What’s the Matter With You: Part 4

By Camospam, editing by Wendy K

The third story in the ‘It’s Matters’ series following the adventures of Outlook

A Non-Canon Whateley Universe Story.

The Void

It was eerily dark as Cameron began to assess his condition. He kept still hoping the pain would ebb quicker. “Owww! That hurt!” he said barely audibly, his contorted body unable to vocalize more than a whisper. Cameron blinked repeatedly as he tried to ascertain what had happened, only to see nothing but blackness. Panicked, Cameron rotated through his different layering of vision which escalated his desperation at still being unable to see.

“Fer crying out loud! Did anybody get the number of that bus?” Ken Tallman bitterly complained. He mostly lay sprawled on-top of Cameron with his face pushed into the ground right beside Cameron, near enough to have heard the boys complaint.

Cameron felt more pain as the crushing weight sitting on him shifted.

“Get off of me!” exclaimed a young sounding voice that then broke into a fit of deep coughing.

“Patty! - Troy! You guys alright?” asked another voice; a boy. He had an accent and sounded a little older than the first.

Grumbled a girl, “I will be once you get your knee outta my ribs.” This was followed by her giving a sigh of relief.

Cameron felt the heap on-top of him being lessened as more bodies extricated themselves and got untangled. Each of the voices moaned in conjunction to the movement Cameron felt. At last Cameron was no longer the low man on the totem pole and breathed easier, although each intake of air burned his throat and lungs making him cough.

Cameron heard Ken cough too, then felt a hand on his shoulder shaking him gently.

Ken asked, “Cameron! How’re you doing bud?”

Cameron was face down, his visor no longer covering his eyes, he turned towards the voice and groaned. He heard a slight gasp come from Ken.

“Your eyes ...!” Ken managed, appalled from seeing blank white eyes instead of the usual golden light being emitted.

“I can’t see,” revealed Cameron. “Where are we?”

“Oh my, it’s the Police!” observed the girl. “Frak!” the older boy commented.

Ken grunted as he stood, stretching to work out some kinks from his back. Once stabilized, he began to scan the surroundings and tried to determine their situation. After taking a deep breath he began a deep rumbling cough.

Cameron tasted the air, it was foul and smelled of old cheese.

“Stay close to the ground, it’s not as bad down low,” instructed the girl.

“Is the air poisonous?” Cameron asked, in as strong a voice he could muster - in the direction the girls voice came from.

“It burns your lungs and you’ll develop a nasty cough, but you’ll live,” replied the older boy. “But we need to keep quiet!” he said, with the accent that Cameron couldn’t place.

Ken finished checking his Special Investigations phone only to determine it was useless. That frustration carried over into his voice, “So we sit down and shut up."

“We don’t wanna attract attention...” hissed the youngest boy, his worry evident in his words and actions.

Cameron heard Ken sit beside him. “No phone coverage, and John isn’t with us,” whispered Ken in a somber voice.

Cameron advised, “Well Ken, Bossman keeps telling us; ‘first get the 5W’s, then make a plan.’ You better take the lead.”

“Alright, I suppose introductions are in order,” stated Ken to the small group that had huddled near. “I am Constable Tallman, this is Seargent Burke, we’re RCMP.”

“How come you’re older - but he has a higher rank?” asked the youngest boy.

Once Cameron stopped laughing he said, “Ken’s the real policeman, they just didn’t know what else to do with me. I’m Cameron, What’s your name?”

“Troy Smithers,” he replied.

The girl added, “ I’m Patrica Conners.”

“Oliver Jones,” chipped in the third youth.

“Do you know where we are?” Ken asked.

“Somebody called it the Inter-Dimensional Void, but I don’t know where that is,” Oliver answered.

Cameron questioned, “How did you get here?”

“My roommate is a Teleporter and he gave me a ride ... I was joking around and stupidly let go partway through,” admitted Oliver.

Troy blurted out, “I was swallowed by a demon and got spat out here!”

Incredibly, Ken took that answer in stride to then direct his question to Patrica, “What about you?”

“I ...” she timidly began.

“She stepped through a portal,” interrupted Troy.

