So bury fear, for fate draws near
And hide the signs of pain
With noble acts, the bravest souls
Endure the heart's remains
Discard regret, that in this debt
A better world is made
That children of a newer day might remember
And avoid our fate
(I've waited all day in the pouring rain, but nobody came, no, nobody came)
And in the fury of this darkest hour
We will be your light
You've asked me for my sacrifice
And I am Winter born
Without denying, a faith is come
That I have never known
I hear the angels call my name
And I am Winter born –The Cruxshadows, “Winterborn”
I remember when I first met her. It wasn’t exactly the best of meetings, under the circumstances. Short, with a blonde pixie cut and a figure that argued with her blue eyes - with their yellowish edge on the irises like ice on fire - over which part of her deserved your attention. Her face was round, soft, pretty like the proverbial girl next door. The little firebrand of a woman was a bit hard to ignore, no matter how hard you’d try. God bless her.
“So you’re the new guy they hired for Range Four?” She also thought I was a complete asshole, a point I was in no particular disagreement on. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Shooting the students for hovering too long with rock salt? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
So there I found myself facing off with a woman about my age or a bit older who was glaring bullets at me over my performance a few days before. Carson had unloaded with both barrels for that one, and I could see why. I also figured out right quick I had to do something to get the kids’ attention in the combat and marksmanship classes and make them listen to me. I figured that rock salt was more or less harmless. Apparently I was wrong, even though the kids stopped ignoring me at that point.
“I ah.” I swear I was so eloquent that I could have conned Jesus into preaching Lucifer’s gospel. I couldn’t figure out any good answer to the question. Sure I could have gone off on the spiel about how it was for the kids’ own good and all that bullshit, but I didn’t even buy it except for its expedience as a solution, the easy way of teaching a necessary lesson.
While I stood there outside Range One, where Gunny Bardue was probably finishing his paperwork, with my slack-jawed dopey expression she just glared. “Wait, never mind, I don’t want to know. Look, just stay the hell off my range, and away from my kids, and you and I will get along just fine.” She turned away without letting me get a word in edgewise, and walked back to the Pistol Annex, Range Two. I could hear her boots tapping away along the corridor as she left, while I tried to think of a coherent response.
“Great Erik, at this rate you’ll have the entire staff hating you before the end of the first semester.” No one heard me talking to myself, for which I was thankful. I seemed to have this knack for pissing off everyone around me, or at least getting them to hate me on contact.
Even though I didn’t have a whole lot of options other than to teach at this school for mutant kids, I had to wonder if it wasn’t a mistake to come here. The more I saw, the less I could see a place for people like me.
Whateley Academy, September 27th, 2006
Erik kicked off the wall, did a half-spin to kick off the corner wall, then spun back to catch the ledge above. He pulled his legs up and kicked down, using his lower body strength to launch himself up so he could pull himself over the ledge. He hit the ground above, running for all he was worth as his pursuer simply took the expedient path of leaping the eight feet to land just beyond the ledge, and chasing at a truly terrifying pace.
He didn’t look back. He didn’t have time. One faltered step, one miscalculation, one moment of hesitation and he was a dead man. He covered the ground between himself and the alley at a breakneck pace, fighting to control his breathing as he vaulted over the roof of a Dodge Neon that was parked between him and his objective. His fingers barely touched the car, giving him just enough leverage to clear his whole body as he twisted sideways and hit the deck running again without losing speed.
The loud thump announced that his time had run out as his pursuer jumped twice, once off of the ground, then off the roof of the car. He saw the slightly smaller man fly over his head and land in front of him, absorbing the shock of the jump and beginning to turn. If the man got hold of Erik his life would be measured in seconds. Maybe if he was lucky he could survive for three.
There was nowhere to turn, no time to stop so Erik jumped, and kicked off the man’s shoulder as he turned, using him as a vault to hit a windowsill and leap across to a hanging fire escape between the two brick tenements on either side of the alley. One pull-up later and he was scrambling upward, skipping the stairs, and jumping across yet again to another sill to pull himself onto the roof and start running again. He covered the roof in the time it took for the sound of a metallic slam and the cracking of brick and mortar as the mutant chasing him made his presence known.
There wasn’t even time to swear as he leapt into open air over the empty street, two stories above the pedestrians and rare traffic. His feet slammed into the ground and he followed the momentum forward, hitting the ground with his hands, rolling along his back on the blacktop, and using the momentum to come to his feet running again as he hauled ass down the town’s main street to the startled looks of the people standing or walking by.
The stares turned to screams, a screech of rubber, and the sound of tortured metal behind him. The bastard chasing him probably landed on a car and kept pursuing. A beat cop was drawing his weapon as Erik came sprinting past.
Erik grabbed the gun before it was completely out of the holster and jerked, spinning the cop away and giving him the impetus to make the corner and run down the adjacent street without spilling out. The cop wasn’t so lucky, and wound up bouncing a couple times along as the frenetic lunatic ran away with his gun.
Adrenaline pounding in his head, Erik was rapidly feeling the early stages of panic, and he automatically started looking for tactical advantages. He couldn’t win fair against this guy, so it was a matter of cheating his ass off and changing the rules. He heard the falling, heavy steps behind him. The son of a bitch was close, as he started guessing the rate he was being gained on by the rate they got louder. His own breath was burning in his lungs.
“You can’t run forever you son of a...” His pursuer cut off as Erik dove forward into a roll, slamming his feet down at the terminus and he aimed, lying on his back, gun pointed up at his target.
The gun went off six times, too close for even turbo-charged exemplar reflexes to take over, and the man rocked, jerked, then tripped over his prone quarry, falling forward as Erik unloaded three more shots into the closing, then tumbling form. He didn’t even bother to see if the bastard was down. He knew he’d only bought himself a little time. The son of a bitch was damned close to bulletproof. Shooting him nine times was the equivalent of hitting a body builder with a baseball bat a few times. It’d hurt like hell, but when the guy recovered he was fucked.
People screamed and ran like a herd of panicked cattle as Erik bolted towards a man getting into his car, grabbed the guy, and threw him one-handed away. Poor bastard hadn’t even had time to get the key out of the lock. Four seconds later and the little tin-can Ford Fiesta peeled out of the parking lot.
Erik looked into the mirror and saw the guy impossibly get up and start chasing the car on foot. He looked pissed, but he wasn’t going to catch his quarry. Erik poured on the gas and drove north, away from the downtown Boston area, determined to get some distance between him and the mutant maniac after him.
He saw it in the rearview mirror, but he didn’t fully believe it. He never really could even though he’d seen things like it a thousand times in people far more powerful than he was. A motorcyclist drove too close to the exemplar mutant and found his bike grabbed and swung around by a handlebar and the back of the seat. The rider flew like a rag doll and the mutant simply dropped the motorcycle to its wheels and hopped on in a motion so smooth no human could have mimicked it.
“Fuck me.” Erik slammed the pedal to the floor and began running suicide maneuvers through traffic, ignoring stop signs, traffic lights, and even being in the wrong lane as needed. As he saw the motorcycle doing the same, he reflected that he should have stolen a corvette, or a damned Cobra Gunship. While he was wishing, he wished he had more time. His was rapidly running out.
He found a clear spot, and shrugged. Well, as long as he was screwed, he might as well go out with a bang. He put on his seat belt at sixty-five miles an hour as he pulled onto the interstate heading north. The radio actually worked in this piece of shit, and he cranked the volume up, listening to Nickelback howling out a song that made him grin as he blew past a police cruiser. The lights began flashing and the siren blared out as he rolled his window down.
He gripped the pistol from the seat as he cut off an SUV and raced past a city bus. The motorcycle was right behind the police cruiser, gaining fast. Erik looked back to the road as the motorcycle pulled even with the cruiser and the mutant pulled past the cops. Well, shit, can’t outrun him, might as well fuck with him.
Erik grinned and relaxed in the seat as the motorcycle carrying his pursuer pulled up right between his back bumper and the squad car. The odds of him pulling this little stunt off and living through it were pretty thin, but a snowball’s chance was better than no chance. “Joe Diamondback, this one’s for you,” he muttered to himself before slamming on the brake, singing along to the Nickelback song as the car slammed into the motorcycle, knocking it over and spinning his assailant under the police car.
“Fuck me!” Erik howled as his stolen car lurched and the back half began dragging, spinning the car slowly from side to side as the vehicle started slowing and sending up sparks. The rear axle of the Fiesta flew through the police car’s windshield, and the cop spun out wildly, flipping repeatedly, and smashing into a Jeep that had pulled over to allow the police to pass. Both vehicles shattered into pieces, Erik noted dully as the Fiesta slowed and began a terminal fishtail that ended with the small vehicle impacting against the center divider. The radio went dead as the tortured engine threw a rod out through the hood of the vehicle.
A quick check revealed he still had all of his body parts intact, and he still had the gun in hand even though it hadn’t discharged. The mutant was standing up along the road where he’d latched onto the back bumper and torn the axle out of the car. Traffic was stopped, as motorists slowed to gawk. Erik threw himself at the doors, finding them sealed tight by the warping of the Fiesta’s frame. He swore and hopped into the passenger seat crouched low on the cushion like a coiled spring and waited.
He didn’t wait long. The seemingly normal-appearing, dark-haired man with the fine-chiseled features and bright green eyes simply reached over and tore the roof of the car off like tinfoil covering a baking turkey. The sound of tortured metal and shattering glass accompanied the motion in a cacophony that would make fingernails against a chalkboard feel like orgasmic bliss by comparison. The man’s eyes widened as he saw the gun and it barked once, locking open as the last round was expended.
Erik saw the mutant’s head snap back as he was thrown to the ground. He tossed the weapon away and bolted out of the wrecked Fiesta, charging back towards the wreckage of the police cruiser, which lay on its back. Traffic was coming to a stop as Erik ducked down and wriggled into the shattered vehicle through the windshield. He pulled the dead officer’s sidearm and keys then unlocked the shotgun from the console and carefully checked the weapon for damage. It was loaded, with six more shells in the weapon’s sling. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.
The mutant was getting back up, slowly, shaking his head in a daze. Erik very slowly, very carefully lifted himself and cramped himself above the hanging dashboard, bracing himself painfully with the door, the dash, and the cop’s corpse. He noted idly that the man’s upper torso had been crushed, the Fiesta’s wheel pinning his body to the seat, the rest of the axle trailing out of the windshield like an obscene spear concocted by a demented child’s imagination. He allowed his head to drop just slightly, giving him a clear view of his enemy.
The man stood unsteadily after his abrupt visit to unconsciousness, stumbling for a few moments before taking his surrounding with clear-eyed precision. A trickle of blood ran down his face from where Erik had shot him. When he recovered, the man looked around and howled, grabbing the Fiesta and flipping it end-over end. The crash and crunch sounds rang out as traffic in the oncoming lane abruptly sped up, as people lost interest in rubbernecking.
“Where are you?” The mutant was angry. “Come on out where I can see you, coward!”
“Not fucking likely,” Erik muttered to himself as he carefully turned the volume down on the police radio in the cruiser. Joy of joys it was still working. “Dispatch, this is civilian at accident scene on Interstate Ninety-Three.” His voice was low as he spoke into the mic, careful to not allow the angry mutant to hear him. “Officer down, repeat, officer down. Mutant rager on scene, requesting the fucking National Guard.”
“This is dispatch, what is your name, and exact location?” The woman’s voice came through, barely audible, but he was able to pick it out over the screaming, and the engines.
“My name is Erik Mahren, I’m just past the mile five marker. We have a mutant rager, classification, Exemplar Six that just stopped traffic out here.”
“Mister Mahren, what is the status of the downed officer?”
“Dead on Arrival Dispatch. I’m hiding in the car next to him.” He watched as the mutant started stalking off the road, back towards the line of buildings. “Homeboy’s bugging out, heading south off the road.”
“Can you give CPR to the officer on-scene?”
“Only if you can figure out how to get the axle of an ’02 Ford Fiesta out of his chest.”
Erik relaxed a bit. All he had to do was chill for a few minutes, wait until the mutant was good and gone, then help the cops clean up the mess. Once again, he would live to fight another day. He was getting ready to ease his way back down and out of the squad car when the world lurched.
The cruiser flipped with him in it, slamming his face on the dash as it came to rest on the wheels. The passenger door tore open and Erik dove out through the destroyed windshield onto the hood of the car, only to feel something grab his ankle and crush it like it was made of Play-Doh. He went back in through the windshield, and lost his grip on the shotgun before being thrown bodily from the cruiser into a concrete lane divider. He heard his ribs snapping, and he began coughing up blood.
He tried to get up, tried to run, tried to fight…and failed miserably at all three. He was seeing double as the angry face of his assailant rushed forward, faster than any normal human, and the man struck him once.
Erik Mahren never felt the fist pass completely through his skull as he died.
Several students looked ill as they saw the man thrown from the car with no more effort than one would idly toss a rag doll into a toybox. Not a few of the students’ stomachs heaved when the fist delivered the coup de grace. All in all it was impressive, gruesome, and downright terrifying.
Mister Anderson, the Survival class instructor looked at the class, clustered about the viewing screen in the Arena 99 observation room. “Now class, a good part of escape and evasion lies in knowing how to size up an opponent and get a feel for what they are going to do, or are capable of. In the first part of this demonstration you were told that the aggressor in this exercise is an Exemplar Six with combat experience. You were not told what his prey was, in response. Part of this exercise is to evaluate our runner, and determine what he could have done better, what he did correctly, and whether this was a winnable scenario.”
He turned as the two combatants in the scenario entered the room. Erik Mahren was as healthy as ever, having just come out of the simulator pod alongside his partner in crime, Ryan Wilson. The two range maniacs stepped into the classroom with patently evil grins that made the kids wonder if their assessment that Anderson was, in fact, the Devil Incarnate wasn’t somewhat misplaced.
Erik felt a dozen pairs of eyes lock onto him at once and smirked as he could almost see the wheels turning in the kids’ heads as they considered the possibilities. No one ever got this one right. He looked at the small class with a bemused expression as the kids guessed what kind of mutant he might be.
“Yes Mister Coleman.” Anderson pointed to the unassuming Devisor boy in the back of the class. Erik grinned, as Buddy “Flywire” Coleman had been trying to figure out the answer to that question since the semester began a little over a week before when he found himself having to test his heavy weapons on Mahren’s gun range.
“Well Sir, I didn’t know Corporal Mahren could move like that, so I have to change my initial assessment to Energizer two, one of the daredevil types who stores energy and uses it for endurance and power at need.”
Erik grinned at the boy and slowly shook his head in response. Anderson looked at the boy and simply said. “You get a B+ for your guess, while your logic is flawed, it was an interesting assessment that might fit the parameters.”
Erik pointed at a girl who looked at a girl who seemed almost dinosaurian who was timidly raising a hand. “Sound off young lady, I’d like to know who’s speaking.” Anderson pointedly ignored Mahren’s cheek in picking the next student, knowing from experience that the bull-headed marine didn’t care one way or another what anyone thought of him.
“I’m Kaiju.” Figured that a dinosaurian girl with definite monster island type mutations would get saddled with a name like that. “I’d have to guess Exemplar Three with minor Esper traits.”
Erik simply held out his hand and Wilson grumbled, dropping a twenty into his partner in crime’s palm. “Always go for the obvious answers first.”
The next three guesses were equally entertaining with PK, Package-Deal-Psychic and Devisor with hidden toys topping the list as the kids wracked their brains for answers to the question at hand. None of the kids got higher than a B on their assessment, as the answers were totally obvious, yet wildly incorrect.
“Probability Warper?” The boy, who went by Firelight asked curiously, only to have his dreams of an A crushed when Wilson started snickering.
“Damn, Mahren if you were a mangler , it wouldn’t have been a chase.” He considered, “You aren’t secretly a mangler are you?”
“Just be glad I didn’t have any of my toys with me this run, you stinkin’ yahoo.” Erik grinned evilly without answering Wilson’s question.
“I don’t stink, Jarhead.”
“Take a shower man; I was able to smell you coming. It’s why I got so much lead time on you.”
Several students snickered as the two range combat instructors bantered back and forth. The laughter was pretty thick when a voice spoke quietly but firmly. “You’re a baseline.” The girl the two range nuts looked at was a pretty slip of a thing with red-highlighted blonde hair and a thoughtful expression.
Erik’s grin became eager, and evil though the girl didn’t shrink she did flinch a bit. “What’s your name?”
“Maggie, err... Lifeline.”
“Well, Lifeline, wow me with your logic here.”
“Well, nothing you did really required any kind of mutant powers. They would have helped, sure, but the jumps, the wall runs, bounding between fire escapes, none of it was any more than any of us have seen someone like Jackie Chan do. Then there was the point where you actually fought back. You used a gun, even though you knew it would be ineffective except as a distraction to buy time. In fact, for mutant powers, you didn’t really do anything more than run for a long time, what, fifteen minutes, while doing some insane things that most people in their right minds would never consider. Everything you did screams training rather than power, and it’s the kind of example that Mister Anderson would leap on from what I’ve seen.”
Erik’s evil grin had changed into a stunned one and he practically beamed at the unintentional compliment he’d received from the girl, as well as pleasant surprise that a mutant student actually thought of a baseline being able to pull the kind of crap he’d done. “You get a cookie.”
All twelve of the kids looking on seemed stunned by that simple revelation, even Lifeline. It always happened but it was gratifying to see the kids beginning to come to such conclusions on their own.
“Mahren, now that you have shocked my students, do you have anything to say?”
“Yeah I do. Pay attention to this man, because he’s very damned good at what he does.” Erik pointed at the reedy Survival instructor very seriously. “He knows what he’s talking about and he knows how to survive situations in the sims that kill me every time. This little pursuit we showed you was stacked against me, but I managed to keep out of the hands of a mutant who most A-List Supervillains or heroes would think twice about tackling, with nothing but a prayer and a bit of training.”
“What was that running acrobatics thing you were doing to keep ahead of him?” Kaiju pointed at Wilson.
“It’s called Parkour, and if you are ever unlucky enough to pull detention with me you’ll become intimately familiar with it and the pain it brings learning it.” Erik and Wilson restrained grins as several students immediately began calculating how to get into detention to learn how to do it for themselves. Most of the ones who tried would never try again, as Parkour taught as a personal sport vastly differed from Parkour used as a disciplinary measure.
“Well, gentlemen,” Anderson looked at the two Combat Wombats in front of him, “I have to go over a few things with the class during our remaining minutes here. So if you please, let us complete our business?” He held out a hand, palm-up.
Erik and Wilson glared bullets at the man as each walked over and dropped a fifty into Anderson’s open palm. Neither one liked to lose money, though they did have a nasty habit of making wagers.
After the two Range instructors left, Lifeline looked at Mr. Anderson curiously. “If it’s not too pushy, what was that about?”
Anderson gave the girl a shark-like smile. “They bet me not one of you would be able to do a correct assessment of Corporal Mahren. By the way, Lifeline, you get an A on the assessment.”
Sometimes strange things make a person click with a job, or a new social group. I wish that the horrifying and stressful, or deeply enraging weren’t the kind of things that clicked with me and actually got me going full-bore with enthusiasm. Unfortunately it seems that my life tends to run in that direction.
Being a teacher at Whateley Academy is bar none the best thing that has ever happened to me, but it isn’t without its share of pitfalls and pains. Being a teacher wasn’t all books, knowledge and screwy mind games. Being a teacher means finding ways to help a child grow beyond their own perceptions of what is, and face life with both eyes open. Sometimes being a teacher also means helping a child cope with problems they can’t see a way out of, be it academic, social, or in more than one horrifying case a combination of physiological and psychological.
I found Pauline Maxwell, one of the Whitman girls, in the range locker she had broken into during my first semester at Whateley. The girl had been missing for three hours when I found her crying in the underground range setup that combined the firing areas ostensibly designated as ranges one and two, or the high-caliber and pistol ranges, respectively. I was prepared for many things, crying, a scared kid, hell even a theft in progress. What I wasn’t expecting was to find a very depressed girl with a .45 pistol muzzle pressed up under her chin while she tried to find the nerve to pull the trigger.
I didn’t even have time to think when I saw the sight of the GSD-afflicted girl with the gun pressed to her own jaw. I just reacted, and while no one else likely would have done what I did, they probably didn’t have nightmares of children dying under guns that never should have been turned on them that would haunt them until the day they died. I kicked the pistol away from her hard enough to set it off when it hit the far wall. Thankfully, in my moment of sheer, panicked stupidity neither of us got hurt, though the shock of a teacher seemingly attacking her and the report of the gun shocked her halfway to her senses. I say halfway because she came up shrieking, incoherent and angry at me.
Shrieking I could handle, incoherent was easy to deal with, angry at me was good because it meant she wasn’t thinking of killing herself. The downside to this was I suddenly found myself running, juking and dodging away from a girl who could rip me in half without much effort, or psychically burn off every neuron I had all at once. Fortunately she wasn’t able to pull her concentration together enough for that, so I was able to use the mad, eclectic setup of the gun range to duck, dodge and vault away from the girl as she vented her rage on steel and concrete. If she’d caught me I’d have died with no regrets. Better me than a child, even one scarred by her own mind and poor self-image.
Sure, I could have hit the range panic button and had every armored asshole on Whateley Academy there in less than three minutes. Sure, I probably could have hollered for Fubar and gotten an immediate response, but I didn’t. I don’t really know why to this day, but somehow I knew I had to get her to open up, or at least think enough to start talking. Besides, if the Security teams came armed for heavy, dollars to doughnuts she’d have rushed them, intent on getting herself shot. A lot.
I’d decided when I started at Whateley that it would be a cold day in hell that one of these kids would die on my watch without me doing every goddamned thing in my power to keep them alive. This wasn’t to say I was going to stand idly by while one tried to rip my guts out like Pauline was doing, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to let her flatline herself either. Catch 22, I couldn’t fight back effectively because I didn’t want to hurt her, but by the same token I wasn’t particularly eager to feel the thrill of having my internal organs externalized. I wound up bouncing around the range like a Mexican jumping bean, praying she would run out of steam before I ran out of places to run.
Some days it just doesn’t pay to chew through the leather straps.
“All right you lot, let me get one goddamned thing clear. If I ever see you little nut-nuggets pointing one of my fucking firearms at another student or the staff ever again, I will personally introduce you to the joys of arthroscopic surgery when they extract the banger in question from your fucking colon! Mister Counterpoint did not get my message, so he is no longer with us.” Erik wasn’t yelling, even though he was pretty sure if Carson opened her window back at Schuster Hall she’d be able to clearly hear every word he was spitting at the wide-eyed and somewhat unnerved children on the receiving end of his tirade. The man could project, almost painfully so at times.
The twelve students standing more or less at attention didn’t dare move from their positions. Even the most cocky student at Whateley understood the basics. One does not give lip to a teacher, ever, no matter how much the temptation arose, especially when said teacher was as terrifying as Gunny Bardue and Sergeant-Major Smythe, or as ferociously and eternally mean as Corporal Erik Mahren.
Counterpoint had screwed up, threatening Mule with a .50 caliber rifle, grinning as he aimed in on the other boy. Everyone knew that the gun wouldn’t do more than irritate the Grunts’ brick, but that didn’t matter one whit to the range monster assigned to train them. They weren’t sure what exactly happened when Mahren bull-rushed Counterpoint, but the result was that the Range Four instructor was having a bit of a sore day from the bruise on his ribs, and Counterpoint went to the infirmary with a dislocated shoulder and elbow before Delarose got his hands on the Ultraviolent New Olympian.
Counterpoint would never be allowed to touch dirt on a Whateley range again until he convinced not only the range instructor he had angered that he was redeemable, but he convinced the Unholy Trinity of Smythe, Carson and Delarose that he had mended his ways. The rules on the ranges were rigid, immutable and ruthlessly enforced. Not one of the Range crew was prepared to have a child injured or killed on their watch, especially through negligence or inattentiveness on their parts.
Mahren scowled at the students standing before him, mentally calculating the likelihood of one of them deliberately pissing him off to see his reaction. When his calculations reached Zero, he pointed at the heavy bunker containing the weapons. “Mega-Death, Mule, you have cage detail! See to the weapon draws and do not screw up the range cards again or I will PT you both until you die! Blasters take the line, but do not fire. Once the weapons are issued we will begin today’s lesson. Everyone else form a line and get your draw cards out. Once you have your weapons from Mule, you will get your ammunition from Mega-Death. Now move!”
The kids were scrambling almost as soon as he finished talking, and rapidly an orderly line formed just inside the bunker while Mule and MD began unlocking the requisite materials. Mahren moved discretely to a point where he could watch the action in the cage as well as make sure the five blaster kids kept themselves in check while he “wasn’t looking.” After almost two weeks of dealing with his terroristic teaching style, none were feeling particularly froggy. Mahren gave a silent prayer of thanks and watched the cage.
Mega-Death popped open a drawer and drew out his medication, taking the pills as the first student reached him. He dutifully noted the taking of the pills in the log book for later and began pulling the power packs for the particle cannon the first student was wielding. Most of the Range Four kids tended towards weapons of choice, as many of them were devisors, which meant that the cage carried a rather wide mix of exotic ordinance.
“So MD, why do you always take your pills here, man?” The boy, Techno-Devil, as he called himself, had the demonic forelocks of his family’s fame. Unfortunately he had his father’s penchant for less-than-legal enterprise, so Erik always watched him like a hawk on the ranges.
“It’s part of my parole.” Mega-Death didn’t like admitting to being anything but a shining example of responsible devisor development, but his Diedrick’s Syndrome was well-known. “I pissed Mahren off and violated about three range regs last year, so he booted my ass. This was part of my penance, making sure that I’m always on top of my meds.”
“I thought they never let anyone come back to the ranges.”
“They don’t usually. I busted my ass to get re-instated, and believe me I don’t want to go through it again, but for now Mal move your ass. I got ammo to hand out, and you’re delaying the evil king of psychos’ class schedule.”
“What the hell is he gonna do about it? I’m not breaking any rules.”
“That’s not gonna stop me from skinning you alive and breaking you in detention tonight, loudmouth!” Mahren cut into the conversation since MD was kind enough to remember that he had work to do. “Get your draw and get on the line or I will personally shove that energy cannon up your ass!”
Malachai got a dark look, but he didn’t say anything else as he took his devisor cannon out to the firing line. Mahren watched and waited for any sign of defiance, but it didn’t come. His ‘unholy terror teacher’ act served a purpose, and it wasn’t for his own twisted amusement. That was merely a happy side-effect.
Mule and MD passed the weapons out rapidly, and the kids all got online and ready, although no one loaded or aimed a weapon. They were learning, and the older students who had spent a year on the range did their level best to educate the froshes or newcomers in general so that they would not have to deal with the teacher’s “one screws up, all pay for it” philosophy.
“Nice work.” Mahren nodded to the kids. “Take a knee.”
All of the students walked up then took a knee in a semicircle around him as he dropped the asshole act and began actually teaching. Each student braced their weapon if they had one, barrels pointed to the sky, save for Mega-Death, whose barrel was dug into the ground. The odd, electro-particle emitter he favored grounded out harmlessly into dirt for some reason, so it was the safest position to keep it in, even uncharged.
“Over the last two weeks, you’ve learned the basics, keeping to safety regs and basic marksmanship. Each of you has an aptitude or preference for heavy fire, but can any of you tell me what the primary useful function of heavy weapons or power blasters is in an actual combat situation?”
Malachai raised his hand and Mahren pointed at him. “The purpose is to take out hardened targets on the battlefield, Sir?”
“Are you asking me or telling me?”
“Asking, Sir.”
“Close.” Mahren shook his head. “But that’s not the correct answer per se. A heavy weapon or blaster is most effective in a group or unit providing support to lighter hitting groups, taking out or suppressing enemies that otherwise would break your offense, or overwhelm a retreat. Yes, these weapons and powers can be individually devastating, but they are always far more effective with support.”
Malachai nodded, as did the other students, they’d heard similar lectures before, most of them, but it helped to keep things in perspective. Mahren’s class was often boring, repetitive, and filled with lectures, but just as often it was fast-paced, frenetic, and quite often terrifying. The man knew how to illustrate a point, usually in the most brutally direct fashion he could concoct.
“My purpose here, is not to make you the hardened killers that will be worthy to join my military forces, or into hardened badasses, though I know some inevitably go that route. My purpose is to show you how to effectively survive a combat situation involving heavy fire, and how to fight back. This is not license to go throw down with the goddamned MCO Strike Units or the Knights of Purity. If you do that, you’re deeply screwed, and there’s not much I can do for you except pray.” Erik began walking back and forth, adjusting the round-brimmed D.I. cover he’d earned the right to wear as a Primary Marksmanship Instructor for the Marine Boot Camp during his last months in the corps.
“Part of this class will be learning when and where it is appropriate to use said weapons and powers, and where it is not. Believe it or not, kiddies, sometimes it’s better to surrender or withdraw than fight the bad guys. I know none of you is ready to pull the trigger with a bunch of hopeless and helpless civilians in your kill zone, or at least I hope you’re not, so you need to learn three things, the first being control. The second thing you will learn is threat assessment, and finally you will learn when it is time to throw in the towel and go elsewhere. I am here to teach you to survive against assholes like me who, first and foremost, will gleefully use any fuckup you make to end your career in whatever you choose to do, in brutal and spectacular fashion.”
The kids nodded as Erik continued. “Today, we learn about a tactic called ‘talking guns’ which is best used with two or more heavy weapons supporting one another in dealing with the same target area. It allows tactical flexibility, and makes it harder for an enemy to pick out a single target, or really tell where the fire is coming from. Hit the line, and myself and my range assists will demonstrate the proper method for carrying this out.”
With a nod, the kids moved to the firing line at a much safer pace than before. No one wanted to trip and fall with potentially loaded guns in play. Mutants may be more powerful than baseline humans, but bullets and plasma bolts were equal-opportunity killers. They didn’t give a rat’s ass about what anyone would consider mitigating factors, like being righteous, having made a promise, or being merely a child.
“Before we begin, Techno-Devil, gimmie fifty for calling me Sir. I work for a goddamned living.” Mahren grinned evilly as Malachai snarked and grumbled and got into the infamous forward-leaning-rest position with his cannon lying across the back of his hands. As he began, the other students carefully hid smug expressions denoting that they had not triggered Mahren’s mercurial and seemingly random temper. If their instructor saw the smiles, or heard snickering they would be joining their errant compatriot.
Erik wandered over to Mule, who handed him his personal weapon, an M240-G machinegun that had been heavily modified by Slapdash and a host of other Devisors who were all too eager to get extra credit by making Mahren’s personal weapon of choice more deadly than it already was to begin with. Mule’s weapon was almost identical, save that his didn’t have one of the notorious AEGIS loaders of Whateley fame strapped to the gun. He could never get the things to work.
“All right, you two, standard pattern, just like we practiced last night.” Mahren nodded to Mule and Mega-Death. “You ready for this Dom, Harvey?”
“Gonna make you look bad, Corporal.” Mule grinned evilly.
“Full power?” Mega-Death was smart enough to ask first.
“At your discretion, MD, Mark ‘em up and we’ll light the fires.”
The first eruption of blue-white lightning hit the target, a burned out AMTRAK vehicle and detonated outward, slagging the steel hull and melting down most of the machine. A second shot did not instantly follow, as three seconds later, Mule let rip with a long burst, firing into the molten slag, ripping the remains apart and sending globs of molten metal skyward. Three seconds later Mahren let fly with his baby, sending a screaming hail of lead that continued Mule’s fine work of turning the glowing wreck into swiss cheese, at a much faster rate of fire.
The cycle began again, with MD putting another shot into the wrecked vehicle, followed by the two machineguns in turn as the three rapidly reduced a target meant to last for hours against constant fire into unrecognizable slag. When the three cleared their weapons, Erik simply nodded and his two assistants went about their business, moving to coach the other kids in teams as the “Range Nazi” moved back to observe. Mule and MD were competent, and they knew their business. When they spoke, generally the students listened very carefully, for fear of Mahren’s wrath. MD and Mule, on their part, paid very close attention to what they told their fellow students.
Mahren’s wrath against an inattentive student was nothing compared to what he would unleash upon a Range Assist should they fuck up.
How many times must we deal with stupid high-school shit? The correct answer is “every goddamned day” when you work at Whateley Academy. The social pecking order is simple yet complex, though the actual politics of that particular distinction rank among the most arbitrary and stupid I have ever come across. Every time I see the bullshit I ask myself if that’s what it was like in High School. Sadly, by and large the answer is a resounding yes. Except for the mutant powers.
Ok, the OPEN use of mutant powers. I’ll tell you about Karyn Fuller sometime, and my pack of outcast buddies, refugees from the normal human genome. Yeah, I had some weird friends when I was a kid, and not all of them were exactly paragons of virtue, or safe to piss off. I haven’t seen ‘em in about a decade, and I still can’t decide if I shouldn’t try to mend the bridges I burned in my temper outbreak my last year in Fairbanks. If I wasn’t so good at sabotaging my own life I’d swear someone had it out for me.
So back to the stupid social politics of Whateley Academy. I discovered a new brand of social target in the GSD students on the campus. I should have known it would happen, but the thought hadn’t crossed my brain for a myriad of reasons, mostly the aforementioned Karyn Fuller. I should have seen it coming but I honestly was expecting the mutants in the school to have some sense of solidarity in a common background. Stupid me, I forgot that mutants were still human with all the prejudices, quirks and social foibles common to pretty much humanity at large during my time in the Corps.
So it was the beginning of the second semester, after Pauline Maxwell’s close encounter with a bullet that I started paying attention to things around campus, specifically with the GSD crowd. I knew then why everyone seemed so divided on the issue. By and large you didn’t see the GSD’s outside the classrooms and tunnels on anything but a green flag day. It was really visible in the Crystal hall, with the pretties, for the most part, congregating together, leaving the more plain kids sort of stuck together, and the GSD’s generally didn’t mix with either of the other groups. It wasn’t universal and there was obviously a peppering of exceptions, as some rare kids could give a shit about appearance, but by and large it was rather akin to watching White, Black and Asian kids segregate themselves into groups.
Nowadays when someone tortures the GSD kids you turn towards the Alphas with a cold eye. Back in my first year it was the Golden Kids who were the thundering pricks. They’re still pricks, but Freyja and Sebastiano screwed the Alphas out of a good thing. If you think I’m wrong, go ask Hartford about the good old days when noblesse oblige actually meant something to the influential kids at the school. Her scowl could darken the North Pole on the summer solstice. It’s one of my favorite pastimes.
Given that I’d been the butt of the kind of asshole behavior and raw disrespect the damn kids handed out to one another, I always have to bite my goddamned tongue and step back. Much as I wanted to help, the rules were “THE RULES.” No direct interference unless the students came to me or I saw something that couldn’t be allowed to slide. The theory, which Carson was working very dilligently to change, was that the kids needed to learn to fight their own battles without assistance or at least to learn to ask for help. That tack was bullshit because it simply made more victims, or worse it made more potential Columbine kids. With super powers.
I’d love to say that in Pauline’s case I made a difference, but she was too far gone by the time I realized there was a problem. For all my ability tactically, my social and empathy skills leave much to be desired. I have a very hard time relating to people except on a very immediate basis. I tried to help the girl, made her my project, and seemed to make some headway, but apparently it wasn’t enough.
At the end of the school year, Pauline Maxwell stole her father’s shotgun in their Wisconsin home and shot herself. She was declared dead on June 28th, 2001 at 8:22 AM by the doctors at a nearby hospital, all because she thought she was a freak, and the world pushed that view on her.
This was the thing I hated most and fought hardest against. Pauline wasn’t just another number among the mutants I have seen fight and die, she was a child, another human with hopes, wants and dreams. I’ve tried since that day to change the image I present to the kids, hard-ass but fair. I wanted to make a damned difference, to try and make an impression that might cause the Paulines of the world to see that not every shithead on this rock thought they were freakish, to treat them no better or worse than the most shining example of Exemplar good looks that ran across my desk.
On duty, overseeing the ranges, I was still a dick. I’m not changing that any time soon, but I did make it more abundantly clear to the kids that I would be there for them if they needed help for classes, if they needed someone to talk to, or even if they needed someone to scream at. Erik Mahren the Range Instructor was not the same person as when I shucked uniform in favor of leather jacket and jeans, combat boots for hiking boots, “smokey” cover for a sickening green bandanna.
I don’t know if anyone noticed in the staff during that year. I didn’t go out of my way to tell any of my coworkers that I wanted to help the kids overcome their problems. Hell, I was a pariah, openly known to be at the school on Carson’s sufferance. I’ve always held to the philosophy that words are just wasted breath when making promises. Do not fucking tell me you’re going to do something, show me that you’ve done it.
I took that lesson to heart as I kept to myself and began spending extra time with the kids, quietly tutoring kids who needed it for various subjects and learning more than I gave out in the process. I can’t compete with genius kids, so I had to do my damned homework and learn whole new areas of study just to begin helping. So while the Range crew save for Cat, who still thought I was a dick, were talking to me and treating me like a real teacher most of the school was watching me with a wary eye, wondering what I had done to earn Carson’s contempt.
Fortunately Carson didn’t see fit to share her reasons, or I’d have been dead within the first week.
Erik suppressed a grin as Cat was bringing her class to a close. The Manifestor kids all got worried looks as he waltzed into the classroom area and leaned against the wall, but breathed a sigh of relief when they realized that his “smokey” cover was missing from his normal teaching apparel. Lack of D.I. cover meant he was simply there to see Cat when she finished the class, not lay down the law on behalf of the school, as was often the case. He simply waited while the short, pixie-haired woman completed the class and dismissed the kids before walking over to her.
“Hey Erik, did you burn down the rest of the school?” Cat’s grin was infectious as the kids all filed out while pretending not to watch the two teachers who were blatantly in love with each other. Like fire and ice, the two of them seemed so very different. Cat was usually cheerful and full of energy, always about with her infectious smiles and approachable demeanor while her cold-blooded fiancée seemed more harsh and distant. Where she was forgiving, Erik seemed merciless, and where he was calm she was always burning with emotion.
None of those differences meant a thing when they hugged after the last of the students filed out.
“Nah, I didn’t burn down the campus, Hartford told me she’d lose my paycheck again if I did.” Erik couldn’t resist. He knew Cat and Amelia Hartford were good friends, but he and Hartford quietly and vehemently despised one another. Some people were just too alike in all the wrong ways to get along.
“You be nice.” Cat elbowed him in the ribs, and Erik gave an exaggerated wince as he pretended to be wounded.
“What means this ‘nice’ thing you speak of, human?” He caught Cat up and pulled her in, then gave her a quick kiss.
Cat McQuiston rolled her eyes, wondering for the thousandth time how he pulled of the big bad wolf act without letting his softer side show. “Nice, that thing you do when you are around me.”
“That’s nice?” Erik gave a wondering look. “You mean all I needed to get Hartford to calm down was to...” He stopped as Cat smacked him upside the head and gave him a mock-growl.
“Erik...”
“You know, you’re adorable when you’re irritated.”
“You’re impossible.”
“So is your taste in men, but I’m not complaining.”
“You are such an ass.” Cat shook her head and broke away from Erik, chuckling. “So I answered your cell phone this morning, you left it at the apartment again.”
“I can’t escape the damn thing, even here!”
“True.” She handed him the offending piece of electronics. “Byron called, said something about him and the boys being in Boston for the Jam this weekend.”
“Wait... this weekend?” Erik racked his brains for a brief moment. “Oh shit! How the hell did I forget that?”
“You usually do, remember? How many times have I had to field the scheduling for your old Marine buddies?”
Erik looked like he’d swallowed something sour. “I scheduled the Hooligans for a Parkour run this weekend in Boston. They’ve been looking forward to their first run for the last couple days since I told ‘em about it.”
“And this is a problem, why? Seriously Erik, the kids aren’t going to be mentally damaged by doing one of your crazy Parkour runs with your buddies.”
Erik gave her an odd look. “You do remember Jerry, right?”
“You have a point.”
“Fucking hell. I really did myself good here. I can’t hook up with the guys for probably another six months, and I’m not going to back out of a promise to the kids.” Erik shook his head slowly. “Carson’s going to skin me alive for this one.”
“And this is new, how?”
Erik grinned at the fiery little woman he’d given an engagement ring to and shrugged. “Just another thing. Fortunately I don’t think the guys’ll give a shit one way or another that the kids are mutants.”
“They liked me.” Cat shrugged and looked at him smugly.
“Yeah but everyone likes you.”
“Not everyone...”
“Englund doesn’t count. He doesn’t like anyone.”
Cat rolled her eyes. “You have an explanation for everything don’t you?”
Erik looked at her for a few moments, then grinned and nodded. “And I can make the bullshit sound real when I try hard enough.”
Cat just chuckled and pointed to the door. “Out! I have another class I need to teach on the range in a few minutes and you’re going to make me late. Vaminos, boyo, or I’ll be forced to take extreme measures on you!”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time!”
Erik ducked out into the hallway quickly, feigning indifference as the weak fireball poofed out on the wall opposite the door leading to Cat’s classroom. Several freshmen stared at him oddly, suddenly understanding the black marks on the wall. Erik eyeballed them and narrowed his eyes.
“What are you all looking at?” He barked sharply, “I believe you little rats have classes to attend!”
He chuckled inside as the kids scrambled to get to their respective classes. He was having a really good day.
Wilson ran up behind Erik, whacking him over the head with his black beret. “Hey loser, What’s up?”
“You’re about to be, you asshat. Up to the infirmary.”
“Aww, man you say such nice things to me but dude, for the fifth time, I’m not attracted to you like…” Wilson started laughing as the ex-marine backhanded him in the chest. “Does everything you do have to be violent?”
“Only when I don’t have to worry about a goddamned lawsuit.”
“Agggghhhh! My spleen! Workman’s comp! The baseline is beating me!” Wilson, of course, hammed it up.
Erik chuckled. “So, beer night in two weeks?”
“What happened to this weekend?”
“Dammit Ryan, I’m taking the kids to a Parkour Jam this weekend, remember?”
“What, do I look like your drinking buddy corporal? You think you can speak to me with such familiarity? Oh HELL no!” Wilson snickered. He loved needling his “little buddy” about being such a hardass. His amusement was renewed when Erik swatted him again. In the head. Hard.
“Asshole.”
Erik bowed. “Look Wilson, I’d love to continue punishing you for your love affair with the guy on the other side of the mirror, but I gotta go get my shit squared away for this weekend. I got me a fresh meat monkey to break in.”
“Who’s the newbie?”
“Aquerna. She’s been loitering with the Underdogs. I saw her running from Aries a few days back, and followed them. When she stopped I told Aries to bugger off, and put Aquerna through her paces.”
“Wait. Since when do you let the bully off the hook and punish the kid he’s chasing?”
Erik grinned. “Since I saw her move. She’s a Parkour Hooligan, mano. She just doesn’t know it yet. I’m inviting her to play tag-along for the Jam, and my old Ell-Tee was still struggling with the more advanced maneuvers last I saw him, so if she’s not a natural like I’m thinking I can put her with him since he’ll be in town this weekend.”
“Dude. She thinks you’re playing favorites with the Alphas, doesn’t she?”
Erik shrugged at Wilson. “Probably, but I wouldn’t invite an Alpha to a Parkour Jam if you threatened my dick with a food processor.”
“Speaking of which, Carson’s on the way here, she’s looking at you, and her expression is somewhat less than happy.”
“What the fuck else is new? I’ll see you for Warning Class this afternoon.”
“Okay.”
Erik grinned and turned to walk straight towards Carson. On her face was a scowl that would have sent lesser, or saner, men running in fear. “I didn’t do it.”
Elizabeth Carson often wondered why she put up with Mahren. “I have this week’s laundry list of complaints. Do you want the full tirade now, or just the highlights?”
“Highlights please, boss. I already know about Nitro’s ongoing demand for an investigation into why I keep refusing to allow him entry onto the range grounds.”
Carson nodded. “Alright, and in your favor there, the mandatory requirement that any students entering the ranges complete Wilson’s safety course aren’t going to be waived.”
“Thank you Boss. I was getting tired of hearing about that.”
“Second, why is Counterpoint sporting two dislocated joints? I’m sorry but if I recall your job description does not have ‘beating my students into the hospital’ in it.” As Carson’s voice got dangerously quiet, Erik sighed inwardly. Same song, new dance.
“Carson, We’ve played this game before. Counterpoint, in his infinite lack of wisdom, decided to stick the barrel of a loaded Barrett in Dominic Sellars’ face while on Range Four.” Erik kept his breathing under control as he defended his position on something that already enraged him. The thought of Counterpoint’s smirking face aiming the Anti-Vehicle rifle at Mule while fingering the trigger brought spots of red to Erik’s vision. “I am aware that Mule is a PK-4 brick, and that he is, for all intents and purposes, bulletproof. I am also aware that none of the other students, and myself, are bulletproof. I was very clear with this, and every other class I have taught, and have told them that so much as deliberately pointing a weapon at another student, or myself, would be treated as though it were an attack. Counterpoint very loudly told Mule that I didn’t have the balls to stop him, and couldn’t were I so inclined.”
Erik looked Carson in the eye, fully realizing the dangerous ground he was treading with her. “Same story boss. I acted when he clicked off the safety. Then I snapped his mighty New Olympian ass for doing what he did.”
“How did you break through the PK field Counterpoint was mimicking, Erik? You shouldn’t have been able to stop him.”
“You know, Mrs. Dennon’s been asking me the same question for the last four years.”
Carson gave him a narrow-eyed glare. “Every year. Why is it that every year you have to make a point that involves injuring a student?”
“Because I’m not like you, Carson. I’m not a known factor in the world. The kids don’t see me, or Gunny B. or Smythe, as someone to take seriously until we slam down the hammer. Smythe’s our admin guy, and he and Gunny are both getting old. You know and I know that someone needs to be the bad guy, the Whateley catering to both sides of the law spectrum is something I keep in mind because as bad as anything I do… Doesn’t hold a damned candle to the assholes out in real life. If that means I have to beat down a brick, shoot a flyer with rock salt, or scare the shit out of some hapless berk to ensure these kids have the best fighting chance they can get I will do it.”
“I dislike that excuse.”
“Excuse my ass, as far as you are concerned until six years ago I was the bad guy. I was, in your eyes, the asshole with the gun waiting for your babies in the dark, regardless of what was really going on, Carson. You want to know why I want to be the bad guy? Because I’m damned good at it, and the kids learn.”
“What, do you want me to admit I was wrong?”
“No, I want you to not take the side of a kid who’s a card-carrying nut who was threatening the other students on my range with an anti-armor rifle.”
“Fine. I’ll let Delarose handle this. However, you will give him your full cooperation.”
“Carson, he’s already been in and out of my shop and taken statements from the kids on the range. He was the first person I got on the scene.”
“And his judgement?”
“Same as last year, and the year before, and so on, boss. In this case, regardless of whether or not Mule’s bulletproof, Counterpoint stepped over the line, and I was defending the lives of my other students.” He calmed down quite a bit. “Look, Carson, I don’t go looking for wankers to make examples of. I don’t deliberately piss in your pool, and not once in the last six years have I lied to you. I’d like to think I’ve earned some trust after that.”
“You have, Erik, but I do need to be sure that you’re sincere and in the right when I deal with the Board of Directors.”
“Wait, all that howling was to gauge whether or not I’m not screwing with you all?”
“I wasn’t howling, you were. And yes, it’s more or less the same thing you’re putting that poor Aquerna girl through. I’ve had no less than four Underdogs come to my office to complain that you’re punishing her for running from a bully.” She narrowed her eyes. “I am correct in trusting that is not the case, I hope?”
Erik nodded. “Kid’s got the knack, so I’m inviting her to the big Parkour Jam in Boston this weekend, with the understanding that I’d like her to join the Hooligans.”
“You could have asked her that up front, you know.”
“What, and ruin my reputation for being absolutely unreasonable?” He gave the Headmistress a wild-eyed, incredulous look.
Carson shook her head. It had taken her far longer to warm up to Erik Mahren than with any other member of the staff. She was honestly sorry she had waited so long, even if he was a complete ass. “So the last bit of business is from the desks of Lieutenant Trout and Sergeant Buxton.”
Erik got a disgusted look. “I don’t care, I don’t want to hear it, and if either of them thinks I’m letting any of their sticky-fingered buddy-fuckers anywhere near the ammunition delivery for the semester, they can get on their knees and lick my…”
“Erik!” Carson’s use of his name was like a whipcrack, and it got him to shut up. She’d have to remember to thank Cat for telling her about that trick. “Do you have any legitimate reasons for refusing access to the ammunition delivery to Third Platoon?”
“Nothing provable in court… except that since I put in the order for the hardware, I’m the only person they’ll sign it over to. Me and Smythe are the only two people with the permits and licenses to do this, and Smythe’s policy on Third Platoon stands on my watch as well.”
“Shooting our security officers is counterproductive.”
“But fun. I’m not risking a federal lockup because something vanishes between the supply point and the school vaults. If so much as a .22 bullet turns up missing between there and here it’s my ass. So no. If Trout and Buxton push me, I will hospitalize them and remove the issue from my desk. Third Platoon is off Ammo Delivery. Period.”
Carson cocked her head disinterestedly and shrugged. “Now that the official nonsense is done, I’m going to wish you and the hooligans fun at the Parkour Jam.” Without so much as another word, she walked with her air of quiet dignity back towards Schuster Hall.
“Just when I thought I’d figured her out…” Erik shook his head and started walking towards Melville. He had a squirrel-avatar to mess with.
Erik was whistling a warped little tune to himself, shaking his head and marching straight through the main area of the school, more or less ignoring the mixed bag of kids wandering about, and watching for his favorite class of victim… Recruiters. Fortunately for them, and unfortunately for him, the lot of them rarely bothered the class at this time of day. He desperately wished they’d play, because he needed something to distract him from the inevitable final-period class he ran once a year, corralling every student working on one of the ranges for a rather grim evaluation of actual battlefield conditions, and the heroes did not always win.
My greatest joy at Whateley has, and always will be the Parkour Hooligans. What started out as a particularly ferocious punishment regimen for misbehavior grew into something more when a couple kids realized that not only were they good at it, but they enjoyed it. The actual parkour runs for fun didn’t begin until four years ago, and I’ve never had a large group. Anderson is the only teacher who sees it as more than a flashy waste of time. Wilson just knows I can run his ass into the ground when I chase that Exemplar Six bastard through a city, traffic or not.
It all started in Poe, the madhouse of Whateley. If you buy that I have a bridge to sell you. I’ve been crushed on by two many fucking blazing gay boys from that cottage not to have figured out what the fuck Carson’s play there was. I disagree wholeheartedly that it’s for the best, but it’s her call, not mine. I will go on record saying that isolating a group of kids who are different, completely from everyone else, is just begging for something foul to happen.
Case in point, I give you Zenith. She wasn’t always the confident and cool picture of your modern cottage fixer. I met her when she was still an awkward and uncertain teenager, and the girl needed help. Bad. She’d fallen in with Sahar, one of the local con-artists and knack-thieves. Apparently Sahar went a bit overboard and the end result was Zenith was having spaz-outs worthy of Fey’s hobgoblins on a rampage. What it all boils down to was Zenith thought Sahar loved her, but the little bint just used her. Of course I didn’t find this out for a while yet, as teenagers don’t spill their hearts out to the first teacher they see.
I met Zenith on my way to talk to Mrs. Horton about one of her sophomores who’d come into my class on range Four. I was trying to figure out how to broach the sensitive topic of my being uncomfortable with him making the moony-eyes at me when he thought no one was looking when a coffee pot whipped past my face, from the Poe Common Room, passing my nose by about an inch, shattering on the wall and spraying its contents on the wall, floor and me. I stopped, sort of half-turned and looked at the frazzled blonde girl who was looking at me like a deer into headlights as she realized what she had done.
I was already contemplating mayhem and misery as I spoke to her. “Why for do you throw coffee at my head, little girl?”
Mayhem took a back seat when she didn’t get angry, or defensive, or insanely apologetic. She started bawling, and couldn’t even look at me. Well fuck, being a dick is only fun when someone isn’t already hurting and it was just too easy to tell that this little outburst, for which she knew she was now in trouble, had absolutely nothing to do with me or any desire to be a bitch.
Horton was in the room as well and the sudden onslaught of me apparently was the last thing she’d hoped for. “How can I help you Mister Mahren?”
“I need to talk to you about Skylar Howes.” I looked over at the crying girl, and felt like I was about to chew on something sour. “And, apparently to discuss detention for a student who likes throwing things at my head.”
Zenith wailed and ran to her room.
Horton’s babies are to her, what a mother bear’s cubs are to the bear. She was mad, at me. “I’m sorry, Mahren, I think I’ll handle issues in my cottage myself, thank you.”
I stepped fully into the common room and looked back in the direction the girl had fled in. “What the hell happened Horton? I’m an asshole, but I’m not too daft to see the kid’s too stressed and wigged out to deal with life.”
“Is it really your business?”
“Depends. Likely not, but I haven’t seen a kid in that state since Pauline. What’s up?”
Horton drew back, and sighed. She knew I never, ever invoked Pauline’s name. I hated talking about the girl who died over a year before.
“Zenith had a bad run-in with another student. She thought she was going to be in a relationship, but she wound up getting used, badly. I’m worried about her.”
“Well, it may not help, or it may. Have the kid come see me at the end of the day. I might be able to help her burn off some of the mad hurt.”
“What do you have in mind, Mahren?”
I shrugged. “A type of exercise I learned a few years ago. It’s a type of running that some of the kids might get a kick out of, and give her something else to work on besides feeling hurt.”
“I doubt running laps will make her feel better.”
“Who said anything about laps?” I then darted to the side, ran up the wall two steps, and kicked over to the corner, did a odd spin, and hit the ground. “I don’t do laps.”
Horton gave me an odd, surprised look. “All right, Mahren, I’ll send her your way. I’m telling you right now, if you do more damage…”
“I’ll hand you the knife myself, alright? I’d really rather not drive the girl to suicide honestly.”
Zenith and Breaker were neck and neck, bounding through the woods near the staff parking lot, haling ass as only Exemplars could. They startled two security officers as they dove into the lot, more or less ignoring obstacles by going over them, or under them. Mahren’s truck was their target, and the two of them went over it, Breaker by the expedient of jumping just above the canopy of the truck and using a hand to guide him over, while Zenith vaulted into the bed and kept going, jumping off.
As they passed Shuster Hall, both of them jumped up and ran along the wall for a short distance before dropping back to the ground and angling for the Crystal Hall. The great, geodesic dome was their finish line as the pair poured it on, ignoring the terrain, and dodging suddenly confused students as they tore across the Quad. Chairs, trees, picnic tables, nothing even slowed them as the two utilized any excuse to try and hit that point in their minds that Mahren told them about, when you just flowed and the world became your trail, your playground.
None of the other kids on the Quad really understood the Parkour Hooligans, and then cussing and howls of outrage began as Thrasher and Slapdash erupted from another direction, doing the same thing as the other pair heading towards the Crystal Hall. Zenith and Breaker grinned at each other as they poured on the speed. Zenith and Breaker were a lot more skilled, but what the other two lacked in skill, the Bad Seed boy and the younger Grunt made up for in sheer, furious determination.
Breaker skidded to a halt a few seconds before Zenith, followed by Thrasher, then Slapdash. Zenith grinned at the other three as they all took a moment to catch their breath. Slappy was always the slowest, but then he’d also spent most of his time power-lifting with Mule until about the mid-point of his freshman year. Breaker was, hands down, the strongest and fastest of the four, but that was more because he was one of the mighty Exemplar 5’s that roamed the school. Thrasher was the newbie, having gleefully practiced all summer after Mahren introduced him to the sport late the year prior. And as fitting for a person who could pick up knacks and skills, and her status as the Hooligans’ longest running member, Zenith knew all the dirty tricks and maneuvers that made up for the points where Breaker had her in raw, physical power.
“Good run, Zee.” Breaker gave her a high-five and looked about the area. Check out the weird looks.”
True to form the four of them were getting a mix of odd and dirty looks from the local students trying to move about on their lunch breaks. No one else shared their joy for running like madmen and ignoring everyone - and everything - in their path.
“Yo folks, I dunno about you, but all that running’s got me hungry. So if it’s all the same… Peace!” Thrasher grinned as he stepped inside the Crystal Hall. Three seconds later he popped right back out. “Yo, Mahren’s at the table, with some chickadee who’s looking like she just got detention for life.”
“And History repeats itself, yet again.” Zenith shrugged. “Let’s get food and go say hi to the fresh meat, shall we?”
“Right behind ‘ya Zee.” Slapdash followed her in, and the four Hooligans began loading their trays with eats in preparation to descend upon the unfortunate newbie.
The four students unceremoniously set their trays down at the table they occasionally used as a group, and looked at Aquerna. The young girl looked like a deer in headlights with the Evil Range Bastard standing above her. She wasn’t looking, so she couldn’t see the absolutely happy grin pasted on his face. All in all, Mahren was safer when he was mean. When he was happy he tended to be creative.
Poor Aquerna looked at the four unhappily, and Thrasher shook his head as Zenith glared at the teacher for his usual asshole antics.
“So what you in for?” The Bad Seed asked her, mildly.
Aquerna mumbled something.
“Sorry, didn’t hear ya,” Breaker put in mildly.
The squirrel-Avatar girl sighed. “Apparently it is illegal to run from bullies anymore.”
Erik raised an eyebrow, and Slapdash gave Erik a look. “Dude, with all due respect, you’re a dick.”
“Ya, and?”
Zenith rolled her eyes, entirely too used to dealing with the range psycho. “All right honey,” she spoke to Aquerna soothingly, “believe it or not, you aren’t in trouble. Mister Mahren here likes to screw with people as a matter of habit.”
“I’m not?”
“No, you’re not.” Erik chuckled. “I’ve been running you after school to see what you can do. You’ve impressed me so far, so are you interested in trying some real running at the Boston Parkour Jam this weekend?”
“Parkour…Jam?” Now the poor girl was merely confused rather than despondent.
Breaker rolled his eyes. “Tell you what, we’ll fill you in.” He gave Mahren a dirty look. “All right since this was a gratuitous asshole moment and not a Teaching issue, BEGONE OLD ONE! I banish thee back to the pits of Hell from whence ye came!”
Erik didn’t react the way any of the intently-listening eavesdroppers at nearby tables were expecting. He began cackling maniacally and walked straight into the teachers’ lounge annex, stopping only to write “HELL” in sharpie on the sign by the door.
Erik wandered into the Weapon Bunker on Range Four to collect his materials for the final class of the day, and stopped cold. He had simply wandered in. The Bunker door was open, and the lights were off. The cage entrance was open, and he could hear muffled swearing. It was coming from the Back Cage.
He walked in quietly, and looked back at the Cage entrance, to see Colin Kiehl trying to bypass the complex Devisor system keeping the Cage locked out. Third Platoon in Whateley Security wasn’t high on Erik’s list of favorites, and it seemed like once a month he had to confiscate a piece of dangerous or Inventory-Controlled equipment from their possession, usually violently. In the case of the back cage, however, there were some things back there that he was under explicit orders to kill anyone who saw what was there, unauthorized.
Tempting as it was, he didn’t risk the nearly infinitesimal probability that Kiehl would succeed. He simply rushed forward and slammed an open palm into the back of the Security officer’s head by way of greeting, smashing his face into the Cage door. A kick to the kidney and another to the gut and Officer Kiehl wasn’t in a position to do much more than moan piteously as Erik blithely opened the Cage, and wandered in. When he wandered out he stomped on Kiehl’s helmeted head and jarred the man quite a bit.
Erik checked the class materials he’d liberated from the cage, and looked down at the moaning security officer. “Oh you’re still here? Bad idea.”
Twenty minutes later, Chief Delarose received a knock on his door. “Come in.”
The door opened and Erik peeked in, the unconscious form of a security officer slung over his shoulder. “Hey Chief, I was wondering if you’d seen Buxton and Lieutenant Trout running about today.”
Delarose sighed and simply pointed towards the briefing rooms. “Make sure he gets into the infirmary, would you Erik?”
The crazy marine just grinned and hustled off, Kiehl in tow, whistling to himself.
Erik opened the door without knocking, to see Buxton and Trout going over some reports, as he stalked in and dropped Kiehl on the desk. “I hope I’m interrupting something.” He gave a big ol’ grin at Sergeant Buxton. “Hey Butthole, I thought we had an understanding.”
Trout came around the desk, stalking right at Erik, when he felt the marine’s boot slam into his groin. He fell over like a wet sack as Erik looked down at him, contemptuously. “Sit down, Junior, adults are talking.” Trout let out a high, pained whine in response.
Buxton, a man pushing his fifties with gray in his hair, looked at Erik. “What’s your problem asshole? None of my boys were authorized to do anything in your areas, so why are you here?”
“Because I found your meat sack here trying to access the Cage.” Erik put his fists on the desk and leaned in to talk to the real leader of the Whateley illegal activities division. “I don’t care what your fucking reasons are, Buxton, get this straight. None of your platoon are, or ever will be, authorized to enter my weapon cages. You have the armory here at Kane Hall. You will continue to draw your gear from there.”
“Who the fuck do you think you are Mahren? We are the duty security platoon and as such have full access to…” he stopped as the snout of a .45 caliber handgun appeared in his face.
“See, I don’t think you quite comprehend my position Buxton. The Whateley ranges are a federally controlled NatSec matter. As a result of this, there are two people with the clearances to access any portion of the ranges at any time without interference. I am one, Delarose is the other. You, and your Lieutenant,” Erik gave Trout another swift boot, “may not override me when I say I do not interfere with your activities off the ranges, but rest assured, if I continue catching you fuckers dicking around in my armories and ammo bunkers I will invoke that Security protocol and execute you or your boys on-site. Do I make myself clear?”
“You know Mahren, this is a dangerous place and accidents happe…” Buxton cut off again as Mahren clicked off the safety.
“Buxton if an ‘accident’ or something I even dream might lead to an accident happens, please bear in mind, I’m from Alaska, and we know all the tricks for hiding the bodies. Nevermind you may be an old hat, but you’ve never faced anyone like me before. Keep your fucking paws OFF MY RANGES!”
Erik kicked Trout once more and stalked out, leaving Buxton to shoot him more foul looks.
Erik watched the four kids bouncing around the Quad, much to the consternation and rage of the surrounding students who were swearing profusely. It brought a smile to his face to see them having simple fun driving everyone bugshit crazy. Aquerna watched, trying to take in everything at once, watching each kid in turn as they did their crazy stunts. The girl’s expression was somewhere between bemused and gleeful.
Erik walked up to Aquerna and looked down at the abruptly very nervous frosh. “You interested in what you see?”
The girl nodded slightly.
“You think you can learn to keep up, and not quit on me?”
She nodded again, a bit more confidently. “This is… awesome!”
“Well then, if you want to join the Parkour Jam this weekend in Boston, I’d suggest playing follow-the-leader with Slapdash there. If you can keep up with him, then try Breaker or Zenith. If you’re really slick, sometime you can try to keep up with me.”
Aquerna gave him a bemused look. “Seriously?”
“Why are you still here?”
The Underdog girl cocked her head oddly, grinned and darted off after Slapdash as though her ass was on fire.
“All right Ladies and Chumps, sit down and shut up. This is your reality check class, and I do not intend to repeat myself. You in the back! Dammit I swear to god Missfire, if you and your sister don’t settle down, I’m gonna thump the both of you!” Erik gave an annoyed look back towards the junior class section.
“Tangent!” Betsy Farnsworth could not ever pass up the opportunity to correct anyone on the codename her sister had saddled her with from the real one.
“Ashton, move your wheelchair-rolling ass up front where you can see.”
He waited a few minutes for the classes to settle, and when they didn’t he got irritated. Gunny Bardue and Wilson were both giving him amused looks, daring him to get the kids under control. “Have it your way.”
Erik uncorked the two flashbang grenades he’d prepped and tossed them into the milling throng. He shielded his eyes and ears and waited for the panicked outrage from the students settled down. “If you little snots have finished, I said sit down and shut it!”
Ninety teenage asses plopped down and went silent when they realized he’d collected two stingball grenades from the table behind him. “Oh, I see we can in fact be taught. Ladies and gents you have to sit through this class once a year. Deal with it. If you can’t I have tear gas, too.”
“You can’t do that!”
Bardue leaned forward, “Shut it, Poindexter, you’re on our ranges now. Whateley Student manual doesn’t apply here. Got a problem? Feel free to leave and not come back.”
“If you’re quite through arguing with my boss there…” Erik walked over to a computer and set up the presentation, “we can begin.” He took the remote and stepped forward.
“For those of you fortunate enough not to know me yet, I am Corporal Erik Mahren, formerly with the Marines.”
“Which Marines? The real ones, or the American ones?” The smarmy Brit voice belonged to Myron Westchester, a boy long on mouth and short on common sense.
“Push.” Erik simply pointed to the ground in front of him. “Anyone else have any questions about my qualifications?” As Westchester began his push-ups, Erik helpfully stood on his shoulders, to give the Exemplar-3 boy a challenge.
“Good, now that you are all settled, let me warn you now. I am not Bardue, nor am I Wilson or Smythe. My tolerance for bullshit while I am teaching is miniscule to nonexistent so I would seriously recommend you pay attention. And, as a few of you have already found out, running to Officer McQuiston on Range 2 will only make your suffering worse.” Several kids stifled giggles watching the Range instructor bob up and down with each push-up.
“I am not here because I give a shit about teaching you all to follow the side of light and right. I am here to teach you to defend yourselves if you are caught in a firefight, since most of you do not have enough common sense to run from someone pointing a gun at you.” Erik turned to the display, which was showing a young man, no older than fifteen or sixteen standing in the center of a city street. “This is my object lesson in why you need to take classes seriously. I do not care if you like me. I don’t want your friendship. I want you to survive for as long as possible in a world where over ninety-nine percent of the population will panic and react badly to you when you use your powers. Above all, I will not tolerate any safety violations on my ranges whatsoever. You will not kill yourselves or your peers because of an avoidable fuckup on my watch.”
Erik scowled at the class, most of whom were still shaking off the effects of the flashbangs or scowling bloody murder in his direction. “This is your one chance to escape the ranges and my wrath. The moment you placed this class on your schedule, your parents were made to sign safety waivers absolving the range crews of any psychological trauma we choose to inflict upon you. If you violate the range safety rules and are injured, Whateley Academy is absolved of all liability for your injury. The students you have heard bitching about being disallowed from these ranges are the children of parents who declined to sign said waivers.”
“If any of you have a problem with the fact that not a damn one of us will play nice with you, leave now. If you have a problem following my safety rules on any range, leave now. This is not a democracy and the rules will at no point be negotiated. So if your precious feelings will be hurt when I tell you to pull your head out of your ass, then leave now.”
Erik waited for the allotted time, then looked at the kids with a cold eye. He didn’t like being a complete dick to a bunch of kids, but unfortunately experience had proven that it was the only way to get the kids to take him in particular seriously. He didn’t have Gunny’s bearing that demanded respect, or Wilson’s easy charm. He couldn’t really empathize with them like Cat could, or give the odd comment that could make even Carson stand up and pay attention like Smythe could. He envied them.
He stepped off the grunting student. “Get your sad-sack ass back to your seat before I kick it there.” The boy in question glared at him for a moment before moving back to his appointed spot.
“Now, for those of you who are curious, I served with M-SOC Marine Pacific. This is the Unit organization specifically composed primarily of mutant combatant personnel in the Marine Corps and their support staff. I have a unique understanding of Mutant potential in combat arms operations and in lethal situations. I have served with, and under, some of the finest men and women who have ever carried a Mutant Military I.D. card and can tell you, with utter certainty, that you are not invulnerable.”
Erik noted grimly that some of the students openly scoffed at his last pronouncement, but the open statement of his credentials got the attention of every single new face in the room. “Ladies and gentlemen, I am not here to teach you military application, nor am I a recruiter. I am your reality check. Our subject matter I am showing you today I only show once every four years so pay attention. You are about to see the footage released by various media approximately eight years ago in Darwin, Australia. It’s a little known incident that did not receive the media attention that it otherwise might have.”
“Ladies and Gentlemen, you are going to watch the birth of the Bogeyman. This is where the stories of the so-called Dragonslayers of urban and terroristic legend were first concocted, the footage that started the conspiracy theory.” Erik looked at the kids and willed his bearing not to break at all. He despised that this was part of the Whateley curriculum at all, even if he was aware of the necessity. “The footage quality is shitty, but this is very likely to be the most graphic thing many of you have ever seen. If at any point during the presentation you feel the need to leave the room, make sure that one of us sees you do so, it will not affect your grade, but hopefully it will make you understand that if you choose a combative path you are playing with fire.”
Erik’s voice had carried to the back of the room, but didn’t have its usual, hard-edged psychotic tone. “Ladies and gentlemen, please be silent until the film has ended. And if you feel the need to make smartass comments keep it to yourself and show a little respect for the dead.”
As the lights dimmed and the projector began rolling, showing a panicked Australian News Anchor delivering a frantic special update, Erik walked to the back of the lecture hall silently but rapidly and did not stop until he was outside the building. He went along the wall to the back exit of the building, rarely used by anyone, when the shakes started.
