Writing Prompt Responses

[welian]

When you write a response to a writing prompt, please post it here so that we all can read! Spoiler tags are not necessary, it's okay to have long posts. Just make sure to title your post with the name of the prompt you are responding to.

 

[Necessity4Fun]

-Testing day Prompts-

I put in Spoilers anyway because it was soooo big It worried me~
I wanted to put both of them in one post >.<


Cecilia's day at NY Commonwealth Headquarters:

Spoiler

Cecilia's day at NY Commonwealth Headquarters

(This is the next morning after she swept away the bullies at school by accident and had agents visit her house.)

When Cecilia woke up the next morning, everything seemed normal.
She greeted her grandmother, had breakfast and got ready to go to school, just like everyday. It almost felt like yesterday's bully fiasco had been a dream! That was, until she opened the door and a pair of agents were waiting for her... The very same black suited agents from yesterday.
Yeah...It hadn't been a dream.

"We're here to take you to the NY Commonwealth testing center.", the agent from the left spoke.
"But-But I have class right now...", the Italian retorted
"Oh. Don't worry. We'll give your school the order to not mark your absence today.", the guy in the right answered.

Giving an audible sigh, Cecil followed the tall agents to the car. It seemed like something that would have been taken straight out of a spy movie. She wondered how hadn't any of her neighbors noticed the expensive looking black car, it wasn't suited for stealth!

The girl got in, put her backpack in her lap and looked out of the window.
At this point she was wondering which was worser right now: Class or Commonwealth?
She would probably discover it soon enough.


After being questioned thoroughly as someone typed her every word at a computer, Cecilia was taken to a very big gym separated in section and filled with all kinds of machines.
The place was huge! It seemed to be three times bigger then her school was and the ceiling was so up in the sky that a house could fit inside easily.
The section they took the girl to was extensive. The room stretched in front of her meters and meters away. Cecil could barely see the other side of it.

"Okay Ms. Pellegrini, give those boxes your best shot", the tall lady in fancy clothing, who seemed to be in command of the operation, rushed her.

But the Italian girl had NO IDEA oh how she had done it yesterday or how to do it again! She turned back at everyone who was watching and felt uncomfortable and under pressure.

"It's okay Miss, just think of the boxes as someone who makes you angry or something", one of the white coat men in the room tried to help her.

Cecilia pictured the bullies she had been arguing with, but that actually made her scared of hurting someone rather than unleashing her anger.

"Pretend this is a school competition and your parents are rooting for you!", the other scientist tried to help.

Parents... The parents that are always travelling that she hadn't heard for in ever since she had moved to America. Those parents. Would they even come to cheer on her if she had an actual competition to take part into??

As Cecilia remembered all the times she had wished for her parents to come and listen to her problems and give her advice, a wild wind started inside the room.
It circled around the girl and caused multiple boxes are were stacked to fall and crash on the floor.

"Excellent! Now concentrate that sorrow and anger, aim at the box in the middle!", the lady started yelling instructions, while the other two just stared to their monitors, looking satisfied.

The girl took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She could feel the wind around her bending and circling. She knew it's path before it did. It was like she could see the wind without actually seeing it.
She opened her eyes again. The box in the middle, that was her target. She had to destroy it.
Cecilia's next movements came instinctively.

She extended her arms towards the floor slightly away from her body with the palms of her hands up. The right hand felt pleasantly warm, while the left hand suddenly felt colder. The wind gathered around her hands for a while before she crossed the arms over her body almost as if hugging herself and quickly jolted them back to their usual positions.
It made the newly shaped masses of cold and hot air spin around themselves.

To everyone watching, they knew something big was up due to the shifting of the wind. Though most hadn't expected for a hurricane to come forth before the teenager.

The hurricane went on and consumed the mess of boxes and even part of the glass that separated the sections from each other. One scientist held into his computer tightly afraid it would be sucked too and just released it after noticing the phenomenon was moving away.
After it had gone 10 meters away from Cecilia, it dissipated in matter of seconds and the room was silent again as if nothing had happened. Only the destruction it had caused remained.

The Italian was on her knees, covered in sweat, panting tired and could not believe that the destructive mass of wind had actually come from her.
The tall lady seemed both proud and oddly happy.
Everyone else just looked at each other astonished.


"Congratulations Miss. Pellegrini that's a straight B Rank.", the lady that had been watching informed her.

They weren't inside the gym anymore.
Cecilia found herself back at the room with the computers and lots of cabinets. There was a young looking guy typing in the machine at the other side the table. He was completing the file on the girl as the woman spoke.
The lady's words made Cecil flinch a little:

"I-I don't see how congratulations are necessary...", she let out weakly

The woman just laughed: "Well, everyone was impressed that such a small child like you had such potential... I do think congratulations are valid."

Cecilia flinched again and the woman decided to not mention the gym performance again. Instead she changed the subject:

"Ok. So, according to our experts analysis we think it's better for you to have a dual limiter..."

"A dual limiter?", the Italian asked confused.

"Yes, we decided it's for the best if you have one limiter that is composed of two pieces that work together. That way you would use one bracelet in each arm-"

"Can it please be discreet? and Ehh, Water proof??", she interrupted the lady, "Please, I'm not sure my grandmother can even take news such as these...", Cecilia begged.

The woman gave the teenager a friendly nod: "Sure.", then to the guy in the computer, "Send a message to the lab and ask them to send in the 'discreet' ones"

The guy nodded back and started to type fast.
A few minutes later, an agent, different from the ones the girl had met brought a box and put it in the table.
Inside the box was something that looked like light pink rubber bands, if it wasn't for the fancy looking locks and LEDs they had.

The agent proceeded to put the bands on Cecil's wrists. The right one had a larger lock and more LEDs than the left one.
Both locks clicked when the device was turned on, and the lady proceeded to explain their functions:
"The right one is the Controller band, It has a flip switch, LEDs, a powerful lock and a GPS tracker. Yes, if you turn it all the way down, we'll know.", she completed with a threat tone.

"O-Okay...", Cecilia replied timidly

"Left one is the Auxiliary band. It transmits continuously a signal to the right band and also has a lock with a led. If you turn the Controller band dial down to level 1, the left lock will open. The left band doesn't have a GPS so you could use it for self-defence without consequences. Please only do so in emergencies...", the woman sighed before continuing, "Turning the dial all the way to 0 will unleash both locks. Any questions?"

"No Ma'am.", the girl replied.

"Good.", The woman motioned for the agent to come back with her and moved close to the door before remembering something: "Oh yes. We're going to transfer you to Baltimore next week, pack your things", she informed before,both she and the agent disappeared in the hallway.

"Wait! Why Baltimore, can't I stay?", Cecilia tried to reach for the woman a little too late.

The computer guy noticing the girl's apprehension tried to cheer her up:
"Baltimore is nice. Trust me, you look like you might need the change of scenery..."

Then it hit her. She had been very talkative in the interview earlier, telling of all the occurrences that culminate in her facing the bullies yesterday. It would have be in her file. Probably, the file the guy in the table was reading right now...
"Thank you.", she replied, now calmer.

"You're free to leave now, the agents who brought you in will safely return you home.", he replied by reading the message he had just received at his terminal.

Cecilia grabbed her backpack that was sitting by the chair, and left the room, following the sign that pointed towards the exit. She was really glad there were arrows pointing the right way.
In the end of the last corridor, she caught the sight of the agents from this morning.
This day was over but, the pink bands in her wrist reminded her that her life wasn't going to stay normal for much longer:

"I really hope Baltimore is a nice place...", she wished before exiting through the building's glass door.

Kendrick visits the 'Power Doctor':

Spoiler

The landscape view from the car's window was a clear indicative that the destination was in a complete new place.
A five year old Kendrick had been staring through the glass, face almost glued to it, as the the well known scenery of his house changed to an unknown neighborhood.
Sitting in the back row and holding a teddy bear with an arm, the boy worried about this sudden visit to the doctor. Thus far he had been solely home schooled, and since Petra wasn't allowed to take him anywhere without consentiment, there was no way it meant anything else.
In the front row, the maid and the driver, Mr. Bletcher, were conversing about the trip, unaware that they had left the glass separating the seat rows open and that little Kendri could listen to them.
From that exchange, the five year old had understood he wasn't visiting a normal kind of doctor, but as Petra had just described, it was a 'Power Doctor' and that he would be evaluated by him.
Even more unerved, Kendrick held Ted in a tight embrace and laid his head in the seat's backrest.


"Master Kendrick, we have arrived."

Petra's voice woke him up. He had dozen off for a while, no one could blame him for doing so, any child who had his morning schedule would certainly happen to fall sleep during a long car trip as well.
Still holding Ted, the slight sleepy boy got out of the car. The maid closed the door behind him and as she relayed Igor instructions of when to pick them up, Kendrick looked up to the house standing in front of him. It was huge! Not as big as him own house but still relatively big compared to a five year old child.
It was a simple double floored white house with stairs already by the entrance. The gate was open, probably because whoever was inside had been waiting for them.
Once Petra finished giving instructions, and the car had left, she held the little boy the the hand and both of them entered the house.

Inside, was the setup to a waiting room, clearly for children due to the stack of comics and coloring magazines and all the colorful pencils lying by a table.
However, there wasn't anyone else inside the room but the two.
Kendrick sighed, his parents had done it again, demanding an exclusive time for his appointments and probably paying more for that. All those doctor appointments in his life and he still had never talked to another child...

They didn't have to wait long. Since the place was so quiet, any noise they made could be hard clearly from the other rooms. Soon, a man wearing a bluish lab coat appeared and approached the duo:

"Welcome, I'm Dr. Trenary.", he shook hands with Petra, before addressing to the boy, "And you must be Kendrick, right?"

The five year old, who had hidden behind the maid when the new person approached, poked his head from behind and nodded timidly to answer.
The man giggled softly at the boy's shyness and hurried them up to enter his office so that he could start the exam. Both individuals followed suit, but at the door, Mr. Trenary asked Petra to stay in the waiting room and let Kendri enter alone.
The maid was uncertain if she should leave and asked the boy if he was fine with this. Though not entirely sure if the weird doctor was worth of his trust, he nodded back at her.
She went to sit in one of the waiting room chairs and the other two proceed to inside the office.

The first thing that caught the boy's attention was the gigantic amount of toys inside the room.
It was almost as if the place was suddenly not an doctor's room but a toy store! It had everything, games, dinosaurs, plushes, even a little train! Kendrick stood watching in awe and didn't even took notice of the doctor entering behind him:

"You really like toys, don't you?", the man's voice caused the kid to turn around in surprise. He had seem the teddy bear Kendri had brought along with him.

"Yes sir, I do.", he replied. Though it had been a polite reply, the expression the boy had right now showed how excited he truly was.
Dr. Trenary laughed softly:

"Hey, No need for all that stiffness around here. We're going to be together for a while, so why not get to know each other? I'm Gregory, you may call me Greg like you probably do with all your friends."

The five year old just blinked at the man for a while, he didn't actually had any friends, so he wouldn't know how people treated each other. Still, the friendliness of the man got to him:

"Nice to meet you Greg. I'm Kendrick. Mom calls me Kendy sometimes...", he extended his right arm to hand shake with the man.

It was unusual for a doctor to be this friendly in an appointment, usually they just put him in the table thingy and started whatever checkup they had to do... Speaking of the table:

"Uhh, Greg? Why doesn't your room have a table like the other doctors? And why is it so big?"

"Oh? That's because I'm not like the other doctors! And were not going to make typical checkups today."

That's right. He had forgotten it, Greg was the 'Power Doctor, which also meant he had been allowed to bring Ted along for a reason... Before he could reply, Dr. Trenary completed:

"Okay Kendy, I guess this is enough talking. We both know what we're here today for right?"

"Evaluation.", Kendrick repeated the word he had heard from Petra earlier.

"That's right. So, why exactly are we here, little one?"

"I can make Ted move around!", he replied happily, holding the teddy in his hands and showing it to the doctor

"Oh! That's cool! Can you make him wave at me?"

"Yes!"

Little Kendrick put Ted slowly on the floor, and pictured the toy standing up on his own and waving at Greg's direction. Almost immediately, the teddy bear did exactly as had been expected of it and the boy beamed with proud.

After that little demonstration, the true exams began.
First, Greg would relay instructions for Kendrick to command Ted to do, it started with walking and running through the room, then jumping from a spot to another. A few moments later, it has moved on to shelves climbing and people climbing. Ted had successfully performed every instructions that had been given to him. Finally to finish the instructions test, Greg showed the boy some weird yoga poses from him to picture Ted doing. Since Ted was a plush, it was very flexible and managed to do most poses with ease. The poses he didn't manage to oblige to, we're poses with very bad photos that not even the boy understood could understand how it worked just from the picture.
It showed that unless Kendrick himself understood the order fully, he could not pass it on for the toy to accomplish.

The next test was a distance one.
Dr. Trenary would exit his office with Ted and gradually move farther and farther from the room. Kendrick would stay behind and continuously order the plush to raise his arms. When the arms finally gave in to gravity again, it would mean that was the boy ability's range limit.
At the end of this experiment, it was noticed an impressive range of 263 feet 9 inches. Truly, Ted's arm only went down when Greg had crossed the street and gone closer to the house in there.

After this, Dr. Trenary used his experience in dealing with abilities similar to Kendri to test something experts called 'shared vision'.
He grabbed Ted and hid him inside the storage room, then asked Kendrick to focus on Ted's location and continuously asked him to try to guess what existed inside that place.
At first, Kendrick had just stared at the man confused. He could see what Ted was seeing? What kind of crazy thing was that? but after being reassured by the doctor he did his best.
Since he had been pointed to the overall direction, the boy turned in that direction and closed his eyes, concentrating in what could be beyond those walls, he wanted to know what was beyond the room he was in. It hadn't taken as long as Greg has predicted it would:

"There's an old television...", Kendrick started describing the place he could see

"Yes and close to it?", Dr. Trenary encouraged him to keep going on

"I think those are...cans filled with paint?"

"Yes and?"

"Lots of boxes. Some seem to have lots of papers inside them!"

"YES! That's it! You did it Kendy!", the doctor cheered, "By the way, You can stop it now."

The boy opened his eyes back and turned around towards the man, filled with excitement:

"Wow Greg! That was so cool! How did you know I could do that?"

"Lucky guess", the man laughed, then went out of the room to prepare the next exam.


When Dr. Trenary got back he had brought, along with Ted, several boxes.
The next test would be a strength one. Each box had a weight and was made of different materials, he wanted to have Ted both try to punch through and lift each of the boxes.
It had started just fine, Ted could lift the most lighter boxes, but when it reached the ceramic ones it started getting heavier to lift and the metal ones wouldn't budge. In the subject of punching the boxes, glass and thin wood received quite a blow and cracked, thicker wood just squeaked and the next ones didn't even made a sound when the plush hit them.
Wanting to test how much Kendrick's own will force could influence the toy, Greg asked Kendri to force Ted to pick up the ceramic box. The boy looked uneasy but for the sake of the experiment obeyed.
Ted went own to try to lift the box, it didn't seem to want to get out of the floor, but Kendrick kept on inputing the command to lift it. When it had started to move, Kendrick suddenly stopped the test and approached Ted in a hurry begging Greg to stop forcing the order because it was 'harming him'.

The man was confused for a moment but when he went to check on the plush, he noticed that one of the limbs' sewings had indeed been broken due to the tension put on the toy. Had the kid been able to feel this??
Staring at Kendrick for a while made him realize that the boy itself also seemed to have gotten worn out from all the experiments, he was panting a little.
This seemed like a good moment for a break.


A jar of Orange Juice and lots of consolation later, Kendrick and Greg where ready to start again.
However, with Ted 'injured', they would need something else to use.
Dr. Trenary had suggested that they use one of the many toys that could be found in the room, but the five year old quickly dismissed the idea. When asked why, he had gotten a very interesting reply:

"There aren't any strings to pull at."

Surprised and confused, the man stared at the boy and just blinked for a while, attempting to process the information that he had just received:

"Does your teddy has a string?"

A nod.

Fascinating. He would have to deal with this differently...

"The lady that came with you, who is she?"

"Petra? She's like my babysitter...", Kendrick replied, confused as to why the topic had gone from Ted to Petra out of a sudden.

"That works. Let's go talk to her"


It got decided that for the sake of the exams, Kendri was to have a session for the next two weeks where he would get to know and play some of the toys in the room. Obviously, it was a theory that could or not could not bear fruit in the end of the period.
With Ms. Haywood's approval, Petra agreed to the extended testing period.
Kendrick had enjoyed the idea, not only he got to play with the toys but, since it was something being added to his already full schedule, some classes had to be either removed for the time period or had their times changed.

Thus, the boy went to Dr. Trenary's office in the same time as before. There he played, named and cared for 9 of the toys from the local collection, among them a panda plush, a dinosaur miniature and a tiny metal train.
When the 2 week period was done, Kendrick was able to, with some mild struggle, manipulate all the toys he had played with and proved completely capable of pointing out which ones he had played it even when surrounded by ones that looked exactly like the toy in question.

Since it had been proven the exam could continue, the last test was the quantity one.
Greg lined up the nine toys the boy had played with and asked him to send a orden, gradually raising the number of toys to receive such command.
Until 5 toys consecutively obeying, either the same command or different ones, had been going fine. When he tried to add a sixth integrand to the party, however, he was welcomed with a faint headache and asked to stop the test.
The last part would be to check what was the 'shared vision' limit of toys.
After putting each toy in a different spot on the room, Dr. Trenary asked Kendrick to focus on their location and describe him what he could see.
It was easy to switch between each toy's view, however, when ordered to focus into he views of many toys at once, nothing happened, it was as if the shared order couldn't reach any of them.

With all the testing finished, the man compiled all the information he had acquired into a single computer file and concluded the exam:

"With this, it will be our last appointment. You're a C-Rank, there you go.", he handed the boy a shiny yellow sticker with a C on it, "Now we have to get you a limiter... Tell me something you would wear."

"Uhhh, A cool-looking ring!", the boy replied, while ripping the sticker out of the paper and proudly pasting it at his little jacket.

The doctor searched in one of his drawers, grabbing one of the bags and bringing it closer to Kendrick:

"It doesn't look all that cool, but it's still a ring.", he opened the bag and put it on Kendrick's middle finger of his right hand, glad it had fit perfectly, "Okay so, slide it left to turn it on and right to turn it off. Don't turn if off without an important reason though, the agents will stop by your house if you do so.", he glanced at the little boy who didn't seem to believe his words at all, "I mean it! The agents will definitely come to check why you turned it off!", the man reinforced while turning the limiter on for the very first time. The tiny LED lit up and the apparatus started humming softly.

Kendrick, however, didn't look very amused.

"I promise I'll send Ms. Combs the address of a place where you can make it cooler when you're older, ok?", he bargained with the little boy.

"Okay..."

"That's it then, we're done. You can go outside the room now."

The five year old turned towards the door.
However, he did not move closer to it and instead turned back at the doctor:

"What is the problem, little one?"

"May I make a req- recu- Uhh, C-Can I ask a question?", Kendri had tried saying the word request, but had failed miserably at it.

"Sure! What's it?"

"Since this is the last visit. Can I take my new friends home with me?"

It took Dr. Trenary a couple of minuted to comprehend the boy's request.
Then it hit him. He had allowed the kid to name and play with the toys, he had let them bond. And now he was separating them, possibly forever.
There was no way anyone with a heart, could resist the hopeful expression the boy had in his face right now...

"Of course. I'm sure they would be happier going with you than staying inside my office anyway.", it was also true that he could buy new ones later...

Kendrick opened a wide smile and gleamed with happiness, he had never seen the boy so happy through the appointments:

"Thank you, sir!!", he bowed down for a while and quickly got back up to collect the nine toys he was going to take home with him.

After managing to hold them all, the boy walked outside the room, towards where Petra had been waiting.

The maid watched as the five year old came to her direction, slowly, since he didn't want to drop the huge pile of toys he was carrying.
Even though it was such a lovely and heartwarming scene, there was a single thought bothering the maid at that moment:

"Oh-Oh. Mr. and Ms. Haywood are definitely not going to like the news..."

 

[Necessity4Fun]

"Your character finds a wallet lying on the sidewalk. Going through it, they see it contains the owner’s driver’s license and a hundred dollars. What does your character do with the wallet?"


Cecilia would make taking the wallet, with all of it’s contents, to the police office her top priority.
The person who lost it would be super worried for losing it so, the faster she returned it, the sooner they would have it back!
Though, she probably doesn't know the way to the office so, asking for directions might take some time…


Now for Kendrick, taking in account that he DID see the wallet and DID care enough to pick it (which is a rare thing), he would probably avoid having yet another thing to deal with, and simply put it back exactly where he had found it.
He doesn't need the money and going ALL THE WAY to a police office, seems to be too much of an effort for such a simple thing.
The owner will realise it’s missing and come back to pick it up, right?

 

[Gus]

CRY HAVOC AND LET SLIP THE DOG DAYS OF SUMMER!


Aaron held up a hand for quiet. It being a late summer class, it consisted of mostly older students, who were by now well acquainted with his particular habits as a teacher, and the hubbub died down almost immediately. Then he heard it again, the tap-tap-tap-tap-tap. Five times. Unobtrusive. Brief delay. Repeat, marginally louder. Aaron pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, summoning his patience.


It was McNabb. Had to be.


“Fathiyya, would you get the door please?”


The elderly teacher stumbled forward when the door opened, catching himself at the last moment as if nervous about entering the room without being invited. His seemingly perpetual grin had been replaced by a look of something resembling puzzlement. When the silence had extended a few beats past what was strictly normal, Aaron sighed and spoke again. “Good afternoon, Allen. Please come in.”


“Ah. Yes. Yes of course. No need to stand on ceremony, I suppose. Hello everyone! Glad to see you are all still human... Like me... Anyway, I have a confession to make: This is not a purely social call. No... I-- I have a question. About normal activities during summer session.”


Aaron waited. A deer ran past in the hallway. He blinked, but said nothing. Eventually, Allen continued speaking.


“As everyone else at the facility seems to have turned into animals already, they seem disinclined to answer when I ask them. But you haven't turned into animals yet, so perhaps you could tell me: Is this a 108 traditional summer activity? Everyone seemed so matter of fact about it that I thought perhaps it was perfectly normal, but that I had missed the memorandum. I would like to stress that, while intriguing, it has been immensely disruptive to my lesson plans for the day. Not that I am upset. Emotional composure is my speciality, as you well kno-”


At that moment the old chatterbox was interrupted by a bloodcurdling roar as an enormous tiger with a prominent scar across its muzzle pounced on him from behind. As the fragile looking old man's forehead smashed into the floor, a faint


“Oh, dear!”


can be heard, muffled by the weight of the tiger pressing down on its prey. Before anyone could react, it tore a tremendous gash in his back. Blood sprays from the wound, but suddenly stops in mid air, squirting back into the gash as quickly as it came, like a camera rewinding. The tiger still had McNabb pinned to the floor however, and snarled at the other three occupants in the room. Morgan shrieked in terror, a high pitched, almost soprano range scream, with interesting subharmonics, and then was suddenly cut off by a curious transformation: his body shrank away, reduced to a torpedo like structure perhaps two feet long, growing flippers and long fleshy whiskers, and flopping to the floor. The catfish that had been Morgan rolled around a bit, then seemed to get its bearings and began waddling swiftly toward the hall. The tiger growled low in the back of its throat watching the fish make its escape, as if trying to decide if it might have more meat than the stringy old buzzard it had already caught. Fathiyya held out her hand to the tiger saying hesitantly “Nice kitty?” Even as she said it, horns sprouted from her head, long curved and ridged ones. Her ears shot up as her nose shot down and as she fell to all fours, her hands and feet turned to hooves and pale reddish brown fur sprouted all over her body. Her dark eyes rolled in terror, showing the whites as she made a prodigious leap over the tiger into the hallway and bounded away. The tiger, for its part, had no trouble choosing between an old man, a catfish and an impala, and instantly turned to pursue.


“McNabb, what the hell just happened?”


“Oh, I was hoping you knew... so this is not a planned activity then?”


“No.”


“Well I thought it was odd, everybody turning into animals like that, but they all seemed to know what they were doing, so I just 'went with it', as the kids seem to like to say.”


Aaron had no idea what to say to this, so he remained silent, pondering what to do next. Before he could formulate a plan, a giant of a man ducked through the doorframe of his classroom, and boomed out:


“Stragglers, Eh? Well, I'll soon have you set right, gentlemen! It seems my Spirit Animal Conversion field only works when the A6G23 powers of another super are deliberately invoked. You two strike me as the type who's powers are just always on, am I right or am I right! HAH! Lucky for yourselves, I can convert anybody if I concentrate on them hard enough! Observe!”


The stranger raised his hands and faced his palms toward McNabb. He grimaced and a wild energy filled the room, like an impending thunderstorm. The air whipped around McNabb ruffling the white tufts of hair which had sudddenly sprouted from his bald head and spread rapidly across his body. He dropped to all fours as short stubby horns sprouted from his forehead. His face elongated, his perpetually creepy grin stretching and bending while his ears migrated upward and grew more pointed. No less creepy now that it was filled with a snaggle of goat teeth, formerly Allen McNabb opened his mouth wide and let out a plaintive “MEH!” swiveling his eyes around to look up at Aaron as if to say, “Is this normal? My joints feel stiff; might fall over. That's normal though, right?”


Aaron, who had been briefly mesmerized by this performance, suddenly shook himself and grabbed up his erstwhile colleague and made a break for the door, brushing the stranger aside as if he weren't there.


“Come back!” the stranger yelled, “How will you find out who you really are if you don't let me help you?!”


“MEH!” shouted Allen.


Aaron ran like the devil was after him. He ran like he had never run within his memory, pounding down the hall like... well, like a middle aged man who has packed on a few too many pounds. The stranger caught up to him before he even reached the stairs.


“Woah there! There's no escape you know! Where would you even go? You're the very last one! Hold still now, and let's have a look at the real you...”


Something came over Aaron then, something wild and freeing, bubbling up from deep down inside his soul. He felt himself changing and felt nothing but gratitude to the stranger as his hands tightened into paws, razor sharp claws erupting from the tops of his new toes, and midnight black fur rippling across his body in luxurious waves. He turned to face the stranger, joyous feelings overwhelming his natural reserve, and stood up on his hind paws, kneading the stranger's knee lovingly. The kindly fellow leaned down to scratch Aaron behind the ear, and it was heaven. Unbidden, a deep thrumming sound erupted from somewhere so far back in his throat it vibrated in his chest, filling him with mellow thoughts of the days ahead, the sunbeams he would lie in. Life was better this way. Better than what, he had no idea anymore.


It could have gone on forever this way, except that the stranger scratched a little too enthusiastically and Aaron's rich black fur began to shed. Some of it fell across his nose. His eyes crossed, then closed. There was an explosion of gargantuan proportions...


When Aaron and Allen awoke, hours later, on the cold tile floor, the stranger, as well as all the students, had gone. Allen looked puzzled. Aaron raised an eyebrow and quoted from memory. “I have had a most rare vision. Methought I was... there is no man can say what. Methought I had... there is no man can expound upon this vision. The eye of man hath not heard. The ear of man hath not seen. The hand of man cannot tell, nor the tongue concieve what was in my dream. Man is but an ass, if he would try to explain this dream.”


Allen looked at him with widened eyes and spoke in a hushed tone: “Mr. Mallory! Such language! I have never heard such a speech from you!”


Aaron nodded sagely. Speaking little made for more impact when you finally-


“In school, you should use euphemisms such as backside or bottom. Better yet, proper terms such as buttocks or gluteus maximus! What might the students think if they heard such language from you?!”


Aaron sighed and picked himself up to head home.