“I manifested as a mutant,” Patrica disclosed. “I tried to use my power and made a portal; it brought me here.”

“You mentioned others; how many are there?” asked Cameron.

“Nine,” supplied Troy. “I’m the youngest.”

“What happened? How did we end up here?” wondered Ken.

Patrica spat, “Tell him!” her annoyance manifested towards Oliver.

“We saw a lot of teleport flashes, so I suggested we try and escape. We jumped in at a flash and when we tried to grab on ... you guys came out,” Oliver stammered out.

The two newest arrivals absorbed that info for a moment before Cameron then put forward, “Who are we hiding from?”

“The wraiths,” informed Troy shakily.

February 26, 2008
Franklins Ranch: ‘Passing Wind’, Southern Alberta.

Lynn let out a deep sigh, and rested her chin on her balled up fists, supported by her elbows sitting on the dinner table.

“Manners! Elbows off the table,” chided her mother Terry, as she set down a delicious smelling pot.

“Cameron’s in trouble!” informed Lynn. “He didn’t show up where he was supposed to.”

Her father Doug asked, “Do you know where he is?”

“No!” Lynn replied, crying dejectedly.

“He’ll show up,” Allan concluded as he leaned forward taking a prolonged sniff of the food, “Smells great Mom!” he complimented enthusiastically.

Terry smiled, then began scooping out the meal.

Talk at the table dealt with the day’s chores, but Lynn remained somber until she announced, “I’ve got to help him!” startling her family with the sudden outburst.

“Take it easy,” comforted Doug, “tell us what you’ve seen in your visions.”

Lynn explained, “Cameron’s friend Leap has been jumping back and forth from Victoria and Prince Rupert. The poor guy’s past exhaustion trying to find Cameron and Ken.”

“You don’t know where Cameron is, so you can’t help find him,” Terry reasoned.

Lynn continued, “That’s not all. There’s a narrow window of opportunity that could bring an end to the Were’s binding. If Cameron was around he could go - it’s now up to me!”

“What needs to happen?” sought Terry.

“I need to get to the Mediwihla,” Lynn pleaded.

Doug lamented regretfully, “I’m sorry Lynn, but I can’t leave right now; its calving season and your Mom isn’t exactly welcome there.”

“I could take her,” volunteered Alan.

“You’ve only been home for a few days!” complained Terry in exasperation.

Alan stated, “It’s okay Mom, I’ll be back - I promise. Besides, I owe it to Cameron,” giving Lynn a wink.

The Void

Cameron had brought from out of the Warehouse his tent, in the process he added a layer to make it airtight and then filled the room with clean air. He’d also provided everyone with fresh water to drink and set out what food he could find from Storage; it was only peanut butter, jam and bread, but his guests were ecstatic over it. Ken and Cameron sat on the bed while the others ate.

“So we were mid transition when we got knocked out of Leap’s teleportation jump,” confirmed Cameron. “What does this place look like?”

“There’s a thick grey fog, I can’t see more than twenty feet. It looks like the sun has set for how much light there is - but it’s not getting darker. The ground is a fine powder - same grey colour as the fog. I haven’t seen any plant life or rocks even.”

“What about our new friends?”

“Oliver looks to be the oldest; fifteen maybe sixteen, he’s wearing a school uniform.”

“Black jacket, crest on the left side that looks like a two headed bird?”

“Yes ... can you see it?”

“No. It’s a Whateley Academy uniform - he said his roommate’s a Teleporter, so he’ll be a mutant. The girl?"

“She’s wearing pink pyjama’s with these bizarre cats with ribbons.”

“Hello Kitty pyjamas!”

“Is that important?”

“Could be, It seems to be favoured by ‘troublemakers’.”

“She’s young, I’m guessing fourteen; brunette, brown eyes. Troy is around ten, he’s in a tee shirt with a transformer logo and blue jeans.”

“Autobot or Decepticon?”

“How can you tell?”

“Does the face have a smile or frown?”

“Smile.”

“Autobot. Good.”

“Do you hear a slurping sound?”

“Is it one of our guests?”