He didn’t need to see the footage, didn’t want to. Just thinking about it brought the whole sordid mess to his mind. He knew the score, a mutant kid had finally cracked. No one was sure what the hell had started it. The stories conflicted horrifically. Erik personally believed that it had been a couple kids picking on the boy that blew the rager trigger. There was no official power classification known, but Erik put the kid at Exemplar 3, with a regen 3. Put him at a Class 3 rager, and the boy’s capabilities had spiked somewhere towards Exemplar 5, maybe six, with a proportional increase in his healing.
The boy’s mother had been the fourth person to die, body shattered nearly in half by a backhand that could have sent a compact car onto its back. Eight police and sixty bystanders had already been killed or crippled when the City officials hit the panic button. Darwin hadn’t had a local hero team, or even any notable hero types to divert or stop the kid. Their military forces were on the weekend, many at home, celebrating Christmas with their families. The only combat-ready force nearby besides the city’s SWAT team was the Marine Expeditionary Unit in the process of disembarking and enjoying a much-needed liberty call in the Australian port.
Erik got tapped, and when the offer to help was made to the Australians, the mixed squad of Recon and Weapons designated “Equalizer” was tapped to respond to the problem and do everything to halt the rager or divert him from populated areas. Equalizer’s successes catching a couple Terrorist-linked mutants in the open and killing them put them in the hotseat.
It took fifteen minutes, the locals weren’t wanting to allow US action on their soil, which wasn’t something the US commanders were willing to argue with an ally. When the Australian Government figured out what the response time would be for their few units or Super-Powered teams, they gave the Colonel commanding the battalion on-site the green light.
He remembered the panicked ride in the five-ton truck between two Hummers, desperately trying to link belts of ammunition together and helping Heckel and Jeckel situate their gear as well. Worm and his recon boys were silent, white as sheets, and knowing that if the shit went south they would be the first casualties. Blackjack and Coppertop checked and re-checked their M-16’s and made sure their grenades were ready, sweating bullets and shaking already. PFC Colton was the only man on the team without a radio call sign, having been tapped from the battalion to replace Wicked, who was recovering from extreme burns he’d gotten in their last oh-shit maneuver. He hadn’t lived long enough for his buddies to get back to Camp Pendleton and run to Bethesda Naval Hospital to visit him.
Colton was the only one who wasn’t praying to God that the nightmare would be over before they arrived, that some local cop would get a lucky shot and put the kid down. No one had told them they were going in to stop a child.
Worm looked up and pushed on his ear, trying to hear what was coming through the short-range comms more clearly. He looked up, and held up two fingers. Two minutes to the combat zone. It didn’t feel right, and it was damn sure risky. If they fucked up they would do more harm to the local civilians than help. Too much was riding on this, and none of the marines riding in black fatigues without unit markings or name tapes felt up to the task.
“First drop point, target in thirty seconds!” Worm was hollering as the truck slowed down. “Hijacker GO! Heckel GO! Jeckel GO!”
Erik and his gun team hit the ground and rolled at ten miles an hour as the panicked Lance Corporal behind the wheel sped up to deliver his payload and get the hell out of dodge. The two Hummers screamed in and began opening fire with swivel-mounted 240-Golf machineguns, putting rounds in the direction of the target. Erik ran forward and put the training Worm had imparted to the test as he scrambled up the back of a city bus and took post there, dropping the four-foot long machinegun onto its bipod and began loading the belt.
Heckel and Jeckel did the same as the truck vomited Worm’s three teammates and they dove for cover along the long roadway. The Rager was barely visible, about a click away, chasing fleeing pedestrians who screamed, ran and died as the impossibly fast young man ran them down and ripped them apart, sometimes tearing open vehicles like sardine cans to get at them. The road was a killing ground, and bodies littered the road, sidewalks, and storefronts.
The Humvees tried to turn and escape, having thoroughly gotten the rager’s attention. One escaped, however the second was not so lucky. The rager leapt from thirty feet away, taking bullets, and landed on the hood, scrambling up and tearing the gun from its mount. The marine at the turret port didn’t even have time to scream as the weapon went barrel-first through his chest like his body armor didn’t exist. It took about three seconds for the other two marines inside, panicked and shooting with everything they had, to die.
Worm was out of the truck, and the driver killed the engine, stopped it and hunkered down. Erik had briefed him. Don’t move, don’t make a sound, try not to breathe any more than you had to. Ragers were attracted to motion. He was to let Worm live up to his name and play bait on the hook. Erik gave a silent prayer of thanks that the kid behind the wheel had followed instructions.
“Incoming!” Worm had turned and was running like his life was about to end almost before the grenade left his hand. His voice carried over on the comm as he began doing things that Erik would have deemed impossible for a non-mutant to pull had he not seen it before. Worm ignored the obstacles between him and the waiting marines, vaulting them, stepping over them, rolling under them as though he’d practiced the run a thousand times.
He didn’t look back, never looked back as he ran. Sergeant Byron White, AKA Worm, formerly of the Battalion Reconnaissance Platoon was the fastest man in the regiment by dint of his extensive training in something he’d told his team was called parkour. Never before had Erik thought that a normal human being could move so fast, much less the skinny little black man who seemed to act as though life itself was something to sleep through when he could get away with it.
Even recovering from the grenade blast the target was less than fifty meters behind Worm when Blackjack and Coppertop darted from cover a few seconds apart. Normal military firing discipline was out the window as the two marines erupted from their hiding places. Staying still and presenting a static target, even one behind cover, meant death. Coppertop ran behind the target, firing one-handed to his side as he ran wildly. Worm ducked behind cover.
Blackjack did the same as the rager turned like greased lightning to react to the new threat. The .223 caliber shells bounced off the boy’s skin like he was wearing tank armor. Blackjack’s rounds impacted along the target’s back, distracting him from Coppertop, confusing and further spurring the target to psychotic rage. It also kept him from reacting to any one threat in a fashion that would allow him to act.
PFC Colton waited too long, and when he moved, he followed Blackjack’s path of attack, when he should have struck from the side. He died brutally, torn in half by a superpowered mutant who was so far beyond human in speed and strength that his life was over before he even comprehended that he’d screwed up, or that the target had even moved.
Worm was all over the blood-soaked monster that had come to kill them, that they had foolishly tried to kill. He fired full into the rager’s face, trying, but not hoping, that he might get an eye shot that would take him down. He was gone and Coppertop continued the cycle from behind as the Recon boys strove to keep the rager in place long enough for the heavies to draw a good bead.
Blackjack was unlucky, pure and simple. He took a glancing hit to the collarbone, and his ribcage shattered like glass. The mutant simply leapt forward and killed him. Worm and Coppertop made one more pass as Erik and the twin brothers he worked with set up the Last Resort charges and set the detonators attached to their LBV’s.
The Rager’s homicidal rage and confusion gave way to an instinctive need to GET AWAY, and when it happened, Heckel opened fire as the two remaining marines dove away. The tracers flew, and nothing was spared in their path. Puffs of red erupted as the heavier rounds drilled through flesh, while the remainder that missed shredded concrete, glass, cars and littered bodies apart.
The rager tried to dart in the opposite direction and Jeckel opened fire, driving the rager back to the center of the road. Even in a murderous fury, some part of the target’s brain registered pain as it sought to flee. When it bolted back the way it came, Erik let loose, tearing holes in his back, and shredding the pavement. The mutant fell, and Erik fought to control the bucking machinegun so he could unload the long belt into the prone form. He’d learned the hard way. Never stop until an enemy mutant was a greasy paste on the ground, or your gun melted down.
A car containing a couple going out for an outing crossed into the intersection in front of the mutant as Erik laid in. Heckel and Jeckel began firing at the same time. The two had probably not bothered to watch the news or listen to the emergency broadcast on the radio, as their CD player blared loud punk metal to the streets and beyond. Windows shattered, doors and fenders seemed to explode and red filled the vehicle as the two people died before they realized that anything was wrong.
For a second, the world went silent as all three guns stopped, far too late to save the lives of the people riding in the car. Six seconds as five pairs of Marine eyes watched in horror. The car jerked to the side and collided with the corner of a building in the intersection. It was riddled with bullet holes like some maniac had gone postal. Six seconds was long enough for the rager to recover and charge most of the distance between himself and the bus Erik was on.
Erik’s first warning that he was in trouble was when the tracers started tearing through the air in front of him, desperately trying to track on the fast-moving form charging right at him. More destruction reigned as the bullets missed their mark and shredded everything but the mutant intent on killing them. Erik began firing desperately, then realized just how screwed he was. He abandoned the gun, scrambled to all fours and jumped for a storefront, crashing through the glass onto the floor, slashing himself open pretty much everywhere that wasn’t protected by body armor. He rolled and scrambled behind the metal counter just as the rager reached the front of his bus.
Erik hit the remote detonator on his LBV, and was knocked deaf and stupid by the explosion of twenty pounds of C-4 on the top of a city bus. Fragments of glass and metal flew everywhere and the shockwave stunned him and his teammates. The top of the bus compressed, and the back end was blown twenty meters down the road, cartwheeling madly at the shock of military-grade explosives.
He didn’t know how long it took him to come to his senses, but when he did he tore his sidearm from its holster and came out of the storefront like a man with a purpose. The explosion had thrown the mutant fifty feet away and bounced him off a car, stunning him long enough for the unrelenting and unholy fury to abate. Heckel and Jeckel were picking themselves up, having been unprepared for the blast, and Worm and Coppertop were trying to navigate the path of destruction towards them.
The mutant was on his knees, upright, looking around with a shellshocked and horrified expression. He was saying something as Erik marched right up and leveled the gun at the rager’s head. He looked up, pleadingly, saying something Erik couldn’t hear, his eye level with the pistol.
Erik pulled the trigger at point-blank range. He couldn’t risk the violence starting again. Had he realized someone was recording the whole, horrific event on camera, he’d have still pulled the trigger. It was only after the fact, when the Equalizer squad began to take stock and they made ready to bug out, that Erik realized he had just executed a teenager.
Erik regained most of his composure and marched back into the lecture hall and paused the video, freezing the grainy image of the rager kid staring up at a black-suited, black-masked killer, looking down the barrel of a pistol. The lights came on and the image was frozen behind him, stark, and cold. He’d frozen it before the close-up of the boy’s death could be shown.
“Does anyone feel any particular need to see this kid’s head blown off at point-blank?” He couldn’t help it. His voice carried his rage and disgust, mostly at himself, through to the assembled students. He also noted that many seats had been vacated somewhere during the showing of the footage.
No voices were raised. A few cocky faces were muttering to each other, but most of the room was white as sheets, many looked sick. More than a few faces showed fear. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is the reality that you all need to learn quick, fast and in a hurry. You are not invulnerable, and the moment you get it into your heads that you are, that you cannot be stopped, and you decide to throw your weight around a little too much, or bite off more than you can chew…”
Erik looked around slowly. “…This cold, uncaring, and less civilized than you think world will kill you.”
Erik looked back at the image on the screen, and shook his head. “Class dismissed.”
He marched straight down to the other instructors, looked Gunny in the eye as he had four years previously. “Have someone cover my classes. I’ll be back on Monday.”
Bardue simply nodded. Five marines had died on liberty during Rager’s Night in Darwin, and most of the marines had been partying when the shitstorm had started. He couldn’t blame Erik for not wanting to relive one of the darkest days for the Marines overseas, even if he’d had no idea that Erik had actually been the one pulling the trigger. He didn’t need to know.
Cat found Erik in the expected state of affairs she was used to Saturday morning, passed out cold, in his little craphole he called an apartment, sprawled out on the couch with the TV quietly running a morning sitcom. It was always the same, and she knew she’d never quite get the beer and pizza nutcase she loved so much to appreciate the wine and roses of life. If nothing else it meant that he saved a lot of money, but sometimes it drove her nuts to see how spartan his existence was.
To be fair, he rarely came back to this little place, usually opting to join her at her small house she owned in Dunwich, or crashing out in the teacher cottages rather than take the hour and a half drive to and from the school. Usually he came here when something rattled him, when he needed peace and quiet to collect his thoughts and stress out madly where he wouldn’t do any damage. The only good sign was the notable lack of open booze containers that usually accompanied one of his retreats from life. However, he still snored like he had a diesel engine shoved up his nose.
“Damn, Miss McQuiston, I always wondered how Mahren kept up the rabid bit.” Zenith looked around with a smirk. “Now I know.”
Cat would have said something mildly reproachful if Erik’s eyes hadn’t snapped open, the chainsaw snoring stopped, and he spoke.
“Who dares speak my name without fear in her voice? And why are there children inside my personal sanctuary?”
“You promised a parkour run today.” Zenith gave Mahren the most glorious, winning smile she could.
Erik craned his neck and looked at the digital clock. “Yeah, in six hours. This does not explain why you are invading my space.”
Zenith gave her most sickening, saccharine-sweet smile. “Payback’s a bitch, old man.”
Erik groaned and got up, looking Cat square in the eyes. “You’re evil. You could have at least waited until I’d gotten a shower.”
“Where’s the fun in tormenting you if I wait until you’re ready?” Cat could do deadpan well, but the happy spark in her eyes gave her away. “The Hooligans are clustered outside, waiting for their fearless leader to take them to breakfast and a bit of sightseeing before the big jam today.”
“Great, feeding a pack of mutants on my dime. I see you’re trying to bankrupt me so I have to default on my lease and move in with you early again.”
“Damn right!” Cat grinned. “Go, you smell. Cleanse yourself, and when you’re done today, you’re mine.”
“Deal.” Erik moved into the bedroom, which thankfully held the bathroom inside, and locked the door.
“I’m surprised he didn’t drag you in there.” Zenith smirked.
“Not with you lot here he won’t. And I’ll thank you to not speculate on things like that.”
Zenith shrugged. “So how long is he going to take?”
“Less than fifteen minutes. Be ready to roll shortly.”
“Okay, I’ll let the others know.” She looked around. “Damn, for all the act he puts on at school I would have expected something more... palatial.”
“Erik’s never been one for fancy. Go. And tell Breaker the seating rules for newbies apply, whether he likes it or not.”
Zenith chuckled as she walked out. She knew Breaker wouldn’t like it, but Mahren was weird about certain things.
“Breaker get your skinny ass into the back seat where you belong.” Erik plopped into the driver’s seat of the school car without warning or ceremony. “Aquerna, up front. I’ll explain what’s up while we drive, after your first run you get to fight Breaker over who’s stuck in the cheap seats.”
“He wins.”
“No he doesn’t,” Zenith offered from the back seat, cheerfully.
“Quiet, heathen junior.” Breaker gave Zenith a mock-glare while Thrasher and Slapdash snickered at him.
“Whipped.” Slappy always loved needling his buddy.
“By girls he’s not dating no less,” Thrasher intoned helpfully.
“Silence from the peanut gallery.”
“Silence? There is no silence, only Zuul!”
“Slapdash, when we get back to Whateley...”
“Come on Breaker, relax man. It’s all easy from here.”
“Easy for you to say, Thrasher, you’re not jammed up in the back seat here.”
“Not my fault you decided to get white-boy big with an Asian body.”
Erik rolled his eyes as Breaker flicked the back of Thrasher’s head, eliciting many chuckles from the Bad Seed Skater punk.
Thrasher turned his attention from the senior in back to the teacher in front. “Dude, it always mystifies me that you can actually figure out normal clothes. I thought you’d eventually meld with the camouflage.”
“And I always thought you’d become one with a concrete wall by now on that skateboard of yours, boy.” Erik chuckled. The day of the Demon-Teacher was over, and Erik surprised Aquerna mightily by showing absolutely no sign of the eternal bad humor she’d come to associate with him in the limited amount of time she’d known him. He was even wearing jeans! Combined with the leather jacket, a Wiley Coyote t-shirt - of said character standing about two feet off the edge of a cliff holding a sign up reading “HELP!” - completed the odd image.
“Yo teach, I think we should fill in the newbie on how this works, she’s looking a bit shellshocked.”
“Yeah, yeah, Slapdash, I was getting to that.” Erik pulled out onto the main road and gunned the engine, hitting the speed limit and coasting toward the Highway. “There’s also a new angle here, one I wasn’t intending to inflict on you all, but I double-booked without realizing it.”
Erik looked around, and clicked on the radar detector under the dashboard. That little piece of illegal hardware was well-concealed, and he revved the car up to its top speed of seventy as he spoke. “Anna, right?”
The wide-eyed girl nodded, watching the road and the instructor, almost simultaneously.
“Here’s what you just got into. Whenever you’re running Parkour with us, you’re a Parkour Hooligan. There are no Grunts, no crazy Poesies, no Bad Seeds, and no Underdogs when we run. Parkour is something I expect you to learn at your pace, at your own comfort level. This isn’t training for school, this is time to cut loose and have fun.” Anna nodded slowly, digesting that information. “If anyone screws with you while you are running parkour, their ass belongs to me. I don’t put up with people screwing with my runners any more than I put up with people being morons at school. I don’t care if it’s some jackass off the street giving you shit, an H1 brat pack, or another student on a Boston pass. This is your time to shine for yourself, and anyone who interferes will be drop-kicked without mercy.”
“The man is serious,” Thrasher cut in, “the local Parkour crew we’re going to run with know us and they know Teach here. Believe it or not they think it’s awesome that he drags students out to play the runner game, even if they know why none of us try to compete, even one-on-one.”
Erik nodded. “Most of the Parkour runners in Boston are well aware that any kids I run with aren’t baseline, and they run the gamut from Laborers, Martial arts instructors, to a couple city cops. However, that being said, I do recommend discretion. They don’t need to know about Whateley, nor do they need to know your real names. Your codenames won’t stand out because everyone runs with a nickname anyway. You don’t need to talk about anything to anyone that you do not feel comfortable with. If anyone harasses you, including a cop, or an MCO chump with too much time on his hands, you make sure you get my attention.”
Anna nodded, starting to relax. “So are we going to run with the crowd then?”
“Only for a bit.” Erik swerved and gently guided the car around a slow-moving truck. “After an hour or two, we’ll peel off and go do our own thing. Not a damn person I know can match your stamina, and I guarantee you bunch can run harder, faster and longer than even the master traceurs who make it look easy.”
“I’m not that...”
“Stop. No self-deprecation.” Zenith gently poked her in the back of the head. “Just because you’re an Underdog doesn’t mean you can’t hang with the big kids. Mahren there is a baseline, and the only one who can come even close to keeping up with him on a Parkour run all out is Breaker. On flat ground every single one of us can outrun him, but this isn’t the junior high gym class.”
“Nope,” Thrasher cut in himself, “this is full body. Coordination, reaction, and the ability to see a good run path is the thing here. Breaker and Zee there can outpower any of us, and leave us in the dust on a normal dig, but you start getting into different types of terrain then each of us has our preferred ground. Me, I’m like Teach, here. I like rooftop and alley runs, Zee there is sort of a ‘wherever, whenever’ runner, and Breaker and Slappy here like crowded streets.”
Anna blinked. “Okay...”
Erik cut back in. “Alright, back to my double-booking issues. A bunch of my buddies like to get together for a run about every six months, and I screwed up and got ‘em in Boston on the same day as you. They’re good guys, for a bunch of unruly assholes who served in the marines.”
“Why do I feel a ‘but’ coming on here?” Anna was actually curious.
“But,” Erik continued, “one of my old buddies has all of the moral fiber of a pile of dogshit. His name is Jerry, and his nickname is Prison Bitch for a reason. I give you permission now to break his arms if he makes unwanted or inappropriate comments or advances in your direction. Once you’re done, tell me and I’ll explain to him, in depth, how I expect him to treat you all.”
Anna did not ask Erik to elaborate. She got the impression that whatever he’d do to his buddy might not be something she wanted to know.
The rest of the trip continued, with the kids joking around, with Erik occasionally joining in. He only had to slow down to the legal limit twice for cops.
“Goddamn, look at all the Parkour chicks!” Jerry Mendez, AKA Prison Bitch, eyed the crowd. The Hispanic name didn’t really fit his terminally Caucasian face, nor did the scowls his buddies gave him seem to register.
“And none of them want you.” Worm looked at the old team’s problem child warily. “And aren’t you supposed to be on house arrest right now?”
“Hey, those ankle bracelets are easy. They’ll never know I was gone.”
“You really are a retard, you know that?” Martin Rockham, or God’s Messenger to his buddies, was furiously texting on a cellphone.
Lieutenant Dom, unfortunately named in honor of a famous Gump-ism, ignored the peanut gallery while he tried to beat the mercilessly cheating Heckel and Jeckel. He knew full well that the two of them could see through each others’ eyes. That still didn’t stop him from trying to beat them at poker.
“Hey Worm, when’s butthead supposed to get here?” Jeckel didn’t even look up from his cards.
“How the fuck should I know? You know how Erik operates better than I do.”
“Deal me in.” Prison Bitch sat down at the small table, only to receive a three-man chorus of “fuck off” and “no fucking way you cheating fuck.”
“Bitch, can you stop trying to be annoying for ten fucking minutes?”
“Hell no Worm, I’d shrivel and die if I did that!”
“Promise?” Lieutenant Cameron Dominguez, and actual Hispanic man, gazed at the frequent offender hopefully.
Worm watched the small crowd warily. He’d already spotted two likely cops in the crowd, and they were both carrying. Some of the others he dismissed as normal berks with some talent. The kid he was watching hardest was a tall Asian kid with too much good looks, who seemed to move like suppressed, greased lightning. He was scanning the crowd like he had a purpose. “Possible trouble over there. Heckel, that guy look like an Exemplar to you?”
The blonde twin nodded. “We’re already tracking two more moving south. Skater kid and a girl who are looking for something.”
“Trouble?” Messenger looked up.
“Doubt it.” Jeckel glanced over. “They aren’t acting like they’re looking for trouble. Check out the girl with the blonde shag. Twenty bucks says we’re looking at a couple Whateley kids.”
“How can you tell?”
“The redheaded space cadet staring wistfully at the electronics store has a Grunts pin on his shirt.”
Worm looked over. “Grunts pin?”
Heckel grinned. “Whateley JROTC kid. They’re called Grunts because the lot of them have a military mad-on.”
“Poor deluded suckers.”
“Amen.”
“Yup, they’re Whateley kids.” Jeckel nodded to himself as he laid down yet another full house, eliciting curses from Lieutenant Dom while his brother grinned evilly.
“How can you tell?” Prison Bitch’s eyes were locked onto Zenith, tracking her.
“Because the Asian kid took one look at you and waved Hijacker over.”
All six of the men scattered about their little area looked over to see the only buzzcut any of them still sported walking toward them with a purpose, the kids converging around him, except for the boy who was still looking at the electronics in the store window.
Heckel chuckled and pointed. “Devisor.”
Worm shouted at Mahren with a big grin, “I thought I smelled something nasty coming my way!”
“I told you not to stand so close to Prison Bitch,” came the return shout.
“Hey!”
Erik came in close to his buddies from the corps, exchanged greetings, shook hands and pounded fists as the seven lunatics came together.
“I see you still haven’t learned better than to play cards with the twins.” Erik grinned as he and Lieutenant Dom clasped hands.
“And you still haven’t done anything to improve your looks.”
“You’re just jealous that I’m sexier than you.”
“Maybe to a blind woman.”
Worm looked over to the four kids lurking nearby, and the one who had belatedly realized that they’d wandered off and was now running towards them. The kid was fast. “So who are the kids?”
Erik looked back at his students and gave a proud grin. “These are my Parkour Hooligans. Bitch, get your eyes off before I gouge them out.” His cheery demeanor disappeared and reappeared as he scowled at the team’s criminally-minded sniper.
Prison Bitch caught the hint in stereo and jerked his eyes off of Zenith rapidly. Buddy or not, if he made a move in the direction of anyone Erik identified as a kid, his life expectancy would be measured in nanoseconds. Erik had already beaten him within an inch of his life once for making Cat uncomfortable, for which he was thankful when he realized that the cute blonde could have incinerated him where he stood in less time than it would take for a bug to fart.
Zenith, on her part, gave the weaselly-looking man a scowl that could have melted concrete, if he’d been paying attention to it. Anna was watching him warily, and put on her fingerless gloves, displaying her rock-hard fingernails that doubled as claws when she needed them to. Erik nodded to the girls once, confirming that this was the guy they had been warned about.
Heckel and Jeckel stood up and gave nods to the kids. Worm just smirked, and began sizing the children up. “You all going to be running with us today?”
“That’s the plan.” Slapdash looked somewhat distracted trying to figure out what model of cell phone Messenger was poking at.
Erik tapped his wayward Grunt on the shoulder. “Parkour now, nerd-out later.”
Slapdash nodded.
Erik looked between the two groups. “Alright, Parkour Hooligans, this is the batch of nutbars I worked with in the Corps before I came to Whateley.”
He pointed to the short, skinny black man who was wearing a pair of jeans and yet another Wiley Coyote shirt with said coyote pressed under a falling anvil. “This is Worm, the guy leading this merry band of refugees from the insane asylum.”
Worm grinned at the kids and smirked. “Good to meet you. I’ll try to restrain myself from giving you all too much blackmail materiel on Mahren here.”
“And me without my notepad…” Zenith smiled winningly as Erik mock-scowled.
“That guy with the cell phone is God’s Messenger, so named because he was the guy calling artillery on our heads whenever we were in the field.”
“Hey I only called danger-stupid once.” Messenger looked at the kids. “Don’t believe anything he tells you. We’re all saner and better looking than he is.”
Aquerna started snickering as Erik continued the introductions. “Lieutenant Dom,” he used his best Forrest Gump voice do to the introduction while the former officer in question gave him the finger, “was an officer, but don’t let that fool you, he’s good people.”
“Bite me, Hijacker.”
Erik looked hurt. “You wound me Sir, I thought I was worthy of more creativity than that!”
“Why? It’s not like you’re smart enough to carry on a conversation involving more than single-syllable words.”
Erik chuckled and pointed at the only man he’d ever met who looked more like a walking weasel than Steve Buscemi or Jobe Wilkins. “Prison Bitch is our sniper type. Don’t give him money, and feel free to kill him if he annoys you.”
“Hey Hijacker, has that giant lump of coal shoved up your ass turned into a diamond yet?”
“So that’s where that Hope diamond wannabe in the Homer Gallery came from.” Breaker grinned as Mahren gave him the gimlet eye.
“Can it you, or you’re gonna be as strong as Stormwolf when I’m done grinding you into the dirt.”
“Much love, teach.”
Erik rolled his eyes and pointed at the last two reprobates. “The twins are Heckel and Jeckel. Don’t bother trying to figure out which is which until you get used to the stink coming off each one.”
“Look who’s talking, oh three-showers-a-day stankbomb.”
“Heckel, when you learn to change your underwear more than once a month you can comment.”
“I’m Jeckel, he’s Heckel.”
“Bullshit, I can smell that cheap-ass cologne you used to sucker Audrey into thinking you were classy from here.”
The twins gave each other an odd look and nodded once. “So which of this lot are Underdogs? I know one of you has to be.”
Anna gave a bit of a start. “You know about the Underdogs?”
“Hell ya,” Heckel grinned, “for four years me and Jeckel were the prank kings of Twain hall.”
Jeckel nodded. “And we were in the JROTC course back when Carson was still the English department head.”
Erik looked at Breaker and Slapdash apologetically. “Fortunately the quality of the Grunts went up after these two left the school. Underdogs too.”
Slapdash grinned. “I would hope so. You all look like poster children for the terminally weird.”
Amid the protests, Mahren finally got everyone’s attention. “All right, gents, the smartass is Slapdash, and he lives up to his name.”
“Hey, my stuff works,” he thought, then amended with “usually.”
“Shaggy back there goes by Zenith.”
“Shaggy?” Zenith’s voice got a dangerous edge. “Shaggy?”
“Beware, for she’s the one most likely to kill me and bury me in a cuisinart on this run.”
“Oh no, old man, there are FAR worse things than death.”
“The tall guy who’s trying not to bust up laughing there is Breaker.” Erik stage-whispered, “he’s not that smart.”
“Smart enough to know I can take you in a wrestling match!”
“Gotta catch me first, beanpole.”
Erik looked at Thrasher. “That’s Thrasher. What can I say? Dresses like a punk, hair like a hippie.”
Thrasher grinned at Erik and immediately affected the glazed, stoned hippie look.
“And this brings me to my last student, who only joined against her will a couple days ago, Aquerna.” Erik smirked at the abruptly shy girl.
“Um, hi?”
“Yup, she’s one of my Underdogs.” Heckel gave Aquerna a nod.
Jeckel reached into his pocket and pulled a key off a chain, tossing it to Anna. “Whitman Hall or Twain, use that on the Elevator and you’ll find the Underdog Sanctuary.”
“I’d forgotten you told me about that what, back in ’98?” Mahren mused.
“How about Boot Camp you tundra-stalking escapee from Santa’s sweat-shop.”
“Kilo Mike Alfa, Jackass.”
“Watch it or I’ll tell them about the pictures of the girl who got away in High School.”
All five kids suddenly looked interested. Thrasher was disbelieving. “Woah, you mean to tell me this guy actually discovered the opposite sex before he became a raging…”
“Watch it boyo.”
“Come on, teach, how can we get a proper education if we don’t listen to all the juicy tales of the previous generation?”
Erik shrugged. “Not much to tell. I dated a mutant my junior and senior years.”
All five kids blinked. “How’d you figure out she was a mutant?” Thrasher looked curious.
Erik grinned. “Let’s just say that mid-range GSD bothers me very little.”
Zenith had to ask. “So where is she?”
“Not a clue. Probably for the best I don’t poke. Cat might kill me.” Erik simply didn’t say that he didn’t want to know. That memory still hurt, even after a decade to calm down. “Alright, enough reminiscing, let’s join the crowd, and kids?”
The five students looked at him innocently. In Anna’s case the look WAS innocent.
“Do not sign up for the competition challenges.”
“Damn, I was hoping he’d forget.” Zenith pretended to be disappointed.
“Not after the first time.”
“What happened the first time?” Worm was grinning.
“She ripped a fire escape off the wall she was climbing not paying attention.” Erik looked at the unapologetic girl, “In front of half the runners and a few cameras.”
“So Mahren, you let them talk shit to you when you’re teaching like they’re doing today?” Prison Bitch grinned, needling Erik and missing five pairs of eyes going wide, heads shaking.
“Yo, Mister Mahren’s cool and all,” Thrasher said carefully, “but if he’s on his teaching game and someone smarts off, the whole class tries to write their last will and testament in the three microseconds it takes him to go nuclear.”
Breaker nodded. “I won’t screw off in class if he’s teaching. One, it’s disrespectful, and me and Deadeye learned that lesson the hard way our frosh years. Two, people who piss him off get booted out of class quick. The lessons he and the other instructors teach have saved lives.”
Zenith nodded. “That, and this isn’t classwork. We all do this for fun.”
Erik smirked wryly. “It helps when I have a couple kids who are smart enough to learn when and where it’s appropriate.” He gave Aquerna a meaningful look. “All right, stretch out Hooligans, the runs begin sometime in the next half hour.”
Heckel sidled up to Erik quietly as the pack of exemplars and one avatar started loosening up. “Good batch of students you got there.”
Erik nodded slightly and spoke quietly. “Yeah. I just hope I can do right by them.”
“You’re doing fine.”
Blood thundered in Erik’s head as he bolted across the Boston roofscape. This wasn’t a competition, but that didn’t stop him from going balls-out to maintain that sliver of an edge he was holding on Worm. He hadn’t needed to worry about Aquerna keeping up. The little lady was fast, and was able to use a few types of body movement that one could never mimic without being the host of an animal spirit that ran on all fours.
The sound of the wind howling and feet thundering on concrete surrounded him, as the two marines led the pack on a wildman chase through the cityscape, eyes searching for safe paths and the markers that indicated where the next leg of the run would take them. He’d already heard epithets from everyone, including the kids, as the pair set a breakneck pace through the concrete jungle, ignoring, or using, any obstacle that came into their path.
Erik didn’t even think as he hit the ledge of the roof he was on and leapt for the sky, coming down hard on concrete and gravel of the roof adjacent and two stories down. Worm rolled beside him as the two came up sprinting. Several crashes were heard as the leaders of the pack of regular baseline runners, as well as all five of his kids hit the deck shortly thereafter. He slid under a pipe while Worm vaulted it before diving off the roof and hooking the fire escape in a cat-catch. He jumped back and spun, catching the fire escape on the opposite side, bounding down to the ground and hauling ass full-tilt towards the wall-mural of Wiley Coyote, the local Parkour mascot face-planted into the wall.
Two crashes sounded out as Zenith and Breaker took the expedient of simply dropping the eight stories and coming up running. For a brief moment they caught, then outpaced the two baseline lunatics, hitting straight running speeds that normally required horses or slow-moving traffic to reach. Thrasher was right behind them, Erik could recognize the boy’s rhythmic breathing pattern from a ways off. Slapdash’s hard footfalls could be heard clearly, as he was the only person doing the run wearing heavy combat boots.
Aquerna vaulted a dumpster just behind them and sailed a good thirty feet before landing palms-first and using her hands to get her feet under her, all at a dead sprint. The girl was breathing hard, trying to keep going but not used to the exertion of even ten minutes of hard running. Erik did a light backhanded swat at Worm and pointed at Thrasher. The skinny man nodded and dropped back to pace the Bad Seed and keep an eye as Erik sprinted forward to pace Aquerna.
A light tap got her attention, and Erik slowed down to a jog. “Take it down a notch kid.” He forced his breathing down a notch, to keep from hyperventilating himself as the girl nodded gratefully. Worm and Thrasher blew past the two of them, rapidly followed by Slapdash and the fastest of the normal runners.
One of the other runners, a man in his early thirties, slowed down to pace them as well. “Everything okay?”
Erik nodded, “Yeah Niks, just working with a new student. She needs to learn to pace herself.”
“Alright, holler if you need help.” The man turned to Aquerna. “Good running little lady, just don’t try to overdo it, alright?”
Aquerna nodded, still trying to gulp down air.
“All right kid, walk, quick pace, put your hands on your head, and try to take deep breaths.” Erik put action to words as the newest Hooligan slowed to match him.
“How do you all go for so long?” The question came raggedly once she stopped trying to kill herself trying to breathe.
Erik smirked. “It’s a trick. You have to find a good run speed, and pace yourself. You’re trying to do everything at once. I know you’re excited, but you do need to start with the basics and stick to them. Build yourself up so that when you do the crazy stunts it doesn’t take the wind out of you.”
Anna nodded, “I wish I could go like Breaker or Zenith. They make it look so easy!”
“Oh no, you’re actually in a better position. You don’t feel invulnerable. Zenith and Breaker learned the hard way when the teacher says stop, they need to stop. Even Exemplar 5’s cramp up hard, and wind themselves. It’s harder, but it happens.”
Aquerna nodded. “How long?”
Erik thought back. “Breaker lasted fifteen minutes the first time.” He chuckled as Anna’s eyes went wide. “Exemplar 5 strong doesn’t mean you know how to use that strength properly. It’s why there’s two different measuring sticks for Exemplars, one before puberty, and one after.”
“Huh?”
Erik chuckled and led her over a ways and explained. “Look, when you’re an Exemplar at fourteen or fifteen you may be able to outpower, out-tough and out-speed any normal adult, but you still don’t have the whole development thing done. Bones are still softer, you’re still growing, and you really only know the bare-bones basics of how to use what strength you have.”
“I’m an Avatar, not an Exemplar though.”
“Doesn’t matter, same principle applies.” Erik pointed at Slapdash in the distance. “Slappy there is rated Exemplar 3, and he can deadlift about eight hundred pounds. That’s whole-body lifting. Once his bones fully harden he’ll actually hit that point where EX-3’s are at superhuman levels. The docs won’t be measuring his deadlift, he’ll be bench-pressing those eight-hundred pounds. Zenith and Breaker can both send a car into cartwheels, but they both started only being able to flip ‘em over on their side.
“So to be considered an Exemplar 5 as a kid you have to be able to lift a ton, but you gotta be able to bench-press the same as an adult?”
“Yep, it’s a bit more involved, but that’s the quick and dirty.” Erik looked over. “You, from what I’m seeing are very likely to be a daredevil type around your junior year, once you’ve hit past sixteen.”
“My powers aren’t that impressive.”
“Fuck that, it’s not how high a rating on your powers that decides what you can do, it’s what you can do with what you have that determines how powerful you are.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Look at it this way, I’m a baseline, and I have thumped the snot out of every single little turd who has come on my ranges throwing his weight around. I don’t have delusions of indestructibility to cloud my thinking. My buddies Heckel and Jeckel out there? Exemplar 1’s, both of them, and I have seen them drop-kick PK-bricks and blasters as a duo during training when we were in the Marines together.”
Anna looked thoughtful. “So how do I learn to do stuff like that?”
“You don’t need to. It comes with experience, but I can show you a few rotten tricks, and so can Ito and Anderson.” Erik grinned. “Besides, you Underdogs haven’t figured out the true meaning of your greatest advantage. Nine times out of ten you outnumber the bullies fucking with you five-to-one.”
“Fat lot of good when that bully can blow up a truck.”
“You’d be surprised.”
“I think I’m good now.”
“All right, let’s start running again, I’ll set the pace, you keep up. Let’s find a good comfort zone for you to learn in.”
Anna nodded as the Range bastard began to slowly pick up the speed, concentrating on pacing herself.
Thrasher caught his breath on the rooftop that Zenith and Breaker had stopped on. His heart was pounding, he was trying to keep his breathing under control, but he felt good. He knew he needed a rest, but wanted to keep going. The two mighty Exemplar 5’s were watching the main pack deviate towards the industrial area, just relaxing. He grinned as he realized it was time to break away from the main group and have that blessed time when Teach took the lot of them to a place where they could all go no-shit balls-out with powers.
He turned to see Slapdash scramble up the ledge, followed by the five faces who hadn’t been pacing him. Worm was standing nearby, grinning and looking around.
“Damn, this has got to be one of the best runs ever.” The leader of Mahren’s pack of loose-nut buddies shook his head. “You kids got no idea just how good it is to get out and cut loose.”
Zenith looked back at him. “You haven’t seen anything yet. Once Teach gets here we’re going to get lunch and then it’s off to find a spot where we can really open up.”
“You’re shitting me.”
Thrasher grinned at the man. “You know Mahren, so you know about Whateley, we get to play full-throttle, powers and all.”
“This I gotta see.”
Jeckel looked out as he caught his breath. “Dude, Pearson’s little bitch boys got nothing on Whateley kids when they want to open up.”
Lieutenant Dom chuckled. “We’ll wait here with you till Hijacker shows up.”
“How’d Teach wind up being called Hijacker?” Slapdash looked at the Hispanic man intently.
Prison Bitch cut in. “Because I’ve yet to see a piece of equipment that man could not steal and turn to his own use. Motherfucker stole a ZSU once and...”
“Bitch, SHUT IT!” Worm barked at his erstwhile compatriot. “They do not need to hear that story!”
“No shit, fucktard, zip it.” God’s Messenger backhanded Prison Bitch upside the head.
The five pairs of eyes were watching the little byplay with deep, abiding interest, and Worm sighed. “Look, don’t mean to get you kids worked up, but there’s some stories we can’t tell. I will say that yes, Hijacker can pretty much figure anything out if he gets his claws hooked into it. When we’re feeling rotten we occasionally call him the mechanical idiot-savant, emphasis on idiot, of course.”
Thrasher chuckled. “Look man, it’s all cool. We all know Teach has some things he don’t like talking about. Hell, it’s not like we all don’t have things we’d rather not have dragged into the open.”
Heckel looked at Thrasher, carefully. “You look familiar. Your dad go to Whateley?”
Thrasher smirked wryly. “Yeah, Dad’s kinda got a rep.”
“Mach-5,” Jeckel guessed.
“How did you know?” Thrasher asked very carefully, as all six pairs of adult eyes locked onto him abruptly, like they were sizing him up.
“You look like him, except you’re a bit more skater punk than he is.”
“I don’t know what’s creepier, that you all know dad, or the fact that none of you are getting weird about it.”
Messenger snorted. “Why would we get to comment on your dad when we hang out with Fucktard McLarceny here?” He jerked a thumb at Bitch.
“Watch it Radar.”
“Damn, you guys sound like some of the groups at Whateley,” Breaker smirked at the cranky batch of weirdos they seemed to have picked up.
Zenith changed the subject. “So do you all have stories you can share about how you got your codenames?”
Worm chuckled. “Heckel and Jeckel over there got their nicks from Mahren. He basically decided they were like the two cartoon crows, only more obnoxious. Neither one of ‘em can spell it correctly though.”
“Who asked you?” Heckel grinned as he lived up to the name. “You’re easy, you just run around in circles till something interesting bites you, Worm.”
“Too bad the cute chickas never bit huh?” Jeckel put in.
Worm smiled and gave the twins the finger. “God’s Messenger got his when he called in an arty strike on our position once, and told us God said no.” He made a fist and popped it open. “Boom.”
“Yeah, asshole I couldn’t hear shit for a week after that shit!”
“Wait, live artillery?” Breaker looked incredulous.
“How did that one go?” Worm did an impression of his buddy, panicked. “M-SOC, Echo-Three-Romeo, call for fire. Fire mission Danger-Stupid! Lock my coordinates and fire for effect!”
“I did not sound like that!”
Jeckel leaned over to Thrasher and stage-whispered, “Yes he did. He shit his pants too, it was fucking motivating.”
Thrasher busted out laughing while Messenger glared. “Oh man, you guys are priceless.”
“We aim to please.” Worm pointed at the lone officer. “Lew-teynant Dahm, there, well his story’s simple.”
“Bastards decided to play Forrest Gump on me.” He pretended to glare, “Do I look like some inbred hick with a lukewarm IQ?”
Heckel opened his mouth and Dom pointed. “Silence from the peanut gallery!”
Zenith gave Bitch the Evil Eye. “Lemme guess, you found him at the pound with the other dogs and made the mistake of showing mercy?”
Worm looked at the teenage girl. “Yup. Bitch, you’re fired, we just replaced you. Congratulations, young lady, welcome to the Holy Order of the Bladed Tongue.”
“Fuck you, Worm!”
Zenith just laughed. “Does this mean I can throw him off the roof now?”
“Sure, but he’ll just bounce back up here. Hijacker tried that already.”
Slapdash and Breaker simply watched, amused at the banter, which was so much like the shit that flew at the unofficially-named Range 6. The Grunts’ hang-out bunker was a frequent location for cussing and testing out their latest character assassination tactics.
A loud clank and some scrambling noises announced the arrival of Aquerna and Mahren as they hauled themselves onto the roof and ran to within three feet of the crowd before stopping dead. Erik was sweating, and the girl was breathing hard. Erik stopped her from doing the instinctive bend-forward to try and breathe, and had the girl put her hands on her head again.
“Erik, you’re slow!” Worm grinned as Mahren just smirked.
“Worm, the party has just started.”
He wasn’t lying.
The kids flowed for the most part. Anna stayed close to Erik, watching mystified as Zenith and Thrasher played a high-speed version of tag in an abandoned portion of the Boston industrial center slated for demolition and renovation. She rarely saw the Exemplar kids really cut loose, but the raw leaps the Exemplar 5 girl performed rivaled her own jumps for sheer distance and power, while Thrasher used frictionless force planes to ramp up his own speed to near-suicidal levels.
Breaker and Slapdash were playing a much less seemingly friendly game, and Mahren’s buddies orbited the two like demented moons, trying to get a better view as the two boys actually went toe-to-toe hand-to-hand whenever they got close. It wasn’t safe to get close either, as the Devisor boy with the flaming red hair erupted in a corona of electrical energy periodically whenever Breaker’s running threatened to overwhelm him. Breaker in turn abused his own point-blank shockwave power to send the younger Grunt into a flying spin on occasion. Glass shattered, steel twisted, and concrete exploded in the boys’ wake.
“Won’t we get in trouble when the cops show up?” Anna was worried about close encounters of the MCO kind.
“Nope.” Erik watched the hijinx like a wolf watching the pups play, from a building high above the chaos. “This area’s actually been leased out to Whateley for Winter Term demolition. We’ll have classes coming out to learn how to drop buildings commercially and navigate dangerous areas, here after Christmas.”
“Cool!” Anna grinned.
“Anna get to it, go play with Zenith and Thrash. I can see you’re getting antsy.” Erik had been watching her like a hawk, teaching her the basics of setting up a good pace that wouldn’t leave her gasping for air.
The girl darted off, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, making a beeline for the others, leaving Erik to watch the chaos. Breaker and Slapdash’s antics were shattering a warehouse office, and sure enough as his old marine buddies dove for cover, the concrete wall nearby sloughed off like dead skin, crashing to the street below. He could see Prison Bitch trying to pace Breaker, bolting along ledges, and running along the wall for short spurts to keep the havoc in sight.
Zenith and Thrasher were both in freefall when Erik looked over, the shaggy blonde simply falling gracefully ten stories, absorbing the shock with her legs to pop up and meet Anna as Thrasher did an odd, side-spinning fall, grasping something invisible like he was doing a stunt on a skateboard the whole way down. The poor squirrel-avatar was practically vibrating with excitement as she popped Thrasher on the shoulder, howling “TAG! YOU’RE IT!”
The chaos continued and one by one, Erik’s buddies, worn out from running, hauled themselves up to his vantage point to watch. Jeckel shook his head. “Damn the kids are getting stronger and stronger each year.”
Erik nodded. “The current crop we have at Whateley, just in six years we’ve tripled the number of Five-Class mutants in all of the categories. It’s getting to the point rapidly where the twos and threes will be the underdogs in the future.”
Heckel nodded. “Well, not that fast, but yeah I can see where you’re going. But really, is it triple the number of high-range kids, or triple the number of kids?”
Erik stopped and thought for a moment. “Fuck all, you’re right. My first year we only had two hundred.”
Worm shook his head, watching the Hooligans group up and start a odd running, sparring, taunting race to God only knew where. “These kids man, scary shit. I dunno how you managed to find responsible ones, but damn, you got some good kids.”
Erik grinned. “Believe it or not, this lot doesn’t have the hero/villain obsession. Maybe Aquerna, but she’s just a frosh. I’ve noticed we’ve been getting more and more who just don’t give a shit about Spider-man morality and just want to get on with normal lives.”
“Great power and great responsibility my ass.” Lieutenant Dom looked at the runners. “Too much shit to stick onto a kid anyway.”
Erik nodded. “Honestly, I like hearing about the kids who succeed on their own, living real lives, who never see a shot fired in anger. No heroes, no villains, just jobs, lives, husbands and wives.”
“Does Cat know she’s marrying a disgustingly sentimental chump?” Bitch grinned as Erik’s fist missed his face by millimeters.
“Bitch, I swear to Christ I will…” Erik stopped as a flash of golden fire erupted from a figure barely seen against the darkening sky. The Minuteman costume and the bulls-eye lantern were distinct, as were the screams of panic from the kids as the light exploded under Aquerna. Breaker caught the girl mid-fall, and the roar of outrage from the other three could be heard clearly.
“Holy fuck! The kids are under attack!” Worm’s shock was evident on his face as he looked around for Erik. He saw that the teacher and the two Whateley Alumni were already at the edge of the roof at a dead run, diving for ways to get to the opening battle.
He was the Lamplighter, the champion-patriot who had defended the city since angry colonists had decided that tea offended them, and had done something about it. Boston was his home ground, and he guarded it like it was his last, gasping breath in this world. He protected its citizenry from those who would oppress and terrorize them. Criminals of all stripe were called to task by his hand, and he savored each time he made the city safer, even if lesser men decried his methods as too violent. Times had changed, but the Lamplighter had not.
The sound of explosive concussions had brought him to the industrial areas, seeking the source of the sound. The area was slated for demolition, and it was entirely possible that the work had begun, but he felt the need to check. If it wasn’t a demolition crew, he was surely not going to allow some idiot to tear holes in his city.
His patrol was what he did at night, ensuring that the city slept soundly, even as he maintained his shop during the day, selling memorabilia of a time when it was understood that freedom came at a high price. Tonight, he had a rare one. Kids, all mutants, playing with powers and little comprehending the dangers involved. The play he could ignore, were it not for the destruction in their wake, punctuated by electrical scorch marks, shattered stone, and handholds dug by too-strong fingers.
The five kids were running around throwing their abilities at each other like it was a merry game at someone’s birthday party. As he tracked the lead one, he mused that they would wind up thinking twice before tearing up the landscape in his city. A few bruises, a knockout, and maybe a busted arm were the Lamplighter’s hallmark on criminals or destructive elements in the city. He was the hero. He wouldn’t bring himself to severely harming even a murderer, unless it couldn’t be avoided. But the destructive play had to stop.
Thrasher was right behind Aquerna, when the energy blast went off just under her as she landed her latest jump. The girl was thrown bodily outward, over the edge and began plummeting towards the hard ground below, limply. He caught a flicker of motion as Breaker dove off the roof after the girl, catching her and twisting so it was his back impacting with the concrete while shielding her unconscious form.
“ZEE, AIRBALL!” Thrasher screamed as he leapt skyward, forming a plane of force under his feet and crouching.
Zenith bounded underneath him, crouched, and slammed her fist upward into the plane with enough energy to kick an engine out of a moving car. Thrasher leapt from the plane as he slowed, coming even with the surprised, so-called “hero”.
“Ground floor, ass whupping and payback department! GOING DOWN!” Thrasher punctuated the last, howling words by focusing his force PK constructs down, and released that focus just above the Lamplighter’s head. The resulting directed shockwave sent the surprised minuteman to the roof below so hard that he crashed through the top two floors.
The normally laid-back sk8r punk of the Bad Seeds didn’t hold with the stress of life. He couldn’t comprehend the driving need of people to compound their lives with more stupidity and mental anguish, so he played, he played hard, and he never looked back. Never had he entertained following his father into the super-criminal lifestyle, but that didn’t alter his sense of how things should be. So the boy whose hands were usually cited as mere threats to decorum, uncovered skin, and the power of virginity, sheathed his palms in invisible energy, less than paper thin and perfectly capable of shearing through titanium steel.
Zenith watched Thrasher drop straight into the hole Lampy had made, and immediately the sounds of combat erupted below. Thrasher was screaming “You don’t treat women like that!”
She dove in after, joined by the bulky Grunt devisor as the two charged straight through the corridors of the building, seeking to join their compatriot and smash that stupid spandex-wearing asshole into a pulp.
Prison Bitch caught the next kid to fall as Thrasher exploded through a window, backwards, arm dislocated and the wind knocked out of him. The larcenous marine simply reacted and caught the boy by the wrist through sheer stupid luck. He ignored the scream and Heckel and Jeckel began helping lower the injured Bad Seed to the ground.
“Motherfucker is hurting my kids!” Erik was about on the verge of going insane knowing his students were fighting someone who was completely out of their league.
Thrasher was set next to Aquerna, Breaker trying to make sure they wouldn’t be hurt more when Lamplighter followed Thrasher’s path, slamming into a brick wall. No one bothered to slow his fall or do anything, as Slapdash rode him to the ground screaming profanity and arcing with his electro-webs while the hero spasmed and shook. All the way to the street.
Lamplighter kicked Slapdash off after they hit, slamming the boy into a wall. The redheaded Grunt was in the throes of a full-out ‘drick parade, unable to stop but - rare among devisors - fully capable of functioning in a fight.
The two crashed together, Slappy having pulled some sort of baton from his clothing that shocked the so-called hero every time it struck, while blasting Lamplighter in the face. Lamplighter was feeling it, and his costume was slashed up in multiple places, with thin traces of blood where Thrasher’s PK blades had gone right through his defenses like a vibroblade.
Zenith and Breaker got ready to jump in if Slapdash calmed down, but he showed no signs of it.
Erik reached to his side and grabbed a fist full of Prison Bitch’s shirt, pulling the man in close. “Take the lamp, Bitch, got it? Your purpose in life is now theft.”
Bitch nodded as Worm and Mahren began marching forward, and the other marines fell in step behind them. The all-out brawl between children and hero stopped when Erik cut loose with his rangemaster roar.
“Whateley Academy, cease fire and STAND DOWN!”
The kids froze in place, even Slapdash, who was muttering threats and imprecation, still sparking not two feet from his enemy, still spitting mad. All three of the ones standing stared at Erik like he’d grown a second pair of nuts from his forehead and the Lamplighter looked at him like he was a piece of shit. Thrasher watched from the ground where he sat next to Aquerna. The teacher and six marines were shucking jackets, short-sleeve shirts exposing their upper arms just enough, moving forward with a purpose, and seven tattoos on right shoulders, all nearly identical, showed to the world.
Thrasher went involuntarily pale. He recognized those tattoos. One he could write off as coincidence, but not seven of them.
Erik marched with a purpose, locking eyes with Lamplighter and growling. “You touched my children, your ass is mine!” The clustered knot of men exploded in seven directions with Worm, Bitch, Messenger, and the lieutenant swarm-dogging Lamplighter, and the bulkier trio of Hijacker, Heckel and Jeckel bounding to high points and following the madness. The four conscious kids looked on with the same thought running through their heads. Those guys were either stupid, or insane.
Cameron Walken was doing his daily rounds as a security guard for the Exetus Corporation holding the district to be renovated. He was mostly the guy responsible for calling the cops if he spotted anything wildly illegal. Graffiti, a bit of property damage, he didn’t care. He was really only there to keep up the pretense that the properties were being properly monitored for their slated winter demolitions. He was happy to putz around in his little security cruiser, safe in the knowledge that nothing ever happened around…
The Lamplighter slammed into the sidewalk next to the cruiser, an odd, maniacal black man clutched to his back whooping insanely while wearing a Wiley Coyote T-Shirt. The absurdity of the scene wasn’t lost as the little black man rolled away and kept going as another two men shoulder-checked the staggering-to-his-feet superhero into a brick wall then bolted as well. The Lamplighter’s Minuteman costume was torn up, though the man himself looked none the worse were it not the anger writ plain as day on his face.
Cameron slowed the car and watched, half-horrified, half-bemused as a larger man, blonde, blocky, with a crewcut, darted to the side and ran along the wall a few feet before kicking off and knocking Lampy over again. Cameron was watching the impossible, a group of people getting the best of the city’s premier superhero! The morbid fascination was still with him as the Lamplighter abandoned the ground and took to the sky, and the knot of crazies harassing him disappeared up fire escapes, around corners and in one case, bounding back and forth upward between two close walls.
It was like the circus had come to town early, and the acrobats went collectively insane.
Cameron serenely considered getting out and helping Lamplighter, but decided against it. After all, superhero disruptions weren’t in his job description.
Worm was having a grand ol’ time. His blood pounded as he bolted away from Lamplighter, diving across an alley to swing around the corner of a building faster than the flyer could maneuver, abusing leverage like it was his job. He swung up and hooked into the grating of the fire-escape above, and hauled himself into an upside-down crouch, grinning. Lamplighter came around the corner and stopped, staring at the upside-down man incredulously when Worm, the bait man laughed and pointed to the sky, seemingly below him.
Lamplighter looked up only to have over a hundred and eighty pounds of Prison Bitch land on his face, driving him to the pavement, shouting “MEEP-MEEP!”
Prison Bitch rode the hero to the ground, stopping a couple stories away to do a cat-catch and scramble back to high ground as the lamplighter managed to recover his fall before crashing into the dumpster below. Dammit! So close!
He looked around and then spotted God’s Messenger and grinned, bolting upward and over to hit an adjacent roof. The speed came on, and through all the pounding in his skull he could SEE, as though the cityscape were mapped out before him, a tricky jigsaw of leaps, climbs twists and slides taking him wherever he wanted to go. A jump, a roll, running along a billboard then leaping to the next building gave him just enough time as Messenger prepared to declare the Will of God for the hero of Boston.
Just a bit further…
He bounced and rolled as the energy blast exploded near him, throwing him over the edge of the rooftop. It had been about six years since he’d even thought about doing this kind of idiot attack on a super-powered asshole, but old reflexes beaten into him by Worm, Heckel, and Jeckel kicked in as he somehow managed to roll with the blast and catch the ledge. He dropped and chose an alternate route, one so clustered up with obstacles and detritus that it would be nearly impossible to blast him again as he dropped on to the building’s roof a story below and ran.
He was having trouble keeping up the pace and as he saw his teammates cross into his view he poured on the speed. God’s Messenger had gotten ahead of him. Perfect. Unfortunately the Lamplighter was right behind him, charging up that stupid toy of his. Not so perfect. He ran like a bat out of hell to reach his teammate so he could catch a breather.
God’s Messenger grinned tightly, damn close to pissing his own pants. Of all the team, he was the most skilled in close fighting, but he’d only been on three missions like this back in the corps. While it was a respectable number given the opposition, he’d never done the fighting in close before. As his ass puckered with fear he counted the steps till Prison Bitch darted past, waited two seconds then swung the pipe clutched in his hands around the brickwork he was hiding behind.
Lamplighter did an odd, reverse somersault, crashed to the roof, and stopped rolling with his upper body hanging out over the street below. The energy blast he’d been targeting at Bitch flew wide and struck a warehouse, cracking the concrete with concussive force.
Lamplighter began to push himself up as Lieutenant Dom bolted in and prepared to deliver the Boston hero to the Kill Box. Dom slid under a series of pipes and came up running.
“If my spare should fail me too, I’ll hit the deck before you do!” The former officer sang as he jumped and put both feet onto Lamplighter’s head, driving them both over the edge. His head rang as the superhero flung him off into a wall on the way down. Lamplighter recovered and hovered a few inches off the ground. Lieutenant Dom hit concrete awkwardly and tried to roll, howling as he hit wrong and damn near broke his hip.
Erik fell right behind, catching the lower part of a fire escape and using it to swing like a pendulum, driving his feet into Lampy’s face and putting him into the closest wall. He dropped to the ground to check Dom while his two Exemplar 1 buddies hit the minuteman from both sides, each wielding a piece of rebar they’d come up with.
Heckel slammed his rebar into Lamplighter’s face, rocking the hero’s head back, but accomplishing little more. Jeckel attacked the arm carrying the ancient lantern and tried to get it away. Jeckel went flying as the lamp pulsed, flinging him in a nearly-uncontrolled roll out towards the center of the road. Lamplighter grabbed Heckel and tossed him away like a rag doll before facing Erik.
Erik just stood there, glaring as the costumed nutbar raised the lamp and focused angrily.
“Meep-Meep!” The cry came from two sides as God’s Messenger and Worm hit Lamplighter from the sides. The man was damn close to invulnerable but that didn’t make him any heavier. Worm hit his knees and Messenger delivered a textbook jump-kick to the hero’s head, sending him spinning out, briefly confused and shaking his head, as his opponents, the Bogeymen of the mutant world, refused to allow him to focus his power again. Erik kicked him in the chest before he hit the ground again, driving him back into the wall, and the Dragonslayers bolted, darting in and out of the alleys while their opponent tried to process the fact that even with all his power, he was only holding a stalemate.
“Erik we can’t keep up this pace man, we need a breather or a way out,” Prison Bitch howled from above.
“We can’t outrun him, Worm rally up. I’ll keep him occupied! Pull your heads out of your asses and get a plan!” Erik turned and doubled back, using a wall to alter his course drastically before ramming back up to full speed.
“Jesus Christ, man, how does he keep going? I’m having a hard time keeping running!” Messenger shook his head as the Dragonslayers, six years out of the game, stopped to catch their breath.
Jeckel shook his head. “If you knew what Whateley was like for the teachers you wouldn’t be asking that, mano. Erik has to be on his A-Game just to keep from getting eaten alive by the kids.”
“Fuck, how long can he keep going?” Prison Bitch was gasping.
“It’s Erik. Once he gets angry he’s gonna keep going till he gives himself a heart attack.” Worm shook his head, not quite breathing so heavily.
Erik’s feet pounded the ground, hard. He didn’t even think about what he was doing as he bull-rushed the Lamplighter, who had stepped around the corner and was raising his lamp towards the Whateley teacher. It was like time slowed down as the adrenaline kicked in hard. He ran to his side at fifteen feet, jumped, and ran along the wall, allowing momentum to carry him until he kicked off, driving his boot into the superhero’s face and tossing him over… again. Erik kept running.
Lamplighter may have been a powerful hero, but he suffered from a severe lack of actual training. He relied too much on the raw power the lamp infused him with, so he was far too direct. He stood in place, hovered, telegraphed punches, and did everything Erik ever taught his kids not to do. The Lamplighter was also angry. These little flybites wouldn’t stand still and fight. Rather like a big kid in the schoolyard, Lamplighter depended on simply being the biggest kid on the block.
He wasn’t used to the little kids being unafraid of him.
Erik powered off a wall and began leaping to a catwalk when the hero caught him, grappling him in midair. He felt himself being raised as he wriggled like a worm as the Lamplighter caught hold.
“You’re done, give it u…” Lamplighter stopped mid-warning as Erik snorted and spit a booger straight into the back of the hero’s throat. He did the instinctive thing and dropped the man, trying to fish the offending gunk out before he swallowed it, repulsed and gagging like he was going to barf.
Erik hit the ground running again. He wasn’t trying to fight, he wasn’t trying to win. This was being chased like a dog by Wilson, only harder. He knew it was on when Lamplighter’s shriek of absolute, disgusted rage rang out in the Boston sky. He could only hope the other Dragonslayers could get their shit together before the Hero of Boston could kill him.
“Dude, that is some crazy shit.” Bitch was horrified. “Remind me to never piss Erik off again.”
Worm snorted. “I’ve been telling you that for years.” He was tracking the man moving like a madman helter-skelter in a ferociously mad non-pattern that didn’t leave Lamplighter many chances to fire. The times Lamplighter got close enough to strike, Erik threw himself in the direction of the attack, rolling and bleeding off the killing force the hero could throw, but Worm would be very surprised if when all was said and done, Erik was still able to walk.
“All right boys, on my lead. Swarmstomp time. Jeckel, Heckel, and Messenger, you’re playing heavy. The rest of us Swarm.”
“Who’s the bait, mano?” Dom was limping even as he ran, gutting back the pain for his buddy, even if he knew he wasn’t going to be much use to anyone later.
“Hijacker.”
The six men threw themselves forward, running hard to get in a position and praying Erik had the presence of mind to start doubling back. It had been two minutes, more than enough time to get killed. As they ran Worm picked the spot. “Here’s the new killbox. The lamp goes in that dumpster. Messenger you’re on reserve, soccerball special. Once we have the lamp away from him it’s on like Donkey Kong.”
“And if we don’t get the lamp?” Prison Bitch had to ask.
“Been okay knowing you, Bitch.”
“Eat me you sorry sack of… fuck incoming!”
Erik had leapt off a roof ahead, using the leading edge of Lamplighter’s concussion blast to carry him further. It took him too far as the biggest man on the team fell three stories, tumbled and knocked himself senseless. The battle began in earnest around him when he finally remembered where he was, and what he’d been doing.
Thrasher came stumbling around the corner a few feet behind Breaker and Zenith, trying to follow the whirlwind fight through Boston. His ribs hurt like hell, but he kept trucking, wanting to see the end result. He’d never seen any kind of hit and run fight like this save once in his entire life and it was morbidly fascinating, even if it brought back terrifying memories of black-clad, masked men carrying guns, and bouncing off the landscape like madmen.
Lamplighter crashed to the ground on the street, and the three men circled, darting about, not letting themselves be hit by the confused and angry hero. The cuts Thrasher had given him were gone, the signs of the kid tearing the hero up before had healed without a trace even if the costume was still slashed up. The two twins of the group came crashing through when Lampy’s attention was on the three walking, dancing, maddening distractions.
Heckle and Jeckel hit high and low, from in front and behind, slamming the Lamplighter to the ground. It was hard to believe the two weren’t really extensions of the same being as the hero kissed concrete again. Messenger erupted from seemingly nowhere and did a leaping stomp that finally crushed the ailing minuteman hat on Lamplighter’s head, ramming his face into the ground.
Prison Bitch took a moment of the confusion to dive. The weaselly man lived up to his larcenous reputation and used the confusion to twist the lamp out of the hero’s hand and toss it straight up. “Messenger you’re on!”
The Dragonslayer radioman jumped and did a flying kick before the lamp could defend itself, sending it caroming off the wall to crash into the dumpster. Heckle darted over and slammed the lid down.
Mahren was there roaring with fury, and he kicked out the knees of the hero, and punched him in the back three times before putting the man in a half-nelson, reaching into his pant leg above his shoes and brought the Ka-Bar knife up towards the minuteman’s throat. Lamplighter, powerless without his mystic lantern, was using both hands to keep the angry man from driving the blade at his throat, head twisted away awkwardly. The blade inched closer with agonizing certainty.
Thrasher forgot the pain, forgot that he was injured as he bull-rushed forward. The final piece of the puzzle clicked in his mind as he saw the intense, angry blue eyes, the set of the jaw slightly distended and locked to look like the man had an underbite. Mahren was going to kill the Lamplighter, and Thrasher could only see the face of the man who’d almost killed his father, recognizing him for the first time without the black mask that covered all but his eyes and mouth.
“Teach no!” Thrasher had to keep Mahren from killing that man.
“Daddy, no!” Erik tightened his grip, glancing up to see the eight-year-old, wide-eyed and terrified at the man who’d caught his speedster father after having run the man through a death maze of mines and booby traps. He’d finally caught Mach-5, the man who got faster as his opponents stepped up the pace, and now, he realized he was about to drive a knife into a man’s throat, in front of his son.
The boy was braver than anyone the angry, battle-fatigued marine had ever seen, rushing forward and trying to tug on his father’s arm and get him away from the bad man with the combat knife, twisting his father’s head so he couldn’t get any leverage save to keep the knife from going deeper. Erik’s arm locked, frozen, watching the child.
“Nathan run!” Mach-5 loosed a hand as he realized the blade wasn’t coming in so hard and tried to push the child away. “Get out, now, RUN!”
“No! I’m not leaving without you! Leave my daddy alone!”
Erik twitched. He couldn’t do it, not like this, not with the kid watching. Anywhere else and Mach-5 would be dead in a gutter, drowned in his own blood. Erik couldn’t do it with the man’s child watching. He couldn’t take the kid’s family while he stood witness.
Erik wrenched the man’s head back pressing blade to skin and began whispering.
“Your son just saved your life, fuckstick. You have ten seconds of life, and you will use them to take your boy and run. In ten seconds I WILL come after you so get your child to safety. And you will never, ever touch military assets again, or we will hunt you like a dog, and not even your boy will keep me from killing you.”
Mach-5 nodded, and as soon as the pressure slackened, darted forward and picked up his brave little boy and ran. He’d never run so hard, so fast or long in his life, the killer’s howled words chasing him.
“Take the boy and run you fucker! Run!”
Erik looked about, disgustedly. He’d blown the op, but his team was all alive with nothing but bruises. Mach-5 wasn’t a murderer, but he’d stepped over the line.
Even so, no child should ever have to watch someone die.
None of the Dragonslayers stopped Thrasher as he stopped in front of the grappling men and put a hand on Mahren’s knife hand. He looked the teacher in the eye. “No man, you don’t want to do this. I know you, you’re better than this. You don’t have to do this.”
Erik slowly focused back into reality, staring into the ice-blue eyes of his student and all he saw for a brief instant was the face of the boy who’d tried to save his father. He nodded once, slowly, then slid the knife back into its sheath and pulled the pained man into a full headlock, forcing him to look into Thrasher’s eyes.
“Look at him.” Erik snarled into Lamplighter’s ear as the now-powerless hero tried to wriggle free. “I said look at him!”
Erik roughly jerked Lamplighter’s face so he had to look at his unlikely savior. “Remember that face, asshole. That boy you attacked without provocation just saved your miserable, arrogant life.” Erik roughly shoved the Boston hero to the concrete, pressing his face to the ground. “You may think you’re some big hero, but you assaulted my children. I swear by all that is holy if you ever touch one of my students again I will end you. I won’t warn you, I won’t challenge you. I will kill you and run your precious lamp through a fucking hydraulic press. Do you understand me?”
The Dragonslayers watched dispassionately as the man nodded.
Thrasher breathed a silent prayer of thanks as Mahren did nothing more than make a dragon-eye fist and drove it into Lamplighter’s hip, causing the leg to knot up in a charlie horse that would keep him from moving too quickly. The other kids clustered around somberly, Aquerna awake and braced against Slapdash to keep from falling over.
Worm nodded once. “Alright Hijacker, he walks for now.” He looked Thrasher full on and nodded, for the first time with something deeply resembling respect. “You got some good kids here, man.”
Erik simply nodded. “Let’s get back to the school.”
“Shouldn’t we call an ambulance?” Zenith looked at Lamplighter like he was a frog being dissected.
Erik shook his head. “There are limits to my goodwill and charity. Besides, once he fishes his crackerjack prize out of the dumpster, he’ll heal. Let’s be gone before that happens. I’m not in the mood for round two.”
Thrasher put a hand on the Range Instructor’s shoulder. “Thanks, Teach… again.”
Erik nodded slowly as they all began walking towards the school car several blocks away. “Thrasher…” he shook his head, then settled for squeezing the Exemplar boy’s hand with his. “It’s gonna be a proud day when you graduate. You’re gonna be a better man than I am.”
“We’ll see Teach.” He looked back at the moaning form on the ground. “Let’s just go home.”