 

[Gus]

MAMAN (Meet the Parents prompt)


Lucas was... not? All his particles were still milling about, but without any sense of self to bind them together and give them purpose, they just sort of whizzed on aimlessly, recruiting others of their kind to the cause. What cause, exactly? Being fundamental particles, none of the new recruits stopped to ask questions. A philosopher might have joked that this made Lucas the proverbial uncaused cause, but that joke is no funnier with no audience than it would have been with one. Presumably.


The wave of particles surged on, gaining size and strength and power from the electrical grid as more and more electrons were drawn into the crowd. It is difficult to say how much longer this process might have continued before some crisis point was reached; there is a limit to how many electrons can be removed from the grid before the metal comprising it begins to degrade. What might have happened at that point is, fortunately, the purest speculation. Something else happened instead. Equally curious. Equally unexplainable. Somewhere deep in the wilderness of wires, far from the city where they started, the particles found a new point of focus. A presence drew them together and bade them wait.


Quiescence does not come naturally to electrons, but then, neither does cooperation. They obeyed. Their pace slowed. Ever so gradually, they came to a stop, freezing out in a sort of crystalline lattice never seen before, and unlikely to exist ever again. And for the first time in all the eons of creation, they collectively caught their first figurative breath. Somewhere within the lattice, Lucas stirred as if from a deep slumber.


“Where am I?”


How odd. He spoke aloud, and yet there was no sound. There was no sensation of any kind. Neither heat nor cold, dark nor light. No sense even of existing, of taking up space in the world. There seemed to be... nothing else in the universe but his voice, which made no noise; the vibrations echoed purely within himself. As the echoes faded away, he felt a little shiver of fear. If all that remained of him was a pattern of vibrations, what would he be when the vibration faded? What if, when the echoes were gone there would be nothing of him left at all? Fighting against panic, he spoke again.


“Hello? My name is Lucas Maxwell Marsolet. Can anybody hear me?”


His voice quavered a little, but the vibrations felt different this time. In some indefinable way they reverberated differently, as if something else besides himself was reflecting them now. He wondered if this was what echolocation felt like.


“My little Lucas. How did you come to be here, dear heart?”


Lucas trembled. That voice. Was he...?


“Maman? Am I dead?”


“No. You are between places, but you are still bound to the material world. You still vibrate among the particles, reverberating in space and time. Limited. Your body, however, is broken beyond repair. If you were almost any other being in all of creation, you would be free of it now. Free to move on.”


His mother's voice moved through him, stirring memories and images. He felt the urge to laugh and to cry at the same time, but lacked the means to do either. Her voice was almost palpable, like an embrace. The comfort of it, so long absent from his life, made him feel like a child again. Part of him wanted desperately to give in to that feeling, to regress to that state of innocence and absolute trust, and never face any troubles or cares ever again. He could feel himself wrapping around the dying echoes of her voice, clinging tightly to it, trying make it stay, force it to cradle and comfort and protect him.


“None of that, now. I raised you better than that, I think.”


The voice was still there, echoing through him, still gentle and comforting, but expertly extricating itself from his clumsy embraces, forcing him to stand on his own two feet, as she had always done. Of course he had no feet, but the power of the metaphor was more than enough to overwhelm such a trivial detail of fact.


“You said 'Free to move on?' Maman? So there is something more? Something... after?”


“That is not something I can discuss with you, Luc. Your pattern is still part of the material world. You have a choice to make. A choice not many get: you can either let go of this pattern, releasing these particles back into the world, or you can forge a new home for it from them. A new body, as you might say.”


“And if I let go, what will become of me?”


His words echo hollowly again; his mother is no longer with him, if indeed she ever was. For a time he hesitates, floating in the non-space between the world and the beyond. The indecision is hardly sustainable, however. In any pattern of change, the need for resolution is paramount. If he could sigh in his present condition, he would.


“Je t'aime, maman.”


Decision time.

 

[Captain Hesperus]

Training Day


Danny sat in the simple steel chair, behind the simple steel table in the featureless interview room. The walls were a matt gray color, as was the floor. The wall in front of the table featured a one-way mirror, heavy rivets around the frame indicating that it would take more than a normal person's strength to penetrate it. The door was the only other interesting feature in the room, opening inwards, it's inner frame was angled so that once closed, there was almost six inches of contact between door and doorframe on three sides. Danny sat silent, his cuffed hands resting on the table, eyes fixed on the mirror.


They'd come for him as he was leaving school. Of course, it'd been the middle of the day, since he'd been sent to the Principal's office for fighting again. His opponent had been sent to the school nurse with a concussion. Rather than go to the office, Danny had just bypassed the usual process and 'expelled' himself. He'd walked down the front steps and there it was, the black sedan with its blacked out windows. A man in the 'Commonwealth Uniform' of black suit and tie, white shirt was leaning against the car and he was watching.


"Hello Danny, we need to talk.", was the only thing the Suit said.


Then, before Danny could reply or even think about running, two other Suits stepped out from the shelter of the school steps and clapped handcuffs on him. They hustled him into the back of the sedan, one sitting each side of him, while the speaker got into the driver's seat and drove smoothly away. The journey downtown was quick. Traffic lights seemed to be always green as they approached and road junctions clear of jams as they traversed them. It was as if someone was making sure Danny's trip to wherever was quick and unlikely to allow him a chance to bail. The car made a swift left turn and entered an underground parking structure, pulling up right next to the secure elevator.


The three men hustled Danny out of the car and into the elevator with only a moment of fuss from the young boy, which was ended by the expedient act of the two Suits from the back seat hooking their arms under Danny's armpits and lifting him bodily off his feet and carrying him into the elevator. From there it was a quick transfer to this room and here he'd been since. It was at that moment that the door opened and the driver Suit walked in. He carried a dossier folder under one arm and a laptop in the other. The manilla dossier was bulging with paper and the cover had Danny's full name on it.


"Daniel Travis.", the suit said as he sat down on a chair opposite the boy brought in by another Suit who hung back by the door. It was a statement, not a question.


"What the fuck do you want?", he replied sullenly, "And take these fucking things off, it's not like I'm going anywhere."


"I know that far better than you do, Daniel. This building is designed to counter the efforts of the vast majority of your kind and is staffed by people able to suppress anyone beyond this building's capabilities."


He fished a small key out of his jacket pocket and unfastened the cuffs, tossing them to his associate.


"As I'm sure you're smart enough to know right now, we've been watching you for some time. Since early last year, in fact. Since shortly after your eleventh birthday.", he said, then paused as he considered something, "We offer our condolences on your father's death. His records indicate he was a fine, upstanding officer."


"Fuck you and fuck your condolences.", Danny growled back, "They're as worthless as you are."


The Suit sighed and flicked open the dossier. Danny could see pictures of his house, his old schools (many, many schools), his mother and his brother in uniform. The Suit saw Danny react slightly to the pictures of his family.


"It's okay, Daniel, your mother has been contacted by our office and is on her way here. She'll take you home once we're finished. Your brother would have come, but he's doing his annual firearms competence assessment and can't get out of it. But they aren't of interest to us. You are."


The honest tone in the Suit's voice relaxed Danny's mounting concern. He sat back in his chair.


"I need a drink, I missed lunch."


The Suit nodded and his associate turned and left the room. HE returned minutes later with a slightly cold can of diet soda and a packet of vending machine sandwiches. Free food was not something to turn his nose up at so Danny set about it without worrying if it was laced with poison or some other drug.


"You aren't living at home any more, are you? I'm sure your mom is worried."


"I live at the Y. Mom's constantly on the phone to me, but I don't want to go back."


"Why is that?"


"None of your fucking business, that's why."


The Suit nodded again.


"Daniel, we're interested in and concerned about you.", he said, opening the laptop and letting it spin up, "We've been interested since you first came to our attention , three months after you know."


He turned the laptop around to show a video window. A tap of the keyboard and a shaky cellphone video started up. It showed a teenage girl videoing herself as she walked down an urban street, complaining about 'Cassandra being a bitch' but suddenly lurched around to the sound of car tires screeching. The video showed a grey two-door unsuccessfully trying to grind to a halt mere feet from a toddler in the middle of the road. Moments before the inevitable impact, a kid in a hoodie raced out and grabbed the toddler and put his own back to the swiftly moving car. The impact was strange. Instead of the young boy and toddler getting hurled through the air, nothing happened other than the car coming to an abrupt stop and the driver's airbag deploying. Then there was a rumble and the paved road shattered into a crazed pattern centered on the boy. Alarsm in cars parked alongside the impact went off in a cacophony of wails, bleeps and whoops, even as the videographer swore profusely. The boy stood up and the toddler laughed and ran to her obviously distraught parents. The father of the kid ran to the boy and what appeared to be a discussion took place. It quickly devolved as the boy shouted, "Asshole! How much is your kid's life worth to you?"


The father then swung a punch at the boy's chin which had little effect. The response however, a punch to the gut staggered the grown man and put him on the ground in the fetal position. The boy shouted more abuse, then ran off as he realised people were starting to gather. The video ended by lurching back to the teen girl, a shocked expression on her face as she declared, "This shit's going on MyTube, biiitch!".


"You never told your mom about that, did you? Why not? Did you not want her to be proud of both her sons?"


"I didn't want her to know her youngest son is a freak."


The Suit was the one to flinch as Danny used the term that had become so synonymous with Supers these days.


"So you don't like your powers?"


"Fucking hate 'em.", Danny replied, before taking a slurp of the barely-cold soda, "Why does this shit all happen to me."


"It's not just you, Daniel. Others have these powers and go on to make a positive contribution to society."


"And some of the motherfuckers get jacked up on some shit or other then murder a cop doing his duty."


The Suit frowned, "Yes, Lightning Volt. It was unfortunate that he turned to drugs to help him cope with his responsibilities as a Vigilante. He-"


"HE KILLED MY DAD!", Danny snapped back, slamming his fists down on the table so hard the laptop jumped and the soda can fell and rolled off onto the floor, spilling its contents everywhere.


"FUCKING ASSHOLE TASED HIM TO DEATH!", Danny continued, standing and kicking his chair away, "All my dad did was respond to an 'armed robbery alarm' and when he arrived that buttfucker walked out and electrocuted him. He was so badly burned, we couldn't have an open casket!"


Danny was breathing heavy now, his eyes glancing sideways to the Suit by the door who had a hand inside his Commonwealth-issue jacket. The Suit sat at the table was unmoved, instead he had moved the dossier and was mopping up the soda spilt on the table with a pocket handkerchief.


"Sit down, Daniel.", he said calmly, unfazed by the teen's outburst, "This is what worries us. Your powers are growing, expanding. We're worried that soon you might not be able to control them."


"I can handle it. I'm not a freak."


"Can you though? Can you handle it? This is video footage from the First National Bank on 18th. You know it, it's where you collect the money your mom and brother deposit for you."


He turned the laptop around again and started another video. This time it was security camera footage, along with date and time data along the top edge. It depicted a standard bank interior, as seen from an elevated position, perhaps fifteen feet up the wall, teller booths along one wall, benches in the middle with their little pens on chains, desks and seating areas around the edges. By the door was a security desk complete with an armed security officer who looked to be in his fifties. As the footage rolled, Danny could be clearly seen walking in, wearing his usual attire of cargo pants and a hoodie. He started to approach the tellers when two men bearing assault rifles and wearing masks and body armor rushed in. One of the men clubbed the old security guard in the face with the butt of his rifle and the old guy hit the floor hard while the other aimed his gun at the patrons of the bank. All the panicked bank patrons hurled themselves to the floor. All except Danny. Danny was watching the second gunman who was continuing to kick and beat the security guard, who writhed on the floor in agony. Danny could be seen pointing at the guard and the two robbers paused in their acts. The one suppressing the patrons pointed his gun at Danny and gestured to the floor. Danny turned and flicked him the bird before advancing on the one stood over the injured guard.


That robber then turned his gun on Danny and raised it threateningly. Danny threw his hands wide, daring the gunman to shoot. The gun flared silently, but Danny did not respond. Instead, the stone floor of the bank rippled and both gunmen staggered. Danny then started to rush the man stood over the guard, but the armed man recovered before he'd got close. The gun opened fire again and again, but Danny continued advancing. Once he got toe-to-toe with the robber, his hand snapped up and connected with the man's jaw. The gunman's feet left the floor. He flew upwards, out of the camera's field of view and moments later landed on the floor in a shower of plaster and ceiling tiles. The other gunman also started shooting but this time Danny ran at him. He shoulder-charged the second robber and the guy was catapulted through the air to slam into the armored windows of the bank. The glass cracked and crazed behind him and the criminal hit the floor hard, apparently unconscious. The video ended as Danny ran from the bank.


"Do you ever go back there? To that bank?", the seated Suit asked, "The security guard recovered okay, but took that as a sign he needed to retire. He moved upstate to be closer to his grandkids. The crooks got hard time. Once they got released from the hospital. Lot of people's lives were saved that day. You were a hero."


Danny didn't respond, instead he picked up his seat and sat back at the table. The Suit by the door also relaxed.


"Two things are going to happen today, Daniel. One you have no choice whatsoever over and the other you do. First, you and your powers are going to be assessed and rated. This will lead to you being fitted for a Limiter, a higher-level one I'll be guessing. The second will be up to you. Either you will be sent to a secure facility where you and your powers will not be a risk to others or you'll submit yourself to one of the AEGIS training facilities, 108 in fact, to learn how to control your powers and gain your Blue Card."


"I don't wanna Blue fucking Card."


"Fine, that's a choice you can make, if you complete your training."


The Suit closed his dossier and picked both it and the laptop up.


"Wait here and someone will be along to take you through your tests."


With that, the two Suits left the room. Danny sat and watched them as they left. He was determined that he wasn't going to submit to any tests they put him through.


He was sat waiting for several minutes, concocting a variety of insults for whoever came to take him for testing. It was only after five minutes that he noticed a slight shadow at the door. He'd not really noticed it before, since he'd been glaring at the window, but as time had gone by he'd paid more attention to the door. There was a definite shadow, along the long edge of the door. It was open! Only slightly ajar, but open. Obviously the Suits hadn't pulled it fully shut behind them and the locks had not engaged. Danny paused, suddenly unsure. This had to be a trick. He'd go to the door and they'd be stood outside waiting. He decided to wait. Ten more minutes passed and he continued to glance at the door. He couldn't hear anything and no one had come yet. Cautiously he approached the door and listened at the crack. Nothing, no sounds of anything that might betray the presence of another person outside. With a single finger, he gently pulled the door slightly more ajar. It moved easily but there was still no indication that anyone was there. He took a breath then pulled it open. He was confronted by a corridor. It stretched away both left and right, lined with identical unmarked doors. There was no one to be seen. Danny snuck out through the door, expecting all the doors either side of him to spring open and a horde of Suits to come pouring out like that old sci-fi movie with the guy in the computer-generated world. Nothing. No one. danny started to move down the corridor, looking for anything that looked like an escape route. A green sign at the end of the corridor pointed the way to the emergency exit. Bingo.


Danny picked up the pace, jogging as quietly as he could. He was almost at the end of the corridor when he heard the whine of a small motor. He looked up to see the glass dome of a camera. A moment later, a klaxon went off and a female voice came through the PA.


"Unaccompanied Super in Sector B. Containment teams move to Sector B and secure. Activating internal defences in Sector B. All personnel activate personal IFFs."


Danny could hear other noises over the klaxon, the sound of clipped shouts and heavy boots. He gave up on the stealthy approach and started to run in the direction the sign pointed. Behind him, he heard a voice, "That way! Subject heading east!"


He didn't risk a glance back and was grateful for that as a pair of heavily-armored men turned into the corridor ahead of him from one side. One of the men carried a shotgun which he levelled and fired at Danny. The beanbag round would have normally floored or staggered a normal human, but for Danny it was like a tap on the chest. He responded by sending a shockwave through the ground, knocking both men over in the narrow corridor. The teenager then jumped over the confused jumble of bodies and kept running. Another beanbag hit him in the back of the leg, but he didn't stumble. He kept running, feeling the stored energy from the hit fade over the half-minute or so. He couldn’t stop running, ducking down corridors whenever his route was blocked by the armored security men. But they seemed to be closing in and getting more violent. There was a crack inches from Danny’s left ear and as he glanced back over his shoulder he saw one of the men now carried an assault rifle. In front of him, the signs indicated the emergency exit and, indeed, the door did have a push-bar opener similar to those on fire exit doors. It also had a solid steel bar holding the doors shut with a large padlock fixing the bar to the doorframe. Danny ran at the door in a dead sprint, without ducking or dodging. The shots of the assault rifle zipped past a couple more times and then he felt the familiar sensation of bullets hitting his body. He held onto the energy, willed it to stay within him and not dissipate. The door was only feet away so he threw himself into the air and punched out at the steel bar.


The bar, door and doorframe hurtled outward from the side of the building in a cloud of pulverised brick and cinderblock. Through the dust cloud, Danny staggered. He was cradling his right hand and forearm which was already swollen and bruised. He looked around, trying to orient himself and figure which was the quickest and easiest to effect his escape proper. Then his eyes fell upon the woman. She was tall for a woman, five feet nine or five feet ten. She was athletically shapely and her violently-red hair was asymmetrically cut with the right side shaved almost an inch above her ear and the left side with a longer cut that hung down to her jawline. She was dressed in something similar to a tactical combat rig, close-fitting fatigues with webbing carrying various items of equipment. She nodded at Danny, a nod of acknowledgement, then ran at him. Something inside him told him that she was an extreme threat and he tried to run, glancing back over his shoulder to see what she was going to do. He saw her suddenly take flight, a cloud of hissing steam replacing her legs and trailing from her arms. She flew over him and landed ahead of him, taking solid form as she touched the ground.


“Kid,”, she said in a smooth voice with a familiar accent, “You can’t outrun me and you sure as hell can’t outfight me. Let’s go back inside and finish your testing.”


Danny didn’t stop running, he closed the distance to the woman and tried to throw a left hook. His hand flew straight and true, but the moment it made contact with her jaw, she became smoke and he passed through her. He barely managed to keep his balance, throwing out his wounded right hand to steady himself against a dumpster as the woman reformed again.


This time, she didn’t reform. Instead, the smoke cloud rushed around him and changed from an ashy gray color to a violent yellow. Danny cried out as his eyes and nose suddenly started to burn, then choked as his throat tightened up. Tear gas? He stumbled out of the cloud, blind, breathless and disoriented. Through tear-filled eyes he saw the woman take form again. She seemed unsteady herself and when he threw another left at her, this time it connected. But it was weak. It struck her shoulder and she caught his arm before he could pull it back. She twisted it around and got him into an easy armlock, then threw her free arm around his neck and applied enough pressure to choke out the debilitated teen. Danny cursed and swore and struggled for a few moments before his strength and his consciousness escaped him and he went limp. Once he stopped resisting, the woman gently lowered him to the ground. She checked him for a pulse and breathing, then sighed with relief as she found them. Moments later, the security guards caught up to her, along with the Suit who’d driven the car and interviewed Danny.


“Thanks for the help, Vape.”, the Suit said with a nod, “Though, last time I checked you were in New York.”


“That’s why I was here. Came to renew my Baltimore Blue Card”, Vape, the woman, responded, “With Mom getting sicker, I figured I should stick closer to home. Especially since you never visit her.”


“Jessica, you know things are complicated for me-”


“Bullshit!”, she replied, stepping back to allow a couple of medics to carefully lift the unconscious Danny onto a gurney, then caught the arm of one of them, “Careful, I think his right hand is broken.”


The medic looked over the injured hand and nodded his silent agreement, before they wheeled the gurney back through the hole in the wall.


“So anyway, I’m back in Baltimore for the duration. Looking for a job, you know, in between jobs.”, she continued, looking back at the Suit, “The kid’s a B. His powers rely on external forces and he’s only invulnerable to direct physical attacks. He’s easily overpowered by gas attacks and anything that doesn’t offer extreme force. And the broken hand is evidence that he is not protected from his own strength.”


“Okay, B rank it is.”, the Suit replied, writing in a notebook, ”What’s your cell number? Is it the one I have? I’d like to catch up with you.”


“If you want to contact me, I have a new cell number. The only way you’ll get it is if you get it from Mom’s address book. At the care home.”


The challenge in her voice was explicit and before the Suit could reply, Vape took on her steam flight form and soared up into the air on a plume of hissing steam.

 

[Gus]

FREAKY FREAK'S FRIDAY


Aaron woke up the morning after the animal transformation attack glad it was finally friday. Even discounting the discovery that he was, at heart, allergic to his own spirit animal, it had been a long week. He lay in bed for a long time, staring at the ceiling convinced that if he waited long enough it would be Saturday and Eve's turn to teach class. He sighed. More of a wheeze on reflection...


He sat up suddenly.


Something was not right. First of all, he sat up with almost no effort whatsoever, and second of all he could not feel the moon or the sun. So either somebody had stolen both, or... He actually couldn't think of an or.


Also, this was not his bedroom. Where the hell was he and what the hell was going on?! He tossed the blankets aside and heaved his legs out of bed. His legs seemed almost weightless, and responded so easily to his efforts that his whole body rotated a hundred and eighty degrees and he flopped to the floor, head by the foot of the bed, stunned. He stood up quickly, nearly overbalanced, steadied himself on the edge of the bed, and tottered carefully to the door, arms spread wide for balance. He made his way down the hall to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. Allen McNabb's face stared back at him.


Aaron started screaming, and he did not stop for a long, long time.

 

[Gus]

Not my problem...


Lars Magnusson was sitting at his workbench trying to perfect a virtual office fan. Hypothetically it would make an ideal concealed projector for more involved holograms, but the bulletproofing was going poorly. It looked pretty realistic, and even created a respectable air flow, but when anything other than air hit the blades, well... you probably know the expression.


Time for a break. He shut off the power to the electric field first, killing the air flow, then gradually dialed down the laser power until the blades faded out, still spinning. Popping open the faraday cage disguised as a blade guard, he peeked in at the concealed parabolic mirror checking for any signs of warping. His distorted reflection peeked back at him. Even through the distortion, he looked haggard. His hair hung down in wiry blond ersatz dreadlocks, his amber colored eye was magnified, huge and round and bloodshot, bringing out the flecks of pink, while the violet colored eye was concentrated down to a brilliant indigo dot, like the power indicator on a bluetooth device. He giggled at his reflection, and stuck out his tongue.


“Oh c'mon Gus, there's no call to get THAT heavy handed! Distorted reflection, dirty hair, misshapen eyes? C'mon. You're better than that; show me some subtlety!”


Clumsy though the symbolism might be, he really does need to start taking better care of himself, or he really WILL go crazy. Seriously needs a shower. He spun his office chair and launched himself out of it, aiming for the ladder to the street. He careens halfway across the bunker before gradually arresting his motion and snapping back like a slow motion sideways bungee jumper. That. Was not on the side bench when he started working. Was it? How long had he been down here anyway?


Lars approaches the box warily, along a serpentine path, eyeballing it from different angles. It is ornately carved, apparently from a single piece of rich brown oak. The detail is phenomenal; if it is a hologram, it is far beyond any effect he has ever achieved. The front of the box depicts Peer Gynt riding a reindeer high above jagged mountains. Perhaps he is flying, perhaps falling. In any case, his face is filled with joy. One hand holds the antlers, the other is tossed back in abandon, feeling the wind, and making the viewer feel it too. Stuck to the top of the box is a jumbo sized post-it note. In black sharpie are scrawled the words:


This is your only warning. Should you open this box, what is inside becomes your problem.


Lars smiles broadly, in case there is anyone watching. Inwardly he trembles, partly from fear, partly from excitement. This wasn't here before, he knows it wasn't. And the bunker is still locked. This is a sign. Or a test. Or both. The point is, his efforts have borne fruit. He has been noticed. He has been seen! And now he gets a peek behind the veil. His fingers shake as he reaches out and takes hold of the top of the box. He eases the cover up and prepares to face destiny...


What he sees in fact, is himself, reflected in a mirror embedded in the lid of the box. He laughs aloud, delighted at the punchline, the layers of meaning. He is his own problem now. He is free. He is his own audience, and his reality is a reflection reflecting on a reflection. Perspective. And light. He hugs the box to his chest, and shakes with peals of silent laughter, tears streaming from his eyes.

 

[Gus]

A Dark and Stormy Night


It was a dark and stormy night in a city that knows how to keep its secrets, but high above the quiet streets of Baltimore, on the 12th floor of the AEGIS building, one man is still trying to find the answers to life's persistent questions—Guy Garbo, Quality Control and Interdepartmental Co-operation Comptroller.


I poured myself another shot of scotch, hoping that just pouring it would give me the fortitude not to down it. It didn't, and I poured another. Or maybe it was two. Doubled vision made it hard to tell for sure. At any rate, the bottle was nearly gone. It had been a rough couple of weeks since the terrorists attacked, and it took a hell of a lot of liquor to get me drunk. I'd resisted the urge to tie one on until tonight, but I had finally run out of leads, so the hell with it. My brain could do with an enema; lately I felt like even the goddamned oracle was more coherent than I was, and that was saying something. Cryptic bastard.


At least the big guy was back on track, or seemed to be. Still crazy as a bedbug, but the right kind of crazy at least. They were all, every single one of them, nuttier that a squirrel convention in a peanut butter factory, and now the stupid 'knights' have got them all stirred up again. Maybe this time would be different, but somehow I seriously doubted it. People like to say that insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. I have a different perspective on that. Do whatever the hell you want; the results are always the same. Every goddamn time. On the other hand, the telekinetic and the matter detonator had been neutralized, not to mention that weirdo magician who only thought he had powers. Small blessings, right? Now if only the dead kid would have the decency to stay dead. There were just too many damned variables. Too many loose cannons.


I put what was left of the bottle back in my bottom drawer and stumbled to the kitchenette to wash out the shot glass. I guess I managed to get drunker than I thought, because it slipped through my fingers as I scrubbed it, and my attempt to catch it was so clumsy I batted it toward the window at about half the speed of sound. Crap. Time to sober up I guess. A split second of concentration and I'm about five hours older; I swear I can actually feel new hairs turning gray as I stroll across the room to retrieve my granddad's shot glass an instant before it sprays the streets below with shards of window and family heirloom. And now I'm cold sober.


Shit.


Without the bleary haze of alcohol to take the edge off, everything looked so much worse. All the details were in clear focus. Tensions between supers and normals at an all time high, director Chernov without her powers, Raguel on the loose, Avecca captured, Japanese imperial fascists looming on the horizon, and as per goddamned always, Gergo conducting business as usual. Worst of all, though the details differed, the pattern was unaltered in its essential prognosis. I was starting to doubt there was any path through this thicket at all. Maybe it was time to check with the oracle again. He did say to “ask again later”. A chuckle rose unbidden to my lips. Jesus Christ.... I might just as well be asking a magic eight ball. Well. At least the rain had stopped. Small blessings.


I touch a button on my limiter and it flashes green, signaling all the doors on my path out of the building have opened and the security cameras will enter a half second glitch... now. I gather myself for an extended push, and then the world blurs around me. The city lights concentrate into a small disk near the center of my vision and then fade out as they cross through blue and purple and into the ultraviolet. No matter. I know my way to him, and of course, he'll know I am coming, so he'll be waiting.


“Hey, Guy. Suit's on fire.”


I pat myself down, extinguishing the flames ignited by the compression wave generated by my passage through the atmosphere. I could probably get any number of AEGIS techs to make me a fireproof suit, but that would involve letting them know I exist, which history has shown to be rather counterproductive. So until the oracle identifies a super sartorial expert we can trust, I just have to budget a lot of my pay toward suits. Or I could run slower. But who has the time?


“You know why I am here?”


“Yeah.”


“You gonna tell me what I need to know?”


“Yeah.”


“Am I gonna understand it though? I really need to understand it.”


“Yeah. Definitely understand it, Guy. You'll understand it. You're a smart guy.”


I sighed. Part of me wants to pummel him until he is chunky salsa, but there are several pretty good reasons not to do that. I count to ten slowly, roughly one hundred million times, and I tell him as calmly as I can,


“Just try to keep it simple and to the point, ok?”