“No, Troy chews with his mouth open, but that’s not what I hear.”

Quietly moving closer to Oliver, Ken asked him, “What is that slurping sound?”

Shocked, Oliver quickly became agitated and started shaking his hands vigorously up and down getting the others attention, then uttered, “Ssshhh!”

Everyone in the tent sat as quiet as can be, amplifying the sucking sound coming from outside.

Silent as a mouse, Ken moved over to the tent flap and peered outside, then quickly withdrew his head back into the tent. He returned to sitting beside Cameron and whispered into his ear.

“There’s an intangible life-form out there, I could only see it because it displaced the grey fog. It was hunched over sucking on a small nub rising up from the ground.” Seeing the pure terror on the three new faces, Ken didn’t make any further sound or move - but kept a hand resting on Cameron’s leg, assuring him that someone was close.

After a long slice of forever the sucking sound stopped. Cameron could hear the three breath again, and in a hushed voice asked, “What was that all about?”

The question hung unanswered, until a silent debate between them was settled and Oliver answered, “A wraith, they feed on teats that stick out of the ground - when they aren’t sucking the life out of us.”

“Vampires?” Ken asked.

“They draw blood, but that only seems to let them pull the life out of you easier,” advised Oliver.

“It feels like you’re gonna die once they're finished,” added a shuttering Patrica.

February 28, 2008
Airport, Montreal Quebec

Ella Oberon looked out over the crowd, she had selected a railing on a platform that allowed her to see the passengers coming in from arrivals. The call she had taken from Mike Williamson, explaining in part what had happened to Cameron - had shaken her.

‘Why did I leave Cameron,’ she berated herself. ‘My father trained me my entire life to be a protector ... and then once I find him - I just let him go off alone.’ The burden of failure tore at the Were’s heart. Ella zoned out deep in recollection of their recent trip together, before she had left to help the Were:

Cameron, Ella and Ben traveled together to Ottawa, following a path that allowed for Ben and Ella to deliver flashlights and black energy balls to the Were villages enroute.

It was during the drive that Ben revealed he was an archivist - a type of librarian for the Weres. This was news which held Cameron’s fascination for many miles - which had Ben recounting stories that Ella grew up with, but Cameron knew nothing about.

It was at one of the Village stops that they had been informed about another small Were community in Arizona which had been probed - the precursor to being attacked. Cameron had formulated a strategy that had them fly-out immediately - in fact, as soon as they had arrived at Ottawa.

“How am I supposed to protect you if I’m not at your side?” countered Ella, as she parked her Jeep in the Ottawa Airport parkade.

“I was with Mike, it’s not like I need a bodyguard - at least not all the time,” Cameron complained.

“The Oberon has a valid concern,” huffed Ben as he picked up his gear. “The Mediwihla would be honoured by your return. You are one of our people, you should go and stay with us. Granny may be an old fuss-bucket but she took a liking to you.”

“What of you L, what do you think I should do?” wondered Cameron giving the option some thought.

Ella returned, “My voice carries no weight, I go where you go.”

“That’s just wrong in so many ways!” refuted Cameron. “What kind of freedom do I bring, if the Were closest to me act like servants?”

“It is the duty of a sword and shield!” countered Ella.

“You are so much more,” Cameron replied. “You know the strategy of fighting and can keep up with a running battle. It is you that must lead the Were,” persevered Cameron.

“But I...,” objected Ella.

Cameron instructed, “Ella, right now the war has two fronts, if we can put up a resistance to the dark - by reclaiming those Were taken in corruption ... that is the place the sword and shield needs to be. By denying the dark its army, we will change the tide to our favour.”

“The people will only follow the Golden Eyed Man.”

“The Were will follow an Oberon, I know I would,” said Ben, “especially if she had a way to defeat the dark ... gifted by the Golden Eyed Man.”

“You are not helping!” chided Ella. At which Ben slung his pack over his shoulder and chuckled. “But what of you?” she further sought.

“I will be drawing their attention. If we can distract the enemy they won’t suspect it’s a combined effort,” counselled Cameron.

Ben offered, “I will go with the Oberon, a bear is always a force to be reckoned with.”