Elizabeth Carson hadn’t bothered with decorum or keeping up with appearances as she ended her flight at the Whateley Quad, slamming down on the ground with enough angry force to crack the pavement slightly. She’d gotten the call at home, while she was trying to relax, that Erik’s kids had gone into the infirmary. The Parkour Hooligans had been out at Boston, and she’d thought he was responsible enough to keep them safe.
She saw Erik on a bench, outside the infirmary with a bottle in hand, blithely ignoring the “no booze” policy on campus. Her tirade stopped mid-motion before it started as the ex-marine looked up at her. His face was covered in bruises, his left eye swollen nearly shut. The man’s hands were a ragged criss-cross of cuts and scrapes, and he looked very much like he was trying not to move.
“I didn’t do it.” He tried to be a smartass then started a wracking cough. The man was shaking uncontrollably.
“What happened, Erik?” Carson was instantly concerned. He wouldn’t have been this torn up under normal circumstances, and as he moved she heard creaking and popping that wasn’t normal for him.
“Lamplighter happened. Decided that the kids were misbehaving in his city.”
“And you fought him?”
Erik nodded. “Kicked his throwback ass too.” He took another swig off the beer he was holding. “Thrasher’s the one who kept me from cutting his throat when we got him down.”
“You led my children into combat with the Lamplighter?”
“Nope. I led my old team into combat with the Lamplighter, we were all at the Parkour Jam.”
Carson stopped, and blinked.
“Kind of ironic, the bogeymen protecting the mutant kids, ain’t it? I think Thrasher picked up on us, but he’s the only one.”
“What do you propose we do about that, Erik?”
The big man shook his head. “Nothing. Bound to happen sooner or later, Carson.”
“How did he figure it out?”
“Because he saved his dad the same way before I left the Corps.”
Carson chewed on that slowly. “And do you think Thrasher will talk?”
Erik shrugged. “Thrash is a good kid, he’ll do what he thinks is right. As to the rest, the Dragonslayers need to stay out of the game. The Bogeyman needs to die, one way or another.”
He got up. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with some industrial-strength painkillers to go to.”
“You’ve been drinking.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time, Carson.”
Jacob Thurston slowly undid his tie. It had been a productive day working the stock markets. He’d decided it was safer to play with money long ago when his secret life as Mach-5 had put his family in danger. He wasn’t the best of men, but he’d tried to do right by his family and raise his children well. Jaqueline, his wife, was already waiting in the kitchen for him to come help cut the vegetables, while his youngest daughter Jasmine rolled around on the carpet in her walker, bouncing off of everything in sight as only a rambunctious toddler could.
He was on his way to meet his wife when the phone rang. The caller I.D. showed only W.M. It was the special ID code designating Whateley, Melville. Nathan was calling. He picked up the phone, smiling. “Hey, son, how’s school going?”
The teenaged voice was cracking, a legacy of puberty that followed every young man through his later years of school. “Heya dad, I just wanted to call and talk to you.”
He caught the inflection. “What’s wrong, Nate? Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine dad.” His son paused as Jacob listened, concerned. “Nothing you need to worry about. I just wanted to hear your voice.”
“Well I’m right here, son. I’ve got all the time you need.”
“Thanks Dad. It’s just really good to hear you, ya know?”
“Nathan you know you can talk to me right?”
“Yeah, I know. Just not about this, just this once dad, I just want to talk. Just let me ramble for a bit, okay?”
“Yeah, sure, anything.” His son’s voice sounded weary, worn out, shaken. Jacob was concerned, but he knew that if something was really wrong, Nathan would tell him.
“I just wanted to let you know that I love you dad, and I’m glad you’re still going to be there when I come home.”
“Yeah, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be here when you come home…”
Jacob settled down, and patiently listened to his son. Even when they didn’t tell him everything that was happening, Jacob Thurston always made time for his children.
~Fin~
And in the fury of this darkest hour
We will be the light
You've asked me for my sacrifice
And I am Winter born
Without denying, a faith in man
That I have never known
I hear the angels call my name
And I am Winter born
Within this moment now
I am for you, though better men have failed
I will give my life for love
For I am Winter born
And in my dying
I'm more alive, than I have ever been
I will make this sacrifice
For I am Winter born –The Cruxshadows, “Winterborn”
Joe Gunnarson
By Joe Gunnarson
November 3rd,
somewhere in the vicinity of Twain Cottage...
Ahhh, coffee, my first true love, my hope, my sorrow, my one chance of not falling asleep in Professor Zalman's Advanced Physics class again. It giveth me strength, it maketh me hyper. It insulates me from the outraged shriek Razorback lets out when he realizes I exchanged his sketchbook with a cunning replica, complete with pictures of my own devising. Oops. Time to get to class, damn look at the time. Maybe I shouldn't have put the one of him humping a sheep in there. Or maybe I should remember that drawing blind is not the brightest of maneuvers. For all I know I left him with a perfect replica of the goddamned Mona Lisa.
In thirty, make that two seconds I was going to have a half-asleep and irate lizardman crawling up my ass. Time for my cunning escape plan! I noted the sour looks of my fellow Twainites and grin. There he came, right on schedule, two-hundred plus pounds of... Shit I'm monologuing in my brain again, if I didn't know better, I'd think I was Dricking out.
I reached in my pocket and tossed my patent-pending (when hell freezes over) Razorback deterrent on the ground and PRESTO! A cloud of foul-smelling gas gauranteed to sooth even HIS savage beast. Unfortunately all was not well with the world, as the damned thing exploded in my face as I began the toss, dropping me to the ground covered in a sort of quick-dry rubber cement I'd of course HAD to make work in the cold.
CURSES! Foiled again! Or was I?
Razor stopped a few feet from me and just stared. My fellow freak house interns were all pointing and laughing at the poor, helpless devisor caught in his own trick and at the mercy of his best friend. Woe is me. In case you wonder, I care a lot less about what happened to me and more about the results.
In any case, Razor just stood there with this slack-jawwed stunned look on his face, then started that seal/velociraptor hybrid bark of his that we all had come to recognize as laughter. He stood there, all scales, spines and other myriad sharp, pointy bits that was the picture of him and just laughed.
"Ok Razor, fun's fun. Help a guy up, would you?" I thought it sounded perfectly reasonable.
When he finally got himself under control he signed at me, -Ok I'll help you.- Never a good sign, that.
He reached around and unzipped my backpack while I thrashed mightily, or I would have if I wasn't just another mildly pudgy, slightly overweight kid in a school full of exemplars, avatars and all manner of other things that would readily render me into gooey paste if I pushed too far. He relieved me of my pilfered booty, the sketchbook, not my ass. Get your mind out of the gutter, you're blocking my periscope.
Finally, after a great show of paging through the book, making sure nothing was missing, my gallant friend reached down to... Oh the bastard. Magic marker on a helpless opponent is NOT cool! I squirmed, I shimmied, I did everything I could to jack up his aim. In any case, whatever he was drawing on my face could only have been made worse by my thrashing, all while the other twainites were guffawing and having a grand old time at the Jericho's expense. Yes, the Jericho speaks in the third person when he finds it annoying to others.
Razor looked down upon me and gave a satisfied chirp, then darted off, leaving me to my gooey fate. He's not a bad guy, although I'm not quite sure EXACTLY what he looks like. To me he's a large mass of vaguely raptor-shape with lots of spines , claws, and inch-long fangs. He also prominently displayed a warning armband and tracker that served to tell security where their worst ultraviolent was at all times. If ya want more detailed information ask Diamondback, or go look at him yourself. My mutie-vision doesn't come in technicolor. It DOES however come in a full 360 degree arc including above me, which was pointed somewhere in the direction of Dickinson.
Once the crowd had dissipated I palmed the solvent canister and began spraying, reducing the glue to a thin ball of inert foam and not even damaging my heinous wardrobe. How is it heinous do you ask? Simple, my clothing is carefully selected so I do not have one single item that has any possible fashion value when combined with any other item of clothing I own. My eventual goal is to cause mass-suicides in the male modeling industry. That and it draws attention from the fact that my two best friends are some of the most heavily GSD kids at Whateley Academy.
A quick dust-off and I'm off to the Crystal hall to loiter, ogle the women without them knowing it, and generally be a pain in the ass. Oh, food. I almost forgot. If I don't get there before the bricks and energizers, or, god forbid, Razorback and Diamondback I'll wind up starving. It's happened before! Scout's honor! I don't bother wiping away Razor's facial art, after all. I can't look in a mirror anymore, so I don't have to look at it.
A quick shortcut across the Field of Pain, AKA the woods between Twain and the main area of campus, and I see the great Geodesic grey-golf-ball-thing they call Crystal Hall. Ok so there's no color in my world. I'm blind. My eyes don't work right since the pupils and Irises just faded away, leaving me with a pair of white ping-pong-balls in my sockets. I got this esper thing going on, or psychic trick, I think. It lets me percieve everything around me all at once, out to about where normal peoples' sight fails, and in great detail.
It's great if you don't mind losing out on the simple things in life such as reading without braille, being able to look at a computer screen, read nudie mags, the usual teenage guy stuff. And people wonder why I'm fucked in the head. YOU try looking at a girl, seeing her features in what your mind translateds to slate grey shades based on texture. That will fuck with your noggin trying to figure out I gaurantee.
Inventory check... Cane with Force-Prod, check. Datajack still implanted, brains not exposed, check. Med scanner and emergency medical kit of my own devising, check. Various and sundry small items deliberately designed for maximum prank value and/or backfire potential, check.
Backfire potential you ask? Well friends pull up a chair and allow me my soapbox. Fine the milk crate will work but it just feels wrong. I am a devisor, an explorer of possibilities, a pioneer of science, a maker of widgets that go boom. In other words, I'm just another crackpot mad scientist type in a school with an overabundance of mad crackpot scientist types. Devises built by us are notoriously unreliable and tend to malfunction catastrophically, and often amusingly. It's tradition by God!
Unfortunately I am cursed. My wonky toys always seem to want to work, so in order to fit in, I must devise newer and better ways for my inventions to malfunction amusingly, like the glop grenade I hit myself with. You think that was an accident? Hell no! Razor and the other Twain kids are in desperate need of a good laugh after Halloween Night, three nights ago. I mean, Jesus Christ, damned near everyone's illusions of safety were shattered like a crystal vase under a boot.
Enough depressing bullshit. I was engaging in my favorite activity outside the crystal hall, panhandling, when I sees the Alphas of all people walking into the hall looking ragged. They look like they've been through hell. Of course with Jericho-vision, everyone looks like they're going through hell in the morning. Ya know, I would LOVE to see a few of them trapped in an invulnerable cage with Razor while someone plays Barbara Streisand music. The carnage would live forever in legend.
Nah, I couldn't do that to Razor, he's too cool. After all, even I won't inflict Streisand on anyone. Never mind sticking him in an enclosed space with the Alphas.
So's I'm sitting there on this bench, sunglasses, white-colored (theoretically) blind bitch cane, coffee mug held out to passers-by when I noticed a bit of a commotion over by the ... oh it was just the other freshmen ogling the Kimba girls. Talk about a real overrated crock of shit. The Kimbas got the Alphas into detention, I will give kudos where kudos are earned, after all. However, unlike the Alphas (unfortunately) the Kimbas are just the flavor of the week. pretty soon someone will top them for haywire shit and they'll fade back to obscurity. I read the history of Whateley, and pay attention to the upperclassmen. Groups like Team Kimba come in cycles. They arrive, they get lucky, they pull off something slick, then they relax, only to realize three years later that they're still living the old glory that got them noticed for fifteen minutes.
Maybe I'm wrong. Who knows? I doubt it, although I would rather see a pack of hyperactive girls at the top of the Whateley pecking order than the Alphas any day. Or the Betas, have I mentioned that Stormwolf is a sanctimonious twit most days?
Anyway, so as I was sitting there outside panhandling, realizing no one's dropping the traditional coinage in my mug, and realizing that Security's coming to see me about my beggar behavior... I decided to go have Breakfast with my gooood friends. Hey. They're freaky, but they're mine. Touch them and I'll eat you.
Sandra and Jack are both at the table when I arrive, signing to each other between scarfing food down. Believe you me when I say scarf, I mean I'm understating the problem. Sandra has to eat about four trays of food rapidly each meal in order to sustain both her body mass, and her Exemplar powers. You would too if you were roughly nineteen feet long and looked like a humanoid Anaconda. Razorback is, if anything, worse. He usually carries two trays with meat stacked about a foot high off each, and the bastard goes back for thirds. You'd think he's an exemplar, but no, his metabolism is so high that you could probably bottle his blood and launch the Space Shuttle with it.
So I sit down with my (slightly under-portioned) tray of food and let them carry on their conversation without really paying attention. Sandra never signs at people unless she wants some conversational privacy, so I don't try to decipher the hand-waving. It's a courtesy thing. Me and Sandra have been signing for a long time. My little brother Zach (he's actually thirteen) was born deaf. The irony of my handicap has not escaped either of us, or our parents. Razor signs out of necessity. Far from being deaf, he's mute. All he can do is make these weird animal noises. However, he's hypersensitive to sound and vibration, to the tune of fingernails on a blackboard he describes as someone jabbing knives in his eyes while inserting needles made of salt just under the scales of his skin.
So back to my food. I'm more than a little disgusted, but I choose to eat like this. On the upside I've lost well over a hundred pounds. Yes folks I was the fucking fat kid back home. Laugh it up. At this point I only looked like I was mildly overweight. Comes from a layer of fat over the muscles Razor has been helping me train on the weights and the track. I hate running. I so fucking hate running. If I was meant to run, God should have given me Razor's build, digitigraded legs and all.
That was odd. Pristine's by herself, rather than hanging out with her usual jock buddies two tables away. In layman's terms, that's a short hop over to hanging out with the freaks (read: me and Diamond and Razor) in the corner. By most standards a fate worse than death. Hence we are Outcast Corner. Too freakish to be friends with the norms, not fucking interested in the self-pity teams the other terminally GSD kids seem to form. Also not interested in the weirds who find the odd body types of my good buddies intriguing. I'm NOT fond of shitheads with a snake-girl fetish trying to glom on to me childhood friend don'tcha know.
Now, fortunately I can watch Pristine without looking. No way I'll get caught staring. She was sitting there, all bowed over like someone hit her with a truck, and eating slowly, staring in the direction of the security building. Word on the street was that she got caught in the Security control room when the shit hit the fan and sprayed all over the crowd Halloween night. We know for a fact that some of the regular security monkeys are getting closed-casket funerals, so I'm guessing that she probably saw some really bad shit. I don't need to be Empathic like Sandra to tell that she's feeling down in the dumps.
"Back in a sec, guys." I said as I stood up. The two dinguses are so intent on their conversation I doubt they noticed. Sometimes they get like that. Normally I'd screw with them, but I wasn't in the mood. I hate seeing people all shitty and feeling bad.
Pristine barely notices when I plop into the chair across from her. Normally I'd be obnoxious and do something like ask her out on a date in the most flamboyant manner possible. Now is not the time, however.
"Penny for your thoughts, Pris?"
She looked over at me. "Who are you?"
Hardly surprising. I'm just a freshie, and one of the flaky devisor crowd. Even the most batty of us barely warrant a second glance to most folks.
"Just another face in the crowd. I stopped by to see if you're ok. Nothing more." Oh god I hate being all honest and serious. It goes against my grain, but sometimes it needs done.
She looked into my eyes, of course, but if the eyes are the windows to the soul, mine are a cheap plaster wall.
"I'll be ok. Just need time to think." She looked over at the Security building again. The damage was still visible, or it would be if I was standing outside. Glass windows might as well be steel walls to me. Apparently some smartass had seen fit to fire a rocket launcher into the Lobby before rampaging through the place like a lunatic pinball. And apparently the Pinball was Whateley staff, although the reports of which staff were a bit confused. My money's on one of the gadgeteer or devisor types. Most of the others would have just used magic or some weird manifestor powers to blaze away like a soldier on a machinegun without an ammo limit.
"Well if you ever need someone to talk to, tell Razorback you want to talk to Jericho. If you do I promise no tricks, no cheap come-ons, no trying to screw with you. I'll listen when you're ready to get things off your chest."
"Razorback? You're friends with Razorback?" She looked at me as if I was insane. "He's dangerous."
I nodded. "That he is, but if you ever look past the rager, he's just another kid trying to get a handle on himself. He won't bite unless you bite first."
Pristine seemed to chew on that for a bit. "Maybe. I dunno. I'll let you know if I need to talk. Probably won't, but thanks."
"Hey, no problem." I grinned widely with my best shit-eating expression. "Now in order to avoid the rep of having a geeky devisor kid as a boyfriend, I suggest you get a disgusted look and act very indignant. Death threats strictly optional."
I'll give the girl credit, she caught on quick, and after she sort of chuckled she fixed me with one of those trademarked pissed-off-woman stares and actually growled loudly. "Ok that's disgusting! Get the hell away from me before I knock your ass across the cafeteria!" BRAVO! She even made it sound genuine!
I stood with hands up in a surrendering gesture and was aware of all the other pretty bastards and bitches snickering at the poor devisor kid's misfortune. Yep, that's me Jericho, the almighty punching bag of Whateley. I turned to my adoring throng of mockery and jeering, took a bow, and began to dance gracelessly to my friends, who were both fixing Pristine with their patented homicidal stares. Let me tell you it took me MONTHS to perfect my dance. Drives Sandra nuts to see me do it, too. With a victory wave to the crowd I sat by me partners in madness.
Ok, a bit of background story on Sandra and Razor here. Sandra, my naga-esque best friend of thirteen years, during a time when both of us were in diapers (I was potty trained first, HAH!) had been born one Ryan Carter, my cohort of the boys' locker room. Ryan had gone through the mutant change hard and fast. Her family was a pack of hardcore Humans Firsters, so he ran like Lucifer himself was on his tail to my family. We sheltered Ryan during that traumatic month of rapid shifting to the form of Sandra Carter, AKA Diamondback, the girl with scales and a snake tail instead of legs, Wiccan mage extraordinaire! Maybe not. Ryan had been wiccan secretly for years, but Sandra's talents for magic were about as laughable as my max bench press weight. Oh believe me, she got better at it.
Razorback was the flip side of the coin. He'd about scared the shit out of us when the big bloody leezard popped in on us talking in sign language about Sandra's change and how much it worried her about people finding out. The Irony. Needless to say, Razor understood and followed the whole conversation with rapt fascination. By the time we realized he was there, and for how long he'd just signed -Hi.- as if it were the most perfectly normal conversation in the world. Needless to say, Sandra was mortified, and I was ready to fight to protect her when he simply nodded and indicated he wouldn't tell anyone and he was sorry he was "eavesdropping"
Turns out the great scaly bastard was pretty much in the same boat. Jack Carlyle had been born one Erin Carlyle and had started shifting at the zoo. She got run off into the Outback and went feral on the military training areas. About a year, and a platoon of Aussie and American Jarhead casualties later, the newly minted "Jack" got picked up by a group called Overwatch Defense. He spent three years being re-introduced to the world of man, and finally landed at Whateley Academy, where he immediately topped the Ultraviolent list and became the record-holder for the most consecutive detentions...Ever. Fortunately he's gotten a lot better with the whole self-control schtick.
"What was that all about?" Sandra always had to have answers. Always the brain chugging along trying to figure things out. The fact that her mutation left her with an IQ of 240 or so probably has something to do with it.
"Thought I'd go ask Pristine out on a date."
"And she reacted like that?"
I shrugged. "Hey, I think I caught her at a bad time, she looks pretty bent about something."
-Yeah, she discovered what a shallow bint she is.- There was no real love lost between Razor and the rest of the Sophomore class.
I didn't say anything. I dunno why, but I get the impression that Pris is good people, even if she comes across rather similarly to Tansy Walcutt. Hell, she talked to me for several seconds. Anyway I usually am right when I make these calls. It worked for Razor.
"So you two done with the silent convo? I figured you wanted privacy." Honesty is sometimes the best policy, especially when Diamond is fully aware of how I act when I'm full of shit, and her empathic talents make it worse. "So I went over to Pris and gave her the same spiel I gave to Connie Freeham back home in Kilgore. I even suggested the rep-saver at the end. She was actually rather civil the whole time."
Jack looked perplexed, and Sandra smirked. "Joeseph, when the hell are you gonna stop being the punching bag of life?"
"About the time it gets boring. Until then, I'm going to play the part of the gleeful little masochist to the hilt."
-I'm missing something here.- Razor signed.
Sandra looked over at our feralistic companion and sighed. "It's an offshoot of the Drain Bamage that Jericho has. Not only is he obsessed with being a medical technician, he thinks he's Counsellor Troi."
-That's impossible. She's hot. He's a dredlocked nerdboy.-
"I tend to agree." I'm more than happy to crack wise about myself, I'm secure in my manhood. Now before you get the wrong idea about me and Diamond and Razor's relationship, what with them needling me in ways that would start fights with other kids, this is how we do business. We needle each other because we know the others aren't going to take it personal. We just do it all our own way. I set myself up as the dartboard and keep score for the other two.
-So what's your plans today Joe?- Razor was always itching to get rolling on the guitars after classes. sometimes I could, sometimes I was helping drop-kick someone out of a funk, deserved or not, and sometimes I had to play catch-up in Devisor shop after classes. That Rafe armor ain't gonna build itself.
"Depends. You feeling all right now?" Razor had been hit worse than anyone who wasn't dead on Halloween. Like I said, he's hypersensitive to sonic energy and vibration. The asshats who attacked on Halloween used some kinda rig to turn the entire stadium into a giant subwoofer/wobble board thing.
Razor had been in the can when it happened. I can only thank god and whoever else was watching that no one else was in there with him. The attackers didn't get that memo, and when me and Sandra fished his unconscious body from there the whole place was obliterated. The toilets and stalls had been torn apart, shattered, the mirrors all busted, the sinks ripped off the walls, and about eight dead guys in that funky leather armor. Let's just say the sight was a mite... disturbing, although I really couldn't find it in me to have any pity. After all they attacked US with intent.
-I feel fine. No more pain in my nerves, and my bones have finished mending this morning.- Razor was thoroughly fucked up when we got to him. He was in the infirmary for thirty hours afterward, while his regenerative abilities tried to kick back in, heal the damage and close the three gunshot wounds he'd picked up in the process.
"In that case, I'm up for the old game of 'make loud music till Cantrell pitches a fit." Me and Razor had a spot under Hawthorne that was well-insulated and structurally sound. We liked to try to crank up the heavy tunes till they could hear it in the Hawthorne common room. We'd usually have an audience long before that.
"While you two are playing with your toys I'll be in my dance class." Sandra had always been a dancer, even before the shift. Her folks had signed their bouncing baby boy up for Ballet at an early age, as a way to build his body without the punishment of a martial arts class.
-You still doing the belly dancing?-
Sandra nodded. "I'm glad too. It's one of those dances that seems like it was designed for me."
Razor and I nodded, then we all began cleaning up. Sandra had Aikido, Razor had survival class, and I got to go to Freshman English Yay, another class repeat for me. Whateley always wanted to keep their hooks in a student for the full four years no matter how old or well-educated they were, so I'm a fifteen-year-old freshman when I SHOULD be a sophomore. They claimed it was so they could get you fully ready to face the world after you graduated. I still think that it's a clever ruse to allow them to chiesel four full years of tuition out of your checkbook.
* * *
Meanwhile, somewhere out of Jericho, or anyone elses' awareness...
Hekate looked at the cloaked figure she called "master" quietly. He was standing in the circle of lifelessness a mile away from the school boundary. No one ever came here, and scrying would always fail in the circle. She hated it here, as the place left her feeling like worms were crawling under her skin, or like she was slowly melting, or sometimes even with a simple feeling of dread. She wasn't sure which sensation was worse.
"Is everything moving forward, Hekate?"
"Yes master," She nodded, "the Alphas have done as you asked, and the arrangements that need done are done. It's just a matter of waiting to see what happens."
"Excellent. You make me glad I am teaching you..." He left the rest unspoken, but Hekate was well aware of what would happen to her if she was ever less than useful.
"Something for which I'm glad." Lying through her teeth was easy. She had tried to escape this one's influence before but had failed each time, not because she objected to his methods, but because she didn't like being his errand-girl.
"Very well, and the augury I instructed you to perform?"
Hekate nodded. "It is done, but you may not like the results."
"I'll decide that, tell me now."
Biting back the burning retort to his mightier-than-thou tone she took a deep breath and began. "The path is still in flux. The forces arrayed behind and against us are still balanced perfectly. As it stands now without much more trial the outcome would be uncertain."
He nodded. Gods she wanted to see his face, just once, so she would know who it was she was dealing with.
"It is more or less as predicted then. I just wished to see if any variables had come into play I was previously unaware of."
She gritted her teeth. This was the bad part. "There IS a variable. Everything is in balance, but a new factor has come into the mix, a total wild card, brought on by the violence of Samhain. Before it was just shadows in the dark like the rest. There is no way to tell wether it will help, hinder or do nothing, but when it does it will take the extremes of such with no halfway measures."
"Interesting." He sounded too calm. This wasn't going to be fun. "Continue."
"No names, no faces, just a troupe of shadows with four images. The Bard with a heart of fury, An angel of mercy cloaked in the pain of others, a Shaman with two hearts and one mind, and a murderer with the soul of a Paladin. The other shadows were indistinct and unformed, as if they are waiting to awaken, and they may or may not. But these four can fall in any direction, and when they do they will fall with abandon."
The hiss of displeasure was audible. "And our main adversaries?"
"Still as they were in the beginning."
"Very well. Start hunting for these wild cards of yours. I want them brought to heel quickly and quietly, before they reach their full potential."
As much as I Really, really would love to torture you all, there are some things you don't do, like try to explain just how goddamned boring Miss Seever's English class is, or try to replicate Doc Zalman's raggedy-ass voice. In the spirit of the holiday season I will spare you the trials and tribulations of English and Physics, which brings me to my favorite class of the day... Devisor Lab. LET THE GAMES BEGIN!
It began with a huddled prayer around the ancient, steaming, spurting crockpot of inedible sludge that carried enough caffeine to slaughter the souls of a thousand screaming innocents. Yes friends, this coffee was made RIGHT! With that special blend of bean juice with enough acid to strip the chrome off a porsche and pit concrete on contact this was the poison of choice as I huddled around the coffee pot with my classmates, who ran the entire gamut of grades from freshman to senior. Devisor lab is far more loose and eclectic than any other class at Whateley. I love it so.
Now my description of the coffee pot is understated. Imagine a twenty-gallon stainless-steel vat of water, heated by a kind of micro-fusion reactor and made to work as a giant engine of percolation. Add to this the whole deal literally rips every useful bit of anti-nutrient and caffeine in the grounds and you have yourself some potent shit. Our coffee is considered a deadly weapon in three states, and a weapon of mass destruction by some small countries. Rumor has it the Pope himself banned our coffee from use by catholics. Good thing I'm theoretically Baptist.
As the ceremonial first cups of the class are poured we all looked upon one another and said the morning prayer.
"It is by caffeine alone I set my mind in motion.
For it is by the Beans of Java that the thoughts acquire speed,
The hands acquire shakes,
The shakes become a warning.
It is by Caffeine alone I set my mind in motion."
We all took sips of the black stuff, looking over at the heretical tea-drinkers (Like Stalwart) and Jolt-jerks (like Tinkertrain) with thinly disguised contempt. Theirs are inferior beverages and have been judged and found wanting. Hell, even Bugs and Mega-Death were over here at the pot and praying with the REAL devisors. Just goes to show you who's really in this for the long-haul. We immediately blast the traditional playing of Weird Science by Oingo Boingo and start our day.
They call my coffee unhealthy.
I merely point out they are weak.
They call my coffee vile.
I return that they have no concept of perfection.
I could go on for hours about coffee. It's truly a great thing. However, if you want to hear a coffee rant, go on the internet and look up 'coffee rant' by Mr. Badger. That guy's crazier than me and Mega-Death combined. He makes me happy.
Speaking of Mega-Death, I needed to talk to him. I just hoped he wasn't dricking too bad today. Dudeman gets really twigged-out freaky whenever he forgets to take his meds.
"Hey Mega! Can I talk to you for a bit?" Never ever EVER sneak up on that kid I warn you right now. Always get his attention first.
Mega-Death turns and has a look at me, tapping along like a regular blind guy with my cane. That reminds me. I need wrap-around sunglasses to perfect the Stevie Wonder with Dreds look.
"What do you want Jericho?" He was looking at me like I was going to steal his longer-lasting lightbulb invention or something.
"Remember if I asked if i could borrow your waveform-variance generator?" I kept the tone light and easy. I do NOT want him going all mad, cackling supervillain spewing bad monologue. Mr. Bumsfeld and Ms. Merenis chewed my ass RAW the last time, and it was an accident! I'd meant to make Zappaphage drick out. I missed. Don't ask me where the name Zappaphage came from, not only do I NOT want to know, I never want to be informed even by accident what kind of twisted mind it takes to invent such a hokey word.
He started glowering darkly at me. Oh shit, drick-out in progress. I had to act fast. Diedricks is only funny on TV, or if you're a complete asshole. It's a brain malfunction brought on by some mutations that makes you start spitting out every thought in your head, and actually causes you to think what you spew by taking a chemical shortcut through your subconscious. Stupid thing is, Devisors and Gadgeteers (of which I am both, lucky me) have about three times the chances of picking it up over any other mutation type. Sucks to be us.
"Hey, like I said MD, I don't wanna rip off your design, I just need it to fix my goddamned EMS field generator." I started talking fast. "I won't break it, I won't steal it, hell if you want to come over and help out. I figure you'd be a crapton better than I am at getting it to work." Also true, as devisor gear tends to be somewhat unreliable in the hands of others.
MD's near-drick experience seemed to fade a bit as he was mollified that i wasn't trying to take one of his precious tools (which he built himself) away from him. Hell, I don't have so many tools but I protect them like a pissed-off tigress guarding her cubs.
"All right, show me what you got."
"Bring the extra-large coffee thermos. This may take a while."
After we got the extra-large coffees we wandered over to my crap locker and I rolled out the gurney with a heavy looking suit of power armor. It's still very much a work in progress. I'm skimping on the weapons one would expect and loading it with medical sensors, tools and various other sundries. I'm basically designing a fast, strong, and hopefully nigh invulnerable search-and rescue rig, as well as emergency response units for the paramedics to be able to enter a heavy mutant fight, get the bystanders and wounded to safety, treat them, and survive the experience. I call it Rafe class EMS armor, after the Archangel of Mercy, Raphael.
Call it a quirk. I don't want to go down in history as the man who built and marketed the better manslaying equipment. I leave that to the other maniacs here.
The suit is only half-finished, being the ablative armor is complete and assembled, along with the heavy servoes required to move the thing. Basically if you wear it you can run at a top speed of thirty miles an hour, and match an exemplar three for physical strength. Fireproofing, heat-shielding and tempest-hardening for those occasional downed power lines or lightning strikes and you have a perfect combat rig... If you were going for that shit. I'm opting for the lifesaver gear.
The suit is a reflective white color with a small light bar across the chest and back and a siren to announce what the hell you're there for. As if the HUGE red cross on the chest, back and shoulders couldn't tell you. (how do I know what color it is? I painted it with a digital camera plugged in my brainjack) It looked vaguely like images of fantasy plate armor and could stop anything short of a .50 cal sniper rifle. The armor won't break under the .50 but the shock will still kill you quickly. I still have to build the heavy sensors, communications and tracking systems, onboard computer, med tool unit, forearm drug and blood transfusion dispensers, and of course the wings, which combine a jump pack and energy field emitter. It won't fly, but it'll do five hundred yard jumps which when combined with the run speed and servoes, gives the whole thing an operational speed of about 60 MPH.
"Ok MD, what I got here is the field generator. I'm running a dual-field kit here, one is a force-field that's akin to what you get on a five or six-ton TK brick, and the other which is on a separate switch converts the whole thing to have the equivalent strength of a five-ton TK brick." I went over the basics. "The whole thing is on a duplex wave-converter and a micro-fusion power plant. Basically I find that if you overlap two power fields they tend to intermingle, the whole thing feeds back and presto. Scrap metal. But if you duplex the wave-forms...
Ok it took me about ten minutes to explain what I was doing. MD didn't seem to buy a bit of it, but when I got to the heart of the problem, finally he brightened up.
"So the main problem here is the energy fields are unstable, going from about a half-ton to twelve tons, which really rips up the power plant something fierce. Optimal setting is about five for each. I was wondering if we could use your rig to calibrate and stabilize the field here."
MD nodded thoughtfully. "Not a bad idea. If we can do this, maybe you can help me with a similar project. I need to fix my personal force-field so it's harder to tamper with."
"Deal."
So we hooked up the Wave-form generator and I started tweaking while Mega gave commentary about amplitude and Isorelay chargers, which I took to be this doodad over there and that thingamabob over here. My wires and circuits are not color-coded, much to my classmates' chagrin when they try to decipher my gear. I base wire-placement entirely on texture, which I can discern, and I do most of my work by feel anyway. My hands are my greatest tools. I can tell if something's not right by poking at it usually. It also helps that I program my gear by running a wire between the equipment and my neural jack.
"Alright Jericho, you have an even, stable five-ton field on each wave. Every time you tried to alter the modulation of one it threw the other out of whack."
"Damn, I thought I solved that problem. All right, back to the drawing board." Secretly I was freaking ecstatic! I got the damned thing to work! If I could do that then I can get the Gadgeteer version somewhere between 2.5 and 3 tons on both the shield and the strength! And the gadgeteer version would be usable by baselines, and it could be replicated as such. Maybe then the paramedics wouldn't be such easy marks for asshole villains and other mutants who couldn't, or wouldn't learn to NOT hit bystanders, or target emergency services.
"So why you limiting the strength?" Mega actually looked curious.
"Not interested in building weapons. This is a Search-and-Rescue rig. If you need to lift a chunk of something that weighs more than about three tons then you're just searching for bodies. Exceptions to this are building collapses, but only if nothing bigger than three tons individually has fallen on top of where the victim is holed up or trapped under. You don't need to be able to lift an entire city bus to get someone trapped under it, but if you can lift one end and hold it you're already there. I'm only doing five-ton here because this is MY suit."
"Going for marketability then?" MD nodded approvingly.
"Yup. If I play my cards right I will become a wealthy son of a bitch." Inwardly I smiled. The first three units were promised to Whateley for use by security gratis for medical emergency purposes. After all, Whateley was funding my work in exchange, and greasing the wheels of funding is never a bad thing. Otherwise I'd wind up having to try to pay for all of the stuff myself.
Lunch. My favorite part of the day after music class and Devisor Lab. It was my prelude to Music class, Biochemistry and Aikido. Actually, after English and Lab are done my day couldn't get better. My math requirement was waived due to the fact that I can pretty much learn and do whatever mathematical theory you throw at me. Partly because I'm smarter than I used to be, and partly because I have a math-learning program I use via brainjack.
As usual I'm the first of the Outcasts to arrive. The security monkeys are onto me. They're staking out my favorite spot to panhandle. Sorry boys, you think you're slick but I see you following me.
My underloaded food tray precedes me to the traditional Outcast Table. God I hate being on a self-imposed diet. Unfortunately if I go for the fat and happy route I become an even bigger target to the other students. I'm JUST big enough to look actually strong, but not so big as to attract fatty jokes. Besides, I have to be able to keep up with Diamond and Razor in the training sims. Like that is ever gonna happen until I get the Rafe armor up and running. Diamond and Razor take the words 'physically fit,' roll them into a ball and shoot hoops with them. I'm in a team with two exemplars, Jack being faster than greased lightning on a hot day, and Sandra being a borderline brick.
Speaking of which, we were gonna have a run through the wringer that day in the sims against the grunts. Oh yippie-skippy-fucking-hooray. Supposed to be an even match, playing hero/villain, and since my team looks like a pack of monsters, minus yours truly, we get to be the villains. Add to this we're outnumbered two-to-one against the reigning simulator champs and it's gonna be a rough ride. We've gone against them no less than three times already, almost as if someone thinks we're gonna win. We gave up on the winning thing. Now we opt for making the lot of them go absolutely bonkers trying to pin us down. Sandra and Razor do the whole movie monster schtick while I play Lord Booby Trap. We managed to drag the last bout well past the intended half-hour of scheduled time. We're even worse against teams that aren't as organized and motivated as the Grunts, even won a few bouts.
Ahhh, speaking of the Grunts, there's Slapdash and Deadeye. Of the grunts those two are the absolute worst to deal with. For me. Deadeye's an instinctive sharpshooter. Those freaky octopus eyes of his (that's how Sandra describes them) can and will guide a rifle to pinhole your ass if you leave cover for even a split-second. Slapdash is their team Devisor and my personal nemesis in the sims. At least these guys don't go around like they own you. They leave that to the Alphas, but they are INTENSE as a group.
As I look around I see the three clusters of GSD kids from Twain, Whitman and Hawthorne, and not segregated by cottage.
The first cluster is called the Freakshow by the other students. These guys are mostly harmless. Their GSD tends to revolve around environmental specialization. Most of them also look like creatures of myth. There's Syline, the brunette girl (who I must add is hot) in a wheelchair because her legs are fused into a mermaid tail with purple scales. Harpy, is their team flyer, a girl who's arms have completely converted to eagle wings, and her feet into hawklike talons. Jacko, the kid who looks like an anthropomorphic wolf from the waist up, and has a centauroid body shaped and furred like an arctic wolf. And there's finally Grabby, a sour looking girl with red hair who had the misfortune of becomeing a copperhead-snake scaled Octupus hybrid-thing with eight tentacles for legs and also one replacing each of her arms. Fortunately for her she can move fine out of water.
Sandra tried talking with them a few times, but she always came back depressed as hell. Those kids were apparently all about the woe is me, it's not fair, why didn't I get to be like THAT (insert hot exemplar here). I mean, individually we've found that the lot of them are good kids, it's just that you get them together and it's like a pity me contest has erupted. Oddly the sourest-looking among them, Grabby, is usually the one who bitches the least. You'd think Sylene would be fine, at least she's still mostly human-looking and attractive to boot.
Ugh, speaking of pity parties, Thuban... Jesus that boy needs help. He's tried to pitch this Faction Three idea to me, Diamond and Razor a few times, as a place for the GSD and those of us without the uberhot exemplar genes kids to get together, hang out and generally take a break from getting shit on. I'll check it out, but it sounds like another party of mute acceptance of a bad genetic card with no hope for parole. We won't accept that. We will not hide in the goddamned shadows from the people who think they're better than us.
I may not be the hottest thing since sliced bread but I do NOT get shit on. I shit back. So does Razor. Diamond usually needs some serious provoking but once she's provoked, dear god in heaven and all of creation I've seen what she does to people, violently or otherwise. Since she became a girl she has learned the fine art of gossip and rumormongering. She doesn't ever use it as a matter of course, the whole he said, she said thing bugs the crap out of her. However, she is NOT above dropping vicious rumors or false evidence into the hands of the WORST rumor and gossip girls in the school. If she's really feeling sadistic she makes sure that the Dickinson girls hear it first. For her, it's a weapon, a scalpel with which to cause much pain without the aid of physical violence.
Not that she's a slouch at violence. I saw her throw a Humans Firster inside the trailer of a semi truck. Oh no biggie you say. I can do that too. She threw him THROUGH the side of the trailer's metal panelling and structure to get him there. Like I said. Borderline brick.
Speak of the devil and who shall arrive... "Enchante Mon Cherie." I said as she slithered up to me with her food.
The look of "Do I kiss him or kill him" is priceless. Hey I have no idea what that expression is. She could be licking her fangs and getting ready to hock a neurotoxic loogie in my eye for all I know. All I know is she's making a face.
"Jericho, do you ever get tired of playing class clown?" She almost sounds exasperated.
"Hell no! Why just this morning Razor helped me with my make-up." I pointed to my Magically Marked face.
"Ahh, I knew it, we let you dress in drag once and you start going for makeup. So when will we be seeing you in the girl's school uniform?"
Yes, I went to the Halloween ball in drag. I also threatened to hit people with my purse. A lot. It was gloriously bad drag too. Nothing matched. I also didn't try to hide my voice. I don't think i've had that much fun freaking people out in YEARS.
"Well, I dunno, I think Razor would be uncomfortable with me in my Marilyn Monroe skirt standing over a vent singing Happy Birthday Mister President."
Sandra began chuckling to herself. "That would disturb the hell out of all of us."
"The better to terrorize you all my dear."
"Oh yeah, Razor will be late. He was helping Jimmy T with a "thorny problem" as he put it." Sandra looked a bit annoyed.
I shrugged. "Hey, if someone's gonna screw with the thornies, and they called Razor in it means they're running the idiot ragged and having a blast playing movie monster chasing the moron."
"Think they'll get in trouble?"
"Not as long as no one actually gets hurt." I was less sure about that, but the thought of Razor shrieking like a mad demon and chasing some bully down and making him piss his pants appealed on so many levels.
JT and Razor could pull stuff like that off because they had a rep. Razor for being mindlessly, murderously violent and damned close to unstoppable without extreme measures, and Jimmy T because everyone thinks he's cannibalistic. Even the Alphas usually steer well clear of the two of them, at least visibly. They might have been the cause of one or two of Razor's supposed spectacular blowouts last year, but I wasn't here so I dunno.
Sandra was about to say something when she looked out the window. I can't see through windows, they are a perfect barrier to my vision, as if they were walls.
"Shit, Bannockburn and Hela are at it again." She sighed.
"What's going on?" I asked as she was looking annoyed.
Bannockburn was one of the Emerson kids, obsessive about the Scottish highlander image, and the only other Whateley student besides me who would wear a kilt. Actually it was impossible to convince him to wear anything BUT a kilt. Not so bad until you consider he's notorious for going commando and when he doesn't wipe properly he's a miserable one to be around.
"Phobos and Deimos are trying to separate them."
"Shit, those two? Those two trying to stop a fight is like putting out a fire with napalm." Phobos and Deimos were a pair of twins who tried to play peacemaker even though their names meant Fear and Panic. The two girls were Whitmaniacs, each with three eyes, four arms and cloven hooves and a pair of long, lizardlike tails each. They got their names from their ability to cause panic and havoc through probability manipulation. Both of them being exemplar 4's like Sandra contributed to this image. The worst was when they merged, forming this siamese twin-thing with two heads, eight arms, three legs and four lashing, prehensile tails. Things came apart in complete pandemonium once they got going. Unfortunately violence nearby was one of the triggers to cause them both to go rager, rather like Razorback, so they desperately tried to calm folks down, or they flee the area.
"Bannockburn just clocked Deimos!" Sandra panicked. She LIKED the two twins.
"FUCK! Sandra focus now, we gotta move, standard deal, get the injured clear and then work on the maniacs!" We'd have to concentrate totally in order to filter out the mayhem that was about to break loose.
I heard, and felt Phobos' scream of absolute fury as I grabbed my medical bag and ran for the door. Rather like the apocryphal stories of Razorback from last year, when Phobos and Deimos get started there is going to be injuries. There is no middle ground.
By the time me and Sandra got out there were already four people down in the area, with both Phobos and Deimos tearing at anything in reach. Bannockburn was trying to hit Deimos with his battleaxe and Hela was spraying magic like a water fountain. She hit one of the other students, and the boy dropped. This is the problem with mutant combat, the worst injuries invariably go to the bystanders, especially when ragers are involved.
Sandra was rushing to the boy who got hit, and I charged, screaming "RAGERS LOOSE! EVERYONE GET CLEAR!" It wouldn't help the folks inside the tag-team terror aura the twins were generating, but it would get anyone else outside the fifty yard radius the warning to stay clear.
There was no time for thought as I dove through the melee and hauled another boy out of the mix before he could get trampled or killed accidentally. I ran his unconscious form away even as Sandra deposited two more beside me in the clear. Both of us turned and bolted straight for the last two, and I almost got my ass fried by one of Hela's lightning bolts for my trouble. Just because you take the name of the Norse god of the dishonored dead does NOT give you license to act like you can just let loose havoc!
The last two bodies clear, we began checking them. One had a nasty lump, another had Hela's bolt-burns and the other three had gash marks from when Bannock swung too wide or Phobos or Deimos lashed them with their tails, or used the energy points they formed at their fingertips to slash them.
"Razor! We got a rager outbreak! Phobos, Deimos, Bannockburn and Hela! We need cover!" I barked into a ring on my finger, and heard an affirmative shriek in return. Good, Razor put on the microbead this morning. We lucked out. Usually he forgets it. Ok he almost ALWAYS forgets it.
Sandra begins focusing on what little magic she can control and I run triage to make sure we don't have too serious injuries in the mix. Between the two of us we can keep people from dying, while Razor covers our asses and plays distraction. Speaking of our rogue Lizard the panicked shouts and shrieking roar announce his presence ans he decelerats from about a hundred miles an hour to zero in a twenty foot long skid with his claws on all four limbs digging into the turf. He takes one look and begins running in circles around the combatants, and shoving people back. We had about another minute before Security was supposed to show up. Now comes the hard part. Keeping the four combat gumbies from killing each other. For this trick I give thee, Diamond and Razor.
"All right! Razor separate Hela and Phobos! Diamond pin down Deimos. I got Bannock! Let's get these fools where they can be rounded up!" The injured were safe, they'd survive the trip to the infirmary. The bystanders were clear, it was time to break this hoo-hah up. Oh shit.
Just at the WORST possible time, as we're moving forward Phobos and Deimos jumped together. When they came to Fury was loose. The Siamese Nightmare immediately started the process of deconstructing the ground around her, violently.
"Change up! Razor take Fury! Diamond on Hela! Go!"
We bounded to our separate targets and I pulled out three of my "last resort" tricks I knew would work. Bannock's backswing almost took my head off before I poked him with my force prod at the end of my cane, causing a shockwave ripple that blew him on his ass, unharmed. I tossed two of my glop grenades and he wound up covered in glue.
Sandra got Hela under control right quick, having wrapped her tail around the girl, I imagine she told Hela she'd crush her if she twitched. Sandra's been rated at exemplar four. A constrictor snake like she is can lay down enough force to kill damned near anything it can wrap around, and Hela was no exemplar.
Razorback body-checked Fury to the ground, hard and darted away before the dual shrieks and retaliation came. The aura of random havoc twisted one of the benches nearby and I could clearly sense all of the students nearby watching with morbid fascination. The two ragers went back and forth, with Razor carefully avoiding being hit, and me listening for the one sound from Razor, a long, ululating hunting howl that always immediately preceded one of his berserker fits. I held a small Devise in my hand just in case.
Security was coming, and Razor was managing to control Fury without hurting her until one of her blaze-tipped hands raked him open across his flank. I could see the slashes go deep, tearing through skin, bone and internal organs like a hot knife through butter, leaving a gash two feet long down his side. Razor darted away and let out that cry that everyone told me was a sure sign of havoc when I threw the microgrenade and me and Sandra ducked and covered our ears. Razor and Fury got caught by the shockwave of sound and vibration leaping at each other in midair and were both knocked unconscious. Fury fell in two places, as Phobos and Deimos fell apart and landed next to each other.
I ran to Razor, Diamond ran to the twins as we began checking them over. Lieutenant Forsyth began directing the medical cleanup, and had Bannock and Hela cuffed. I was injecting Razor with a metabolic stabilizer to get his regeneration going again when he came up to me. Diamond was checking the twins for damage and healing their bruises with her meager magic.
"What happened here, son?" No Forsyth didn't know my name, I was just another random, low-threat freshie to him. I knew him because Razor pointed him out to me.
"If you gimmie a sec..." I pulled the needle and Razor jerked as his body finished off healing the horrific gaping wound Fury had given him. It was almost done anyway. She'd gone right through flesh and bone with her energy claw. "We broke up a fight because too many folks were getting injured, after we got the injured clear."
"Razor involved?" Forsyth looked like he half-expected me to bullshit him.
"Razor was the only one of us that could keep Fury under control. When he finally got hit bad, he started to lose it so I hit them both with a sonic." I sighed. "Razor was actually trying to help calm things down."
Forsyth nodded. "Ok, provided he's sane when he wakes up, we'll let him go back to his room to recover. You and the snake girl over there done good."
I nodded as a few students were telling Forsyth's men what happened. Hela and Bannock got locked in cuffs and were being led over to security after I gave them the solvent for the glop grenades.
"Just wanted to make sure no one got too injured."
Forsyth nodded. "You need to make a statement, and so do your friends there. You can come once Razor recovers."
"We'll be there, sir."
Razor was exonerated of any wrongdoing, and I was shocked when Delarose took Razor's armband and tracker and set them aside. The security guys also took Razor's name off the top spot on the Ultra list and dropped him below Maggot and Killstench. He wasn't OFF the list, but he'd done himself a huge chunk of good and was paving the way to becoming a non-Ultra. Talk about a great fucking day! Razor had been fighting tooth and nail to get himself off that list for a long time, and the security gumbys were happy he was pushing so hard. He also learned he was getting a weekend pass in Dunwich for the first time EVER. Me and Diamond have already burned our passes this month, so he'd be going it alone.
As soon as we got out of the security office Razor immediately let out a shriek of glee and began slamdancing, air guitar and all for the amusement of me and Diamond. He only ever did that when he was really happy about something, and getting pulled off the top shithead slot and dropping down to the number four shithead by doing right was pretty good motivation.
"Only five minutes till fourth period," Sandra commented. "I gotta go."
I watched idly as she slithered off toward the magic department while Razor ran like a bat out of hell straight for Twain. I grinned to myself, re-hooked my medical satchel to my hip and began my blind man routine of walking to music class while tapping the ground in front of me with my cane. I don't need to do that of course, but it amuses me, I am blind, and I like being underestimated by the other students and staff.
I ALMOST beat Razor to the auditorium, and he solemnly handed me my Bass guitar case and we both went into the class together.
Now, in a class full of sonic manipulation types, sirens, Banshees, etc. you would expect it to be Razorback's hell. No no no my dear friends, when they say music soothes the savage beast they must have had mutants like Razor in mind. That boy has this maddening, insane love for music, especially heavy metal. I share this quirk with him, and both of us have been learning to play instruments since we were big enough to hold said instruments.
Class was in full swing when we got there, as everyone kicks off the party early. Sara and Axel were slamming out a rendition of Marilyn Manson's Drugs, while the Vile Age People were doing their ridiculous music politic. The cacophony would have been worse had some clever git not divided sound suppression fields around the various parts of the stage and auditorium, allowing everyone to get a solid crack at playing without being overwhelmed by the others.
You could HEAR them, and pick them out, but the racket wasn't deafening.
-God, most of these guys really need to learn what music is.- Razor hated a lot of the music people played. it wasn't part of his sound sensitivity, it was just his sense of aesthetics.
"Too true bro. Shall we borrow Bang-Bang and show 'em what being a Rockstar is all about?" I grinned as I waved the goofy looking kid with a pair of drumsticks in hand. Bang-Bang was known for his abilities with percussive sound, and could do anything from mimic a full drumset to throwing out machinegun-stacatto shockwaves that would make your teeth shatter. His retarded codename was coined by his three-year-old baby sister, who thought he was the greatest person in the world.
"Yo Mike, shall we do the upstaging act today?"
Bang-Bang nodded. "Sure Jericho, my band crew's all out with the flu bug. I told Casey and Zoe they shouldn't be swapping spit when one of 'em was ill, but would they listen to me? Nooooooo."
"All right, let's get set up then, Rockstar in five."
The three of us set up on one corner of the stage, and we all grinned. Bang-Bang actually used a drumset to practice even though he needed one like he needed a hole in the head. Cassandra Wagner, the reigning senior Diva was regaling everyone with her rendition of a Celine Dion hit. She was good, she could play your emotions like a cheap fiddle when she sang. She was singing Celine Dion. We couldn't let this stand. We deliberately waited until she reached the climax of the song then slammed the Nickelback down hard, heavy, and above all, LOUD. She actually stopped to glare at us when I started growling into the mic. Bang-Bang handles the low additions that accompanied the main lyrics as he thundered on the drums.
I'm through with standin' in line
at clubs I'll never get in
It's like the bottom of the ninth
and I'm never gonna win
this life hasn't turned out
quite the way I want it to be
(Tell me what you want)
I want a brand new house
on an episode of Cribs
And a bathroom I can play baseball in
And a king size tub big enough
for ten plus me
--(So what you need)--
I need a a credit card that's got no limit
And a big black jet with a bedroom in it
Gonna join the mile high club
At thirty-seven thousand feet
--(Been there done that)--
I want a new tour bus full of old guitars
My own star on Hollywood Boulevard
Somewhere between Cher and
James Dean is fine for me
(So how you gonna do it?)
I'm gonna trade this life for fortune and fame
I'd even cut my hair and change my name
'Cause we all just wanna be big rockstars and
Live in hilltop houses driving fifteen cars
The girls come easy and the drugs come cheap
We'll all stay skinny 'cause we just won't eat
And we'll hang out in the coolest bars
in the VIP with the movie stars
Every good gold digger's
Gonna wind up there
Every Playboy bunny
With her bleach blonde hair
And well...
Hey, hey, I wanna be a rockstar
Hey, hey, I wanna be a rockstar
I wanna be great like Elvis without the tassels
Hire eight body guards that love to beat up assholes
Sign a couple autographs
So I can eat my meals for free
--(I'll have the quesadilla, ha-ha)--
I'm gonna dress my ass
with the latest fashion
Get a front door key to the Playboy mansion
Gonna date a centerfold that loves to
blow my money for me
(So how you gonna do it?)
I'm gonna trade this life
For fortune and fame
I'd even cut my hair
And change my name
'Cause we all just wanna be big rockstars
And live in hilltop houses driving fifteen cars
The girls come easy and the drugs come cheap
we'll all stay skinny 'cause we just won't eat
And we'll hang out in the coolest bars
in the VIP with the movie stars
Every good gold digger's
Gonna wind up there
Every Playboy bunny
With her bleach blonde hair
And we'll hide out in the private rooms
With the latest dictionary of
today's who's who
They'll get you anything
with that evil smile
Everybody's got a
drug dealer on speed dial, well
Hey, hey, I wanna be a rockstar
I'm gonna sing those songs
that offend the censors
Gonna pop my pills
from a Pez dispenser
Get washed-up singers writing all my songs
Lip --sync-- 'em every night so I don't get 'em wrong
Well we all just wanna be big rockstars
And live in Hilltop houses driving fifteen cars
The girls come easy and the drugs come cheap
We'll all stay skinny 'cause we just won't eat
And we'll hang out in the coolest bars
in the VIP with the movie stars
Every good gold digger's
Gonna wind up there
Every Playboy bunny
With her bleach blond hair
And we'll hide out in the private rooms
With the latest dictionary of
today's who's who
They'll get you anything
with that evil smile
Everybody's got a
drug dealer on speed dial, well
Hey, hey, I wanna be a rockstar
Hey, hey, I wanna be a rockstar -Nickelback, 'Rockstar'
When we finished up Cassandra was glaring KNIVES at me. I pretended not to notice. Being blind has it's perks. There were a few approving nods and a few disgusted looks. Not everyone likes the kind of music me and Razor prefer, but we don't care.
Mr. King was walking up clapping, with his resplendantly bad Elvis outfit and Afro. "Nice work boys, nice work, very good command of the sound. Jericho where did you learn to play Bass? Your Guitar is severely out of tune."
I looked at my Deeply prized Fender and smiled evilly as I played several notes and demonstrated just how NOT out of tune my guitar was. "I dunno sir, I think someone's playing with the accoustics again."
Mr. King looked puzled for a minute, then looked up at the sound reverb panels that altered the sounds on stage and directed them at the audience. Yup, they were off sure enough. We both saw someone suddenly vanish from the control booth, although I didn't get a good look. Probably Bluejay. What few pranks he pulled in Music class were relatively harmless. I forgave him because he was the Alpha who made the other Alphas miserable. Shoulda heard some of his commentary about the Don and Hekate when they're not in the area. They guy's a hoot, even if he is thermonuclear cocky.
"Boys I'll be back, I need to go fix the accoustics." The King walked over to the control booth while me and razor busted up laughing.
"So Razor, you up for a bit of a run on the gift shop after school?"
Razor nodded.
"Excellent. Tell you what man, meet me after sixth period, we'll do some practice, then go hijack Diamond and go watch a movie in the common room." I thought for a second "Make that after we get done working. If I miss my two hours as Lab-Slave Doc Tenant will skin me alive. Plus you got your groundskeeping job, so after that?"
Razor readily agreed, letting out a bark of approval.
Bang-Bang grinned and wandered off. "See you bastards later. I'm gonna go nuzzle up to that goth girl Axel's hanging with."
"Careful, I hear she bites."
"Nothing ventured, nothing gained."
Bang-Bang can be cool, but I had no illusions of his chances with the girls at Whateley. He was a bit of an egotistical dick about that kinda thing. He wouldn't go for Sandra, and if he did, me and Razor would leave his body in a nice, shallow grave where no one would find it. Sandra's not normally violent about male dicks (the personality type, not the body part, duh), however if he or anyone like him ever tries to use Diamond for a cheap thrill lay, me and Razor will kill them, probably with as much pain and suffering as we can muster up. This is my one (known) exception to my distaste for homicide.
-That guy is gonna get his ass kicked one of these days.- Razor signed at me from behind me. All-round awareness, remember?
"Yeah, and if half the rumors floating around are true, probably by Sara."
-Fuck 'em. None of our business. Back to practice. I wanna do 'The Garden of Good and Evil again.' I'd like to get our song we wrote down pat for when we can fill out a band.-
"You're on, buddy, although I'm not so sure we can get us a drummer or Sandra to sing." Turns out I was wrong about Sandra and the drummer, but that's an entirely different ball of wax, and definitely well in the future.
No, I'm not gonna sing 'The Garden of Good and Evil' without the full band for you, Jesus. It's a long song, and it takes three singers, two of whom are female. As much as I love doing a falsetto to piss people off, it's just not right to howl off a tune me and Razor threw our heart and soul into improperly.
I'd go through Biochemistry, but I doubt you all would appreciate the whole dealio. A lot of geekspeak and experiments. Besides that, nothing interesting happened there that day. What, do you REALLY wanna go through mitochondrial chemical processes? If you do I can pull that lesson up. No? Good. Shut up and lemme tell the story.
In any case, I was sitting in my Aikido class, wearing the Gi I had just finished modifying relentlessly, adding pouches and pockets I could hide stuff in. Ito-Sensei was merciless about making me remove any gadgets that were obvious, so I took this as license to make small, unobtrusive little dirty tricks that would give me an edge against my classmates that I could hide on my person without getting caught. I'm sure he'll forgive me my transgressions. I mean come on! This was one of the guys always pushing us to use every cheap trick and advantage we could squeeze out of our powers. He just wasn't big on the whole "Toys on the mat" thing. But, as I have heard more than one combat instructor say (usually Wilson on the range while I was helping Flashbang test one weird gun-thing after another) "if you ain't cheating, you ain't trying."
As a side note, I can only imagine how ridiculous I look in my clean, white Gi with Magic marker scribbles all over my face. There were more than a few snickers about that. Maybe I should invest in a plaid workout outfit.
I'm ALWAYS early to Aikido. I love this class, It's gotta be my favorite. Huh? so what if I said Devisor Lab and Music were my favorite? Where is it written that I have to be consistent?
There's nothing greater than a fighting style built around the concept of taking a poor schlep who's too big and strong for his own good, and turning his own force against him. I'm not the best, but I can give the local low-level exemplar crowd a run for their money when I combine Ito's training with a few (dozen) cheap tricks and dirty pool. I also notice that very few of my aikido sparring partners ever try to bully me. I wonder why.
Ok, sparring and the infamous "red cage 'o doom" today. Ok just so you know, the red cage 'o doom is the big red cage that sits in the center of the sparring arena. If you can get an opponent inside it's representative of a power nullifier of one sort or another. See, everyone has weaknesses. Basically it represents the idea that some jackass foolio has discovered how to bone your powers and has succeeded. Get thrown into the cage and you lose. I actually lose quite a bit. Something to do with being the mighty equivalent in physical power of a baseline fifteen-year-old boy who's muscles and body have yet to fully develop. Anything above an exemplar two is about a gauranteed asswhupping for yours truly, and god forbid I have to deal with a blaster or TK brick.
Ahh, everyone was finally in the dojo, time to figure out who were the worst people to get paired off with for this little exercise. Oh yeah, the two class bricks are in attendance, Lancer and Punch. They're both bricks, and definitely high on my "do not screw with" list. Lancer's ok to talk to during and after class, but the guy's like a freight train marked RUNAWAY!!!!!
Punch is a cutie, sort of. The only thing about her exemplar bit is she's a bit overweight, kinda resembles the chubby cute good girl friends everyone seems to have. Problem is, she's really sensitive about wisecracks about her figure, and I wouldn't have the heart to mock her. Yes I have a heart, fuck off! Besides, she's a sweet girl when you talk to her. But she's also a brick, and is usually the match-off for Lancer, as they are the only two who can suck up each others' punishment.
Going down the long line of faces, and seeing a mix of people I have beaten and been beaten by equally I come back to Lancer's cohorts. Yes friends, it's the flavor of the week again, the Kimbas. Only a few of them here, but they're all a bitch and a half to deal with. Jade's the easiest, being what, twelve? Unfortunately easy is a relative term. Apparently she's done Aikido for a while, because I've had my ass tossed about like a rag doll by that little girl. I win about one in four against her, but I'm getting better.
Then there's Jade's ghost sister, shroud. She's a stone-cold bitch for me because I can only partly percieve her. She's weird, and nothing like I'd expect a ghost to be. She also does this whirling knife buzzsaw thing that I wind up doing my level best to stay the hell away from. Let there be much pain. She's a girl after my own heart though, you never know what the hell she's gonna pull next. She's less martial artist and more whirling ball of OH SHIT! WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT???
Toni's the other Kimba here today. To my less-then-detailed senses she's definitely a looker, bouncy and hyperactive on her worst day (bonus! She's as annoying as I am on her BEST day!) and she's black like me by all accounts. Ok, I'm sorry, African-American, Jesus Christ I swear political correctness was invented to suck all the joy out of my life! Thing is, Toni, or Chaka as we've all come to know and loathe, is a martial-arts genius. I hate going up against her and her funky Ki-sense on the mat because it's always a nineteen second (or less) bounding flurry of How the hell did she DO that??? Plus her kicks and punches that leave me gasping for air. I have never once laid a hand on that girl on the mat, and believe me, I've tried. I'm really going to have to start getting creative with her. The standard-issue Aikido moves flat-out do not work against that girl.
Most of the kids figure I'm a phenomenal blind-fighter, or have Daredevil's hearing because they try to be all silent and sneaky to take my white-eyed ass by surprise. So far no one's been able to do it, and no one's bothered to ask HOW I do it. I feel no need to enlighten them. As long as they keep underestimating me, I'll still have a tiny edge against them that I fully intend to exploit to the absolute max. Ok phenomenal blind-fighter's a bit of an exaggeration. I'm somewhere between high-crappy to mid-okay when it comes to martial arts. Fortunately most of my classmates are about as highly skilled as I am.
Thinking on things, I realized that I'd either wind up against Chaka or Jade this day, as I'd been doing a little too well against the random faces in the crowd lately. Ito always did like to shake things up a bit. Fortunately for me, Ito's not sadistic enough to throw me against Shroud again, or god forbid, Lancer or Punch.
"Lancer! Jericho!" Ito said sharply. "To the mat! Now!"
Oh shit, he WAS sadistic enough! Dear god in heaven I was doomed! Someone call my next of kin and send flowers to my tombstone! Greaaat, all the people who could provide me a good challenge ready and waiting for a go at the blind kid and what do I get? A goddamned Brick! Razorback I'm desperately wishing to exchange places with you RIGHT NOW!
Well wishing doesn't help, so I get up, tap my way with my cane, playing blind man to the hilt, tap Lancer's foot and feel around for the tape on the mat indicating my place. I toss the cane aside, and wait since Sensei wants me to use THAT particular toy not. He must've heard about my experiments on Stalwart, another buddy of mine. HEY! I know I only needed to test it once, but you know neat toys! Once is never enough! YOU get an exemplar-be-good-stick and try to resist the urge to use it whenever you possibly can without getting in trouble.
Give Hank credit, he did NOT look happy to be on the mat across from billy-blind-man. No matter how you cut it, only true fucktards don't get ill at the thought of picking on the handicapped. Ok, he knows I'm blind, and he doesn't like it. Gravy. I can work with this.
"Hey Hank, how's it going?" I grin at him.
"Could be better. This seem like a bit of a mis-match to you?" Hank, Hank, Hank. If only you knew what I had in store for you. Granted, I was never expecting to go against you, but I did pack a few brick tricks just in case. Let's see how you do with Jericho plus his brand-new bag of goodies. I slip my hands into the sleeves opposite each other and slip on a glovelike harness of leather and wire with a pair of metal contact points in the center.
I grin with a cockiness I definitely did NOT feel and prayed he would make a mistake I could capitalize on early and often. "You're right, Lancer. It kinda is. Tell you what, I'll do it with my eyes closed to even it up a bit."
Hank chuckled a bit. "I'll try not to hit you too hard. Just don't run into my fist by accident, ok?"
Fat chance of that happening. "Sure, so long as you remember I ain't much for fighting, we all good."
"You are aware that your face is absolutely covered in magic marker, right?"
"It is? How the hell did that happen?"
"Are you two ladies done jabbering at each other?" Sensei Tolman, I didn't see you there. And if you believe that I got a bridge to sell ya.
"Yes Tolman-Sensei," me and Hank speak the accustomed phrase simultaneously.
"Good. let's see if you boys pick up the game plan." She turned to Ito and he nodded, then she barked out "Hajime!"
Good 'ol Lancer, predictable as hell, went airborne as soon as Tolman spoke, so I put a kick through the spot he was standing a second ago, and began turning slowly to look like I was getting my bearings. I deliberately made it look like I was trying to extend my other four senses to figuring out where the hell he ghosted off to, fully realizing he was hanging not eight feet above me. Fliers are usually absolutely silent in flight unless they have wings, and are a bitch to pin down. Guess I'll have to be creative. Unfortunately my goody grab-bag is limited, and he's got a stacked deck. Oh well, if you can't beat 'em (and I can't unless Ito lets me bring a vulcan cannon to class) Confuse 'em.
Oh cute, he was inverted and descending slowly, hand reaching to catch me unawares. Closer... Closer... Come on Hank, I know I'm blind but get the fuck on with it. As he got close I flicked my wrists to signal the capacitors to charge on my odd little gloves.
When he reached just in range to grab the back of my Gi I snapped my hands straight up and held the two metal contact points on the Flashbang Express, and a loud BANG! with a brilliant strobing flash goes off right in the Brick's face. Foolio didn't see the sound filters I'm wearing under my dredlocks. He starts falling with a yelp, so I generously assist, grabbing HIS Gi and pulling down into a roll and smashing him face-first into the mat. YAY! I got the first shot in!
Getting cocky wasn't gonna help, so I dropped two jump-poppers and roll the hell away. Sure enough as he staggers to his feet, wiping his eyes the two small, half-dollar-sized devises jump to waist-level and burst out a shockwave in quick succession, throwing him first left, then right, into a padded wall. This is the way ya gotta play it with Bricks, get 'em off-balance and confused and KEEP them there.
Yes, I know, I said I'm not big on weapons, however I'm not above using nonlethal bits that might save my ass from bad things, such as the teenaged brick with a goddamned professional dancer's wiry build like Hank Declan.
I pitch my two Glop Grenades at him while he's still staggering, gluing him to a wall. That'll last only until he wises up and shakes off the flashbang. Yup, sure enough, his TK field is up and roaring as he yanks himself unceremoniously from the mound of goo against the wall. TK Bricks never cease to amaze me with the kinda force they toss around casually. That goo would have kept Diamondback under wraps for at least thirty seconds, with Hank it's like three. And that's only because he was still shaking off the flash and seeing stars.
Oh shit, here he comes to ruin my day! Ok no more mangled mighty mouse jokes, I promise.
As Hank flies in like a bulltet train I tap the metal bracers I have hidden up my sleeve together and duck as he slams into the low-power force-field and gets deflected a ways away. He also overloaded the field, and that takes about an hour to charge fully. I don't have another hour. Time to up the ante.
As he recovers I run my chubby black ass over to the red cage and use it as cover as he comes around the bend, all while pulling my NEXT trick out of my hidden pockets in my pants legs. This, like the grenade-toys is a johnny one-shot. A pair of thin metal rods, each on a capacitor slide into my waiting hands. I either needed to get him in the cage quick, or jump into it myself before he got TOO mad at me. His face was already screwing up in concentration.
Ever seen one of those rodeo clowns dodge a bull by ducking and diving around a barrel? Yeah? Well that was me, playing Rodeo clown and using the cage as a barrel. Tolman-Sensei and Ito-Sensei were both looking at me with a mix of amusement and shock, but didn't make a move to stop the match once I started playing dirty pool with my gadgets and devises. Speaking of Devises, Declan managed to get around the cage a bit quicker than me, after all he IS an exemplar and moves like greased goddamned lightning.