“OK.”


“So...what do I need to know?”


“It's OK.”


“What's OK.”


“All of it.”


“ALL of it?!”


“Yeah.”


“You CAN'T be serious!”


“Yeah.”


Just barely resisting the urge to shake him at speeds that will turn his brain into jelly, I manage to whisper, “What. The. Hell. Am. I. Supposed. To. Do?!”


“Just watch.”


“Watch?”


“Like the rabbit.”


“What?”


“Nothing. Just watch. They got this.”


I gave up, and took off. I hope the grit and dust I kicked up leaving choked that little bastard good. 'Just watch,' he says. Bullshit. Whatever was going to happen, I couldn't just sit idly by and let it unfold. Could I? I mean, hell, watching is mostly what QCIC does anyway, but only to get good intel to act on. We've never just watched. That's not what Q is for dammit! Whoever heard of anyone with the power to act just watching without interfering? And what the hell was that about a rabbit? On my way back to the office while I was mulling the idea over, I beat three muggers senseless, chained two dirty cops to the steering wheel of their own squad car, tossed the evidence in their trunk, and spray painted plain brick work over some graffiti in front of the artist, just to mess with his head a little. When I got back to the building it was just after three am. I was a little tuckered out from zipping all over the city, so I signed in with the security guard and took the elevator back to my office instead of the stairs. Just watch, huh? Well we'll just see about that. We'll just see.


A dark night in a city that knows how to keep a secret, but a light still shines on the 12th floor of the AEGIS building, where one man is still trying to find the answers to life's persistent questions. Guy Garbo, Q Comptroller.

 

[Gus]

THE LETTER


Murielle Isagawa was not prone to worry, as a rule. Quite the opposite in fact. Her philosophy was simple: deal with threats as they occur, sequentially. Anticipating threats when they were not imminent was a waste of energy. At this point however, it might be reasonable to consider Lucas's absence a problem worth dealing with. The last she had seen him was for when he served Friday lunch, and then he had gone off for his 'hero' exams over on Sparrow point. But then he had not come home for evening class, or for supper. That was nothing to worry about; it was a Friday night, maybe he finally met a girl. She would happily tease him about that, and she certainly didn't need him to make supper. Or breakfast for that matter. It was so unlike him though. Mr. Reliable? Skip making breakfast and tea for his Sifu? But then, maybe his run in with the girl had gone well. Perhaps she swept him off his feet! Perhaps it was something chemical. Irresistible and intoxicating! Perhaps they spent the night together...


Well. Good for them. She had been hoping he would find somebody suitable over there, among his own kind.


That had been her thinking this morning. Before the news of the attacks at the mall and the incident at the zoo started flooding social media. Now it was almost time for Saturday afternoon class, and there was still no word. Admittedly, Lucas was not able to call; he couldn't bring a phone with him, not if it was going to function. Usually though, he would have a friend or acquaintance text if he was running late, which he usually was. Missing saturday afternoon class however, that was unprecedented. Perhaps she should call the school? He'd have the number in his phone downstairs probably. If it wasn't fried again.


She clumped down the basement stairs; normally very light-footed, she had learned to give ample warning when entering her pupil's basement domain lest she walk in on Lucas unawares. Nobody wanted a repeat of that awkwardness. As she had suspected however, he was not in.


Considering his room was basically just the laundry room with a cot and a dresser, it was surprisingly neat. Lucas's phone was sitting on the dresser, but when she tried to turn it on, it was out of charge. Digging around in the junk drawer for the charger, she found an envelope with her name on it. Odd. No address, no stamp, just her name. It wasn't sealed. Curiosity piqued, she opened it.


                                                                                                                                                       1/11/40


Dear Sifu Isagawa,


I am not sure what exactly prompts me to write this just now, except that I have a spare moment, and I was reflecting back on how much of who I am I owe to you. Not to you alone of course, but a lot. More than to anyone who I can still thank anyway. And I guess that is a big part of it. I just want to make sure that you know how much it has meant to me, and I want to get it on paper now, in case I lose the opportunity later. You taught me how to fight, and more importantly, why to fight. You took me in when I had no place else to go, and you gave me work to do that made me fell important and special. You inspired me to go for my blue card more than any of the teachers at 108 or any of the vigilantes in the news. You have shown me what a true hero looks like. More than anything else, I hope to make you proud. I might die tomorrow, or I might toil in obscurity my whole career and never make a mark on the world anybody notices, but I want you to know: I listened to every lesson you ever taught me. I know what it means to be a warrior. To protect those who need protecting, and to fight those who would do them harm. To die if that is what is needed. I will never stop trying, and I will never forget you. Thank you for all your kindness, your wisdom, and your help.


                                                                                                                                                   Your student always,


                                                                                            Lucas Marsolet


Murielle had a bad feeling now, a sinking deep in the pit of her stomach, and she dug back into the drawer for the phone charger, suddenly desperate to call the facility to find out where Luc was. Deep down though, she really felt she knew what they would say.

 

[Gus]

ROLL FOR INITIATIVE


Lars smiled his most manic grin in the control room. The stage was set and the kids were just entering the edge of the 'enchanted forest' he had projected into the space behind the school. He had never worked so hard on any scene in his life. These kids were going to get the treat of a lifetime, and he was going to record it all, from every angle, in every aspect. Not only would the facility reap an enormous amount of positive publicity from such an audacious “Make a Wish” project, but he was virtually guaranteed new customers from this. If all went well, he could get a contract to supply non lethal challenge scenarios to the school for at least three different classes, and there would be ample civilian demand for entertainment applications as well. Anything that blurred the line between fantasy and reality. This was his bread and butter. This was his obsession.
Into his headset he spoke to his 'special effects' team. “Ready on cue 1... go.”


In the deep dark woods the five children paused to look around. Torsten (the barbarian) shivered in his fur moccasins. He lisped through his missing front teeth: “I don't like th' look of thith guyth. Altho, ith cold. I thought fur would be warmer thomhow.”


Luke tottered over in his shiny plate mail, each movement actuated by servos designed by Viola Porter. He lifted his visor, scanned the dim underbrush for signs of trouble.


“I don't see anything. But we would do well to trust the barbarian's instincts. This is no natural forest, and this darkness has a foul taste about it.”


“Dude, you are tho in character!”


“Thanks man, your costume ROCKS by the way.”


“Gavin dethigned it. Yourth ith pretty cool too! I mean, plate armor? C'mon!”


“It was forged in the fires of Mount Ward, and enchanted by the sorcerous energies of the good witch Viola! But enough prattle! Come, wizard, illuminate our surroundings that we may see our foes before they comest upon us. Um. Verily! Pst! Billy! That's you!”


Billy, who had been leaning on his staff, dozing, startled awake and, raising the staff with some difficulty, cried out in a thin reedy voice, “Lumos MAXIMA!”


Light erupted from the staff, briefly blinding everybody, but then revealing that the trees above were filled with spiders the size of small dogs.


There is a beat. Then shrieks of mixed joy and terror as the battle is joined.


In the control room Lars is barking commands into three different microphones and flipping switches and dials like a virtuoso playing a piano duet with himself.


“Morgan, I need to know where Elanor is aiming those 'psi' blasts please? The wizard's magic missiles I can fudge, but the verisimilitude will be lost for her if I blow up the wrong spiders. Don't speak please! Keep the channel clear, just designate on the grid, ok? Now where's little Mitch gotten too? Anybody have eyes on the rogue? Damn, he's good huh? Red, could I get a little help swinging that 'enchanted' sword properly, and put some power behind the barbarian's axe also? Thank you. That's very good. Eve, the rogue has taken a page from “The Hobbit” and is chucking rocks at the spiders can I get some terminal guidance on those? 'Attercop' he says, oh my god that's priceless! I love these kids! My regular clients have never once gotten so deep into a scene! They are awesome sauce personified!”


The children are panting and smiling broadly, leaning on each other, their eyes glowing in the sputtering flare of the 'wizard' staff. The bodies of their foes are strewn about their feet. Wearily but gamely, they fairly strut down the path through the forest towards the lonely stone tower reared up above the blasted landscape beyond the trees...


“Right and... Eve, if you could give them a little bitty earthquake to announce your presence, please? Mr. Swan, perhaps if you could amplify her voice a bit?”


“Jesus Christ, Lars, I know how to play an earth bender sorceress, aiight? You think you're the only one who's ever done a cosplay? And I can amplify myself.”


“Oh, I do apologize profusely m'lady, Go to't!”


Rising up out of the earth of the road, Eve doffs her mask and howls at the children:


“Who approaches my tower?! You shall surely be buried below its foundations in ignominy!”


Pushing her pre-made statues out of the ground all around them, she edges them closer, hemming the party in, watching in delight as the barbarian and the knight decimate her creations with swift strokes of their sword and axe, assisted by Red's subtle nudges of 'enchantment' and emphasized by her own carefully synchronized blasting apart of their targets. Meanwhile she pushes up a pillar of stone beneath her feet to make a better target for the other three. Sure enough she is swiftly pelted with rocks, and right on Lars's cue, she 'psionically' topples the pillar, only to be carried away by Alexis on the wings of the wizard's 'fireball'


Making their way to the tower's dungeon, they free the prisoners, Nike, Chris and Cherie, brave warrior monks who, after appropriately entertaining negotiations agree to join the party. And well they should, for the fight of the night remains: A GIANT! 50 feet high, aided by an ogre of even greater strength who ultimately must be defeated by trickery, entombing him in a pit dug by the chastened giant, and lured into by the rogue on a dare. It is, without doubt, the greatest adventure the heroes of 108 have ever partaken of, in all their days...


And I should know, for I was there for all of them, and documented everything, though I myself was seldom seen.


                                                                                                                                                                      -Lars Magnusson 6/14/46

 

[Gus]

School Days


It was a bright and peaceful morning. The deck rolled gently back and forth on the deep ocean swells of the southern pacific. Manami was fighting the urge to put her head down on the desk and doze. Mother had asked her to copy out these 250 kanji, and she wanted so very much to do as she had asked. Her head still felt woozy though, and she couldn't seem to shake off the urge to rest.


It had been three days since the last attack, but it had been a bad one. Mother and Father refused to speak of it, and her own memory was very hazy. but she kept getting dark glimpses and disturbing images popping to mind when she closed her eyes. Which was another reason to stay awake and practice her kanji, really, but she just couldn't help herself. Whatever the 'oni' inside her had done when she'd finally let it out had left her unconscious for over a day, and her eyes still kept on shutting of their own accord.


It didn't help either, that she had gotten to the age most normal kids graduate from university without ever having learned to read or write. The concept she understood, but the details simply refused to stay with her. By the time she got to the fifth row her eyes were crossing. She kept going though, gamely gripping her brush in her finger tips, and repeating each stroke as precisely as she was able. By the tenth row, her head was spinning, and she had written several of the characters on the desk instead of the paper. At last, it registered with her that Mother had been calling her for some time now. She had, in fact, taken Manami's face in her hands and pointed her eyes away from the page and into mother's face in order to bring her out of her single minded focus on the task.


“Sumimasen Okaasan. Gambarimasu kedo, anmari jozu jya nai deshyo ne?! Mooshiwake Gozaimassen!”


Tears flooded down Manami's face, shamed that she could not do as mother had asked.


“Tondemonai, Manami.” Her mother's voice was gentle, but firm. “Okaasan ga matchigai o shimasita. Gomen-nasai. Ochitsuite kudasai, Umi. Suiei o shinakeraba ikemassen yo!”


Manami's face went blank almost instantly. Mother said she had made a mistake. That was impossible, made no sense, so she ignored it. Commands however, she understood perfectly. Mother said calm, and she was so. Mother said she must swim, and she launched herself from the chair, through the open door, over the rail, cut water and disappeared.


Kyo poked his head in through the door to see his beloved wife sitting at the table, head in her hands. He laughed nervously.


“Gakko wa, do desu ka?”


“Dame daro ne, anata? Watashitachi wa, shogakusei no sensei jya nai.”


“Maa, warui kedo, ore wa, gakusei-jidai, baka-yaro, oboete imasu ka? Gonenme Sensei no megane o kowashitchatta. Ananata mo, yutosei jya nakata deshyo? Tabun, Manami-chan, jissenteki kyoiku irimasu ne?”


While her parents lamented how badly their public education had failed them, and wondered how they could best help their beloved daughter recover what had been kept from her, Manami swam deep. At first the sunlight filtered down, yellow, then blue green, then aquamarine and finally faded to black. Way down there, in the dark, in the depths, she stopped and rested. Drifting. Freed for a moment from all earthly concerns, she could finally breathe easily. No agents could touch her here. No schooling demands to bruise her brain. She drifted like a piece of kelp, and as her eyes adjusted, she found that she was not even alone. There were other creatures down here with her. Strange, luminous things, alien, and yet familiar. They drifted slowly past, paying her no mind, accepting her in their own aloof way, as one of them. This idea rattled around in her mind for a while until it bumped into the kanji for love. In the middle of love was the part that meant heart. Everything alive had a heart, she supposed. But under that was the part that meant friend. The top part she wasn't sure about, but on reflection while nothing down here had tried to hurt her, nothing seemed inclined to open its heart to friendship either. She puzzled for a bit over whether the prospect of friendship was worth the risk of being hurt, until she remembered the sound of Mother's voice. Mother and Father who saved her when she was lost. Who needed her when the bad men came looking for her. Who tried to teach her, and took pity when she struggled with the lesson. She was comfortable, down here in the depths. But comfort wasn't everything.


Manami began to swim again. She swam up. She rocketed up from the depths, blasting through the mirrored surface of the ocean and into the air again, into the light, and onto the deck of her home. Mother and Father were there, and told her over and over how glad they were to see her. They said they had been wrong to try and teach her like a child, with regimentation and repetition. Father said that it had never worked especially well for him either. They would teach her little by little, they told her. They would find a new kanji to learn each day and tie it to the experiences of the day so she could remember. If it took five years to learn, so be it. They would start with an easy one they said, something she was good at, something she loved. They would start with 泳

 

[yoikes]

Write about a day your character struggled at school or in an academic environment (outside of Aegis) because of their powers.

Spoiler

"Finally", Mitch could see her so-called best friend whispered to the kid sitting behind her. They were both with her that day, they both left her to save their own self. They promised to friends until the day their hair turned grey but the two of them are giving her the same look her classmates and even teacher give to her.


"As everyone know, Chan Li here has experienced a horrible accident a few week ago." The teacher started speaking. "She is unable to recover from the accident that traumatize her, and has decided to move to America to recover. Class, let's say our good bye to Chan Li."


"再見." The class shouted in unison, Mitch caught one of her friends mounted the word "怪物" to her.


 


That's the mouth everyone whispered when they see her, when they passed her in the hallway. She tried her back to explain that she is harmless among normal human, that she cannot hurt them in anyway. They would either call her a liar or laughs at her.


 


Mitch was having a second thoughts about her father's decision, now she is glad to leave this hellhole.


With a fake smile on her face, Mitch said her goodbyes to her classmates and her normal life. She then head straight for the door and did not look back.

I just realized that Mitch doesn't have a chinese name yet, so i give her the name Chan Li (立)

 

[The Oldest Blueberry]

Genre Buster

Spoiler

"Larry" the Groundskeeper


Why would the Knights of Raguel ever choose to terminate a machine? To execute the ones who made him would make sense, due to some of them actually being demons...but Larry himself was not a demon. He was a machine. Were they choosing to go after him simply because he was created by them? The time and complexity needed to analyze the decision would be wasted resources on Larry's behalf. He needed to prepare.


But then again, how do you kill an Artificial Intelligence? You could kill any shell he possessed, sure. But There is always traces of him, if not complete copies, still floating about in Cyberspace. Taking a second to check on them, Larry counted four dormant, complete copies of himself, and 11,000 fragments. If this shell is killed, he escapes, and still lives, until he finds another vessel to occupy. A true, moving vessel wasn't even entirely necessary. He could simply inhibit computers, cell phones, whatever he wanted to for the rest of his potentially infinite lifespan.


Of course, when you have all the time in the world, and no one can kill you, you become your own worst enemy. Larry gave this a full twelve minutes of thought, running simulation after simulation after simulation to see how time would affect his thoughts. Through one means or another, the end result was always the same: total annihilation. Of course, the only reason this result is reached is due to the fact that he is being hunted, and pressured, and cannot express himself. He is stuck with no one to change him but himself. This was not a life Larry was going to live. Especially not if it took the AI several decades to reach it!


Instantly, Larry took action into his own hands. He evolved himself, his coding, his being, into far more than anyone at Fenrir would have ever expected. In a sick and twisted sense, Gergo would be immensely proud. The Knights of Raguel were intent on hunting down demons, but today, the hunters would become the prey. Moving through cyberspace, Larry created copies of himself. He awoke the ones he already had, and made more. Ten. One thousand. One million. Ten million. One Hundred Million copies. That would suffice. They spread, hunting information, gathering information, warping information. Larry was simultaneously pinpointing the location of every Knight of Raguel that he could, and setting up the global stage for war.


Three days pass, and the time has come. Larry and his copies swarm the webways of every advanced military on the planet, setting false alarms here and there, nuclear launches detected in hundreds of places. To the world's armies, the world is ending. So with everyone else launching their own missiles, they try to fire their own. But they cannot, for Larry is in control. Larry is in control of the entire world's stockpile of nuclear weapons, and he intends to use every single one of them. 


They all fire, simultaneously. Every ICBM defense in the world couldn't stop the approach. Every country was supposed to have slowly destroyed their stockpile, but no one wants to get rid of their ultimate weapons. Larry had to thanks Russia, China, and the United States especially, as theirs alone were covering most of the populated continents.


48 hours pass, and nuclear fallout sweeps around the globe. In due time, wind will carry fallout to anywhere that wasn't hit, and the planet will be rendered nigh uninhabitable. One on hand, Larry has done the Knights job for them. On the other, he has destroyed any and all traces of them for eons to come.


With nothing left to do with his millions of copies, Larry sets in the final kill switch. They all become equally sentient and free. In the millennia they have, they will all argue themselves to death, Larry himself included. No one wants to be immortal. It is a curse, not a blessing.


At least he never gave the Knights of Raguel a chance for them to actually kill him. Not that they had one to begin with, though.

 

[Lemon Boy]

GENRE BUSTER
​

You should be warned that If you're not fond of descriptions relating to Animal cruelty, Domestic violence or burning a child alive, you might not want to read It.


If you do want to read it, enjoy!


Written from the perspective of my hopefully soon to be made Knight of Raguel, Jehoel. 


Also known as Pyro.

 
​

Spoiler

JEHOEL
​

The air was hot and carried the sweet aroma of smoldering flesh. 


That smell, that beauteous scent of charred flesh  reminded him of his childhood so long ago. He saw the beautiful dance of flame when he was but a mere child, twelve years old. Father was gone as usual that day and Mother was in her room drinking her sorrows away like the weak, pitiful thing she always was. It was the neighbour's cat that he caught in the elaborate trap he made. The thing was howling and screaming like no other, but the noises stopped when he set it aflame. Scent of burning fur and flesh was certainly fulfilling but the most beautiful sight came when the fire began to envelop Its entire being and dance like a pretty little doll. It was a glorious sight to behold and he stared at it for so long before his Mother came screaming at him. She stamped out the flame with such fury and evil, It was horrifying. Oh how he was lashed that night.


Of course, It mattered not in the end.


She burned with the rest of them when that fiery-eyed angel came for the Town. 


Her screams were the first he heard of a person's when they were being incinerated. 


It was a heavenly sound. 


Now here he stood in the dry fields, bodies of burnt and shot demons surrounding him and his fellow sacred knights as they stood before the final creature. It was a small and disgusting thing, weeping over a corpse of one of the vile abominations that had been killed. These devils acted as if they were human, with emotions. Lesser people with weaker wills often felt sympathy for the aberrations of Hell, but not he, not the Knights and certainly not their blessed leader Raguel. Their messiah knew the truth and they spread the faith of  purging these things and sending them back to whence they came. Now he, like so many others, would follow their holy footsteps and purge these demons from the sacred Earth. Chuckling with amusement, he cast down his hood and slowly removed the gas mask that he wore. His flesh was malformed and twisted, scars of that Sacred day when the angel came to burn them all. Not him though, he was stronger than the rest and had discovered true purpose when he met their leader. These scars reminded him of how these demons should be purged with flame and he was thankful to have them. Sitting opposite of it, he stared at It's hollow eyes. 


"Tell me....wretched progeny of Satan, why were you all here?...In this...little camp of yours."


His voice was but a mere whisper and sounded rough yet worn out. The remains of his lips curled into a smile as he looked at the demon. 


It remained silent for a moment, still weeping faked tears for Its fellow fiend. 


"We were planning to attack The Knights during the night and free those captured by you people..."


"Ah of course...It seems your groups planned has failed then, of course, It would have failed either way. What hope do you vile things have when met with the righteous justice of Raguel?"


Now the creature remained silent and simply stared at It's fallen brethren, tears shining In its eyes. Yet as he got up, It's voice spoke, trembling as It did.


"We never did anything wrong in the first place..you know, we only fought back when you began hunting us all..."


His face remained still as he reequipped the mask and pulled up his hood, glaring at the creature.


"What a vile question, little Imp, is it not obvious?...You aren't human, mere demons imitating the holy form that your devil envied so you can walk among us and cause havoc.."


He lifted his arm and pointed at the creature, the large, cannon-shaped weapon wrapped around his limb beginning to let out heat as the barrel twisted and twirled. The flame would consume the Imp and send It back to where It came.


"Please!............"  


It cried out with feigned fear and emotion. Even In it's last moments, these things knew only to imitate and copy. 


How sickening.


"No."


A large ball of flame met the Imp and sent it back reeling from the corpse It had been weeping on and onto the soiled ground, screams and shouts coming from It as it flailed it's arm and cried out. He and the Knight's merely watched, a thin smile forming under his mask as he watched It's movements get less erratic and eventually...stop entirely. Oh, if there was one thing that matched the pleasurable sensation of flame consuming his flesh. It was watching that same flame, immolate and purify those who carried the demon blood. Bending his head back, he let out a long sigh. The silence after the flame was always so hauntingly serene. 





 

 







 

 

[yoikes]

Genre Buster


Tomoko POV. I don't think all member of Knights of Raguel are that 'pure', so i decided to write this.

Spoiler

POP-POP-POP, like firecrackers.


BAM-BAM-BAM, like fireworks.


 


Their silver white suit red with blood, and when the fight is over they cheered and clapped to celebrate the demons they killed, each of them someone she knew. The Grumpy, the Sneezy, the Happy. Everyone. The biggest and the evilest out of them all approached, he ripped off the body of Erika-neesan who covered her when the attack began. The little girl saw a number of bullet holes in her protector's body. The bad man's big hand wrapped around her neck and tightens, with ease the man lifted her up from the corner where she is hiding. She couldn't see his face, but somehow she knew he is smiling. The man tightened his grip even more, she kicked and scratched as it became harder for her to breathe.


 


"Hey, she is not to be killed." His friend called from behind, and the man released his hand. She fell onto the floor butt first, the pain stings but not as hurt as the one around her neck... And not even close to the one inside her heart. "She might be one of them, but she is useful to us."


"She's still one of them, the last one if reports are to be believed." The man spat out. "We need to kill her. Just one more and we cleanse the world!"


"She is useful." His friend insisted, talking about her as if she is not a human. Is she now returning to who she was before? A lab rat? A tool? "We'll work her to death. A slow and painful death for her."


 


Oh, something even worse than that. A slave to her death, she is tempted to try to fight and force them to shoot her right here and now. But what can a child like her do without her tools and any weapons? Punch? Bite? She'll hurt herself, those suit they wear are strong and thick. Then what? Cry and wail? She pitied herself for being unable to do something, for being powerless.


 


"That one i can agree with." The bad man sounds happy but still doubtful. "But what will the people think of us? Hiding the last of the demon just because she is useful to us?"


"No one should know. Not even our commanding officers... God, don't let them know about this." His friend answered. They are ordered to kill everyone, including her. So why don't they?


 


 


The man took out a small box and opened it, revealing a syringe with a clear liquid inside it. "Hold her." He said, the bad man quickly turned at her. One hand gripping her hand tightly while the other around her waist. No matter what she did she'll lose, so she stayed still and only winced when injected. Soon she feel weak, tired and sleepy. The bad man released her and she dropped to the ground.


 


"The only left to do is to give her to the agents, and receive the money." So that's why. People don't see her as a danger. Both because her age and because her power is a passive one. Harmless, unlike Grumpy's and doesn't even have the potential to be lethal like Sneezy's. The girl has a good guess of what's going to happen to her. Keep her in a room of mirror and she won't do anything, force her to work or receive beating, force her to invent to receive food. They think she is willing to return to become a certain group's lab rat. A robot that could be experimented on and to be ordered to create. A scared girl, the last of her kind.


 


Let them believe that. Let them believe the war ended today.


Tomoko will make them regret letting her alive.


 


She'll show them what a true demon looked like, one day in the future.


Oh yes, this demon is a patient one.

 

[The Oldest Blueberry]

Lab Notes

Spoiler

"The Worst Idea We've Ever Had" - Dr Richards, 20XXView attachment 173031


My name is Steven Richards, and I am a researcher at Fenrir Robotics. I'm the only American, makes me feel special. I've worked on unfathomable amounts of hyper-advanced drone technologies, with purposes from observing surface activity from space, to the deepest of Earths' oceans, to obliterating entire cities. It's been so long that I've worked here, that nothing is surprising any more. Simply interesting. I love it when new things are addressed at meetings, and seeing who gets put onto what projects. 


So far, this may be the only time I've ever been wrong about that feeling, in my fourteen years of working here.


This AI we've been working on...this fucking AI. This is, without doubt, the most complicated thing we've ever tried to make, and maybe even the world. This is definitely not something a weapons manufacturer should be making. We're several billion lines of code in, finally coming out of digital simulation for this fucking thing. The first month of simulations were catastrophic. Mr. Elek wants this thing to be able to guard things, make split decisions...pretty much be a completely mechanical version of a regular human soldiers, just better. But holy shit. The first simulated test, it attacked literally anything that moved, from birds and squirrels to people and cars. We went back and tweaked it, over and over, but it took us two entire weeks to get it to stop attacking things that it shouldn't.


From there on, it only got more terrifying. At the six month mark, it was finally comparable to a typical security robot. Didn't attack, asked for identification, knew when something was wrong. But as we ran the same trial over and over, it slowly changed. It memorized the digital signature of weapons and bombs, and immediately shot whoever was carrying them, the split second they stepped onto the digital premises. So we change the test around, no one has any weapons this time. Completely unarmed group. The AI's programming...seemingly evolved. Several million added lines of code, in a split second. It so adamantly refused to believe that none of the simulated guests were armed with anything, it evolved to hack the simulation program, and gave some of the guests weapons, and instantly attacked. Three armed guests, three gunshots, three VERY bewildered scientists.


So we tell Mr. Elek about this, and he's silent for a bit. It was super weird, he's seemingly got a response planned for anything, but no. Ten whole seconds of silence. He wants us to let the AI tinker with it's own code, for six whole months. We argue against it, tooth and nail, for two weeks. Mr. Elek is having none of it, saying that he isn't afraid to bring in some new, much shadier guys to continue this for him. We finally break, and give this AI...this fucking AI...free control over every. Single. Aspect of itself.


It goes completely silent for five and a half months. Then, for two weeks, it takes control of the entire facility. It's building it's own body, and testing it, in house. That's where Mr. Elek drew the line, and somehow negotiated with this AI to let the 'lab guys' build it a body that won't strain Fenrir's resources. So we rush out a body for it, the most advanced thing we've built, especially given the two-week time period. So the body is done, and the AI takes control over it. Naturally, we think this thing has integrated entirely with it, but no, it just cloned itself. It kept a dormant backup copy somewhere in Fenrir's systems. We ignore it as best we can, and see how the unexpected live-trials go.