“I welcome a friends support,” smiled Ella.

“Actually Ben, I was really hoping you could do something for me,” Cameron stated.

“Name it?” the curious were-bear responded.

Cameron explained, “I need to know what the Were’s vowed! We seek to break what I believe can be considered a legal contract - we’re going to need an understanding of what both parties said, plus the conditions and circumstances that surrounded the agreement.”

“It will be an honour,” accepted Ben.

Ella nearly jumped out of her skin when a voice behind her said, “Hello Ella.” She was surprised because no-one should be able to sneak up on a Were unawares!

Turning to face her would be assailant, she was met by the visage of an attractive young girl. She had long wavy black hair with vivid green eyes, her slightly upturned nose was wrinkled from the huge smile she wore. Ella was tense - ready to pounce, but wasn’t prepared for the hug that she found herself wrapped into.

“Ummm?” was the best Ella could muster as a response.

The mystery girl said, “Trust Cameron to never introduce us,” still holding Ella tightly.

A look of shock came over the warriors face draining her ferocity replacing it with awe. “The Pantheress!”

“Pul-ease!” came as an objection, and then offered, “Lynn,” along with another squeeze. “I’ve never met an Oberon before.”

Ella tried to make enough space between them so she could drop onto her knee to show due honour.

“Please don’t make a scene!” Lynn cautioned, as she stepped back slightly, then gave a high pitched growl announcing her position. “For my brother,” she provided as an explanation. “We separated to find you, he guessed you’d be outside.”

Ella was puzzled, “You knew I’d be here?”

“Yes, I know it’s hard to grasp - but I’m what our people call a seer - or farsighted,” supplied Lynn.

Ella stuttered, “But ...”

“It’s very cute,” admired Lynn, looking over the young fox. “Cameron said you were pretty. I do wish he ‘was more’ verbal.”

“I wonder at times if he’ll ‘ever stop’ speaking,” snarked Ella.

The two girls stared at each other briefly before breaking out in laughter! They were interrupted by an indignant, “Ahem!!”

Lynn reached over and grabbed her brothers arm, thus presenting his hand to Ella. “Alan Franklin, met Ella Oberon.”

The two Were shook each others hand for an extended period as they just stared admiringly at each other.

Alan was a fine looking young man, he didn’t have the black hair like his sister; rather the sandy coloured hair of his father as well as his father’s blue eyes, but he had strong cheekbones and a similar nose to his mother’s.

Ella had her copper / red hair tied in a stylish pony tail that curled down to her mid back, her face struck in a coquettish smile that only had one corner of her mouth raised up.

“Awkward...,” stated Lynn, which reanimated the two. “When is the flight from Prince George due to arrive?”

“Landed twenty minutes ago,” Alan replied, without taking his eyes off the vixen.

Blushing, Ella pointed to a set of doors, “They’ll come through that gate,” only to notice a group of four standing just outside the doorway attempting to get oriented.

The three Were walked the short distance from Ella’s vantage point over to welcome the newcomers.

Central among the group was a tall wiry man dressed in a flannel shirt, jeans and cowboy boots. He stood head and shoulders above a group of three teens; a boy and two girls.

Lynn was the first to approach and began by hugging the tall stick of a man, who looked down at the head of black hair with his eyes doing a dance of confusion at the friendly assault from a complete stranger.

“Mr. Johnson, I’m Lynn Franklin,” provided Lynn while still hugging the beanpole.

“Lynn?” stumbled Marcus, “Mike said someone would met us at the Airport, but I thought you were in Alberta.”

“Marcus, I’m Lynn’s brother Alan,” inserted Alan. “And this is Ella Oberon,” he provided, after they’d shook hands.

“May I present: Timothy, Rachel and Charlotte.” Mike was then interrupted by a loud, “Hoy!”

Turning to face the outburst, a large barrel chested fellow with his arms wide open approached Marcus and embraced him.

“Roche!” exclaimed Marcus, and wholeheartedly returned the greeting.

Standing just a little behind Roche was a very tall girl, even taller than Marcus, who wore a hoodie that hid most of her face leaving just her mouth and chin visible. She also wore heavy duty gloves.