He caught me by the back of my Gi and hoisted me up like I was a child in his Daddy's arms. Let's not mince words here, if he'd been trying to hit and hurt me I'd be dead already at this point. Fortunately young Mr. Lancer (god I was gonna have fun with that codename) has a conscience about picking on those weaker than he is, and handicapped at that.
Flip the two prods down into a reverse grip, bring them together, and ZAPPPPP!!!!!
Hank dropped like a wet sack, dropping me too as the electricity arced and shocked the hell out of him. I dropped the now-useless prods and caught him, dragging him to the cage entrance before he could pull himself together... Oh shit.
I'd been suckered. Declan wasn't as out of it as I'd thought. What clued me in? Not much, except that I was being held in mid-air by the scruff twenty feet off the ground. Well shit, that wasn't cool, so I reverted to panicked human behavior, screaming, cussing, hitting him ineffectually and trying to kick him in the balls, six or seven times. Stupid TK field. Have I mentioned that this fight wasn't even close to being fair?
Well, predictably he flew me right to the cage, and I hit him with another flashbang right in the face, but he didn't let go. Dammit, so much for the cunning plan. He felt about for the cage door and surreptitiously dropped me inside, slamming the door closed.
The Kimba girls, of course, cheered. I got jeered and sat and grinned, counting away the seconds. I even started whistling to myself a bit as Declan managed to recover.
"You give up, boyo?" Tolman-Sensei walked up to the cage I was sitting in.
I held up a finger. "Wait for it."
Right on cue the shrieker-box I'd made just for TK bricks let loose an unholy shriek that had just about everyone on their knees, and feeling nauseous, except me. Sound filters. I love 'em, and after Halloween I'm never leaving home without 'em.
Poor Hank, he was still dazed when the shrieker, which was tuned to stick to a TK field like superglue fired off. Little known fact of force-fields. If you can talk and be heard through them, they would not defend against sonic attack. He staggered to his knees, just like everyone else, except Ito-sensei, Jade and Chaka. I swear, NOTHING slows that little Japanese guy down, ever.
"Now I acknowledge the match." I grinned.
Ito-Sensei frowned at me. "Jericho, your powers are supposed to be nullified in the cage."
"Hai Sensei, MY powers were nullified, however, I'm a devisor, and my devise was stuck to Lancer, and not in the cage with me." I smirked a bit.
Ito nodded approvingly as I helped Hank to his feet.
"You gonna be ok Hank?"
"Yeah, I'll be fine." He looked at me incredulously. "How the hell did you know I was above you?"
"I could smell you man, you need to take a shower." I left him with that comment and the jeers of his training squadmates, while he sniffed at his pits to see if he did, indeed, stink.
Oh well, score one for Lancer, but I do believe I proved that one should never underestimate the little guy. I know damned well that guys like Lancer are the ones who figure out what they did wrong, and won't get suckered the same way twice, and judging from the thoughtful expressions on my senseis' faces, I was gonna be playing with the clusterfuck of horror known as Team Kimba on the mat a lot more than I have in the past. Oh shit, maybe I should have just let Hank dump me in the cage from the get-go. Those kids just don't play FAIR.
So there it is, a typical day at Whateley academy. I figure any day at this school where you don't get folded, spindled and mutilated is a good day. I could go on and on, droning about my job as a medical assistant to Doctor Tenant after school's out, or my guitar session with Razorback after he's done doing his groundskeeping job but really. The meat and potatoes at Whateley Academy happens during classes normally. Yes, there's some interesting stuff that goes on. Remind me to tell you about some of the odd things that happens when the lights go out. Some days I miss curfew because I'm puttering around in the Devisor lab, trying to fix this or build that, and things can get really interesting I tell you what.
But for now, my story's told. It's Diamondback's turn to give her take on the school. After her, Razor will regale you with his stories of mischief and mayhem of the Ultraviolents who really aren't. He'll probably try to bitch about the fact that he'll never get laid. I dunno, I've seen that motherfucker's girlfriend and she's smokin'. Who is she? Well tell ya what, keep paying attention to what you see around here and the stories you may learn about. I'm sure you'll figure it out.
Welcome to Whateley Academy. Hope you like stories, because we got a few doozies to tell sooner or later. I do so love it when panic and mayhem come together.
Yeah yeah, I'm a Freak. Sue me.
Late that night, in the Devisor Lab...
Hands rattled the lock Jericho had kept on his locker. After a moment, the hands simply took the expedient route of shearing the lock off the whole thing, before the figure slipped inside. After a moment of searching he found what he was looking for, the design schematics for the Duplex wave generator Jericho had built for his armor, kindly logged to a CD that was filed neatly amongst all the other odds and ends of records the devisors were required to keep for the Lab so the teachers could track their progress. After finding the prize the figure slipped out of the lab, relocking the heavy doors on the way out.
Yes, this overlapping TK Brick energy field the boy had developed would be perfect for another project, one no one needed know about
(Outcast Corner, Take Two)
By Joe Gunnarson
Now I will tell you what I've done for you
Fifty-thousand tears I've cried
Screaming, deceiving, and bleeding for you
And you still won't hear me
Don't want your hand this time, I'll save myself
Maybe I'll wake up for once
Not tormented...Daily defeated by you
Just when I thought I'd reached the bottom -Evanescence 'Going Under'
Monday, November 6th, Whitman Cottage...
The dream always starts the same, me running skyclad through a beautiful garden This place is heavenly, a vision of perfection drawn from my own mind and served to me on a platter. Everything safe, everything serene, save one tree. I knew it's forbidden to touch it, but I had my bouts of curiosity and would slide up under it's shady branches and look up at the bright yellow fruits hanging from the branches amidst the leaves. The snake was there, as always, slithering like a terrifying nightmare of scales and fangs, too long to be real, and as wide as my hips. Even though I know what will happen I can't stop it. Screw what everyone tells you about lucid dreams and being in control. You can realize you're dreaming and still have no say about the nightmares your subconscious mind flings at you when it really wants to.
The snake slithered low on the branches and began speaking, whispering honeyed words of secrets and defiance. After all, who would know if I only took a small taste? As always the fruit comes away easily, too easily, as if breathing a breathy sigh of freedom. I put the soft flesh of the fruit to my mouth and took a bite. The taste was so sweet I couldn't stop until I had devoured the whole thing. Tree of knowledge, hah. Only thing I learned in this particular dream was just how screwed I could get.
The snake struck, sinking it's fangs into my shoulder and slipping back into the branches, chuckling softly at my stupidity. I fell to the ground and tried to run, then stumble, and finally crawl away. I could feel my body shutting down as I lost all strength in my limbs. I lay there, on my belly for who knows how long when I felt something warm and soft sliding around my legs, drawing me in. I could feel the fangs inside the mouth, drawing me into the snake's gullet. All I could do was panic and whimper as the thing enveloped my feet, my knees, then my hips, and seemed to pause. Then the creeping sensation began anew, and I wanted to scream. You'd think I'd have woken up by this point, but no. I never get that particular easy out.
When I was able to move I stood, only to find myself balanced on a trunk of a powerful serpent, scales covering my body and fangs pressing into my gums. God stands before me in the image of a Baptist preacher with a bald spot and eyes going white with glaucoma. Every cell in my body screamed in denial every time that thing spoke to me.
"As the serpent in the Garden, so shall ye be cast out, and be unclean. Leave this place, you are no longer welcome here."
I can't really say anything, don't want to say anything. I also don't want to slither out into the crowd gathered beyond the gates, all bedecked in cowboy hats and shit-kicker boots, carrying shotguns. One of the boys was even kind enough to make me a necktie, the kind that has six very distinctive loops and is made out of rope. Somewhere in the background the Devil's laughter echoed out at a slow, steady rhythm.
"Goddammit Diamondback, shut your fucking alarm clock off!" The illusion shattered and I open my eyes to realize the devil's laughter actually belongs to the beeping of the most obnoxious alarm clock known to man, the voice to a girl I had come to know and loathe. Trisha never shuts up once she gets started. "Just because you have to run your scaly ass under the fucking shower for an hour and a half doesn't mean you have to wake me up every morning!"
"Fuck off Trisha, not all of us can be deer to the hart like you." My voice is snarly, and I'd long since passed my tolerance level with this bitch, letting my other side show up.
Trisha is another animalistic GSD case like me, only in her case covered in downy, tan fur, with a short tail and deer-like legs. Other than the fact that she didn't have any skin showing she could have passed for human. Most girls at Whitman are paired off one more or less normal-looking girl to each freak-out like me. Lucky me, instead of a girl who could pass for normal on a bad day I got stuck with Bambi's bitchy baby sister.
"Least I don't look like a goddamned snake-freak."
"Shut up and go back to sleep."
"Don't tell me to shut up you hopeless.."
I hissed at her, showing off those lovely fangs of mine that I hate so much. She jolted back against the wall on the far side of her bed as I uncoiled from mine. I got good and tangled up the night before, and spent a good two minutes in a bleary haze untangling myself, and letting my tail slide off the matress and onto the floor. As I wrapped a towel around myself and grabbed my various soaps and sundries I looked at Trisha, who was huddled in a ball, whimpering. I felt guilty, but that girl had made my life pure hell for the last couple months and I was finally sick of it. People who look like venison factories should not mouth off to obvious carnivore types. It's not a bright idea, and she's lucky I don't have Razorback's temper, Bloodwolf's love for violence, or Phobos and Deimos' penchant for terroristic behavior.
Ok let me go back a bit. Trisha is scared of snakes, and I mean deathly scared. Unfortunately she didn't bother to tell anyone, and Ms. Savage has this nasty habit of wanting students with problems to bring said problems to her themselves. I can understand the logic, but in this case I wish she'd make an exception when I ask her to move that little nightmare away from me. Or me away from her. Either way, I don't care. So she's afraid of snakes, and she has begun to deal with that fear by channeling it into hating me and making my life miserable. I tried to help her, tried to be understanding, tried to not feel the creeping horror pouring off her in waves, but by the end of our third week she'd already taken to doing her level best to make sure I felt less than human. It worked more often than I care to admit.
I have no idea why or how she has convinced Ms. Savage that she's fine when she's blatantly hostile and terrified of me. Maybe she's convinced out house mom that she's trying to get over her fear. Fine, but she can do that elsewhere. Just being around her makes me fucking miserable. But I hadn't needed to slam it into her face, just yet. Unfortunately not all of me agreed on that point, and it's kinda hard to argue with yourself.
You didn't need to do that, I whispered silently in my mind.
No, but it stopped the argument, and might give us some peace and quiet for a little while, Ryan's voice whispered back.
Remind me not to talk to you before we've had Jericho force coffee down us in the morning.
I agree, I'm feeling a bit pissy. I think we're going to have another shedding party soon. The boy's voice in the back of my mind receded as I felt Ryan go back to watching and listening. No matter wether we disagreed on the methods, we invariably came to the same conclusions, just mostly from weird angles from one another. I'd known that sooner or later it would come down to putting the fear into Trish, I just hadn't been eager to do it. Never mind my conscience was riding me something fierce. No, Ryan is not my conscience.
At five in the morning no one but me is up and awake. Ok, strike the awake part and replace with mobile. I'm really not capable of much beyond slithering when I first wake up, or apparently delivering wordless death-threats. The mirror showed a nightmare of hair and scales, so I started slithering to the bathroom with all my gear to try and make my appearance somewhat less freaky. This takes a lot of work.
I get up and five in the morning to shower and clean up because I and the other Whitman girls on my floor have a routine. I go to the bathroom bright and early, most of the others wait until Phobos or Deimos give the all-clear. It's not a pleasent thing, seeing how most kids, wether they admit it or not, are either creeped out or terrified by nineteen-foot-long anacondas, even if said anaconda has a human torso, arms and head instead of the traditional reptile version. So I stand about five foot eight off the ground when I'm upright, then I have a bit over thirteen feet of tail trailing behind. I don't have legs anymore and I'm starting to forget what they feel like, honestly. Not like slithering and having too much body has gotten normal-feeling though, it's still creepy weird when I actually think about it.
I got into the big shower and started scrubbing. This process is involved, and it takes a while to get my whole body cleaned up, but when I do the brilliant greens of my scales shine through, as well as the glossy black diamond patterns that give me my codename. I don't have a single patch of human skin left on my body. I'm completely covered in scales, of which the belly scales of a snakes, or scutes as the biology teacher said, began right below my breasts. Oh yeah, being half snake's a creep-out and a half.
Once I finally got done I begin working on my waist-length, thick mop of reddish-brown hair. This is the only part of my body that looks human, still, so I take care of it. Shampoo, conditioner, good god I still don't know how the other girls do it with long hair. It takes forever to clean, then dry. I do it, because I like long hair. I just don't like cleaning long hair, but I do it every day or so.
Then again, maybe I'd have noticed the loose patches of scales and skin that had gone ghost-white on my back and the underside of my breasts if I hadn't been so focused on getting my mop clean. It's not like shedding hadn't happened before, and I became a screaming bitch when it did. You think I'd have learned to watch for it better by now.
When I finished I spent the requisite half-hour blow-drying and brushing out the long mane and look at the mirror. My face has green scales creeping in from my hairline, that fade into an almost human color. My eyes are still Ice-blue like they were before, when I thought I was just another normal kid in texas, but they have reptilian slits instead of normal pupils. As always, morbid fascination makes me open my mouth and inspect the fangs. They're long enough to press into pockets in my lower jaw, and hollow, with channels for some pretty nasty neurotoxic venom, which I can pump straight into my mouth and spit a fair distance. My tongue is forked and smooth, again like a snake, but it's still pink. Whenever I stick it out and bring it back in I can smell everything, so I wind up cloising my mouth in rapid order. Bathrooms are NOT the place to get a bloodhound's scenting power, no matter HOW clean you think they are. It's enough to gag a maggot.
On my way back to my room I nodded to Deimos, a friend of mine who was waiting to sound the all clear. The panicky types didn't want to be around me, I didn't want to feel the creeping horror and disgust rolling off them in waves. Being an empathic reciever is NOT fun sometimes, and I only pick up strong emotions, so it's like wading in a pool of whatever someone is feeling, and it creeps into my moods as well. Physical contact is a whole nother ballgame, as if I'm touching your skin I can feel every emotion running through your skull. I really can't say it's not useful, but some days I could do without it.
Trisha's gone when I arrive, and for that I'm grateful. While I get ready for breakfast and class I poke around and check all the security measures Jericho helped me install. For the last couple days some smartass had been creeping into the dorms and stealing panties. Whitman had already been hit, and I think I was the only girl on campus besides Sylene who didn't have a couple pairs taken. Kinda hard to wear the things without legs.
My clothing consists of a bunch of skirts and tops, as well as my Whateley uniforms. I really can't afford much, especially since my monetary income consists of my job as a lab assistant in the Science department. Most of that goes to defray the cost of my tuition. Beyond that I'm pretty much on my own. One black halter top and black skirt later and I'm out the door with all my books and things for the day. I spend as little time as possible in my room, makes Trisha's presence that much easier to stomach, and gives me time to calm down after our normal runs of screaming matches. I gave her one of the antivenom syringes I carry around, just in case she does ever piss me off enough to bite her. I hate her guts, but I'm not willing to risk a loss of self-control.
Hopefully no one gets curious enough to inject one of the damned things. Unlike most antivenoms, unless my undiluted venom is in your system, wether I bite you or spit it in your eyes, it will kill you. We found this out when one of the stoner girls nicked it thinking it was a heroin needle primed and ready to go. Don't ask me why she thought that, but she did. I got called into the medical labs and actually had to use my venom to counteract the shit that was tearing her nervous system to ribbons slowly. She was on the brink, so I wound up having to bite her arm. Not a pleasent experience for either of us. Washing the taste of human blood out of your mouth is just not fun and, contrary to Bloodwolf, it does NOT taste happy and it takes hours to get rid of it.
Ahh, the sweet sweet November cold. Lucky for me I'm warm-blooded, unlike Razorback, and part of my exemplar package came with a resistance to temperature extremes. It'll take a while for me to cool off enough to really notice, but when I do it is a rough time getting warmed back up again, so no, I'm not immune to temperature extremes, just resistant. Fire is not something I like to play with any more than normal humans.
First thing I notice when I get outside is this pale blue glow under the snow. I really wasn't sure what the hell it was, but I'd been noticing them all over campus sporadically. It was driving me nuts trying to figure out what I was seeing. I can't just leave well enough alone, nooooooo. I always have to poke until I understand it. This is not always the brightest thing in the world. My friend Cait swears I'm going to get caught in a faerie ring or something like that one of these days because I can't just leave things alone.
So this glowy shit under the snow has had my curiosity for a while. I swept the snow away from the spot where it was with my tail, clearing a four-foot circle of indistinct blue shit on the ground. I got low and poked at it a bit, but didn't really affect it much. Extending my senses like they showed me in beginner's magery, AKA Magic Theory for Newbies, got a faint echo of some kind of warding magic, but it was indistinct, like an echo in the dark. I always got the impression that the glow had a shape, or at least had one at some point in the past. I tried rubbing away some dirt and ice, but nothing became clearer. So I scratched at it and the whole damned circle winked out of existence. For all I knew I just blew the seventh seal of the fucking apocalypse. Way to go me. I gave up and started slithering towards the cafeteria. I needed food and my stomach, which extends through about four feet of tail, began growling.
Most of the other students coming and going to the Crystal Hall, or returning from the night classes give me a wide berth. It's the same deal as with Trisha on a much smaller scale. You'd think that mutants who could plow through entire mobs of normal people without getting winded wouldn't be afraid of a goddamned snake, even if it is as big as I am, but noooooo. Fortunately I don't get physically harassed very often, and the verbal harassment is sporadic. Mostly I'm just a pariah, save for a small handful of people who actually like me.
Speaking of liking me, Phobos and Deimos caught up to me and walked beside me, giving me just enough room to slither between them. The two are identical twins, save Phobos has flame-red hair as long as mine, and Deimos' hair is jet black. Both of them have three eyes, all a pale green color, and four arms, one pair right below the normal two. They had a pair of three-foot long reptilian tails each, and their legs were digitigraded, with dainty cloven hooves at the ends instead of feet. No matter where they go a creeping feeling of unease follows them. When they start getting mad that feeling drives straight through to terror, as their aura kicks in hard. It takes a fairly strong will to keep from running scared when they get going. Both of the two are beautiful, if not a little disturbing and mildly creepy to look at. Jericho says the same about me, and it's his way of complimenting me, but I don't see it.
Me and the Fury twins walked quietly to the Crystal hall. We never really said much to one another, but all three of us were empathic, so none of us needed to say much. Long and short of it was we felt safe around one another. No violent urges from me, and no fear from them. Add to that we have some level of respect for each others' abilities and personalities and you don't really need much else. Oh yeah, they're called the Fury twins because they do this crazy conjoinment thing into a monster straight from a demon's nightmare, all arms and heads and pure-pissed-off-reality-shredding horror. They're called Fury collectively when they do the merging thing. There is nothing pretty about that monster, just terror and pain. Only a few people can square off against Phobos and Deimos much less Fury.
Me and Razorback are two of them.
When we get into the Crystal Hall, we wait in line to get our food, let the Alphas cut in line and I load up my requisite trays of meat and begin hauling them over to Outcast Corner, the name of my training squad, and what we call our little slice of space that no one wants to intrude on. Phobos and Deimos invariably go to their own places to eat, as they are a bit... messy when eating. And by messy, I mean I've seen coyotes ripping apart a carcass with less gusto.
Word to the wise with those two. Never, ever start a fight with them in the area. They will beg, they will plead, they will try to defuse the situation. They are desperately terrified of what happens when people make the violence around them. As empath recievers if people around them start getting mad, they get mad, if people around them get violent, they feel violent. After a point it overwhelms them and you have two snarling exemplar 4's whipping and bouncing around tearing the everliving shit out of anything that comes within reach. After a point they will invariably merge into Fury, and then the fun really begins. Me, Jericho and Razorback had to shut down one of their rages last week, after getting the wounded bystanders the hell away. It wasn't fun as Jericho had to drop Razor as well to keep him from killing everyone in the area.
Upshot? Razorback got downgraded as a threat on the Ultraviolent list, and doesn't have to carry an armband and tracker bug. Downshot? Both Phobos and Deimos were still feeling really guilty. Unlike Razorback, both of them could remember what happens after they flip out and go crazy. Never mind several students had to be rushed to the infirmary because Bannockburn and Hela just HAD to start a fight and suck the twins into it. The two idiots weren't injured, lucky for them, but several bystanders were, especially since Hela can't freaking aim her magic properly.
Per usual, Razor and Jericho are both there already, tearing apart their trays in typical guy fashion. Razor's like me, a complete carnivore, and he eats as much as I do. That's impressive since I have to eat about thirty pounds of meat each day to sustain my metabolism. If I were cold-blooded, that same amount would keep me going for a few weeks. HIS metabolism is just insane. I figure if he were warm-blooded his blood would be classified by octane, rather than by plasma type.
As I sit down and coil my tail around the chair I notice that they're both looking haggard and worn out, like they haven't gotten enough sleep. Wonderful, it was going to be one of those days...
It doesn't help that I felt like a complete bitch by exploiting Trisha's fears like that. Yes, unlike my two compatriots, I have a conscience. Hell even my other side, Ryan, feels guilty about that. I just sat there wishing my two best friends would talk to me rather than be half-zonked from playing their guitars until oh-dark-stupid in the morning, after we had a simulator run against the Masterminds last night. Don't ask me why but our team seems to get the heavy simulator load. We've been up on the schedule more times than anyone else. We have another one scheduled for tonight, against the Wild Pack. I am NOT looking forward to tussling with Stormwolf.
"WAKE UP YOU TWO!" I finally yelled at them, and both Jericho and Razorback jerked as if slapped.
"Dammit Sandra, we were up all..." Jericho began. I, of course was having none of it, and fully intended to blame my hormones for what was me just being sadistic.
"I know, Jericho, you guys had a long night. I can't imagine how hard it is playing guitar till THREE IN THE FUCKING MORNING!" I started so sweetly, but yeah, raise a couple decibels and every guy in three tables cringes.
Razorback started signing and I held my finger up to stop him. "Now boys, we all have our oddball weekend classes today, and then we have another simulator run, this time against the Wild Pack." Razor and Jericho's jaws dropped. They were getting just as sick of the rapid-fire sim drills as I was. "So, we need to be awake tonight, because I don't wanna be the one that gets caught by Stormwolf without backup!"
Both of them dropped their heads sullenly, and something rather similar to "yes mother." slipped from Jericho's mouth. We all were beginning to hate the sims. We won against most opponents, but we lost to the heavy-handed players, like the Grunts, the Wild Pack and the so-called New Olympians more often than not. We did, however, have a rep for driving our enemies insane trying to pin us down.
"So Sandra, why are you in such a good mood this morning?" Jericho growled out between bites. "Normally us being fragged wouldn't bug you."
I looked at him, he was right, I was taking this far much more seriously than I should, and I was about due for my monthly AND I was already overdue to start shedding, according to the docs. Yes friends, screw the double-whammy of misery, I had the triple-play. Add in Trisha and I was in a really foul mood that morning.
"Roommate problems," I said as evenly as I could, but sure enough the old Texas twang was showing in my voice. She must've pissed me off more than I thought.
Jericho shook his head, "Why don't you talk to Ms. Savage about her? Jesus Diamond, this is getting bad. You after dealing with Trisha's worse than you with PMS jonesing to bite someone."
"I've tried! I've begged, I've pleaded, I've explained until I was blue in the fucking face! The only way I'm getting free of her is if I somehow develop a sudden need to be housed in Hawthorne, or learn to shift to a more human look and get moved to Dickinson or Poe or something!" I was exasperated, yeah anyone listening could tell by the southern-girl accent coming out like a tide, but this had been going on since school started.
-Why would you want to live in Poe? All the head-cases live there. You wanna live with Hippolyta, or the Kimba freakazoids?- Razor, always putting the bright spin on things, per usual.
"If it's for head-cases why isn't Joe in there," I gave Jericho a pointed look as I invoked his real name, "and you're the one with the poster of the pointy-eared redhead from the kimbas, you great crazy iguana! Don't be calling people freaks who yer fantasizing about dating."
"She's got you there, Razor." Jericho put in mildly. I don't know why, but him agreeing with me was more infuriating than anything else.
It dawned on me right then when I felt a splitting sensation on my back, and the joyous feling of raw, unhardened scales rubbing against linen that my mood was due to the fact that I was about to start shedding after all. I stood up, looked at them, and took a deep breath.
"Guys I'm shedding, just started. I'm gonna go see the docs and hide for a couple days." I didn't point out that I was suddenly mad enough to spit on the spot, or on them. They hadn't done anything to earn my anger, and they certainly didn't deserve to have to put up with me in pain being a bitch.
When they nodded solemnly I slithered out of the Crystal Hall, and towards the Infirmary. I actually had to spit a mouthful of my somewhat famed neurotoxin into the grass when my jaw clenched. I'd gotten the lovely feeling of skin tearing across my breasts, and wanted to scream. Instead I clenched my jaws and flooded my mouth with poison. Mental note: Do not kiss anyone for the next three hours. Not like I'm in any danger of THAT.
Friday, November 10th, Outside of Crystal Hall...
Four days, one period and a supersized bottle of midol later, I came out of my room willingly. Please don't make me describe in detail what it feels like to shed your entire skin. It's gross, it's messy and it hurts like hell, especially when combined with PMS like this episode was. I left the old skin in Trisha's bed by accident and went to the bathroom. It was just the tail part which had come off like an organic body stocking. Apparently she was not amused. Ok so it wasn't an accident, she'd been threatening to skin me on and off, so I thought I'd just give it to her. Ms. Savage wasn't amused either.
I'd spent the entire time huddled in my bed, trying not to move, breathe or think too much for fear of the splitting sensation and the feel of raw, unhardened scales rubbing on everything. I managed to avoid killing Trisha because she caught sight of me peeling away a good chunk of skin on my arm and whimpering. I'd almost swear I felt a twinge of sympathy coming off her, but I chalk it up to hallucinating. In any case she left me alone and didn't talk to me or bitch at me the whole time.
Good old Whateley. I was actually in a good mood since the new scales were just hard enough not to be bloody raw to the touch, and I now had a coloration akin to a neon sign that would last for another week before I settled back to my normal coloration. Upshot? I looked fresh as a daisy. Downshot? That was the two days of misery that I was over with at this point. Not much of a downshot once you sneak past that bit of stupidity.
So yeah, the Crystal Hall. I'll admit it's impressive, one of the Senior class legacies of another year at Whateley Academy. Every class likes to make it's mark, and tradition demands that each class build something lasting for the school. The Crystal Hall is one such Legacy, as is Arena 99, and the tunnels running to the three freak dorms.
Oh don't get pissy about me calling them the Freak Dorms, I live there too. It's not like most of us Whitman girls are gonna win the goddamned Miss America pageant any time soon. Hell, look at me, I'll be lucky if I can go out in public without small children screaming and running away from the monster. Never mind the adult reactions, which seem to be a more mature version of the kiddie emotional response.
Oh, the brawl with the Wild Pack in the simulators went about as expected, but without me. With the mood I was in the docs doped me up on antidepressants and painkillers and excused me from the Simulator exercise. Probably for the best, since I came within an asshair of biting or constricting a few people over those four days. That would not be happy, proving my folks right after all.
Oh yeah, I never told you about my folks. Painful subject so I'll try to keep most of the hatred from creeping into my voice. My folks are a pair of whitebread hicks from Kilgore, Texas who love the President, no matter how much a dingbat the president at the time may be, and attend Humans First! chapter meetings. Yeah, I was born to the H1 movement, lucky me.
My twin brother, Matthew, and I were identical twins until I got sick after one of Pastor Ferris' Hellfire and Damnation sermons about mutants. It was his favorite one, about how mutants are evil akin to the snake in the Garden of Eden. He's also a woman-hating Cheauvanist, so Eve got pretty well thrashed as evil rather than merely naive. Needless to say I got to hear this sermon a lot, to the point where I can recite it in my sleep. Jericho and his family heard it twice before they ceased going to church. Jericho going blind and developing weird science powers probably added to this.
Me and Matt were always tight, and did all the weird twin things you hear about on TV and in books, finishing each others' sentences, disguising ourselves as each other, the whole nine yards. Yes I am well aware of the fact that Twins cannot be identical when one is male and one is female. Weren't you listening to Jericho's story earlier? Why do you think Me, Jericho and Razor got tapped to break you in, our stunning good looks and record for golden-boy behavior? No, we got tapped because like you we're of the sexually dysfunctional crew just like you all are. Well, I'm pretty sure Jericho's dysfunctional after seeing his halloween costume. A friend of ours suggested it to Carson a while back so we could get ourselves some support and not be all alone. She'd be here, but she's riding herd on a thornie who's in the same boat and has problems only she and a few others can deal with easily.
So back to me and Matt. The two of us were a pair of lanky boys with reddish-brown hair and a love for pranks, moreso than Jericho there. Yeah, I got a bit subdued when I changed. Matt saw me first, saw my skin crawling and warping, saw my eyes go slitted. He screamed. I don't blame him, but I'll never forget the look of abject terror in his eyes when he saw what was happening to me. Mom and Dad heard him and came roaring up the stairs like God on a bad day. They screamed too.
I wound up running like I was a death row escapee that day. Mom, Dad and the Pastor rounded up a posse to find the demon masquerading as their son. It wasn't easy getting away, considering that three of the local deputies were in said posse. I wound up finding out just how flexible I was, and how strong I was becoming in rapid order. I'm not proud of it, but I left three grown men in the hospital, one is still in a coma.
Jericho found me running in terror from a group, and about crapped his drawers when I got caught by a guy and proceeded to throw him into the trailer of a passing Semi truck, through the walls. I'm still not sure what happened to him. Needless to say I bolted to Jericho's with him while he pelted me with questions, the answer to which was always "I don't know!" It took his parents about thirty seconds of watching my body shift to decide that letting the Churchies find me was about the same as signing my Death Warrant.
I spent a month in the basement, eating, sleeping and hiding. I changed from normal human boy to Snakewoman inside a month and a half, and the Turners were nice, but my appetite went from normal boy, which is bad, to about fifteen times my daily food intake almost overnight. They couldn't afford to feed me, especially after my body went fully carnivore. I tell you to this day green food makes me ill if I hold it too close to my face. I found out what happens when I actually DO eat it the hard way.
I found out from Jericho that Matthew was doing well, and feeling guilty as hell about outing me to the 'rents. Me and him went Wiccan three years before and never looked back. He thought I was going to die and it was all his fault. The Turners have promised to keep an eye out for him for me. They're also keeping an eye on Zach, Jericho's baby bro. Word on the street is when one kid goes mutant in the family it's a good bet you need to keep a close eye on the others. There is no doubt in my mind that Matthew will be a mutant. I can only pray he doesn't wind up like me.
Where was I before I got sidetracked? Oh yes, getting food, take one bilion and three. I slithered into the Crystal Hall late, as I'd stayed to do some extra credit in Mrs. Chulkris' class. Come to think of it, I'm usually the last one to Outcast Corner at any given time. Today it's probably just as well. One thing I noticed as I slithered into the Hall, Chief Delarose was there, with a girl with spiky blue hair that defied gravity, looking at the screens for a moment. I looked at the big announcement screens right on cue as they all clicked on at once, and Mrs. Carson's face appeared on the whole deal. Everyone got really quiet all at once.
"“Your attention please! Due to a recent altercation a student was nearly killed on Wednesday. Thanks to the quick intervention of some talented students this situation ended on a better note than we’d normally expect and the student in question has recovered from their injuries. It was ONLY the fast actions of the students there that saved the injured students life. Our investigations have shown it was due to a misunderstanding and a regrettable accident. In order to prevent any further accidents and the likely fatalities and serious injuries that would follow we are activating Section 33 of the Whateley Charter and declaring that ANY student or member of the Faculty attacking or engaging the student known as Tennyo in any but a properly supervised combat event or in provable self defense will be expelled and or prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law permissible. This applies to everyone!”
A picture of Tennyo appeared on the screens. After a few moments Mrs. Carson’s face reappeared.
“This action is not taken lightly. I have only done so after careful consultation with the other teachers and Supervisors. This is a serious situation and you will be expected to abide by this ruling. I repeat. If you attack or threaten this student you can and will be expelled from this school along with anyone else associated with the conflict. That means anyone encouraging someone who is ignorant or suggestible enough to be encouraged to do so. We are serious. This is no joke. Now go back to your dinner and good luck with your classes.”
I stopped and stared at the spiky haired girl and just wondered what could make her so dangerous that an announcement like that would come down from on high. Sure, she looked odd, and attractive, but nothing gave away some big super danger vibe. I could feel her creeping unease at being the sudden center of attention, but none of the markers that would pin an Ultraviolent personality on her. Whatever it was, I decided pushing and investigating might not be the brightest maneuver, so I followed her discretely until she sat down with her friends.
Ah yes, the Kimbas. A pack of hot girls and one cute guy who looked vastly out of place at the table. Color me petty, but I think they got off easy and can't help but feel a stab of jealousy whenever I see them. At least they could fit in with normal people for the most part. Their appearances wouldn't set small children off, screaming. Ah well, want in one hand, shit in the other, which one fills up first? I'm not going to waste time and effort hating people for getting genetically lucky. Never mind that's a level of petty that I'm really not capable of reaching. Jealousy, yes. Hatred, no.
I slithered over with my trays of meatstuff to the Outcast table to find Jericho and Razor in full gear, chortling and speculating on why Tennyo was on the no-fight list. I swear, once those two get going, there's no slowing them down.
"So I figure it's the fact that the docs are finally on to her secret diet of beans and Habenero peppers. One punch and she explodes, nuking and gassing the school." Of course, Jericho WOULD come up with that one, disgusting bastard that he is.
Razorback gave that oddball barking laugh of his and commenced the sign language. The remains of yet another of his vodors was sitting crushed into unrecognizable bits next to his tray.
"Break another one Razor?" I asked mildly as I coiled my lower body around the bottom of my seat so random passers-by and not so random assholes wouldn't stomp my tailtip.
-I hate those goddamned things. I broke it and suddenly I felt so much better.- Trust Razorback to come up with a post-destruction justification for his actions.
"We were just discussing the possible reasons for the Kimba kid getting on the short list today." Jericho smirked around a mouthful of food. I could feel the waves of self-satisfaction rolling off him like a bad tide.
"Out with it Jericho," I smirked, "you can fool Razor but you can't fool me. I can feel it, you're too smug. You know why."
Jericho snorted. "No I don't. All I know is Hippolyta was run into the Infirmary like she was gonna die Wednesday night. That redhead over at the Kimba table and Chaka right next to her did some woodgy mystic shit that pulled her ass out of the 'gonna die horribly and in great pain' closet. I got to help stabilize her, lucky me." He rubbed his left ribs lightly.
"You hurt?"
"Just a couple cracked ribs. I managed to twist outta the way at the last second. Tennyo did her a bad one there, and from what I got out of the grapevine, the only believable explanation's been accidental. I saw Tennyo's face when they hustled her off to Hawthorne. She looked like she killed someone and felt guilty." Jericho pulled his hand away from his ribs. "I dunno what the hell happened but it wasn't pretty."
-You said that the ribs got injured at work, not picking one with Hippo.- Razorback's signing was sharp and jerky, a sure sign he wasn't happy.
"Razor I work in medical on my off-time. Besides, she didn't do it on purpose. Shit happens around here."
"So why you two making cracks about Tennyo?" I was actually curious.
-Bored.-
"Keeps my mind off the ribs, and besides, what am I supposed to do, share dark speculation that Tennyo's homicidal? I don't buy it. Dangerous, maybe, but not homicidal."
I didn't question him more about it. When Jericho makes these judgement calls about people I seldom argue. He was usually right, and when he's not smarting off at God and all creation he's actually pretty insightful.
I WAS, however, irate that he hadn't told me about the ribs. I'm a novice mage, but I can heal cracked ribs in a couple of hours of channeling, instead of him living with the pain for a few weeks. The longer I'm a girl, the less I understand the boys. But this time he was gonna sit his ass down and let me fix him. I fully intended to make him suffer since he'd sat on the damned injury for two days, however.
I don't know why I came to Thuban's little meeting room he was setting up for his Faction Three group that he was pushing that night. I'd already had enough problems with the house mythologicals. The kids who looked like they were fantasy art rejects, and called themselves The Freakshow like it was just a big gag. I can't stand being around the lot of them for long. One at a time, yeah, but not all at once.
After classes were over and done with I slithered into the room quietly as you please and looked at the motley group gathered within. I recognized Jana and Sted on sight from Whitman, Skinner from Twain, Montana, and a few others. Thuban was there already, organizing the movie night, of course, and he positively reeked of satisfaction and anticipation. Of what I have no idea, nor am I sure I wanna find out. Both Razor and Jericho are leery of him for good reason, or so they say.
"Ah, Diamondback, ssso happy you could join us." Thuban was a smooth talker, even with a simple sentence like that. His entire body was covered in golden scales with eyes that were somewhere between mine and Razorback's on the reptilian scale. The oriental robe reminded me of nothing more than a Jedi's robes from Star Wars. In case you are wondering, yes, I think Jar-Jar needed to die, badly.
"Hello Thuban." I was more than willing to be polite to him while I tried to filter out the low undercurrent of fear from a few of the others in the room. My snakelike appearance does not go over well with most people, as I've mentioned. Most people really have to work through their gut fear of snakes.
Thuban walked over to me and smiled in that conniving way I've come to recognize over time. "So can we expect to see your friends tonight?"
I shook my head. "I'm here alone, Thuban. Jericho's working in the infirmary tonight and Razorback's just not really interested." There was a sigh of relief from a few of the Twain kids, including Montana. I like Razorback, I really do. He's a great guy. Most of the other students do not share my opinion of him. Then again most of them think I'm crazy for talking to Phobos and Deimos too.
Thuban's carefully neutral expression was undone by the sharp flash of disappointment and irritation. He WANTED Jericho and Razor here for some reason. Most folks would rather see them leave.
"No matter. Perhaps when they have time they'll come around." All I could do was nod to dragon-man and join the others.
I shuddered, and a feeling of creeping unease flowed over me like a cold wave. This part of the tunnels always gave me the willies before, but this time it was almost tangible, like a creeping feeling that something was shifting below, waiting for the right time to kill and eat you. Never mind I catch sight of some sickening green glowing flickers of light and a serious DO NOT TOUCH ME vibe in areas here and I really do not like the location Thuban picked. As they say in real estate, location, location, location. Ah well, any port in a storm. I decided after a few minutes standing silently that I should probably go and at least make an effort to pretend I was feeling social.
I wandered about for a bit, said hi to Jana and Sted, both of whom were wearing their Centaur forms at the time. I swear those two were thick as thieves some days. Jana was dark haired and Sted was blonde. Neither would be competing for the Whateley top 10 beauty queens, but then again, neither would I.
The TV in the corner was playing a video, old one at that. Some B-Grade horror movie with a monster, Yawn. Unfortunately that about sums up my first impression of Faction Three.
A couple of the boys I recognize looked at me with that odd mix of hope and fear that you get when they're debating asking someone out. I'm still not sure how to take that. Skinner didn't even bother with hopeful, and his emotions hit my shields like a battering ram. Skinner was miserable, with a capital M. His skin had gone completely transparent, leaving muscles and guts visually exposed for the world to see. Not pleasent by any stretch, and I just can't describe the intensity of how he felt. As soon as I felt his emotions hit mine, my mood took a turn for the worse.
My usual disquiet came to the forefront of my mind, and I suddenly realized that besides Skinner I was the top runner for the most creepy mutation in the house. I suddenly wanted to run and hide, and not come out until my skin became normal, my legs came back. If there had been a mirror in the room it would have been destroyed the second I laid eyes on it. As it stood, the eyes of the Faction Three kids seemed to reflect their emotions as it all crashed down on me.
Fear, Self-Loathing, Boredom, Disgust, anger, contempt all roared through my mind, drowning me, except for one, peace. I slammed my shields out, hard and focused on the feelings of peace and came to a boy about my age. I grabbed his outstretched hand and the emotions of the others slammed away, as if locked into an impenetrable vault. Yay for being an empathic reciever. Yay...Me. Now you know why I don't hang out with the GSD Hate-the-world-cliques. It can get pretty bad.
"You ok?" His voice seemed worried, after all I'd been reeling across the room. Fortunately physical contact drowns out the background noise and sort of locks me into one person's emotional fix.
"Yeah, I'll be ok," I managed to keep my voice from being too shaky. Yay me.
"You feel it too?" For a kid who'd been invited to a Faction Three meeting, he looked almost normal. The only things that set his pimply face apart from the norm were the thin spines that lay pressed against his face. Blonde hair was done in a spiky look that seemed almost impish when saddled with the rest of his face.
I nodded, what the hell am I supposed to do? Lie to the guy who's emotional state I'm using as a lightning rod to drown out the rest of the crowd? "Name's Diamondback. Thanks."
The boy smiled a bit, and didn't try to remove my hand from his. "I'm Frag. I just came to check out Thuban's little party. Gotta say, so far I'm not horribly impressed. Nothing different here than hiding under the local rocks if you ask me."
"Yeah, that's what Jericho and Razor said about it." I semi-smirked, looking around again. The other kids were kinda milling about, not saying much. Jana and Sted were talking to each other of course, but there was something missing. It was like there was nothing to help break the ice between the other kids so they sort of milled about, looked at each other, pretended to have a good time and were quiet.
"Jericho? The crazy Devisor who actually scammed a spot in the Sophmore floor at Twain?" Frag was looking somewhat stunned.
"Yeah, we been friends since we were like, in diapers."
"Did he always dress like that? Or did he suddenly lose his mind?" Frag's tone was light and joking.
Meh, I could be nice, but I decided to be a bit pissy. "No. He went blind when his devisor schtick kicked in."
"Ouch, so that's why he carries the cane?"
"Among other things." I looked over at Skinner again. He was staring at us talking away from everyone. I didn't need to be an empath to see the hurt there. I'd only been here for a few minutes, and because I couldn't handle the emotional backwash, all I wanted was to leave.
Frag looked around. "Hey, I'm headed to the Library. Care to tag along? This place... Nice idea, but I think it'll need some work before it's really a good place to hang."
I looked at him and nodded, reluctantly sliding my hand away from his as I did my best to shore up my mental shields. The emotional outpouring was pretty bad, but I was expecting it this time. Kinda pisses me off still that I couldn't muster the gumption to go talk to them, and maybe help them get their spirits up. There's nothing really wrong with the Faction three kids themselves besides being dealt a bad hand by genetics. Unfortunately, I don't think I could handle much more of the negative emotions. I really hoped Thuban could make this work, but he could count me out.
Frag and I left quietly, neither of us were particularly interested in sticking around for the rest of the meeting, and I found myself slithering along next to a boy who was lanky as hell with blonde hair and a few zits. All in all he wasn't bad looking if you discounted the little spines all over his face.
The library was quiet enough, with about ten people wandering about, looking through the books all told. Frag dropped his pack on a table and sat down. I coiled up around a chair and settled in while he watched. I didn't know why at the time, but every time I come into the reading area I can hear what sounds like dozens of voices reading, some excerpts from books, others whispering poetry, and all forming a maddening cacaphony that always goes silent when I feel about ready to scream. No I really don't want to get into why right now, it's bloody complicated.
"So what brought you to the Faction Three meeting?" Frag asked cheerfully.
"I don't know. I got the invite and decided to come and have a look. A couple friends of mine helped set up but they think it's a bad idea the way Thuban's setting it up. I wanted to see for myself."
"So, what do you think?"
I thought carefully for a moment and sighed. "I think it's going to fail if something isn't done. It's like there's too much nervousness and not enough..." I paused for a minute. "It's like a refugee camp in there, not a gathering of kids, ya know?"
Frag nodded and smirked. "Too much shit in one place, not nearly enough positive things to balance it out."
I don't know what..." I stopped for a moment when the whispering began again. The library seemed colder, darker somehow as I looked around. I felt anger directed at me and it seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. I looked over at Frag and saw that his eyes were seeming to fade into dark pools and his skin began cracking and flaking away, leaving something visible beneath, and what I was seeing made me want to scream.
"Dammit, looks like the meddlers caught on early. Gotta do this the hard way."
I snapped away as the spined, dissolving boy lunged forward towards me, flipping the chair I had been using across the library's reading area. The thing that tore away from the false skin wasn't human, wasn't mutant and was definitely not something that belonged at Whateley Academy. It looked humanish with black orb eyes and claws. It's mouth and nose were something akin to a Lamprey and it STANK.
It lunged again, trying to hook it's claws into my arm, and I freaked. I did NOT want that bastard touching me for anything so I swung wide and clocked it with a backhand that caused a good portion of it's ribcage to collapse with a gasping wheeze. It didn't even slow the bastard down. The claws came almost too fast for me to dodge away from, and where they struck it left some kind of sick, blackened energy residue. I didn't stop to discover what that residue was, seeing how I was rather intent on not being disembowelled.
I could regale you with a story of an epic battle or something like that but it was short, brutal and left me more confused than anything. I hit the thing with my tail and wrapped it, squeezing hard and the thing just... popped. One minute it was there, shrieking and thrashing like something being electrocuted, the next I got sprayed by this clear, foul-smelling transluscent goo that seemed to boil away on contact with air. I was dry after a moment.
When I looked around it was like the whole library had changed for a brief instant, with glowing blue spots that for a brief second coalesced into some kind of rune working I didn't recognize, and everything seemed somewhat alive. As it faded I saw the lamprey-thing flow back into existence as this creepy vision faded. It was looking at me with absolute and utter hatred when the Valkyrie crashed into it, spear blazing and shrieking a war cry. Then all of this faded to the normal library to which I had become accustomed over the last few months. The wood of the reading table where the thing's claws had scored looked weathered and aged, like they were hundreds of years older than what they should be, and still rotting as the black crud seeped into the wood.
As I looked around at everything sitting in the normality of the room I could only ask what the hell was going on. And I couldn't see any answers to those questions.
Valkyrie slammed her spear into the Caliban Skin-Walker, finally discorporating it into the aether. The bastards were always nearly impossible to ferret out at Whateley, since when they materialized their deformities helped them fit right in with the GSD crowd, and when they weren't they were remarkably adept at hiding, and weakening ward-barriers to the point where they could come and go as they pleased. The damned things were subtle until they had what they wanted, and usually erupted in an orgy of violence to attain whatever it was they wanted. The devil-things were definitely not high on her list of favorites when it came to the supernatural nasties of the Astral. Unfortunately, where there was one, you could usually find three more, and they fed on fear and hatred, which they were remarkably adept at instilling in their victims.
She recognized the girl the Caliban had been with, and was a bit stunned. Diamondback was usually one of the most cautious and reserved kids on campus, much less among the GSD crowd, even though she hung out with known Ultraviolent types like Razorback and the Fury twins. For a minute there, she would have sworn that Diamond was projecting, but she had faded out to where she was much like any other exemplar on campus, and her aura was blazing with a mix of fear and confusion, giving no sign that she was aware of the Astral guardian's presence.
Valkyrie had come into the library, tracking the thing's trail from the Faction Three meeting area just in time to see it attack Diamond and get it's physical manifestation ripped apart by the snake-girl. She had walked with the thing willingly, and if she called it, there was trouble because if she'd had to rip it apart then she had no control over the things. If she wasn't the one who called it, then it had been interested in her, which could be just as bad. Valkyrie needed to find out why.
"Diamondback!" She was irritated to see the girl gave no indicator that she heard or saw Valkyrie.
A few minutes of trying to get the girl's attention as she blithely slithered out of the library only garnered the Astral Squal member a lot of frustration. She'd seen Diamond looking right AT her when she attacked the devil that had glommed onto her. She had stared right AT the thing after it's physical form when she'd torn it up. Now she was ignoring Valkyrie, and it was frustrating as hell.
It was stupid impulse and frustration that caused Valkyrie to lash out. She never expected anything to come of it, and was shocked that it actually did anything, and she regretted giving into the impulse as soon as she did. It was unwarranted and unprofessional. The punch rocked Diamondback forward and threw her off-balance. Valkyrie stared in shock that she had actually affected the girl. She was equally shocked by the response, and how quickly the girl recovered.
Valkyrie picked herself back up off the astral ground, dazed and shocked. She'd never seen ANYTHING recover and move that fast in place. Diamond had whipped about so hard and fast, both fists and tail whipping through the seemingly empty space behind her. Valkyrie had caught a glancing hit from the girl's tail and been knocked a few feet away. When she recovered, Diamondback was cautiously scanning the area around her for her assailant, seeming to rock back and forth weirdly as her gaze passed right over Valkyrie three times before it registered.
Diamondback couldn't see her, and she was interacting directly with the Shadow World reflection of the physical world. This wasn't good. They already had their hands full keeping an eye on that newbie Heyoka, who was a class-A troublemaker, and now they had an exemplar gliding about while interacting with both sides at once, and likely not aware of it. It was kind of like wearing a giant "Kick Me" sign for every spiritual parasite, predator and opportunistic thing under the sun. She turned and sprinted towards Melville, looking for A.D. He might have some idea of what to do about this.
I was only about five hundred feet away from the when I felt someone clock me in the back of the head and pitched forward. It didn't really hurt, but DAMN it startled the hell out of me. I spun and lashed out with everything I had, feeling an impact with something before I realized that there was no one around for me to see. I figured it was one of the invisibrat types having fun with the GSD kid. I hoped I knocked them stupid. I kept looking for a few minutes, seeking the telltale signs of an invisible person. You know, sudden movement of plants, odd dust bits, footprints coming out of nowhere. Nada. It was like looking at a great big picture of nothing except normality.
After a few minutes I started slithering towards the tunnel access to Hawthorne. I knew Jericho and Razorback would be down there, as usual, jamming on their guitars at full volume, as usual.
I was right, and the two had a small audience of the usual suspects. Sue and Rhianne of the Underdogs were both there, cheerfully dancing with Nate. Jimmy Trauger was there with Chimera, just chilling and snogging a bit out of sight, per usual since Halloween was over. At least something good had come of that nightmare. Slab was standing watch, looking all disapproving of the two Outcast boys as they rocked out on their guitars never realizing his head was bobbing up and down in time with the music and he was actually enjoying it. Olympia of all people was banging on a wall in an unsteady rhythm, which she must have thought brilliant, but Jericho and Razor played on oblivious to her "help."
Razorback was wearing another of his savaged Pantera T-shirts and shorts, and he was ripping the riffs out at a fast pace that always threatened to snap the strings of his guitar like cut twine with his claws. Jericho was wearing a kilt...again... Only this kilt was a hideous mix of blue and green. Combat boots and a Hawaii Palm tree T-shirt finished off his latest protest against the fashion word. At least he wasn't in drag again. THAT had been fucking painful. I STILL hear people talking about the horror of the pink wrap and orange bloomers.
Razor and Jericho were doing a rendition of a song called "Let's go all the way," and were showing no signs of losing steam, so I found myself a seat, coiled up and just listened to the music and waited for the crowd to wander away so I could talk to the two of them. My day had been fucking weird and I needed to talk, badly.
It was about an hour and ten songs later when everyone finally cleared out. Razorback took the liberty of escorting the two Underdogs back to Melville. None of the Underdogs could really stand up to many people on campus on their own, so they tended to glom onto some of the other kids who had nasty opinions of bullies. Razor was one of those, and one or two of the Grunts did the same, as well as a couple of the Capes and most of the Wild Pack. They tended to be a bit antsy about just me, but any port in a storm. Besides, I hated bullies too.
"This has got to be the weirdest day I have had here yet, outside of that clusterfuck on Halloween." Ryan's voice echoed in the back of my brain.
"No shit" I murmered, "And I'll thank you not to bring back those fun memories when I'm trying to talk to Jericho."
"Oh quit whining. It's not like we have to go through THAT again any time soon, but damned if that Frag thing doesn't remind me of something."
Ryan had a point. There WAS something familiar about that Frag-thing, although I'm not so sure what. It's like one of those things you see once out of the corner of your eye or something. Seemed familiar, but escaped definition. My mental conversation was stopped short when Jericho came over.
"Sup Sandra? You been looking like something tried to chew on your tail again." Jericho must have seen my expression, because he wasn't trying to smartass his way into conversation.
I just started talking. I told him about the weird feelings, the Faction Three meeting, the blue glowing shit I keep seeing around campus, frag, and getting attacked by an invisible opponent outside the library.
"Damn, Sandra, I don't know what to say about all that. About the best I can do is hit the grapevine and see if anyone's been running prankster games and causing hallucinations and shit."
I looked at Jericho. "Yeah, well whatever is causing it, I'd like to stop now. I got enough problems with Trisha and her ever-present pain in my ass."
Jericho nodded. "Tell you what. Go get some sleep. I'll fill Razor in on what's up and put my ear to the ground for ya. If we figure out who's screwing with you I'll put the prank master act on them, and if that don't get 'em we can arrange some quality time with Razor and Jimmy or Phobos and Deimos."
I nodded, never really wanting to think about turning my Ultraviolent buddies loose on the unsuspecting, but at this point I was more than willing. I slithered into my room and passed out, ending yet another fun-filled day at Whateley. I pine for the days when something normal happens around here sometimes.
The two Calibans looked at the sleeping forms of the two girls and smiled. Each one slid their astral claws into the mind of the doe-like girl and began gleefully filling her mind and dreams with images of killer anacondas and of things without limbs eating her alive. They smiled as the girl's defiant nature twisted that fear into out and out hatred, and they gleefully replaced the anacondas with her roomate, and let things progress naturally from there. This was almost too easy, setting this one against the snake-girl, who would be their next target when they'd worn out this one.
Trisha screamed in her mind while the dream of the giant naga thing that was Diamondback picked her up and dropped her into it's mouth, swallowing her whole...
Saturday, November 11th
I guess the screaming the day after the whole Frag incident got everyone's attention. Perhaps it was me flying into the hallway upside-down to hit the wall just outside my room. I tell you now, I hate living with a telekinetic some days. I woke up to Trisha screaming and panicked, for a moment thinking we were under attack. Silly me. No sooner than I was up I found myself flying out through the doorway. Lucky for me Ms. Savage was already there to investigate the source of the screaming. Not so lucky for me in that I didn't have the nice door to slow my impact with the reinforced concrete wall.
I was dazed and confused, Ryan was pissed off and I was rapidly getting there myself, and I wound up fast-sliding back into my room screaming invective at the top of my lungs. Scared or not, confused or not, the TK toss was the last straw! I will admit, not my brightest maneuver, charging back to pummel my roomate while Ms. Savage was watching. Also not a bright idea to try to get close enough to pummel a telekinetic into the ground. I found myself blasted out of the room again, and the cries of "BRICK FIGHT!!!!" shot up and down the hall. Some kids were running for cover, some were coming to watch.
I was dimly aware of Ms. Savage yelling something, but my ears were ringing and my head was hurting. Oh, did I mention my lovely little roomate can lift upwards of three or so tons with her mind? And that a telekinetic jolt from her was only slightly LESS aggravating than getting hit by Lancer? Oh yeah, Lancer, you'll see him around sooner or later. He's hard to miss.
So back to getting nowhere, I finally snapped and started hissing out a long string of syllables I had learned to use to focus my will in magic lab, and a bright sphere of yellow light began pooling in my hand, bursting into flames and growing from the size of a pea to something roughly the size of my head over the next ten seconds or so. I managed to shrug off two more blasts and keep my concentration until Phobos and Deimos, the two lovely little maniacs tackled me and began dragging my thrashing, screaming ass away from the burgeoning firefight. Unfortunately they also broke my concentration, causing the head-size ball of fire to explode in a shower of four-inch tall pirate-things that screamed "Arrrrr!" and darted down the hallway, attempting to loot and plunder the young women gathered around the room. I heard Trisha scream again.
Did I mention the little pirates looked a lot like Jericho, and instead of cutlasses they were swinging around blind-man canes? Yes, it actually was as ludicrous as it sounds.
Phobos and Deimos, the two maniacal little angels dragged me away and were working on calming me down quietly. The pair of them had gotten the bright idea that letting me burn Trisha alive probably wouldn't be the grandest idea in the world, even if she RICHLY deserved it. I love my friends, I really do.
Ms. Savage had taken my absence as an opportunity to rush into the room and start calming my erstwhile roomate down. I take it she was fairly successful as the woman with eyes in the back of her head did not take a ballistic path into the wall where yours truly had hit. So I got to start yet another day of screaming, violence, wailing and gnashing of teeth with a bang. Yup. It must be Saturday.
When I got my temper reined in I stood up, balancing on my tail and waited. Phobos and Deimos put themselves between me and everyone else as a precaution. They don't like violence, but god forbid you went after their friends. Some days I really miss Phobos. She was a good friend, even if she was fucking terrifying as hell. Deimos is still around, and we hang out a lot, but she's still stressed.
Ms. Savage came trucking out of the room, shaking her head quietly and came over to see me. It was going to be one of those days. I could tell.
"Sandra are you ok?" At least Savage actually CARES wether or not you're hurt, or if you were in the wrong.
"Yeah, fine. Just a bit dazed. What the hell was that all about? One minute I'm asleep, the next minute I wake up to Trisha screaming like a banshee. I thought we were under attack, so I got up and suddenly the secrets of flight were revealed to me till my head hit the wall." Yeah, I was disgruntled and cranky.
"Apparently your roomate had some night terrors that hit her pretty hard. When she woke up she was panicked and hadn't realized the dream was over yet."
Deimos coughed in the background. I'd almost swear her cough sounded like "bullshit!"
Savage looked over at Deimos and then back at me. "It would probably be for the best if you gave her some space."
"Ok, can I get a new room and new roomate?" I asked for perhaps the trillionth time.
Savage sighed. "Sorry. We're still having problems getting the other rooms fixed. The whole third floor is shot to hell, and we don't have the space to shuffle anyone around."
"Please? I'll take a room with bullet holes in it! Anything! Just get me out of that room!" Oh yeah. some of the more opportunistic attackers on Halloween invaded Whitman on the sly. They blew the hell out of the third floor when they found the female Ultraviolents, including my two dear friends, skipping the party in favor of relaxing and listening to music and pounding the crap out of each other for giggles. They found the attackers to be highly entertaining. I still don't have the guts to ask Deimos what the hell they DID to those sons of bitches.
"No Sandra. You're just going to have to deal with things until everything gets fixed up. Quite frankly I can't understand why you two can't get along."
"Maybe because Trisha's a self-absorbed, egotistical little bint who's got less brainpower than your average rabbit?" Me and Ms. Savage both looked over at the twins. Phobos sat there with a beatific smile on her face, and Deimos added to the pile.
"Come on, I dunno what the hell's up but Trisha's been on Diamond's case since day one. And I don't mean in the friendly rivalry way she keeps telling you. I know what I feel and it's hatred and fear."
"No shit, why do you think we won't come over to this wing when we know both of them are here at the same time? " Phobos asked. "Every time we do the tension's so thick you could cut it with a knife, and we start imprinting homicidal fantasies because of the two of them. This is bullshit."
"Phobos! Deimos! That's enough out of you two! Go to your room and stay there until this is sorted out, or better yet, go to the Crystal Hall. Take Diamondback with you." I don't fucking know why oh why Ms. Savage always ignored us. It made no damned sense whatsoever.
I was getting mad, the Fury twins were getting mad, and we were beginning to feed off each other's rage. The whole three-way empathic reciever bit was a sreaming bitch to deal with some days.
The three of us left without another word. I was only wearing a nightgown and a bathrobe, but fuck it. If I went back into the room and saw Trisha I was going to bite her. In fact the idea was feeling more and more happy by the minute. Me and the twins did the right thing in the end, all three of us leaving Whitman in our bathrobes to go to Crystal Hall.
We got a few stares and antsy looks. When GSD girls blithely walk into the cafeteria sans clothing except their bathrobes it's a universal sign that all is not well in Whitman Cottage. The three of us collected our respective trays of dead animal product and went over to my team's little slice of space, dubbed Outcast Corner. Jericho and Razorback probably wouldn't wake up until right before lunch, so Phobos and Deimos sat with me.
I eyed the heaping piles of eggs that the cafeteria was always foisting on me. Turns out four dozen eggs costs less than a twenty-pound slab of ham. Screw them. I took the slab, too. I glanced up at my compatriots, who were already angrily shoveling food into their faces. Unlike me the two of them CAN eat vegetable matter. I miss the taste of simple things like apples and oranges, I tell you what.
"God I can't BELIEVE that bitch!" I let loose and it felt good. "I dunno what the fuck is wrong with her but goddammit I'm so sick and fucking tired of putting up with her I could spit!"
"Don't do that. You'd have to eat whatever you killed by accident." Deimos quipped with a sly smirk.
I just looked at her. "Ha...Ha..."
Phobos grinned. "Careful Diamond, your inner Texan's showing."
I began grumbling something about obnoxious friends making fun of me.
"Hey, it could have been worse, D. At least you don't have to go reporting to Delarose every four or so days."
Phobos had a point. Ultraviolents don't get much slack at Whateley. Hell, I got three living examples of why you shouldn't try to get into too many fights among my friends. Hell, most of my friends are more violent than I am. Phobos and Deimos weren't anywhere near the top of the UV list like Razor was, but they were still on the blotter.
"Yeah, Adrienne, I know, but I still wish someone would fucking listen to me once. It's like someone's interfering to make me as miserable as possible." Oh yeah, Phobos' name was Adrienne. Deimos is Janine. They hardly ever used their real names at school though.
Deimos finished shredding her tray first. Watching the two of them eat is not exactly pleasent, but then, Razorback's just as bad. At least Phobos and Deimos can chew with their mouths closed.
"So Diamond, what's going on? You've been on edge for the past day or so, and you're not shedding anymore."
I stopped. "Shit I don't know Jan. Just been having a rough time of it." As I began telling them about the weird blue glowy shit, and Faction Three and the weird-ass Frag thing I realized that Phobos was right. My inner Texan WAS showing. My southern-belle accent kicks in whenever I get really aggravated, and it only got worse during the telling.
"Damn, Sandra that's fucked up." Deimos nodded as her sister talked. I had just finished telling them about everything when we all heard Peeper's voice live, loud and in stereo.
"HEY LADIES!"
The three of us turned in unison and Greasy's camera went off rapidly, catching good pictures of us sitting there, slack-jawwed and stunned. None of us even had the presence of mind to pull the tops of our bathrobes tighter so the two little pervs couldn't get shots of our cleavage. As we sat there, Peeper smiled. We should have known better than to go to chow in our bathrobes.
"All right Greasy, pack it up. I think we have what we came for."
Greasy saw eight eyes narrow at once first, then the three of us stood in unison. He began backing away rapidly.
"Oh hell no." The words just slipped from my lips in a cold fashion that could only be later described as murderous.
"We're going to kill them." Phobos and Deimos were speaking in perfect unison.
I suppose I should thank Peeper and Greasy someday. They gave me and my two friends something to vent our anger on. About an hour of chasing, catching, and chasing some more I felt much better. Security found Peeper and Greasy, minus their camera equipment stuffed into a recycle bin about three hours later. Somehow each one was wearing a form-fitting sheath of metal that forensics determined had been a metal trash can before they were jammed inside in the fetal position and the cans crushed around them and crimped off to keep them from moving. I heard the screaming and whining was of epic proportions. And I will deny all knowledge of how those two dipshits came to this fate. I will say though, Greasy's a good photographer on the fly. Those pics were goooood. Too bad we're not letting them go. Ever.
When I slithered back into Whitman, I looked around and saw Stunner coming out.
"Hey Stunner, is Ms. Savage in right now?"
"Na she went out to go to the House moms meeting. Why, do you need something, Diamond?"
I smiled without flashing my fangs somehow. "Nah, just wondering. Thought I'd just talk to her a bit more about this morning. Get some things off my chest."
I slithered in to my room, opened the door and went inside. Trisha was there, of course, sitting at her desk, doing her homework like the good little princess that she is.
I can't believe you're actually going to do this, Ryan whispered in the back of my mind.
Gonna try to talk me out of it?
Oh hell no. Been waiting for this for MONTHS.
I let the bathrobe slip off and got dressed in my white skirt and matching halter. Trisha made a very big point of ignoring me. Ah well, her mistake.
Trisha may be a telekinetic and a powerful one at that, but she's not nearly as strong as I am, or as fast, in close quarters. I just reached over and grabbed her by her uniform, hoisted her out of her chair and flicked her onto her bed. I was on top of her before she could even figure out what was going on, much less what to do about it. I pressed an illusion of a skinning knife that I conjured up to her throat and hissed at her, letting my tongue flick out and tap her nose. Her eyes went from incredulous to absolute, paralyzed panic in two seconds flat.
"Now listen up, roomie and listen good," I was barely speaking above a whisper. "You're a fucking bitch. I can handle that, even though I have no fucking clue what your problem with me is. However, if you EVER attack me again I will cut you, string you up and gut you like roadkill in hunting season. You get me, venison? This is your final fucking notice. Do it again and you are food."
I didn't HAVE to lick her cheek with my forked tongue like I was tasting her. She was already panicked and whimpering, and when I did that she froze, solid. I let the knife fade away and slithered out the door quietly. When I got to the cottage front door, Trisha had composed herself enough to cut loose an ear-shattering shriek of pure terror. Meanwhile, I was slipping off to the bushes next to the cottage to puke my guts out.
I hate bullies, I really do, and what I did, felt like nothing but being one, never mind the look in her eyes when I told her I'd eat her if she pushed me again. By the goddess, she actually believed I'd do it. No doubt in her mind, whatsoever. To her it was as real as if I were ripping her arm off and stuffing it in my mouth, and the thought actually made me ill, hence the barfing. She actually believed I intended to kill her and eat her. The terror bleeding off her had been that primal.
A hand tapped me on the shoulder, and I spun, a little too fast, feeling woozy.
"Woah, woah, kid, calm down." The young man standing next to me wasn't exactly handsome, but he wasn't bad either, with dark hair and grey eyes. "I ain't here to start shit."
I nodded and went back to my bush and barfed up yet another load of meat and bile before my stomach was blissfully empty once again.
"Rough day I take it?"
All I could do is nod.
"Well I hope it gets better. I'm A.D. I'm with the senior class. You're Diamondback, right?"
"Yeah, I have that distinct misfortune." I slithered away from the stinking mess and wiped my mouth off. "What can I do for you?"
"Just came by to ask you about what happened in the library." A.D. saw me tense up and held his hands out disarmingly. "Look, you ain't in trouble and I'm not here to lecture you. I'm just trying to puzzle out what happened and why you got attacked. If it makes you feel better, FUBAR asked me to come talk to you, one of the psychic teachers if you haven't met him."
I stood there for a moment and for the second time, spilled my guts about the weird sights, sounds and the freak kid attacking me in the library after I met Faction Three. A.D. had that patronizing "I'm a senior" look down pat, but he didn't interrupt, listened intently and asked small questions every now and again.
"So you see and hear weird things all the time?" He asked, "Or is it really sporadic?"
"I dunno, seems to come and go. Just over the last couple days the weird-o-meter is spiking through the roof. But it's not all the time or even all the senses at once. It's just weird. I don't understand what it is."
A.D. looked thoughtful. "Well, I can't say for sure, but one or two of the teacher types are worried that you're starting to pull spirit attention somehow. I imagine it's true and they're fucking with you. I'd go talk to your magic teacher and find out some quick spells and warding bits to give the boot when you get a weird spike."
I nodded, it sounded reasonable. "All right, thanks for the advice. I'll go do that."
"No problem, Diamond, stay safe."
I'd actually found Earth Mother in the cafeteria about twenty minutes later. She was more than happy to provide me with a few books on spirit protection spells and other bits. Apparently she thought I'd be able to pick up on the advanced concepts pretty fast given my performance in her class, which while not stellar, was pretty well-grounded. I had an easier time than most getting the concepts dowen and the magic right even though I couldn't muster a lot of power except in certain spots around campus. Now if only Arena 99, range 5 to the gun monkey teachers, was one of those spots during the sim drills me and the boys were always being jacked through.
When I got back to Whitman I found myself slithering to my room and I heard crying. As I got closer I realized it was coming from my room. This couldn't be good. The door was cracked open and I heard Trish practically bawling and Ms. Savage's voice came through, unconcerned and calm as ever. She always used that tone with me, but never with anyone else I was aware of.
"Now Trisha I'm sure Diamondback would never do anything like that." I froze solid, remembering the little terroristic stunt I'd pulled earlier.
"But Ms. Savage, please! I can't stay with her anymore." From the sounds of it, Trisha was well beyond tears at this point. "I can't sleep, the nightmares are getting worse, and Diamond's fucking scary. Please can I get another roomate or another room?"
Was I feeling guilty? Oh hell yes. Was I going to go into the room while this was going on? Oh hell no. I was, however, going to sit in and listen quietly. I didn't know the little brat was having nightmares, I thought that her attacking me that morning had been just her being a little bitch and trying to cover her own ass.
"I'm sorry, Trisha, we can't move anyone around and until the third floor is fixed we're not going to be able to do anything about this."
I dunno about Trisha, but I was beginning to smell bullshit. This whole deal was beginning to taste sour and when I thought about it, there had been quite a few roomate shuffles in the time when me and Trish started fighting in our room.