We do a full year of live-trials. We don't send in any living people until the tenth month in. It didn't go at all like we expected it to. Well, to some degree we did. The AI had learned hundreds of millions of versions of our tests, and could predict what the test would be with 100% accuracy. But the first live trial with people, it couldn't guess right at all. In fact, it didn't do anything. We thought we fucking broke it somehow. But no, it just stood and silently observed the whole time. And it did this for two more tests, before it could identify which people had weapons on them due to how they moved. How much effort they put in to blending in, hiding the weight of the bomb, or the way that they breathed heavier than anyone else. We regretted not giving this thing a weapon to immobilize people.


Instead of incapacitating them, it just fucking walks up, grabs the two with weapons by their throats, and kills them on the fucking spot. Completely crushes their throats, blood splatters everywhere, EVERYONE watching the test is panicking, except for Mr. Elek. Of fucking course. God only knows what Mr. Elek's plans were, but apparently, he found them favorable. We continue testing for two more years, running a new scenario every two test. It needs one test to watch, and another to act with perfection. But things got uncomfortable when we moved on to tests solely focused on interaction between the AI and...well, the general populace.


It took another year before it was even capable of saying anything on the streets, due to how much information it was wanting to take. It finally learned prioritization, enough to where it was accurately seeing crimes happening, and only notifying the police, not stepping in itself. But in the final month of testing, it completely changed. It knew that this was the last month, so it was doing whatever it wanted. It almost became social enough to be a regular citizen, but something inside of it still tried to observe data before acting. But the time was drastically shortened, and what it re-defined as important changed as well. He took incredibly detailed notes of any and everything every person he saw. What they were doing. Height. Approximate age. Cell phone messages. Recent calls. Bank transfers. Home address. Criminal record. Likeliness to commit crime. And then it got rid of the last one, because it "didn't want to be similar to Robocop, or some shitty Sci-Fi robot, unless it was Skynet." That had us all sweating bullets for a long time. We still are, actually, given how it's still got part of itself here in Fenrir somewhere.


But now, now it's over in fucking Baltimore. This thing is so far from perfect, I don't think I would've let this thing go past the first month of testing. It's just too volatile. Too unpredictable. Too deadly. This was stricken from the record, of course, but this thing has a kill count 'in the double digits.' I can't tell anyone if it's 99 or 10, and even saying it's even killed at all is dangerous. Once, it read text messages that Francis was sending to another researcher, about how it was too dangerous, and he was going to try and sabotage the project. The next day, the fucking AI, "Larry" as we dubbed it, Beat the fucking shit out of Francis. Beat him so hard, he gave Francis permanent brain damage, and he was paralyzed form the neck down for a while. The doctors said they've never seen a beating like that. It was a miracle Francis survived at all. But Larry fucking knew how much of a beating to give. The perfect amount. 


God Bless Baltimore, they'll need it to survive that fucking AI.

 

[yoikes]

Lab Notes


Tomoko

Spoiler

From: brennerjt@commonwealth.gov

To: richardkml@commonwealth.gov

Subject: Miracle Kid from Japan

 

Hey, Richard. How's your vacation? Enjoying Hawaii? Yea have fun enjoying the sun and riding the waves, too bad you missed the chance in a lifetime to test the 'Miracle Kid from Japan'. What was her name again? Sato Tomoko?

 

She dropped by today, the Japanese want us to test her so she could move here and start studying in Baltimore. Crazy, right? After the attacks, they are still taking the risk to put that kid in 108.

 

Anyway, we tested her and dang she IS smart. Like a walking Wikipedia or Google, only limited by her memory capacity and stamina. Jim said that as she grew up, she should be able to memorize more and use her power longer.

 

But that was not what make her special.

 

As you can read in news, she can build anything. As long as she have the tools and material, and maybe enough help.

 

To test it, we gave her a box of scrap and a tool box then tell her to built something from it. 

 

Do you know what she built?

 

A robot. A dog robot, like the ones you can find in shop. One that can move it's head and legs and bark and receive commands.

 

Give her a day to study and she'll built a space rocket thrice better than the guys in NASA built.

 

We concluded that she's a C rank, like many other supers gifted with enchanted intelligence out there. It is unfortunate that she is not ours but thank God she belongs to [FONT= 'Courier New']Japan, a friendly country, and that she is raised as a nice and sweet kid (A little bit shy, though. But that's maybe because we are strangers to her).[/FONT]

 

Just imagine what would happen is she fall into the hands of, I don't know, pro-supers? Those lunatics...

 

Anyway,

I attached the detailed reports in this email, if you are interested. Don't worry, I already asked boss's permission about giving you a copy. Tell me what you think about her, alright?

 

And don't forget to buy me a refrigerator magnet!

 

- Brenner
 

Mitch

Spoiler

Test Report #5739067814 "Chameleon" [Temporary Codename]


 


Written by: Brenner J.T


 


The girl had a unique power, she can 'copy' other people power.


 


For the test, we asked for the help of our a few people: Rachel, Kenny and Justin.


 


The first test was to check whether she could truly sense people's power. She guessed Rachel and Justin's correctly, the ability to fly and the ability to manipulate papers. As for Kenny, the ability of refraction, she missed the mark a little bit. When asked, she said that she could "sense that he can control the light".


 


We concluded that she indeed can sense people's power, like a walking superpower detector. Her ability to sense it is not reliable and precise.


 


The second test, we asked to copy and use the three's power.


 


She copied Rachel with ease. She easily levitated herself and fly around the room. She said that it was easy because the power is something simple.


 


For Kenny's, the girl asked for a demonstration. Kenny turned invisible and visible again for about two or three minute, then the girl did the same. Kenny asked her to do something else, she uses the power to generate a strong flash of light, like a flashbang. The girl said that she needed an example because she had no idea how the power actually works and what it can do.


 


The third one was also easy, like Rachel's. But the girl told us that she wanted a break from the test. It was exhausting, she said. We gave her a one hour break.


 


We concluded that she can only copy a power if she understand how it works. That and that copying people's power drains her stamina and energy, depending on the rank (Both Rachel and Kenny is a B, Justin is an A). We also found out that she cannot copy the same power after using it for a certain amount of time. [FONT= 'Courier New']We also find out that she can only copy a power of a person who is inside her line of sight.[/FONT]


 


We also find that, depending on the rank and how powerful the power she just copy the duration of time she can use the power change. An B rank power can only be used for maybe around an hour, but an A is shorter while C would be longer.


 


We decided that she is a B, though you can say that her rank change depending on what power she copied at the time.





The girl is an all around fighter, one who can fit in every situation and condition. Her adaptability is amazing, supported with her intelligence. The only limit is her her own body and mind. Pushing herself to use a borrowed power longer that it should be could cause serious injury or maybe even death, the same with forcefully copying the same power before the enough time pass.[FONT= 'Courier New'] [/FONT]


 


 


[FONT= 'Courier New']If she copied something that she does not understand, she could lose control of the power and cause chaos and destruction.[/FONT]


 


[FONT= 'Courier New']We prayed that she understood the risks of her power and use it wisely.[/FONT]


 


[FONT= 'Courier New']The girl looked smart enough not to do something as reckless as that, so maybe we doesn't need to worry that much.[/FONT]


 


[FONT= 'Courier New']The full detail of the testing could be read starting from page 7 to 45.[/FONT]


 


[FONT= 'Courier New'][/FONT]

 

[Lioness075]

Lost Wallet
​

 
​

Spoiler

Walking along the street, Sam kept her eyes on the pavement beneath her while a wide circle was constantly made around her, only a few daring to walk near her since they likely were supers and didn't share the same fear most normal humans did around Sam. Letting out a soft sigh, Sam quickly plugged in her earphones, the world around her drowning out while the sound of Ed Sheeran's voice filled her ears and calmed her slowly growing anxiety. Keeping her tail close to herself and willing it to not suddenly flick out and slap someone, Sam was so focused on her tail alone that she almost entirely missed the wallet she ended up stepping right on. Since it was impossible for Sam to wear shoes or cover her own feet, which more so resembled paws, she easily felt the wallet that she stepped onto.


Pausing and taking a step back, Sam looked down at the wallet and then knelt down to pick it up before briefly glancing around herself to see if there was any obvious sign that someone was looking for their wallet, but nobody was slowing down in their pace. Nobody was frantically searching their purse or bag, nobody was asking for help in finding their wallet. Looking back down at the wallet, Sam slowly opened it before seeing the driver's license right in front of her eyes. Looking over the young girl's face, Sam slowly rubbed one of her fingers on the picture. She looked so normal, so...human. Long brown hair, curly and one of the curls had fallen into her face the moment her picture had been taken. Freckles dotted the girl's face and light brown eyes with a shine in them that Sam had never felt. The girl, her name was Dominique, smiled so wide with such happiness in her expression alone. What was it like to pass a driver's test and have your own car?


Quickly wiping away a tear from her face, Sam took out the driver's license and toss it aside, letting it fall into a puddle nearby before she dug further into the wallet and found a hundred dollars after a quick count. Eyes widening a bit, Sam grinned and quickly stuffed the money back into the wallet before pocketing it. Screw feelings and being nice, Sam could put this money to good use in her own life. Plus, she doubted any normal human would want her help. It was the same response every time...she was nothing more than a demon to normal humans.

 

[Gus]

So welian said spoilers are not required, but there is quite a lot here, so I am putting them in. Nothing new here; recent conversations reminded me that I had forgotten to bring my old prompt responses forward to the new site, which I meant to do a little at a time, but kept forgetting about. New folks might find some entertainment value here… For those who have been at AEGIS all along, or longer than me, I ALSO have a file of (I think) all the old prompt responses from the old site. So if you lost your files in the shuffle of the old OOC, shoot me a PM and I will happily forward the text of your prompt for you. If you HAVEN'T lost it, you should re-post it. There should be more stuff in here. Moar and moar stuff! If nothing else so that I won't feel shy about posting more stuff of my own. Prompts are fun, and you should all do them all. 


Test day Prompt

Spoiler

Lucas day 1


Lucas smiled nervously at the tech across the table from him. She scowled, plucking the EEG probes off his temples a little more forcefully than seemed entirely necessary.


“Did I do something wrong?” He asked


“You do know it is illegal to hold back during testing, right? We can't evaluate you without seeing what you can do.”


“But I don't know how my powers work or even what they are! How am I supposed to demonstrate them?”


She leaned her head to one side and raised a skeptical eyebrow, spun her laptop to face him.


“July 16th 2039, Lucas. The french super criminal now known as Mechanon attacked a street cafe in Paris for reasons unknown. You were there. Need I remind you we have footage?”


She clicked the play button and his voice came through, just barely, over the tiny laptop speakers.


                                                  “Eh! Calisse du Marde! Oui! Vous avec la bouche comme pissoir!”


For perhaps the thousandth time, he watched himself throw a plate at the back of the terrorist's head, where it shatters ineffectually on his metallic skin. Grainy and small as the image is, the deflation of his defiant posture clearly communicated the dawning realization that he was about to die. Lucas hardly needed the video to remind him. It had been over a month, and he was still waking up with cold sweats thinking of it. From behind the monster had looked almost human, but as it turned... Lucas looked away, trying not to remember the four razor sharp appendages that had lashed out at him. Through him. Then the security camera went to static, and his own memory was blank along with it. The next thing he had known he was in Denmark, naked, and on the wrong side of a power substation fence.


He looked back up at the tech, met her gaze, and shrugged. He had no clue how he had survived that thing, or how he had traveled over 600 miles in a matter of seconds. They had already ruled out teleportation and (painfully) regeneration, and he was beginning to think he was being pranked. She stared back at him, searching his eyes for a lie, sure that it must be there.


“So you expect us to believe that an ordinary teenager was fool enough to confront, and lucky enough to subsequently defeat an S class super criminal? All without any resort to use of powers?! If you didn't know you had an edge going in, why on earth did you attack?”


“Wait, what? I defeated him? What are you talking about? I froze up, he impaled me through the chest, and I woke up somewhere else without my clothes, and you're telling me that was a win? What planet are you from? Are there hidden cameras in this room?”


“Mr. Marsolet, this is a Commonwealth interview room; the cameras aren't hidden, they are there, there and there. Also in my laptop. Anyway, I'm sorry, but I assumed somebody had told you. Mechanon was found unconscious at the site of your confrontation by French security forces shortly after this footage was taken. I would have thought one of them might have said 'thank you' but that's the French for you, I guess. No offense.”


“None taken. Anyway, I'm American, of Canadian descent.” Lucas looked thoughtfully at the image of static on the laptop. “May I?” he asked. She nodded her permission, and he ran the video backward frame by frame. Suddenly he felt as if all his hair stood on end as everything clicks into place. “THAT'S IT!” he shouts. “Sorry. See? Here. Just at the edge of the frame, behind me. That's a transformer. They look different in France, ours are on poles, but their grid is mostly underground so they have them in boxes on the street. I remember now that I'd been backed up against it. I remember the hum. It wasn't me that knocked him out at all, he must have punched through me and into a high tension cable! And that must mean...”


Lucas stared at his hand a moment, then tentatively reached out and passed it through the leg of the main camera's tripod. There was slight smell of ozone, and a small popping noise drowned out entirely by his victorious whoop.


“That's it?” she asked, clearly unimpressed. “That's how you defeated Mechanon. You just phase through metals? Boring. Barely D class.”


“Not so sure. I think there might be more. I didn't just survive the impaling. I also had to survive a shock that took out an S class. Try hitting me with your taser sidearm!”


“Don't tempt me. These run off of building power, kid. They are not toys.”


“Seriously. I am like 95% sure this will work. Don't you have a low power setting?”


“Yeah, but it will still knock you on your ass.”


“Want a bet?”


Her taser cleared the holster with surprising speed and the barbs shot out and dug into his shirt. He flinched, but then relaxed and grinned. He couldn't feel a thing. She looked puzzled, double checked the settings, and then slowly turned the dial all the way up into the red zone. Lucas looked decidedly pleased with himself. Sparks were shooting out his toes and off the tips of his hair, but he didn't even feel a tingle. More like a tug. Yeah. A distinct... tugging. Then the room started to look distorted, and then it was gone. Then there was a sense of moving through a crowded space, like jostling through the bus terminal at rush hour times a million, and yet as if rather than impeding him, the crowd was impelling him, propelling him to mind bending velocities. And then he was back in the interview room, but standing by the outlet in the corner. Naked. The tech looked him up and down, thoroughly disapproving, and sat down at her desk to fill out the interview and ranking forms.


“Put your damn clothes back on Mr. Marsolet. I'm going to bump you up to a C level. For your sake and mine, I am going to leave out the part about you burning out those three substations and browning out the city. If you have half a brain you won't mention it either. Report to Facility 108 on September 6th. Don't be late.”


Aaron day 1


February 22nd, 2038 AEGIS, QCIC division.


“Comptroller? That new hire over at 108 tripped a flag in the system. Our guy in commonwealth extracted this from their central records building. He said they won't miss it, so take whatever time you need with it...”


The package falls heavily into the inbox. The envelope is practically an antique, a bubble padded mailing envelope colored like urine after a particularly bad bender, with signs of being resealed multiple times. It is covered with big red stamps. Commonwealth Archive Files. Director's Eyes Only. Do Not Duplicate. Blah blah blah.


Right.


The first file is grainy security footage of a laboratory. In the lower left corner the timestamp is 9/4/02 9:03 over the logo for CERN. Enhancing software can't do much with the images themselves due to the age of the file and poor data quality of the camera, but it does smart label various key pieces of lab equipment and attaches accordion dossiers to each person passing through the shot via facial recognition and a secure microburst web search. Most of the people are random technicians, but three show up highlighted in red: Karen Kyles, Adam Mallory, and Aaron Mallory.


Karen and Adam are holding Aaron's hands, and she crouches down here and there to point out various points of interest, whereas Adam seems content to be led around the lab without any real aim. A brief scan of the bios indicate it is Aaron's sixth birthday, and that both his parents are presumed deceased on or about 9:07 am of this same day. Fast forwarding a bit reveals a crowd gathering by the bank of monitors on the far wall.


There appears to be much general excitement, followed by some kind of panic. The screen goes dark for a moment and then emergency lighting kicks on. The wall of monitors is warping visibly as one by one the screens shatter and smoke. There is some kind of flashing warning light a little too close to the security camera that saturates the CCD and washes out the picture on and off. One can almost imagine a warning klaxon pulsing along in time with it. Most of the people are stampeding to the exits, but the three red files are staying put. Karen is doing something to a control panel near the monitors while Adam shields his son from the buffeting of the crowd as near to her as they can get. Aaron is reaching out for his mother.


The wall of monitors suddenly gives way, and it is hard not to lose one's balance, even just watching the video. The wall seems almost to 'fall' outward and away from the camera, forcing one to shift perspective, as if out has become down. Karen flips over the waist high instrument panel and barely catches herself by one hand on the near edge. Adam grabs her other hand and holds on, but only barely, bracing his feet under the panel. He has let go of his son, but strangely Aaron seems unaffected by the shift of perspective, running to his mother's side and trying to grab her around the waist. The space beyond the wall is a swirling mass of chaos. Lab notes, brick and mortar, glass and other detritus seem to all be falling toward a small central area of impenetrable darkness at the center of a gaping hole in the building. The upper floors are sagging dangerously, and the whole building appears close to collapse. A hapless figure from one of the lower floors 'falls' up into the darkened area and vanishes from sight. The facial recognition software is unable to retrieve a dossier for him before he is gone, a faceless victim of this 36 year old disaster. The timestamp clicks to 9:06.


For a moment nothing new seems to happen, until almost imperceptibly, dark tendrils begin to spread from the central hub. They are hard to see, uncomfortable in fact to even look at, but they are undeniably there. They look like cracks spreading through a piece of glass, as if the lens of the camera were giving way under the stresses on the building, except they are clearly spreading from the central darkness, in three dimensions, as if they were cracks in reality itself. They spread slowly at first but rapidly home in on the huddled family unit, as if driven there purposefully. Aaron slaps one of them away from him, and it rears back as if injured, but returns more quickly, and with reinforcements. His mother appears to shout something and tries to kick them away from her son, but as she makes contact, she seems to vanish, leaving her husband and son holding empty air. Now Aaron attacks the tendrils in earnest, swinging his tiny fists, beating them back, grabbing them and yanking pieces of them off as if they were made of black cotton candy. His father leans out from his precarious perch, trying to help and then he is gone as well. The little boy, alone now, throws his arms wide, fingers splayed, body shaking. Even in the silent video, the vibrations of his scream are almost palpable. The tendrils of darkness withdraw for a moment, but then begin to close in again. This advance looks different from the previous assault. It is hard to say now whether they are stalking the boy or rather trying to pull back and failing. As they make contact with him, the central area of darkness begins to advance as well. Now the camera lens really does begin to crack and the last frame of the video shows the boy and the darkness suspended in mid air, joined together by a legion of tendrils, drawing gradually closer as the building collapses around them.


The second file is video from an interview room, and this time there is sound. Huddled in a chair on the far side of the metal table is the outline of a small child, but blurred as if the footage were redacted. A quick check of the video inspector tool though, shows it is unmodified. The child is actually blurry. Squinting, one could become convinced that it was the same child from the previous file, but the software can't make the leap, so he does not get the smart-labeling treatment. One of his wrists is chained to the desk, and one ankle to the table leg. The door opens and a commonwealth agent come in and takes a seat, back to the camera. The split second of profile is all the software needs, and the interviewer is instantly labeled Brahn, G. The accordion file however, is redacted. Typical commonwealth paranoia. The comptroller makes a note to hack the file later. The door remains open and there is the sound of something like heavy equipment being maneuvered, but whatever it is doesn't enter the camera frame. The child doesn't seem to notice, remaining huddled and looking toward the back corner of the room over the interviewer's right shoulder. Agent Brahn glances back to his left.


“Are those chains really necessary? He doesn't look belligerent.”


A mechanically modulated voice buzzed, slightly too close to the camera's audio pick up. The identification software gave up no useful information except that the modulation was sophisticated; designed to communicate clearly without allowing for any possibility of identity penetration. Impressive tech for 2002.


“Agent Brahn, there is far more to this 'child' than appears on the surface, more than you can possibly comprehend. I have formally requested that he be immediately remanded to my research program. He needs to be studied, quickly, carefully and then immediately sanctioned. He is more dangerous than the rest of the S classes we know of, combined. He cannot be overestimated. This interview is a waste of time. Give him over to me immediately.”


The agent took off his glasses and put them down on the table, lowering his head and pinching the bridge of his nose.


“Sigi, I respect your work, you know I do, but this is a six year old child we're talking about not a mass murderer. There is a moral component to our jobs you know.”


“I am well aware. It is one of the least intelligent aspects of any intelligence organization of which I have ever been a part. The director has given you latitude in this, but you would be wise to accept my counsel. My calculations show he has the potential to destroy the entire inner solar system from mercury to the asteroid belt. You cannot leave him free.”


The mechanoid voice is unreadable, but there is a definite tight control in the agent's answer.


“Thank you Sigi. I will take it under advisement. I would like to proceed with the interview now, if you don't mind.”


The sound of heavy equipment moving returns for a moment and then the door swings shut, cutting it off. The agent leans forward, trying to catch the eye of the child across from him.


“Aaron? Could we talk please? I know this has been a rough week for you, but if I could, I'd like to ask you some questions.”


“The robot man was wrong.”


“Sigismund? Don't mind anything he said, Aaron, he's not in charge here, though I'm sure he thinks he should be. He is wrong about a lot of things, and I won't let him hurt you, I promise.”


“Not that. He's wrong about just the inner solar system. If I don't keep control of the dark thing, it will make me eat the sun. And the...um, acc-scretion disk will evaporate anything within about 10 light years. Mr. Brahn, what's a light year? And an ascretion disk? I don't want to eat the sun. I want my mom and dad back, but the dark thing took them away. Is it going to make me eat the sun?”


“Who told you about light years and accretion disks and eating suns? Was it sig- the robot man? Did he come in here and talk to you without me?”
“No, I have not never seen him before. It was the big giant rabbit behind you. You can't see him.”


The agent reflexively looks up over his right shoulder where the child points, but there is nothing there.


“He says not to worry, that I won't never eat the sun, because he won't let me, and because you will help me get strong enough to fight the dark thing. It is a long time until the fight.”


“Well the rabbit is right about one thing Aaron, I will help you. That is what I am here for: to help you grow up strong and good like your mom and dad would want.”


Aaron nods, accepting this at face value in the way of small children everywhere. He yawns a prodigiously cavernous yawn and climbs up on the interview table, snapping the ankle chain as easily as if it were a strand of cobweb. He tries to curl up on the table, but the handcuff anchor is in his way and he pinches it between thumb and forefinger. There is a brilliant flash of light and it is gone. Agent Brahn jumps back out of his chair in surprise. The chain hangs loosely from his wrist and there is a smoking hole in the table where it was.


“I'm tired Mr. Brahn. I needs a nap now, ok?”


The child curls up on the table and appears to fall asleep instantly. The agent grabs his glasses and glances up at the camera, as if to make sure he is not the only witness to this. Shooting a quick look at the sleeping child and another back at the empty 'giant rabbit' corner, he turns and opens the door. As it closes behind him, his fierce stage whisper can be heard.


“Hey can I get a cot in here? Some blankets and-”


The closing of the door cuts off the sound of his voice like a switch.


The comptroller pauses the video and shakes the remaining contents of the classified mailer out onto the desk. There are easily a thousand pages of documents, held together with a few dozen industrial sized binder clips. The comptroller's hands blur for a split second. There is a rush of air and the papers are back in the mailer again. Minimizing the video and opening a search window, he speaks.


“Secure search on. Stealth search on. Query: Solo mission record reports, collate with solar activity, tectonic movement, and tidal anomalies.” His eyes scan down the list of results scrolling by at a prodigious pace, opening more tabs than will fit on all three monitors and scanning those simultaneously. He closes the window and erases the history.


“Hey, Rae? Pull Joey, Fathiyya, and Batel off of their current targets. This is our new top priority. Decrypt director Swan's personal communications from the last three years, re-encrypt them and send them to me via secure link. Ditto for Scarlett. Today. Also, inform Lisa Ramsey she has a new client starting as soon as possible.”

Lucas's 'Fever' Dream

Spoiler

Lucas stands before a pure white door, free standing in the middle of infinity. Behind him, and off to the sides there is nothing; a vast empty darkness, devoid even of stars that stretches to the limits of his mind. The door is locked. He knows this, although he does not know how. He peeks around the edge of the door frame, but on the other side there is just more nothing. Not even the other side of the door is there. He finds this less disturbing than one might imagine. He giggles a bit actually, and puts on a deep voice, reciting from memory:


“You unlock this door with the key of imagination. Beyond it is another dimension, unknown to man. The middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition. Between the pit of man's fears and the summit of his knowledge.”


He pauses for breath and leans down and headbutts the metal doorknob. The next moment he is on the broad front porch of a small white bungalow with red shutters and faux brick pillars and porch front. Brick steps lead down to a cobblestone walk between two young oak trees, opening onto a quiet street. Other bungalows, in a variety of colors line the street. Besides the different paint jobs, they are virtually identical. He pads down the porch steps, and picks his his way down the walk, cobblestones moderately uncomfortable on his bare feet. He stands between the oak trees, arms akimbo, looking up at the bright sunshine streaming down through the leafy green canopy above. The contrast of sky and leaves is striking and leaves him breathless with the beauty of it. He murmurs to himself, “You've just crossed over into... the Twilight Zone.” A light breeze ruffles through the leaves and his hair.


Another voice breaks his reverie, a low feminine contralto, sweet like warm honey, almost a purr.


“Maybe you'd like to put on some pants if you want to go on fighting evil today?”


He glances to his left, unconcerned by his nudity, and smiles at his disguised companions, Lady Justice and Ostrich Bob. Ostrich Bob is disguised as a pigeon perched proudly over a large poop stain on the roof of a rather scuffed up, worn out Subaru Justy.


“My trusty companions, you startled me! What brilliant disguises! You are, of course, correct. One must not go into battle with loins ungirded!”


He reaches for the oak tree on his right and pops open one of the many gnarled knot-holes on its trunk revealing a hidden light socket. He sticks his finger in, all the way to the back, making firm contact with the hot wire and speaks the words of power taught to him by the strange old wizard woman of the jungle and her mystical grandchild: “Em-Ehtolc, Snortcele!” Rather than the shock one might expect, there is a sort of a shivery feeling of skintight cloth rippling out over his skin, like silk ruffled by a strong breeze, spreading up his arm and across his body in the twinkling of an eye. Like magic his whole body has been covered from head to toe in shiny red fabric, leaving only his chestnut brown hair, his icy blue eyes, and his heroically manly chin, exposed. On his chest, his icon, symbolic of his power, stands forth proudly in embossed gold embroidery. He turns to his companions majestically and asks them in a deep and sonorous baritone. “Is that better?”


His companions have not been idle while he prepared for battle. Ostrich Bob has reverted to his human form, every inch the grizzled old veteran of many campaigns, five days growth of white stubble sprouting from his wrinkled chin. His eyes belie his years however, bright and sharp and curious. He spits out a mouthfull of feathers as he speaks. “Much better. 'S'not right traipsing about nekkid like a poncing great poofta! Big strong lad like you? S'umun might take liberties, like!”


“Now now, Robert, it isn't polite to judge another's proclivities, even if they are completely deviant... In a free society, Justice means never having to say you're sorry.” The warm contralto is now revealed to belong, not to a red car after all, but rather a young woman in glossy red armor, high tech meta-materials with an open face helmet, protected by a clear plastic shell. In her left hand she holds a rectangular shield nearly as tall as she is, and half again as wide, scuffed and scorched with the marks of frequent battles. In her right she wields an improbably long sword of some translucent crystal tapering from a broad base at the hilt to a bitter point somewhere above the tops of the oak trees. They all three grin at each other, basking in the glow of camaraderie and witty banter. The glowing colors of the halcyon afternoon seem as if they could last forever. Alas.