Roche reached over putting his arm around the girl’s waist and onto her back and drew her forward, “Please to make the acquaintance of R.E.D.”

The Void

The ear splitting screech was enough to make everyone cover their ears and wince in pain.

The tent walls and roof were indented by hands that pressed upon the fabric. The three youth curled into fetal positions and repeatedly wailed, “no,” and fear wracked their faces.

Ken and Cameron stood back to back, Ken had drawn his RCMP issue pistol as he faced the doorway. Cameron had layered his most powerful shields around the tent after the stories they’d been told of being fed upon, but they seemed to provide little protection against the wraiths.

The wispy outline of a wraith passed thru the tent and latched onto Ken’s shoulder. He cried in agony as he tried to hit it with the butt of his gun, to no avail. Ken dropped to his knees as he no longer had the strength to stand.

More of the wisps entered and each targeted one of the tent’s occupants. Over the wraith’s shrieks Cameron heard whimpers from all of his companions. Cameron felt the bite on his neck and then sensed the pull upon him.

~o~O~o~

Cameron panted heavily. He was down on one knee and only remained upright from the support provided by the staff he had manifested during the battle. Cameron’s tent was in tatters. He still was not able to see, so he could only lash out in hopes of making a chance connection upon the foe - and not strike friend.

When the entity began to siphon off Cameron’s life force, Cameron had been able to reverse the tide and drew energy in from the wraith. It was an energy source unlike anything he’d encountered before and left a nasty taste in his mouth. He badly wanted to see what level his battery was at now, since he’d never felt so empowered, but without sight he couldn’t know.

The wraith had dislodged itself and began wailing like nothing he had ever heard before. The other wraiths gave up their feast and began circling Cameron, attempting to punish him for ruining their dinner.

To defend himself Cameron had fashioned a quarter staff out of his energy absorbing material. It had started out dark black, but from the occasional contact it made on an attacking wisp - it now had whirls of milky white intermingled in the black.

Each strike that hit the wraiths resulted in a satisfying wail of anguish from the wisps as their energy was drawn into the staff. The shrieking abated and Cameron no longer felt the jabs and shoves he had been getting pummelled with.

Listening, Cameron could hear the pained breathing of his companions, each was moaning and coughing from the bad air around them since the tent no longer provided a pocket of clean air to breathe.

Digging deep into his memories, Cameron imagined a face mask with filters and brought it out from his Workshop. He put the mask on and breathed thru it, the seal wasn’t great so he adjusted the fitment. He made four more and distributed them, checking the fit for each.

The mask distorted a person’s speech, but he ascertained how everyone was feeling. None of them were much more than just alive, they shivered violently and were clammy to the touch. Cameron couldn’t locate his blankets in the Warehouse, but decided to make ponchos out of the black absorbent instead.

In Storage, Cameron knew there was some steamed white rice, he was able to recall its location and felt for it. He then made some small energy pellets like he had done for Alan at Arkham, but this time he filled them with energy so they were white, and mixed them into the rice.

Cameron apportioned out the food, telling them they would feel better after they ate. They all commented about the crunchy bits, but ate nonetheless. As they ate they heard voices coming from out of the grey gloom. The voices called out the three youth’s names - to which Patrica called back, “Over here!” between mouthfuls.

The five were joined by another six that Oliver, Patty and Troy knew. The grown-ups vigorously chided the three teens for having run-off. They had heard the commotion and came in search of what they had feared were three deaths.

Concord, New Hampshire.

Emit Paulson sat back in his chair watching the case unfold; he had volunteered to act as co- counsel for the state but that was declined. Instead, he sat in the gallery as a spectator watching this court’s proceedings, which had been an entertaining exchange.

New Hampshire Child Services had a good lawyer representing themselves, and Marissa Dawson: Whateley Academies lawyer, was competent at least. Emit was taking notes and sizing up what to expect when his own case came before a judge.

The defence being used was almost formulaic: The defendant: Mrs Carson, claimed that Cameron Burke had brought his woes upon himself; it was his own fault for not bringing his situation to the administration’s attention.