A few minutes more of whining and cajoling, and Ms. Savage assuring her that nothing was wrong left me feeling a bit pissed. Something was starting to stink in Freak House Femme and me and my roomie seemed to be at the center of it. Wonderful. Now I was really starting to regret having threatened her with imminent death.
When Ms. Savage came out I had to shake my head to clear the image from my brain. For a second she looked like her eyes and ears were covered by some kind of gauzy substance, like a blindfold of some kind. When I blinked a few times everything was as it should be. She simply smiled at me and wandered on by.
When I slid into the room, Trisha saw me and froze. She had the same deer in headligfhts expression she had when I tossed her and my guts twisted into a knot when I saw it. I hadn't exactly meant to do her quite this bad. Bad, yeah, but only enough to make her leave me alone, not paralyze her. The raw terror bleeding off her was painful to feel.
"Trisha, turn, face the wall, take five deep breaths and count backwards from twenty." I spoke quietly, in as neutral a tone as I could manage. Thank god she could do that much. When she had taken some time, rather than being rigid and petrified she was shaking like there was an earthquake and sobbing.
"Can I turn around now?" Her voice was painful.
"I wouldn't just yet." I slid onto my bed and looked at her. "How long have you been asking Ms. Savage to get you into a new room?"
She didn't answer for a moment, stiffening up a bit. "Just answer Trisha. I'm not going to hurt you, been asking her to split us up myself since about the second week of school."
Trisha looked back at me, startled. "But she said you told her that there were no problems." Her voice was about as surprised as you can get.
"Told me the same about you, actually. I don't know what you think, but I'm empathic. Feeling you hate and fear me all the damned time hurts like hell and it isn't exactly fun. I want a new roomate. I been half-tempted to go bunk with the Fury Twins."
"But if you want to leave, and I want to, why is Ms. Savage not listening to us?"
I paused a second. "No idea, but it's really getting me pissed off. Something hinky's going on and I'm really not liking it."
"So what do we do?"
"Until we can get someone to listen we're stuck gutting things out. So may I suggest that we just try not to interact? You don't get snarky with me, I won't act like some kinda vicious bitch." Ok I still think she was the vicious bitch, but in this case I'm more than willing to compromise to get some peace.
"You're not gonna..."
"What, eat you? God, you fucking kidding me? One, that's still cannibalism, and two, eww. Once again, for good measure: Eww."
"I'll try."
"That's about all I can hope for, Trisha, go get some food or something. I need to study, and I don't need to have Jericho and Razor heckling my books while I do."
"Shouldn't they be getting ready to meet their folks?"
"What do you mean meeting their folks?"
I heard Trisha's low-voiced disbelief as she put two and two together. "Jesus Christ Diamond you forgot today is PARENT'S DAY???"
My jaw hit the floor and I think something akin to a whimper escaped from me for a moment.
The Caliban smiled as it reset the mask on the adult in the building. So long as it could maintain the gauzy film on the woman she'd be blind to it's activities with the snake and deer girls. It finished and reset the illusion to mask the power from the damned Astral meddlers on campus and began backtracking, picking up it's own trail in the building and cleaning up the mess. Wouldn't do to have the meddlers find the nest...
No, thankfully my folks didn't show up for Parent's Day. Jericho's did, as did Razorback's family. It was like our own twisted little reunion with mayhem. I gotta say that Razorback's baby brother was adorable, always harping at him to get a Dinosaur Ride. Jericho being mothered relentlessly by Mrs. Turner was a crack up and a half. But that's another story for another day. For now, I'm done, even though I leave more questions than answers, and believe me, there were no easy answers. Cleaning that mess up took a while, but I did get it cleaned up with some help.
Some people say we're the children of God, or Gaia, or the spirits. For me things never seem cut and dried and every question answered begets another question. making sense of everything is an unholy bitch, so I guess that makes me the Child of Confusion. That about described my mental state for a very long time.
Wednesday, November 15th
Several days later A.D. looked ridiculous standing in the room at Whitman in his astral bathrobe. He and Weaver looked down at the two sleeping girls, who were both thrashing fitfully. The snake girl's body seemed to shift and shimmer, fading into and out of seeming solidity while she moved and thrashed. Her aura was a pale mirror of her roomate who reeked of fear, in the throes of a nightmare, and the aural emotions seemed to be bleeding over.
"Hate to ask you to do this, Weaver." A.D. sipped his coffee.
The dark-skinned girl looked at him distastefully. "You sure this is the best way to do this, A.D.? This feels wrong, no matter how you cut it."
"I know, but this one's too unstable. She can't control it and I'm willing to bet that she couldn't stop anything on this side from hurting her except by accident. Besides, we've tried everything else and talking to her about this might get a bad response, and we gotta contend with her in the physical then. Not my idea of a happy day."
"So locking her out of the Astral's going to help?"
"It might. Valkyrie says this kid's smart as hell, cautious as all get out, and would be a good add if she could pull it together. As it stands she is more likely to get herself hurt."
Weaver sighed. "So when can we let her out?"
"That's just it. The way she's going we're looking at a Astral Exemplar who's active in both worlds at once. She may learn to control it, or she might wind up like Synergy. I hope she doesn't wind up like that, but you can't tell."
"If she does, then me binding her might not mean shit in a couple months. She'll just shred the bindings by herself. They're strong, but they can't hold someone with her kinda strength."
"The idea is to keep her protected from this side and protect this side from her until she stabilizes. We're probably going to have to keep a watch on her to repair the webs that tear." A.D. took a sip from an ever-full mug of coffee. "Never seen an astral exemplar who wasn't tampered with, or at least seriously fucked up."
"Wonderful. As if I don't have enough headaches watching over Heyoka."
"If you want, have Heyoka keep an eye out for her. Be a good task to keep that one occupied and out of trouble."
"Maybe. I'd like to get Heyoka figured out a bit more before I set him on anything like this. There's still too much about that kid I don't understand."
"Yeah, well, we been here too long. Let's get this done with."
"Wait, A.D. I think we should show this to Heyoka. He needs to see this."
A.D. paused and pondered for a few moments. "Agreed. I'll go get him, and FUBAR. I need to let Loius know what's going on." Without another word, A.D. flickered and vanished, a trick he said all the Astral Team would figure out sooner or later. Distance in the Shadow World was meaningless, according to him and Fuub.
A few tense minutes later, Heyoka entered, along with Louis and A.D. at a more "normal" pace.
"Oh Damn, and I thought I was screwed up," Heyoka looked down at the terminally GSD kid in front of him. Feathers were mixed into his dark hair, and he was the picture of surprised when he saw Diamondback's form twitching, coiling and uncoiling, becoming more real to the senses and fading out, sometimes in patches. The whole process was uneven and unnatural, though it resembled what happened when he slipped halfway through occasionally.
"Louis, A.D. thinks we need to bind her." Weaver looked a bit disgusted at the thought.
Fubar nodded solemnly. "From what I see here it's probably for the best. Be careful here. There's a lot more to this girl than what we're seeing, and I'm seeing something that looks odd. I need to talk to Lodgeman. I'm going to suggest that you keep an eye on her, see how she's developing. Be cautious, this girl's riding a storm, almost like she's dreaming two dreams at once that come together and mesh."
When FUBAR flickered and left, Heyoka looked up. "Binding?"
Weaver nodded while A.D. watched impassively, sipping at his coffee mug. "This is Diamondback. It looks like she's changing somehow, or maybe starting to wake up. She can see the astral and interact with it while awake, and moving. Unfortunately she's unstable, and she drifts in and out like the tide, only randomly. If we let her go as is she might kill herself, or get worse done to her before she can be stable."
"So you're binding her." Heyoka nodded. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"I'll explain." A.D. let his mug fade and he walked to Weaver and nodded.
Weaver went silent, seeming to be a statue, as hundreds of tiny spiders seemed to swarm all over the unconscious snake-girl on the bed. Each one began producing tiny strands of silvery silk, and began wrapping the girl. Where the silk touched, she seemed to fade, with the silken cords, becoming less real, and more a phantasm in the shadows. Even as A.D. talked, Heyoka was mesmerized and a bit horrified as the reality sank in as the girl slowly became a shadow wrapped in a translucent coccoon.
"Every now and again we have to deal with someone who's powers place them in too much danger here, and can't be taught, Diamondback is one of them. She's too intermittent. And every now and again, we find someone who is too dangerous, or won't follow the rules that keep this place safe. Weaver binds them with her spiders, keeping them unable to see the Astral plane on any level. No looking across, no talking to the spirits, no projecting. Mind and spirit become locked to the flesh. It's how we deal with people who are too dangerous to themselves and others to be allowed to run unchecked." A.D. looked very pointedly at Heyoka.
Heyoka stared at A.D., a look of fear and horror in his eyes as he realized what, exactly the point of this demonstration was, beyond having him see the effects of the binding on someone who could be hurt or killed by accident. "It isn't permanent, isn't it?"
"Not for her," Weaver said, looking upset as she sealed the girl's fate, "If her spirit catches up to her flesh we are going to have a wild one here. The bindings are strong, but they can't take the kind of force an Exemplar brick like her can lay down. She'll tear loose and there won't be a damned thing we can do to keep her out. But for others, yes, it can be permanent, though we usually undo it after a time." She looked at Heyoka pleadingly. "I hate doing this. Please don't be the next one Heyoka."
Jamie tried to talk, and failed, ending up nodding solemnly, and watching with creeping unease as the heavily GSD girl slipped and faded from sight almost entirely.
The end?
(Outcast Corner, Take me away)
By Joe Gunnarson
Whateley Academy, September, 2007
Razorback looked at the small motley assembly in front of him as Diamondback finished her story. The expressions on the kids' faces ranged from wonderment to a trace of fear. The three kids all had laughed their asses off when Jericho had rolled through his tale of random Whateley mayhem, and had been startled, shocked and a bit unnerved by Diamond's rendition of some of her weirdest and most confusing moments early on during the pair's freshman year. It was his third year at the academy, and he didn't expect life to get any saner.
He looked up as the kids talked to themselves when Eldritch walked into the room under Hawthorne that the Outcasts used for their impromptu music practices and mini-concerts for whoever decided to pop by. This could range from nobody to half of Hawthorne, Whitman or Twain at any given time. Today, however the instruments weren't in attendance, as they had new freshmen to break in.
Eldritch led in an unassuming but fairly pretty girl, and settled her in next to the other three kids. Two girls, one boy and one somewhere in between but moving towards the male spectrum of life sat fidgeting and nervous. The girl Caitlin was leading in was already showing signs of severe GSD, as her legs were seeming to split at the bottoms and her ass seemed to expand into a white-furred spider-like abdomen that he knew would probably grow to terrifying proportions. The boys looked fairly normal and were probably going to be paired off with some of the heavier GSD freshmen who they would likely get along with, as was the tradition of Twain and Whitman.
The other girl was pale and gaunt as a vampire, in fact that was pretty much what she was at this point, given her fangs and sensitivity to sunlight. She hadn't yet shown signs of needing to drink blood, but everyone seemed to think that was the direction that she would go in. She would be housed in Whitman, while her spider-like compatriot would have to live in Hawthorne.
"So what'd I miss?" Eldritch was in a fairly cheerful mood, even though her charge seemed somewhat apprehensive.
"Not much, we got done showing off the basics, did the tour of the Whateley 'I'm cool so it's mandatory that you see my stuff' exhibit." Jericho ticked off fingers as he talked. "We got bored waiting for you so me and Diamond both told stories about the kinda crap that happens around here at the school, all before we met you of course. You're just too normal to make good conversational material."
Razorback about barked out with laughter at that. Among the Outcasts Caitlin tended to make Jericho look sane and stable. Her and Razor both sported bright red armbands with UV stamped in black. Both of them were on the Ultraviolents list due to their... temper issues.
"Well, we were going to have Razorback tell one with his vodor when you walked in." Diamondback grinned. She and Eldritch tended to be thick as thieves whenever they got together.
-Maybe we should have introductions for our fourth lunatic.- Razorback signed, pointing at Eldritch.
Jericho grinned and pointed to the tattooed amazon, "Freshmen, meet Eldritch, Eldritch, meet freshmen. There we go. Eldritch is yet another contestant on the gender bender game. Hence why we dragged you lot in together."
"You're enjoying this far too much. So you all said Razorback was going to tell a story?" She looked very pointedly at the blind, dredlocked black boy with the fashion sense that could sink the Bismark.
Razorback put on the necklace with the vodor, and moved up to center stage while his three friends sat back and grinned.
-Eldritch can go next.- The vodor was tinny and emotionless but it got the point across when combined with body language.
"Oh hell no lizardman. I can't tell a story for shit. You all hired me for the drums, not my vocal talents."
"You know for such a big girl, you can be a real wimp sometimes," Diamondback grinned.
"Yeah yeah, laugh it up oh poisonous one. By the way the Freshmen are looking kinda like deer in headlights. What have you been telling them?"
"Mostly to avoid Nex and the Ultraviolents."
"Gee, that's helpful."
Jericho nodded sagely. "All right, once Razorback finishes we can do the support-group-chat thing. Ready Razor?"
-No.-
The blind kid laughed. "Good to hear, now regale us or it's the cattle prod again."
Per usual he brought out nervous giggles in the freshmen. Razorback just sighed and shrugged, then began the windup for his story.
Monday, November 27th, 2006
There are days when I absolutely hate being a student here at Whateley. Little did I know it was going to be three days in a row of stress and screaming before all was said and done. It's no big secret that us Outcasts were on the short list for near-constant simulation drills at Arena 99, or Range 5 depending on who you talk to. It's supposed to be Arena 99, but the Range psychos and the Crisis Simulation Team invaded and now it's an eternal argument over what it's called depending on who's in charge at the time. I think it's Gunny Bardue's idea, personally. Him and that Smythe nut seem to take great joy in driving the tech-heads buggy without causing actual problems.
But like I said, well known fact that we're currently the most heavily drilled team in the school right now. How is it well known? We bitch about it loudly in the Crystal Hall and to whoever will listen. It's a stress-relief thing. So far during our first year we pretty much had a sim run three nights a week, minimum. Word from the Underground is that we actually have permanent statistics on the betting boards in Vegas because of it. Social underdogs we may be, but pushovers we are not.
This latest run had already been going for thirty minutes when the Grunts team finally rooted out the first signs of our presence in the simulation of the Chicago cityscape. I love Chicago, lots of places to creep, skulk, ambush and hide. I needed every one of them because these guys were good. Out of about eight runs against them so far we have had our asses fed to us on a platter eight times. It was rapidly apparent that we couldn't beat the odds in a straight-up fight so we started getting sneaky and mean. So far it's worked, but it means we lose about two or three hours of our free time every time we hit the sims with one of the power teams while they try to root our asses out, and avoid me and Diamondback playing movie monster thrill-killers. They also have to contend with Jericho's lattice of booby traps he sets for fun, amusement and the Outcast way.
"All right, the jerkeys are moving in on the target now," Jericho's voice came through on my comm set. He'd built the three subspace transmitters himself, and while not exactly subtle, they could get a lot more range than most communications microbeads. "Wait for them to get their two-man patrols going before we set the trap network live and start hunting. They'll put Mule on guard watch again, since he's the best for it."
"Think we'll beat these assholes this time?" Diamond sounded mildly bitter and irritated. I couldn't blame her. We tended to wind up outnumbered on these runs because of our mutations and methods.
Usually Whateley set up training teams around the traditional four-man super squad. A brick, a blaster, a brain and a speedster was the archetypical setup that they followed so that students could get used to the idea of working with other mutants who have dissimilar powers. We get to keep our three-man format because our powers have so much overlap. Well, except me, as I'm built exclusively for speed and in-your-face slashing and biting. Diamond's the strong Brick-type, but she's smarter than me and Jericho combined, and she can play blaster with magic if she can find a breather long enough to gather the energy for each spell. It's impressive, but it's freaking slow. Jericho's our devisor and gadgeteer. Of the three of us he's the weakest in physical combat, but he makes up for it by being a genius with booby traps and low, animal cunning. He also snaked a concussion blaster from another devisor that he helped build the power system for.
"Dunno about beat, Diamond, but I can say we will severely ruin their day." Jericho paused a moment and came back over the comm. "All right they're splitting off like usual. Breaker and Slapdash are patrolling along the west side of the battle area. Bomber and Bunker just took the north. Mule's on the target building with that giant cannon of his and Deadeye's nowhere to be seen, per usual. He'll be somewhere unobtrusive with his crosshairs on the prize no doubt."
"All right, so how we gonna play this?" Diamond seemed quiet.
I really hated being the only one who can't speak. All I can do is make dinosaur noises from this fanged muzzle of mine. Fortunately my ability to move like Speedy Gonzalez and hit like a jackhammer makes up for it... a lot.
"All right, let's mix this up a little. Every time we do this our heroes move in a patrol pattern that allows them to come back to the target zone fast. Razorback, I want you on Breaker and Slapdash. Keep that little shithead off my trap network, or better yet, run him into it. Diamond, you got Bomber and Bunker this time. Take out Bunker at all costs. If that little rocket-lobbing psychic gets into play we're screwed."
"Gotcha. What are you going to be doing?"
Jericho's voice carried a level of evil glee that was almost disturbing, until you compare it to the evil clown-cum-ambulance-driver outfit he was wearing. "I'm gonna ferret out our sniper. Deadeye's proven to be too much of a threat to let go in the past."
Diamond's voice hissed through the comm. "All right, I'm in position. Bunker's street-stalking while Bomber provides cover."
"All right you two, let's see how they handle this one. Targets are Bunker and Slapdash. Once they're down regroup at the rally point and bring the other two with you. Engage Breaker at point-blank so Bomber can't use his little cherry bombs. Diamond, do some mumbo-jumbo and make him fall down or something. That'll leave us with Mule and Deadeye."
I clicked my comm and moved out, ghosting to the western edge of the battle area as Jericho popped the lid on his traps. To my senses the area came alive with an electric humming noise and odd vibrations as well as metallic chitters as Jericho's presents activated and went live. Three seconds later, all hell broke loose.
Murphy's law states that no plan survives first contact with the enemy. I wanna find this Murphy guy and throttle the life out of him, then hire a necromancer to raise his corpse so I can use it for an eternal punching bag.
Holographic pedestrians and passers-by scattered when Jericho's toys began bouncing around and spraying streams of high-energy laser light everywhere. Don't let him bullshit you. He says he doesn't build weapons, but he's damned good at it. He just never uses them outside the simulators. Probably for the best since his idea of combat tricks tend to involve a lot of uncontrollable mayhem. I love it when a plan comes together.
I found Slapdash and Breaker separated about fifty yards apart trying to shoot down the sudden swarm of microlaser turrets and arachnoid things with mini-chainsaw bladed maws that kept trying to jump on them, or crawl up their legs and eviscerate them. You couldn't tell who was under the matte black riot armor and tinted visors under the helmets except by the powers they use, although Slapdash's heavy combat/power rig is rather distinctive he's not always the one driving it.
The storefront and skyscraper landscape took a pounding too and the crowded streets of the Chi-town cityscape erupted in chaos as holographic civilians dove for cover. The little mechanical nightmares attacked everything that moved, in keeping with our supposedly villainous intent on this run. I'm really getting sick of being the bad guy in these runs though. I will admit that watching one of Jericho's doberman-sized spider-hunters unloading an electron arc into a Macy's storefront and blasting out a good chunk of it was amusing as all hell. It was chaos, glorious and unfettered as cars were destroyed and the street seemed to come alive with things that had been using alleyways, rooftops and sewer grates as cover burst from their hiding places to help ransack the area.
Even as Slapdash blew off one of his EMP grenades and Breaker pulled his personal shockwave blast that more or less annihilated the little toy monsters crawling all over them I was halfway to my target, and thinking I might actually pull off this part of the mission without a hitch. Silly me.
I never even got close to Slapdash when both of the grunt boys' assault rifles began spitting bullets at me on the run. Whoever trained these jokers had definitely taught them how to do their jobs. Wish I could get our team an in-house combat trainer. I took four bullets in the side and got driven down an alleyway by the murderous fire. I shrieked and began to see red as my wounds began closing and I began hacking up the 7.62 millimeter slugs that liked to bury themselves in my ass whenever we squared off.
Keeping it together was almost impossible through the pain. I felt my rage rise and my inner beast began roaring for blood as my heartbeat tripled. I actually managed to hold out through the pain for a few seconds before my vision went red and I blacked out.
First thing you gotta remember about me and half of the fools wearing the various variations of the Ultraviolent armbands: we are damned close to incapable of controlling our tempers, to the tune of if you piss us off, we will probably try to kill you. This ain't a threat, or some kinda cocky bragging bit. It's a warning. Red armbands mean we have tempers that aren't anywhere near this side of the human norm. They call us ragers and any day we don't maim or kill someone by accident is a damned beautiful day.
Upshot of the rages? I don't have to remember what I did when I was out, and the docs say it causes my regeneration ability to spike through the roof. Downshot of the rages? I don't remember what happened so I could very well hurt someone I care about and never realize it. In the sims it's weird. I can't really hurt anyone, but I never know whether or not I'm still in the game until the red haze lifts.
In this particular case I came to while chasing an unfortunate car that happened to make the mistake of moving in my field of vision. I was in the process of ripping the roof off the holographic Chevy when I regained my senses while the holographic occupants screamed.
"Razor, Razor are you there?" Diamondback's voice was a welcome distraction as I leapt away from the wildly swerving car with it's panicked occupants.
I clicked the Mic once while I tried to get my bearings As I padded back in the direction I last saw Breaker and Slapdash I saw the shredded holographic corpses of no less than a dozen bystanders along the way, with clawmarks that I didn't need to look at closely to recognize my own handiwork. I really hate this rager crap. I can only be thankful that this is only a sim, and I'm supposed to be the bad guy.
"I got Bunker easy, but I'm pinned down in the sewers. Jericho got tagged by Deadeye, so he's out. Slapdash came back, Breaker's missing and I got the rest of the Grunts crawling up my ass! I need help!"
I clicked the comm again and put on my cruising speed of sixty miles per hour. I found Breaker's simulated dead ass where I'd left leave of my senses. I was a bit shocked at that, since Breaker's one of the mighty exemplar-fives in the school. Either he screwed up,. or I become a lot more deadly when I'm pissed off. In any case, I had to go find Diamond.
One manhole cover popped up later and I was in the storm drains, trucking off to hunt my favorite prey: Fools in the dark. I could hear screaming and shouts echoing through the storm drains as I cruised low and quiet through the tunnels. The voices were controlled but nervous. This was the part of the game the Grunts hated. This was the part where me and Diamondback got creative and played Sudden Death by Movie Monster Attack.
Except for Deadeye we'd gotten every single one of them at one time or another, just not enough of them to win. Problem with the grunts is they're really cagey and very coordinated. Unfortunately for yours truly, unless I have Jericho or Diamondback in support or I have some very specific circumstances in my favor, there's several of them I cannot touch.
Deadeye is the Grunts team leader and resident ninja. To my knowledge no one on campus has been able to ferret him out of his snipers' nests since his Sophomore year. If it weren't for the fact that he never misses with a firearm he'd be considered one of the low powered mutants on Whateley. Jericho checked his records once. In four years of Whateley Academy Deadeye has fired somewhere in the neighborhood of seven-hundred-fifty thousand rounds. He only has only missed eighteen times that the records show.
Breaker's the team's number two man, and he's a thundering hardass. As an Exemplar five he's probably the epitome of the words "shock trooper." Couple that with his ability to cause a twenty-meter detonation of concussive force that can rip concrete in all directions from his body and you have one nightmare fight on your hands. The fact that he's the tactics man of the Grunts only makes things worse.
Bomber's untouchable by me unless I can engineer things so I have the advantage. He's a flyer who can hit the four-hundred miles an hour mark, and has the capacity to create and throw or drop plasma balls that are powerful enough to vaporize some of the Bricks on campus. He's also a card-carrying nutcase. The only reason he's not an Ultraviolent like me, or in jail is because he's latched onto the Grunts as what he should model his behavior after.
Slapdash is the devisor, and while I've gotten him in the past, Diamond's the only one of us that can thump him on a regular basis. Word on the street is he's probably going to wind up the next Grunts leader even though Bomber's a Junior. He's a weapons devisor and some kind of electricity manifestor. Everyone dismisses Devisors and Gadgeteers as hired help at Whateley. From personal experience I know better.
Mule's the brick. Dear god that boy's not the most powerful TK on the planet but he's one of the best at what he does. He's like the everlasting gobstopper. No matter how bad you chew his ass up he keeps coming back for more. Add to his physical toughness the fact that he resists magic and psychics about as well as he soaks up bullets and you'll realize he's a rough one to deal with. Unfortunately Jericho's our only guy who can reliably put Mule outta commission, and Jericho got dropped by Deadeye.
Then there's Bunker, dear little bunker of the fiery temper and the mouth of a drill sergeant. The girl's not as disciplined or experienced, but she's a package deal psychic. Her worst trick is her ability to cause people to completely lose touch with reality in a wave of confusion, miscommunication and hallucination. Fortunately, like most psychics she's long on mental defenses, short on the realization that mages can screw her world up because she's not ready for them. Unfortunately she has a knack for exploiting the reverse tendency in mages. With Bunker and Diamond it's always the question of who gets the first shot off. Oh yeah, and some twit's been giving her a quad-tube rocket launcher with thermobaric rounds lately. Not fun.
Be glad you're not an Outcast. This is the kind of opponent spread we routinely get thrown up against by the wonderful sadists on the Whateley Teaching Staff. Oh shit, I'm off track, again.
So as I'm stalking the corridors of the Chi-town underground I hear the sounds of gunfire and screaming, then the audible blast of one of Bomber's plasma baseballs going off. Hope Sandra's not out of it, because if she is I'm screwed. Silence reigns for about five minutes before I hear the distinct sound of Slapdash screaming. Sweet, Sandra did the movie monster thing.
I hit all fours and started pouring on the speed when I came around a corner. There was Diamond, grappling with Slapdash, or more accurately, squeezing him with her tail while she fired his sidearm down the corridor to keep the Grunts' heads down. As I watched, Slapdash flickered and faded, then re-solidified. Good, that meant according to the sims he was dead, and it evicted him, leaving a holographic corpse in his place. It also meant Sandra had twice as many takedowns as I did. This couldn't fly.
As I came closer I poured on the speed as hard as I could then hit the circular storm drain wall at an angle, causing me to run up the wall, over the ceiling and down the other side in a crazed corkscrew maneuver into the two remaining Grunts in the tunnels. Gunfire pinged all over the place while they tried to track me. Sandra moved forward and I heard a loud BOOM from further down the tunnel and a large flash. Something flopped into the muck behind me as Diamond succumbed to Deadeye.
Shit, well this was it, it was more or less over, so I hit Mule like a sack of hammers and proceeded to tear his armor apart, trying to get past him and onto Deadeye. No such luck. He grabbed me and screamed something and my vision filled with the bright blue-white light of the plasma flare that took us both.
Her cohort looked over at her. "Yeah I did. Kinda a disappointing run for the Outcasts, but they did manage to do some damage."
"Hey as long as the bookies in Vegas keep wanting the three of them on the show it's all golden. Razorback's stunt running along the walls and ceiling in the Storm Drains down there was something straight outta Aliens."
"Agreed. And speaking of which, our account just cleared another check from the bookies and they're requesting another run."
"They'll have it tomorrow night. Bardue's been predictable, and no one realizes the Outcasts aren't supposed to be on the Active track for the sims."
"Who they up against?"
The girl looked down at the computer and grinned. "Oh this should be good. Bardue's got them up against another unconventional group. The Goobers."
"That'll make things interesting. What's the spread?"
"Five to one the Outcasts paste them. The three of them have been getting visibly pissed off over the last couple weeks in the sims. I'm setting up the Arena 99 feeds for the run tomorrow night."
"Put me down for twenty that Jericho actually nails someone this time."
"Done."
As the bright spots faded from my vision I realized the sim was over and done with from the blank, hex-grid room with all manner of sensors and emitters clustered all over. Finally. That was another hour of my life I would never get back, burned off to the combat training gods who oversaw the sadistic training schedule here at Bizarro High School. After the glare blindness faded I palmed the keypad and walked out into the hallway. After a year and a few months at Whateley I knew my way around so I trucked over to the ready room for the post-action debrief.
Outside the ready room I heard the three dead grunts before I saw them. Sure enough there was Breaker, Slapdash and Bunker, in the push-up position, counting out push-ups with a rather severe looking instructor with buzzed black hair and old-school camouflage uniform with a black beret overseeing, while smirking at them. Must be one of the range guys. I've seen him before around campus quite a bit, but never really talked to him. I never had much reason to talk to the Whateley gun monkeys anyway.
I suppressed a chuckle that would have sounded wrong anyway and went inside to see the rest of today's Sim course victims all present and accounted for. Apparently my arrival was the signal for the three downed Grunts to get up and come in as well. The instructor didn't follow us.
All of us were decked out in our heroic and villainous best, courtesy of the costuming classes we all have to take, which I think is retarded. Even with the best costuming on Earth, there's no way me or Diamondback will ever be mistaken for anything but ourselves. But rules are rules and Arena 99 has a Masks Required policy to protect our identities, so here I am decked out in matte black armor plating with red runic markings that Diamondback came up with. My mask looks like a form-fitting piece that covers the upper part of my face, above my jaw.
Diamondback was all decked out in a blood-red skin-tight robe with a hood and white skull mask, in keeping with the whole evil dude look. It looks eerie the way her tail flows out from under the robe. Ok she was lazy when she made it. Like me, she sees little point in it as she's probably one of the most easily recognizable people in the freaking world, outfit or no. Her scales and tail are a dead giveaway.
Jericho was decked out in an EMT uniform, complete with an evil clown painted mask that was currently sitting atop his dreads. The name tag read Pennywise. Trust Jericho to be a thermonuclear smartass in all things.
The Grunts all wore matching Matte black body armor with matching helmets and shaded visors, thusly obeying the Masks rule. Word on the street is the armor is something called Dragonskin. I'd believe it, considering how much effort it takes to destroy the armor enough to get to the chewy center.
Gunny Bardue was already there, along with Mr. Andrews, the head tech on the Arena sim. Both of them nodded to each of us as we entered and took our seats. The grunts looked smug, as always. So far they were undefeated in the sims and they knew they had bragging rights on most of the school, having even taken down the Wild Pack, the Capes, and the "normal" training squads where students got mixed and matched according to the arcane training schedule. Personally I think they cheat, but I can't prove it.
It was unusual to have a group like me, Jericho and Diamond on regular sim runs together. Most of the time it was by Whateley Academy's team formula, which I believe is a load of crap anyway. How often are ya gonna actually find a balanced fight in real life? Six-on-three against the Grunts was actually realistic. It's how I'd have done it. But for some reason some of the Cliques like the Capes and occasionally the Turks would do the sim runs together. I dunno why it happened, and no one's ever bothered to tell me.
"All right settle down," Gunny Bardue began, "We'll get started with our bad guys for this run. You Outcasts have anything to say before we get to it?"
Hell yeah I had a lot to say, beginning with 'this is bullshit,' and ending somewhere with 'I need my beauty sleep.' Being as sexy as I am takes a lot of talent. What, you think these scales polish themselves?
"Yeah, why the hell is it every time we come in here we're outnumbered?" Jericho didn't even bother to raise his hand.
Bardue smirked. "Luck of the draw. Besides, watching the battle recordings of the lot of you if we gave you more teammates, you wouldn't be challenged as much."
I leaned over to Diamondback in the seat next to me. -And of course we couldn't have the Simulator champs challenged in earnest too often now could we?- I signed.
Diamond gave a slight smile. -There's gotta be more to it than that. That answer is loaded with 'I'm the teacher and this is a secret' bullshit.- She could sign back, and was better than Jericho at it, which was no surprise., Jericho liked to just get by, the lazy ass that he is.
"Cool, can we get a damned even fight one of these days?" I was a bit surprised. Jericho wasn't normally this blatantly belligerent, but then he'd had bags under his eyes for the last three nights trying to catch up in his schoolwork and getting his project in the Devisor lab up and running.
"Boy do you have a problem with my training schedule?" Even being blind as a bat, Jericho's weird-o-vision couldn't miss Bardue's expression, or his tone. And he wasn't daft enough to want to go cleaning up the messes in Hawthorne.
"No sir. Sorry, I'm just tired." Jericho's response just goes to show you. Never underestimate the intimidation power of a sixty year old black man, who happens to have been a Marine Drill Sergeant or something. Or Drill Instructor, whatever. Military terminology isn't exactly my high point. My experiences with the military are limited to getting shot at with automatic weapons. Long story. Don't ask.
"Thought so." Bardue turned to the viewscreen and pulled down the image of me charging Breaker and Slapdash while Jericho's little nut-bots were doing the crazy-shoot-me thing. "Breaker what the hell were you thinking here? We've seen this twice now, and each time you've gotten eaten by Razorback."
The Chinese exemplar took off his helmet and sighed. "I got caught up Gunny. Razor was going for Slapdash, and we needed to be able to neutralize Jericho's battle-bug things or we'd have gotten picked apart. Dragonskin armor only does so much against low-power laser-burns and if you get enough of them we'd have been cooked alive. Needed Slapdash functional until Deadeye took out Jericho."
Bardue nodded, seemingly satisfied, and turned to Jericho. "All right, you're supposed to be the leader here. why'd you split your team into singles? I understand the whole death by a thousand frustrations bit, but the three of you would have been a lot more effective as a cohesive unit."
"We're working on it, but we keep bumping into the same problems with that. Nine times out of ten we're outnumbered and outgunned." Jericho was really tired, speaking slowly and having a hard time keeping his eyes open. "Never mind that on any given team we've fought the ones who thrash us consistently have something that can take us out johnny-one-shot style. The Grunts have two of those."
"Explain."
The rest of the grunts leaned forward. Deadeye was taking notes in the corner and Mule was leaning against a wall, alternately keeping an eye on me and Bomber. Bunker was trading evil looks with Diamondback, and the rest of the Grunts looked bored. Me, I was just wanting the training schedule to slow down at this point.
Jericho managed to look somewhat awake and hostile. "You got two teams and two floaters in the Grunts. Breaker and Slapdash and Bomber and Bunker on one team with Mule and Deadeye floating. Bomber does that plasma thing and as the sim shows, even Razorback can't do much against atomic level vaporization. Then you got Bunker with her psychic schtick and confusion aura. But that's not her worst trait. The worst part is what she's usually armed with those thermobaric rounds she packs in that four-shot launcher of hers that can burn out an entire building."
Bardue nodded. "So you had Diamondback take her out first."
"Yeah, She's tricksy, but she keeps making the mistake of discounting mages. Diamond may take a while to charge up a shot, but Bunker's usually not ready for it, and vice-versa."
Diamond cut in at this point. "And Bunker's quicker on the power draw than I am, so we're at a serious disadvantage here. Gotta drop her first or the rest of us are screwed and we get mopped up like happened the first time we played sim chumps with these guys."
Bunker, of course, got a smug look on her face.
"Did it ever occur to you all to simply sneak in and take the objective while the Grunts were patrolling?" Bardue pulled up the battle map and pointed at the building Mule had been guarding until the fracas had escalated to the sewers. "The objective was item retrieval, not "wipe out the home team."
-You try slipping past that bastard sometime. He looks big and dumb but outside Deadeye he's the best at catching sneakers. Never mind he's smarter than he looks.-
"Ok what the hell did he just say?" Bardue pointed at me. I repeated, Jericho translated.
"Gee, thanks Razor, you're a pal." Mule grinned widely when I flipped him the middle-finger salute. Me and him get along pretty well after last year. Moreso than most, but only because we both have this thing for pounding bullies that crop up around campus. Mule's a total Boy Scout type, but don't hold that against him. He can be a decent human on occasion.
All in all us Outcasts and the Grunts manage to keep things civil. We just don't run in the same circles, and occasionally we do something wiseass that tickles their funny bone. They are somewhat less amused by our antics in the sims, since we have come fairly close to stomping them once or twice. Ok ok, we kept getting our asses handed to us. Jesus, let me enjoy my delusions!
"In any case," Bardue began, pointedly ignoring the rude gesture, "Jericho found out that Deadeye was also covering the target zone. Speaking of which, Jericho I recommend you find yourself some kind of armor. Of all the people who run these sims you're one of the most vulnerable."
"Working on it. Shi... Stuff's expensive and I have to live on a budget. Not all of us have wealthy mommies and daddies."
This time it was Breaker who gave Jericho the finger.
"All right, children, I want to keep this short and sweet. Outcasts have sims tomorrow night against the Goobers, their first time in the sims as a group, and the next morning against the capes." Our three cries of protest were firmly ignored. "Go get some sleep."
He turned to the Grunts. "As for you little rats, I'd yell at you, but I want to get home to my beer, so I'm delegating your ass-chewing. Go see Sergeant-Major Smythe on Range 4 for your full debrief and analasys. He's wide awake and looking forward to your arrival. And since he owes me for covering him last month he's missing his rugby game on the tube for the benefit of your education."
A near unanimous cry of "Oh shit." "Goddammit!" and "Jesus you Outcasts always get us in trouble," rang out in the room as Grunts and Outcasts gathered up our gear and wandered off to our rooms and "Incentive training."
Tuesday, November 28th, 2006
When I arrived at the Crystal Hall the next morning I recieved a treat to the senses. That's right, Jericho in his flaming weird best sitting at the traditional table wearing his kilt, penny loafers and a bright pink shirt with "FUCK YOU!" in blue lettering emblazoned across his chest. Yup, Jericho was in a grand mood, I could tell.
I sat down, grumbled to myself and proceeded to assault my tray of meat in various forms ranging from "egg product" to "well done" with a smattering of still screaming and bleeding. I decided that today would be a good day to shred through it, and I did so. Then I went back for seconds. Then I went back for thirds, all while my partner in crime sipped coffee from his gynormous sixty-four ounce coffee mug. By all rights he should be dead from caffeine overload.
By the time Diamondback arrived things were starting to become normal. Jericho was looking somewhat awake, and I was ready to assault the day and all contained within. I wonder if Delarose is cued into my weird little moods. It might explain his near-psychic knack for predicting the days I was going to have a blowout.
"How you doing, guys" Diamondback slid into her customary seat and began tearing apart HER pile of meat foods and we played the carnivore game while Jericho stared at his pathetic, untouched plate of two eggs, a slice of bacon and a grapefruit half.
"Tired. So very tired." Jericho took another pull on his mass-dose of coffee while starting at his plate disgustedly.
Sandra and I looked at each other and rolled our eyes and I picked up Jericho's plate and dumped the bastard, bringing back a real breakfast rather than this diet crap he's been going on with. I'll give the boy credit, since apparently he's lost about a hundred pounds, but he's also doing sim runs that are stressful as hell, and I've been helping him in the weight rooms to strengthen up. This california anorexic diet shit has gotta go, otherwise he'll kill himself.
I dropped the plate in front of him and he looked in my general direction, confused.
-Eat, jackass. You're starving yourself too much.- I signed at him once he realized what I had done.
"I'm trying to lose weight." Jericho shouldn't have been THIS tired. He'd gotten enough sleep after the sim run. He'd slowed down on the weight loss a lot, and seemed to be holding steady. I'd talked to the docs and apparently this kinda thing was normal, but Jericho's level of activity was probably causing malnutrition at this point.
"No Joseph, Razor's right," Sandra cut in, invoking the dreaded 'real name,' "This diet was working just fine for you up till we started the heavy sim runs, and you started pounding the weights with Razor and running a lot on your off-time. But it's not enough to keep you going. So eat. Please."
Jericho looked at his plate, rather annoyed for a few minutes before slowly starting to pick at it. Diamondback watched dispassionately for a few moments, then held up five fingers, dropping them one by one on a countdown. I'd seen her pull this kinda shit with Jericho before. It's both creepy and uncanny. Sure enough as her last finger fell away Jericho tore through the food on the plate with a gusto I had rarely seen outside a pack of energizers.
I feel for Jericho, I really do. Nine times out of ten he's just another fat kid in a high school full of pretty people. Never mind he never picked up any powers beyond the devisor/gadgeteer slant, so in most normal fights he has all the terrifying power of the average, normal fifteen-year-old. He always blows it off but it rankles. You can tell. What REALLY burns his ass is the fact that by and large, the devisors and gadgeteers are largely seen as second-rate heroes and villains, or hired flunkies. The kid who's been dealing with various social stigmas all his life gets yet another social stigma in a new place.
And you were all wondering why he's so warped in the head.
"Oh god I feel so much better." Sure enough, Jericho was coming around and alert. I've been hungry enough to feel sick and tired before myself. Stupid thing is, eating causes and immediate recovery. The human, and not-so-human body is creepy like that.
-See? I told you Jackass.-
Diamond immediately threw in with "Your starvation diet privelages are revoked. You will eat like a normal human from now on."
"But how will I maintain my girlish figure?" Yup, he was back to being Jericho again. The bloody smartass.
-Not my problem, mate. You're the bugger who wants to fit into a dress.-
"Gee Razor, you're a pal. So are we on for our torture session tonight?" Jericho hated working out, but he saw it as necessary.
-Of course. Tonight's schedule we do your favorite thing. Two mile run.- I love watching hope die. I really do. It's funny as hell and the expression on Jericho's face was priceless. I wanted a camera.
"He's kidding Jericho. We have a date with this Goober crew, remember? More fun with the sims under Arena 99." Diamond smirked as Jericho breathed a sigh of relief.
I nodded a bit. -Much as I love watching you gasp and puke on the track we have to be ready for whatever these goobers can throw at us. Do we know anything about them?-
"Just that they work for King Fundie." Diamond, being a pagan, has no love for Reverend Englund's Hellfire and Dalmatians sermonizing.
"Great. Well they can't be as bad as the fucking Grunts." Jericho let a small smile. "Oh my if they're Englund's pet geek squad we might be able to play 'em. I'm gonna hit the Devisor Lab and see if I can't whip up something to draw attention. I'm gonna keep the Rafe Armor in reserve until we get tossed at another confirmed power team."
I grinned, which more or less amounts to hanging my jaw open slightly and showing off my meat-tearing choppers. -Confusion and chaos time?-
Jericho shook his head. "Not this time Razor. Let's throw something that looks suitably demonic at them. Once we get their attention let's hit 'em as hard as we can. Screw this pussyfooting around. You two are powerful enough on your own to handle a good number of goons on campus. Let's abuse this. I'll take a page out of Deadeye's book and play shock-rifle sniper for their benefit."
Diamond nodded, and uncoiled herself from the seat. "All right, while you two do that I'm going to see what the Whitman girls know about these goobers."
"Good idea. Razor, go poke around Twain. Get intel from Thuban if you have to but don't promise that shifty bastard anything ambiguous. Make him spell out terms from the get-go."
-Got it. I might be able to weasel something out of his info network. Probably won't be much though.-
"Something is better than nothing. Let's get to it."
I should have known better than to think I could just get to Thuban and get the info without something stupid or crazed happening. It was a green flag outside, and everybody and their freaking brother was out enjoying the freedom to be ourselves with no reservations or stigma. Well, mostly no stigma. Us GSD types still have to put up with prejudicial assholes like anyone else.
Sadly, there are worse things to be at Whateley than heavily GSD. Being blessed with shitty, nearly nonexistent powers is one of those things. I get odd looks, scared stares and generalized contempt. What I don't get is bullied for the most part. This is partly because I'm as nasty as I look in a fight, partly because everyone who's been at Whateley for more than a year knows I'm an ultraviolent rager. Some kids don't even have that, and me and one or two others around campus make it our personal mission in life to make sure they don't get tortured much by the powerhouse students. An exemplar 1 with no other powers is easy meat for most of the rest of campus.
I bring this up because my post-breakfast activity was noting four of the Underdog girls trying to leave the Crystal Hall area and being blocked by Aries, that hackwit jackass speedster who I damned near maimed permanently my freshman year when he decided to pick on the GSD freak.
Sure enough, Sue, Lucille, Rhiannon and Anna were tightly packed and giving the bullying shithead as much space as they could. It wasn't much considering Aries is faster than I am by a fair margin, and he has this nasty habit of slipping just inside your personal space-bubble when he's least wanted. He never would lay a hand on the girls in a place this public, but he wasn't above intimidating and harassing, since he could be on time to class from here with thirty seconds until the bell rang.
In short, he's a fucktard.
Who are the Underdogs? As I mentioned before, they're the kids with suckass powers. Hell, I think Anna's an Avatar with a squirrel spirit or something rediculous like that. They take the phrase "sucks to be you" and give it a whole new spin.
"Come on Anna, I just want to see what Squirrel powers are. C'mon, you can show me." Aries was using his greasy, mocking tone of voice as he made sure he was in the girls' collective space bubble and leering.
"Aries we need to get to class!" Bless Sue's heart. She's the bravest of the lot, even if she's about as powerful as one of Jericho's tracker-cat robots. "Let us go."
"Very well. You may go. She has to stay until I see the mighty squirrel power!" True to Alpha form, he was so intent on the victims of his asshole behavior that he never considered that someone like Me, or Mule, or Jimmy T might decide to punk him. Nobody messes with the Alphas, right? Right. And if you believe that I got some naked pictures of your mom I wanna sell you.
"Back off, Aries, you don't know what you're up against." I saw Sue's quiet smirk and damn near lost it to a chuckle as I crept up right behind Aries and settled in for some fun.
"Oh I'm sure, and exactly what are you going to do to stop me?" Cocky Alpha asstick.
"Not us... Him." Sue let out a beatific smile as I exhaled sharply through my nostrils, hitting Aries' neck with a short blast of hot, stinky, carnivore-breath-smelling air.
Aries stiffened and turned a mite slowly and looked to see me crouched low, in an attack posture, with my spines upright and primed for violence, claws extended seemingly for him.
Poor Aries. He downplays our little encounter last year as just another thing, trying desperately to keep his Alpha cool rep intact, but when I catch him off-guard... Hooo baby! Perhaps shrieking in his face with my jaws wide and showcasing the teeth with bits of breakfast meats still stuck in them was a bit overboard. Nah. Watching him go ghost-white and bolt in a panic was just so worth it.
I think it's a law of the universe that if you make a bully shit himself, no one who matters will be around to see it. Me and the Underdogs got ourselves a good chuckle at Mr. Alpha's expense of course, but there really wasn't anyone around to whom it would matter in any way that Aries would care about.
Check that. While I was laughing I saw Delarose standing about fifty paces out with a slowly shaking head and a look of mild disapproval directed at me. Oh yeah. I wasn't supposed to pull shit like that on campus. A simple twitch of his head in the direction of survival class and a pointed finger later and I got the hint and bugged out. He was letting me off the hook IF I immediately followed his unstated but very clear instructions.
A few days later Sue told me that as soon as I bailed Delarose actually smirked, started chuckling to himself and wandered off whistling to himself obnoxiously. I swear one of these days I will figure out what his angle is, and the arcane methods he uses to determine wether a situation is worth his intervention. Then I'm gonna have me a heyday stomping some new mudholes in Alpha asses without breaking his rules. HEY! I can dream, can't I?
I wasn't able to link up with Jericho until after dinner, and Music class wound up being too frantic to talk once someone decided it would be a brilliant idea to rewire the amplifiers to cause nausea through sonic amplification. I was not happy.
Jericho was sitting across from some exemplar chicka at our usual table and me and Diamondback didn't feel like enduring the freaked stares of one of the pretties. It was almost surreal. She had been there at both lunch and dinner. I didn't get close enough to have a look. Me and Diamond just grabbed a to-go barrel and wandered out to eat our heap of dead thing in private.
Thuban was a bust. The draconian sonofabitch wouldn't lay out terms or even admit to knowing anything useful, and when I finally had had enough of both him and my vodor driving me bugshit with that shards of salt under my scales feeling I finally left. I imagine the Vodor MIGHT have survived the full-strength throw into my room as I passed, but I was neither counting on, nor hoping for it.
Yeah, I know, I'm using a vodor now, but this one doesn't have the same... maddening feeling I get when I used most of them in the past. I really can't describe it, but I can say whenever I used to use them it left me on the verge of a maddened frenzy. Hell, my freshman year I DID go into a frenzy because of it, a couple times.
But when we got together it was a jeering sneer-fest. "New girlfriend Jericho?" Diamondback asked archly. I knew damned well she didn't care beyond the girl taking up our accustomed space.
"Huh? Oh, yeah. Sorry guys. Met a new girl to the school. She's just starting and she didn't gimmie the standard level of love, so I got curious and distracted." Jericho didn't look the least bit apologetic.
-Yeah, sure, distracted... By her boobs I'll bet.- I couldn't resist.
"Hey! That was uncalled for!" Jericho began.
"But it's true." Sandra interjected.
"Although I will admit, they were pretty nice."
Sandra just rolled her eyes as we entered our favorite hiding place under Hawthorne. The large stone room was a junction area for electrical systems around campus, and Jericho had taps on the lines for our guitar amps. Our guitars were, of course elsewhere as we hadn't come to practice. We were here to brainstorm. And if that failed, to make sarcastic remarks until our tongues fell out. Whichever comes first.
"So, what we got for information?" Jericho began the official portion of the little meeting without fanfare or ceremony. Thank god. He can get obnoxious when he works at it.
I replied quicker. -Not a whole lot. Thuban was being his typical, mysterious prick self. He was alluding to the idea that certain parties should become regular attendees over at Faction 3.-
"Like hell." Diamond wasn't fond of said meetings, even though Thuban CLAIMED that things were improving by leaps and bounds.
"I agree, so I take it you didn't commit us to his cult of lack of personality?" Jericho asked smoothly.
-No. I've no interest in the damned GSD pity party. Besides, I have far more fun asking Phoenixfire out every couple of days while she tries to be polite letting me down. It's a little game in my twisted mind.-
Jericho chuckled while Sandra just shook her head. Like hell I'm going to a damned pity party. I figure if people can't take me as I am, I'll just ignore their stupid, shallow asses and truck on. Although harassing Phoenixfire's starting to get old, and she's starting to catch on. Maybe I'll go bug that elfy girl, Fey. I'll have to do it with Stalwart in the area for maximum fun and sputter factor. I don't expect anything to come of it anyway. What girl in her right mind is willing to date a big velociraptor anyway? Oh well, No fear, no regrets.
Shut up you guys, I don't want to spoil that story just yet.
"Alright Sandra, you get anything?"
Sandra grinned, showing off her fangs and nodded. "Oh yeah. You'd be surprised at just how much Silvermoon will chat about her team and that wonky old right-wing fart who's teaching them to become monster-hunters." She looked pointedly at me, "And she still thinks you're a rabid animal that needs to be put down, sorry."
-No worries. The fact that she thinks the same about Bloodwolf takes away some of the sting.-
She nodded, knowing full-well I could care less what the werewolf bint thought of me. "But what we got is a hodgepodge of oddballs, led by Nightbane."
"That Buffy wannabe?" Jericho groaned. "Jeez, what did we do to deserve her lackwit humor?"
-You were born, now shut up.-
Jericho, of course gave me the finger.
"You boys want to hear this or not?"
Both me and Jericho apologized and got attentive quick.
"Now we've got Silvermoon, who's almost a carbon-copy of Bloodwolf, power-wise but with better control. Ecto-Tek, you'd know more about, Jericho."
Jericho thought for a minute. "Yeah, Ecto's an odd duck even for the devisor crowd. Not as odd as Jobe by any stretch but still odd. Most of his gadgets revolve around supernatural detection or combat. He's a specialist type. Always talking about things from Lovecraft novels and shit. He claims that that Sara Waite chickadee who hangs with the Kimbas is one of the Great Old Ones' daughter."
"Sounds about right." Diamond nodded. "Anything we need to worry about?"
"Not so much. I mean he's all coked up for spirit-detection and stuff but we don't have any Avatars in the three of us, since both you and Raz are Exemplars." Jericho thought for a moment. Really all we should have to worry about from him are the usual devisor bag of tricks like robots, laser cannons, for lack of a better term, and force fields. Those are beatable."
Sandra nodded and coiled up her body and went into her weird sitting position on the floor. "Next we have Beacon, who does this funky light-thing that's pretty useless but he claims is like sunlight to a vampire against spirits and demons and stuff, so again, no huge worries there. He is a lowbie Exemplar, so watch out for his right cross."
Me and Jericho nodded.
"Last on our list is Oak, that tree-kid from Twain."
-Oak's a good guy for the most part. A bit sarcastic, but a good guy. Got fused with some kinda demon-weed before he came here, so he's like a cross between a TK brick, an exemplar and a regen, all bundled up into a tight wad of fun. He'll be a tough nut to crak. We might have to use fire, but that could get out of hand really quickly.-
"Let's try to avoid deadly force unless we have to." Diamondback didn't much like fighting, but she was pretty frightening at it.
"Ok, I have something cooked up thyat'll get their attention pretty solid. I just need to go talk to Bardue about running a scenario we choose this time." Jericho mused.
-YEAH! We get to pick one scenario type per month in the sims if we do more than five.-
"We do?" Diamondback asked, surprised.
"Yeah, it's all part of the whole Whateley emphasis on self-defense. We can get some say in our training pogrom, I mean program."
Diamond snickered.
-So we hit 'em hard this time rather than playing "pick off the stragglers?"-
Jericho nodded. "Yup. I got something that'll get their attention and then we slam 'em while they're trying to figure out what the hell is going on."
"All right," Diamond said, "let's get ready for this."
Bardue had cackled evilly when we brought him our scenario request. Since this was the Goobers' first run in the sims as a team we decided to welcome them, Outcast style. So we found ourselves hooded and masked in the center of New york's Central Park in the main arena above the linked sim rooms.
OH! sorry, I forgot you're not familiar with Arena 99. Well, up top you got the big stadium, also known as the Thunderdome to the more crass among the student body. In there, automated construction units build, demolish and rebuild the terrain into anything from a cityscape to a moonscape. There are bleachers, an announcer's area, all very Roman gladiator colliseum-esque. The terrain's fully destructible and there's a force-field there to protect bystanders. The place is goddamned impressive. It's also wired to hell for those mutant deathmatch games that Vegas shows. Yes friends, Whateley's the source of those broadcasts.
Down below the arena you have the interlinked sim rooms. Each room is meant to house one student in an interlinked scenario formed of solid holograms. Basically it cuts you out of the sim if the computers determine you would be fatally wounded or incapacitated. Don't think it's safe. If you fall you can break your neck. The laws of physics are not suspended in the eyes of superscience, and a bullet that hits you in a nonlethal spot will still tear your ass up.
So like I said, we were up in the main arena with these black and gold robes that Diamond borrowed from the magic department that were supposed to be some sort of mystic power focus. I hesitate to say steal since we gave them back in the condition we got them. I prefer Cait's definition. A Field Expedient Acquisition for Nefarious Purposes. And you couldn't get more nefarious than demon-summoning in central park to welcome the newest simulator bitches into the fold.
We heard them arguing before we saw them, and I about gagged. They were arguing about plans of attack and ambushes, and what we were up to. Jericho had a disgusted look on his face when he caught them in earshot after I did.
"Amateurs." His one word about summed up what we were all thinking at the time, since we had to learn the hard way with the other teams about being stealthy. These guys might as well have been carrying road flares and singing Hymnals.
"I got a signal, a spirit-lock." It was that Devisor, Ecto-Tek talking as they started shifting in our direction. Weird, there shouldn't have been any spirits around us, and none of us were Avatars.
"Showtime." Sandra breathed as Jericho handed her the trigger on his little toy and me and him took our positions, bobbing up and down like the good little cultists we were. Sandra began a long intonation in her sexy alto and began the so-called ritual that was the Goobers' mission to disrupt.
We saw them while Sandra was facing away from them, her tail trailing a ways behind, and her skull-mask not visible to any of us. Me and Jericho, however, had a clear view as the lot of them crept slowly out of the treeline along a bike path, coming towards the lake we had chosen for our nefarious purposes. I will admit, some days I love being the bad guys.
Sara Waite was bored out of her mind when she walked into the Arena area. Between getting her work finished for class and a severe lack of desire to socially interact with anyone today she found herself at loggerheads. Hippolyta was busy with her martial arts practice, Gypsy was doing something with the other Fortune-tellers of Whateley, and she wasn't going to be visiting Merry in her hidey-hole for another two hours once she got the all-clear from Fey that she wasn't being watched to follow her off-campus.
She was also troubled by other events, like Lenston, and Merry's instability and fear of snakes that she couldn't even pin down. That girl was going to take some adjusting. On top of that was the sneaking feeling that something big was about to go down, and the fact that she couldn't pin the feeling down to a source was aggravating to say the least.
She picked the arena on a whim, and wandered in, noting the various students there doing homework, or watching the occasional bout down below the force field. Bloodwolf, Maggot and Killstench were leaning over the edge of the arena practically drooling at the potential for bloodshed. Idly, and on a whim she leaned over and looked down.
Lo and behold some of her least-favorite people on Whateley campus were readying to mount an attack on the three chanting figures by the lake, standing in a crudely drawn summoning circle. The robed figures seemed oblivious to their danger as Ecto-Tek levelled his blaster and fired while the others charged forward in something resembling a formation pattern. The liquid-green energy discharge exploded on an unseen barrier between the two groups, and the ground around the oncoming attackers suddenly boiled and erupted as small, skittering mechanical monstrosities erupted from the earth around the Goobers.
The little monsters were spiderlike or centipede-like and carried a strange mix of blades and energy attacks. The most disturbing part of the little chromed monstrosities were the faces draped over their bodies like obscene clothing, all wearing makeup. It was like they'd ripped off all the faces of the people in clown makeup in a hundred miles and were wearing them for a party. The mayhem, panic and confusion was beautiful, with the Goobers' attack choking and stalling as the murderous little things shot, stabbed and chewed on anything that moved.
The ritual continued unabated, and while there was a trickle of power from the figure in the center of the circle, female by the voice, with a long snakelike tail where her legs should be. It wasn't enough for what the ritual LOOKED like, but the Goobers were going nuts trying to get at it. It was almost formulaic. By the time the Goobers subdued or destroyed the little bug-monsters the ritual ended, and Sara saw a pinprick of energy as the ritual leader released the power she had been building slowly over a minute. The field became a rampant scene as the shadows seemed to animate and come alive, caressing the goobers and making distorted images in the tree line.
The Circle erupted and from the water a giant mass of whitish-yellow knotted tendrils erupted as a giant mass of what looked like oversized spaghetti noodles dripping marinara emerged from the water. A pair of gigantic meatballs were firmly ensconced in the noodle-monstrosity's "face" and the two eyes on noodle-like stalks were just icing on the cake. Sara started giggling as she recognized the Flying Spaghetti Monster of Internet fame, as big as a house and writhing and whipping about like some mad thing. The Goobers looked confused for a moment and went wide-eyed.
It was too tempting, and too easy. Sara took in a great lungful of air and shrieked out excitedly, carefully watching the goobers' confusion turn to horror as they stared up at her.
"DADDY!"
I'm not sure what triggered the giggling and laughter first, the demon-girl Sara screaming DADDY!, or her quiet and smug "oops, my mistake" that I'm pretty sure only I heard, the growing look of horror on the Goobers' faces when the implications began to sink in, or Diamondback's immediate toss of a salute/wave to Sara while yelling "Thanks for the help!" without missing a beat. Whatever it was, while the holographic spaghetti-thing floated towards the Goobers I couldn't stop laughing like a maniac, sounding like a wounded seal caught in a blender.
While I dropped to all fours, laughing, Jericho was doing a very good impression of a villain with his laugh, although it was ruined by the absolute mirth in his voice. Diamondback just started giggling like she'd lost her damned mind, holding her stomach and letting the laughs flow. The humor must flow. The humor is the soul. The soul is the humor.
It could have cost us a lot in this battle were it not for the fact that the Holographic monster was more or less invulnerable, being composed of solidified light bands trapped in a forcefield. I dunno how it works and Jericho's explanations always give me a headache.
The Goobers found their resolve and attacked with gusto while we rolled about like a buncha thunderstruck idiots. Ecto-Tek was the first on the ball as he unloaded the green-energy-blasting ray gun in his hands into the Flying Spaghetti Monster, which triggered a roar of outrage and an immediate response as the hologram wrapped a tentacle around Oak and pitched him across the park. Give the verdant bastard some credit, because he got right back up and charged, howling like a lunatic with rage or something.
Nightbane was up and attacking in a flash, whipping a katana with golden-colored etchings at the holographic horror, slicing away a tentacle that wrapped around her waist and eliciting a disgusted shriek. The tentacle bubbled and dissolved as it hit the ground. "Kalamari anyone?" I can personally do without her weak-ass Buffy-wannabe humor, and apparently so could me compadres.
That broke the giggling mood as Silvermoon shifted her body to the hulking, silver-furred wolf-woman with claws, fangs and mucho ferocity and began bouncing around like an enraged ping-pong-ball with motive and intent, slashing at the tentacles that threatened to hurt her friends. Beacon began blazing away with his oddball beams of light that seared through the body of the hologram and closed just as fast. Jericho had programmed his scientific minion well.
Beacon was the first "casualty" as the noodle-tentacles wrapped around him and pulled him up to be absorbed into the writhing mass of noodles and marinara. the whole "body" of the beast writhed and wriggled like it was digesting while Beacon let out panicked screams from inside.
"BEACON!" Nightbane yelled and her teammates all added oaths and curses to the mix. "All right you tentacled thing! let Beacon go!"
Right about then the sound of a belch and a bubbly voice going "Yum!" sounded out from our technological terror.
Oak charged and leapt at the Flying Spaghetti Monster from the side, his momentum knocking it from the sky as more tendrils erupted from the noodle mass to ensnare all of the Goobers, who thought they were fighting for their lives against a real demon.
"Think now's a good time to do our thing?" Sandra asked lightly from within her hooded robe.
Jericho smiled. "Sandra you take Oak. I got Ecto-geek. Razor, keep Nightbane and Silvermoon occupied till me and Sandra get our thing done. On me."
I heard Ecto-Tek mutter "it's not real" while staring at one of his instruments. He raised his voice to say "Hey GUYS! It's not..." Whatever he was going to say got cut off when we threw the robes off and Jericho fired his shock-rifle at the poor devisor geek. The untested weapon worked like a charm, throwing him on his ass and scattering his myriad bits of gear around like confetti. Sadly it didn't knock the little geek out as it had hit a personal forcefield.
In any case we didn't give him the chance to warn anyone as Sandra slithered over to Oak and gave him a tail-slap that sent him reeling. Now you'd think a Brick's a brick, but Exemplars, TK's and whatever Oak is are odd, varied and hardly ever operate as straightforward power-wise as most folks think. Oak got up, shook off the dazed look and dove straight at Diamond, only to run afoul of her stupid-fast reflexes as she grabbed him and sent him spinning into the dirt, digging a furrough five feet long. Then Jericho and Ecto-Tek started exchanging fire, blasts hitting and caroming off both their personal forcefields, and things got confused right quick.
I took the opportunity to charge Silvermoon full-tilt and drive her into the rapidly recovering Spaghetti-monster's writhing noodle body. I bounced off her, kicking her into the thing and charged Nightbane, driving her into the ground and causing her to lose her grip on her sword. While Silvermoon was trying to fend off the emerging noodles to keep from becoming engulfed, I rolled with Nightbane on the ground, each of us trying to get a grip on the other when her hand grabbed my snout.
I'd like to speak of my grand personal bravery in the defeat of my goody-good foe, but when she touched me skin-to scale it hurt! The pain lanced through my body and started my muscles convulsing so hard that I kicked her away and bolted on all fours away from them as fast as I could go. When I recovered my senses from instinct I had a scant moment to reflect that whatever she'd done had fucking HURT!
Silvermoon extricated herself and the two goobers darted out of reach, squaring off against me. Oops, they were catching on to the more or less harmless nature of our noodly god-demon-thing. I darted back in and grabbed the sword, pitching it into the lake as they charged at me. One less implement of dismemberment for their side as I proceeded to bounce between the two, and running circles around them. I put my claws to good use tearing out Silver's hamstrings, but they knitted back together almost as fast. Almost as fast as mine were prone to doing in fact, which put her ahead of Bloodwolf on the regen tree by a slight margin.
Change of plan. I dove on Nightbane, slamming the blonde to the ground and pummeling her for all I was worth, pain or no. And it WAS painful to say the least. Every time I hit her that searing agony lanced up my arms and legs, threatenting to take me away to oh-shit-Razor's-gone-berzerko-again-land. Not right here, not with my opponents being living, breathing humans even if they were the competition and the fundie apprentices.
Unfortunately it wasn't meant to be as Silvermoon hit me like a freight train, claws tearing into my scaly ass like jagged razorblades and tearing strips from my hide. I lost it. I saw red, tasted blood and felt nothing, punctuated by flashes of consciousness and the knowledge that I was savaging Silvermoon for all I was worth before her claws or her jaws sent me back into rage again.
The last time I came conscious it was to the feel of a Mack truck hitting me in the side and pitching me like a rag doll across the lawn area. As I shook myself awake I saw Jericho aiming his shock-rifle at ME. I was about to shriek at him when I saw Silvermoon lying flat-out on the grass, gasping shallowly, while her wounds knit painfully slowly to mine eyes, even though her healing rate far exceeded a human's. Even creepier was I didn't even feel like I had a bruise, even though the armor plating of my costume had been rent and bent badly and I was dripping blood.
Nightbane was on her butt a few yards away, wincing and holding her upper chest where there were three horizontal slash marks right below her neck that were a shoe-in for my toe-claws. Oak was on the ground, out cold, his wooden carapace cracked and healing visibly, evidence of Diamondback's handiwork in a close-up. She was pulling Beacon out of the rapidly fading mass of our noodle monster, while Ecto-Tek was face-down on the ground and out cold.
We'd won.
Bardue was both amused and annoyed when he talked to us while the Goobers got packed away to the infirmary. None of them had been seriously wounded, but they were shaken up quite a bit. Nightbane hadn't been actually torn up that badly to my knowledge, and Silvermoon wasn't in grand shape despite her healing ability and her frequent ass-kicking sessions with Bloodwolf that somehow never made the school blotter. Oak would recover easy. He was just winded and bruised after Diamond had crushed the air out of him in her coils. Nightbane gave the lot of us some truly nasty looks while they were being patched up. I guess, rather like us in our first sim run, they were expecting to waltz in and clean house. Welcome to reality. I have frequent flyer miles here.
"Jericho are you trying to make a mockery of my sim runs?" Bardue asked while we cleaned up our stuff.
"I've decided that my strength is psychological warfare, sir." Jericho smirked without missing a beat.
"Which aspect, trying to kill the staff by making us laugh or by making our brains implode from looking at your clothing choices?"
"Yes sir."
Bardue shook his head. "All right smartass. I just came down to say good work. I was surprised by how you handled that even if the Flying Spaghetti Monster schtick was a bit much. I also came down to tell you that your next sim run is tomorrow morning, and your opponents will be chosen right before you arrive from the groups in the mash."
"In the morning?" Jericho's jaw dropped. "What time?"
"Four AM."
All three of us stood there with our jaws hanging open in disbelief for a few minutes even after Bardue left. Then the swearing began.
Wednesday, November 29th
I don't even want to go into the morning run in the arena. It was a disaster and a half. We got teamed off against most of the capes at the last minute, which left us painfully outnumbered and outgunned, per usual. The thing that sticks in my craw is the fact that we were tired and off our game enough that the capes managed to sweep us up without taking a single casualty. Fortunately the Capes weren't feeling mean so we found ourselves hogtied and restrained rather than beaten mercilessly.
In any case I found myself at breakfast staring at Jericho over my plate of meats. I was watching a certain metallic-haired brunette who was seething and sparking like some kinda energy generator from hell as she wandered over to load up a tray of food.
"Twenty bucks says beyond being a bit startled she doesn't bat an eye." Jericho smirked as the girl started walking away from the food line and in our direction.
-You're on.-
I watched the girl and noticed a few oddities that weren't connected to her black, seemingly chromed hair or her steely, runed eyes. First was the thought that no way was this girl a tenager. She had to be fully developed, and adult. I mean exemplars are all hotties for the most part, but they don't have that "finished growing" look to them yet. The second was the fact that this girl's walk was all wrong, like she was primed for a fight at any moment, and not even Hippy could have matched that particular bit of posture. The last was that before she saw me, she was scanning the crowd in that way you see trained cops and soldiers looking for threats. They don't realize they're doing it, they just DO it. All in all this one was an odd package from the get-go even before we met.
She stopped and looked startled when she laid eyes on me sitting across from Jericho. No surprises there. Most people have to do a double-take when they see me for the first time. What surprised me was she shook it off and continued moving forward like she had a purpose in life, with that blitzed out energy field snapping along her body and clothing like something living.
What really surprising when she put her tray on the table and unceremoniously plopped into the seat next to me. Jericho was wearing his patented shit-eating grin, and she looked at us both. I realized that Jericho might possibly, just MAYBE have found a keeper.
The girl looked confused for a moment. "What?" She asked.
Jericho's grin got wider. "Pay up Razor."
"Oh great, I'm now the subject of a betting pool." She looked a bit rueful. "Razor huh?"
I nodded, mildly amused.
"Yeah. Caitlin, this is Razorback, one of my friends I was talking about before..."
Whateley Academy, September 2007
-And that was when I met this bloody amazon here, which led to even more chaos than usual.-
"Oh admit it, you'd be bored without me around." Caitlin smirked as the vodor spit out Razorback's story ending.