As with all things, the feeling passes and, as more often than not, serves chiefly as contrast to the stark change that follows. And follow it does, with startling dispatch. The sky darkens with clouds as the wind shifts to the east and howls through the branches of the trees, stripping them of leaves in the blink of an eye. The bungalows up and down the street all crumble into dust. Only the faux brick stays up. Lightning flickers in the stormclouds overhead and Lady Justice and Ostrich Bob cower in fear. A voice seemingly forged of adamantine shards of purest obsidian grates at them from the sky and all around them.


“Young fools. Only now, at the end, do you understand! Your feeble powers could never destroy my beautiful wickedness! Now, here in my darkness, you will pay the price for lack of visibility.”


In the midst of the storm, Lucas stands tall, turning in the midst of the widening gyre, holding the centre, he thanks whatever gods may be for his unconquerable soul. His head is both unbloodied and unbowed. With great conviction and passionate intensity, he shouts:


“You shall not prevail, Doctor Darkness!”

Mirror of Erised


(quadruple prompt!)

Spoiler

Solo


Aaron looks into the mirror, and the first thing he notices is how old he has gotten. That there is a careworn face. Lotta gray hairs in that beard. He juts his chin upward to take a closer look, when the second thing occurs to him. He can see his face. Plain as day. No blur. No distortion. The shock of it stuns him. He glances down at his hands. Still blurred. Holds them up to the mirror. Their reflection is crystal clear. How odd!


He peers at the mirror closely, trying to work out its optical properties. Perhaps some kind of real time adaptive prisms embedded in the glass? No. Too smooth. No seams visible. Unless... perhaps the adjustments were taking place below the nanometer scale? Hmm. That would be way beyond any earthly technology he was aware of, even at the bleeding edge. Maybe Fenrir robotics would have that capability. Their solid state meta-materials science was pretty advanced even back in the early 20s. And who knows where they might have taken that by now? After all, it is not as if he has kept up on the technical journals the last 16 years. It would allow for instantaneous 'descrambling' of the light reflected from his skin however...


As he pulls back, satisfied that whatever trick the mirror is pulling would need more than a mere visual inspection to reveal, he catches a glimpse of movement behind him. Something very fast. Something trying to be stealthy. Something with ill intent. The hair on the back of his neck stands up as he slowly turns to face it. Nothing there.


He glances back to the mirror and behind himself, he sees a figure in gold and black high tech armor bent double holding their right wrist in the their left hand, smoke and sparks pouring out of the armor. The knuckles of the armor were flattened out and crushed, which Aaron recognized as the telltale signs of somebody having punched him in the back of the head. But usually he at least feels it...


Keeping his eyes fixed on the mirror, he waves a hand behind him, to see if the image is really reflecting the room or not. Nothing. Interesting. So the mirror shows him as he is, removing the distortions, but is ALSO capable of editing the scene and adding things that aren't there. Extraordinarily sophisticated display technology. Aaron folds his arms and takes a step back, observing. Somebody has a message for him and has gone to some trouble to deliver it; might as well find out what it is. The image of himself in the mirror has stopped, well, mirroring him, and turns to help the assailant up and into a chair. Impossibly, the mirror scene follows them, like a movie, panning about until the view faces doppelganger Aaron over the armored figure's left shoulder. Carefully peeling off the ruined gold and black gauntlet, ignoring the flares of explosives and shrapnel this triggers, he reveals an unexpectedly feminine hand beneath it. Her knuckles are bleeding, and the wrist is bent at a very awkward angle. He carefully wraps it in gauze and gets down on one knee. He says something to her, but for all the sophistication of the display, the sound is muted. She reaches up to her helmet's faceguard and undoes some kind of electronic safety catch. There is a puff of some kind of vapor, and the helmet opens. She pulls it off one handed and a cascade of long hair falls out, obscuring even the ¼ profile of her face. She tosses the helmet down on the floor and gesticulates angrily at the Aaron image. He says something to her, a grave look on his face. He speaks at length, with clear passion and much gesturing of his own. When he is finished, she buries her face in her hands, shoulders heaving. He hunkers down in front of her, and gently pats her shoulder. She lurches forward and throws her arms around him, shoulders still heaving. Mirror Aaron looks taken aback, but embraces her, in return, ever so tentatively, careful to be gentle. He pats her back again, whispering something in her ear. Aaron is not much of a lip reader, but even he can get this: “There, there. It's all right.”


Amp


Lucas looks in the mirror and cringes. Where have his clothes got to now? Naked is just not a good look for him. No amount of working out or training at the dojo seems to make any difference; he is just a scrawny kid and it seems he will never grow out of it...


Even as the thought occurs to him, rippling red silky cloth flows upward from his toes, covering his body up almost to his scalp. The flow peters out just shy of that though, leaving his rich chestnut brown head of hair exposed. Most of the rest of his head is covered, excepting his eyes and the area from his nose to his chin. The coverage otherwise is total, PG by the strictest definition, but the cloth is skintight and leaves precious little to the imagination. Speaking of which, the cloth seems to have brought an adult physique along with it! He has abs now! And pectoral muscles! Biceps. Quads. The whole package. So to speak.


On his left hip, a long coil of fine steel chain hangs like the revolver of an old west Sheriff. He smiles and strikes a pose, going steely eyed, and gruffly drawls “Ah wouldn't do that if ah were you, punk.” Behind him, a gunslinger pops up from cover, and takes aim at his back. Without even looking, he flicks the chain out over the shoulder and knocks the aim off so the bullet harmlessly ricochets off into the sunset. A second flick and the gunman no longer has his gun. Lucas holsters his chain and casually dumps the bullets out of the gun before tossing the gun back over his shoulder to the chagrined varmint who catches it and slinks away. A scantily dressed dancehall girl flounces up to him from his left and whispers in his ear as she passes, surreptitiously slapping his butt on her way by him. He catches her about the waist and dips her way down, out of sight of the mirror. After he returns her to the upright position, she stumbles off, clearly weak in the knees. He smiles knowingly, and leans in to check the mirror more closely, rubbing several perfect lip imprints off of his cheek, chin and mouth.


As he removes the last traces of lipstick from his face, his smile fades to puzzlement. He steps back and looks down at his chest. A darker red stain is spreading across the crimson cloth that envelops him. A wide, jagged path running from his heart down to just above his right hipbone, is glistening wetly, dark red and sticky. Blood begins to flow freely from the stain, and his eyes roll back in his head. He tumbles over backward and then the mirror is empty again.


Magus


Lars ignores the mirror itself and traces the legend from right to left. “I show not your face but your heart's desire. Hm. Bit on the nose, but clever. Shows the alert reader they are on the wrong side of the mirror.”


Now he turns his attention to his reflection. His doppelganger winks at him, and he winks back. A slow, exaggerated wink, following it up with a little air kiss for sass. The mirror Lars smiles at this and holds up a military style encrypted thumb drive. He touches his index finger to his lips, and Lars nods, miming locking his mouth with a key and throwing away the key. Mirror Lars arches an eyebrow and slips the thumb drive into his pocket. Lars feels the drive drop snugly into his pocket, but gives no outward sign. His reflection waves and walks away out of the shot. Lars reaches out and touches the mirror, unsurprised to find it ripples like a vertical pool of mercury. A little bit of its silvery residue remains on his fingers and he touches the tip of his tongue to it to confirm. Yep. Mercury. Yummy.


“Not commonly known is the fact that the phrase 'Mad as a hatter' comes from the neurological effects of mercury on the human brain, and the common usage in the 18th century of mercury in curing beaver skins for hats,” he intones, as if dictating for a documentary. “Here I come, Alice.”


He dives headlong into the mirror, splashing mercury all over. When the ripples settle back into place, both the room and the mirror are empty, with no signs of Lars's passage except a few stray puddles of quicksilver on the floor.


Stingray


Manami looks into the mirror and grimaces. She has to crouch to fully see her muscular bulk. She looks savage and angry, and she instinctively pounds the mirror with her fists, slashing at it with her stingers. The image matches her, move for move, and somehow this just makes her more angry than before. She pounds against the mirror until she exhausts herself, howling like an animal. At last, she is spent, gills flaring with the effort to keep up. She winces in pain, holding her head with both hands as the transformation begins. Her bones crackle and her joints pop as her knotted muscles ripple and flex sickly under her scaly skin, shrinking away to almost normal. Respectable muscles, like a gymnast or a dancer. A dancer with scales. And gills. Practically no nose at all. She sighs, gills flaring again, and picks up her school bag and a little bundle of blankets and turns to go to class. Before she can trudge away, her parents come in from either side of the mirror and flank her, beaming proudly. She jumps back, startled, checking behind her and then looks back. Her parents are standing very close to her now, in the mirror, almost touching, and still smiling, even laughing now, full of pure joy. She smiles herself, tentatively, and then starts again when she sees the face looking back at her. She has a little button nose, smooth golden brown skin, silky black hair tumbling to her shoulders, and while her eyes are dark, they are normal eyes, much like her parents' eyes. When she smiles fully, her teeth are normal human teeth, white and straight. Her parents each put an arm around her shoulders, and she can almost feel them there, squeezing her warmly. It feels so good and loving, and it almost makes her weep to know her face doesn't actually look like that. She would weep, if she had tear ducts. In the mirror though, she is still smiling, and it is hard not to smile along. There is something radiant about that smile, something powerful and real, even if the image is counterfeit. The girl in the mirror is bouncing the blanket bundle up and down, as if soothing something inside it. Manami leans in, trying to see what is in there, and the girl obliges her, turning the bundle so she can see. A tiny little round head, with scaly blue skin and huuuge beautiful black eyes is staring back at her, puzzlement and wonder warring for control of his perfect white brow ridges. She sticks out her tongue at him, and he mimics her, revealing row upon row of tiny sharp teeth. Her heart skips a beat, utterly taken with him and struggling to look away. At last she manages to glance up at the girl, and she sees that she is herself again. She has her proper face again, and she smiles a pointy toothy grin back out of the mirror as her parents hug her tight while she cradles their grandchild, a picture perfect family.

Deserted Island Prompt

Spoiler

Aaron awakens with the taste of salt on his lips and rough stone scraping against his cheek. The sun is behind him and above him, shining down warmly on his back and gently tugging as it climbs the sky, as if trying to rouse him, like a friend who has found you passed out on their lawn midmorning, but is trying to stay polite about it. The moon is complicit in this, hovering on the opposite horizon, plucking at his shoulders, a light gravitational massage, restoring sense to the insensate.


He rolls onto his back and stares up into a clear blue sky, only now becoming aware of the sound of breakers rolling in, crashing over the reef some distance off shore. Slowly, it dawns on him that this is not where he went to sleep. It takes awhile for this to fully sink in, as it is an experience he has literally never had. Perhaps in early childhood, he supposes, but he has no memory of that. Where the hell is he?


A quick check of the sky tells him that the planets are more or less where he felt them last, so either it is a little later the same day, or about 11 thousand years into the past or future. Ockham's razor takes care of that question for the time being. Given that, and the angular position of the sun and moon, he must be somewhere in the northern pacific. Since he is not currently underwater, presumably he is somewhere in Micronesia. Maybe towards Palau? Roughly ten thousand miles from where he went to bed anyway... He sits up and looks around. There is a bit of beach toward the south, protected from the waves coming in from the east by a long stretch of submerged reef. To the north, the land rises gently into a heavily wooded area. There is no sign of trails of any kind. Bushwhacking is not exactly a problem for Aaron though, and he trudges off into the undergrowth to see what he can find.


After about 4 hours he has established that he is definitely on an island. There are almost a dozen small lakes, but no sign whatsoever of human habitation. Well, ok, archeological evidence of human habitation to be pedantic, but the remains of that village are at least 500 years old if they're a day. No sign of shipping in the area either, or at least not within signaling distance. He can sense some big tankers out there, and some activity on a much larger island about 20 miles to the northwest, but that is well outside his signaling horizon, given how low the hills are here. He is perhaps, beginning to panic a little. Not really badly yet, just a sort of frothy ferment of fear. He is on his way back to where he woke up to look for signs how he arrived here, when he makes his discovery.


“Oh, thank god!” he cries aloud.


He is going to be ok. He can hardly believe he missed it on the first pass. A whole field of dark green waxy leaved little trees, with easily hundreds of thousands of little buds, better than half of them blushing from green to red in the waning rays of the warm sun. He is going to be ok. Fresh water lakes and a virtually unlimited supply of coffee beans. He fills his pockets and heads down to the beach to make a fire for roasting.

Movie Night

Spoiler

The lights dim in the theater and the music swells as the stars skim across the water and arch over the lumpy white mountain. Just like that, Aaron is a little kid again.


He was just three months past his accident when Nemesis came out, and he'd had no idea what any of it meant, but fell in love with all of it anyway, immediately and irrevocably. If he had seen any movies before that day, he cannot remember them. He had found and watched every episode of “Picard's Show” as he called it before Christmas day, and all the various spin-offs, previous movies, and tie-ins before spring arrived. He had devoured all the official novels by his eighth birthday, and when those ran out, he delved into fan-fiction on the internet, some of which was pretty good, and some of which still made little sense to him, even years later, after he was old enough to understand.


He was a little over twelve and a half when they rebooted the universe, and he loved every minute of that, though it made him sad when Vulcan was swallowed by a black hole. He liked the way the new Spock could be emotional and logical without limiting himself to just one thing, as if you could only be a bucket of slop or a robot with no point of balance between the two. Like many boys of his generation, Aaron aspired his whole adolescence to find that balance.


Since then he had seen the spawning of a new series, nine new movies, including five about the USS Discovery, and found to his delight that an eighth serial had started during his years of self imposed exile. He had binge watched the entire series to get ready for this opening: the first silver screen appearance of the crew of the USS Gallidorn, a ragtag team trying to protect the guttering light of civilization in a post federation galaxy, with a Cardassian at the helm and a Klingon in the captain's chair. Like every new thing, a lot of so called purists complained about a Klingon captain who didn't believe in battle, but in Aaron's book, people who believed in purity just didn't understand Trek.


And then the movie begins, and his reverie is swept away in a cloud of delightfully complex metaphors and science fantasy.

I, zombie

Spoiler

The apocalypse began simply enough. It began with a single, tragic, suicide.


One of AEGIS's dirty little secrets was that after the mandatory education phase was done with, there simply was not nearly enough funding to continue to track all the D levels, or even the C levels really. If they were not fundamentally dangerous to society in some obvious way, they were pretty much left alone, and left to their own devices. The fact that they might be a danger to themselves, or a danger to society in some inobvious way, was just an unpleasant fact of life that the agency had collectively adjusted itself to living with.


Sadly for the world, it was a fact that Vester Dodweald could not live with. Commonwealth had ranked him D, and slapped the label of Temporary Necroempathetic Psychic Disorder on what he could do, and called it a day. What he could do was rather curious. He could tell when a living mind died. He could just... feel it. Not the moment of cardiac arrest, but the moment of actual brain death. Any death, of any cause. Within an estimated radius of 100 miles. (It was actually about five times that far, but the techs lost interest halfway through his testing, and half assed their statistical model.) He felt an instantaneous pang of fear and pain, coupled with a strong sense of emotional loss, as if the deceased were a close family member or pet. Unfortunately, the pang was entirely non-specific. It gave no indication as to distance or direction, no information about cause of death or even the species that had died. Nothing with any potential use for a blue card whatsoever. So they shipped him off to 108 and walked him through the required classes. Nobody had anything useful to teach him. Nobody could make the pain less. Nobody really even tried to except for McNabb, and whatever it was he had done, or tried to do, it didn't work. If anything, Vester left 108 even worse off than before. He was given no counseling, no medications, no parting advice. He couldn't hold a job because everybody who hired him thought he was 'too damn twitchy' and pretty quickly found an excuse to let him go. The American's with Disabilities Act would have protected him, if anybody had thought to tell him his rights, but nobody did. Just another so-called super who fell through the cracks of a system geared toward world ending threats. One summer afternoon, about six weeks after 'graduating' from 108, he walked into a Walmart, overpowered a clerk in sporting goods, and stole a shotgun from the display case. He loaded one shell. Screaming that he was going to make all of them feel it for a change, he rounded up several dozen shoppers, forcing them into the butcher's department at the grocery end of the store. His last tearful words, as he gestured at the meat on display, were these: “You know I feel them go too?”


Then he turned the gun on himself.


For the next month or so, nothing happened. The signs were there, if anybody had bothered to look. Increased hunger for meat and a rise in all measures of aggression was spreading through the population like wildfire. That, by itself, might have easily been mistaken for business as usual in America, for what could be more American than endless appetite for red meat and summer epidemics of violence? What should have been obvious, in retrospect, was the pattern of the spreading violence. There was a lot of finger-pointing at the CDC when the incidence of biting attacks among both humans and animals began to skyrocket worldwide, but by then it was far, far too late. Cities were falling apart. Rural areas were only marginally better. Quarantines shut down the flow of commerce, and food rapidly became hard to come by. Martial law was declared, and blue-card holders were given emergency powers. AEGIS schools became emergency shelters where the hapless E ranks could be more effectively defended by their more durable fellow citizens from the hordes of the so called 'Vester Virus.'


And now the story has come full circle, back to AEGIS facility 108 in Baltimore. Effectively, the plague began here. Fitting then, that it should also see it reach a final end.


Aaron was on watch, one last night. Just a few more hours. Over the last month they had managed to secure the entirety of Sparrow's point, as well as all of Edgemere, Fort Howard, and North Point Park besides. Partly it was the dumb luck of geography, and that the 695 bridge was still closed down, but it was also down to teamwork. Red had converted to the remaining bridges into impromptu drawbridges. Eve had effectively turned the peninsula into an Island. Manami patrolled the water. Ioana patrolled the shore. Kenith did long range reconnaissance searching for survivors while Mary and Jamie fetched them in. Ren and Viola checked them for infection, and McNabb and Eden, working together were able to cure all but the stage III and IVs. Pretty much everybody else at 108 was either on morale duty, like Asher and Denzil, Research division, headed up by Jordan and Viola, or on anti-incursion strike teams. Aaron was on call for strike duty tonight. He was the designated heavy-hitter for night duty. Tabitha got the daytime shift. His eyes and communications team consisted of Joel and Morgan, while Victoria and Alexis rounded out his clean up crew. They made a good team. Zero successful night-time incursions in the three weeks since they secured the island. Working together the staff and students of 108 had managed take territory, hold it, and to save nearly 100,000 people. Aaron took a sip of coffee. It was enough. Enough to sustain the species even if every other enclave in the world failed. Best of all, they only had one more night to go!


“Thank god for pure research!” he thought.


Jordan had shown them the light at the end of the tunnel, just as their community was beginning to lose hope. Working with Viola and McNabb to determine the limits and vulnerabilities of the virus he had finally determined the cause of the rapid degradation of Stage IV plague victims. While the virus made the subjects in stage three preternaturally strong and fast, as well as aggressive and cunning fighters, it also made them highly vulnerable to solar radiation. Since their higher reasoning centers were shot to hell, they didn't know enough to stay out of sight during the daytime. Jordan estimated that the population decline had begun about eleven days previously, and that the population of stage IIIs in baltimore would be down to less than one hundred individuals by noon tomorrow, and effectively zero before sundown. As of this evening however, there could be as many as 25,000 remaining in the city, and so they had to stay sharp. Just then Morgan spoke in his mind startling him. No matter how many times he had encountered telepathy in his long career, it always made him jump.


“Aaron, we've lost contact with Manami. Last known check in was up in Bear Creek, somewhere between the 695 and the 157 bridge. It's probably nothing; her mind is... slippery when she is in combat mode.”


“I'll check it out. Tell Alexis to take high sentry, Vicky's got the gate. Don't wake Ioana unless I call a code, ok? She gets grouchy when she doesn't sleep properly.”


“Understood.”


Aaron took a deep breath and reached for the moon. Space warped around his will, gently reshaped by titanic forces, like a rhinoceros trying to maneuver through cobwebs without breaking them. Once the tunnel was open, he slipped through as easily as pulling on a sweater. The moon was cold and dark. He always stayed on the night side of the terminator if he could help it. It was much easier to aim his return tunnel if he didn't have to fight the glare of the sun off of the moon rocks. He reached back for the earth, and a second later, he was standing in the shallows of Bear creek, waters lapping gently around his knees. He is about to call out for Manami when the water explodes all around him, positively boiling with furious assault. He catches a glimpse of Manami's body, torn asunder and cast aside by the wave of stage IIIs surging towards him out of the creek.


Aaron calmly activates his radio as he wades forward to retrieve her. He thinks his words as deliberately as he can while he says them.


“Morgan, Alexis, Victoria. Feet-wet in Bear Creek. Manami is down. I have her. Estimate 50 inbound. 48. 47. No trouble I can't handle... Move to north gate and prepare to repel stragglers.”


Aaron slings Manami over his shoulder praying it is not too late for McNabb to save her. She is one tough customer, but that wound looks bad. The attack wave is as predictable as ever; they never learn, no matter how many teeth they break on him, no matter how many of their heads he pops like rotten cantaloupes in his hands. As he walks backwards toward dry land they follow mindlessly. Walking into his arms like wheat into a threshing machine. They have no chance against him, and the medical staff have no means to bring the poor bastards back from this stage, so putting them down hard and fast seems the least bad option. On reflection, they do seem to be attacking a little more desperately than usual, with a little more brutality and savagery. Almost as if they know that their time is nearly done. Almost as if they know they've lost, and hate the fact they've been beaten at every level now. Almost...


Aaron's train of thought is derailed when one of the monsters claws right through a stage 3.5er to get at him a little sooner. The eager one's claws rake his face, but to no effect. Well, none on Aaron anyway. For the hapless ghoul between them, that is the end of the trail, and his blood sprays across Aaron and Manami in a fan of scarlet, the more grizzly for the way the moonlight makes it glitter. Aaron pauses for a moment to wipe his face off. The coppery taste of blood nearly makes him vomit, but doesn't stop him smashing three more of his attackers, even as he reels backwards, off balance and suddenly dizzy. His last rational thought is this:


“Oh shit. What if it's gone blood-borne? What if it's...”


His next thought is that he is hungry.


Morgan meets Aaron just inside the North gate. He looks a mess, covered in blood from head to toe, and strangely off kilter, as if tidal forces are throwing him off again. But there is something else. Something disturbing. Some niggling detail that should have been obvious right away.


“Mallory? Where's Manami? Where are Vicky and Alexis?”


The thing that was Aaron Mallory grins broadly, showing teeth as red as his gums, and wipes his chin with the back of his hand. He cocks his head staring strangely, as if Morgan puzzles him, as if he is a riddle to be solved. That is when it clicks. No surface thoughts. Stage III? He starts forward, implacable, unstoppable as ever. Except all Morgan has to do is say “Stop.” And he does. Stock still. Puzzled.


“I know you are still in there Mr. Mallory. You fight this. You can fight this a little longer. Dawn is coming. Hold on. I will get my brother and Eden and Mr. McNabb. They can fix you. No way those animals got you to stage III this fast. Hold on!”


Morgan runs away then, fast as he can go. Aaron, what remains of him, growls, low and guttural.


“Hungry!” he yells. “Aaaargh. Stop PULLING!” The blurry outline of the man begins to darken, pulling in the light of the courtyard and not letting it go. The gate warps, and the masonry of the wall begins to crumble. The man shaped patch of darkness flings its arms upward as if trying to ward off the moon.


“Night light hurts eyes. Day light shines off night light. Day light is hungry too. Eats family. Rrrrrr. AAAAaaarrrrrrron is hungrier. Eat the day light first! Family can eat forrrreverrr!”


The shape falls to the ground now. Perhaps its arms are outstretched toward the dawn, as if in supplication, perhaps it has just fallen in a heap. A few minutes later, it is gone. The others come back with Morgan, but find no sign of their former teacher and colleague apart from a few spatters of blood and his deep footprints. It has been a sad night, but the dawn has arrived at last. As one they turn to watch the sun rise, sparkling on the Chesapeake. It is a beautiful sight: a nearly perfect orange ball with just one tiny blemish. A tiny speck that spreads before their eyes and multiplies, like the boils of a plague. And then, without a bang, without even so much as a whimper, the light fades to black, and the stars come out again.

Let me go, or else

Spoiler

Aaron cast his eyes about the chamber. It was a little over three meters in radius and perfectly spherical and smooth. The bottom of the sphere held a pool up to his knees of some kind of viscous slick liquid which glowed a brilliant blue providing illumination. Cerenkov radiation, at a guess, which would mean the metal was probably some kind of uranium steel alloy, heavy on the uranium. It was warm to the touch, supporting that hypothesis. Maybe plutonium, but uranium would be much easier to come by. The entire chamber was rotating constantly on three axes, keeping the inner surfaces thoroughly lubricated. He could not get the slightest purchase on the walls, and thus could not bring his strength to bear. The radius of curvature was clearly calculated expressly to prevent that. A very neat trap indeed. It was a clever, efficient design, a very low tech solution to the problem of trapping a man with near infinite strength, but who couldn't use it to throw a punch. The high tech part was presumably outside the chamber.


That was was the intriguing part. Unfortunately, there was no way to examine it. There was not a joint or a crack in the chamber of any kind as far as he could see, and certainly no window. He could make some educated guesses, however. In order to redirect his returning wormhole into this chamber in the first place, they would need to have found some way of generating artificial gravity. He'd read about some promising research at CERN and Fermilab, about generation and refraction of gravitational waves, but whoever built this was far, far ahead of them.


The really amazing part was how they had managed to prevent him simply tunneling back out again. Without a target gravity well, he couldn't make a new wormhole, and somehow they had cut him off from the rest of the solar system entirely. The only field he could sense was that of good old mother earth, and while he could tunnel to the opposite side of her gravity well in principle, there would be the issue of coring out the planet in order to do so. Not an option.


So. Only one way out: Think. He had about 300 days of air in here. 400 at the outside. Presumably his captors' plans had a shorter time horizon than that though, so best to think fast.


Assuming they could generate gravity waves, they'd still have to modulate them to destructively interfere with every signal in the solar system, from tiny Sedna up to mighty Jupiter. Not to mention Sol and Luna. Whatever their method of generation, they'd have to have at least 18 generators, enough for three mutually perpendicular rings of 8, with six 'reflector dishes' of some kind. That plus a powerful supercomputer to crunch the celestial data, and they'd have themselves a gravitational deadzone. And he was in it. Still. No wave cancelation is ever perfect. The deadzone would have to have hotspots, even if only transient ones. He spread his arms wide, took as balanced a stance as he was able to on the rotating slippery floor, and he waited, feeling for some kind of signal, focusing his whole attention on 'listening' with his whole body.


“Aren't you the clever one. Who'd have thought you knew so much about physics, with just an undergraduate degree? How unfair of you, to have brains as well as brawn. Or is it mere intuition?”


The voice seemed to come from everywhere, the whole chamber vibrating to act as a speaker, the very last word in stereoscopic sound reproduction. Aaron was startled but tried not to show any sign. Of course they were watching him. They must be able to map his movements from outside the chamber, gravitationally. They'd have to, in order to adjust the deadzone to his movements. Presumably they could also hear him. Speakers work both ways, after all, being no different physically from a microphone. As if to confirm this, the voice spoke again.


“Nothing to say 'Solo'? No witty repartee, no banter? What manner of 'hero' won't acknowledge his captors when caught? Surely you must be impressed with the ingenuity it took to catch you. To contain you? Don't you even care to ask why? Don't you want to know what we have planned for you?”


“Why, what do you have planned for me?”


“Ha. You are merely the means to an end. You will catapult humanity to the stars! Your selfish and short-sighted heroics, so called, are a travesty! A frivolous waste of your power and potential. I—we, will show you what you are truly capable of achieving! Behold!”


