The Clowns have perverted the slapstick humor of their forefathers, taking its feigned violence literally, and expanding it into the martial art Slap-Fu. These predatory Pierrots roam the island, extending the power of their ancient but still dangerous founder, Kermit Eli, and his demented family. The Clowns are extremely secretive, and their pantomime communication with each other is impenetrable to outsiders. They are highly skilled in the use any kind of weapon, and unusually fond of the bizarre, such as steel-toed flap shoes, rubber chickens stuffed with ball bearings, spike-studded brickbats, and seltzer bottles filled with acid. The Killer Clowns have fallen strangely silent lately, but it is generally believed that this is a momentary lull. Florida's main urban center, Miami, took a secondary nuclear salvo and was reduced nearly to rubble. The survivors soon split into factions and the former resort city is now something like a latter-day Beirut, but with better dance music. In this fractious atmosphere, with its Byzantine assortment of groups, sub-groups, splinter groups, gangs, sects, mobs, cults, cells, associations, conspiracies, and raiding parties, only one force seeks to restore law, order, and cohesion: Miami Police. Its co-chiefs, Tockett and Crubbs, are known and feared throughout the city. They use informers and infiltrators to penetrate marauding gangs, uncover their plans, and slaughter them in masses before they are able to carry out nefarious crimes. The chiefs have skimmed a considerable layer of criminal scum from the streets with these tactics but they have also made themselves hated targets. Tockett and Crubbs are said to have enormous bounties on their heads and are now never seen in public. Talk on the street has it that the chiefs even have to hide from some of their own men. The Miami Police have been so effective that only three organized factions remain in the Miami underworld: The DeSoto family, the [[Obeah Orders]], and the Bahia Mafia. The DeSotos are bootleggers, distilling and bottling potent rum in their fortress-like compound, and distributing it throughout the island. While it is rumored that there is dissension within the family itself, clan patriarch Irwin DeSoto still maintains rigid control over his dynasty's illicit potables. Another longstanding rumor concerns the purported salubrious properties of the family brew, that it may even contain the rare curative liquid known as Water of Dreams. Whatever the exact truth may be, those who associate with the DeSotos or their product seem to have little to fear from mutation. The mysterious Obeah Orders is a transplanted Caribbean voodoo cult. The Obeahs, known locally as the OhOhs, may seem a benign though eccen- tric clique to the uninformed. Indeed, their readiness to share their healing skills may even make them seem to be a force for good. But those who ally themselves to the OhOhs are said to have access to powerful, arcane, and not altogether innocent concoctions full of "magic." And it is whispered that dark and bloody rituals are practiced in their guarded temple, while subtle yet deadly curses afflict those who defy or oppose the Obeahs. The Bahia Mafia is a more traditional criminal gang, relegating their felonious activities to good old-fashioned thuggery. They are a mere shadow of the organized crime families that existed in Miami before The Change. Nevertheless, Bahia thugs are able to channel their larcenous instincts into prosperous commerce, specializing in gunrunning and fencing. The fact that they are so open, even blatant, in these activities lends some credence to the rumors of police corruption in the Sunshine City. Sandwiched between the Obeahs, DeSotos, Bahia Mafia, and Police, are the Beachcombers, a disorganized scavenging rabble living on the city's ragged margins and the island's rough-and-ready backwaters. The 'Combers are ready to do anything for a price, often at a discount. Even the police are able to do little to stop their nocturnal predations and rarely venture into the Comber neighborhood in northeast Miami. They are particularly hated by the OhOhs, who suspect the 'Combers of being behind the occasional lynchings of lone Obeahs. Compared to this social insanity, Florida's biological disorder seems reasonably tame. Mutation is a fact of life, and a constant threat, but the presence of Dream Water keeps mutation in check in the human population. Among Florida's wildlife, natural selection keeps mutation at a constant level. Most mutated animals and plants simply aren't viable in Florida's wild areas, while those that do survive are hunted down if they intrude into settled areas. A few mutations, however, are quite hardy and far more dangerous than their ancestors ever were. Hypnotic Dreamsnakes, huge Mutarantulas, and other abominations crawl and prowl through the steaming Florida night. And there are strange stories of communities of animals mutated to the point of human intelligence and physiology. It is said that they dwell in the nearly impenetrable depths of the vast marsh known as The Glades, fearing outsiders, following their own hidden agenda, and guarding a mysterious secret. This world is crazy. Too bad you're sane.
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