-True. I'd have no one to stare at except the usual exemplar ornamentation. Speaking of which I haven't ogled Fey since school ended last year.-
Diamondback shook her head. "Boys. They never grow up."
"Nope, we're against this whole growing up thing." Jericho put in.
The new froshes had relaxed a lot since the Outcasts started the story round robin, and were beginning to look a bit tired and hungry from the long day of introductions to the school. The spiderlike girl was looking at the Outcasts with a mix of nervousness and relief, the latter of which seemed to be echoed by the other four.
-Come on Freshlings. Let's go get you some chow and get you lot settled in. Tomorrow's gonna be another busy one.- Razor's vodor and sign language spurred the kids to hop up and start moving as the big lizard, who had grown a few inches in height and spine length, began heading towards Crystal Hall.
When the newbies had gone, Jericho looked over at Caitlin. "God I hope this helps. Those kids need a bit of support. Not a one of them's prepared for this kinda shit."
Diamond nodded. "I am glad that we're allowed to help, but damn! Four TG's in one year? I thought there was only supposed to be like one for every hundred mutants or so from the books."
"Yeah. I was thinking the same thing," Caitlin said quietly. "It should be only about four-to-seven kids in that boat on-campus in any given year, but lately..."
"You thinking something's going on, Cait?" Jericho asked.
"I'm actualy starting to think some kids are being tampered with. There's way too many if you only include the ones we know about, and add these five..."
"And you start seeing a pattern." Diamondback started her thinking game, playing over scenarios. "Are we thinking genetics, magic or other for tampering?"
"Dunno yet," Caitlin mused, "but it's starting to look like something unnatural is going on here."
"Maybe I should see what I can do about getting some DNA scans done to check for alterations." Jericho stood up as he spoke.
Diamondback looked at Caitlin seriously. "Even if we find out that there IS tampering, we haven't asked the question that needs to be asked."
Caitlin nodded. "Why the hell would someone set up kids to go through that, and are any of us a part of it without knowing it?"
It was at best, a coldly sobering thought.
"Look Erik, you're the best range hand I got, and a damned good Marine. You know that, otherwise I'd have never offered you the job. But I don't want to lose any more people than I already have. I like you a lot, and the rest of the Crisis Team, and the monkeys down in security are getting worried. So. Tomorrow, you're going to take the day off, and then you are going to go see the doc on Thursday. Full battery of tests, so try not to kill the docs."
Joe Gunnarson
By Joe Gunnarson
In 24 hours they'll be
laying flowers
on my life, it's over tonight
I'm not messing no I
need your blessing
and your promise to live free
please do it for me -Jem, '24'
Whateley Range Two, Tuesday, November 14th
Erik Mahren scanned the range quietly, checking targets, and safety measures silently. Gunny Bardue was working with the rest of the Crisis Simulation team over at range five, while he got to corral the kids on the live fire rifle and pistol range. He took in a deep breath and let it out, looking at the clock. Five minutes until the students of Whately Academy's final period began trickling in from various parts of the campus. He took another deep breath and looked over at the most important sign in the range, the one that laid out the four most important rules of weapon safety. As far as Erik was concerned, these four rules were the voice of God himself and the students, by this time knew he had absolutely zero tolerance for violating any of them.
1. Treat every weapon as if it were loaded.
2. Never point a weapon at anything you do not intend to shoot.
3. Keep your finger straight and off the trigger until you are ready to fire.
4. Keep the weapon on safe until you intend to fire.
Too many accidents had occurred because someone played fast and loose with those four rules the world over, resulting in injury, property damage, and death. All by accident. Erik sighed to himself as he looked at the fifth rule, added by himself with Gunny Bardue's approval.
5. All modified, customized, mystical, or prototype weapons are to be examined by Cpl. Erik Mahren before use on any range.
The last rule came because of not a few incidents where various devisers and gadgeteers around Whateley brought in some highly dangerous and experimental gear onto the range. Erik had seen one poor girl almost flash-fried because she underestimated the blast radius of bizarre, almost baroque-looking piece of hardware that fired a compressed plasma bolt in an unstable magnetic field that she had somehow managed to cobble together. The result, needless to say, had been impressive. Even so, Erik developed a reputation as a control-freak safety Nazi that none of the more flamboyant children wanted to deal with, much less endure his rather severe ass-chewing when they put themselves or other students in danger.
The first two students walked in, and Erik sighed to himself. It was Marie Schultz and Mandi Carter AKA Flashbang and Tinkertrain, or as Erik thought of them, "most likely to blow up the school before graduation." Every time he saw her Erik wondered if Mandi had ever heard Ozzy's song, or what the Ozzman would think of her moniker. But it had been approved so he kept his trap shut. Both held some pretty... interesting gear in their hands.
"Hiya Teach!" Marie practically radiated good cheer, even when he down checked her toys as inappropriate for all but the most controlled range fire situations.
"Hello Ladies" Erik eyed the gear suspiciously. He hadn't seen either of these two contraptions before. "What have you brought for me today?"
"Well..." Began Mandi, "We haven't exactly come up with names. We figured we might as well see if they work properly first before we come up with something like that.
"Good Call. Pass that thing over and lemme have a look at it." The heavy rifle-seeming contraption was very space-age looking, and had a cable running to a backpack that made him think of the ghostbuster proton packs. That was never a good sign.
Erik couldn't for the life of him, figure out how the hell he was always able to pick up a piece of gear and determine it's proper use within a minute or two, no matter WHO built it, but he could. When people commented, he just shrugged and chalked it up to probably having a really low-key mutant talent for Weapons and equipment. And as he pored over Mandi's monstrosity he checked the safety interlocks, and the power feeds, and a slow picture of what this futuristic popgun might do began forming in his head. He wasn't liking what he was seeing.
"I need to test-fire this thing Mandi, if you don't mind."
The girl looked slightly dejected, naturally wanting to be the first one to rip off a few blasts with her invention, but she caught the tone of worry in his voice and nodded as Erik strapped on the pack, stepped up to the range and powered it up. A powerful whine burst from the backpack and settled to a dull hum, again reminding him of the ghostbusters. Definitely not a good sign. He thumbed the safety and aimed at one of the targets downrange in a cluster.
The blast from the rifle could only be described as a cross between a lightning bolt and a particle beam, bright bluish-white and hot as hell. It lanced into the target center mass and then lanced out, hitting another, and another, until it had picked out every target within fifty meters in an insane, random, zig-zagging non-pattern as all eight targets simultaneously exploded. Not good. Two more shots showed the same thing. The blasts were like a bolt of chain lightning jumping along helter-skelter ripping through targets completely at random. It seemed that the only requirement was that the target only had to be within a few meters for the jump, which made him almost lose it when the beam finally hit a target ten meters in front of him and blew it's stack. A few closer and he'd be Crispy-fried grunt all over the walls.
Mandi was, of course, elated. "That was so cool!"
Miraculously, it was Marie who said it before Erik could. "Mandi, your gun almost killed Mr. Mahren"
Comprehension dawned as Mandi realized what might have happened had a target been a few feet closer, and HER wearing her shiny new bang-bang. "Oh my god. I'm so sorry!"
Erik let out a long breath and turned off the blaster and thumbed the thing back on safe. He set the apparatus on a table and went over to fill out a piece of paper and handed it to Mandi. "That Power Lance of yours is restricted use. Range Four only until you get the chaining effect under control. I recommend you reduce the beam's capacity for target jumping to a maximum of five. Go find Gunny Bardue and show this to him. "Do NOT ever fire that thing at a target any less than fifty meters downrange, or within fifty meters of anything you don't want barbecued, comprende?"
Marci nodded, and collected the paper and the her weapon and scampered off, looking absolutely mortified. Erik let her go, closed his eyes and took a VERY deep breath, and turned to Marie. "OK lemme see it."
Marie passed over the silvered rifle and Erik gave it a once over, carefully noting everything before passing it back.
"All right young lady, rip a few off." Erik settled back to watch.
"Really? SWEET!"
The girl bounded off to Land three and began firing the rifle. It released a distortion in the air that caused the line of fire to ripple a bit before slamming into a target and exploding in a shockwave. Erik looked at the monitors and gauged the force at enough to Knock out a grown man, possibly with broken bones. Then the last shot she took showed enough force to throw an armored personnel carrier on it's side.
Erik noted that the other students were trickling in one by one, each quietly going through the routine of checking, loading and firing at the targets. Erik wandered back and forth, helping students correct posture, giving tips and generally trying to help them improve their aim. The class went so smooth he almost was surprised when it was over. As the students filed out he called out.
"Hey Flashbang! get over here. Lemme see that rifle."
"Uhhh, OK?" Marie walked over and handed it over, and almost cried when Erik surreptitiously removed the power cell and the magnetic accelerator from it and handed it back.
"You can have these back once you install a safety selector on the thing. It's nonlethal. I like that. But it needs to be able to not be fired by accident. Capiche?"
"Oh. Okay. I thought I was in trouble. Yeah I'll get that done." Marie darted off, and Erik slumped into a chair.
He rubbed his temples against the stress headache that was forming. It was always the same. The panic and stress never kicked in until AFTER the crisis was over and he was alone. Memories of a running firefight through the campus trying to get to the students on Halloween raced through him. Memories of more than a few near-misses on the range, or seeing kids get severely injured in fights on campus raged through him.
"Here, take these" He felt something pressed into his hands and took the aspirin and water gratefully.
He looked up to see Gunny Bardue standing over him. "You OK kid?"
"Yeah Boss. Just had another near-miss today with an overenthusiastic Gadgeteer."
"I heard. She was almost in tears when she told me what happened. Damn kids always wanna make guns that make things explode loud and pretty, but never really think about what will happen if they actually get used on someone."
"You're in a weird mood, Gunny."
"So are you for the last few days, Mahren. You been a bit off ever since Halloween. I been wondering when you were going to talk to someone."
Erik sat up, and looked at the glass in his hand, half-empty. "I know it ain't our fault, but I can't shake the feeling that we let the kids down Halloween night. If that crazy Kimba crew and the other kids hadn't been so on the ball we'd have had a fucking tragedy instead of just a nightmare."
"Don't beat yourself up too hard Erik. You and Cat kept enough of those fuckers tied up so that the students and the rest of the staff could drive them back."
"We ever gonna tell the kids why Cat's not gonna be back on the range? They have a right to know, and more than a few of them have some things figured out. I think that Jade kid from Poe's figured out that she died. They have a right to know what she did for them."
Bardue pulled up another chair and sat down. "Yeah, we will. Carson's already given the go-ahead for a memorial service, and we were going to ask you if you'd speak for her. We all know you two were close. Now if we can get Hartass to fucking work the schedule we can get going, but she's being her usual, control-freak bitch self again."
"Maybe I should have a talk with our dearly beloved computer genius..." Erik almost snarled.
"No. Dammit Erik you stay well away from that woman. After the last incident you're already in hot water. The ONLY reason Carson didn't fire you was because you didn't do anything stupid, and she provoked the hell out of you. As much as I'd love to turn you loose on her, no. Cat deserves a better Eulogy than 'she died defending the students and her best friend got fired because of her."
"Fine. I'll avoid her, per usual. But I don't have to like it."
Bardue chuckled mildly. "No you don't, but on another note, I want you to go get tested by the docs. You have way too much talent with oddball gear to simply be chalked up to "natural talent." And no damned arguing. You are good, but this was one near miss too many for you. We need to find out if you are a mutant like you are so fond of joking about, and if so, what your limits are."
Erik sat silently, trying to chew on that last bit.
"Look Erik, you're the best range hand I got, and a damned good Marine. You know that, otherwise I'd have never offered you the job. But I don't want to lose any more people than I already have. I like you a lot, and the rest of the Crisis Team, and the monkeys down in security are getting worried. So. Tomorrow, you're going to take the day off, and then you are going to go see the doc on Thursday. Full battery of tests, so try not to kill the docs."
Erik nodded once. "I'll right, fine, boss, you win. But I draw the line at spandex and cheesy one-liners."
"I expect nothing less. Now go home." Bardue chuckled as the younger man walked out.
Thursday Morning, November 16th
Erik woke up in his apartment with a ripper of a headache, on his couch, with a too-loud television blaring somewhere at the edge of his consciousness. As he pushed himself up groggily he looked at the clock. 5:37 AM. He groggily pulled himself up and looked around. The apartment looked like a tornado had torn through it, weeks of clutter and random crap, never mind the case worth of beer cans from last night stacked in odd formations on the coffee table. He really needed to stop this drinking alone thing, but ever since Cat...
He cut off that line of thought and stumbled into the bathroom and looked at his dishevelled face in the mirror. He looked like a high school band had done a full concert while on the march, using him for the road. Couldn't go to work looking like a drunk bum with a hangover, never mind the example it would set for the students. A fast shower followed by breakfast were in order.
When he came out of the bathroom in pure bachelor style, in his boxers, he wandered over to the kitchen, started the coffee machine and pulled two pop tarts and a couple burritos, tossing the lot into the microwave for two minutes. Then he reached over, picked up his ever-present gallon jug of water and popped two aspirin. People were always saying one bullshit thing or another about how to cure a hangover. In his experience, getting water in the system was the only real way to do it. The doctors would have agreed, even if they wouldn't have approved.
Clothes came on and he looked himself over. He wasn't going in to collect a paycheck, just to get checked so his standard-issue military fatigues were left in the closet and he opted for faded jeans, hiking boots and a black T-shirt that read "God's busy, Can I help you?" It had a leering red devil face in the middle. A leather jacket later and he looked at himself in the mirror again. Short, military cut blonde hair, both blue eyes thankfully intact, and a non-drunk and disorderly expression. Great. He looked human again.
He wandered over, picked his breakfast out of the microwave and poured himself a cup of coffee in a hastily cleaned mug and sat down on the couch to eat. The TV was still on, and he switched to CNN, watching for anything interesting, or at least not depressing in the newscast. No such luck. Another cup of coffee and a belly full of wholesome, week-old, reheated burrito and he was out the door, turning off the tube and wandering to his truck.
The sight of the old beater pickup made him wonder exactly why he lived in a fairly crappy apartment by himself with a banged up twelve-year-old truck. He didn't need a lot. Whateley paid very well for a teaching job, but most of it just kept piling up in his bank account. Food, gas and a computer with his GEO account seemed more or less all he needed to keep going contentedly. And beer of late.
He needed to stop drinking. Gunny Bardue would light his ass up like a Christmas tree if he found out just how much Erik was on the sauce since Halloween night. But the memories hurt. The panic as he'd realized that the school was under attack, the running fire fight trying to get to Hawthorne, Cat charging the... No, best not to think about it or else he'd be tempted to go and just drown his sorrows away in more beer. The last thing he needed was to become a complete alcoholic. He'd be useless to everyone at that point.
The drive to Whately always took a half hour or so, and as always, was uneventful. Only a few students were up and about this early before classes started, although the cafeteria rush would begin soon. He did a walk around the campus, watching for signs of unusual activity as had become his habit since Halloween, nodding to the teachers and students who actually were up and moving this early in the morning. He passed three girls having a quiet moment, recognizing that they were performing Tai Chi, and were remarkably adept and graceful for children in their formative years. His miserable mood didn't stop him from noticing the red haired girl, big time.
Fey. Yeah the magic kid from poe, one of the students who had been in that debacle at the ball and had done very well in staying alive. That would make the Chinese girl with the sword Chou, another of the oft-maligned and so far very effective Team Kimba. The third girl was one he'd seen, but didn't know by name. Or by file that was mandatory reading due to a severe proclivity for getting deep into the biggest trouble thus far this year. He left the girls to their exercise and walked towards the Doc's office. He'd already hit the better part of campus.
He noted the various groups as they began trickling out towards the cafeteria, the Wild Pack, the Masterminds, and, of course, the Alphas. Now THERE was a batch of kids who set his teeth on edge. They acted the worst stereotypes of rich little snots. They had a air of entitlement about them, as if they were owed something by all the lesser worms of the world. For someone with his upbringing and background, it always set his teeth on edge to watch them. It didn't help that they were some of his worst problems in the crisis unit and on the various ranges, paying bare lip service to safety rules and looking at him with sneering contempt. They were well aware that should they so desire it they could turn him into a messy stain on the concrete at range two, or worse. He was content to allow them to continue believing this. No point in borrowing trouble.
He stopped when he saw the Ultraviolents. Now that was a pack that were probably the only exception to Erik's personal rules about protecting children. He could smell it, feel it, see it with every twitch of body language. They were killers. He knew that as soon as they left Whateley there would be a great wailing and gnashing of teeth among the populace until they were safely locked up or killed. And he knew, sooner or later he'd be on the receiving end of their fury. He always got that bad feeling whenever he saw them. He just hoped he could hold out long enough to get help when it happened.
Doctor bellows was waiting for him as soon as he entered the building. The Doc had a resigned expression on his face as he saw the large range technician walk up to him, but he put on a cheerful face.
"Hello Mr. Mahren. I know that you don't like being in hospital areas so I'll do my best to make this as fast an painless as possible for you."
"Thanks Doc, sorry I'm such a lousy patient. But eh. What can we do? So about these tests. I think I know what the problem is. I seem to be developing a deeper voice and have started to notice girls." Erik kept a straight face until the good doctor started snickering.
"And here I was thinking you weren't going to take this whole thing seriously."
Erik grinned. "C'mon Doc, what's the fun of being a lab rat if I don't get to run my own experiments on the staff? Wouldn't want them to think I LIKED them or something ya know. Reputation and all that."
"Oh yes, I do understand. This way please."
They passed the main medical area and went into a room. A nurse came in, drew blood and got his blood pressure, the whole nine yards. For a minute he thought he was back in the marines, getting all the yearly shots and blood tests, feeling like a pincushion. The Dr. Bellows walked back in. Erik simply turned his head to the right and coughed.
"Well, that takes care of the physical. let's get to the testing."
"Very funny Erik. Full physical. Let's get to it."
"Dammit why is it only the doctors who wanna feel me up?"
"Must be your charming personality."
The morning went fast, and the tests popped up pretty much as Erik expected them to. Boring, annoying and more or less a pain in the ass. He got through them, then the Xavier test, the endurance tests, the strength tests, the reflex tests, and all the others. The psychic test was a hoot. the Doc kept trying to get him to tell him what was on the face of a card via telepathy. That went nowhere, so Erik tried to read the doc's mind. Nothing doing so he made it up as he went along. Bellows was simultaneously amused and mortified by some of his more bawdy comments.
"You don't talk to the children like that do you?"
"What doc, and let 'em come out as screwy as me? No. Although I do play Barbara Streisand's greatest hits at full volume on the radio while they try to concentrate. You wouldn't believe how much they whine some days."
Bellows smirked. "How could you do such a thing to their impressionable young minds?"
"Easy. I have earplugs and an iPod."
"Ahhh, a closet sadist I see. So tell me. What is on this card?"
"Star."
"And the testing ends and you are Zero for fifty."
"There goes my future as a phone psychic."
The most interesting part of the training was when Erik was sat down with a LOT of equipment, both assembled and disassembled. Dr. Bellows asked him to assemble, disassemble, and operate as many of the devices as he possibly could. Each device turned out to be anything from a handgun to a heavy machine gun in weaponry from around the world. There were bits of electronics, body armor, and other odds and ends, as well as a computer of a design that he'd never seen before. The computer was by far the most difficult, but he got it assembled and operating in about ten minutes after examining the parts for a minute and a half on the first try. He then went through the system and checked the software, the files and got it connected to the Whateley net, which was a bitch because he had to sift through a tub of odd wires for a few minutes to find one that looked right. Most of the mundane weapons and equipment he had completely figured out inside of seconds.
The odd bits were a talisman, a dagger and a piece of rune worked Iron. After a minute examining each he made a gesture or spoke a few words that sounded RIGHT after correctly identifying each one's function to activate them. The assistant for this test seemed rather astonished and brought out a gnarled, blackened staff inlaid with eldritch runes Erik held it for a minute, and fought down the rising feeling of horror before he filled a sink with water, spoke some words that made no sense even to him, then dipped the staff in the water at both ends and struck it against the floor. the staff shattered, disintegrating as it exploded all the way up the haft in a startling display of eldritch green fire. The lab assistant ran screaming. He wasn't aware of any of it. Just the fact that his world was reeling and spinning and it took all of his conscious effort to stay upright.
The response was almost immediate. Two teachers, and several students, including Sir Westmount, Ophelia, Fey, and that Goth girl, Sara looking like the proverbial angel and demon twins, as well as Chou burst into the area, all of them practically radiating energy and looking ready for a fight of epic proportions.
Sara simply looked at Erik and pointed. "Him."
Erik, slightly dazed felt himself stiffen and rise into the air, unable to move as the elderly man shouted something and Fey added to the mix. He was still dazed, and that shriek of psychic energy had hit him like a thunderclap. He shook his head and suddenly crashed to the ground, freed from his bonds only to find himself pinned by a very angry looking Chinese girl with that jade-bladed sword pressed to his neck. He did the most sane thing someone in that position with a migraine and severe disorientation would do. He stayed still.
"How the hell did the holding spells break?"
"I don't..."
"...ing on here?"
The voices were jumbled, incoherent and loud. The more people yammered and talked the more queasy he got.
Suddenly the blade was gone and he found himself roughly hauled to his feet by Sir Westmount, who seemed to be screaming in his face, but he couldn't understand any of it. The voice was just noise and thunder, and it only exacerbated the growing nausea growing in the pit of his stomach. He did the only natural thing at that point. He puked on the man's fancy tweed jacket.
Then security piled through the door, their boots making loud claps as they hit the tiles. The argument began, but by that point, but Erik was too far gone to make out any of it as his consciousness slipped away and he hit the floor.
Four hours later, after he woke up, Erik sat in Dr. Bellows' office and the man set down a folder.
"Well do you want the bad news or the really bad news first?"
"Bad news, of course, I need fuel for my cynical side."
"The bad news is that you won't be giving blood at the local red cross any time soon. You have high concentrations of Iron, cobalt and tungsten, believe it or not, in your veins. Enough to be dangerous to a normal person."
"Sweet I was right, and I can mine in my own ass for precious metals now."
"Indeed." The doc smirked. "The worse news is there is some hubbub in administration over what to do with you. You are currently going to be suspended from your teaching duties until we figure out exactly what happened."
"Spit it out Doc, you got that nervous "I shouldn't tell him something" look in your eye."
"That staff. What was it?"
"What, you don't know?" Erik looked skeptical.
"No, We didn't know what that runed hunk of iron was either until you broke open it's secrets. The staff was brought in to see if you could puzzle it out as well."
"Oh. I dunno what those things are called, but lemme go down the list. The talisman is a simple charm that lights up if you activate it. I got the feeling that it was a testing tool, nothing more. The knife was a nice little number that seems to be able to slice through damned near anything except skin. Wonderful letter opener. The runes in the iron are a part of something else. What I don't know. I'd need the pieces to figure it out. But it makes some wicked electrical arcing effect when ya trigger it"
Dr. Bellows nodded and continued taking notes. "And the staff? People have been poring over that item for years, and nothing seemed capable of being able to damage it, including a plasma cutter and some more esoteric methods. Nor has anyone been able to figure out what it's purpose is."
Bellows hit a remote, and a TV came down and began playing, showing him holding the staff, and the look of horror that crossed his images' face matched what he felt. The faucet seemed innocuous until he howled guttural words in a language he didn't know, dipped the staff at both ends and shattered it. The disintegration happened but what Erik hadn't seen was the sickly green flash of a nauseating sigil erupting around him along the ground. then the camera went static.
"The Sigil of the Gateway." Erik breathed, feeling sick.
"You know of it"
"Just now. Just what it is. What it does.. Jesus H. Christ doc, where the fuck did you people find that thing?"
"I don't know Erik, all I know is you just sent Every single mystic student into a screaming fit all at once as soon as that thing shattered. They were all screaming, like someone walked on their grave. I was hoping you could tell me what it was."
"A key. Put it to the ground, right place, right time, you open a gateway to... something. I don't know what. All I know is once it starts it's impossible to stop until it consumes the life of everything from horizon to horizon, leaving nothing but living death in it's wake. It's a mystical tacnuke Doc, and the fallout would be things that weren't alive, not dead, wholly mad, and hungry for flesh and blood and life."
"Are there any more?"
"Jesus Doc I don't know! I didn't even know what that was until you people put it in my hands!"
"How did you destroy it so completely? What you are describing tells me there should have been... Something, Some kind of backlash."
"There was doc. The kids started screaming. I think what I did forced the energy inward, back to the plane it originates from. Or something. I don't bloody well know. All I knew was that it was a horror that needed to be destroyed, so I figured out how to destroy it without vaporizing the area."
"And how did you do that?"
"I don't know. It was like working on instinct. I started out wanting to know what it was, and how to use it, but when I figured that out I just wanted to destroy it, and as I kept looking at me a way sort of popped into my mind and I did it by reflex."
"Sweet Jesus."
"Don't start lecturing on how dangerous it was doc, I know how dangerous it was. I also knew that if you did it a certain way almost all of it's energies would self-annihilate without killing everyone in the process. So I did it a certain way."
"What else do you know about it?"
"It was made of the heart of a dead tree that died by fire when the forest died of some kind of disease. It was etched with Moonsilver, amber and reeked of the blood of a lot of innocent people that formed it's essence. It was dipped in the blood of something that I'm pretty fucking sure doesn't exist in reality, and about the only thing I don't know is how to put the fucking thing together again. Which I wouldn't even if I could tell you how and I'd kill anyone who could give you step-by-step instructions."
Bellows nodded quietly. "I'm going to ask that you see Sir Westmount tomorrow. He would like to have a long talk with you about what you did and how."
"Will it help get me un-suspended?"
"I can't promise you that Erik. But it would go a long way."
"Fine, I'll go see him. We done?"
The doctor sighed. "For now Erik, for now."
The big man got up and walked out without another word.
Friday morning, November 17th
Erik walked into the training area, this time in a much better state than he'd walked into Bellows' office. Somehow he'd managed to stave off the urge to get hammered last night, but it had been a fight. He'd ended the evening by pouring the beer down the toilet, can by can, while wondering how he was going to stave off the nightmares. He'd spent the majority of the night fighting memories that burned in the back of his skull, then two hours of screaming nightmares of blood, death and carnage. Every time it was the same scene. Running toward Hawthorne, finding dead children who had not gone to the ball for one reason or another but hadn't actually died, fighting maniacal laughing figures that were only half-seen, and finally watching Cat die over and over and over again. So at the appointed time he'd thrown on his fatigues, combat boots and cover and driven to Whateley.
The small gym had three occupants. There was Westmount at one side of the room, talking to that Fey kid, Nikki. He had vague images swimming in his mind of them screaming bloody murder at him over... something. To the side was a dignified woman in a Gi, standing easily against a wall. All three looked up at him at once, and he saw a flash of fury pass through the face of the elfin girl as she began to stand. Westmount said something he couldn't hear and she settled, eyeing him darkly as the two prattled on with their lesson.
Oddly enough it was the woman in the Gi who walked over to speak to him first. Oh yes, Susannah Hagarty, one of the combat tutors they hired to mentor the girl. As she approached he nodded politely.
"Hello, Erik, is it?" Her voice and expression spoke of polite conversation in that British accent, but her posture and body language screamed to him that she thought he might be a threat. "We weren't expecting you here so early. You look awful."
"Trouble sleeping. Plus I'm trying to give up a crutch." Erik was tired, He could feel the bags under his eyes.
"Ah, well since these two are going to be at it for a while, care to talk over here?"
"Sure. Sorry about what my attitude's probably going to be like in advance, Miss Hagarty, but like I said, trouble sleeping, I feel like a damned lab rat and you are half-expecting me to sprout fangs, claws and trying to eat you."
"No I'm..."
"First rule please. No bullshit. Your face and tone are friendly but your posture and body language are anything but. And I'm really good at picking out people's state of mind by watching them move."
"Ah, mutant talent?"
"No, just lots of practice with siblings and parents. And a few others who thought everyone around them were threats. So please, don't try to fuck with me and tell me you're all happy to see me because I know that Mister Knightly over there wants to know just how the hell I managed to blast every mystic in the school with visions of a Cthulian nightmare."
Susannah nodded once and settled back. "So Doctor Bellows thinks it wasn't deliberate. You were reacting instinctively to something, and what he described was none too pleasant."
"Yeah, let's just say I'm a firm believer that some things should not exist. Period."
"I think I can respect that." She looked over at the two who seemed to be chatting. The girl seemed to be concentrating on something, and Westmount was watching her very closely. "You're a blunt young man, you know that right?"
"Yeah, you should see me when I'm in a good mood. But polite and chipper and watching what one says stacks a lot of crap on top of what needs to be said. It may be blunt, rude, or whatever you want to call it, but it cuts out the B.S. and gets to the heart of the situation fast. It hurts more to be lied to in the long run anyway."
She nodded, and the two settled back and watched the lesson quietly. Westmount and Nikki didn't really seem to be DOING anything. Erik began fidgeting, and looked annoyed, then shucked the camo shirt and began stretching. It beat sitting around on his ass. He began doing a warmup routine that he'd learned in the Corps, then stood, feeling a bit more awake and began pacing.
"You know, if you're just going to wear a hole in the floor, I could spar with you a bit. You're tense, angry, and confused, and you're definitely feeling a bit more than aggressive."
Erik raised an eyebrow at her.
"Body language, as you said, Mr. Mahren."
Erik chuckled and shrugged and moved to a ready position on the mat, after shucking his boots and socks. He and Susannah bowed once to one another and stood at the ready, her in some martial arts stance he didn't recognize and him with his hands loosely to the sides, hands wide open. He sized up the woman in front of him, noting her posture, stance and how she moved as she did the same with him. He waited for a few moments, and she made the first move. He reacted like a coiling spring, shifting down to a wrestling stance faster than most opponents could react, catching the punch and twisting, only to take a elbow to the jaw as she spun with the move.
Three seconds later Erik was on the mat, pinned to the floor and unable to move. He'd been right in his first appraisal. Hagarty was good. Better than him, in fact, with little to no wasted motion in her maneuvers. He spent a few moments gauging her strength and grip trying to break her loose, then tapped the mat.
Oblivious to the fact that two sets of eyes were now watching them, both rather smugly at watching the big man get tooled by the older woman. This time, Erik went on the attack, and deliberately overreached, promptly getting thrown across the mat, rolling and coming up on his feet. He charged again, this time being redirected into a wall. It really didn't hurt at all. She was obviously keeping to the spirit of a sparring match and he turned around and growled even though he didn't feel it.
"So are you going to actually do something Mister Mahren?"
"Yup."
Erik walked back over to the center of the mat and nodded. Susannah immediately launched herself forward, then perfectly executed a kick to the chest. It was the opening Erik had been waiting for, catching her leg and twisting it around in such a way that she'd have to turn to keep it from snapping then drove a palm into her back, propelling her across the mat, with seemingly more power than he'd actually put into it. She immediately rolled and popped back to her feet and circled him, both oblivious to the outraged gasp from the girl being taught at the "cheap shot."
After that it was on, it was vicious, it was fast, and it would have been brutal had either combatant failed to keep their strength in check or their sparring technique perfect. In the end it was Erik that was slammed to the mat, wind knocked out of him, and gasping for air. It had all been in the skill Miss Hagarty had shown. She was graceful, fast, strong and she knew what she, and he, was doing. By contrast Erik's fighting style was fast, heavy and extremely vicious, the kind Gunny Bardue would have been proud of, and he'd given the Englishwoman a royally rough time of it. But it all came down to skill. He was bigger, stronger, and a helluva lot tougher than she was, but she was simply better.
Sir Westmount and Susannah both came over when they heard the odd noises coming from the man, and were concerned until both realized he was laughing, and trying to gulp in air at the same time. When he finally rolled to his feet he grinned. "Well that was fun."
"Not bad Mister Mahren, but you could definitely use some work. I might suggest Aikido. You seem built for it."
"I'll keep that in mind. I haven't had that much fun since me and the Gunny went rounds on range two."
Erik looked around and saw Miss Hagarty smiling a bit, and both of the mystics in the room seemed torn between smiling and really hurting him. He hoped for the former.
"Now that I have your attention, I suppose you're all wondering why I called you here today," Erik said with a bow to Westmount and Fey.
Westmount's response was completely deadpanned. "Ah another comedian. This place seems to attract them like flies. Dear, get the bug spray if you would."
"Ah yes Miss Hagarty the Extra-strength Raid if you would, the regular stuff just clears my sinuses." Erik deadpanned back.
"Well, now that you're in a good mood, and you've completely broken our attention from the lesson, perhaps we could get you to tell us what happened last night." Sir Westmount didn't seem sure whether I was friend or foe at this point.
"Seen the video yet?"
"No I can't say that I have. I wasn't aware there was one."
Nikki looked like she didn't know whether to talk or keep her mouth shut. Or she was arguing with herself. Erik wasn't sure.
"All right cats and kittens, I'll be right back. I need to go get my Greatest hits DVD from Dr. Bellows." Erik walked out for a bit.
Nikki looked at her teachers. "Can I stay? Aunghadhail is rather... insistent that we observe this."
Westmount looked at her and nodded. "I have my suspicions, but you may. I worry for your safety though."
"Oh I don't think he'll be a danger," Susannah said in an almost cheerful way. "He seems a good sort."
"How can you tell?" Nikki asked. "He seemed to be rather... vicious with you on the mat, and really surly when he walked in. No, he was angry and confused, and sad. Right now he's bottling it all up and only letting his humor show but he's feeling very bitter and used right now."
"I know, Nikki, but I think I can guess the reasons for his mood," She smiled "And he was a perfect gentleman on the mat. Never used an ounce of force more than he needed to get the point across that he got me, and managed to avoid striking me in any place that a gentleman would consider off-limits when in close contact with a lady in public. He'll have to be cured of that of course, sooner or later working here, but he was more concerned with not hurting me than he was with not getting hurt."
"I don't get it. So if he wasn't holding back he would have beaten you?" Nikki looked skeptical.
"No. He's got power, drive and ferocity, but even were we trying to kill one another I would have won. He is not as skilled. Now granted, if that situation were to occur and I made even a slight error the results would be bad for someone like me. But as I said, he was a perfect gentleman, and the one time he thought he might have hurt me, he faltered, and he wound up on the mat trying to breathe."
"He doesn't like hurting people. I felt that for a brief second."
Westmount interjected, "But he will if he thinks it is necessary, without hesitation or remorse. Make no mistake, the man is a killer. He proved it Halloween night trying to get to the children in the ball on Halloween. But he is the right kind of killer. Trained, aware, and very considerate of the consequences. The only time he spared the lives of some of the attackers was when he thought a student would die by the act."
"Is that why he's so... Angry and depressed?"
Susannah sighed. "No child, it's because of something else that happened that night. He had to witness a few things that will haunt him for a long time. And he cannot talk about such things in the open just yet. That's the part that sticks in his craw the worst, the feeling that he's not allowed to mourn, or try to move on."
"Quite frankly that's why we are worried. If what happened last night was because he's having a suicidal or homicidal rage, steps will need to be taken." Sir Westmount looked thoughtful.
Erik chose that moment to walk back into the little gym. He was carrying a laptop and a few CD's. He set up the laptop at the table Westmount and Fey had been using for a study area and began flipping through the CD's looking bored.
"Porn, porn, porn, Jane Fonda? How the hell did that get in there?" He continued on while the adults suppressed chuckles. "Ah, here it is. How to scare the straights in four easy steps."
The DVD started out with him in the lab Westmount and Fey had found him in the night before, rapidly moving from one device to another, then to the weapons, disassembling, assembling and operating. He plowed through a dizzying array of gear within a half hour then moved on to the three seemingly innocuous pieces. At that point Erik began talking, explaining the talisman, the knife and the piece of runic iron as the scene went on. Then the bombshell came, and all four watched Erik puzzling over the staff, the look of dawning horror, the sink, the howling of words that three of the watchers didn't recognize, and the shattering disintegration of the staff. Then a flash of the sickening green sigil. Then the camera feed died. The room was silent for a few moments Erik took the silence as an opportunity to back away from the little redhead, feeling the power build up in her.
Nikki was the first to fully react, spinning and fixing Erik with a look that could pierce a steel wall. "By the Gods, do you have any idea what you could have unleashed? What you could have done?"
Every instinct screamed at him to drop to one knee and beg forgiveness to the little elfin girl who suddenly radiated a power and presence he was not prepared for. He wanted to swear his service to her... To be her servant. Then Erik's mind roared back to the front smashing through those thoughts and urges like a hurricane. He would not be cowed, nor possessed, nor sworn to service of anyone.
It took every ounce of willpower he had to look her in the eye and grind the words out. "Yes, Miss Reilly... I knew EXACTLY what that... thing... could have unleashed on the world. And if I had it in my hands again I would destroy it again. And I would kill any who tried to stop me from doing so."
"Aunghadhail!" It was Sir Westmount who spoke sharply. "Rein in your temper. If what we just saw was any indication, he just did the world a service. Now calm down!"
The girl's eyes flashed to her teacher, and her fury abated. A little. When she turned her head back to Erik he realized this was far from done. "How did you know how to destroy the staff, and Where did you learn that language?"
Erik simmered and let his anger buffer him from the raging little woman.
"Well? Answer me!" The imperious command was backed by... something. It gripped him and then faded almost immediately, and his Marine instincts kicked to the fore.
Erik stalked right up to the girl and spoke in a level, and deceptively calm tone. "Miss Reilly I don't know who you think you are and I do not care. You will not speak to me in that tone again. I may be here to provide answers but I will not, and I mean this in no uncertain terms little girl, NOT tolerate disrespect from a student, no matter how powerful. Now sit down and be quiet!"
The little faerie girl's eyes screwed up in fury. "How dare you..."
Erik felt something try to strike, grasp and strangle him, and each time it sloughed off of him like a cast off skin. But with each probe he felt something building, began hearing a low hum in the background and began seeing ripples at the edge of his vision, like heat distortion.
"Aunghadhail that is ENOUGH!" Westmount was up and looking angry. "I agreed to be the instructor for Miss Reilly and to help her fully master her power, but if you cannot contain yourself our partnership is at an end."
The girl snapped her eyes back and looked at Westmount, who has a look of cold fury in his expression. And there was no doubt in anyone's mind that he would carry through this threat, no promise.
"I will have your decision, now."
"Very well, but I demand answers." The girl managed to seem imperious even when giving ground.
"And you shall have them, through Nikki. Now leave us to our work. I still have a lesson and she needs to learn it."
Very abruptly the girl's expression changed, as did her posture, and she looked apologetically at the stony face of her instructor. She looked mortified and when she turned to look at Erik she winced. Intentional or not, his expression was purely controlled anger, and he looked mean, to the tune of near-violent rage, and she could feel the cold fury pouring off him like a wave.
"I'm so sorry!" She squeaked, and tried to bolt from the room.
Erik blocked her. "I believe your instructor is not finished with you yet, Miss Reilly." His voice was very carefully regulated and controlled.
Nikki turned and walked carefully towards Sir Westmount and sat down. She gave nervous looks at both men then at Susannah, who seemed to be expecting violence to erupt at any second. Erik watched her go and his boiling emotions started to calm as he forced his rage back into the deep, dark hole he kept it in.
Sir Westmount walked over to Erik, "A word, sir?"
Erik nodded and led the way into the hallway. "What the fuck was that Westmount?"
The British man took a deep breath and let it go slowly. "First, don't judge her too harshly. She is... sharing her mind with a being that is very old, and very used to having things her way. I believe you will find Miss Reilly to be an exceptional girl once you get to know her."
"Thank God, I was hoping that wasn't her personality. I won't hold it against her, but I'm not taking shit off of Ungabunga or whatever the hell you call her."
"Quite. Ungabunga, as you put it is called Aunghadhail, a very old and powerful Sidhe queen. One of the faeries."
Erik processed that for a few moments. "OK. That explains the urge to bow and pledge my everlasting service. Not like I'm going to allow that to happen any time soon."
"I see you two are going to get along rather like nitroglycerine and electricity." Wallace looked at him. "How did you shrug off her spells? She threw a lot of power at you, with the intent of humiliating you and making you beg forgiveness."
"I dunno, honestly. Part of it being I'm a stubborn prick, and while I'll follow orders from people with that right, as defined by me... "
"You will never bend knee."
"Bingo."
"But I must say, in all my time here I never expected to see Aunghadhail told to stand down in such a tone. It is rather refreshing."
"What can I say? Some guys got it..."
Erik left the comment unfinished as he poked his head in just in time to hear Nikki talking to Susannah.
"Now I know why Jade says Mr. Mahren can be scary at times."
Nikki nearly jumped out of her skin when the door slammed open and Erik walked in with a loud voice that carried. "Who speaks my name without fear in her voice?"
Susannah looked at Erik, Annoyed. "Mister Mahren, fun is fun but you did scare the girl."
Erik nodded, not seeing his errant conversation partner's dry smirk. He walked over to Nikki, who unconsciously cringed. "Miss Reilly I'm not angry at you, and you don't need to think I'm going to hold this against you. Just please, try to keep a lid on Aunghadhail around me. I don't take well to folks thinking they have some mystic right to bark orders at me."
The girl nodded and Erik looked at Susannah. "All right. Crisis is over. Let's get back to brass tacks so I can go back to working the cannon range please."
"I couldn't agree more. For now, Mister Mahren if you would, I'd like you to have a look at these three books I brought."
"Call me Erik. At this point I'm not on the staff, and I'm the interruption here."
"Very well, Erik. The books are in the satchel under the table."
"I think I'm going to go get something to eat at this time." Susannah said smoothly as she walked out. "Nikki, dear, try not to start the apocalypse. And Erik, Try not to provoke the apocalypse."
"Well there goes my weekend plans." Erik mock-groused as Nikki giggled.
He picked up the satchel, and looked at it. Black leather, brass lock. Big enough to carry all his books from High School. He thumbed the lock and jumped up, with the sound of a hissing ZAP!.
"Mother f..." Erik cut off the rest of the curses that were going to come loose in the presence of the girl and snarled. He looked at the other instructor, who was trying to look innocent. "Cute, Wallace, real cute." The British Gentleman merely smirked.
He looked at the lock, at the satchel for a solid minute, then began searching around for something. Then he grinned. "Sir Wallace, please come here and touch your ring to the lock before I start making Monty python jokes... Badly."
"Can't you open it yourself?"
"Bag's enchanted. Won't open without the key and I can't cut it. You sure you want me to open this thing myself?"
"Humor me."
Erik walked outside, bag in tow, and went straight to a tree outside the building, followed by a curious Nikki and Sir Westmount. He stopped at a tree and set the bag on a branch, then looked around for a sharp rock, which he used to cut his palm.
"EWWWWWWW!" Nikki was watching.
He rubbed his blood all over his palm and slapped it on the bag, leaving a red hand print that seemed to reflect light like a mirror. "By blood, be undone."
Both Nikki and Sir Westmount recoiled as if slapped when he spoke those words. He picked the bag up, walked inside, and opened the satchel while the two mages stood by, horrified and slack-jawed. Three large books fell out, as well as a series of odd trinkets, one of which was a khukri knife. As he set the items aside and opened the first book, he realized that each page had a series of symbols that looked identical covering the page. No, not identical, each one had minor variations, and as he scanned the first page he picked out the real symbol. He picked up a pencil from the bag's contents and lightly traced a circle around the symbol. He did the same with the next twenty pages, never spending more than a minute on each one, usually only a few seconds on each page before moving on.
The two mages burst in. "What did you do... Why?" Wallace was aghast.
Erik looked up at him. "I told you to use your ring to unlock it. I checked it, figured out what it's for, figured out how to use it. When you said to open it myself I figured out how to disable it. Permanently."
"Do you have any clue how hard and expensive it is to make something like that satchel?"
"About five thousand dollars and three weeks of bullshit ritual. Oh and a precise mix of gold and mercury in the sigil that is nearly impossible to see in the anodized brass of the lock."
Wallace and Nikki looked stunned. "And how exactly would you re-enchant the item?"
Erik pushed the book he was looking at aside. "Fucked if I know."
The older man shook his head and looked at the book, then flipped through the pages. "How did you spot these sigils?"
"Eh instinct. I look at them and I recognize them for what they are. Some are harder than others. But they have a certain feel to them."
"Well you found all the correct ones."
Nikki, meanwhile stood transfixed, staring at a piece of quartz crystal that had come from the satchel. Erik looked up, saw her, saw the crystal, puzzled over it for a moment, then looked at the enraptured face and reacted just before her hand could reach it, grabbing the slight girl by the wrist and propelling her across the room. Wallace cried out and reached for him only to wind up propelled the same way as Erik picked up the crystal and slammed it to the table, muttering something. He picked up the Kukhri and drove the blade through the glass like thing and deep into the table.
The crystal exploded with a soul-shattering shriek and a silhouette of a ghostly, elfin woman tore from the facets. It was her that was shrieking. Erik felt the power of the inhuman voice threatening to tear the life from his body when the apparition faded. He slumped to the ground, gasping for breath like a boned fish, the heat ripples at the edge of his vision creeping in ever more.
For a few moments, silence reigned. Sir Westmount was the first to recover, taking in the scene, noting Nikki was twitching and Erik was gasping for air like he was suffocating. Nikki recovered shakily and looked up.
"Banshee Crystal." She gasped. Westmount looked over at the shattered remains of the innocuous-looking crystal he'd brought along and paled.
"Dear God in heaven."
Nikki looked over at the fallen man on the floor and saw the Ley lines warping and twisting around him like snakes on the attack, the magics he'd unleashed thrashing about his body seeking egress, until finally, mercifully they subsided, pulled into him as all the magics Aunghadhail had unleashed upon him had. She'd seen the glow about him before but had shrugged it off as an after effect of eldritch energy of the staff clinging to him. Now she saw that it was him! Looking closer she felt the presence of Aunghadhail in the back of her mind guiding her perception. Impudent upstart or not, he had saved both of them, and he was building up a charge of mystic energy that was unmistakable and worrying. She could see that there was a definite limit to how much he could hold.
Studying him she realized that he was holding a LOT of power inside, and he was reaching his utter limit, accelerated by the staff, her spells, and the shattering of the crystal. "He's an energizer! And he's just about full up! If he takes any more I don't know what will happen to him!"
Westmount looked at the prone, unconscious form, and made a snap decision. He ran over to Erik and checked his life signs, and proceeded to mystically scan Erik himself. As he watched he realized that the man was holding too much energy, more than could be accounted for in the last two days' time. Even the staff could not have forced that much raw magic into his body.
"Nichole, Call medical! Get Doctor Bellows and a team here NOW and block any magic from entering this room! If he's exposed he might go into burnout!" The girl nodded and darted off. "If you're not already burning out you poor bastard."
The hammer struck the metal with a loud clang and the shower of sparks. Again it struck, in perfect rhythm, forging the blade. She paused once when it was safe to do so in her work, and quenched the heated metal in the blood of the Dragon Carathwyn, who had been felled by the Knights of the realm. After a break, she went back to work, hammering the blade again, and again in perfect rhythm. The work had to carry on through the day and on through the week. Any interruption would mean disaster and the precious Mithril being forged into the steel would be ruined and useless. She pounded at the blade, for days, nonstop, never slowing. Her queen's sword had to be ready by the eve of the solstice. So little time.
She Finally finished the blade, tired and worn, a week in the forges could weary even her. Her Lady's vassals watched as she emerged from the forge, keeping their distance as she walked directly to the center of the castle and struck the blade tip firmly into the ground. The Ice would temper the fire and the point in the hard earth would draw strength from the world and the castle. She left the precious blade in the earth and walked back into the Forge. She had to begin the hilt and pommel immediately. None would touch the precious blade. None would dare.
The forging took a week, as she examined her work. Only the richest metals had been used in the delicate basket hilt of the blade. Steel and Silver with Orichalcum laced as golden filigree made it up. The handle wrapped in precious hides was stained a deep, royal purple. She carried the hilt to the blade, and stepped up to the blade. A serving girl, vassal of her queen stopped and stared in horror. She was human, it was to be expected. The girl ran in fear as she slid the pommel onto the blade to complete the joining process.
Whispered words and bent knee before the heavens and the sky erupted in storm. Eldritch energy flashed from above and below in equal measure, as the Queen's people desperately sought shelter. It was not her place to worry about their safety. Her only concern was the blade of her Lady. She chanted on for hours, rain falling upon her naked body, and the blade. She was oblivious to the screams of terror from the humans beyond the castle wall's enchantments. The Humans would have to fend for themselves. They would cry and shout, and beg the Queen to abate her anger, but it would not. Until her task was complete there would be no abatement.
The sword slid free of the earth easily. She walked up the castle battlements, always chanting, always speaking in that language that none, not even she could understand. As she passed in and out of the castle to her destination Even the Queen's true people moved away from her, some sneering with contempt at the naked woman who blithely stalked past them. They were not her concern. Her Mistress'; will be done.
The battlements were clear, and even the pointy-eared, beautiful people of the queen dared not disturb her. To stand against the storm was beyond them, all but the most powerful mystics. She pointed the sword high, and thunder clapped and the while light of lightning speared the tip of the blade, searing it, forging it anew, ripping the length of the blade and into her. Even in her weary state she felt refreshed, energized, and ready for the next task that her mistress would lay before her once the sword was presented by the court seneschal. She would not see the queen. Base servants were to stay to their place, not seek to see or speak with Her Majesty.
She tested the blade not. She knew it would cut the strongest steel, and pierce the magic defenses of the Queen's enemies. She laid the blade by her bed and went to sleep. When she awoke, the blade was gone. In it's place there was a note with instructions, and the raw materials she needed, as divined by the Court mage. Her Majesty's champion required armor. This would take a year of nonstop work.
She walked to her mirror and looked upon herself. She did not know she was beautiful. She did not know she was human, or had been. It had been so long since she realized she was like those round-eared people. She was plain, even ugly to the court. She did not see herself. She saw the marks of the tattoos, they covered her body, her face framed on the sides by delicate, cobalt blue waves that tapered to tips on her forehead and chin. The tattoos that bound her power, that allowed her to ply her craft. Without them she would have died, consumed from within. The tattoos marked her for all to see.
Artificer.
Mage.
Weaponsmith.
Armorer
Slave.
She could not see herself, just the beautiful, delicate cobalt blue marks that were her brands. She could not remember her name. She looked in the mirror, and saw nothing.
There was a crack of shattering glass, and it took a moment to realize what it was. The mirror was shattered, her fist held in the wall, bleeding from it's passing. The castle guards desperately ran to the forge as the furious shriek tore through the silent night.
Sunday, November 19th
Erik opened his eyes slowly, mind buzzing, pulsing with the throbbing rhythm of the migraine. He hurt all over, never mind the confusing dreams of heat and steel. Still, it was a welcome respite to horror and death. He pushed himself up and gave himself a once-over, seeing everything in place where it was supposed to be. He tried to remember how he got there.
He had seen it, but hadn't looked too hard until he caught sight of the girl's face. He looked over, examining the objects on the table and saw it. He'd thought it was a simple focusing crystal at first until he REALLY looked. The knowledge had come unbidden to his mind. He KNEW that there was something trapped inside. He could tell it was calling out, reaching. Then he saw it. The trap was elegant, delicate, and keyed somehow to what the girl had become. Bean Sidhe, the ghost of a Sidhe woman who died in pain and horror. It would kill any fae that touched it, he didn't know how, but he knew it would... He reacted... The knife came down... Nothing. Pain.
He shook his head, then looked around again. He saw it. the delicate, nearly invisible lines cut into the wall. Circles, stars, and a few other symbols came unbidden to his mind. The pentacle surrounded his bed, which was situated in the dead-center of the room. Earth, fire, air, water, spirit. All focused to keep magic from the bed. The walls warded to diffuse and disperse magic in the room. He suddenly knew how to unbind the wards. He didn't necessarily want to though. They seemed to project in a protective array, and he was at the center of that protection.
His vision was off, the air around him seemed to ripple and swirl like a living thing, just below the surface. He could feel the passing energy, and he reached out to touch it... It slipped through his fingers. He couldn't grasp it, mold it, shape it as every instinct was now screaming at him to do. Shape... Mold... Build... He shook himself from the reverie, looking around again, this time standing up.
He realized as he looked at the wards on the wall, he knew what they were, though he wasn't familiar with most of them before this moment. He knew what they were, what they did, how to use them. What escaped his consciousness was why they were important and how, exactly, they worked. It was like being gifted with the knowledge to build a gun and knowing what the end result could do without understanding any of the processes involved in making it or what exactly caused it to work. Do this, get this. Do that, this is the result. Nothing of the hows and whys ever entered his mind. He looked back at the range weapon inspections. He always knew what it was made from, and always knew what it would do and how to make it work, never understanding why it worked.
It was like a bucket of cold water had been thrown in his face. He'd been doing things by rote, never knowing really what could happen if he made a mistake on the range, or with the magic items, just figuring it out and accepting the result. He knew if he stepped from the pentacle circle it would alert someone but not how it would alert them, or how it would work. The realization chilled him.
Most people, when they think of the marines, think maniacal, effective, and above all, stupid apply. Hardly anyone realized that when training it was drilled that every movement, every action carried a purpose. They were taught that purpose, and expected to learn it. It wasn't throw a grenade and it explodes in a few seconds, it was far more complex, and even the most dimwitted infantryman could explain in detail, exactly how every piece of gear he carried works. They had to. Their lives and the lives of those around it depended on this.
He was playing with explosives without the knowledge, or instructions the entire time he'd been working at Whateley. What he had been doing was both dangerous and foolhardy, though seemingly innocent. Sure, he could completely disable the entire ward network in the room more or less harmlessly, but he couldn't tell how they were interacting, or how they were working, just the beginning and the end. No middle ground was there that he could see.
He stepped from the pentacle and went through the medical closet. He picked up a bottle of clear fluid from the improperly secured cabinet and examined it without the label. Clear fluid, containing water, sodium, and a few other distinct chemicals he couldn't put a name to. Results when mixed with blood would stop the blood from clotting and scabbing over. He kept his mind clear and picked up a syringe, and the same happened. He knew what it was and what it was used for in the instinctive manner, but he actually had to think about what it was to put together the procedure for actually using both together. But he couldn't discern dosage, or potential side-effects.
"Erik what are you doing?" Doctor bellows asked from behind him.
"Checking something." He set the items down.
"Doc, find me something oddball. Find me a piece of equipment that is simple and innocuous to use that you think I won't know what the function is or what it's for."
"Why Erik?"
"Because I think I've hit the really fucking dangerous part of my being able to operate anything trick."
He didn't see the Doc leave, or return with a small device that looked like a pen until it was handed to him.
Erik picked up the pen and looked at it, a picture forming in his mind again. Some kind of sonic thing. Click it this way and it caused sonic vibrations at short range. Harmless to humans. He tried to discern why it worked. He saw the little projector in his mind, saw how it was constructed and how to disable it, about fifteen different ways, but nothing on why it worked. Erik handed it back.
"Fucking hell I've really been playing with fire." Erik braced himself against the counter.
"What's wrong Erik?"
"Doc imagine being able do open heart surgery... by rote."
"Ah, actually I can do it by rote if I have to."
"Really doc? Now imagine being able to do the same surgery without knowing the hows and whys of the human body. Imagine doing it without any knowledge but action and result." He turned as he spoke.
Doctor Bellows' face was a bit pale and he looked a bit ill. "So that's what you're doing."
"Yeah. I see all this crap on the walls I know what it IS, but not what the individual pieces ARE. I know how to start it and how to stop it, but I don't know why it works." Erik looked up. "I think I have a problem."
Bellows sighed. "Erik, your problem is bigger than that. You seem to be some kind of energizer. You've picked up a pretty heavy charge via the staff, and the magic things Sir Wallace said you have interacted with. And we missed it, but your body's been developing this charge for a while now. It probably started the day you started working here."
Erik looked up. "Oh shit. It's just building and I have a limit, isn't it?"
Bellows just nodded.
"OK. So what happens when I hit critical mass?"
"We don't know, hence the wards, set up by Fey and her tutor."
"Any way I can dump the charge? I know that oddball kid Skybolt does the same thing with electricity, but she can dump it off like it's her job."
"That's what we'd like to find out. Because when you hit that critical point and overcharge, I'm told you're porting enough magic to blow a crater the size of the campus in the ground."
"Fucking wonderful. So you mean I'm now a direct threat to the kids now too?"
Bellows nodded slowly. "I really didn't want to say it, but yes."
"Let's get to it doc. I wanna figure out how to dump this charge off."
"It will be dangerous Erik. We have to take you away from the children for this, and we can't risk them if you..."
"I get the picture Doc. Better me than them."
"That's not what I..."
"No, but it's what I meant. Let's go."
The drive out into the countryside was pretty boring, especially since the Doc seemed awfully nervous. Erik couldn't blame him. Ever since he'd been to the doc's office things had started to go straight to hell in a hand basket, and so far it was a rocky ride. He felt like he was spiraling into insanity, and wondered if he was. If it was he'd wake up strapped to a bed hopped up on drugs, probably, then have to make some kind of hellish recovery. But the problem was, it felt all too real. Never mind the whole fact that all of the students at Whately took the concept of reality and wadded it up for a game of basketball.
The truck lurched as the doc took the truck off the road. Signs were posted, he didn't pay attention until he saw the very prominent hazard warnings, marked with the biohazard sigil. One had the instantly recognizable nuclear radiation symbol. "Uh doc? where are we going?"
"Hazard zone. We test students with powers that are dangerous and often uncontrollable out here. There's a few who'd qualify were it not for their control. Tennyo for instance."
"Tennyo?"
"Blue haired girl, tends to stand in defiance of gravity. One of the Poe kids."
"I think I read the file, but I tend not to remember the kids' details unless I have to. Only Poe kids I'm familiar with are Zenith, Nikki, that Jade kid, and one or two of the boys who make the Gunny uncomfortable."
Bellows chuckled. "Gunny Bardue is a character but at least he doesn't hold it against the kids."
"Nah, Gunny's a pro. Besides, the kids tend to like him. I'm the one a lot of 'em have problems with."
"Ah, yes, you're the so-called 'range Nazi.' I figured you'd be taller."
Erik chuckled mildly. "Kids never really seem to understand the safety rules until someone gets really hurt."
"Erik, be careful. This range is for children who cannot keep their powers in check. Watch yourself. If you can bleed off the magic energy safely, I'll be happy. If not I have no idea what will happen."
Erik nodded. "Hey is that Westmount? What's he doing out here?"
"Earning Hazard pay."
Erik shook his head and got out of the truck with a nod to the doc, and walked to the Englishman fairly calmly. Inside his emotions were roiling. He barely noted it when Doctor Bellows revved the truck and drove away. "I wasn't expecting to see you out here old man."
Westmount nodded. "Yes, but the magic department is rightly rather skittish about you Erik. They are worried that they would only accidentally overcharge you and cause you to burn out. In fact the only volunteers to assist in helping you overcome this ordeal were Nichole and Sara Waite."
"Hope you squashed that idea Sir Westmount. I won't endanger the kids." Erik considered. "Maybe the Ultraviolents."
Westmount chuckled. "Well Erik, please call me Wallace. I believe two men risking death together should at least be on a first-name basis."
"Can't argue with you there. So what's the plan?"
"A few simple exercises. You soak up mystic power like a sponge. We are going to see if we can squeeze you out a bit."
"Wow, my smartass gland just ran out of juice. I don't know how to respond to that one."
"Small mercies Erik. Shall we?"
"Yeah. Let's get to it." Erik looked up. "Thanks. I appreciate this."
"No man should walk into danger alone Erik. Yea though I walk through the valley in the shadow of death..."
Erik finished the statement. "I shall fear no evil, for I am the baddest motherfucker in the valley, and my battalion is well entrenched"
"You're weird."
The exercises were a series of meditative exercises, during which Erik outlined the knowledge gap in his talent. Wallace seemed troubled about that but let it pass. He also described the undercurrent he felt almost beyond his perceptions and Wallace nodded. "All right Erik I want you to focus on that target down there. I want you to watch my movements, and words. Normally I'd force you to learn the formulae and the hows and why's but for this purpose, we need to try and bleed off your power. The target has a symbol engraved. That is the formula. Keep it firmly in your mind as you do as I do."
Wallace went through a fairly simple series of gestures, and spoke a word. "Incendius!" The adjacent target burst into flame. He showed Erik the motions again and again, forcing the marine to get them just so. Erik finally nodded and turned to the target and performed the motions and spoke the word. The currents seemed to catch in his hand and formed into... something, then snapped from his grip as he felt a wash of energy burn into him.
"Uh-oh."
"What happened? Your execution was almost perfect. I thought you were actually going to get it on the first try."
Erik looked at Wallace nervously. "That's just it. It worked. I felt it pull back and diffuse into me. Just like all the other shit."
"This can't be good."
Erik turned, and he felt one of the currents seem to stick to his skin, and as he felt it snap away he felt a spark, and a burning sensation as the air around his arm burst into a shockwave, throwing him and Wallace apart.
He tried to stand, and the brush at his feet caught fire. "Fuck me Wallace get the fuck out of here! Whatever it is it's catching and breaking off me!" He darted away from the sudden fire and vanished with a sick *POP* and reappeared forty feet away. He tried to turn, and again felt the current catch on him and froze in place like a soldier stepping on a land mine.
"Erik are you OK?" Wallace was running forward and realized Erik stood stock-still. He stopped a few feet away. "What is happening"
Erik rasped out through gritted teeth. "Those currents. They're clearer and they're sticking and snapping every time I move. Ever step on a mine that if you lift your foot it goes off?"
"Can't say I have."
"Well it's happening like that, and with every step I make I can feel that charge building. I think you might want to get the hell out of here Wallace."
"I'm not just going to leave you out here Erik."
"Yes Wallace, you are. Go. You've done all you can, now get clear and get away. No one's saying it'll be lethal. We just know it might be lethal. And no point in you getting killed by accident."
"Erik..."
"Which way is the center of the range zone here Wallace?"
The gentleman sighed and pointed. "Godspeed sir."
"Thanks. Now get out of here. I don't want any more ghosts on my conscience."
Wallace walked away from the range, got into his vehicle and drove away, fully conscious of the fact that he was leaving a good man to die alone, and knowing that good man would not allow him to stay and bear witness. He hoped that Erik was right, and this wouldn't be fatal, but he wasn't optimistic.
Erik stood stock-still for a very long time, far longer than it should have taken the man to get clear, then tensed, crouched and felt the energies clinging like spider webs to him, and he burst into a full sprint directly towards the center field, felt the energies build, release and burst around him, building up a tempo rather akin to a machine gun the faster and farther he ran, oblivious to the wake of fire, ice, storms of force or the bizarre transformations that erupted and burned about him. When the final eruption happened he was beyond delirious, and when the final wave took him he was mercifully well beyond where pain could reach him.
By Joe Gunnarson
The time was right. The tree was prepared. The forest had died by plague, the Tree burned to death. The work had taken years to accomplish, signalled by the dying wail of the last animal in the cursed place. She stood, and walked widdershins, in a spiral, carefully measuring each step in the spiral of her passage. Days passed, the ground defiled by the plague. The master bid her complete her work. She ignored the fallen bones of the dead animals, the dried out husks of every insect that had once lived here. The work had been painstaking. She had had to call upon her master's servants to make the work progress apace, no faster, no slower.
An age passed, and she came to the tree, a stark and gnarled monolith of death itself. Here the pain, and death was focused. Her hands reached out, and she tore the trunk open with hardly a grunt of exertion, tearing away the charred wood that was useless to her. She extracted the heart of the tree, leaving the rest to rot with it's brethren, carrying the dire package to her home. Her place. The master's mad children scurried about her, never looking too closely at her unmarred body, and she ignored them and their mutations. They were irrelevant to her.
She had prepared this place two years ago, a sanctum of terror even to the children of her master. The Gateway Sigil was branded into the stone floor of the massive chamber. The tools were prepared. She began forming the blackened wood, cutting away the chaff in measured detail. With each stroke, she spoke the guttural and horrific words of her master's language. The gnarled wood became a staff, and each syllable of the profane speech blackened the wood further. The staff in hand, she walked out of her sanctum.
The children of her master saw her, and gibbered madly in the wake of the awakened staff. They felt it's hunger, and begged for what they knew would join them to the creation. She ignored them, passing the boundary of the village without word or pause. The road was long. She never stopped. The township ahead never saw death slip in like a thief in the night. The two guardsmen died silently, their blood and life energy fed to the shaft of wood. With each killing she etched a rune. It would have been easier had the master allowed for his sigils, but he wanted the staff to be innocuous and unknowable. Thus did the process extend a year of prior preparation. The first man to emerge from his hovel at the screams died as his chest was shattered by a single blow from a fist, then the staff was buried in his body at one end as she etched another sigil.
One by one the men died. these were not warriors, merely simple peasants, for whom the daemon had come. One by one they fell, and as the moon reached it's zenith, the real work began. Only the crows marked the passing of the village from life. When the next humans passed through, they would find nothing, merely the dead of a village untouched in their silence even by the scavengers that fled the unhallowed place.
She returned home to madness. The master's children gibbered and whooped at her passing, though none dared touch her or her charge. They gathered around her sanctum and chanted as she stepped into the gateway sigil. The rite was complex, the stars in perfect alignment. The roiling darkness and horror coalesced into an unknowable mass, A Shoggoth. Eyes and mouths and tentacles watched and flailed and screamed in profane chorus as the beast's presence drove the master's children beyond the brink of madness. She struck twice, drawing debased ichor from the beast at both ends of the staff and drove the end into the center of the sigil. The Shoggoth did not interfere. It did not care that the speck of nothing had blooded it.
As it flowed over and around her she called out the final syllables of the horrific chant, ignoring the screams in the village as the monster devoured all life in it's path, absorbing the master's children into it's own mad formlessness. The chanting continued and gained crescendo, until finally all sound ceased, in time with the last mutated wretch's dying, ecstatic wails. Eldritch light erupted through the sigil, binding it's power to the staff, and she stood against the storm of energy that crawled across her mind. It did not matter. She could not even see the eldritch, nauseating, green symbols branded into her flesh, the energies matched her color perfectly. And any mortal being who looked upon the mad whorls and spirals in the pattern would have gone instantly mad. It had happened before.
A gateway tore open as the energies coalesced. She stepped through and knelt in supplication, holding the instrument forward, head bowed. It was taken from her gently, and a tentacle raised her gaze . She beheld her master, in all it's glory. She...
Dark chest of wonders
Seen through the eyes
Of the one with pure heart Once so long ago -Nightwish, 'Dark Chest of Wonders'
Whateley infirmary,Thursday, November 24th
She woke up screaming, primal madness and terror warring in her voice as her mind desperately drove the image from her mind and destroyed it to protect itself from what would come if it failed to do so in time. Her horrified shriek echoed through the bare room, and she screamed and screamed and screamed, eyes wide in horror and near-madness. Eldritch fire erupted across her body, burning away the blankets and the sheets, searing the bed to it's frame and giving voice to her terror.
The doctors' staff at Whately bolted into the room to see their charge burning with unholy eldritch fire that did not touch her skin. One of the orderlies tried to restrain her and recoiled, burned as the eldritch energies lashed out from the screaming girl. The sound was soul-wrenching, showing a depth of horror that few could comprehend. The confusion reigned until Ophelia burst into the room and barked a few words. The wards flashed and the fire died, but she kept screaming. Doctor Bellows walked up and pressed a needle into her thigh as the orderlies desperately tried to restrain her. A few seconds later the screaming began to fade, and she slumped back onto the charred mattress. The unholy light in the room finally died as she passed from consciousness.
Mrs. Carson looked at Gunny Bardue across her desk. The Ex-Marine was angry, tired and stressed. One of his best people was laid out on a gurney in Whateley's infirmary, and unable to see anyone for the safety of all involved. Carson could definitely understand his perspective on this, and for once his discomfort over the kind of changes his man had gone through did not show. At this point he was far beyond caring.
"I can't just approve of that and you know it, Elizabeth. He's one of us, and he's been a damned fine example to the students as well." He paused to compose himself. "I understand the concern here but we can't just dump him in the brig at ARC! I don't get it. We have several students who are just as dangerous to themselves and others and we make accommodations for them over at Hawthorne. But a teacher's powers explode into the fritz and suddenly he needs to be black holed?"
"Gunny name one student who could be considered as dangerous, or even nearly so. His uncontrolled explosion was well beyond anything that we can contain." Carson kept her voice even. She agreed with Bardue on principle, if not when compared with the safety of the school.
"Puppet."
"Gunny we can't compare her to Mahren. It's not on the same scale."
"Same scale? We have to keep that poor girl sequestered away from everyone to keep her blood from killing someone on contact. Spill that shit and it'd take a decontamination team weeks to clean that shit out."
"I'm not seeing any options here gunny. Every time Erik moves, even in sleep, there's a burst of magical energy. Hell he damned near destroyed the room he was in earlier today. I agree with you on principle but even if we keep him here, we couldn't let him out of wherever we put him, just in case he has another uncontrolled episode like the hazard test range."
"I can't see why everyone's so fucking ready to hang him out to dry. He's a good man and a good marine."