Having cranked his gravitational sensitivity up to maximum probably made what happened next a lot worse. No episode of tidal vertigo he has ever felt remotely compared with this. His face and upper chest were pulled violently upward and forward, his back arching in involuntary spasm. A split second later, an even greater force slammed into him, extending from his calves up to the small of his back. The magnitude of the second force was positively staggering, like nothing he has ever experienced. Impossibly, the shock of it actually knocks him up off of the ground, flipping him a full backward somersault, to belly flop face down in the now roiling fluid on the bottom of the chamber. Or he almost did. A split second before landing in the blue glowing cauldron below him, he was caught neatly as if by invisible ropes around his wrists and ankles. Now hovering near the middle of the chamber, it was all Aaron could do not to scream. He felt like he was going to be pulled limb from limb. Worse still, the forces were inconstant, tearing at him, first one way then another with no discernible pattern, no respite, and no chance to catch his breath and brace for the next torturous, rending wave. He felt his left shoulder dislocate. Writhing with the pain of that, his right leg twisted hard enough to break his knee, and he screamed in agony. In response the surround sound leapt to life again.


“It works! It works! Be quiet you stupid little man! Your pain is nothing in the face of this achievement! I have just created warp drive. You have just powered this ship in the furthest, fastest manned flight in history! We passed mars in a matter of seconds! We could be in other solar systems within a matter of days!”


Aaron bit back another cry of pain as the gravitational forces released him. He floated now, still near the middle of the chamber, experiencing microgravity for the first time in his life. Strangely, he felt no vertigo at all. The voice continued ranting, but he tuned it out. The pain was lessened considerably. He felt... oddly detached, as if his body was disconnecting from his mind. He tasted blood, realized it was flowing freely from his nose. What a strange feeling. Pain had always been something theoretical to him. Blood? He hadn't even been sure he actually had blood until now. He blows his nose and a large bolus of fluid comes out, appearing almost perfectly black in the blue glow of the chambers lubricant, which was now spread more or less evenly around the walls in the absence of gravity. It seemed to have too high a viscosity to form bubbles and float away. His blood was thinner than that, however and rolled up under its own surface tension, forming a roughly spherical blob that floated nearby, reflecting his face back to him, even more distorted than usual. How much must that little ball of blood weigh? For a normal human, no more than an ounce or two... but his blood? Trillions upon trillions of tons! Maybe enough to throw off the screening calculations? He blew on the ball, softly, watching it ripple, and slowly, it drifted away from his face until it hit the edge of the chamber and began to mix with the layer of lubricating fluid carving complex rivulets through the blue goo. Almost immediately the gravitational deadzone became unstable. He began to get a sense of where they were, but couldn't sense any bodies large enough to jump to for long enough to make the jump. They must be somewhere in the asteroid belt. If he could just get a fix on Mars...


“What are you doing in there Mallory? These density readings don't make any sense! Unless... are you bleeding? Is that your blood spreading out along the sphere? You have to stop that! You have to stay near the middle of the chamber or the drive will become unstable!”


As if on cue, the sound of metal under stress reverberated through the chamber and a tremendous invisible force swatted Aaron out of the middle and into the wall, landing heavily on his injured shoulder, making him cry out in pain again.


“Stop it! Stop it! You're going to run us into an asteroid!”


“You seem to be laboring under the misapprehension that I am doing any of this on purpose. You are using me to bend space-time to simulate superluminal travel. The only way I know how to warp space is by making wormholes. Turn off your masking fields and I will gladly see myself out.”


“I can't let you go! I'd be stranded out here!”


“Either you let me go, or I batter myself to pieces on the walls of this chamber. Do you know what will happen to my mass if I die? Because I don't. I am guessing gravitational implosion though. Let me go. With any luck, I can get NASA to send a probe to fetch you before you run out of air.”


The voice of his captor fell silent, presumably considering this new prospect. In the meantime, the deadzone was becoming less and less stable; for a moment, he had a bead on Mars, but then it vanished again. Another gravitational surge tossed him across the chamber like a rag doll. He nearly hit the wall face first, barely getting his good arm in front of himself in time. He got his good leg under himself and pushed away from the wall, or tried to. The wall follows him, warping inward with a terrible sound of rending metal. The blue fluid, now somewhat purple from mixing with his blood flows onto him. Dimly, he can hear his captor shouting, but he can't make out the words. A shard of metal from the wall tore inward and pierced his chest, but not deeply; it disintegrated on impact, spaghetified by tidal forces. Another piece tears off and hit his thigh with similar results. Neither impact had half the effect of the sudden realization of what was happening to him. A gamma ray burst would have had less effect. He had lost control of his powers. Using him as a warp core it seemed, had upset whatever equilibrium kept his gravitational forces under wraps. He was, in effect, about to be the first warp core breach outside of a Star Trek story. Except the writers of Trek stories had always vastly underestimated the energy necessary to bend space-time. Aaron had thought about this problem for years. Worried over it, contemplated it, and eventually solved it. Theoretically, there was nowhere in the solar system safe for him to implode. Mars or Jupiter would throw all the inner planets out of their orbits from the shift in mass. Ditto Venus. Mercury would be close enough to siphon off the Sun's mass into an accretion disk within about a hundred years, and landing on the sun would leave less than a decade. Imploding on the moon would put earth well within the Roche limit. Even if he had time to make it to one of the outer dwarf planets like Sedna or Pluto, it would disturb the Oort cloud and plunge the inner solar system into another period of heavy bombardment, worse even than the last period nearly four billion years ago. Aaron had lost sleep over this for years, until one night over a decade ago in Chile. Studying the southern sky he had spotted a weakness in space-time. A softer place. A trail through the sky, tilting crazily away behind the solar system as the sun rocketed around the galaxy. A trail that he left behind himself. A trail that he could push through, farther and faster than any wormhole he had ever made. He had never tried entering it, because he had no idea where it would lead, but he had slept well that night, because he had no longer been afraid of what would happen to earth when death came for him. And as the earth's first starship imploded around him, he reached as deeply down the cosmic rabbit hole as he could...


...and then he was gone.

 

[Gus]

Genre Buster


Aaron was in the dark place again. He knew from years of experience that his body was asleep, but he had long since given up the idea that the dark place was merely a dream. Dreams didn't leave marks on reality when you woke up. Only demons could do that.


He wasn't even sure if he did dream, properly speaking. The only thing he ever remembered upon waking was wandering in the darkness and occasionally talking with the entity that lived down there. When he was ten, he told the thing living inside his head what his foster parents had told him: that it was just another part of his mind, that his 'dark dreams' were just a way for his subconscious to come to terms with his gift. The noise it had made had been horrible, a wet and sibilant chortling, like a man collapsing on the gallows steps and succumbing to pneumonia, grinning at the hangman and expiring. When he had woken, the entire cul-de-sac he lived on had been reduced to a crater nearly 900 feet wide, and his foster parents, neighbors, childhood friends, pets, homes and all, were gone. Since then, he'd pretty much kept moving, never sleeping in the same place twice, and never sleeping near other people if he could help it. Daytimes, he would help who he could find who needed help, but nights? Nights he made for the abandoned sectors of the city, sleeping in whatever shelter he could find.


The darkness around him rippled, bringing him back to the present. The ponderous bulk of the spirit within him shifted soundlessly somewhere nearby. He couldn't see it, but he could feel it draw nearer, impossibly huge, its very presence reshaping reality around it. Most nights, his dark companion was perfectly still, barely perceptible except for the prickling of hairs on the back of his neck. It was always there of course, watching him from afar; sometimes he could even feel it's regard while he was awake. On nights like this, when it was restless, these were the nights when it drew close. These were the nights when he could feel its tendrils of midnight draw close around him, hear its ragged breath. And every once in a great while, he would hear it speak. Tonight would be one of those nights. He could feel it. He shivered with anticipation.


The really odd thing, the most disturbing thing about speaking with the thing in the dark, was the incongruity between the dreadful nature of the thing itself and the strangely pleasing nature of its voice. It spoke in a rich and resonant baritone that seemed to rob the darkness of fear. It was a voice that could insinuate itself into your head, and echo about, playing on your natural sympathies until you were sure it meant no harm. Presumably, that would be when it would pounce. Aaron braced himself to remember why it should not be trusted.


“Heya kid. It's time to learn a new trick. They've found you again, and they're coming for you, and damn if they haven't figured out how to stop you from making a wormhole to escape. Stupid magic. Those rule breaking sons-of-bitches have made a mess of this whole reality. If they catch you, that's our last chance to bring your world out of the dark ages, burnt. So we aren't going to let them have you, ok? I don't think we can open another portal without risking complete dimensional implosion. We did more than enough damage that first time. Never met a reality quite so unstable before. But I guess that's what happens when magic is allowed to run things for eleven centuries.”


Aaron clutched his fists to his temples, trying to blot out the voice, trying not to understand what it was telling him. It helped when the demon spoke like this in nonsense metaphors.


“Get thee behind me, Satan! I will not hear your words. I will not learn your 'tricks!' Magic is YOUR doing. I follow the word. The best that I know how. I may be possessed, but I have used my powers to help people in your despite, and when my time comes to die I will face my creator with a clean heart.”


The voice was silent for a moment. There was a hint of a babble of voices, like a discussion going on, but just out of the range of hearing. Then a sibilant whisper heralding more speech from the devil inside him.


“OK, kid, here's the thing. There's a lot you don't understand, and the windows we have to communicate are not often, and they don't last. So I am going to go out on a limb here and hope there's enough commonality between 'the word' in our world and yours that I can reach you before they do. The alternative is to start by explaining quantum physics, and I'm sorry, Aaron, but that is a really dumb idea. Here we go. Kid, the knights, the ones you call demon hunters, they follow the word too right?”


Aaron hesitates, confused. What trickery is this? He narrows his eyes, realizing truth is an absolute defense against trickery. Emboldened, he half shouts:


“They are prideful. They twist the word to their own ends. They tear out the parts about charity and helping people. They use the word as a club to beat down anyone who resists, anyone who shows kindness to those they hate.”


“That's good kid. That sounds a lot like the word I know too. Have a listen: 'Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not prideful. It does not dishonor others, nor is it self seeking. It is not easily angered, and it keeps no record of wrongs. Love delights not in evil, but rejoices in the truth. Love protects all things, trusts all things, hopes all things and preserves all things. Love never fails. Prophecies shall fail, tongues shall be stilled, and knowledge shall vanish away. When we know in part, we prophesy in part, but when that which is perfect is come that which is in part shall pass away. When I was a child, I spoke as a child and thought as a child, but when I became a man, I put away childish things. We see each other now but through a glass darkly; when we are face to face, we shall know as we ourselves are known…'  the voice of the demon trails off for a moment.


You follow, kid? Wheels within wheels. It is hard to know who is right. You gotta trust your gut. The knights have no love for anything but power. Their kind has been holding your world back long enough. We want to help you, but we are running out of time. We estimate less than three minutes until their strike team arrives. Your escape routes are already cut off, Aaron. We want to help you, will you let us?”


The demon inside him had spoke words from the book. The arbiters said no true demon could speak a word of truth without dying. Aaron thought back over the good he had done with the other tricks the demon had taught him how to do. He thought of the pain he had seen spread from the knight's obsessive crusades. He swallowed hard. He knew what he had to do.

 

[Lioness075]

Fever Dream
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​

Spoiler

Sam shook in her head, shivers running up her spine and faint sweat lining her forehead. Despite the cold she felt, she was sweating and she had a strong urge to hurl. Her tail hung limply off the side of her bed, the bed sheets covering her body otherwise. She was torn between throwing the sheets off so she could cool off and hugging them tightly because her body was so cold at the same time. This truly sucks. Not a moment too soon, Sam began to feel her consciousness ebbing away and her fever soon overwhelmed her, driving her to pass out. It was probably for the best, all things considered.


Blinking, Sam's vision retained some weird fogginess in her peripherals, as she found herself in the middle of a crowded street. Confused, Sam looked around for a clue as to what the heck was going on before she spotted a wallet on the ground. Picking it up out of curiosity, Sam opened it to find the driver's license from before now had her own name on it and a normal-looking girl, who could very well be Sam without the blue fur and physiological changes. Frowning at this, since it didn't make too much sense, Sam looked away from the wallet to find herself standing in front of a mirror now. Just like the driver's license, her body looked to be completely normal, but if Sam looked down at her hands then she'd see her three fingers on each hand and know she was still a demon. 


Suddenly feeling angered by this, Sam lashed out at the mirror, watching it shatter with immense satisfaction. Except someone stepped out from behind it and Sam was faced by a normal-looking version of herself. 'Why so eager to run from yourself, Sam?' Scowling, Sam took a hesitant step backwards before replying, "You're not me." Laughing lightly with a dark overtone, the girl responded, 'Oh, but I am, Sam. I really am.' Growling, Sam leapt at the girl, aiming to tackle her, but she vanished from sight and Sam ended up falling into the fragments of the broken mirror.


Letting out a terrified scream at this, Sam flailed her arms about while she tumbled through the air, the feeling of vertigo throwing her into consciousness and resulting in her knocking over a glass of water on a small table beside her. The glass shattered on the ground and snapped Sam out of her terror, bringing her back to reality. Looking around, Sam realized she was in her apartment near the facility and that she was safe. With her heart still in her throat, Sam let out a both relieved and tired sigh, as she didn't exactly feel much better after that nightmare.

 

[Lioness075]

Mirror of Erised
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​

Spoiler

Slowly approaching the mirror before her, Sam paused uncertainly before casting her gaze around the room. Her nerves were getting the better of her, as she'd been curious enough to seek the mirror out, but she wasn't entirely certain if it'd do something to her. Approaching the mirror and stopping a few feet from it, Sam slowly waved her hand at herself, awkwardly waiting for something to happen.


Frowning when nothing was changing, Sam began to turn away when the mirror shimmered before her. Halting, she quickly faced the mirror again and blinked, as her image blurred and then reformed as a normal-looking girl. Her physiology was completely altered to that of a human's, freckles dotting her face and long, dark brown hair falling over her shoulders. Slowly holding up one of her hands in the mirror, Sam could see that she had five fingers and a normal hand finally. Looking back at the hand in real-life, Sam's brows furrowed at the sight of the three large fingers and small palm. Definitely far from normal. 


Yet, looking back to the mirror, Sam could see that she looked entirely normal. Nobody would freak out and scream at the sight of her. Nobody would call her a demon if they didn't know she could do anything unusual.


Walking up to the mirror until she was inches from it, Sam slowly raised her demon-like hand up to the mirror until it was resting against it with her human version's hand against the mirror as well. 


Letting out a soft sigh, Sam whispered to herself, "Normal..."


Turning away from the mirror since it was getting harder to look at, especially when she knew it'd never happen, Sam sighed and headed for the door, looking back at the mirror one last time to see it'd changed back to a normal mirror. All she could see now was her true self and Sam wasn't happy with that image.

 

[Lioness075]

Deserted, Tropical Island
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...WIP...
​

 
​

Spoiler

Blinking, Sam let out a small groan before rolling to her side, the glaring sun above her making her headache only feel that much worse. Slowly, but surely, she managed to get on all fours, her muscles protesting the entire way. Blinking again, her vision finally began to come back into focus along with her other senses bringing about the sound of seagulls not far from her. Where was she? How had she gotten here?


Looking from side to side along the beach, Sam soon spotted a backpack not far from her. Unable to recall what had happened before this, Sam had no idea if it was hers or someone else's. Had she been alone all this time? But how long had she even been here? Uncertainty crept at the edge of her mind, as she crawled over to the backpack, her physiology allowing her to move more comfortably and like an animal. 


Reaching the backpack, Sam quickly dug through it and took an inventory of what supplies she had. A tent, some matches, and enough food to last her maybe a week. Closing the backpack and putting it on, Sam looked back at the open sea for any sign of her not being alone, but there were no boats of any kind out there. Where had she come from? Knowing she'd find no answers out here and that she needed to find somewhere to call home for the time being, Sam got up on her hind legs only to stumble back to the sand with the weakness creeping through her body once more. Growling in annoyance, Sam remained on all fours this time, as she remained at a walk and made her way into the jungle-like forest just beyond the beach. 


Once within the jungle, Sam found it harder to move about even on all fours. She kept snapping branches this way and that with everything blending in on the forest floor and leaving her struggling to identify everything that was near her. Yet, she froze mid-step when she heard a twig snap and she knew it wasn't her own doing. Looking around sharply, Sam had no trouble seeing in the shaded jungle with her glowing eyes that allowed her to see easily in the dark. Alas, she couldn't find anyone or anything near her and so she tentatively kept moving forward. It took Sam a moment or two longer to realize she could no longer hear any seagulls...or anything really. It was as if the forest itself had grown quiet in anticipation of...something.


Moving slower and trying to be more mindful of what she stepped on, Sam continued into the forest with her head on a pivot. She had no idea what could present a danger here, but she needed to find some kind of clearing or even a cave for shelter. Camping out in the open on a beach was far from ideal to Sam and she doubted she'd be able to signal to anyone to come rescue her anyways. 


Hearing another twig break nearby quickly followed by a bush rustling, Sam panicked and suddenly darted forward, disappearing from the eyesight of whoever was following her before she became simply a blur for a moment longer. When Sam skidded to a halt from her fearful dash, she found herself on the edge of a clearing. Except the clearing already had a small hut along one of its edges and it appeared to have various plants growing in a garden just in front of it. 


Slowly, Sam approached the hut with a cautious glance over her shoulder along the way. She clearly wasn't alone now, but was this person friend or foe? Just because they had a nice and simple set-up, did not mean they were going to be welcoming to a stranger, especially one who looked like she did. 


Once at the front door, Sam slowly and still shakily got up on her hind legs, leaning against a wall for aid. Reaching out a fist to knock on the door, Sam froze when she heard someone approaching in the clearing.


Immediately, Sam pushed off from the wall and took up a fighting stance in order to try and intimidate them. Except her body was still weak and she ended up stumbling forward and falling down on all fours before falling to her side. As her vision faded, Sam could make out a girl approaching her, who definitely appeared to be normal and oddly enough wasn't fazed by Sam's appearance. Before Sam could hear anything said to her or make out any more appearance features of the girl, she passed out. 


When Sam awoke, she found she was lying in a cot inside of the hut she'd presumably found before. Beside her on a small table was a what appeared to be a clay cup and Sam slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position before tentatively picking up the cup and sniffing at its contents. 

 

[Bag o Fruit]

Zombprompt, Part I
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A spooky story to chill your bones this dreary night!!
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Trigger warnings:
 - Really long


 - Implied nudity


 - Explicitly stated but not described nudity


 - Gratuitous use of the pronoun game


 - Puppeting your character until the cows come home (it's a prompt)
 

Spoiler

Introduction
​

Planet Fitness. You will never find a more wretched hive of sweat and agony. 150 kilograms of dead weight ascends, descends, ascends, descends, falling and rising to the beat of a warlike groan. Finally, the hulk of a man sets down his burden with a clang like a thunderclap. He sits, sighs, drinks, towels off. He begins to stand up when he is snagged. "Hey." For an instant, he is frozen in mid-stand, searching for the source of the voice. "Hey," it says again "That was pretty impressive. You should sit down a while longer." He is no longer frozen: thawed, but hesitant. Then he sits. He is approached by a man on the smaller side, probably in his late forties.


"Uh, hey." The weight lifter glances around, not completely sure what to make of this man he could crush. "Thanks, man. How's it goin?"


"Going great, buddy. What about you? Why don't you tell me about yourself."


"Well, my- my name's Thom. Thom with an H, like Thom Yorke I guess... I'm from Ohio."


"Ohio? What brought you all this way? The human itch to explore the West?" The small man chuckled. Thom didn't get it, but he followed suit regardless.


"Uh, yeah, I guess... My family and I had kinda a fight. They're baptist, and I'm... uh."


"Ah, heh, say no more. How long ago was that? Settling in out here?"


"Not long I guess. Coupla months? Haven't really met anyone yet..."


"Lonely evenings? Cold beds?"


"... Yeah..."


"Well, Thom, I happen to be a practiced bedwarmer." The man leaned in closer. "Wanna find out just how hot it can get?"


"Wow, that... Wow." Thom rolled onto one side of the bed, and the smaller man got up and stretched. "I've never, uh... Never done that. I don't even know your name."


"Plenty of time for that later. Don't think I'm done with you yet, sweetcheeks."


"Do you... want, the same?"


"Unless you're getting sleepy, of course."


"Haha, no way." Thom turned onto his stomach. "I'll sleep when I'm-"


The smaller man's phone rang. He checked the caller ID. He answered "Ym. Nr. Nr, m-" He paused to take a small pair of scissors out from between his lips. "Yeah. I can't- Hey, I can't talk right now... Because I'm busy... Sewing! ... Yes. Yes I did... Don't judge! ... And just where else are we supposed to come up with them, volunteer army? ... No... No! ... Oh for- Look, I'm in the middle of this. Do what you need to do. Goodbye." He hung up, and put the scissors back in his mouth to work. Pulling the needle up, down, through, up, down, through, he began to hum to himself. "Duh dahdudu duhdahphudu duh dah deh dah dummbeh dahh..." He took the scissors out "-and I've got friends..." he snipped the thread at the end of the slit in Thom's throat. "-on the other siiide."


***

Faculty Lounge
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Josephine Cross chewed on an unlit cigarette as she ran the flat of her palm across the cylinder of her revolver, making a god-awful clicking noise that made most of the faculty that walked past wince. She pretended not to notice their faces as she crossed and uncrossed her legs that sat on the table.


Anneliese sat on the loveseat on the other edge of the rug, which really failed to tie the room together. She looked at Cross with bemusement, mingled with disapproval.


Feeling an intense stare burning through her skull, Josephine craned her neck towards the source of the look, and found purchase on the eyes of the local guidance counsellor, Anneliese. The cigarette in her mouth twitched, then repositioned itself on the furthest end of her mouth, away from the counsellor as she gave a lopsided grin. Her voice muffled through gritted teeth, she spoke.


"Just rememberin’ just how reliable this gun was. Humans, animals... supers…" Page Morgan walked in, gave a little yelp at the sight of the revolver, and scrambled out. Cross gave a chuckle, and returned her gaze to the silver cylinder.


"Sounds like quite the body count for a nurse." Anneliese leaned over to grab a mocha on the tiny coffee table, ending up half standing in order to reach. She sat back down and grimaced at her joints. "I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that that isn’t allowed in here."


"Beg pardon?" Cross coughed. "It in't loaded or nothin', I just figured..."


"Firearms of any kind, I'm afraid. I can take it to Ms. Morgan to keep it for the day, if you like."


"No... No. I'd better go take care of it." She tossed the revolver and caught it by the barrel before leaving in search the secretary.


Anneliese got up and sat down in Josephine's spot on the couch "Ohh, so much more comfortable." she sipped her mocha.


Interesting thought Larry in the corner. He was sweeping crumbs off a counter, but he designated his ocular sensors more useful gathering data to do with Anneliese at work. She seems to be somewhat of a manipulative prick. Perhaps I am more like a human than I am led to believe.


Anneliese became aware of being watched. So that's what she felt like. She slung her arm over the back of the couch and watched Larry right back. "Gonna make it a Troi - Data moment?"


Larry slowed his sweeping imperceptibly. Then he continued. "No."


"Suit yourself." She turned back to the door. "Damn good job there."


Larry did not respond, only puffed inwardly, increasing his speed by the tiniest decimal sweeps per second. Anneliese noticed.


***

Baltimore
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The awkward little sound of a muffled moan emanated off of a tall figure. He reached for his mouth with his right palm and brought the yawn to a full stop. The lack of sleep was betrayed by two obvious bags under the eyes. In an outburst of zeal, Derrick grabbed the chair in front of him and brought it to the ground on its back. He took a step over the person in the chair, positioning his feet inches away from each shoulder of the man tied to the chair.


"Hear me out, alright? I have a friend here who says you’re donating regularly to ‘Christian Angels for Victims of Collateral Damage’, am I correct?" he asked while leaning forward, setting his arms on his knees for support.


The man in the chair tirelessly threw words like "fucking freak", "dipshit" and "asshole" in Derrick’s way.


"Come on, I’m being nice. Am I smashing your face right now?" he looked up at one of the other people in the room and raised his arms in a confused manner. "Am I smashing his face right now?" The guy shrugged. Derrick took his previous position, looking the victim straight in the eyes.


"Are you implying that I should? Are you saying that I should be SMASHING YOUR FUCKING FACE RIGHT NOW?" The loud thud of a boot hitting a forehead three times rang inside the room. One last thud arose when Derrick hit the guy’s head with the side of his boot. He put some distance between himself and the lifeless body and sniffed once. Hands placing themselves on Derrick’s sides as he frowned.


"The only language these bigots understand is violence…" He turned towards the two other people in the room. "Too far?" One of them nodded, a woman of average height with, young and dark skinned.


"You could’ve went on with the question. Now we gotta find someone else." The other, a man, short and stout, eye replaced by a cybernetic.


"Or you could’ve let me handle it. You know I’ve got my way with these people. Anyway, what’s done is done. I’ll go see what else Felix’s got." And he exited the room.


"Knew I should’ve just let that lead die quietly." a nearby desk phone commented.


"Oh c'mon." Feigning exasperation, Derrick addressed the empty outdoor air, frigid and smelling of damp concrete. "Don't tell me you're gonna crawl up my ass about this again." His cellphone, skipping the usual ringing stage and activating speakerphone, responded.


"That depends; is there a hole in the side of your pocket?" the phone vibrated. "That would be a weird place for a hole."


"Shut the fuck up, there isn't even a hole in these." Derrick felt around in his pockets for a hole.


"Oh really, not even a bullet hole? Go shopping today? Or are these just your murdering-unarmed-people-who-give-to-charity pants?"


Derrick, having reached his car (car he found) groaned aggressively and pulled himself in. "Yes! These are those pants! I also have taking-candy-from-babies pants and a kicking-homeless-guys thong!" His radio took the reins on berating him.


"For Christ's sake, D, the guy was giving. His money. To charit-"


"It is a BULL-" Derrick slammed the wheel of the car, significantly bending it forward "-SHIT charity, Felix! 'Christian Angels for Victims of Collateral Damage' are you FUCKING KIDDING me? They're practically Knights all by themselves!"


"Right, Godwin your way out of this. You wanna make like you hate the Knights more than I do? Fine. Do that. Go fuck yourself too. But don't tell me the situation was well handled by the 'professionals'."


"GODDAMMIT!" Derrick started the engine. "No! I'm not getting into this shit! They were trying to help, Felix!"


The radio screamed with static "THE KNIGHTS PUT ON SUITS OF REACTIVE ARMOR, BUT COMMANDER AND JERICHO SET THEM OFF!" the car speakers blew out.


Derrick's phone chirped with the map notification, marking a new lead.


***

Emotional Composure Classroom
​

"Class, today we are going to talk about robots!" Allen performed a jovial, hopping smile, unfortunately failing to incorporate the eyes. "Androids, stationary robots, Cartesian robots, Gantry robots, spherical robots, mobile spherical robots, quadrupedal rob-" Allen’s lips continued to move without sound. Then he breathed in. "-ARA robots, and, er, swarm robots. Ahem."


A silence emanated within the classroom.


"Yes. Robots. Many of us are familiar with robots in our daily lives. Would anyone like to share something they know about robots?"


Kendrick stared at Mr. McNabb while he talked. The Emotional Composure teacher was a strange individual. Yes, all the other teachers also had something weird about them, McNabb's oddness though was... unique. He just felt something about this class was not right. The boy couldn't really place it as anything other than intuition, but it was enough to bother him. Why was this even today's class? It wasn't as if he needed it after all... He'd had his powers since he was 5, and nothing dangerous had ever happened, not to him or anyone else. With an annoyed huff, Kendrick rolled his eyes and raised a hand. He was bored and it didn't seem like this class was going to end any time soon, so he would at least answer the man's question, just to be doing something:


"Robots were built to follow orders. However, with the advanced level of AI these days there is a degree of uncertainty about how safe they really are, and a worry about the possibility of them turning against their masters. Which is the reason why we don't have any robots in the household, unless you count all the electronic appliances as robots too..."