Meanwhile, Child Services had exposed some gapping holes in how Whateley conducted its business. The school’s independently managed and operated sections hadn’t communicated effectively with each other - and that situation allowed someone to drop through the cracks.

That someone was Cameron Burke, and now Mrs. Carson was facing charges of child abuse, in part because the school failed to account for him under her administrative blanket. At issue and under debate was that she herself was to blame for Cameron’s situation.

Mrs. Carson looked sufficiently contrite as the court peeled back layer after layer of mistakes. When damning evidence was revealed, she even wept on occasion. A good act conceded Emit.

Marissa Dawson was tireless in her efforts to construct a chain of evidence intending to build a defence that would exonerate the school and its top administrator. She kept returning to a simple conclusion: What’s wrong with that kid? All he had to do was come to the office. All this could have easily been handled.

Emit could see the strategy behind creating reasonable doubt. The best legal recourse was to turn the blame back onto Cameron Burke for not working along with the school. That basic premise would have prevented any of the issues that had culminated in a legal battle.

Mrs. Dawson was also working the angle that Cameron had problems with authority figures, implying he was a complete dunderhead. She even explored the possibility that he’d come to Whateley to forment discord, and wanted to create trouble for the school, for mutants.

When Marissa Dawson thought she had sown enough dissent she called Mrs. Carson onto the witness stand. It was a brave move, but calculated: presenting to the court a caring, motherly figurehead that all the students adored, a heroine that could do no wrong.

While Mrs. Dawson was finishing up her charade, Emit passed a few notes and a large bound volume up to the lawyers positioned at the table. The note was read with interest, and some furious activity ensued.

When Mrs. Dawson concluded with her witness, it was in haste that the lawyer stood to begin a cross examination. Addressing the witness she asked: “Mrs. Carson, is it correct to conclude that choosing a code name, the moniker used to obscure a true identity is typically done to reflect a persons extraordinary abilities and personality traits?”

Mrs. Carson: “Yes.”

Lawyer: “How about yourself, we understand that you have taken several of these aliases, Miss Champion, and Miss Miracle for instance?”

Mrs. Carson: “The first name I took originated from my association with Champion; we were partners since we shared many similar abilities. When I went solo I took on a name to distinguish myself from Champion.”

Lawyer: “This would have been around the time you found an affinity for the mystic arts, hence the new name Miss Miracle?”

Mrs Carson: “Yes. The changed name better reflected my abilities at the time.”

Lawyer: “Interesting! Now I take it at some point that you married. Was this the reason you decided another name change was required rather than just retaining the name Mrs. or Ms. Miracle?”

Mrs. Carson: “No. My abilities developed beyond what a simple miracle might imply.”

Lawyer: “I see. Your progression into wielding magic required you not ascribe the wonders you performed to mere fluke.”

Mrs. Carson: “Magic only comes about because of commitment to study and practise. It is not miraculous, rather it takes hard work to perform.”

Lawyer: “Thank you for clarifying that. So your current name then?”

Mrs. Carlson: “Lady Astarte.”

Lawyer: “So we are to understand that this is now a current reflection of your abilities and personality?”

Mrs. Carson: “Yes.”

Lawyer: “Mrs. Carson: are you a god?”

Mrs. Carson: “I do not make that claim.”

Lawyer: “But yet you have named yourself after a god.”

Mrs. Carson: “I chose that name because it best depicts my abilities and reflects a powerful figure.”

Lawyer: “Oh dear! I am certain this court would be interested in learning about who you have chosen to emulate.” Picking up and reading from a large encyclopedia she commenced: “Astarte was the goddess of fertility and married to Baal the god of harvests, her priestesses were temple prostitutes and her adherents held orgies in their honour. The images archeologists have found of Astarte rank as some of the most extreme and grotesque types of pornography. Unearthed from under her temples are the human remains from the sacrifices given to her: consisting of children - burned to death, then buried in urns.”

Closing the textbook, the lawyer looked suitably appalled when addressing Mrs. Carson: “Certainly an outstanding figurehead to provide for a school full of impressionable youth.”

End Part 4.