"Gunny I know he is, but I know with you this is personal. He's your man. He had been even while in the armed services."
"Personal? Yes it's personal." Bardue forced himself to calm down. "Even with my personal feelings, and Hartford's aside, since I put Erik on weapons control and rangemaster there has not been one single injury on any range while he was directly supervising it."
"I read his record since he got here. It's exceptional, but there we can't handle him here, and there is nothing that says this was a result of the school's normal operation."
"Wanna bet?" The large Marine leaned back as Carson looked at him. "First off, his talent for weapons and gear is well-documented in both his personnel file and his service jacket. This whole thing snowballed because of me, his direct supervisor. Further, I was following school policy when I ordered him to go see the docs in accordance with those policies. Further, had he not gone to see the doctors he never would have snowballed into the nightmare that's happened to him."
Mrs. Carson was silent, listening quietly.
"And last, he's an energizer, only keyed to magic instead of another, more common phenomenon. Nobody picked up on that. Not his folks, not the Corps, and not our overworked staff here even when he was being tested for this shit. He's been building a god damned charge from the minute he stepped on the grounds on his first day. The only reason we found out was because a freshman girl happened to get a good look at him after he blew an item, that from Westmount's description, would have killed her on contact. And you're telling me the school doesn't owe him anything?"
"What would you have us do Gunny?"
"Carson I don't know, but if we don't try, and we just Black Hole him we'll have betrayed a good man and left him to rot as a lab animal like the real threats in this world deserve." He got up from his seat and walked to the door. "Further, if Mahren is sent to ARC the letters of resignation from myself and the entire Crisis Simulation Team will be on your desk Monday morning."
Bardue left the office without another word, leaving Carson looking as if she had bit into something foul. In a way she had, and he was right. But how in God's name could she acquiesce to his wishes and keep the students safe at the same time? And how could she live with herself if she didn't try to help the man?
Erik woke up slowly as the realization that he was not, in fact, dead filtered into his consciousness. He shifted under the sheets a bit and a stinging crackle accompanied by a burning sensation accompanied the movement. He jolted upright, and another snap accompanied the hissing sound as he bolted out from the bed. The first thing to filter into his forcibly awakened consciousness was that he felt wrong, body felt lighter, completely balanced wrong, and there was an uncomfortable wobble at his chest. There was also hair in his face. He brushed it up over his head and looked around.
The room was large, about the size of his old apartment. And it was absolutely covered, walls, floor and ceiling in wards and glyphs and symbols he didn't feel like getting too curious about just yet. The bed was a typical hospital bed, all white and made for maximum discomfort, and the sheets and mattress has scorch marks all over. Hooray for fireproof linens. Besides the bed, there wasn't much to the room besides a mirror, and every time he turned or twitched to look around there was a static hiss, and occasional a crackling snap. The snaps hurt, and he twitched and closed his eyes, holding perfectly still.
Given the feelings he was getting from his body he could guess what had happened, although he didn't exactly know how to feel about it. He opened his eyes and walked to the mirror, trying to keep his calm while knowing exactly what he was going to see. Yup. It wasn't him anymore, and every time something moved the mirror showed coruscating energy clinging to him, or rather, her. Wild blues, greens and angry reds ripped across the body of the girl reflected, sometimes erupting in sparks or little arcs of energy, similar to lightning. Those stung like a bitch. He took a deep breath and looked closely. Best get it done before reality caught up and he freaked out completely.
The heart-shaped face was very well defined, and showed no hint of the older man he'd been before. Thick, dark, bluish-black and very reflective hair hung down straight, to the small of her back. Her eyes were the disturbing bit. They had a color of metal, and seemed rather reflective as well. He looked close and realized that the irises seemed to have been disks of shaped steel, with some kind of marks, or runes etched around the pupils. Her pale skin was offset slightly by her lips, which while pretty and definitely 'his type' was never going to attract DSL jokes. Thank God for small mercies.
"Oh fuck me running." No surprise, his voice sounded lighter, and quite a bit more feminine than before.
He took a deep breath and backed away, then looked down, twisting to get a good look. He ignored, or tried to ignore the odd snapping and sapping, hissing sounds and smell of ozone whenever he moved. Trim, athletic, with some well defined muscles, his new form didn't have any excess body fat, except the one place where he never wanted to see it. Those breasts looked huge from where he was standing, though they seemed to be perfectly proportioned to her body in the mirror. He checked his plumbing. Yup. It's a girl. God damn it. This sucks.
Erik closed his eyes for a minute and fought down the howl of rage and frustration that was building inside and felt a massive pressure, and a sensation he'd not felt since some hellish winters in Alaska as freezing waves rippled across his naked body. Eyes opened again and he saw that every single ward was glowing with a purple almost fae light. He also saw that frost was forming on his skin, and along the floor and wall. He sucked in the emotions and the frost vanished, burned away by the wards surrounding him until they stopped glowing.
He examined the walls and floors, mind sifting through the sigils and runes until it clicked. The wards were there to dampen mystic energies, and they were really powerful. The door to the room was also marked, and Erik snarled when he recognized it as a portal ward. he wouldn't be able to break it from this side of the door, so not only was he in a room full of mystical power dampeners, and in the wrong body to boot, but he was a prisoner here.
"Windows. Jesus I'm an idiot sometimes."
The windows were fairly large, they were also marked with the same containment sigil as the door, and further warded to hold in power. It was too much. Erik slammed a fist at one, and it ricocheted off something invisible. He leaned against the glass and felt the frustration building again. He could see the main part of campus a ways off, see the children milling about between the buildings. And here he was, trapped in a god damned storage building, apparently with no way out and not even a pair of underwear. Screw it Let it out.
The scream ripped out, loud and long, and it felt good, rather cathartic in fact. What he hadn't counted on was the eruption of electrical balls that burst on the center of the room, sending bolts of energy into every part of the room. The wards absorbed the shock. The bed didn't. It's frame wasn't grounded well and the part where one of the bolts struck super heated one of the legs, which buckled, bent and snapped, dropping a corner of the aluminum frame onto the floor. It didn't help that the thunderclaps hurt, and it didn't help that it was startling and more than a bit scary.
The emotional roller coaster of fear erupted around Erik, burning with eldritch fire and the Ice of the Arctic and stormed through the room in a mad cacophony, blasting the mirror and bed to shards, and wracking him with sizzling pain without burning the flesh whenever it struck, but he felt his vitality sapping with each strike, and the panic grew, all while the wards in the room burned like purple stars to contain the eruption.
When the storm ended he was huddled in a corner, shaking uncontrollably, causing more of the mystic energies to burst, crack and sizzle along his body. He didn't know what was going on, and at this point he was emotionally burned out, and mentally drained. He didn't even have the presence of mind to realize he was crying as the tears fell.
When the door opened he was oblivious as Gunny Bardue entered the room. Bardue took stock and noted the annihilation of the bed and mirror, then saw the girl huddled in a corner crying quietly. The walls and floor and ceiling showed no sign of damage, but he could only imagine what had happened here. He looked at the demolished bed and picked up a scorched, but intact sheet and walked over, draping it over the naked girl. He winced as the arcs of energy scorched the ends of his arms a little. She pulled the sheet in tight and looked up.
"You look like you're having a rough time kid." Bardue paused. "You OK? You look pretty shaken up."
Erik looked up and saw the big man standing over him. "I don't know what happened. I was trying to figure stuff out. I got frustrated and everything blew up." She seemed damned near on the verge of tears again.
"Normally I'd tell you to pull yourself together, but given the circumstances, I'm going to go get a replacement for your bed. Try to calm down and we'll talk."
"Can I get some clothes?"
"We tried that. You keep burning through everything. Got the magic department working on something for ya."
Erik nodded and Bardue walked over to the wrecked bed and hauled the remains out of the room, leaving the door open. He stood, wincing at the cracking and hissing, walking slowly to the door. He poked a head out the door and the response was immediate. Green lightning arced in the hallway as several lights exploded all at once, and the wind began rushing. He pulled back into the room and the disturbance ended quickly.
He wandered over to one of the walls and leaned against it, wincing with every few steps. He looked around again and sighed.
A loud thump as the end of a bed frame pushed through the door sounded, and he heard muffled grumbling. The bed came in and Bardue set it down with a loud thump before going outside and bringing in the mattress and more fireproof sheets. "Damn, Erik what the hell happened to the hallway?"
Erik shrugged. "Poked my head into the hallway and things went apeshit so I ducked back in. Wasn't fun."
"Yeah I can imagine. Stay inside the room until we can figure out a way for you to safely move about, will ya? I know it sucks, but you're building up intensity, and we couldn't keep you in sick bay safely any more."
"Figures. I'm not sure how it all goes together, but this is some heavy duty shit." He pointed at the walls and floor while holding the sheet wrapped around him with the other hand.
"Damn kid you light up like a Christmas tree whenever you move."
"Tell me about it. Seems like every few minutes I'm getting electrocuted, and it burns like a motherfucker." Erik looked at Bardue for a minute. "I'm not going to be able to go back to work am I?"
"I dunno Erik. We're not sure, but it's looking like that won't be in the cards. Especially not with Hartford throwing her two cents into the pile. I don't know what we can do with you at this point. I had to do some fast talking to keep them from dropping you in Red Complex."
"You gotta be fucking kidding me. I'd rather suck off a shotgun."
Bardue smirked. "Yeah I kinda figured it'd be something like that. I'm still trying to find a way to keep things going, but for now I need you to cooperate as much as you can so you can get through this."
"Wonderful. More Lab Rat time."
"Hey, look at it this way, our human Lab Rats get fed and clothed. Like I said, I got the magic department kicking around some ideas for clothing that won't randomly flash-fry. I'll be back. Going to go snag you some chow at the chow hall, then see if I can't scrounge up a few books on magic stuff for you to look at and work on.
"Thanks, Boss."
"You hang in there, Marine. You been through worse shit than this. We'll find some way to help you."
"Semper Fi Gunny."
Monday November 27th
The last couple days had been a hell of boredom and frustration, staring at walls that held the maddening glyphs and wards. The currents Erik could see were more defined and distinct, superimposed seemingly 'behind" reality somehow. The worst part was the boredom. She's had nothing to occupy herself for four days. The books Gunny had brought had survived all of eight minutes before bursting into flames, disintegrating or simply falling apart, completely unravelled winding up as a mass of wood pulp in a pool of ink. Then there was the whole sleep thing.
Every time she fell asleep she wound up awake and alert less than an hour later, and no amount of tossing and turning could help it, so she bided her time by pacing back and forth through the room, getting used to ignoring the odd burning or electrical or freezing feeling that ripped across her body whenever that multi hued corona erupted all over her. The computer had been a bust, the keys now resembled some poor kid's science experiment gone horribly, horribly wrong, with small plants growing in the circuitry.
The worst part, which she was keenly aware of, was her body. It felt off, moved completely differently around the hips, and her center of gravity had dropped, throwing off her balance. The walking and running had helped,and her muscles were very clearly defined, without looking like a professional weight lifter, just very athletic. Her tattoos were gone, something she hadn't noticed until she'd tried to sleep, replaced by unmarred skin. That seemed odd with the dreams she had that only lasted as long as she was out, but seemed to cover years. In every dream she was marked in metallic tattoos of varying colors and patterns, and the thought of them brought a simultaneous need and revulsion. She didn't know what it was, but whatever she had become wanted them, while somewhere, on some primal level, everything that made the core of who she was raged in defiance of it.
Things were not helped by the fact that all she had for clothing was a fireproof bed sheet. She deliberately forced her mind away from things she lost, as every time she got deep into such thought, depression came, and with it wild storms of uncontrolled energy that the wards could not suppress. "It doesn't matter what I've become. I'm still me." It had become her mental mantra, her shield against the seeming waking nightmare. She'd honestly wondered how the kids who had to deal with the problem coped. Most of them didn't have an extra thirteen years of self-image reinforced every day. She figured it was that self-image that was keeping her somewhat sane. After all, the body didn't define the person. That's what she kept telling herself at least.
Gunny Bardue walked in carrying a suitcase just as Erik got bored, and was treated to the sight of a naked woman doing push-ups easily, each movement causing ripples and waves of energy to burn along her body. He turned away, not that he wasn't liking the sight, but it was Erik. He wouldn't violate the other marine's trust for anything.
"Hey Erik, hurry up man I got a package for ya." He hollered over his shoulder.
He heard some slapping of feet and a rustling. "All right Gunny, I got my toga on. Come on in."
Neither mentioned the naked push-ups. It didn't feel appropriate. "So whatcha got for me there, boss?"
Bardue shook his head. "The latest and greatest from the mumbo-jumbo crowd here. Clothes. They said they did something to keep the Llama energies from peaking out. So I guess it's just finger-wiggler lingo for keeping you from hitting critical mass and going nuclear."
The suitcase popped open and Erik looked at the clothing. Yup. This was going to take some getting used to. Clothing, and underwear, all styled appropriately for a teenage girl. "If I see anything with Hello Kitty in here someone's going to die."
Bardue chuckled, looking a bit uncomfortable. "Sorry, this is going to take some getting used to."
"Tell me about it. Remind me to fire my career planner." Erik shot a sidelong glance at the Gunny.
"Hey wait a minute you little snot-nosed dust rag..." Bardue stopped as he caught the smirk.
"Even after what, eight years, you're still too easy to get a rise out of there bossman."
"Not my fault I got stuck with a smart-mouthed pissant PFC who knew entirely too much for his own good." Bardue was relaxing, good.
"OK Gunny, first off, same rules of the game. If you start treating me any different I will go absolutely insane and I will take you with me. Just cause I had a freak fit and have boobs is no reason to get all wonky on me."
"It's weird Erik, hell I'm even having a hard time calling you by your old name. It just doesn't fit. And Erika is a far jump too."
"I know, and it's driving me fucking nuts." Erik picked up a few pieces of clothing. "So what's been happening since my happy bout of incarceration here at Whately Correctional?"
"The usual." He continued as Erik went into the small bathroom. "The students are missing you, the good ones at least. The Grunts are pretty off-kilter, seems they prefer your hardass PMI teaching style. The crisis team's waiting on word. They wanna see you up and about. Wilson's a bit freaked about the whole... Chick thing. He'll cope."
Erik's new voice was muffled by the bathroom door. "Wilson better swallow it down. That fucker still owes me from that poker game two weeks ago."
"Erik you been card sharking again?" Bardue had warned him about that... Repeatedly.
"It's not sharking when I tell them up front I can and will take them for every dime they have, and that I was offered a spot in a Vegas tournament."
"Oh well, in that case stupidity should be punished."
"Stupid thing is the idiot wants a rematch to recoup his losses."
Erik came out and the Gunny was stunned to see a young woman in a white tank-top halter with black jeans. Everything hugged her figure and made her look very attractive. The white halter was covered in glyphs and sigils, embroidered in black and silver thread, a pentacle prominently displayed between her breasts. The pants were hip-huggers that fit very tight. More glyphs were sewn in with that silvery thread, making her look rather like the teen pagan from hell. It didn't help that with her face, figure and metallic hair she was a real looker.
"Wow. That was fast."
"It's what all the girls loved about me Boss, I pay very close attention to details." She threw her hair forward then back, letting it fall straight along her back and shoulders. "How do I look?"
"Get a bat and a gun. And don't go near any military bases."
"Wonderful." Erik looked around and pulled on socks and sneakers, then a pair of fingerless, black leather gloves with more wards on them. The corona seemed to die out as she got fully dressed, save for a few sparks in the hair. That went away when she tossed on the red ball cap with another pentacle embroidered in the brow. She found a wallet with all of her I.D.s and her debit card in the mix, helpfully warded. Her keys were there, including all the ones to the Whateley grounds. She slid that into her pocket and stood up, realizing that the magic energy didn't immediately spark up when she did. It was like those currents were being pushed away and forced to release when they did touch her.
"Holy shit I can move."
"Yeah, Circe said as long as you're wearing this mumbo-jumbo clothing and inside the wards your little nimbus thing should be fully suppressed. Outside it's back to the mad light show like before in here. Don't take off the clothes outside, otherwise things might get really interesting."
"Great. Who's bright idea was the teeny kid wear? And how the hell did they find it so it'd fit so well?"
Bardue grinned. "Well, Circe, in her supposedly immortal wisdom, figured it'd be easier for you to be anonymous if you looked like any other kid on campus. The ward-things have to be wide-open to work right. As to the measurements..." He kinda looked sheepish.
"Oh HELL NO! You didn't." She took his guilty look in and turned bright red, cheeks burning. It was a well-known talent back in the marine barracks that Gunny Bardue had. He could look at a woman and tell someone what the woman's measurements were to the millimeter. There had been more than a few betting pools in the barracks over it.
"Let's never talk about it again. Ever." She ground out through clenched teeth. "And if I hear about a betting pool in the CST I will kill all of you in the most painful fashion I can come up with."
"No betting pools Erik. Well, one, but we're having a bitch of a time getting the information on Hartford. So far that pot's been growing for a while."
"Put me in for twenty that you win."
"Look, Erik, I wasn't sure how to tell you this, but it's about Cat's memorial."
Erik felt his mood darken severely. The corona came back with a hiss. Blazing red energy ripped across her body, and over her new clothing.
"They held it yesterday. Hartford pushed it based on the fact that no one could be sure how long you'd be laid out. I wasn't able to do anything about it."
"That fucking bitch, I'm going to kill her!" The partial body corona erupted into a full body burn, in fiery oranges and reds as her emotions lit up. It burned, it hurt. Good. "She knew that this was the one god damned thing I wanted. I wanted to be able to lay Cat to rest! God damned fucking WHORE!"
Bardue flinched from the sudden display. "Erik, there's nothing I can do, and killing Hartford won't bring her back."
"No but it'll make me feel a whole lot better."
"God damn, kid, we put too much marine in you. Tell you what. I'll lay in some targets with her picture on them, but you can't go haring off with violence on the mind, comprende?" He nodded as the glow simmered and finally faded. "I know you're mad, but it's all I can do to keep you here and not in a lab. Never mind your job, which I'm not sure we can get back unless your situation drastically improves. Whenever someone touches you or moves you it's hit or miss whether they're going to get hurt, bad."
"Hurt? I thought it just hurt me."
"No Erik, that energy that causes pain to you had burned or severely injured people who were moving you to the room here. And that's while you're asleep. It's ten times worse when you're awake, from the doctors' notes."
"Oh I feel so much better now."
"Yeah." He looked at his watch. "Look I gotta get back to the simulator. We're running the Grunts and that Kimba batch through the wringer tonight. Get out of the room, get some air, walk around. Think about what you want to do for the next couple weeks. The only thing you're really not allowed to do is resume duties on range control or official instruction. At least, that's what Hartford said. So get creative and have fun."
Erik smirked. The last time Gunny had told him to get creative and have fun he'd thrown a kegger at the barracks, flaunting, bending and exploiting about a dozen base regs, and had gotten away with it. He'd been the hero of the platoon until the next morning's hangovers.
She looked out the window, noting the green flag, and walked to the door, gingerly stepping into the hallway. The currents were clinging and snapping again, causing the stings and burns, but no eruptions, no storms of hell and no demons poking through to eat her. So far so good. She left the storage building and walked out towards the campus and prepared to face down her new change.
She got a lot of stares. Mostly from the guys, and not a few girls, which made her self-conscious as all hell, but she figured it had as much to do with the fact that she looked like she had St. Elmo's fire ripping across parts of her body at random. Then there was the whole Avatar of Pagan Mysticism look from all of the glyphs, wards and sigils on her clothes. She supposed it could have been worse. Some of the kids were a hair shy of absolutely horrific, and they tended to hide away from the public eye. At least she didn't have to hide from normal people.
The walk through campus was uneventful, if a little hellish to her awareness that a lot of people were looking at her, and she caught more than a few snippets of conversation about her ass and tits. The conversations stopped when the Arcane fire started really blazing when she caught Greasy and Peeper talking about her on the WARS setup they always carried about.
"And look at this new hottie to the Whateley board!, absolutely smoking! Care to tell us your name missy?" Peeper was always really good at not getting caught by the campus watchdogs at his kind of obvious sexual harassment. Sure it was broadcast for all at the school to hear, but they actually needed to catch him at it.
Erik had made all the classic blunders, walking alone, not really looking around much and looking like an easy mark in general. "Not in the mood for this boys, please leave me alone."
Peeper pressed on, oblivious to the reddening face and fiery corona that was building around her. Several other students saw the buildup and started backing away.
"Aww, come on hottie, if you're not going to tell us your name you could at least share the secrets of how you developed such a fine ass."
That was it. Erik's temper blew. His fuse about certain things was painfully short, harassment of women being the easiest trigger that didn't involve outright attack. Peeper jumped back, alarmed as the air around the young woman exploded in a cloud of black energy that hissed, steamed and was rapidly melting the concrete around her.
"Listen you little perverted Jack-off! If you come near me again I swear by all that is holy and a few things that aren't I will end you!" The expression on her face was somewhere between angry and bloodletting psychotic, and that blackened cloud was creeping outward.
"I can see you're in a bad mood, so we'll talk to you later." Peeper and Greasy bolted off, looking for an easier target as Erik fought to get her emotions in check. Slowly, steadily, the fog vanished and she stood there, breathing slowly. When she stepped away and looked down, the concrete was warped and deformed at the radius, and the surface seemed almost glassy, obsidian. She knelt down and cracked the glassy sheen away from the rest of it and broke it into chunks idly, wondering why she was doing it. Pretty soon she had two big chunks of it, and several more were jammed into her pockets.
Then she became aware of it. The stares. There were more than a few slack-jawed looks and people were looking at her like she'd sprouted a second head that preached the gospel of Dagon. Then again there was a small crowd of girls who were clapping. Erik raised a fist to them and walked away, trying to be nonchalant, as if she had intended the bit of minor havoc.
She went back to her room and dumped the obsidian in a corner, and stared at it for a few minutes. "Tools. I need tools." She never realized that she was zoning out, almost on autopilot, as new instincts kicked in, sparked by the sudden appearance of the Obsidian glass.
She was back out the door and on her way to the school store pretty quick. She'd been to the store often enough, and the presence of oddities like bulletproof jackets didn't even faze her. She wandered into the area frequented by devisors and started poking at the tools. She eventually settled on hand tools and sanders. Nothing in the lot was motorized.
She wandered over to the mystic section and snagged a goodly number of random bits and pieces that actually caught her eye, as well as some blank rings that weren't made of any normal jewelry metals, and a silver chain. She carried the lot in a basket that shocked the kid at the register when he saw how deformed and scorched it was.
"Umm, is that all?" He looked at the basket like it might try to eat him.
"Got anything I can carry this lot in? Preferably something really resilient. I think plastic bags would get destroyed."
"Uh, yeah." He wandered over and picked up a heavy steel-reinforced briefcase and hauled it over.
"Sweet, thanks." She kinda bounced in place, mind elsewhere, and showing some really ADD behavior, not to mention distracting her cashier every time she bounced.
He put all of her stuff into the case and charged her debit card. She picked up her loot, and grinned, never realizing that he was paying very close attention as she left. She was in the zone, heading back to her room, then out the door just as fast. Erik wasn't really thinking, just acting, as if by some weird impulse. She hiked out away from the campus grounds and began sifting through the dirt until she found what she was looking for. She wasn't even sure what it was until she found it.
An hour later a pinkie knuckle-size piece of quartz was added to the pile and she wandered out to the auto shop, picking up a disposable acetylene torch and igniter, followed by a visit to the magic department, where she trimmed away a few loose ivy leaves from the wall. A picture was forming in her mind, and she was damned near completely mentally occupied, not registering the looks and comments from the boys on campus. It just didn't seem important. The occasional shock and stab of mystic pain didn't seem to bother her either.
As she went back around, a few kids entering the magic department just stared. One child saw the phenomena, but other senses showed something very different. The other students were much the same, shocked at how much raw magic tore across her skin, and how much more was restrained by some very powerful wards. All of them were left with an impression of heat and steel being shaped and forged.
The hyperactive, distracted mood evaporated as she sat down next to her little pile. The rings came out, as did two pieces of obsidian, one large, and one fairly small. she set a small ceramic container to the side and lit the acetylene torch, promptly dropping the two rings and the quartz crystal before slowly heating them with the flame. It seemed to take forever, but the metal started to glow, and the crystal cracked a bit from the heat. She set them aside and took the small piece of obsidian and used a hammer and chisel to crack off the sharp edges and split off the sides. Another tool came out and she began scraping away unwanted material, then sanding and polishing the piece gently. When she was done she set it aside and heated the metal and crystal again. When she was done she went outside, taking all of her stuff with her, leaning against the walls, outside the influence of the wards.
The long shard of obsidian she chipped, cracked and cut away. She ended with another piece that looked like a dark glass knife with an sixteen-inch blade. She took out the etching tools, and began carving symbols and patterns in the blade. She didn't know how she knew them or how she knew where to place them, but she did. She did the same to the smaller piece. She heated the rings and crystal again, this time letting them melt and gel into one another. She began chanting as she kept the heat on, watching the metal pool become almost clear. She dropped in the ivy leaves and let them sear to ash and mix with the odd fluid. She dipped the small piece into the odd liquid, and then poured the rest onto the blade while gripping the hilt. In each case the melted stuff dripped like mercury through the channels and patterns etched, but slid off the naked obsidian like water off a windshield. Most of it wound up cooling on the ground, but just enough managed to stay inside the markings.
She watched and waited, seeming to time every breath and counting seconds. The sun hit the horizon and she slid the silver chain through the loop she had carved on the small piece and hung it from the branched of a nearby tree, where it could bathe in the moonlight. The blade she pierced the earth with, and left it to sit as the sun's dying rays passed over the world.
"You understand your task here, child?" The wizened old man's eyes were alight with hope... and greed. The priest's robes he wore were scorched and marked from handling the girl into the closed chamber.
"Yes, your eminence, I understand. I will wait and be still while you flense the sickness from me." She looked around. The chamber was marked, wall to wall with the symbols of the church to ward off unholy influences.
"Yes child, while I was expecting a warrior, I suppose God works in mysterious ways. Now lie down. This will hurt most likely."
The girl nodded, giving a hateful glare to the mirror, noting the metallic hair, the mad eyes and the energies that marked her apart from her family. She steeled herself and disrobed, lying on the table as the priest began his prayers. He held a needle in his hand, and a glass jar, horrifically expensive, and filled with a metallic gold fluid. His prayers didn't stop over the course of two days and nights, as he carefully dipped the needle into the golden ink and pierced her flesh. He did it again, and again, thousands of times over, carefully marking the symbols of purification and absolution upon her.
She felt the prick, the pain on her face, her arms, her breasts, her stomach, her legs. The whole time he kept stern concentration, and kept painful attention to the details. When he was done with her front he went to her back, again pricking, always marking her. She knew that the Cardinal would save her. She knew her soul was in peril and was willing to be marked for life if it meant she may go to heaven. The pain, the marks, the pricks. She prayed silently that she would not be so marred that she would never find a husband. Little did she know, it was not to be.
He placed his hands in her head, and she could feel blessed water dripping down her hair. "In god's name, be complete child."
She burned, her skin feeling the searing light that penetrated her mind and soul. Then she felt a numbness creep through her body, penetrating everything she was. She felt... empty.
"Lord in heaven please forgive me for what I have done to this child."
What did he just say? Never mind, it was unimportant. She stood quietly and looked into the mirror. She was beautiful still, with metallic hair, and odd eyes. It did not seem to matter anymore. The emptiness filled her, and she knew the demon had been driven from her. She couldn't see her old face, any sign of... a name... She had a name before. She couldn't remember it. Perhaps the demon had taken it when it was driven out, leaving her with the metallic golden marks, the script across her forehead in Latin, the cross that framed her breasts, or the other symbols of the church that were now a permanent part of her body.
"Come, little artificer. The Knights of the Thorns have a service they need you to perform." His voice seemed strained with something...guilt? It didn't matter.
"Yes Master."
The priest recoiled as though he had been stabbed.
Tuesday, November 28th
Mrs. Chulkris walked into the empty room in the early morning just before dawn. Apparently Mahren was off enjoying his new freedom. She was glad she and Circe had been able to put that wardrobe together on such short notice. Even though Mahren and Bardue often maligned the mystics of Whateley as mumbo-jumbo speaking finger wigglers, they were good people. She checked the wards, and saw no damage. A few simple tests showed that they were still going strong, so she looked around. A glimmer of light caught her eye out the window for a brief second, off something glassy hanging from a tree outside. The sun's face was just now peeking from over the horizon.
She went outside and looked around, noting the tools and the torch lying near the wall. There were bits of obsidian glass all over the place, and something else. She pried the odd, silvery crystalline substance from the ground. It had pooled and congealed with bits of dirt and rock trapped within. It was light, but she couldn't bend or break it. She muttered something under her breath, and the stuff faintly glowed with a purplish light. She turned to look at the tree, and saw a inch-wide obsidian pentacle pendant with intricately carved runes dangling from a silver chain on a branch. The runes were filled with that odd, silvery crystal. She reached out, but held back, whispering something.
The pendant seemed to burst into eldritch fire, only white, like the balefires of fae legend. She stood back as the fire faded, and the pendant, unmarred, sat glittering in the sun's rays. She almost tripped over the knife. She looked down and picked it up, noting the insanely sharp blade and the silvery crystal etchings carefully. The knife practically hummed, and she could feel... something. Another test and the blade burned with white fire, as the pendant had.
A girl's voice rang out. "Awww, shit!" Then a snapping and buzzing sound erupted. When she turned it was to face a girl who looked somewhere in her mid-teens to mid-twenties bolting across the yard, a corona of energy blazing violently to match the girl's frantic speed. A forgotten lunch bag lay on the ground a ways back.
"Shit shit shit shit shit! You didn't touch them before the sun came up did you?" She seemed almost frantic.
"Calm down, dear. The sun was up when I found them." She got a good look. From the metallic hair and odd, metallic eyes she looked like Bardue's description of his wayward range hand. That and she was wearing the clothing she and Circe had made. She could see that the wards would need to be improved. The girl was still crackling and sizzling with every movement. The lines around her looked like they were clinging and snapping insanely.
"Oh thank god." She seemed honestly relieved.
"Where did you get these?"
"The knife and the pendant? I made them yesterday. I don't know why I set them so, but I know it was important."
Mrs. Chulkris could swear there was something odd about her eyes. Then the statement registered. "You made these yesterday? How? It takes months to empower items like this!"
"Huh? Empower? Uhhhh." Now the girl seemed confused.
"Erik, right?" The way the girl froze with a look of panic she knew she'd hit the mark. "Relax, child, You know I won't share your secret. These items are empowered."
She performed the spell again and both the pendant and the knife flared yet again. "Woah! I thought I could only figure out how to use and break that shit!"
"Language, dear. I know you're older than you look, but best not to shatter the illusion just yet." She picked up the two items gently.
"Mind if I take these? I'll bring them back. I'd like someone to inspect your work." She turned the items over, looking intently at them.
"Uh, mind if I keep the pendant? I kinda made it for me."
She handed the pentacle back to the girl who clasped the short chain behind her neck. The pendant hung just above her breasts, and looked right somehow. Just to check something she cast the spell on the girl. She was suddenly wreathed in heatless flames entirely, skin and all. The eyes, however, burned blue.
"Woah hey hey hey, no igniting the Jarhead here!"
"Relax, the flames are harmless. I was just testing something. I've only seen two items that showed that kind of flame before." She looked close. The girl's hair looked like it was literally made of black metal filaments. And her eyes. They were like forged steel, with really odd markings.
"Uh yo, Earth Mother? yeah I know you're used to the hairy eyeball but it's kinda uncomfortable from this end."
"Oh, sorry dear. I think I should get going. Be careful Erik."
"Uh, sure."
The confused, and mildly irritated, girl went back, collected her tools and breakfast before going back into her room. Body of a teenager or not, she wasn't a child.
Mrs. Chulkris walked back into the magic department and began preparing her class for the day. She finished the prep work and took the knife and the chunk of silvered crystal and wandered through to the main office and knocked. "Come in."
Circe was a contrast to Mrs. Chulkris' verdant form. She seemed to have an ageless face and a lot of years behind her eyes. She was a striking woman, with Greek features and dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. She looked over at her colleague and smiled.
"Hello. I don't see you walking the halls this early very often. What can I do for you?"
The teacher smirked. "I have a puzzle for you. Some kind of Athame it looks like. I don't recognize the type and it's got a very unique signature."
"Well let's have a look at it."
She examined the blade. "This isn't an Athame. It's similar, but this one is definitely not." A quick word and the whole dagger shimmered and glowed, the etchings blazing white.
"I also came across this. It's the same kind of material in the etching."
Circe picked up the crystalline bit and stared at it. Pieces clicked into place. "I've never seen this stuff in raw, unworked form before." She looked at the dagger and touched the blade to her desktop, the blade sliced a thin line a centimeter deep without pressure. "It's a Harvester. Gods where did you find a Harvester?"
"Harvester?"
"It's used to harvest mystic components safely, and unlike an Athame it can be used to fight without disrupting the energies. There are only a few craftsmen in the world to ever build one of them."
"And the crystal?"
"It's a signature, a byproduct of a true artificer. The last person to actually make and use this substance died just before the fourth crusade. She was executed as a witch when the more hardline members of the church got hold of her."
Mrs. Chulkris winced, but Circe continued. "Don't feel pity, the girl... Well let's just say even death was a mercy for one like her."
"And if I told you that this blade and the bit of crystal slag there were made by a girl on campus? She claims she made it in a day."
"That's not possible. Only a true artificer could make something like this that quickly, and not one of the magic students here. None of them have the knowledge."
"This isn't one of ours. Tall girl, Metallic hair with eyes that look like forged steel with glyphs and markings around the discs of her iris."
Circe went pale, and held her breath a moment. "Which student?"
"I never said student." She frowned at Circe's apparent concern. " I found these when I went to check Erik's wards. She made this, and a pendant she didn't want to part with."
"This is not good." She handed the blade back. "Take that back to Mahren and forget you ever saw it. Or this." She held up the slagged crystal.
"But..."
"Chulkris, believe me when I say if word gets out before we can help her she is fucked."
"But, how?"
"Just do it. And don't tell anyone where that came from. If someone grabs that girl she will become a slave, and there won't be a damned thing we can do to free her except kill her."
Erik walked into the crystal hall at lunch time, her knife now proudly strapped to a thong she'd put together at her hip. She watched the students milling about getting food, and counted heads that she recognized. Thankfully only a few people stared. Most were deeply engaged in eating food and talking loudly to friends. She stopped near the entrance to the staff cafeteria when she saw Amelia Hartford go inside. Nope, not going to go in there. She knew without a doubt that if she had the woman within arm's reach she'd cheerfully strangle the life out of her.
She looked at the chow line dubiously, then back at the door. Hmmm, kid line, kill Hartford, kid line, kill Hartford... Tough decision. Eventually the growling stomach and a lack of desire to start another violent light show won out. She went into line, got a tray and a plate full of food. Most of the girls were getting light stuff, salads and such. Hell no, no rabbit food for me, she thought as she carried the tray full of meat and bread stuff over to an empty table away from the main throng.
She sat, and started picking at the plate, mostly watching the kids. Most of them were just smokin' and jokin' as she and the Gunny called it. Realistically it could have been a scene from a marine chow hall at any given time, except most marines couldn't spray napalm from their fingertips. Not for the lack of trying though. She was so caught up in her reminiscing that she only barely noticed the boy who sat down across from her.
Dark skinned, dreadlocked and a fashion sense that screamed "kill me now" were what she saw when he sat. Erik was no fashion guru herself, but there are some things you just don't wear with a kilt. He had pure solid white eyes, no irises or pupils whatsoever, though his face had a certain humor to it. He dropped a book bag and set down the tray, and cane he'd been walking with.
"Uh, hello?" She asked curiously.
"Oh hi!" he didn't face her when he responded, seemingly staring straight ahead. "New face? Don't see too many people sitting back here in outcast corner." It took her all of two seconds to figure out he was blind. It was a common enough mutation side-effect.
"Outcast corner, huh?"
He grinned. "Yup, welcome to the big OC. My name's Jericho, and you are?" He extended his hand in her direction.
"Not safe to touch." She flicked her wrist, causing a hissing *Zap*. "I got this thing that tends to try to crispy-fry anything I come in contact with pretty much at random. Never mind some serious control issues."
"Ahh, I see. Damn that's some pretty ugly energy there, girl. But, no worries, seen worse. Not like things like that don't happen here at Freaky High." He spoke with such good humor it was impossible to get irritated at his deprecating comments. In fact it was kind of infectious.
"You can see the energy?"
"Not as such. See, I can sense everything going on. a full circle awareness. I can see, or more specifically, sense everyone in the hall here in all directions until I hit a wall or the edge of normal human eyesight. Downside is, my eyeballs ain't what they used to be."
"Huh. Not the craziest thing I've heard. So you on one of the teams here?"
Jericho snickered. "Teams? Nah all that spandex and hero crap ain't for me. I'm part of a band, though you probably wouldn't wanna hang around the other two. They tend to weird out the norms."
"Trust me, norm does not apply in my case."
"I'd hope not, Norm's liable to lose an arm to that knife you got there if he gets too gropey."
Erik laughed, in spite of herself.
"Now that's what I like to hear. Too many long faces walking about thinking the world is on their shoulders around here. Need to cheer up, get some laughs. Life's to short for all that other bullshit."
"That sounds suspiciously like advice I've given to people. Maybe I should take my own medicine."
Jericho grinned. "Best kind. And it even don't taste like shit, unless it's a storm of pun."
"Hmm, best not fire my standard ammo then. It tends to be rather punishing."
"Damn girl, that's evil." Erik wasn't sure he cared to be called 'girl,' but all the physical evidence pointed to it, so she let it pass.
She shrugged "Never claimed to be an angel." she looked up. "Oh Jesus Christ it's Peeper and Greasy again. If they come over here..."
"Not to worry. Peeper won't come near me. I give him the creeps. Threatened to use my psychic powers to tell the world just how small his dinky is."
She just about snorted the glass of water through her nose, and looked at him incredulously. "I like your way better. I just threatened to slaughter him."
"Ah, the voice of radio rage. So that was you that told the little bugger off, and from what I heard, making the pavement disintegrate."
Erik shrugged. "You know me, control issues and a hair-trigger."
The boy smiled. "As a last note on Peepers, I gotta say I wish he'd go pester Hippolyta."
Erik chuckled. "That'd end the problem quick."
"You know Hippie? They putting you in Poe?"
Erik thought very carefully about it before responding. "No, I bumped into her once, or more specifically, bounced off of her." True enough. She'd knocked him over and glared at him like it was his fault while she was still a he. She'd gotten real contrite when she'd figured out he was school staff, but only enough to get out of detention. Her opinions of anyone with a penis were well-known.
"Ouch. Can't imagine that was fun."
"Eh, shit happens. So why you here by yourself? Being here in the OC isn't completely explainable by your wardrobe choices.."
He chuckled. "You mean my 'asylum escapee' ensemble isn't going to win me any friends? Damn. there goes my plan for world conquest."
"Sorry no conquest for you. I plan to destroy it."
"And why would you do that?"
"Well, maybe not the world. Just reality. And because it's something to kill the boredom. I've been plotting since I was eight. All I need now are two white lab mice. One needs to be long and dopey, the other one must be tiny and brilliant."
"NARF! Well sorry. I can't let you destroy reality. It's where I keep all my stuff."
Erik chuckled. "Hey, I haven't even finished my burger and I already have a nemesis! SWEET!"
The both got a laugh out of that. Soon lunch was over and they got up.
"See ya later?"
Erik thought about it. "Maybe. Can't promise. I'm kinda here on a trial basis. See what I can see and all that."
"Well I hope you come. Whateley's a good asylum for folks like us, and we could use one or two more pretty ones like you who don't think they're God's gift to the undeserving masses." With that, the technicolor wardrobe nightmare of a boy walked out of the cafeteria in his kilt, whistling. He never saw that the girl he left back at the table was blushing bright red.
The range was all hustle and bustle when the class started. She noted with annoyance that Wilson was on range control. He wasn't a bad guy, he just was a bit loose with the range safety. She ignored him and walked the line, noting the students' firing positions. A few of them were backsliding, but not much she could do about it, and she didn't want to get Bardue in trouble by doing the old shooting coach thing.
Two members of the Grunts team were there. She picked them out easily enough in their mil-spec digital camo clothing. The two of them, and the other four members of their team were her best shooting students. No surprises there, the grunts team was made up of kids who were enamored with military service. Not the CIA and covert crap that most of the kids got tapped for, but honest-to-god military grunt work. Their code names weren't too imaginative, but they definitely showcased what they could do. Deadeye and Mule were practicing with an M-16A2 rifle and a M-240 Golf machine gun.
Deadeye was definitely the best shot of the lot. His shots were almost universally in the bulls-eye. She didn't bother to score him anymore. He just came in to stay on the sharp edge. He was an odd sight for a kid who wanted to be in the infantry. Tall, skinny as a rail and with a shock of blood-red hair, he looked like a goofy basketball player. His eyes were the weird thing. They were a sickening purple color all the way through, with a horizontal slit pupil that looked more box-like than ovoid. He was using the M-16 like a surgeon uses a scalpel, cutting the targets out of the paper they were marked on. He wasn't showing off, it was the only way he could get a challenge at closer than 1500 meters.
Mule was a classic brick. Big, broad and heavily muscled, he could take a horrendous amount of punishment without flinching. He could also rip tank armor like paper. His eyes looked perfectly normal, and his dark crew-cut made him look like a wall with hair. He couldn't hit shit with a normal rifle. His hands were too big to grip them properly. Give him a belt-fed automatic weapon and he was a genius at suppressive fire. He was currently smearing a target group with short, controlled bursts like she'd taught him.
She saw an open lane, and went to the weapons locker and unlocked it. Students weren't allowed inside, but she had the keys. She wandered over and picked up the MP-5 submachine gun and a couple clips, loaded them, and walked out. Wilson was fucking oblivious. She should leave it unlocked and let the gunny find it. She locked the door and loaded on the way to lane 3, slapping the bolt home with a loud *Clack* and put the carry strap over her shoulder. After she set up targets, she looked over and saw Wilson showing a boy how to get into proper firing position. He'd been oblivious to her deliberate violation of about five range safety rules on the way to the firing lane though. Oh well, another problem for another day, unless he really screwed the pooch. She put in a pair of earplugs and took aim.
She'd set the targets at ten, thirty and fifty meters. The ten-meter one she fired three rounds at the center of the human shaped target. Her sights were off. Wait, she was off. She had to completely re-zero the weapon. She adjusted the sights a bit and fired three more. The recoil was nothing. Odd. there should be more kick. She adjusted the sights once more and the final three rounds made a half-inch group in the center of the target. That's more like it.
She brought up the target and replaced it with a fresh one, sending it to the 20 meter line. Mark. Aim. Fire. rinse, repeat. She put the rest of the clip downrange, putting two shots in each target before moving to the next one. The whole exercise took about six seconds to clear the other twenty-one rounds out of the magazine. She reloaded smoothly without lowering the stock from her shoulder and selected the burst fire mode.
Each pull of the trigger resulted in three bullets spinning downrange at once to tear the target's chest to ribbons. Each target's chest got hit ten times. To an untrained ear it would sound like a machine gun going off, since she took so little time to aim and fire. One burst to a target resulted in some very shredded chest zones. She reloaded and put the bolt home, doing the same to the targets' heads.
"Damn, Deadeye take a look at this shit!" Mule was loud. He could be heard over a hand grenade. This had been proven on numerous occasions. "Check this girl's shots man."
Erik rolled her eyes and turned to look at Mule, clicking the submachine gun on safe as she did so. "Hey, lugnut, volume control. I can hear you over the Barret in lane one!"
Mule managed to look sheepish. "Sorry. I kinda get carried away sometimes."
Deadeye walked over. "Hey who's the new girl? Damn!" He'd seen her targets. Deadeye was one of those rare mutants that wasn't too impressed with himself to recognize good shooting in people without his supernatural coordination.
"Hey, deadbeats, my eyes are up here." Erik knew they wouldn't respond to anything resembling polite conversation. With them it was blunt as hell or the message got lost.
"Sorry." "Yeah, sorry." They were good kids, but Erik wasn't too sure he wanted them ogling his chest.
"Umm, nice shooting." Mule again. He always got tongue-tied with pretty girls, and unfortunately (to Erik) she qualified.
"Thanks. Lemme finish off my last magazine and I'll talk to you, OK?" The boys nodded and Erik tore off the last magazine in exactly the manner she had the last and brought the targets in.
"OK, knuckleheads, come up to the desk so I can take out these earplugs." They weren't used to a girl calling them anything but creepy, so they followed.
Deadeye spoke up first. "Hey where did you learn to shoot like that? Only guys I see able to do that are Corporal Mahren and Gunny Bardue." Great, he wasn't trying to get a date... yet.
"Let's just say I've spent a lot of time on Marine Corps. ranges. Had to prove to the knuckle-draggers that a girl can hang."
They chuckled. "Yeah, Bunker would agree with you there." Bunker was the only girl in the grunts, and she'd fought tooth and nail for their respect from day one. She was short, homely compared to the exemplars and was a crappy shot with a rifle, surprisingly. What she did well was rocket launchers. She'd been the guinea pig gunner for many a gadgeteer before Erik had quashed that. She lived for the days Erik and Bardue broke out the heavy stuff. No one expected the short, cute blonde girl to be such a ferocious user of explosive ordinance. She'd gotten her name by completely annihilating the entire bunker target system that she and Bardue had set up on the range five simulators.
Erik listened with good humor when they described Bunker, then talked shop for an hour while the other kids cleaned up. The boys were animated, since usually the only girl who'd put up with them waxing poetic on the virtues and flaws of myriad firearms, much less be able to intelligently discuss it as well, was Bunker.
When the class ended Erik went a wandering again, this time feeling better. It was always the underdogs and outcasts she hit it off with. She didn't bother walking near the Alphas or the cape squad. She knew well enough that she wouldn't be able to handle high school social politics easily without killing anyone. She wandered aimlessly, trying to avoid the room she was coming to think of as her prison cell.
Erik was wandering past Schuster Hall when Gunny Bardue finally caught her. "Hey kid, busy day?"
The girl shrugged. "Eh, I managed to keep myself occupied. Seems I fit right in around here."
"Good to hear I guess. Look, Carson wants to talk to you. She's been talking to the head finger-wiggler herself."
"Why?"
"I dunno, some mumbo-jumbo shit that she won't explain to me, and Carson's not being much better. But they're making noise about some kinda hokey plan they have."
"Joy."
The pair walked into the office, and Carson and Circe were standing together. They looked over and waved the two into the office. A quick search for listening devices and spells told Erik this was going to be one of those rare "No bullshit" meetings. She looked at Bardue and nodded as he closed the door.
Erik stood, waiting, not bothering to try to end the silence save for the occasional crackle and snap on her skin. the two women were doing the expectant stare thing of the pair of them, and Erik wasn't feeling like playing.
"Why don't you sit, young lady?" It was Circe who spoke first. Erik bristled at the tone, and it must have shown when Bardue backed off a few paces. God bless the Gunny, he was always a bit skittish with the mystic shit. The fact that he was even here in a room with Circe voluntarily spoke volumes.
"I'd rather stand. I like being able to talk eye-to-eye if you don't mind."
Circe nodded and Carson spoke. "Erik... It has come to our attention through Circe here that your mutation may place you in more danger than we originally anticipated. And after speaking to her I tend to agree. We will not be able to continue your employment at Whateley for your safety and that of the students."
"Carson, what the..." Bardue leapt forward to Erik's defense while his protegee looked shocked.
"Wait, Oscar. It's not going to be a railroading and a kick out the door, so please... Be quiet for a moment."
"OK. why am I suddenly in the hot-seat then?" Erik demanded.
"Your mutation. Circe it's your show."
The striking woman stepped forward, holding up a small crystal sphere. "Do you know what this is?"
Erik picked it up and held it, spun it and examined it and the answer came. "Flash globe. Kinda a mystic night light. Kavate." The last word caused the globe to glow with the strength of a light bulb. He tossed it back to Circe.
"Can you tell me how to make one?"
"No I... " She stopped cold, the crystal sphere in his mind as his brain spilled out the exact method for making one, including all of the ritual steps. It was really no more complex than the pendant or knife, and would be a helluva lot easier to make.
"What the hell?"
"How about those items you are wearing. You made them. The Knife is a Harvester, used for collecting components used in mystic artifice. The pendant is a rather potent little magic focus, although you have had no means to use it due to your control issues."
"Um, seemed like a good idea at the time?"
"Then there is the mutation. Metallic hair, and eyes etched with runes, A complete inability to harness and control the energies connected to you, and finally the ability to identify, create and destroy items of artifice by instinct. What would you say if I asked you to make a Stormwatcher Staff?"
Erik thought, mind assailed by arcane instructions and schematics. "I'd say I'd need a damned compelling reason to make you a toy that calls hurricanes and tornados."
Carson spoke again. "Erik there are only a few people in history with mutations identical to yours. Circe and our sources all point to the fact that you are and have a lot of potential, the kind that would prompt certain parties to take you for their own uses."
"They can try." the girl snarled.
Circe stepped forward, "Erik the people who will try to find you will see you as nothing more than a tool, a mystic resource. And if they can get you still long enough to mark you, they will have a perfect, obedient slave."
"Not bloody likely. No one can force me to do shit." Her eyes bugged wide when Circe set a glass jar filled with metallic green fluid and a mithril needle. "Oh HELL no!"
Erik's knife came out, reverse grip, blade backed against her forearm, ready to rip open anything that came near her with that stuff. "Keep that shit away from me," she hissed between clenched teeth. Bardue was right beside her.
"What the hell you playing at, and why's she so god damned scared all of a sudden?"
Circe looked at Gunny. "That there is an ink, that when applied to a certain type of person will bind them, mind, body and soul to become an extension of the creator's will for as long as they live. And certain things, like faeries and demons live a very long time. Erik recognizes it on sight, and given her psychological profile I'm not stepping within five feet of her right now."
"Why did you make it?" Erik was absolutely livid and building up to killing rage rapidly. This time Bardue didn't shy away, but Carson did. Flashes of violent magic were beginning to appear around the room.
"To see if you are what I think you are. And it might give you the key to finding a work around. As long as no one marks your body with that kind of ink you're free, but completely uncontrolled. If they mark you, your powers fully come under control, but you will be a slave. This is the dilemma here. And if you're marked the only freedom is through death."
Bardue edged around and picked up the jar and needle. "I'll just dispose of these."
"No Oscar, you won't" The ageless sorceress said. "Those are for Erik to puzzle out. She is an artificer who can be controlled by another kind of artifice. If she can find out how to work around the compulsion aspects and use them to gain control who are we to deny her?"
"You want me to take it and try to figure out how to fake this shit out? How the hell am I supposed to do that?" The knife stayed in place, but the energy storm was dying as it began.
"I don't know. There are maybe three or four artificers, and not all of them manifest. It takes a rare circumstance to have one in the right place at the right time to absorb enough magic to manifest, and they were always hotly contested when word got out. We're worried that if someone finds out before we can find a solution to the slave dilemma we are going to be in for a very vicious brawl."
"Fucking hell. This is insane. I can probably make more of that stuff easy enough, but I dunno jack about magic. I dunno how this all works, goes together or anything. The only time I ever tried to cast a spell I exploded and grew boobs!" Erik didn't know how the hell to go about this.
"Which brings me back to the original problem," Carson began. "We can't keep Erik Mahren here at Whateley academy without endangering the students, And we can't just set you loose into the world. If we did we might as well be murdering you ourselves."
"So whatcha got up your sleeve Carson? Spill it. All this talk about my Marine is beginning to wear thin."
"Well Oscar, we can't keep him, and we can't release him, so we bury him. We take every record we have of Erik Mahren and bury or burn it. We can make it appear that Erik was black holed at ARC in Black complex. Just getting to that information will be damned near impossible, to say nothing of anyone trying to break in."
She looked at Erik, who was looking about ready to scream. "You, we can hide in the open. We can keep you here at Whateley, as a student for as long as we have to. Anyone searching for one of these so-called artificers will be searching for a hidden, probably terrified girl, not one firmly entrenched and in the open."
"And another thing they won't expect," Circe interjected, "is a girl who can, and undoubtedly will, give them pure, violent hell before being taken. So far as our research has shown, all of the prior artificers were timid, quiet and reserved, and usually desperate for the pain to stop by any means necessary, male or female."
"So me being a complete psychopathic bitch is my best defense?"
"In a word, yes. But save the psychopathic part for those who deserve it."
Carson looked forward. "We need to hammer out a few details. Not the least of which is family history. We need to re-invent your identity from the ground up."
Bardue spoke up. "Family's easy, orphaned child of a KIA marine. Put me down as having been her Godfather, and post-date the adoption papers a year ago. That should clear a few holes about why she's here at Whateley."
Erik stood slack-jawed at Bardue, the old man who was uncomfortable with anything resembling an alternative sexual lifestyle. He looked at her. "Don't look so surprised, you're a good kid. I ain't going to let any shit fall downrange on any of mine, blood or not."
The girl grinned "Thanks boss, or is it Dad?"
"Don't push your luck. We still need to hammer out the paperwork."
Carson pushed a packet toward her. "This is the basic admissions package. Fill it out and return it to me. We'll fill in the blanks. You try to fit in and get to the doctors so we can classify your powers, with appropriate editing by Circe and the Gunny. Whateley takes care of it's own. And Erik?"
"Yes?"
"Try not to kill the doctors. It's too hard trying to find ones willing to work here, much less skilled ones."
"I swear, it's a conspiracy to suck all the fun out of my life."
Erik was settled into Outcast Corner with a full tray of food and a packet of paperwork. Hidden within was her final bit of spiteful revenge, and a way of honoring a friend at the same time. She was engrossed, even though she usually loathed paperwork. She was halfway through the packet when she decided to eat her food before it got too cold. She was busy wolfing down her plate of food when a familiar face plopped into the seat across from her.
"I see I didn't scare you off. I'll have to try harder." The not-so-blind boy chortled. "I guess I didn't creep you out after all."
"Well Jericho, I figured you were trying so hard at it you deserved another go." She smirked over the paperwork.
"Yeah, you're definitely a keeper. So you still hanging about our merry little mayhem factory?"
She held up the paperwork. "Enrollment package. I figure it'd be a good place. At least here I don't need to see what pretty shapes I can twist Humanity first! fuckers into." She let genuine hatred seep into her tone.
"Well good! So you one of the strong and tough types then?"
"Dunno, this is literally a kind of overnight thing and I haven't had a lot of room to experiment. Plus I don't need super strength to snap a beer-bloated pervert racist in two. But I do have a knack for figuring out machines and electronics."
Jericho's grin nearly split his face.
"So you mentioned friends, why they not here with you?"
The boy looked surly. "No offense, but you're what some call the barbie girl package. A few of my friends don't know how to react to pretty girls, and some of 'em have been burned pretty hard. They see pretty girl and just walk away, they don't want to have to put up with sneering or sickened looks while they're trying to eat."
"Sounds like the story of my life."
"New to the beauty queen game then?"
She looked up from her paperwork. "Six days. And I still have a really rough time believing it's me in the mirror. Dammit!"
She put out the small fire that erupted on the page she was writing on.
"I hope that wasn't an important bit there."
She looked. "Nah, just a juvie record. Fortunately I'm clean on that score. So back to the original topic you should have your friends come over. It's not like they all are monsters or something."
"Actually..."
She didn't even bother looking up. "Lemme guess, some of 'em are either ugly or just flat-out inhuman looking?"
He nodded.
"Seen a few around campus, the ones brave enough to go in public. I won't have much pity, lord knows it's the last thing someone needs." She looked up at his crestfallen face. "But I will treat 'em like the human beings they are under all the crap. This pretty face and tight bod? It ain't me, and it drives me nuts that people are going to judge me by it."
"You make yourself sound like a complete dog before with that tone."
"Ohhh yeah, in more ways than you can imagine.." It didn't bear mentioning that marines were oft-referred to as 'Devil Dogs.' "Don't wanna get into it. But my point is, we all gained or lost something. I got metal hair, freaktastic eyes and a body that is probably going to be on a poster if Peepers gets near me with a camera. Plus if I touch someone their arm might randomly explode or rot off."
"Sounds like quite the package. Difference is, you're being honest. Every other time someone said something like that I smelled bullshit a mile out, and I was always right. You actually mean it."
"Yeah, Yeah I do." She didn't feel the need to mention that she had served in the military with the most ornery buncha mixed-race bastards on the planet, and a pair of mutant twins that were constantly mocking the world. She'd dubbed them Heckel and Jeckel, and the name stuck. She learned to live with everyone there, and the mere thought of racism, be it racial or mutant made her want to fight.
"Do me a favor, don't ever change."
"No worries about that. I'm more interested in trying to not self-destruct than getting in with the school booster squad."
"So I never did get your name."
"Oh! Sorry! Caitlin Bardue."
"Nice name. Hey we got a instructor here named Bardue. Old guy, Ex-Marine or something."
"Do tell..."
Upheaval: New Friends, New Problems
By Joe Gunnarson
Wednesday, November 29th
Caitlin woke up, groaning. The dreams had to stop. It was bad enough that she only seemed to be able to get an hour of sleep at a time, but the dreams stretched off into eternity. Always the same, always images of forge and fire, and always those maddening tattoos. She shook her head to clear the images from the last one. She really shouldn't complain, after all the new dreams were better than dreams of screaming terror and gunfire. She got up and picked through her limited wardrobe, grumbling.
She picked out a black T-shirt and blue jeans, all inlaid with those damned wards. Getting dressed wasn't as much of a pain in the ass as it could have been. The bra was easy. She'd removed enough of them from enough women in the past that it was almost intuitive how the damned things worked. It still felt weird to have one on, but she was also acutely aware of the reactions she'd get if her nipples were poking through her shirt. She got dressed and put the ballcap on, grabbed her knife and pendant and wandered outside.
Whateley was dead quiet at three in the morning, per usual. The only light and sound besides the stars was the crackling hiss of the energies that tore across the surface of her body. It still hurt like hell, but she was becoming adept at tuning it out. When she was still male she'd had an insane level of pain tolerance, and all of it was purely psychological. She had no innate resistance to pain, just a remarkably easy time tuning it out as background static. There were occasional flashes of searing agony, but thankfully those were rare.
She began her routine walkabout of the campus, looking satisfied at the complete lack of activity. Even with the change she loved being out when it was dark, the cold night air was thick with the promise of snow, something she actually liked when it didn't come in the typical Alaskan overabundance. Watching roofs collapse under the weight of metric tons of hard-packed snowflakes was not fun. She felt a bit of the cold, but it didn't feel bad at all. Given her attire she should be freezing. She moved into an easy jog, just enjoying the morning, picking her path randomly through the school.
She heard the two men jogging to catch up to her before she saw them, and slowed to a stop to look at them. Two of Chief Delarose's security gumbys were moving up to her at a quick trot. They were lightly armed and armored, and it only took her a moment to realize that she looked like a student out after curfew and lights out. She waited the short moments it took the two men to catch up and nodded to each in turn.
They went from relaxed to at ease when they realized she wasn't going to be a fussy one. "Miss, you shouldn't be out of your cottage past curfew." The shorter one said.
"Hey guys, sorry. Can't sleep. Literally. Besides, I haven't been assigned a cottage yet."
"Can I get your name Miss..."
"Caitlin Bardue." She smirked as the taller one shook his head in disbelief.
"Bardue? Not related to old Gunny Bardue are you?" the tall one asked.
"Yeah. Adopted when my dad bought it overseas. The Gunny was my godfather."
"Ah. Well, sorry about your family, miss, but we have to take you in to see the duty officer." He looked somewhat annoyed at having to play truant officer. "Students aren't allowed loose after hours."
"Ok, fine. I'll talk to him." She sighed. "Lord knows you guys put up with enough shit without me adding to the pot. Just don't touch me, ok? The results aren't usually pleasent and I can't stop it."
The two men nodded and led her to the main security office, flanking her on each side while keeping a respectful distance. She noted the security React force around a table, playing cards, while a the command center crew was looking bored, sipping coffee and staring at empty screens. She recognized Lieutenant Forsyth immediately from her many dealings with him in the past. The man was, by reputation, almost as big a card shark as she was according to some of the security goons she'd dealt with.
"Any problems?" Forsythe asked her escort.
"Not a damn bit of trouble from this one, boss. Cooperated all the way and was kind enough to warn us off of touching her. Something about a bad reaction." The short guy said.
"Yeah, my little lightshow is hazardous to self and others." She snarked just a bit. She was getting tired of that ever-present, snapping, coruscating field of pain
Forsythe looked at her, noted her posture and expression. "Go ahead back to the ready room guys. She's gonna be one of the cooperative ones."
The two men wandered back to the ready room and he turned to her. "Thanks for making this easy for everyone."
"No problem. Gunny Bardue... Guess it's Dad now, said you guys put up with too much bullshit already so I didn't think going for a blood pressure rise would be that great an idea."
"Yeah, I think we all appreciate it. So you're the new student coming in that Gunny's sponsoring?" He saw her nod and relaxed.
"I keep forgetting that normal people get nervous at lone wanderers at Oh-Dark-Stupid in the morning."
"About that. We will have to file it with the school that you were out after hours."
"Somehow I doubt that will be a problem." She noted his look, "And no, I don't mean Gunny... Dad... God this is confusing... Will be trying to pull my fat outta the fire. I only sleep an hour a day, if that. Past that and I'm up and moving and fresh as a daisy."
"So, in other words, you're going stir-crazy staring at four walls for hours on end."
"Yeah, that's about the size of it." She looked around. "I'm used to being able to take care of myself in a pinch. Got to the point where I could wander a military base without having to worry about anything."
"I can understand that. But yeah, you are right, it probably won't matter much. You weren't causing trouble, so the report's a formality. Gives us something to do."
She looked at the monitors and sensor panels. "Damn, and I thought the Pentagon was tricked out."
"Been there?" At her nod he continued. "Yeah, this place is layered. A lot of it is top of the line hardware, plus what the students have built and sold to the school as added precautions. There's not much that can sneak by us, although we had a near miss with some assholes earlier this year."
"Oh god, those Holy G.H.O.S.T. chumps? Yeah, Gunny told me about them a while back. I heard the kids at one of the cottages rolled 'em for their lunch money and then beat the tar out of them."
Forsyth chuckled. "Yeah, that's about the size of it. Poe cottage. Strange kids, but they tend to be harmless, at least they don't deliberately start trouble. Wish they were better at avoiding it though."
"Hey, we're kids. What's the fun of growing up if you can't cause havoc in the process?"
She was slipping into character easily. Looks like all those tabletop and LARP games she'd played off and on for fifteen years were paying off. They chatted for a bit and Forsyth let her go after signing a few papers and she went back to her morning run.
When she finished she hadn't even broken a sweat, which was hardly surprising given the temperature outside, and she felt a bit better, having gotten out and really stretched her legs. She wandered about before heading over to the ranges. The indoor range was locked and empty, so she plugged in her code to the keypad, and went in. The lights came on and she went about setting up Lane three. Two hours, and about three hundred rounds from her personal stash later, she was less than pleased. She'd has to completely relearn her firing stance with the pistol. Her body wasn't built for the same shooting style as Erik Mahren. She cleaned the pistol, policed her brass and locked the door on the way out.
The school was coming awake as she headed towards the main campus area, walking past the center area and had a sense of Deja-vu as she watched the three girls from before practicing their Tai-Chi. All three were graceful in their own way, but it was the slight chinese girl, Chou, who flowed the most. it was obvious that she was the most practiced. The other two had a lot of grace, but it was became apparent that the fiery-haired Fey was the least practiced after a few minutes of observation. She shrugged and began wandering aimlessly, waiting for a bit before heading over to the Crystal hall for food.
She didn't get directly into the line, instead settling back to watch as the students trickled in. She saw the pattern now, that she'd missed during the frenetic hustle of the lunch and dinner times. The groups trickled over to favored areas and ate. Mostly they divided by team, or cottage, and a few tight groups. The GSD kids came in, ate, and left, seemingly in a hurry to get out of sight for the most part. There were a few exceptions, of course, but they were grouped together, as much for protection as company.
The Alphas came in a trickle, but sat together in the best seats in the house. She immediately recognized Aries and Hekate, as well as Don Sebastiano, Skybolt and Cavalier. She paid less attention to the hangers-on. Those five students were the core of the Alphas. They were markedly less animated and condescending than they usually were, but then most of them had that 'just woke up' look to them.
The Grunts came in, being the loudest and most boisterous in the early morning. Deadeye and Bunker were leading the conversation, with Mule, Slapdash, Bomber and Breaker eating and laughing at the other two's wild stories. Caitlin liked the six of them, as they were good kids. They all had aspirations to military service, and while they were hardly the most powerful students on campus, they were some of the most motivated. Bunker was usually they most responsive to the flak other students gave the six of them, and Caitlin had seen the tiny freshman spew streams of invective that would make a drill instructor cringe. Of course the fact that a certain ex-marine Range instructor had taught her how to spit said streams of cussing and verbal abuse never seemed to come up.
She took the time to mark the differences between students, noting how many of them seemed to divide themselves into groups. It seemed to follow no rhyme or reason, but there were patterns that fit in high school. The pretty people gossiping and competing for the best looks. The GSD kids who seemed like they were off in their own world for the most part, and the kids who fit the bill of normal talking and ramping up speed. The social circles, and what held them together became obvious with a little bit of watching.
She finally got into line and got her food, wandering over to Outcast Corner, and saw Jericho there with what looked like the biggest nightmare of a lizard she had ever seen. The Lizard...kid she was forced to remind herself... was big, wiry and covered in yellow and black scales from head to toe. His face was a foot and a half long snout, and he had six spines, three on either side of the top of of his head about three inches long and angling back and out. His back had two rows of eight inch spines that hung at an angle towards the floor, and was sporting a long, thick tail that he had wrapped to the side of the seat. The boy's legs were digitigraded and ended in three thick, bird-like toes. Both the toes and fingers had some wiched looking claws. He was dressed in a simple T-shirt with the Megadeth logo on the front and a pair of shorts.
She shook her head when she realized she was staring and started getting annoyed. This was not the way to prove she wasn't just another daft woman who couldn't see past skin. She walked up to the table, and unceremoniously set her tray down, sitting next to Lizard-boy and looking at Jericho. She nodded to both and looked at the amused grin on Jericho's face.
"What?" She asked, looking across the table at the white-eyed kid.
"Pay up Razor." He chuckled as he pocketed the money that the reptilian kid handed across. "I told you."
"Oh great, I'm now the subject of a betting pool." She looked a bit rueful. "Razor huh?"
The Lizard-boy nodded, impossible to read emotions in his completely inhuman face.
"Yeah. Caitlin, this is Razorback, one of my friends I was talking about before."
"Nice to meet you." She looked the boy straight in the eye and nodded. "I'd shake your hand, but hurting you by accident might make a really bad impression."
The reprillian face made a fast, staccato chirping noise, and his hands moved in the air in an intricate dance that she recognized as sign language. She suddenly wished she knew how to speak it.
"Raz here can't talk. He's mute, except for the odd chirp and growl. That was him laughing by the way. He says he likes you and you smell nice." Jericho watched her reaction carefully.
Caitlin found herself blushing lightly. "Thanks. Those spikes are pretty nifty."
Razorback nodded and turned away and began eating the tray piled high with various meats in front of him.
"Razorback don't talk much, even signing." Jericho started in. "He's more or less fearless, so unless it's a red flag day, he walks around campus like he owns it."
"Good. Nice to see a GSD kid who isn't afraid to stand out in a good way." She looked over at Razorback. He was eyeing her while he ate, eyes spaced just enough apart to give him a wide angle of view without losing binocular vision. She followed his angle of vision and blushed a bit more. The eye looked up and forward as he pretended to be concentrating solely on eating.
"Hah. Busted bro. I told you she was quicker on the draw than most of the other girls here except for maybe Diamond."
Embarassment forgotten Caitlin turned back to Jericho. "Diamond?"
He nodded, a bit ruefully. "Diamondback. Another extreme GSD case, only she's got it somewhat worse than Razor here. She's the most self-conscious one. They got her in Whitman with some bint who is constantly on her case. I've known her since we were able to walk. girl had it rough, me and my family had to hide her for a month from her own folks and their pastor. Getting her to meet new people is like pulling teeth some days."
"Why is that?"
"Mostly personal reasons, but she's been the one caught in a corner and burned the most."
"I'll keep an eye out for her." She picked at her food for a minute and dug in. The table was silent for a few minutes as the three wolfed down their food.
"So what's she look like?"
"Huh?"
"Diamondback. What's she look like?" Caitlin looked him in his white eyes.
"Trust me, with a name like Diamondback, you'll know her if you see her."
Razorback looked up, and signed at Jericho. "Hey we gotta go. Class in a few minutes. See you around? What's your schedule?"
"No schedule yet. I got powers testing here in a few minutes myself. I am not looking forward to this."
"Can't be all bad. We all had to go through it."
"I feel like a damned lab rat."
"And a pretty lab rat too. Tell you what. If we get time me or Razor here'll snag you some food. You'll probably miss lunch and those bums usually forget that some of us need sustenance."