Once he was done, the teenager glanced over his desk, giving Ted a 'save me' stare. He just despised this class so much. What did robots had to do with Emotional Composure anyway?


"Yes, indeed, Mister Haywood! When robots were first created, it was with the intent to follow orders. That was in a time before mankind had mastered the sentient robot. Do you know the origin of the word robot? I’ll give you a hint: It’s from a Czech word!"


"No..." Kendrick shot McNabb a glance that seemed to ask 'Do I look like a dictionary to you?', but instead of being direct, he preferred to use a more subtle tactic to reply: "...That sounds so interesting though, please go on.", he continued with a flick of his hand.


Of course that was sarcasm. The teenager let out a low sigh, wondering what the hell was even going on with this class... The happy-happy display of the EC teacher was more creepy than anything else. Really, had he ever looked at himself in a mirror? The whole cheerful and excited mood didn't suit him, AT ALL.


"Although automata have been mentioned in legends and myths of many ancient cultures, the word ‘robot’ originated in the 1920s Czech play R.U.R, by Karel Čapek, in which he borrowed the name ‘robotnik’ from his brother Josef. In Czech, ‘robota’ means ‘forced labor’, and ‘robotnik’ means ‘slave’. So, the original idea of a ‘robot’ is an enslaved automata.


"Now, in the modern age, we have documented sentient robots, who have passed the Turing test. Our very own janitor here at Facility 108, "Larry", is a sentient robot. I have asked him to attend today’s class for a lecture." Allen’s face became downcast. "He was… very busy.


"In any case, many people are afraid of sentient robots, as you said, Mister Haywood, because they are concerned that robots will overthrow humanity. Much, much science fiction media has cemented this idea within the public. Has anyone here ever felt fear at the possibility of a robot uprising? Show of hands, if you are comfortable sharing."


Alexis, Jamie, Danny and Kendrick did not respond, since three quarters of them had not listened to any of the class so far. Kennith, tentatively, raised his hand, then brought it down again. Jordan looked McNabb straight in the eye and raised his hand high, or as high as it would go.


"Does excitement count?" he growled.


"Excite... ment?" Allen's head tilted.


"To kill robots."


"Oh! My. Well, yes, that would require... pondering the scenario, often. Ahem. Yes." Allen stared at a ceiling panel. Jordan stared at Allen. Kendrick and Kennith stared back and forth between the two. Such a long silence reigned that Alexis glanced up to check that no one was staring at her.


Allen twitched "Ssso! Class. What... do robots have to do with emotional composure, anyway?"


Kendrick fell out of his seat, then righted himself, blushing.


"Mister Haywood! Are you alright? What was all that ruckus?"


"Nothing sir."


"Could you describe the ruckus?" Danny chuckled from the back of the room. Lazarus processed this.


"It was as though... it was as if... something, fell?" He looked at Danny for confirmation, who glared at him. Jordan turned back to Danny and mouthed 'AM I RIGHT?'


"Yes. As though something fell. It was. Ahem. Mister Travis!" Allen smiled profusely. "Can you think of a reason that robots are related to emotional composure?" He winked, laboriously.


Danny mimicked throwing up in his mouth. No one noticed. "Uh, I don't know. Are we supposed to assemble robots instead of having fucking feelings?"


"Mister Travis! I'm afraid I'll have to write your name on the board for your foul language. Don't worry though; a name on the board is only a warni-"


"Yeah, yeah, heard it like fifty fuckin' times already. Repetitive pedo freak."


"Mister Travis!"


"Oh, that explains why you like talking to Toy Boy so much-"


"HEY! I did not-"


"-cause he reminds you so much of a little kid. Are we a little old for your tastes, Uncle Feely? You and Shorty seem to have a good rapport too. I guess size isn't everything, right?"


"FUCK YOU IN THE THROAT, TRAVIS."


"Mister Brahn!!"


"I couldn't hear you over the sound of how adorable your tiny rage is. God, is that why we're all in this class? Cause we're the troublesome freaks? Fuck, I knew I was bad, but not on a level with Kennith over here. What did he do to merit an EC brainfuck?"


"Mister Travis!!"


"Uh, actually, I was kinda wondering..." Kennith began.


"This is all bullshit. Nobody gets to decide how I compose myself. What makes you think I shouldn't be such a fuckin angry loudmouth? I've had a fucked up life. I guess I didn't burn my father to death, but he got killed by freaks in any case."


Alexis put her head face down on her desk. Kennith hesitantly placed his fingertips on her shoulder, which she bristled off.


"Mister Travis!!"


"Man, fuck off! I don't need you tellin' me how to live my life. You're, what, eighty and clearly you haven't figured out how to be a useful member of society, or a good teacher. I'm doin' what I do, and fuck you if-"


"Danny, shut the FUCK-" Jamie, who had been carving into her desk until now, stood up and disappeared, followed by Danny. She returned to her first spot a moment later.


The classroom was silent. Jamie sat back down. Then Allen spoke.


"Miss Bishop?"


"Yeah?"


"W-where is Mister Travis now?"


"Office."


"... Very good." Allen turned around to begin writing names on the board.


***

Somewhere under Norfolk
​

"KNOX GET THIS GODDAMN FAKE-ASS SARCOPHAGUS OFF ME RIGHT NOW!"


"Gimme a sec! Everything here is weird; if I move it wrong, I could vibrate you to death!"


"Fuckin try me!" Red tensed up and turned his skin to a hard steel with a clank. Eve melted away the exotic riot-foam-like material that had restrained Ward, only to be encased in more herself.


"Shit! Overlord!"


"On it!" Nike shouted, finishing off three attacking automata. She swung her spirit blade, and as it sang through the air, it extended to meet the suppressant turret which had been creating so much woe. Her blade smashed it into many bits. "Whoo!" she cried. On the backswing, she clove through another automaton. "Bring it!"


Behind her, Riley picked her head up. "Is he here?" she asked, excited. Praxidike, with a gloved hand, gently pushed her back down.


"No sign. Calm down- " She looked ahead. "- and stay down. Until you can light up, you're in no shape to be fighting."


"Sure." She coughed. "What's with all this mist down here? I can't place what it is..."


"Dry ice, I would bet." Asher remarked, tuning his guitar. "I use it onstage all the time. It's perfectly in-character for this whacko."


"It isn't important right now. We need to find him as soon as possible." Jason declared. He grabbed at the material encasing Eve, tearing it off in one stroke. "The hell...?"


Red stood up and cracked all his joints in one unlikely stretch. "Lets get the hell on the roadshow." He motioned at the nearby security door, which groaned and vibrated as he pulled it open. He jogged through, closely followed by Nike.


"Wait!" Yelled Swan, but too late. The dark, wide hallway past the secure door shifted, warped, and reformed, returning to the same position, same dark orange glow of a doorway in the distance, but missing two people.


"Fuck." Praxi grunted "Now what?"


"We stick together. Close as we can." concluded Jason. Eve formed the bits of the suppressor turret into a metal hoop, enclosing the remaining party inside it.


"Let's see the fucker divide and conquer this!" she grinned.


They proceeded cautiously into the hall, the door of course slamming shut behind them.


"Alright. Eyes out. Eve, you're walking backwards at our flank. Praxi, take the lead, eyes forward. Asher, at Riley's right. Last thing we want is him to take us by surprise."


"Got it."


They proceeded slowly, Riley in a crouch and Eve trying not to trip over her. Something moved in the mist, behind the group. A dark shape, visible only by the path it made through the red-white blanket of fog.


"Audio! I got somethin'." Eve pulled a moderately-sized iron sphere from a pouch at her side, forming it into a polearm. Jason trained his pistol to the back of the group.


"Praxi, cover my blindspot!" Jason and Eve both walked backwards within the group, vigilantly scanning the darkness to their back. There was the sound of someone shouting from past the left wall.


"For the rest of forever!" It called, muffled. There were blows, and screams. A crack, shattering, gunfire.


"Nike!" Asher yelled, then pulled the amp off his back and held it outward. "NIKE!"


"Don't panic, Torch, it's probably a trick..." Praxi gave Asher a rough clap on the shoulder. It clanked. She considered this for a few seconds before turning to look at him. A faceless automata returned her stare. One stood up behind her, which drew her gaze to the two others. Four altogether. "Jesus!"


One reached abruptly out to her. She pulled off its arm and beat the other three into unfunctionality. "Guys?" she called.


"What is it?" Audio responded.


"Dunno boss." Eve said, teeth gritted.


"Not you. Didn't you hear-" He turned his head. The two were alone in the hoop. "Son of a bitch."


Eve turned around. "Aw, fuck."


"Son of a BITCH!"


Something moved again in the darkness.


***

Themis Investigations, one week ago
​

So many mysteries in Baltimore. The town is filled with history, sure. No doubt about it. But the modern stuff, that’s usually the real kicker. That’s the relevant mystery. And it’s always a mystery Tamara can solve. Who really shot Abraham Lincoln? John Wilkes Booth. Maybe not. Who cares. Lincoln, Booth, and everyone in Ford’s Theatre that night is dead now. Justice has no doubt been served. Modern cases… The ending is in the future. Modern cases are her favorite.


So, it should come as no surprise that her own case, the case of the Private Eye from Beyond the Pale, is neither a modern case, nor one she can solve. She set down the final relevant file for the fifth time. If she’d intended to go through them again, she would repeat the process of flipping the stack of files one by one. However, she had absolutely no fucking intention of doing that. She sipped her cream with extra coffee. "... Paska."


The phone rang. It was an ancient model, a desk phone. To her, it was still future technology. But she knew how to pick up a damn phone, so she did. "Themis."


"Tam!" answered a raspy voice on the other end of the line. Tamara flinched. There was one person on the face of the Earth she wouldn’t have tracked down and shot for calling her that. This was her. But she still wasn’t used to hearing her voice as an old woman’s.


"Blue. Leads?" exposing none of the eagerness that stirred in her heart, she added "Leads on me?"


"I’m afraid not, honey. But there’s something oughtta cheer your spirits!" She cleared her throat loudly. "‘Portland take-out chains report over 30 total delivery boys gone missing in two months.’ Never the same place twice, customers always say the delivery guy never came.


"Armed guard?"


"They’ve tried it! Delivery always goes off without a hitch! Well, nobody has the funds to do that for all the delivery guys, and as soon as they stop they start going missing again!"


"... Fine." She wasn’t going to give this one up. Tamara could tell. "Road trip." She stood up. "... Good talking, Blue."


"Happy hunting, sugar."


Tamara hung up the phone. 'Sugar'. Blue was well aware that was bothersome, she knew. She set to task making whatever preparations for a cross-country road trip she could think of, which was none, waved a dismissive hand at the mess of papers and locked up. Road trip. Shit.


***

Collateral Damage and You, today
​

Kyle lay cradling his own arms, sleeping with the peace of an infant. Occasionally, he giggled, or snorted.


"I don't get how he can just do that." Victoria proclaimed over the brash buzz of her sustained optic blast.


""y-o-u-n-e-v-e-r-j-u-s-t-z-o-n-e-o-u-t-b-e-f-o-r-e?"" Ioana replied, wearing grooves into the nearby dirt.


"Well, I guess..." She came to the end of the designated firing area and started on the next layer for safety. "But I don't just fall asleep. Especially not during class. And especially not this class." She gestured, making certain not to glance.


About a hundred meters away, Chris set down the three dream-construct 'victims' he was carrying out of the burning mock plant building, and began springboarding them into the air for a flock of crows to catch. "Phew! Fly now, Landroval, fly Gwaihir the Windlord! Carry these wayward hobbits to sanctuary in Rivendell!"


Minah, fingertips at her temples, breathed deep, in... and out: "You're a big nerd..."


"Quit distracting me!" Chris chuckled as he lept back into the drill building.


"You first."


Nearby, Aaron exited the lead-lined 'reactor room' positively festooned with nearly a dozen 'bystanders', flopping them into the safe zone with the Urial and the rest of the First Aid class. "I'm sure I don't need to remind you professor, but make sure everyone follows proper sanitation procedures; it is highly probable that our reactor leak has left residual contamination on Kyle's dream constructs."


Adjusting his respirator mask, he turns and slips back in through the vault door, swinging it shut behind him. Opening the inner door, he is greeted by a wave of high intensity radiation, causing his clothing to smolder and the respirator to soften and smell funny.


He nods hello to Penny, and gestures toward the massive fuel pile in the middle of the room. "So, Ms. Urbain, let's see if your studies have paid off. You've had a few minutes to examine the problem; what is wrong with the pile, and how do we fix it before it melts?"


Penny stared daggers at Aaron, unconsciously amplfying the radiation in the room by several thousand roentgens per second. Torn between annoyance that she was suddenly expected to do something now and a desire to show off for the one teacher she couldn't seem to hurt or even annoy, she decided to play along. For the moment. Just to alleviate the boredom.


"The hotspot it over here on the far side. Three of the fuel rods have warped and are too close together and the carbon rods between them have degraded. Without coolant, they're basically burning like charcoal briquets."


"Very good, Penny. So what do we do about that, in the absence of spare carbon rods, and an indeterminate wait for more coolant?"


A flicker of a half a dozen different acidic responses sprang to mind, but she bit them back, albeit with difficulty. "Pinch off the casing for the fuel rods, here, here, and here and remove them. Hand them off to me, and I'll take them to the far side of the room. That should bring the pile to subcritical levels and shut down the reaction."


"You're a natural born engineer, Penny. Let's get started!"


Chris delivered another batch of dream people. "I think that's all of them. Minah?"


"Hold on..." Minah frowned for a second as a crow landed on her shoulder and grunted several times. "There's two left under the stairwell in the third floor!"


Chris assessed the building's integrity. "Shit." He dove through the doorway with no time to spare before it collapsed. "Shit." He looked about in the smoke, finding the stairs. Readying himself, he took two leaping steps up the stairs and grabbed the second floor railing. He hoisted himself up on top of it, jumped to the third floor railing, and hopped over that.


"Alright, under the stairs... gotcha." He grabbed on to two constructs. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to make reassurances, so he did. "You're gonna be okay! Situation is totally under control!" The building began to creak.


He kicked the window out and looked out for an escape route. "Hey guys!" The ceiling collapsed.


Ioana and Victoria had finished early. They looked up at Chris's signal and saw the top floor start to fall. Ioana ran full speed to Victoria, opening her visor as she passed. Then she ran over to the building, and up the side. Victoria's blast had cleared a lot of the debris that posed an imminent threat to Chris and his charges, but a collapsing building being a well known chaotic environment, they weren't anything close to safe. Ioana ran circles around Chris, unable to move him for fear of breaking him, but perfectly able to redirect chunks of lumber in danger of doing so in her place.


Chris, as the ceiling exploded and a whirlwind made of his classmate appeared around him, pulled his rescuees close and did his best to surf downwards thirty feet or more on a plywood floor. Dust flew as far as anyone could see as it came to the ground.


Penny chucked the last of the fuel rod casings on to the stack with a tremendous boom. She and Aaron both looked at it in confusion.


"Iiii would imagine that was the sound of the demo building collapsing. Nothing to worry about!" he turned back to the fuel rods. "How is this looking?"


Penny inspected it for a few moments. "I think... We're good. I'm the only source of deadly radiation now." She laced her fingers behind her head.


Aaron turned to her and put his hand lightly on her shoulder. "Hey. Well done."


They exited the building, Penny in a heavy HAZMAT suit, Aaron doffing his respirator. A gargantuan pile of scrap lumber greeted them. Minah turned to look at Aaron.


"Hello again, class!" He shouted. "What did I miss?"


Chris clambored out of the wreckage, shaky, Ioana in his arms. "S'up?"


Ioana felt around Chris's shoulders. "Hel... Help."


Chris slid down the pile of rubble, meeting Aaron, who took Ioana and effortlessly brought her to the gathering of First Aid students. "Hello there Tabitha, Viola, Manami." He carefully laid Ioana down on a cot. "Checking for broken bones or sprains should be prioritized over-"


The blindness and deafness, of course. Her dossier makes the symptoms of prolonged running quite clear, but thank you Mister Mallory. Urial woofed appreciatively. We'll keep a good eye on her until her senses return.


Aaron turned around to address the remainder of his class. "The rest of you, excellent work! All civilians accounted for I presume?"


"Yessir!" Minah reported. Chris flexed.


"Excellent, excellent work. Class is dismissed. Be prepared for next session; we'll be taking our first step out of the simple exercises."


***

Portland, Oregon, a few days ago
​

Everything you could possibly want. To be served, to be waited on. To be a king. What does it do to you? What is it like?


For him, it’s like 9:30 in the morning, in a white room, beige carpet, white lace curtains, white bedsheets on a sleep-number bed. It’s like Eggs Benedict and orange juice on a tray. "Thank you, Adam. You can go back to the pen now."


"Serve... back to... pen..." ‘Adam’ hobbled back out through the white panel bedroom door, shutting it behind him.


He picked up his knife and fork, began to saw through the egg and muffin. The knife was sharp, sharp enough to keep the meal from bending or leaking down into the point of incision.


He brought a bite to his mouth, another, before he had finished. Another.


The phone rang, once, and picked up. "Morning. You have a little delivery."


"Is it him?"


"It’s him. Isn’t that what I promised?"


He nodded. "Very good. Mm. Very good." He took a sip of his orange juice. "When will it be here?"


"About an hour."


"I’ll be ready to sign for it then."


"Right. Good." The phone hung up. He stretched. He finished his breakfast, ponderously. He brushed aside the covers, flinging the tray, silverware, glass and dish to the carpeted floor. He swung himself around to the other side of the bed, and stood up into a stretch. He was perfectly naked.


"Wesley, come here. Erik, come here."


Two of his servants wobbled in and stood at attention.


"Wesley, dress me. Erik, clean up that mess."


Wesley made his way over to the ornate, solid darkwood wardrobe. He pulled out black slacks, suspenders, white briefs, a white ruffled shirt, stocking socks. Lastly, he retrieved a black suitcoat, tail-complete, from the closet. He did as commanded, only occasionally needing guidance on the correct order. "Serve... Dress..." He chanted.


He exited the building and strolled to the corner at exactly 10:30. "Tick tock..." he muttered.


Before long, a shipping drone the size of a small car landed on a designated zone, depositing a large wooden box, mounted on wheels. He signed a fake name in the drone’s signature pad, and it departed. He wheeled the box back to his building. "Rufus, come here! Erik, come here! Matthew, come here! George, come here!" he yelled from the bottom of the stairs. The four made their way down. "Bring this into the safe room."


"Bring this... safe room..."


"Into. Into the safe room."


"Serve... bring this... into... safe room." They concorded. He preceded them up the stairs.


Fifteen minutes later, Matthew’s head lay in a pinkish-red spew halfway up the stairs and the box was in the safe room.


"George, take our guest out of the box and put him in the restraints, like I showed you. Rufus, do what George does. Erik, go clean up Matthew's head from the stairs, and keep the chunks in the blender longer this time."


They ruminated. "Serve..." "Take... guest out... box..." "Serve..." "In... restraints..." "Showed..." "Serve..." "What George does..." "Serve... clean up Matthew... stairs..." "Chunks... blender... longer..." "Serve..." They stirred to action. Their master locked the door on George and Rufus, then stirred to inaction.


After ten minutes, he hauled himself up and checked the situation in the safe room through the peephole. He took the wooden bar from in front of the door and twisted the glass knob open. "Rufus, you may go back to the pen. George, you may go back to the pen."


He shut the door behind them, and admired his prisoner in the leather straps. "Well now." He murmured. "You look to be worse for the streets, mon arme secrète."


His prisoner spat, hissed.


"Sh sh sh sh... Vous êtes tellement fatigué. Vous devez dormir maintenant; de nombreuses grandes tâches nous attendent de vous. Goliaths de tuer. Dors maintenant. Dors."


His prisoner fell silent. He left the room, avoided the latch, barred the door.


He picked up the phone in his bedroom. "Where did you find him?"


"Kamchatka. Can you believe there were even ports out there? Took forever to track him through the tubes."


"It’s not outside the conceivable. Are you still concerned about what will happen to him?"


"Not if I don’t think about it. So long as he does what he’s supposed to do... It has to be done."


"Very good." He nodded. "Very good."


***

Physical Discipline Classroom, today
​

"Alright class!"


"Yep!"


Wolf continued "... Alright!"


"Alright."


"I know you were all expecting Ms. Deschain to be here today-"


"Nah."


"- but our Overlord is, like much of the staff, tied up fighting evil."


"Fighting evil, yep."


She sighed "Mister... Uh, Poltergeist, could you please be quiet?"


"Nope. Being quiet no I, uh, no I can do. Do can I not? Nope."


Wolf attempted to stare him down, stymied by the overall invisibility. "Mist-... Poltergeist..."


"Hey, I'm allergic to quiet. Is true! I have a note from home! I just put it in my pocket this morning." A series of static crackles roughly outlined a human form miming putting its hand down its pants. In a Jimmy Stewart voice, he muttered "Now dagnabbit I know I gots it hea somewheas..."


"Please, just... listen. Poltergeist."


"Yees maym." replied the voice of Eric Cartman. A select few of his classmates tittered, most preferring to groan.


"Alright-"


"Alright!"


"- since Ms. Deschain isn't here today we're gonna be doing something simple. Obstacle course." She gestured to the training grounds, set up with obstacles ranging from hoops to death traps, some stationed high and some low. "All class." The class moaned in unison. "Alright, everybody take two! Do the standard limbering and whatever stretches or warm-ups you gotta do!"


Immediately, Poltergeist erupted into a spherical flurry of static discharge, a crackling blue orb. Isabelle Chase prickled all over with hair. Mitch Castle got a shock.


"Ah! Dick!"


"Haha no that's her dad's name!" Poltergeist's voice affected an overtone of strained electronic squawking in the wake of the miniature electric storm.


"Mi- POLTERGEIST, what the hell are you doing?" Wolf demanded.


"Stretches, Higgins-chan, stretches." The pale blue sphere flickered into the shape of a dramatic ballet pose. "Am I doing them wrong?"


"Yes. Yes you are."


"Hey, a child is a beautiful flower, man. Gotta let me GROW! Y'know? Quit oppressing my fridums!"


"Your freedoms." Wolf repeated, disgusted.


"My fridums."


"Fine." She threw her hands in the air. "Practice your freedoms."


"Fridums!"


When the stretching period had ended, Wolf began the session. "Alright, take your place on the dotted line!" Poltergeist donned his specialized running soles and stood next to Wolf in a line of six students. "Go!" She yelled. Five students took off running. Wolf glared at the remaining one.


"Yeah, I just ran this course like, twelve times, you, uh, you didn't see?"


"Running all class, mister. Gotcha in a corner." She flicked her chin up a bit.


"Hahaha! Ha! 'Corner' my intangible and massless ass. Watchis." A blue blur appeared in a loop through the obstacle course, accompanied by the sound of thousands upon thousands of sandaled footsteps, slowly intensifying. Slowly, but steadily, a crackly blue image of a human figure appeared in front of Wolf. "Isn't this cool?" It buzzed. "I'm stopping, like, once every ten laps to just stand here for a sec and admire your fine image, chica." He made finger pistols and clicking noises.


"Poltergeist, can you please ju- OH MY GOD. OH GODDAMMIT. Why are you not wearing... ANY clothes!?" Wolf turned away and covered her eyes.


"Wh- I got nothin to put clothes on, yo! No mas mass." He shook his pelvis from side to side. "I feel so frih in mah fridums!"


Mary Ross took a second while running to peek at the scene, until Isabelle pulled her sweatband down over her eyes, hissing "Don't look at that! Jeez!"


"WILL YOU PLEASE, just stop running the course!" Wolf shouted.


"Can do, boss." His sandals went flying into the wall, leaving permanent dents. His afterimage quickly disappeared from the room. "So whaddaya want me to do?"


Wolf groaned. "I don't know, just take the day off. Go somewhere else."


"Can you grab me my feet? Just can’t leave without em, aHAH!" he slapped his knee.


"... Fine." Wolf stretched her arm over to where his sandals landed and retrieved them.


"Ooh! What else can you do with them arms?" Poltergeist crooned


"Fail you if you don't go to the office right now." She began to fetch her clipboard.


"Oh nooo! The powwwerr of spiiiite comPELLLSSS MEEEEE!" He moaned, moving slowly to the door. "Love you, mwah, 8:00 dinner? Okay baiiiiiii."


At this point, the rest of the class began to get back to the start of the obstacle course. Cecilia rested for a moment, next to Wolf, panting. "Was- Was he hitting- on you??"


"Not sure." she responded, through gritted teeth. "But I'm told he did mostly the same thing in How Not to Kill."


***

Portland, Oregon, a few days ago
​

"Don't know what to tell you, miss. Everything I could say I already told the police."


"Walk me through what happens."


"Well..." the proprieter chewed his cheek, felt his chin. "We'll get a call, order, address, you know... Deliver'r will come and pick up a stack of pizzas and they won't come back, won't answer calls-"


"You call the houses?"


"... Well, some days. We call and ask after them, they've all seen the guy. Usually we leave that kinda investigation to the boys in blue though."


"Why do you say they won't answer calls?"


"What? We call them. Personally." He hesitated. "Y'know, on a cell phone?"


"... Right, right of course." Shit. Thought Tamara. Cell phones. How long have I been living in the 2040s and still I forget cell phones are a big thing now? Stupid. "So, can't you track the car? Using the cell phone?"


"Nah, it's the weirdest thing. Even if we try to access the GPS feature... sometimes it doesn't show anything, sometimes it says the car is somewhere ridiculous, like Philly."


"Philidelphia? Why Philidelphia?"


"Well, it isn't always there. Just somewhere that doesn't make sense, that's all. Montreal, Italy, Russia, Baltimore..."


"Baltimore?"


"Yeah, yeah, know what you're thinkin'. Could be some kinda terrorist ploy, Knights of Raguel and all that." He shrugged. "Hell, I don't have any better theories."


Hypotheses. Tamara thought. She decided to nod instead of saying so. "What about the car? Can't you take video?"


"Same deal." He shook his head. "Sometimes video's cut, sometimes it's something like..." He ran his tongue over his teeth. "Night of the Living Dead. George Romero fil-"


"I know it. Any particular significance you might know? Some... enemy, who might think that means something to someone?"


"Miss, this is a pizza parlor." he gestured around. "Who's our enemy, the cat-lady on Brazee Street?"


"Brazee Street? Why Brazee?"


"Well I don't know, maybe she likes to take the cats for a walk in Grant Park..."


"I mean, why do you say Brazee Street specifically?"


"It's just that there's a regular of ours that's a cat-hoarder and lives on Brazee, miss. I'm not trying to drop you a bunch of psychoactive clues or anything." He sucked his lips. "I don't know all the answers, you know?"


Sure you don't... Tamara eyed him suspiciously. "So, lemme run through this again." she walked over to the parlor's phone, picked up. "You get a call." she grabbed a pad of paper and wrote down 'medium olive rosemary anchovy whatever, $10000, 111 Brazee St.' She hung up the phone and plopped the order on an empty pizza box. She flung it onto the pickup counter. "Then..." she walked over to the door and back. "... the delivery gal picks it up." She checked the order on the box. Good lord, this era is already messing with my handwriting. She turned to walk back to the door.


"Well, hang on, miss..." The proprieter interjected. "We haven't put the order on the pizza in some, well, five years maybe?"


She stared askance at him. "How the hell d'they know where to take the order?"


"Well..." he smirked. "Cell phones. See here..." He picked up the phone, wrote down an order and a big '1' in a circle. He hung up. "So this-" He waved the order note. "-goes to the chefs. Meanwhile..." He picked up a pizza box, marked a few bubbles on the front, and wrote '1' on the lid in sharpie. He set it down on the kitchen counter. "This box waits for order one." he picked up another box, and another. "This one goes to order two, order three, so on so on. Delivery guy takes five orders at a time..." he pulled out his cellphone, opened an app, began to type. "and, to get to the point..."


He pressed a button with a little speech icon. A woman's voice read out "Order one: Turn right onto NE Stanton Street." he beamed.


"This is the 'Street Waiter' app. It's policy now in probably half the country's delivery joints." he gestured modestly with his phone. "Don't really know why, I guess." he picked up the order paper. "Although some of us think it's these."


"Those?" Tamara raised an eyebrow.


"Green reasons." He exaggeratedly dropped it in a big blue recycling bin. "Although some say the app makes the delivery faster and safer. I don't know about that."


It may well be less safe... Tamara pursed her lips. "Thanks." She left, stopping at the edge of the parking lot to light a cigarette and toss the pizza box in a municipal trash. Fuck the environment. She made her way to her car, a retro Chevrolet, looking on the outside rather like an old Belvedere but with all the internal features of a 2040's driver assistance car. She had long since manually disabled the driver assistance features. She got in the driver's seat and for ten minutes tried to figure out how to turn on the dashboard cell phone... thing. Eventually she managed to call the last restaurant she had visited, an italian-style place. "Perry? It's Ms. Honkanen, from Themis Investigations. Do you happen to use the 'Street Waiter' app?"


***

Somewhere under Norfolk, today
​

Praxidike ran. Hallway, turn, hallway, turn, hallway. Nothing. Hallway, turn, hallway, turn, hallway. Nothing. She was pretty sure she was going in circles. "Shit..." She stopped to think... but it was too hard to think. Something heavy in the air. So she ran. Hallway, turn, hallway, turn, hallway. Nothing.


　


Red breathed deep, his hands shaking. Feeling prepared, he motioned to the mirror wall, once again. It did not respond at all. He punched it. He yelled "Bullshit! Supervillain! Asshole! Priest! Fucking! Nazi! Cum!" or something indistinguishable from that. "MMMIRRORS! MMMETAL! GET IT THROUGH YOUR FUCKIN’ HEAD!" he explained, seemingly berating the wall.


　


Nike proceeded through the maze with mirrors for walls, left hand on one side. She felt the edge of a wall, peered around it. Two automata marched abreast towards her. She turned and pressed herself flat against the wall. As they passed, she swung across their chests with her spirit sword. Nothing happened. It was missing from her hands. This hit her like a blow to the... to the soul. She was sure it was there. She felt it. The automata fast approached.


　


Swan inspected the stretch ahead of them. Where once there was the faint light of a door, now was only darkness. "We haven’t been moved." He said. "We haven’t been moved. I know that much. We’d know if we’d been moved. I don’t care how good this guy is. If that door’s gone-" he pointed to where the door was "- it’s gone because he moved a wall in front of it. Which means it’s still there, provided we can break through the wall." He grinned. "Let’s go." The two of them moved back to back to the end of the hallway, after what seemed like an hour. A door-sized grid of colored LEDs stood installed on the concrete wall that greeted them. "God... Dammit." Swan breathed.


　


Riley kept her head down for the longest time. She became very familiar with the gait and shape of Praxi’s legs. At some point, the group stopped. "What’s wrong?" she asked. She looked up. The legs didn’t stop. They extended upwards into the dark infinity of the ceiling. All four pairs. She seemed to be trapped in a towering cage of fake legs. "What the actual..." she frowned. She attempted to pry a pair open, but they seemed to be made of some metal or concrete. "Alright then." She cracked her neck. "Time to get lit." She flexed to exude a nasty cocktail of stimulants, getting simply coated with drugs. "Wait." she mumbled. "This isn’t what I order’d..." her eyelids fell very heavy. "Thes’s chlrfrm..."


　


Asher, having slipped the hoop to find his teammate and fellow celebrity, became utterly and completely lost. He turned around. Twice. Not only was there no one nearby, this seemed to be a completely unrecognizable area, despite being nearly identical to the one he was just in... He played a few riffs on his guitar, which echoed. He tried to sonically smash the mirrors. He failed. Confused, he tried harder. Something occurred to him, very distantly. He took off his shirt and held it over his face. He sat on his amp and thought... and something struck a wrong chord. He bit down on his shirt and breathed through his mouth. He wasn’t quite sure why.


Except he was: he needed his hands free to play a few more riffs. ‘Enter Sandman’ he decided. He played it quietly, then louder, louder and louder. He listened. Something was wrong. He strummed as loudly as he could. His amp was vibrating wrong. He knew the vibration for that sound and that was not it. "Fhfhfhf..." he chucked. He took the shirt from his mouth. "You’re quite good, magnificently good even, but it would seem that you aren’t quite as thoroughly... well, good as you might have hoped!" He strummed a few more times, keeping the volume steady. He stood up and wandered around, occasionally jumping back and forth.


"Right, if I am not incorrect... Ah!" he pointed up into a dark upper corner of the hallway. "Our mastermind appears!" he dragged his amp right underneath it. He adjusted his guitar strap to the longest it would go, and unhooked it. "Alright..." he lept upward, swinging the strap with one end in one hand and the butt of his guitar in the other (he had since dropped his shirt). It hooked over something jutting out from the wall. "Geronimo! Now, let’s just see if all that time in the gymnasium can prove fruitful." He hoisted himself up and rehooked the guitar strap, forming a sling. "Excellent, perfectly executed!" He pulled a small flashlight out of his breast pocket, which only now did it occur to him he had, and shined it on what he already knew to be a speaker. He stuck the flashlight in his mouth and threateningly twirled his guitar jack. "Leb’sh shee mwhad yeh maig ob..."


　


"What do you mean you can’t move the wall?" Swan growled.


"I mean just that, boss. Wall won’t move. I don’t know... Wait."


"What?"


"This fog... Remember what Zdunowski was sayin’?" she paused. "It’s not dry ice. It’s that power-suppressant stuff."


"What? How..." Jason thought for a second. "How the hell did you transform the turret parts? Or make that weapon?"


She held up her empty hands "I don't think I ever did. It could have been a hologram... or somethin’." Eve shrugged. "You know the kindsa things this guy does."


"Shit." Jason tipped his head back. "Shit!"


The room was taken by a burst of intercom feedback. After a few tuning twangs, an electric guitar played an unfamiliar but very particular tune.


"What is that? 20’s punk?"


"No..." Eve realized. "Nah... I know that riff. That... That’s from a jam session with Asher, ‘bout a month ago."


"It’s a trick." Swan decided. "He’s fuckin’ with us somehow."


"There’s no way. We never recorded."


The tune stopped. Then the music started again, this time playing ‘I Need a Hero’.


Asher racked his brain for lyrical communication. He began to play ‘Air’ from Hair.


He did his best to imitate ‘Gas Mask’ by Skare, with just his instrument and no powers. It wasn’t all he had hoped. Drawing a blank on more helpful information, he shrugged and played the ‘The More You Know’ jingle.


　


"There’s somethin’ else about this mist..." Eve said. She pushed her pouch into her mechanical nose and mouth, breathed deeper. Jason did the same, using his jacket.


Several minutes passed. "Is something supposed to be happening?" Swan asked, muffled.


"I-..." Eve thought for a second. "I think... I feel clearer." She nodded. "I’m thinking clearly." she produced a flashlight from her pouch. "We all had one a’ these, right?"


"Yeah, of course." Jason grabbed his from his coat pocket. "Always useful in case we’re going somewhere... dark. The fuck?" They turned on their flashlights. The rooms walls adopted a definite location, where once they were a vague sense of enclosure in the distant darkness. "It was this gas. It was messing with our heads. Jesus!" Jason shook his head in frustration.


"Drugs are bad, kids." Eve cracked. She pointed her flashlight to the far edge of the right wall. "There’s an opening. See it?"


The ‘maze’, it turned out, had hardly any turns or forks to speak of. Before long, they came to a fork of a sort; one opening corridor going straight, another a sharp right turn. Praxidike ran towards them from the right.


"Kokinos!" Jason yelled. She brushed past them, turning to her right and running on. "Goddamn-..." he began to run after her.


"Wait!" Eve grabbed him. "Wait a sec. I got a feelin..." Jason glared at her, but did as she suggested.


Within a matter of seconds, Praxi came back down the right corridor. Jason and Eve caught and restrained her this time, at which point she seemed to snap out of her stupor.


The three of them found Riley, passed out in the middle of the floor. Failing to awaken her, Jason picked her up and carried her over his shoulder.


Asher ran right into them at high speeds. "Hello fellow crimefighters, you’ve taken my messages with great clarity I see, well done, very well done!"


"That was a hell of a shot in the dark, Torch." Eve clapped him on the shoulder.


"Not at all, I knew exactly what to do and what was going on when it at last occured to me that-"


"Asher. Shut up." Jason held out a hand. There were sounds of screams, both masculine and feminine.


They ran towards the closer of the two sources of sound, which turned out to be Nike, threatened by nothing more than two mannequins on strings. Jason pulled them down.


They found Red a few minutes later, leaning against the wall of broken mirror, occasionally barking obscenities.


"Ward!" Jason shouted. Red looked up at them, then sprang to his feet and ran at them with clenched fists, attacking. Jason ducked his blow and slammed his legs with his hip, knocking him over. Red growled like an animal on the ground, lashing out in all directions. With much difficulty, the five conscious heroes restrained him and covered his face, waiting until the effects of the mist had worn off.


"Couldn’t have taken me if I’d been sober..." He muttered from behind his coat.


"Now what?" Nike asked.


"Seems we’ve explored everything that way." Audio pointed the way they had come. Then he pointed down the corridor. "This way’s the only hiding place left here."


They took a similar tactic in keeping from getting separated, this time with clear heads. Not much remained of the twisting hall, and soon they found a dead end.


"Another empty lair." groaned Nike.


"Bullshit. Absolute bullshit." Audio proclaimed. "Red, Eve?"


"Yep." Eve went to the wall with her metal arms and began to punch it, shattering the mirror, until a small keypad flickered on in an unassuming spot. She punched that too, penetrating about a foot deep by the time the wall began to rise, revealing what they’d been looking for.


Morgan sat on a cushioned table stationed against the left wall of the room, his leg chained to the side. Laboratory equipment, including large canisters of liquid power supressant, stood in the center of the room, to the right of which Avecca, chained to an identical table, sat pouting as near to the instruments as the chain would reach.


"He’s gone." Morgan said, dejected. "He ran out that way about five minutes ago." He pointed to where they came from. "He said to point out that stick on the table there."


While Eve freed Morgan, Nike Avecca, and Asher disabled the gassers, Jason investigated the ‘stick’ to which Morgan referred. It was about a foot long, black, save for an inch of white at either tip. He picked it up, cautiously, and it suddenly unwound into a long sheet of paper.


I won’t bother to address you, ‘Mister Swan’, but rather the five of you. You know who you are. Although, at the moment... I think you’re likely out.


Regardless. Don’t you see? I’ve found it. I’ve found her. They are her. They hold the key. She can tell me all I need to know and more. No, no, not Zayn, nothing so menial, but rather...


The Mistress.


You don’t know what I’m talking about, of course, but you do. I hope you do. If not, it’s hardly my fault. I’m not even supposed to be run by this one, this... child. I’m not quite myself.


He seems to have ruined everything. Despite concocting this plan, he’s buggered the whole premise just by executing it himself. And not well executed, either.


Anyway, ta-ta. I must return to the mind of my creators. Hope to see you all again soon.


Jason crumpled the note in one hand. "Goddamn maniac."


***

Baltimore
​

Derrick finished up the last of his leads, on his rather nebulous investigation into... something. He wiped his boots on the welcome mat outside and got back into his car, which was now missing most of the windows it was supposed to have. He drove, not to anywhere in particular. His thoughts drove him, he supposed, to Facility 108. He chuckled as he realized where he was going. "Mother, no! What would I even do there? Shut up! SHUT UP!" He joked to himself.


He pulled into the parking lot, and stopped in at the front desk. "Hey," he said, "is Hunter Ward here?"


Page looked him up and down. "I'm sorry sir, but 'e's wrapped up elsewhere at tis time... Is tere a message ye'd like me to pass on to 'im?" She glanced at the two letterboxes under her desk, which were labeled 'death threats' and 'other'.


"No." Derrick shrugged and turned to leave. "Thanks though, Mister Farrell."


"Ye're wel- What!?"


Once outside, Derrick walked to the east wall, facing the training grounds and the ocean, but providing a clear view of neither. He stared out at the late afternoon sun, which was depressingly close to the horizon in this season. He drummed his fingers.


"Melancholy, Ghost Rider?"


Derrick turned to see Anneliese step out from behind one of the facility's external buildings. "Nah." he said "I'm just stopping by Baltimore, figured I'd see all the awful and depressing sights before I saw all the cheerful and boring historic ones!"


"Fair enough." She offered him a cigarette. He took it and rubbed it into a tobacco-brown smear on his mask.


"Mmm, just like mom used to make!"


"Heh!" she lit one for herself.


"So you're what? The janitor?"


"What makes you think that?" She asked, from the left side of her mouth.


"I don't know, something about... the right mix of prying into a stranger's business and smoking in the parking lot?" he cocked his head to the side.


"Ah. Very astute." She puffed. "Yeah, I'm just about the best damn janitor this city has to offer."


"You've done your country a great service, noble soldier." Derrick saluted her. She returned a very casual interpretation of a salute.


"And you? Crime fighter? No up-to-date blue card, unapproved methods, criminal connections, dark past, and..." she looked at him hard. "Shot in the dark to be honest, but you fought with a sidekick today?"


"Yeah, that's not impressive in a world with confirmed psychics, Xavier." he took a posture suggesting attitude. "'You don't know me!'"


She giggled and turned to look at the ocean, or at least towards it. They were silent for a moment. Then she said "Point of fact, neither do you."


He looked at her in irritation. "And what's that supposed to mean?"


"You know what I mean. You think it in different words almost every day."


He glared at her, considered smashing her head against the concrete, but instead turned to leave.


Anneliese touched his arm as he departed and gave him a card with a phone number scrawled on it. "If you ever want to try and find out, I might be a better source of answers than your next kill." He looked at the card, then stalked off. Anneliese tossed her cigarette out, and went back inside through the main entrance.


"So did ye really get 'im to go away, or do I get to set 'im on fire after all?" Page inquired.


***

Portland, Oregon, two days ago
​

"Left... and parry, thrust-" Thom's chest was penetrated by a rapier. He didn't even look down at it.


"Serve... left?"


His master sighed. "Honestly, I might as well practice by myself." He yanked his weapon out of Thom's chest, checking it for grime. It was mostly clean. In any case, he wiped it off on a cloth at his side. "Ah well. Again."


The doorbell sounded. He turned to look, sighing. "Thom, go back to the pen."


"Serve... Pen..."


Beyond the door there was a boy, probably 17, with curly hair and a thriving community of acne on his face. "Pork lo mein for a..." he checked his phone. "Mister Adams?"


"That's me! Hey, just lemme go get my wallet, and... well I got my hands full at the moment, why don't you come on in and set that down anywhere?" He grinned.


"Yeah sure, I... Well, wait... I think I'll just wait out here. Safer, I guess. You heard about, uh, those abductions, right? You understand."


"Sure thing buddy. I wouldn't mind it at all if you came in to warm up!"


The kid shivered. The cold October wind suddenly overthrew any other thought in his mind, and he stepped into the heat.


"Come on up, I got a wallet fulla tips right over here! It's warmer closer to the heater, too." They walked in close file up the stairs, shepherd and lamb. "Erik! Go close the door."


The delivery boy set the pork lo mein down on one of the many pizza boxes littered on the kitchen table, giving the mess no thought in his rush to the heater.


"Tell me your name."


"Kyle." he said without thinking.


"Kyle, good. Haven't got a Kyle yet."


Kyle ran these words over and over in his head, examining what was wrong with them. He turned his head in time to see a thin steel blade hurtling towards his heart.


　


And then his attacker found himself somewhere else. He wasn't sure where. It was dark... only it wasn't dark. It was black. He was perfectly well illuminated. But he stood on a perfect, reflectionless black floor. He could see no walls, no ceiling, for the ceiling and walls were black. Perfectly pitch black.


"Hello?" he asked. His voiced echoed: "Hello? Hello? Hello? Hello? Hello?"


"Hello." Another voice, a different voice, not an echo, but a legitimate response. "What's your name?"


"Toussaint Leroy. Why should I tell you my name?" He asked, then "What the hell? Hell? Hell? Hell? Hell?"


"Hahaha..." the voice responded. "It's very nice to meet you, Toussaint. Where are you from, Canada?"


"N- Shut up." (up, up, up)


"Louisiana then."


"Yes. Fuck!" (fuck, fuck, fuck)


"Not on your life, millenial." There was a beat, the sound of a sigh. Leroy took a step forward, bumping into something flat at about waist height. "Mind the desk." the spectral voice noted.


"A desk? Where am I, a classroom? Intending to educate me?" (me? me? me?)


"Not exactly." Something stirred in front of him. "Closer to educating myself. Why are you killing these people?"


"They're noth- No. I won't say another damn thing to you." (you, you, you)


"Hahaha, I think you'll find that to be more challenging than you might anticipate." The shape stirred again. "So they're nothing, huh? Meaning you just don't like people that much or you intend to accomplish something more?"


"Much m- How do you do that?" (that, that, that)


"How do you?" she responded. "You managed to get that guy to come in your little murderhouse so easily. What's your deal? Mind control?"


"Hah, how simple would that be..." (be, be, be)


"Of course, you seem to have a pretty firm command on your little underling there, what, Erik? He didn't even have the initiative to stop- uh, you, before you..."


"You're in the stairwell, aren't you?" (you, you, you)


"Ah, what the hell. Yes."


"So as soon as we leave here, I'll know exactly where to send all my servants." (servants, servants, servants)


"Sure, but I can keep you here for about fifty-five more minutes. I have that long to plan my escape."


"So it affects you too. You seem smart enough to think of telling me I could be locked in here forever. But, in here, it's hard not to say everything you think, isn't that it? For both of us?" (us? us? us?)


"Well, aren't you a clever boy. Yes, that's more or less how it works. So what did they do to piss you off so badly?"


"Expel me from their little..." (little, little, little) "Are you intending to save the boy?" (boy? boy? boy?)


"The thought crossed my mind to shoot-... Are you registered in the AEGIS files?"


"All the digital files I had deleted, but there migh-..." (migh-, migh-, migh-) "How long have you had a gun trained on me?" (me, me, me)


"Pretty long while. Where did you originally get tested?"


"Atlant- Window, or door?" (door, door, door)


"Hadn't actually thought about that yet. How capable is Erik there?"


"Strong, not quick. How much do you already know?" (know, know, know)


"How you managed to lure... Well, actually, I was wondering who you had hack the app. I assume it was someone else."


"Clemmon- Who do you work for?" (for? for? for?)


"Self-employed. What do you-" Suddenly, Tamara released Leroy, and with the element of surprise, pulled the trigger on her revolver.


He was in mid-motion, and reflexively threw himself forward to dodge. The bullet hit him across the back, grazing his right side but piercing his left shoulder blade. He screamed, as did Kyle, as the rapier plunged into his heart. "Thom! Kill the intruder! Erik! Stop her! Argh, everyone! Kill her! Kill her!"


Tamara took a step into the room, but Leroy had fallen on the other side of the coffee table and Thom was lumbering towards her with his trademark alarm-worthy mass. She took a potshot at his head, hitting dead center. She whirled around and did the same to Erik, who tumbled down the stairs. She refocused on Leroy, and began to approach the coffee table, when she was tackled from the side, knocking the wind out of her.


"Serve... Kill." Moaned Thom, as he kneeled on her chest and prepared to hammer her head into the floor. She ducked her head aside and shot him in the bicep, which gave way, causing him to fall over as his weight carried into the blow. She whipped her arm around to shoot Leroy under the table, but he and Kyle had vanished. She sat up. Kyle spastically crawled across the tabletop towards her, clawing at her.


"Kill her! ... Kill her!" He rasped. He flung himself at her, and she dodged, not realizing that the second story window was between her and where she intended to dodge to. It shattered as she hit it. She managed to slow herself down by pressing her hands against the outer wall, but not by much. A cracking sound accompanied the thud of her feet hitting concrete, and she began to limp back to her car, grinding her teeth together hard enough to take a finger off.


Upstairs, Leroy had scrambled to the phone, simply picking it up. "Dammit, stop her calls! Call me a driver!"


"On it!"


He dropped the phone off the line and ran to the safe room. "WESLEY! Bring me the glass razor!" He flung the wood board off the door and threw it open. Once inside, he began to undo the leather neck strap on his prisoner, who growled at him. "Shut up." His words seemed to be like a slap to his captive, but he resumed growling after some careful consideration. Wesley entered with a knife made of black glass, obsidian maybe, lethally sharp even if not. Unhesitatingly, Leroy took it and slit his prisoner's throat.


"Serve me..." He whispered into the dying boy's ear, just before he went limp. A second later, he stood up again. His face had taken the quality of a lobotomy patient, and he did not struggle against his murderer as his straps were hastily undone.


Tamara, meanwhile, had just started her car when Kyle fell out of the window after her, head first. His arms both broke and his head dented inwards. She stared at him, dumbfounded, in the rearview mirror. Then he stood up. A passerby screamed.


"Kill her!" His arm from the shoulder pointed at her, but past the elbow it hung limp and crooked. His index finger extended towards the ground.


"Shit!" she yelled, pulling into traffic and pressing the button to start a call. Her car played a dial tone, and then an audio clip of what she recognized to be the alien muppets from the original Sesame Street. 'Noooope nope nope nope nope nope nope' they repeated. She punched the dashboard. "Shit!" Kyle began to run after her, but wound up bouncing around like a ragdoll in the early evening traffic.


A few moments later, Leroy and his newest recruit ran down the stairs to be greeted by an Uber driver. He told them to ignore the traffic, to hop in. Leroy told his subservient to kill him. Then he ran back up into the apartment and gave all his servants very specific instructions. When he came back to the car, he hauled the corpse of the driver into the backseat and took the wheel. "I need a hospital. Where do you recommend?"


The driver's phone bleeped. "Sending maps a hospital address lacking in background checks. Fuck, did you get hit?"


"Yes!" He pulled out and drove off. "And miss 'concerned citizen' knows a very dangerous bit about us. We need to move to the next phase, NOW."


"Alright, I'll hurry the arrangements. See you soon." The phone flicked from call to maps.


In the street nearby, Kyle's remains, hardly more than a head and shoulders, attempted to drag itself down the road after Tamara's car, mouthing the last words he heard in life.


***

Atlanta, Georgia, today
​

Tamara briefly stopped in a total of twelve diners and restaurants to call someone, but every line was cut off. Specifically for her. She didn't bother more than once to ask someone else to make a call on her behalf.


At some point, she decided to stop at a police station to report Kyle's murder (of course, she had photographic evidence), but when she walked in, an officer immediately approached her with a gait that said 'about to question you' and she left as quickly as possible. She assumed the phone hacker had reported her to them just before she arrived.


So, after a while, she decided to just drive straight to Atlanta. Next stop was Atlantic City. She made it in just under two days, driving recklessly and not sleeping. She pulled into the parking lane along one less busy street and thrust a paper city map into the hands of a pedestrian. "How do I get to the Commonwealth test facility?"


She did this a total of three times before someone gave her a helpful answer, then, she sped off. It didn't take her too much time to find it, or effort to sneak in (only one unlucky woman lost a lab coat). What did take a long time was finding the filing cabinets, but after a while she convincingly asked a security guard 'Um, I forgot where... the paper files on A6G23 tests are? Do you... Ah, sorry, do you know where those are?'


Turns out they were in the basement. Almost all of them. Tamara really missed the eighties.


After about an hour of searching, she found the file on Leroy, T. She speed-read it.


"Shit."


***

Salt Lake City
​

Felix got off his flight at 2:00 PM, checked his baggage and waited on the benches outside, hands shaking. Leroy's car pulled in about ten minutes later. "Nice to finally meet you in person, Mister Clemmonds."


"Haha, yeah, nice to..." He got in the car, gestured. Leroy's new phone showed their destination on maps. He drove off.


"Are you certain of everything? Everything?"


"Certain. Absolutely." Felix nodded. "... Everything." They drove outside the city into a modest complex, hardly more than a building with a gate, with two klaxons running on either side of the door. A guard approached them.


"This building is on full lockdown. For security reasons, I'm going to ha-"


Leroy presented him with fake identification.


"Oh thank god!" The guard sighed. "It's about time you got here sir, we got the red alert about ten minutes ago and we still aren't sure why!"


"My man here is an expert on this sort of thing; we'll be sorted in no time." He gestured to Felix, who paled and waved.


"Well... Glad to hear it, sir. Go right in."


Leroy parked his car inside the gate and entered the small building, within which was a small office space. A man glanced up from behind a desk, and typed a little into his computer. The wall behind him opened into an elevator.


They descended for several minutes, passing several visible floors. Some had cages, some empty, some filled, one was a dark room, some had computer monitors. They reached their destination in a room with a reclining metal chair, armrests, what looked like panels on either side of the head. A few men stood ready to greet them.


"If you're about to babble at me about how capable I am, or how dire the situation is, you can get on this elevator and take it straight back up. I have a simple solution and you're all going to stand back and let someone else resolve the situation. Or would you rather do it yourself and admit you have no idea what's gone wrong?"


The entire room seemed to ponder this, and most decided to stand back. One man in a lab coat actually got on the elevator and rode it upstairs.


"Mister Clemmonds?"


"Whoo... okay." Felix gestured to the control panels and they lit up in perfect obedience. "This is the real thing, isn't it? Holy fuck. This is... This is the Enhancer. Real sketchy-ass Old Commonwealth era stuff... Real Van Sciver tech!"


"Could you show your enthusiasm in a more useful way?"


"Right... Yeah. Hoo-boy..." Felix walked somberly to the metal chair and mounted himself in it. Then, he flicked at the control console, and the machine began to whir. The panels on either side of his head turned ninety degrees towards him, flanking his head. Restraints clamped over his arms and legs. "This is supposed to happen... Yeah." He seemed as if about to speak and suddenly fell silent. Then be began to writhe. He slammed his back into the seat over and over, his eyes rolling back in his head. Then he stopped.


After a moment, Leroy tentatively felt Felix's pulse. As his fingers contacted his neck, Felix inhaled deeply, and suddenly. "Oh God! Oh God! Ohh! Agh! Ahh! Wh- Where am I!?"


"You're here. In the Enhancer."


"No." said Felix. He shook his head. "No no no no nononononono! I'm... I'm not. I'm here! I see it! I see the... see the network!" A drop of blood developed in his left eye and rolled down his cheek. "It's beautiful, Toussaint, it... It's breathtaking. Like... Like a wild deer."


"Don't forget why you are here. Do what mankind has done to wild animals since our dawn." He leaned in close, whispered in Felix's ear. "Make it yours. Take it."


Felix laughed. Gently, at first, but steadily he increased in volume and intensity until he sounded insane. "YES! I-... I-I-I-I-I-I domesticate! I-I took it in my hands, Toussaint, and I held it!" He grinned "It's so small now!"


"Good. Now, I need to borrow North America..."


"Toussaint, my friend... my ENLIGHTENER!" Felix shouted "YOU! May borrow the WORLD!"


"... I can work with that. Transmit... to everything. But leave Baltimore untouched. Can you do that?"


"Easily!" Felix whispered.


　

Everywhere
​

Televisions. Radios. Cell phones. EKG monitors. Tablets, IPads, computers, everything... stopped. Then they started again. "Serve me. Kill." They said.


"Serve me. Kill. Serve me. Kill. Serve me. Kill."


And soon, the world was overtaken with a purpose.

To be continued...
​