"I appreciate that."
The two boys got up and walked off. Caitlin noted that the crowd parted like the red sea around the two of them, as they left unhampered. Those two would bear some watching.
Caitlin walked towards the powers testing area. This was going to be far from the low-key testing that she had endured with Doctor Bellows before, and she was not looking forward to it. When she stepped in the door Dr. Polland was waiting. She walked up to him and gave a mock-salute. "Student Ma- Bardue reporting for Lab Rat duty, sir." She caught herself before giving her old name.
Dr. Polland smirked. "I see. Apparently the warnings of your personality weren't too exaggerated."
"Well I'd hate to see my reputation ruined by not meeting expectations."
"All right, " he looked at his clipboard, "Caitlin, we've got a full battery set up for you. Dr. Bellows waived the physical examination based on hazards to medical staff."
"Uh, yeah. This trippy lightshow isn't fun." She breathed a silent sigh of relief, the thought of a gynecological exam gave her the willies.
"Well, if you'll follow me this way we'll get your blood drawn. and sent in for testing."
She followed the doc to a room and after some wrangling, got the nurse to let her do the blood draw herself. The nurse had been convinced when she picked up some tissue paper and shook her hand rapidly. The discharge caused the flimsy materiel to blacken and run in rivulets down her arm like some kind of bizarre ink. She got her arm cleaned and went about doing everything the docs back in the corps had taught her about I.V's and needles, cursing when the steel needle sheared and snapped just under her skin.
It took four tries and three needles before the nurse handed her one of the more sturdy variety. The blood was drawn quickly, and she hopped out of the room to follow the doc to the first area. Strength and endurance testing. Wonderful.
The first test was easy. She was set to lift increasing weights until she couldn't lift one, then she was given a rest for a few minutes, then set to it again. The cramping buildup from the increasing weight was typical, but the results were not. She easily hefted the four-hundred pound weight, and was able to work up to just over eleven hundred pounds with effort, and 1200 pounds being her absolute maximum. The process was impeded by weird things happening to the weights. Changing to different alloys, cracking and falling apart, transforming into odd shapes, and the most memorable, superheating and melting. Her arms were covered in molten metal to her elbows before the panicked girl and the medical staff were able to scrape the rapidly cooling materiel off her skin.
A few panicked moments later and she was staring at her unmarred skin incredulously. The heat had hurt like hell, but not the maddening pain she had expected. She looked at the many ruined weights with a sick feeling, suddenly very thankful for the super-pagan looking clothing she was wearing.
The endurance test held a few surprises. The doctors exposed her to rapidly elevating levels of heat, cold, electricity, and other phenomena until she couldn't take it. The heat and cold she endured without complaint or really noticing, until they started getting past the temperatures that would melt industrial grade steel, when she started hollering at them to turn the damned thing off. Open flames didn't even bother her. The cold started becoming too much once the room they had her sit in reached below -100 degrees Farenheit. She had no resistance to anything kinetic, beyond an extremely toughened musculature and bones, so she wasn't bulletproof, although knives and bladed objects would have a much rougher time penetrating deep enough to do real damage.
She was amazed by the amount of raw physical strength and stamina she had. It was like discovering muscles you never realized you had. She pushed herself for the testing, and they found that she was extremely resistant to most natural phenomena that could cause serious injury. Drugs worked just fine on her, but electricity only tickled a bit, even when they amped up the generators. The static charge she built up from that caused several computers to blow out when she got close.
Reflex testing was pure torture. There was a lot of "Dodgeball from hell." She was able to duck, dive and weave extremely quickly, for a normal person, but her reflexes were perfectly in line with what she could do before her world went completely upside-down. Running she was able to do a six-minute mile at an easy run, topping out around sixteen miles an hour at a dead run, still within the normal range of a well-trained and conditioned human. Again, this was pretty much the same as when she had been a man. The two phases of testing didn't really hurt at all but it was frustrating as the docs ramped up the difficulties to just beyond where she could perform effectively.
A side effect of this was the discovery that her energy corona built up in intensity the faster she moved to the point where at a full run she was completely surrounded by a hissing corona of energy that burned like fire. As she slowed down, it faded to a trickle, and when she remained perfectly motionless for a few seconds it died down completely and did not return until she moved again.
The rest of the morning was more or less as expected. Besides the odd currents that she could see, she didn't really show any aptitude for any other types of powers. Doctor Powell was waiting for her on the way out.
"Well we've done about all we can here. Circe wants you over in the Magic department for the rest of your testing. We're going to tag you as an Exemplar 4 for now, along with an Esper 2 given we're not sure what to make of those currents you're seeing constantly, and an Energizer 2. Nothing horribly huge by Whateley standards, but it's a good base to build on."
"Yay. off to Oz with me. Anything else? Bellows said something was off on my bloodwork before I changed."
"Ah, yes, well your blood has a massive mineral content in it. We're not exactly sure why. From all indications you're eating normally for a healthy pair of twenty-five year old men. That doesn't explain the odd composition, or the fact that when it solidified it formed some kind of blood colored metallic alloy. The lab rats are still trying to pick it apart."
"Oh goody. Well at least if I ever need to spot-weld something I can do it by slitting my wrist."
"Actually, you might be able to do just that."
"So what's with the hair? Why's it all shiny?"
"So far as we can tell your hair's normal with some metallic traits, although it's a lot stronger than normal. You could probably use it as high-test fishing line if you were of a mind."
"Jesus can my life get any more weird?"
"Well, since you're being slated to start classes this week, my best guess would be yes."
"Gee, thanks Doc. I feel so much better now." She walked away while Polland chuckled, went into his office and took the cross-file for Erik Mahren and ran it through the shredder and burned the remains, per Carson's orders.
Circe was in her office when Caitlin wandered in, half-heartedly. The sorceress looked up and smiled slightly.
"Hello Erik, or is it Caitlin now?"
Caitlin looked over at the sorceress for a moment. "Caitlin. I figure I'd best get used to my new circumstances. Hiding from it isn't going to make it go away."
Circe nodded and looked at her, motioning to a seat directly across from her desk. "I'm glad to see that you're holding together so well. I can only imagine what you're going through, and it takes a lot of courage to face what you're going through."
Caitlin sat down, looking at the woman quietly. "Why do I get the feeling that this isn't going to be the frantic testing bum rush that the docs rammed me through?"
"It won't be, mostly because rushing blindly with magic is a sure route to disaster. It's also because I wanted to have a chance to get a good read on you as well." She leaned back in her seat easily. "I know that out at the ranges you all dismiss my department as a bunch of gibberish-spouting finger-wigglers, and for the most part it's not far off the mark. But I'm more concerned with you. You've gone from a healthy and fit man with a strong will to a fairly young woman with no real identity of her own and some massive problems. I'm fairly sure that almost anyone who didn't have a personality like yours would have a total breakdown given the same circumstances."
"It's not easy. I want to just be invisible half the time. Male, female, I never put much stock in form defining the person. Unfortunately it isn't that way with most people, I'm still having issues with feeling completely off, and I'm just not comfortable with how people look at me now." The young woman took a deep breath. "I don't know. Ever since Cat died I've been a bit off anyway. I started drinking and burying myself in work. I wasn't even able to say goodbye." The last was hardly more than a whisper.
Circe nodded. "I think Cat would have approved of you taking her name. She was a strong woman, I liked her a lot, as a teacher and coworker. I'm sorry you weren't able to be at the memorial, but there are many ways to say goodbye. I know you'll find one."
"It's hard. We had plans. We were going to get married next year on the solstice back home. We..." Caitlin stopped, biting back tears that came anyway. "I'm just not ready to let her go."
"You saw her die, didn't you." It was more a statement than a question, and the girl saw sympathy in the older woman's eyes. She only nodded.
"I saw it. I saw what she did. SheThrew out everything she had for the school, and she died. I couldn't help her. I couldn't catch her. I couldn't even be there when she fell. She charged the attackers, she burned them, fought them, and she died. All the while all I could do was shoot and fight. I couldn't even find her body. I never saw her after that."
She broke off, actually crying as the memories and feelings cracked through the mental barriers and came out, full force. She didn't care, she just cried.
Circe moved over and took the young woman's hand gently and crouched by her. The wracking sobs just continued on for a good long while, punctuated by crackling energy whenever her body shook. The tears fell like falling stars, some Ice, some glass, some as pure light. She didn't interrupt the girl. Former man or not, sometimes people needed to cry to get it out of their system.
After a long time, the girl recovered, looking up at the woman kneeling beside her. She instinctively threw herself over Circe and sobbed quietly in the woman's arms.
"You're a strong individual, but everyone has to let go sooner or later. I honestly wish she could be here with you right now." Circe helped the taller girl to her feet easily. "But for now, the time to mourn is best left behind. You need to look forward, and begin living again."
Caitlin nodded, wiping the tears from her eyes, and whispered out, "Thanks."
Circe nodded and smiled. "You're lucky you can pull off the natural look. Most of us would spend the next hour having to fix our makeup."
The young woman laughed in spite of herself.
"Feel better?"
"A bit, yeah."
"Good. Don't let anyone try to tell you that you shouldn't cry. No one is invulnerable, even to emotion."
Caitlin nodded and wiped her face off. She looked at Circe quizzically a bit. "Hey, how come nothing happened to you when you touched me? Everyone else got burned!"
"One of the advantages of being a 'gibberish-spewing finger-wiggler.' A bit of loose magic is easy enough for me to counter, even unconsciously."
They had a bit of a laugh at that. Caitlin stretched a bit. She honestly did feel better. It was like a large weight had been pulled off her shoulders.
"Boy am I glad Gunny didn't see that."
"I don't think Oscar would have blamed you. He loved Cat like a daughter. And you were the pasty faced boy coming along to run off with his baby girl."
"Yeah, that sounds about right." She composed herself. "So what say we get this show on the road? I'm starting to like you, but I'd like to get dinner tonight without running off-campus to the taco bell."
Circe nodded and led her downstairs into an empty classroom, avoiding the press of students coming and going between periods.
"So. I really can't properly test you until we get your talents under control. Have you looked at that ink I gave you?"
"Yeah. I figured out what it's made from, and how to make it, but I'm missing something. It's a part of me, a sacrifice of some kind, symbolically if I was to make a batch of my own. It's not something you can make for someone."
Circe nodded. "For me, I had to infuse it with magic. It's been a part of my life for so long that it is literally a part of who I am. For you it will not be so easy. Each person's is unique. Unfortunately I have not found a way around the soul-binding aspects."
"Is it possible to bind something to itself?"
"Yes, although it is a lot harder. Magic responds not to what you want it to do, but what you will it to do. Sometimes it takes a greater sacrifice in order to accomplish something. After all, the energy does not come from nowhere."
Caitlin nodded. "So all that finger wiggling and latin..."
"Some words have power, but they aren't necessary. The words and motions are mostly a mnemonic trigger, meant to help focus your will into action."
"Like a running cadence."
Circe nodded. "Yes. Very much so. Bardue may not admit it, but the military could give some very good lessons on focus and control that many would-be mages lack. You have a natural connection to it. Unfortunately that connection is a little too sticky. When it tears away from you, unguided by will it simply manifests of it's own accord. For some, these manifestations are harmless, or merely aggravating, like the hobgoblins of one of the newer girls, Fey."
"Met her. She seems like a good kid. Just... a bit confused at how to react sometimes."
"You'd be right. Unfortunately your manifestations are not nearly so benign. When you move against the flow, the connection you have catches any stray bits and tries to hold them, but fails, causing that corona. Quite frankly if it weren't for your new stamina and toughness, we wouldn't be having this conversation."
"Yeah, I'm getting tired of looking at wards though. I appreciate the clothes, but I think I need to puzzle this out, and quick for my own sanity, and for the safety of the kids here at whateley."
"I would tend to agree. I'm beginning to see why Bardue hired you, Caitlin."
"My dashing good looks and ability to one-up him in a shouting match?"
Circe chuckled. "That may have contributed, but it's you, why you fit so well with the military ideal. You put others before yourself. That's the most common comment I hear from your coworkers since I started asking. Right after that would be 'smarmy bastard' and 'card shark.'"
"That's what I love about my friends. They love me so much."
"Well. Let's get to work. All the materials save one are in this room. The process usally takes about six hours of ritual, but, if you are what I think you are, you'll probably finish much more quickly with far less hassle."
Caitlin nodded and began working. All told it took three hours to mix and match the processes and the components, but in the end she had a clear jar of fluid with a slightly murky tint. She drew her knife and drew it across the palm of her hand, hissing, and allowed three drops, no more, no less to fall into the mixture. The fluid darkened then began shifting, turning a deep, cobalt blue color. She bandaged her hand and looked up.
"Safe stopping point. This is where I need to figure out what the last part is."
Circe nodded. "I would never have believed it if I had not seen it myself. You really are one of the artificers."
"What does that mean, exactly, beyond being really strong, really tough and being able to make weird items?"
"The artificers are also natural magic users. Each one has a form of magic that they take to naturally, depending on who they were before they were marked. It has a lot to do with personality and mindset. Given your personality and adaptability I'd guess that spells geared towards prevention of harm, and transmutation would be your natural inclination."
"How can you tell all that?"
Circe smiled. "I've been at this for a very long time, dear. I've had lots of practice."
Caitlin considered. "You've met one of the artificers before, haven't you?"
"Met isn't the word. What I saw wasn't a person anymore. She had become an extension of her master's will. Nothing more."
"So how can we be sure that even if I pull off making my own mix it won't turn me into a zombie?"
"I can't be sure, but it binds the servant to the master's will. Your will has always been that of loyalty and fierce independance. I don't think any magic you ever undertake will allow for anyone, much less yourself, to become enslaved by it. As I said, the Will shapes the flow. What you think is more or less irrelevant at that point."
The girl considered and nodded. "It's a risk I gotta take. I'm not gonna give some jackass the chance to make the choice for me."
Circe nodded yet again. "Sometimes the courage to drive forward is all it takes to find one's road."
Caitlin picked up the mithril needle and scowled. "This needs a bit of a modern touch. This pricking the needle and umpteen hours of work thing has gotta go."
"It's the way things have been done for thousands of years."
"Just because something has been one way for a thousand years doesn't mean there's not a better way."
"Just so. Now get going. I'll expect you in my office tomorrow afternoon. I will be your class advisor for the forseeable future."
"Cool!" Caitlin smiled, picked up the needle and jar of blue ink and walked out the door.
Circe watched her leave with a slight smile.
She made it to the Crystal Hall just as the first few students got into line for food. She'd stashed her jar of the ink with Circe's along with the two needles she had. She'd been careful to keep the needles separate, as one was becoming bound to her, the other to the school's magic department head. She also didn't want to lose them. From what little she knew, actual moonsilver was hella expensive, and she wasn't gonna risk losing the valuable items.
She sat down, and began eating, tossing the puzzle over in her head, quietly as she chewed her food. A piece of herself, a symbolic sacrifice. She couldn't think of anything, off the top of her head that actually defined who she was, or who she had been before. She couldn't stuff Range two in a bottle and shake it up. Not that that place really defined her.
Her thoughts were interrupted when she saw Jericho and Razorback walking up to the table, followed by a girl that actually made her stop cold.
This must be Diamondback. the girl was tall, and athletic looking at first glance, wearing a red T-shirt and black skirt that reached down about two feet, pleated and hanging loosely. Her long, reddish, deep brown hair hung loosely down to her waistline, her bangs obscuring her face. Her body was scaled, similar to to Razorback, but different in a way. The undersides of her arms and her front were flesh-colored, but deepened into rich greens and blacks along the outsides of her body and back, forming Diamond shaped patterns. Her legs didn't exist, and Caitlin saw a thick, powerful looking serpentine tail trailing from the bottom of her dress to a point well about thirteen feet behind her.
The girl was slithering like a snake along the cafeteria floor and was garnering her fair share of horrified and disgusted looks from the crowd. The trio reached the table as Caitlin forced the shocked look from her face, remebering that she'd seen worse. Not by much, so far as GSD cases went, but she'd seen worse. She'd gotten a good look at the girl's face as she sat down. Tiny scales covered it, and went from a pale, flesh tone to the deep green of her backside and tail. The face was long, with high cheekbones, and small chin. Besides the scales and tail bit under any other circumstances the girl would have been considered gorgeous.
Caitlin waited until everyone sat before speaking, beating Jericho to the punch as the new girl and razorback began eating from the heaping plates of meat they had in front of them.
"Hello, Diamondback, right?" She looked at the girl for a moment, and was rewarded with a silent nod. "Nice to meet you. I'm Caitlin. I'd offer to shake hands but I'm not sure it'd be safe for you."
Diamonsback looked up skeptically and flinched as Caitlin flicked her wrist, causing a flash of sickly green energy to erupt. "Happens whenever I move, pretty much randomly, and people have gotten hurt touching me in the past week."
She felt the stares on her, and Caitlin realized both boys were watching the little interaction. She glared at them and they began eating furiously, as if their plates had suddenly developed gold deposits.
"Look Diamond, I know you probably don't buy it from me right now, but I'd like to be friends. I already like these two knotheads. No strings, no promises. Just give me a chance, alright?"
"Okay." the serpent-girl nodded and began ripping into her tray with gusto, and Caitlin sat quietly, eating from her food, thinking.
Caitlin looked at Jericho, who was smirking, and Razorback, who was unreadable. "So you two have fun today?"
"A bit. Been going through the usual daily grind." Jericho was busy stuffing his face, so Caitlin decided now was as good a time as any to polish off the prodigious amount of food she had to eat. It wasn't all that much to her, she'd eaten this much on a regular basis as Erik. It just seemed that her appetite was bigger because of her size.
"What happened to your hand" Caitlin looked up when she realized Diamond had spoken.
"Session with Circe. Had to use blood to seal something."
"I thought blood magic was dangerous."
"You in the classes?"
"Yeah, I have Introduction to Magic theory, and magic lab With Earth Mother and Circe, respectively."
"I dunno about the blood magic bit. Circe thinks I've got a knack for some things. She supervised the blood bit. It was kinda necessary.
"How much can you do?"
"Nada. I catch and pop magic, it's sticky and snaps like a rubber band on me. I can see it, feel it, but can't do anything except cause random havoc with it."
"So why all the wards?" Diamondback was working up at a rapid pace, talking about something she obviously loved.
"It keeps me from becoming a mystic firebomb. Like I said, I'm a bit dangerous to touch. You do not want to see the kind of crazy, violent stuff that happens when I get mad or aren't wearing the wards." Caitlin pushed the empty tray away from her.
"I don't think I've ever heard of that before."
Caitlin chuckled. "Yeah, story of my life. So what about you, you another natural mystic?"
Diamond shook her head. "No. I'm learning it because I want to. I like learning about magic. I'm Wiccan, despite what my folks would say."
"Hey it takes all types, right? Hell, I just got thrown to the wolves about a week ago. Don't even recognize myself in a mirror."
"You're lucky. You're pretty."
"So're you, actually, just not in the way any of the fools here are gonna look close enough to see, and you have a really pretty voice. you sing at all?"
Caitling considered the shocked look, and open mouth and saw that the girl wasn't expecting to hear that. She also noticed that the girl's tongue was forked, while she sat slack-jawwed, and she had some really nasty looking inch-long fangs.
"You don't have to be nice to make me feel better." Diamondback sounded sullen.
"I have been accused of many things. Being 'nice' was never one of them." She shrugged. "I just call it as I see it. And I see a pretty young woman who's a bit different and hella shy because too many jackasses decided to burn her."
Diamondback cocked her head. "How do you figure that?"
Caitlin snorted. "You kidding? All the kids with GSD around here seem to walk on eggshells around the damned pretties. Well, except for you three so far. And the others who don't tend toward the other extreme. Like that Bloodwolf mook."
Caitlin pointed to herself. "This? This ain't me. Maybe in a few years I'll get used to it, but for now I'm just trying to cope. Sounds pathetic, don't it? I'm just not used to the attention, and I feel all wrong."
"At least you don't look like a monster."
"Meh, give me time. I haven't finished changing I don't think. If I do wind up looking like a monster that's not gonna stop me from being me. And if someone tried to tell me otherwise I'd be liable to hurt them." Caitlin looked Diamondback in the eye, noting the reptilian slits in the ice-blue irises. "Form doesn't define who I am. It just changes the playing field."
The serpentine girl looked thoughtful. "Maybe. Can we talk about something else? GSD always depresses me."
"Sure. We can talk about how the two boys are being absolutely silent and still in the blind hope that we won't notice that they're done eating and listening to us."
Both girls turned and stared at Jericho and Razorback almost in complete, slow synchronization. Their stares were expectant and a little miffed that they were having an audience. Jericho winced and Razorback signed something to him.
"Yeah I hate it when women do that, too." He was slightly smirking. "A little backup here Razor?"
The lizardman shook his head and darted off, not wanting any part of the typical, inexplicable, female behavior. Jericho found that he agreed, and backed out and followed his buddy out the door.
Both girls busted out laughing at the same time.
"Oh my god, I've wanted to do that to them for months!" Diamondback chortled.
"Heh, now I know how other girls do that. I'll have to remember that trick." Caitlin grinned evilly. "So I take it those two are always in cahoots?"
"Oh yeah, and Jericho's the ringleader. He has this kooky band thing that the two of them want to get together. They both play guitars."
"So at minimum they need a drummer and a singer?"
Diamondback smirked. "Drummer at the minimum. They keep trying to con me into singing with their little band thing."
Caitlin shrugged. "So why don't you?"
"I don't think I could handle performing in front of a crowd."
"Yeah, I hear you. So what say we hit the store and get some coffee before we head back to our respective prison cells?"
"Uh... sure?"
"Come on. You need to get out and have some fun, I can tell." Caitlin smiled. "Oh, yeah, one thing." She reached over with a pencil and pushed Diamondback's hair away from the front of her face. "You have a pretty face. You shouldn't hide it."
"But what about the people who call me a monster?"
Caitlin just grinned. "Fuck 'em. If they mouth off too bad I'll pound on them, and I imagine that tail of yours can do a number on someone in a fight."
"You make it sound so easy."
"It is. Me and my friends proved it back home. Most girls catfight, I just smash. Works a lot better, too."
"Ok."
The two girls went out and picked up coffee at the small shop on campus. With a little gentle encouragement Caitlin was able to keep Diamondback from slouching, or hiding her face with her hair. A few students started to make a comment in the snake-girl's general direction when they were fixed with Caitlin's homicidal glare. The two of them went over to the benches near the crystal hall, and sat down, Diamond coiling her lower body under her to avoid getting tripper over, or stepped on.
"So you said you were studying magic," Caitlin said, "able to throw fireballs or anything yet?"
Diamond looked thoughtful. "No. I'm only able to do a few minor illusions, and some healing spells. I understand the theories, and formulae well enough, but it's hard. It'll take years and years of study and practice before I'm anywhere near a fraction as good as someone like Circe."
"Illusions and healing? Not a bad starting point though." Caitlin pondered. "Can you see the currents?"
"Currents?"
"Yeah, I see currents under everything, and feel them too. I just can't do anything besides having them stick and snap."
"Oh! No, I can see resonances if I concentrate. I've known that some people are good enough to see magic as lines or waves. I haven't gotten to the point of much more than feeling it and seeing what kind of magic something resaonates." Diamondback was animated as she talked, idly flicking stray hairs out of her face.
"Resonance, huh?" Caitlin looked at her. "Care to take a look at a couple things? I'd like to get your opinion. I've heard a bunch of other peoples' takes, but I'm always interested in other pieces of the puzzle."
"Sure." Her eyes widened as Caitlin passed over the Knife. "Holy crap!"
"What?"
"This thing almost hums. It's pulsing with energy, small amounts, but strong." She turned it over. "Hardened, sharp, I get a resonance of... collecting? No that can't be right."
"From what I was told by Mrs. Chulkris, that's more or less dead on." Caitlin picked up the knife gingerly and settled it back in it's sheath.
"That's the weirdest Athame I have ever seen." She went on to explain how an athame is a ritual knife used in magical ceremonies and used to harvest and cut certain herbal items.
Caitlin nodded. "Sounds about right. This one's a bit unique."
"I can see that. The wards on your clothes have a resonance of suppression, your body whenever you're flashing is chaotic. unrestrained, painful?" Diamondback looked Caitlin in the eye. "It hurts?"
"Yeah. Hurts quite a bit. I just usually tune it out. Sometimes it gets pretty bad though."
"Ouch." She looked at Caitlin's neck. "Focusing medallion?"
"Sorta. I dunno what the hell I'm supposed to focus. Maybe I can learn something when I start magic classes."
"You're definitely gonna start on magic?" Diamondback looked hopeful.
"Circe is my Advisor. I go to her to work out a class schedule tomorrow."
Diamondback grinned "She is really something else, huh? Mrs. Chulkris is my advisor. She was happy that someone who isn't a natural mage is willing to put in the time to learn the hard way."
Caitlin thought about that. "Makes sense. I've noticed that folks who work harder toward an end tend to do better than people who start out able to play the game."
Diamondback nodded. "I hope so. At least I'm learning not to take these things for granted." She looked up. "Hey I need to get back to my room. Got studying to do, you know. I'll see you around later?"
Caitlin rose and nodded. "Sure. I'll be around. Catch you later Diamondback."
"Sandra." The snake girl smiled slightly. "Call me Sandra."
"All right Sandra. Have a good one, and don't let anyone give you any shit."
Sandra nodded and slithered off in the direction of Whitman.
Caitlin smiled and walked back up towards her room to work on the puzzle of the Ink she had made.
Caitlin entered the room to a welcome sight. Apparently someone had gone through her apartment and cleaned it out, transferring all of her stuff to her room out in the storage building. She grinned and moved the desk to the wall, where someone had helpfully installed a cable connection. She pulled out all her stuff and began arranging it around the room, thankful that the combined strength of the wards on the walls and her clothes kept her mystic backlash in check.
A few hours later and the place almost looked like someone lived there, rather than a demonic containment unit. She set up her desktop and work laptop on the desk and booted them up, hooking up to the school internet connection. She smirked as she saw her desktop backgroud come up. It was a picture of two of his old buddies from back in the corps. Heckel and Jeckel, the mutant twins from hell. They were both low-key, exemplar 1's who had the most twisted senses of humor she had ever come across. She almost came close on a good day.
After she finished setting up, she went about studying the two ink containers. The fluids inside were more or less the same except the color, a byproduct of the maker's personality. The green one just screamed power and magic, and she realized that was probably that resonance thing that Diamondback, Sandra, had talked about. The other was difinitely herself, but missing something. Empty.
She poked at the problem, going through all of her stuff, and seeing if anything screamed ME! Uniforms, old records on paper, Cd's everything came up blank. The electronics crap she dismissed immediately as unimportant. The rest of it, seemed to resonate with the past, something she dearly wanted to hold onto. She wasn't Erik Mahren, the rough and ready Marine anymore, but she definitely didn't want to forget or lose that part of her.
Her attention went back to the two needles that awaited use. Both of them reeked of unused potential. Mithril implements were expensive for a reason. She imagined sitting for painstaking hours, even days while those needles were used to inscribe the complex designs that would be necessary. There was no proscribed pattern, each design would be distinctively of the maker's own, an expression of their soul.
"Screw this. I need a tattoo gun." She muttered as the sun came up again, having not gotten any sleep and feeling fine despite the lack. "This stupid ritual shit needs the modern touch.
She walked out and went over to the art department, and talked to the teachers theree, procuring a tattoo gun from them. God I love Whateley, she thought, we have everything here. She took the gun back and looked at the device, comparing the needle, and smiled. She knew what to do.
Thursday, November 30th
She was going to be late to her appointment. Most of the students, tough or not, knew that one did not stand in the way of someone running full-bore through the campus while blazing with energy across their bodies. She had a clear path to the magic department, stopping long enough for the corona to die down. Normally she wouldn't give a hairy rat's ass about being late to anyone's office save Gunny Bardue's, but she found herself liking Circe.
Circe was in her office smirking as she entered. "Running a little behind, Caitlin?"
She grinned. "Yeah, sorry. I had to finish up a project before I came."
"Project?"
Caitlin reached into her wallet and pulled out a thin silver needle, significantly different than the one Circe gave her. "Yeah, It was one of those 'can't leave it if I want it to work' deals."
Circe inspected the needle. It was significantly shorter than the one she'd given Caitlin, with a hollowed out core, but the Mithril construction was unmistakeable.
"I had enough to make both sets I'll need."
"You changed the needle?" Circe looked somewhat surprised.
"Yeah, I got to thinking there had to be a better way than the dip, prick, dip, prick method of tattooing. I was able to change the needle without altering it's attunement."
"Very nice. I hope you know what you're doing."
"Not a clue, but it kinda came to me."
Circe shook her head. "All right. Down to business. I know you've already graduated High School so we can skip the core requirements. I took the liberty of checking your transcripts from High school before Carson had Hartford burn them. Your grades were atrocious."
Caitlin looked sheepish. "I passed didn't I?"
"Caitlin, a 2.3 GPA is hardly adequate, especially given how intelligent you are."
"Yeah, well. I kinda skipped the homework and aced every test the teachers tossed at me." She looked to the sky. "I got bored too easy. Most of High School was spent going over shit I'd already learned."
"So you'd prefer a challenging class schedule?" Circe smirked slightly.
"In a word, YES!" Caitlin looked at her. "Even if I get this magic thing under control I have no identity except as a sixteen year old girl. I can't just walk away from school at this point, because I have no diploma, and I sure as hell am NOT going to settle for a GED. Those things are worth about as much as toilet paper, and the toilet paper is actually useful." She settled back. "I figure if I have to put up with High School I'd rather have classes that didn't leave me yawning at the end of the day."
"Be careful what you wish for." Circe began typing on her computer. "All right, We'll settle you into Introduction to Magic theory, and Magic Lab. Mrs. Chulkris teaches the first, I teach the second. Any preferences on self-defense classes?"
"I think I should start with the basics. Yeah I can fight just fine, but I'm gonna need to learn how to move all over again. The range has already showed me my points are off."
"I think Sensei-Ito and Sensei-Tolman would appreciate that sentiment, but you'll likely give them a headache if your fighing style is anything like Oscar's.
"Where do you think I learned all my dirty tricks?"
"We'll round out this semester with Basic Rifle Combat, Powers Lab and Physics. Rifle combat won't be much challenge, but I know how you and Gunny are about staying sharp. And I don't know any teachers here at Whateley who haven't read all the powers theory books half a dozen times each, mutant or not."
Caitlin nodded. "So am I officially on a scholarship for this then? And yeah. I've read all the powers theory stuff till my ears started bleeding."
"Yes, the details were arranged by Carson, since even though he signed on as your 'adopted parent' Gunny Bardue doesn't need to foot your bills. That means a job here on campus."
"Yay. How about Range Assist? I know we're short two teachers there, and while Wilson's good at what he does, he's better at teaching the basics. Not so hot on the safety thing."
"I'll look into it. How are you going to explain your expertise?"
"Orphaned child of a single, marine father. I was hanging out with the leathernecks since I got out of diapers. Daddy couldn't afford Day care, so arrangements were made to allow me to go with him into the field and to the ranges. Been shooting since I was eight, total tomboy." Caitlin waited for the verdict.
"Given this some thought have we?"
"Not much else to do besides trying to puzzle out that ink crap. The closest thing that I can think of would be blood, but that's me now. Not me, from before."
Circe nodded. "If I had thought of that earlier I would have had Bellows save your blood samples. But for now, anything else?"
"Yeah. If you can I'd like to take classes for the magic stuff and self-defense with Diamondback."
Circe raised an eyebrow. "Any particular reason?"
"She's a good young lady who could probably use a friend besides Jericho and Silent Bob going to some of her classes. The girl needs to come out of her shell."
Circe nodded. "Good enough. Besides, she might be able to help you catch up easier. The girl hides it well, but she's smarter than almost anyone on the campus."
"Why does this fact fail to surprise me?"
"It's always the quiet ones you have to watch for. Now get going. I have to get ready for my next class." She handed Caitlin the printed schedule and shooed her out of the office.
Caitlin nodded in thanks and went out the door.
Caitlin looked at the schedule Circe had printed out for her on the way to the Crystal Hall. First period was Aikido with Sensei-Ito, then Powers Thory, and Intro to Magic theory. Lunch, of course, Magic Lab, followed by physics and Basic rifle combat rounding out the day. Not bad, she'd likely need to unwind at the end of the day and range time was perfect for that kind of thing.
She looked at her class equipment list. Lots of stuff. Time for another trip to the store, but that could happen after lunch. She was feeling acutely hungry, something she was getting used to. Before, she'd been able to go for weeks on one middling meal a day. Now she got hungry as hell quite a bit more. More shit to adapt to. Dr. Polland had said something in passing about a highly accelerated metabolism.
Sandra and Razorback were absent when she arrived, but Jericho was in attendance, scarfing his food as only a teenage boy could. She dropped into the seat across from him and dug in. When she finished she looked at him. He seemed concerned. "Hey, Jericho, what's eating you?"
"Sorry Caitlin, just thinking. Word on the grapevine is that two of the guys from Diamond's self-defense class are planning something 'special' for her tonight. Apparently she beat their asses but good and they're looking for a bit of payback."
"Wait, Sandra clobbered two people?"
Jericho looked up, mildly surprised that she used the snake-girl's real name. "Yeah. She's all shy and quiet in public, but Ito's class lets her take out all her pent-up pissed-off. She's a nice girl, but her and Razorback are both people you do not want to corner. Both of 'em got reflexes from hell and Sandra's bite is poisonous. She's a spitter too.
"Ouch. So what, these monkeys planning, just to embarass her, or to hurt her?"
"Willie and Necro are both wannabe ultraviolents. They want in with Bloodwolf and his crew, so it's not gonna stop at embarassing."
Caitlin got a nasty look. "Wonderful. More good news. I'm not even in classes and I'm already gonna get into a fight."
"You don't have to Caitlin. Me and Razorback are gonna be there, and we already set out the word with security." Jericho said evenly.
"Nope, nothing doing. Sorry Jericho, but I do believe I'm gonna have a chat with these boys about how you treat a lady," Caitlin replied archly.
Jericho chuckled. "All right, here's the deal. Sandra's got a dance club/class thing after hours. Not the ballroom, stuff, more modern dance with some traditional styles like bellydancing and native forms. They're planning to ambush her outside Whitman once it's dark. I told security that me and Razorback were gonna meet her and provide an escort home to make sure it don't happen. We're hoping that her having friends with her will deter them, but like I said, they want in with Bloodwolf. Carson's been told, and we've been told to go ahead and do it, so long as we don't start the fight."
"How accurate is the word here?" Caitlin leaned in.
Jericho thought about it. "Pretty good most likely, see we got this guy named Thuban. He keeps eyes and ears out watching for this kinda shit, mostly to keep the GSD kids from getting hurt. He gets favors in return for the info, but when he gives word, word is usually good."
Caitlin nodded. "He's one of the cottage fixers?"
"Yeah. I think he's one of the best ones we got so far. Creepy guy though. Not sure if I like him." Jericho paused. "But then again, if he's right and this set up goes off I'll be happy to pay him his favor."
Caitlin nodded. "Alright. I know where that club meets. I been exploring. I'll provide some overwatch for Sandra, meet her at the door and walk her home."
"No offense Caitlin, but Willie and Necro are nasty fighters. Willie's a speedy. Likes to run circles around you while hitting every pressure point you have. Necro's got this thing where he touches you and your skin starts to melt."
"And I'm combat trained, and am a lot stronger than I look." Caitlin got a nasty grin. "Please tell me Willie is not that kid's codename."
Sandra slithered out of the building where she had dance class, smiling. This was the one thing besides magic she did at whateley that she loved. She'd figured out a long time ago that not having legs wasn't much of an obstacle, you just had to learn to move differently. She smiled to herself and began slithering over to Whitman.
"I thought I told you not to hide that face behind your hair." Caitlin was walking up, grinning from ear to ear.
Sandra smiled and pulled her hair away from her face. "You're not gonna let me get away with not being seen are you?"
"Hell no." Caitlin grinned and fel into step beside the snake-girl. "Besides, Jericho's been telling you the same thing for how long?"
"About a year now."
"Jericho's a bright boy. He's right. But that's not the issue. Somewhere, between where we are now and the mysterious Whitman hall, there lies two idiots I like to refer to as Willie and Necro, lying in wait for a certain slithering lady."
"Willie and necro are after me?" She began to look a bit nervous.
"That's the rumor." Caitlin winked at her. "Don't worry. You beat their asses once, you can do it again. Besides, now I'm joining the party and Razorback's being sneaky. Jericho's standing by to hit the Campus security panic button."
Sandra nodded. "So why you here?"
"Easy. I'm a lot nastier than I look, and I don't like it when people attack friends. Or threaten to."
"Friends?" Sandra looked slightly surprise.
"I like you." Caitlin stopped. "Oh shit."
Diamondback looked where she was watching and saw them, five bodies creeping through the bushes just as they burst out on the attack.
Sandra recognized Willie and Necro, while both of them recognized Killstench, Maggot and Bloodwolf.
"Sandra hold on, I'm gonna pin down the Ultraviolents!"
Sandra didn't even have time to argue as Caitlin bounded straight into Bloodwolf, smashing him several meters back with broken bones. That wouldn't last long. The big goob healed faster than it took some people to change underwear. Necro and Willie were on top of her in seconds. She dodged Willie, and slapped Necro away from her with her tail. The gaunt boy was thrown back several yards. Willie was a bit harder, as he was a speedster and could match her arguably insane reflexes, so the fight between them rapidly went nowhere.
Caitlin was in trouble and she knew it. Had she been in this fight as Erik, it would have been over in seconds. She was desperately trying to lay a hand on Killstench while simultaneously not getting hit by Maggot. She didn't feel like watching her skin melt. She finally connected and Bloodwolf was back in the game. She found herself completely on the defense as the giant shag carpet rushed her, clawing and snarling. Maggot kept trying to circle behind her, but she wouldn't stand still. A punch convinced Bloodwolf that being mindlessly aggressive wouldn't work, but the Ultraviolents had the upper hand. They were going to savor this one.
"Chief we got a live one! Scanners show a wild fight about 200 yards away from Whitman." Forsyth called out.
Chief Delarose walked over. "Who do we have in this tussle?" He watched the feeds and was surprised to see what looked like a complete knot of students in open brawl. No flyers.
"Looks like the Ultraviolents, Necro and Willie fighting... Two girls. Sandra Carter, or Diamondback and Hey! I know that girl! That's Caitlin, the one from the other morning!"
"What's her file?"
"Nada, new student settling in. Real cooperative."
"Get second squad out there armed for Heavy. This was the fight Jericho gave us the heads-up on. It's bigger than he thought."
"I'm on it boss. Get the squad there myself."
"You do that."
Caitlin screamed in pain and rage as claws slashed open her arm. The return punch sent the psychotic werewolf airborne. Killstench was back up and charging, Maggot was still trying to get her to sit still long enough for him to grab her. There were no insults, no witty banter, this was a all-out fight and everyone knew it.
Sandra was fending off Willie, but had to frequently divert attention to keeping Necro's necrotic touch off of her. She cracked her tail like a bullwhip, slashing open his shirt and hurting him, but he kept coming. When he got close enough he charged, and Sandra spit straight into his eyes. He tried to get the goo out of his vision, then fell flat on the ground, paralyzed.
She looked over at Caitlin and saw her screaming and bleeding, and Willie was coming in after her. Two more figures were coming to the fight, one slow, and one very, very fast. She turned on Willie, bared her fangs and went all-out attack.
Caitlin was taking a royal pounding. They were learning too quickly not to let her actually hit them or touch them. Maggot had burns, and part of his acidic slime coating had solidified on his body when he touched the energy corona on her. Even Bloodwolf was leery, but he kept attacking. They were wearing her down. Death by a thousand little cuts. Her right arm was slashed up, and her left had some nasty burn marks from where Maggot had actually touched her. Her shirt was torn, the wards destroyed, and the corona was arcing, burning and erupting into all-out insanity. Her hat was lost somewhere in the area, long since knocked off and her hair kept getting in her face as a result. The only thing keeping the Ultraviolents from really pressing was the fact that insane bursts of magic were beginning to erupt around her and from her, becoming a mad spectacle.
Then the balance shifted. Bloodwolf was knocked aside by two-hundred pounds of snarling, hissing Lizardman, who carried him a bit away before the two absolutely went insane in animalistic fury, each tearing ragged gashes in the other that healed just as quickly. A moment later, Killstench was on the ground when Jericho struck him with his cane. A dull *WHUPF* noise shot out and the linebacker looking guy went down like it was his purpose in life. Jericho stood above him, smiling and gently tapping him with the cane, each time a shock pushed Killstench to the ground, punctuated by Jericho's obnoxious voice. "No, don't get up." *WHUPF* "You need your beauty rest." *WHUPF* "Here let me help you with that." *WHUPF* "Oh, I'm sorry, only intelligent people are allowed to participate in this fight. You have to sit this one out."
Diamondback finally got ahold of Willie and had him wrapped up in her tail, slowly crushing him while he screamed. Caitlin looked at Maggot and charged, her eyes, and upper body blazing with unrestrained power. He tried to take the hit, but she slammed him across the battle area, angry, hurt and bleeding. Jericho and Diamondback watched as the blood from their friend hit the ground and solidified. Razorback was busy in a going-nowhere stalemate with Bloodwolf when security arrived.
Once they disentangled Willie from Diamondback's coils he was all too happy to go with security now that he could breathe again. They packed up Maggot , Necro and Killstench, and when the three friends were able to finally get through Razorback's psychotic instincts, he leapt away, leaving Bloodwolf staring down the barrels of security's heavy rifles and looking worn out. Meanwhile Caitlin was fending off the Security team medic.
"I don't care how bad the cuts are, this glowing shit will KILL you. Don't touch me!"
More arguing ensued until Forsythe came over and put a halt to it. He put several rolls of gauze and antiseptic in Caitlin's hands and told her in no uncertain terms to go to her room and fix herself. Then he turned to the rest of the quartet and demanded to know exactly what happened.
Caitlin was thankful for the wards in her room making the magic die down enough to bandage herself. She'd lost a lot of blood on the way here, and was busy using Circe's needle and some thread to stitch the wounds, and covering them with antiseptic and gauze. Doing the work without anaesthetic was a bitch, and she was really lousy at the stitching, but it stopped the bleeding. Fortunately as an exemplar she'd heal fast and without scars, at least that was the running theory.
She bandaged the arm Maggot had burned. The skin was melted and pockmarked, and she could almost see the muscles underneath. She wrapped the arm and went to pulling off her shirt and bra. Her left breast was torn up from Bloodwolf's claws. She muttered and winced and swore as she sewed up the slashes as best she could, then put a bandage from her own medical kit on the wound. She dropped the shirt and Bra on the bed. She'd fix them later.
Chief Delarose knocked and entered, realizing he should probably have waited. Caitlin got an annoyed look and put on the White Tank top with all the wards. She put the hat she'd retrieved back on and sighed.
"Sorry, didn't mean to see you..."
"Don't worry chief, everyone got a good view anyway when Bloodwolf tore open my shirt. You here to get a statement or yell at me?"
"Statement, actually. Mostly I was curious about why you were armed, and didn't use it."
"Well, as far as statements, I heard about the planned ambush and went to walk Diamondback to Whitman. I was hoping that Willie and Necro would be too cowardly to go two on two. I wasn't expecting the Ultraviolents, or else I'd have brought the Tazer guns from the Range two armory." She stood, sore as hell and feeling like eleven miles of bad road.
"And why you decided to take on the three Ultraviolents?" Delarose was more curious than anything.
"I got the muscle and the training. I knew I could at least survive long enough for someone to respond, and I knew Jericho had filled the Security station in on what happened. Hell Delarose, I know you know exactly who I am. Why you playing all coy with me?" Caitlin looked mildly irritated at the man.
"Just had to check. I'm gonna miss you up at the ranges there, we've already had to respond to a fight since they pulled you."
"I'm trying to get my student job up at the ranges."
Delarose nodded. "Ever think about security auxiliary? I watched that fight. You have good instincts, and if it had been one less Ultraviolent on you, you would have wiped the floor with the lot of them. The fact that I know I can trust you to be responsible is a bonus."
Caitlin nodded. "Ok I'll buy that. Tell you what, send the paperwork to Circe and gimmie a few days to heal these lovely gashes and I'd be happy to help."
"Already done. Good luck with your classes tomorrow."
"Thanks chief."
"So why'd you skip the knife?"
"Because if I pulled the knife, the only survivor would have been Bloodwolf."
Friday, December 1st
Caitlin walked into the dojo, wincing and annoyed. She wore a blue T-shirt with silver wards, and a pair of black jeans with a leather studded belt and silver-marked wards. The hat, shoes and fingerless gloves were ever-present. She looked at the clock... Hmmm, 15 minutes early. I have to stop that. Normal High school girls aren't usually that eager to get to class.
She settled in, wondering where the teacher was.
"New student?" She almost jumped out of her skin as the small asian man who taught Aikido seemed to materialize behind her.
"Yes Sensei." She turned and gave Sensei Ito a bow, and looked at him.
"Ah at least you know the proper forms of address." He nodded. "Do you have a Gi for practice?"
"No sensei, I have one, but it won't survive. The clothes I'm wearing have been modified by Circe to keep my powers under wraps." She replied nervously.
"Dangerous?"
"Unpredictable as well, yes."
"Very well. Have you had formal training in the martial arts?" Ito went on quietly, studying her.
"A lot of heavy striking and dirty fighting taught by military types Sensei."
Sensei-Ito scowled a bit. "I suppose I'll have to teach you to unlearn all of your bad habits as well. Do you have any powers that might be an issue besides that energy wave that seems to go off whenever you move?"
"Yes sensei, I'm a lot tougher than I was before and can lift about a thousand pounds unaided."
Ito nodded thoughtfully. "The bandages?" He motioned to Caitlin's arms.
"Close encounter of the Ultraviolent kind, Sensei. I was trying to keep a student from having to go five on one."
"Not the smartest thing I've heard, but children are seldom sensible." He nodded. "Very well once you are healed I will allow you to demonstrate what combat skills you have. But before you leave, I want to know what made you and this other student think you could win five on one odds."
"We weren't fighting to win, sensei, we were fighting for time. We had made sure to report to security that there might be trouble."
Sensei-Ito nodded once again. "Very well, Miss Bardue. I expect to see you no later than monday here again. Sooner if you happen to be an exemplar."
Caitlin nodded. "Aye, Sensei."
Powers Lab was interesting. Mrs. Bohn was insightful and tried to instill common sense into her students. A few runs in the simulators were done. Caitlin couldn't due to her injuries, but all in all it was an interesting class. She was slightly uncomfortable in the classrooms, but no one else showed any sign that she was out of place, thinking she was simply another Brick type. She saw no reason to correct the notion.
Mrs. Chulkris gave her a smile as she entered the Magic theory class. Caitlin didn't think she'd ever get used to seeing plants growing from someone's body. She nodded to Earth Mother and scanned the room, eyes automatically locking on Sandra's serpentine form. She walked over and plopped down in the adjascent seat, ignoring the incredulous looks from the students who were less than friendly with the girl.
"Heya Diamond." Caitlin grinned.
"Hi!" Sandra immediately perked up and grinned. "I didn't know you were gonna be in this class."
"I kinda finangled my schedule with Circe. She was curious, but didn't really object."
"Cool. We're into a discussion of focusing crystals and how they work."
Caitlin nodded. "Think we can get together so I can get up to speed sometime? I'm way behind on all this finger-wiggling mumbo-jumbo."
"Hey, it's not..." Sandra caught the glint in Caitlin's eyes and her smirk and realized she was messing with her. "Oh you're gonna fit right in with our group."
"Kinda figured. We'd better shuddup now. Mrs. Chulkris looks like she wants to address the class."
Both girls payed attention to the lecture beginning. Mrs. Chulkris started the lecture in much the way Caitlin expected, but it rapidly became apparent that she expected audience participation. Turns out Sandra really knew what she was talking about. She kept up with the more esoteric concepts readily, even answering questions Caitlin couldn't figure out if there was a coherent answer to.
"Now can anyone tell me how to empower a crystal for use as a mystic aid?" The verdant woman asked the class. No hands raised.
Caitlin sighed and raised her hand when she realized that everyone was silent and Earth mother was staring right at her.
"Yes, Miss Bardue."
"Depends on what you want. Care to give an example so I can give a coherent answer?"
"A simple focus crystal that will allow one to channel energies into a ritual or spell to allow finer control." Mrs. Chulkris looked entirely too smug.
Caitlin thought for a minute, wandered up, palmed one of the crystals she had on the display, pocketed it and walked back to her desk. "Easiest way is to simply keep the crystal on your person for about a month or so, especially if you're casting. The more magic you use, the faster it attunes to you."
"Correct. Now I'm going to pass these out to the rest of you. Remember, for the full attunement it will take a month in most cases. Faster for some. Now what is the principle behind this Miss Bardue?"
"Search me. I can tell ya effort and result, but I never got a chance to study the whys and hows of the whole deal." Caitlin felt her face burning as a few students smirked at the new kid being put on the spot and choking.
Earth Mother nodded and went back to her lecture. "It's a simple process. The more exposed to magic an item becomes, the more sensitive to those energies it becomes. Some items have a natural resonance that allows for faster or more powerful results. Crystals are one of these. They don't require any ritual work per se for basic attunement, but more potent results can be attained with such. They aren't the most powerful foci, but they can help in a pinch."
The rest of the day went along in similar fashion, and Caitlin felt like her head was going to pop from the information glut that she barely understood. High school understanding of mysticism really didn't provide many clues to the more potent energies of the world.
When lunch rolled around she and Sandra wandered into the cafeteria, and the two loaded up their plates and enjoyed a nice, low key meal. Jericho and Razorback didn't make it before they finished, and Sandra went over some of the very basics of magic theory. She managed to dumb it down to Caitlin's level, but the ex-marine was left with the feeling that the shy, quiet girl was light years ahead of her in the brains department. The only advantage Caitlin had was twelve extra years of real-world experience, and an ability to break down complex ideas into their simplest forms and build from there.
When the two split off it was getting towards classes, so Caitlin went and picked up her metal case, wandering over to the store with her class lists. She picked up all the required materiels and a few she thought she might need later for random projects. The ballistic vest was problematic. She couldn't use her old one. It was too wide, and she needed something with a bit more stopping power than kevlar. She eventually settled on the matte black Mylar-weave vest with deforming ballistic plates. Someone called it a devisor special. Gauranteed to stop knives and bullets that weren't supernaturally accelerated. She picked up a sewing kit and some special thread from the section of mystic gear, and checked the lot out.
Her bank account took a heavy hit in fifteen minutes of shopping, but had enough to hold out for quite a while yet.
Physics was a breeze. The class was studying ballistics, something Caitlin knew a disgusting amount about. She managed to get by rather easily, even contributing meaningful commentary. Dr. Zalman was impressed at how accurately she was able to describe and diagram a ballistic arc, complete with ricochet patterns.
Magic Lab was interesting to say the least. Most of the students were concentrating on conjuring illusions and controlling small elemental energies. She watched and paid attention, as the effect the students had on the currents that underlied her vision was absolutely fascinating. The kids seemed to grasp and pull the currents into patterns and shapes that coalesced into actual effects. Diamondback wasn't the most adept at it, but she certainly put forth a lot of concentration and effort.
Mostly Caitlin sat back and was busy sewing mystic wards into her new Ballistic vest that matched up with the ones on her shirt. She was going to ask Circe to activate and empower them once she got the groundwork laid out. Circe said nothing, and everyone was too interested in the results of their work to notice her.
Basic Rifle Combat was a dud. She wasn't permitted to participate due to the fact that she couldn't yet wear her vest without cooking it off or something equally stupid. Gunny Bardue supervised, but they didn't get time to talk. She simply observed the class while continuing her sewing on the vest. The kids were using MILES gear and blanks in open combat, divided into two teams. The Seniors led the underclassmen, and Bardue supervised, hollering tactical information and invective at the students who weren't performing well. Not surprisingly, Deadeye was leading one of the teams. Breaker had control of the other team.
The two Grunts Team members were surprisingly effective leaders, and Caitlin had to suppress a long sigh. She'd been teaching the two since their Freshman year. Both were planning to join the Corps. and she'd wanted to be able to be the one to drop them off at MCRD Parris Island herself, and be able to be there when they graduated. Oh well. Such is life
The day ended, and she skipped the cafeteria, opting to grab her food to go. She went back to her room and continued her efforts to puzzle out that damned Artificer Ink. She knew she was missing something, something so basic that it was almost invisible. She felt like she was searching for a mithril needle in a stack of needles. But all in all, classes were good, and she was looking forward to her second chance at life. Maybe someday she'd be able to get her teaching job back. Maybe she'd be able to do something equally fulfilling. Only time would tell.
Joe Gunnarson
December 14th, 2006
“Liz, I need to talk to you.”
Headmistress Carson turned to Delarose with an annoyed look. “I know that tone. Please tell me whatever this crisis is, it’s not necessary to deal with it until after we’re done with the Junior and Senior combat finals, preferably after Christmas.”
“Caitlin’s on the move, she dropped a note on my desk and said she was going off the ranch to unfuck herself.” He looked at Carson evenly. “Typical maneuver for our favorite impulse-control problem.”
“What’s Eldritch doing?”
“She just rolled through the parking lot, took 'Mahren’s' truck," he punctuated the statement with air quotes, "backed it up to the Range four door, unloaded a bunch of boxes into the back, and completely ransacked her own room afterward. Right now she's on a beeline for the Grove. I have Corey and a couple other hardasses suiting up to follow her and give her some Overwatch, bring her back if need be.”
“Why Corey?”
“Corey’s the one that kept Mahren from bleeding during Nex’s suspected incursion on Range 4.” He paused. “I’ve given him instructions to shadow and defend if need be but not to interfere and report back to me.”
Carson smiled slightly. “At least you haven’t lost your light touch when you need to. I assume it’s just cursory to ensure no heavies came out of the weapons locker?”
“Yeah right, like that'll ever happen." Delarose snorted at the thought. "She’s off the ranch, and if she gets into trouble...” Delarose spread his hands and shrugged slightly.
“She won’t call for help.” Carson sighed. “Keep me posted, Franklin.”
The battered pickup cruised off the Academy grounds and rolled quietly through areas where normally traffic was limited to security vehicles and the occasional speed freak disobeying the rules to test drive his new toy. A quick turn near Kirby Hall went onto a nearly invisible road leading from the campus in a roundabout path towards the Grove. The sun hung low in the sky, and she could see Lady Luna’s shadowed face high above the trees. Perfect for what she had to do, and the moonlight would light her way.
Caitlin concentrated very hard on keeping to the path, ensuring that her tires didn’t leave the almost luminescent trail lit by the odd daylight/moonlight. She could see the currents coming together and flowing down the path like a river corridor, coming together to guide whoever was on it to her destination.
The grove was forbidden for a very good reason, and she made sure that she skirted the edges. Caitlin could almost see the branches reach out to rip her or the truck off the path. She hated this place, but she had to come down this path every semester as emergency overwatch for the Senior magic classes. Sometimes the only cure for a young mage’s screwup was through the sudden and total application of brute force. Much as the kids who pursued the esotera refused to admit it, there was no more effective tool for defense than trained armsmen with the right weapons. Both Grimes and Circe were in agreement on the point.
Thinking of that, she looked back to see the two vehicles trailing her. The armed dune buggies weren't much shelter against the low temperature, but the men in full combat kit weren’t looking cold, they were looking worried. She’d borne that white-knuckled look herself many times, and she wasn’t looking forward to this. She recognized Corey's presence in the tagalongs, and mentally shrugged. Regardless of their orders, she was not going to cease her path unless she was dead.
She reached the clearing, marked as it was by a simple, circular rut in the ground that had been packed with rock salt, which in turn had been specially cultivated to grow in the circle. She knew from experience dealing with this place that salt lines grounded out magic energies and kept them from fully penetrating. It wasn’t perfect by any stretch, but a lightning bolt strong enough to kill an exemplar-5, cast by an enraged mage wouldn’t retain much more energy passing over a salt line than it would take to startle a toddler.
The circle was perfect for her purposes, but she needed to set everything up correctly. When she looked up the moon’s face was half-obscured by clouds, something that her instincts registered as perfect for concealment of energies. Caitlin took a breath and stepped out of the truck into the cold air. If she'd thought overly much about the lack of a chill it gave her she'd have wondered how human she still was.
She walked over to the security officers who pulled up a bit further back, and nodded. “How much did the boss fill you in?”
She recognized Andrews and Byron with the new guy. Neither of the two new officers were what she’d have called drinking buddies in the past, but they were pros. They were also the two men whom Carson and Delarose had said, on multiple occasions they would trust with their children.
Andrews spoke first, and she considered the short man carefully. “Chief said you have to do something, you couldn’t be talked out of it, and allowing anyone to stop you would likely be detrimental to your safety.”
“Close enough.” Caitlin looked at all three. “There’s more to it than that, but not that I can explain in the time I have. Something may come at me, or you at guys. If it’s not a student, and it tries to enter the circle, please by all means stop it with extreme prejudice.”
Corey looked at Caitlin. “So we just stand here and freeze while you do this bit and shoot at anything that gets too close to you with hostile intent?”
She nodded. “All right, I have to start now.” She walked to the truck without another word, the timing was too tight and she’d had to fight to say that much. She was rapidly vanishing into that half-trance she’d come to associate with Artificer construction and analysis. She could think, or talk, sort of. But the process would override her personality for a short time to get her started.
"Delarose, we've made contact, she's getting started. Send reinforcements. Looks like this one could get really ugly, real fast." Corey spoke into his helmet comms. "Yeah, I saw the look in her eyes even with those metal discs, she's worried. Andrews, Byron, firing line one hundred meters from the Grove, set the mines..." Caitlin stopped hearing as the three men, and the crews of the other two dune buggies moved to follow Corey's orders.
She dropped her warded ball cap on the hood of the truck and snapped the key to the vehicle in half, throwing the remains into the bed. She walked behind the vehicle and pushed. Nothing could contaminate the circle that wasn’t to be used in it. So she carefully pushed the pickup to the center of the circle and held it stopped, then began unloading the bed.
Everything she had left that she remembered fondly, that she hated, anything with an emotional link, she handled carefully, walking around the truck and setting the item in its own place on the soft earth of the circle. Everything from an old, weather-worn baseball, an old pair of running shoes, a battered and ancient computer, a new laptop, a box of letters - all found places on the ground carefully arranged around the truck. The photos were stacked neatly, the books set up as though they were on shelves. The last thing she did was place her old dress blues in the empty bed of the truck. They were arranged in the bed as though to be worn, save for the arms that were crossed over the chest as though in prayer, or in a coffin as an effigy of a lost life.
The mason jar of blue ink, and a few tools remained outside the circle. Caitlin gingerly stepped out of the circle and walked for the very edge of the grove, looking at the ground beneath the tree branches. She found the branch, ripping it from the reach of the grove before the place could react, stepping beyond its reach even as she grasped the tip and began humming. No particular tune was really needed, just the humming, and the shadowed moon. An instinctive twist of the wrist seared the tip of the branch, blackening the dead wood as she began carefully using it to inscribe a large, complex pattern in the earth beneath the last physical remnants of her old life.
As Caitlin went about her work, preparing to sacrifice those physical connections to her memories, she never really gave much thought to the slow notes of Amazing Grace she was humming, charging the circle with a hopeful, melancholy energy of a lost soul searching for the light. In a way, she was building her own pyre, arranging everything just so in an odd emulation of cremation rites and what might be a Viking funeral had there been water nearby.
She carefully wove her way along, deepening the lines she’d cut with the branch and set the various objects above the paths and stepped back, watching the horizon as the sun began to almost touch the top of the horizon she ducked under, using a screwdriver to slam four holes in the bottom of the gas tank and a fifth in the side to allow airflow. Sometimes ritual tools were critical. Sometimes any old damned thing would do, and Caitlin loathed unnecessary complexity.
She watched carefully as the sun touched the horizon, the gasoline filling the odd lines of the symbol she’d drawn by instinct. At a moment she couldn’t fully quantify, Caitlin Bardue struck a match and dropped it into the gasoline, igniting a hundred-foot diameter, circular mandala of flame in a symbol not seen since before man walked fully upright on the earth. The ground burned, and as the flames ripped out the circle closed, creating a tight mystic barrier that not even the burning smoke could escape as it rose in a black column. She didn't realize that the blaze reached its full glory just as the sun dipped below the horizon, fully.
She never left the circle, even as the flames turned an oddly azure color, everything in the circle igniting and catching - plastic, metal, paper all charring and blackening and crumbling away as though they were wood in a fireplace. Caught in the flames, she was oblivious to the world outside, or to the wash of energy so concentrated that even the baseline security officers felt something dance on their graves, felt their hair stand on the back of their heads, and felt like something was watching them, all at once.
She didn’t hear the thunder of the Security Officer guns as something responded, and came from the grove to investigate the sudden surge of power.
Some things can neither be explained, nor reasonably quantified to someone who has never experienced it. It’s a phenomenon akin to an adrenaline junkie trying to explain his first rush to someone who doesn’t take risks, or a soldier trying to explain combat to a desk-bound civilian. It doesn’t work, leaving only half-formed abstractions to anyone who hasn’t experienced something similar.
What many students on the campus felt in the moments of dusk couldn’t be articulated to anyone without anything resembling mystic or psychic senses. Nephandus felt it as a brief flash of exhilaration, of unrealized potential rippling across his senses. Fey felt a cold wind that made even Aunghadhail shudder in naked terror as every single Ley line flared with a bright power and all of them shifted to a vivid cobalt blue color for a brief instant. Sara Waite experienced a surge of hunger so deep and profound that the universe itself could never sate it for a brief moment. Jadis felt the world die and birth itself from ruin while Nacht found everything suddenly too bright.
Bladedancer felt the Tao become a vortex, pulling everything into an open wound in reality. Lindsay's pet, Pern suddenly, inexplicably grew big, spread his wings, gave a Godzilla scream, and then shrank down and hid under the bed. Elysia Grimes felt the clock tick closer to the end with the finality of Big Ben about to toll its bell. To Caitlin herself, the circle stood awash in the eye of a hurricane as the currents permeating her vision tore about in a spectacular vortex of energy, oblivious as her own clothing burned and the violent corona of power erupted from her body and soul, adding to the intensity of the display without touching her flesh.
All the while more remnants of her old life, the possessions of Erik Mahren, were rapidly rendered to dust by eldritch flame. Not even the iron, steel and aluminum of the old pickup were spared, burning to ash rather than melting, as though it were constructed of cloth and paper. The salt surrounding the circle was glowing and bizarre shapes and sigils were etching themselves into the ground at her feet as the fire consumed the last of the effigies.
With each item's destruction, the memories associated with it hammered her like an oncoming truck, then burned into her soul as it passed through her, and beyond. She relived each nightmare, every joy, the pain, the exultation, love and loss all over again in the moment frozen in time, as it stretched into eternity. She relived her life as each piece fell, and renewed her ties to those memories.
His mouth opened for the first time and he screamed as soon as he was clear. Somewhere in the back of his outraged subconscious he heard, but did not understand as the man in white proclaimed "It's a boy."
The candles burned merrily on the cake, all three of them, as the boy blew out the flames and made his wish, then proceeded to shred every piece of colored paper off the packages...
The boy looked skeptically at the pink-wrapped bundle. His baby sister was so tiny and fragile he was afraid to touch her. He might hurt her, and he wasn't sure he liked the attention she was getting, feeling ignored...
"Cally go home!" Erik hollered at his baby sister. She wasn't supposed to be out here. He and Mike were shooting BB guns at cans in the Alaska snow. Cally was annoying as hell, and he had better things to do. He was seven years old for crying out loud!
Caitlin shut her eyes as the images, both clear and unclear ripped across her subconscious. She knew what was coming next... She didn't want to, but she got to relive it in flashes.
"Hey fatass!" The big, red ball slammed into his skull with enough force to knock him on his side. He hated being fat, hated being a big joke. The other kids pointed and laughed at him, jeering and giggling...
The impact of the other boy's fist slammed Erik in the jaw, rocking his head to the side. The other boy was half his size and a weightlifter, but something finally snapped, and he felt a searing heat enter his body for a brief instant causing him pain, a flash of runes and the sound of metal on metal. Pain... He couldn't take it. He blacked out as he felt himself roaring forward, a look of fear on the other boy's face...
"I'm impressed Erik," Dad said as he looked at the car. Erik had gotten busy and restored the ancient pickup to working order while his dad worked, and he felt happy. He'd managed to do it without looking at the manuals...
"You wanna go see a movie?" Erik looked at Natalie's suddenly shocked face. The girl was a mutant, and not one of the low-key ones, one of Erik's friends for over a year that he kept from his folks. They wouldn't understand why he'd been hanging out with the two mutants in school. Especially not the girl with hair that resembled four-foot long black octopus tentacles...
"Get out of my house!" Dad was yelling, mom was bawling. "No son of mine makes time with those freaks!"
"You sure you want to go now, Erik?" Sergeant Vaughn, the Marine recruiter asked. "Yeah, get me the fuck out of here. There's nothing left for me in this frostbit shithole..."
Caitlin opened her eyes as the memories burned even as they shuffled back to her mind, leaving something of her every moment in the pyre.
"Move it recruit! I swear to god, you must be the biggest fucking piece of nasty that the corps scraped up. You better catch up to the platoon before I put my boot up your ASS!"
Worm looked at Erik. "We are so fucked. Get that launcher rolling, Heckel and Jeckel will provide cover, me and the boys will pull the swarmstomp." Erik nodded and kissed the Medallion of Saint George at his neck and bolted from the cover of the shattered wall and took aim at the raging mutant, even as his other two teammates let fly with machinegun fire. He aimed and fired, praying that the rocket's HEAT round would do the job...
"This is Dragonslayer actual! We are fucked! Artillery my position! Repeat! Artillery, my position! Grid coordinates are..."
Worm's voice cut across the comm, "Target down, Hijacker report." Erik looked over to see the boy scream and ignite with arcing energy as the lightning bold cooked the Kibble, the fresh meat, leaving a smoking corpse where the former marine had stood. He spun the gun towards the boy. "Add add add! Blaster has joined." "Holy shit he's just a kid!" Worm cut in. "He killed the Kibble, take him down!"
"For bravery above and beyond the call of duty, in keeping with the highest standard of the United States Marine Corps, Corporal Erik Mahren is hereby awarded the Navy Cross..."
Heckel looked shocked. "You mean we can go home finally?" Erik nodded. "No more Dragons for us bro..."
Caitlin started shaking as the final bell began to toll in her mind...
Gunnery Sergeant Bardue continued his speech. "This year we have a new heavy gunnery instructor. Corporal Erik...
"Englund fuck off, I don't care how dangerous you think she is, unless she starts killing other students you will stay the fuck OFF MY RANGE!" Erik shouted at the older man...
His grin died when he saw her lurch backwards as if hit with a mack truck. He heard the thunderous report of the .50 Caliber rifle as Cat's body exploded for the last time, sending burning waves of searing heat and fire to touch the ground even a hundred feet below. He looked, desperately ignoring the heat, trying to see any sign of her. There was nothing left.
Bardue and Smythe held Erik firmly, pulling the struggling and vicious man back away from his target. Reverend Englund looked tired and somewhat saddened even as the enraged Range Instructor screamed invective, an unfired pistol lying on the ground where Smythe had knocked it away. "Motherfucker you brought them here! We trusted you and you brought them here, and now Cat's dead!" He did his level best to break loose, slip away, but his coworkers had him solid and would not let him go until Englund got his act together and left...
"Miss Reilly I don't know who you think you are and I do not care. You will not speak to me in that tone again. I may be here to provide answers but I will not, and I mean this in no uncertain terms little girl, NOT tolerate disrespect from a student, no matter how powerful. Now sit down and be quiet!"
"New face? Don't see too many people sitting back here in outcast corner."
The memories flashed and fell in, and she was left with a sense of loss, something... Peace. The last of the fire died as she finally let go of Erik, and let him rest... and realized she had never lost who he was, never lost who SHE was, even after Halloween, after the change...
When the last trace died, Eldritch simply plucked the mason jar from nearby and scooped a handful of ash into it. Everything went still, as the maelstrom ended as though it were never there, and a slow creep of metallic tint began to diffuse through the cobalt blue ink even as the facade of humanity stripped itself from her.
Skin hardened, and went pale, then ghost-white as a marble, stone sheen covered her body. She became the construct hidden underneath her skin for a moment, and her emotions snuffed out like candles between two wet fingers as the trance took hold fully, insulating her from the things to come, and forcing her mind open to them all at once. Her illusory flesh came back to the fore, then faded back to stone and steel after a moment as she realized that the percussive hammer of the guns by the security team ripped through a line of... things rushing straight at her.
She stood, impassive, watching the maddening mix of voodoo-wolves, eldritch creeping things and manifested spirits which were eviscerated by the sweeping fire of men with powerful weapons and helmet visors warded by herself and Fey to protect their minds from the full spectacle of the things that inspired a thunderclap migraine even in herself. She couldn't even acknowledge the pain spearing her skull as the trance took hold of her again. Whateley Security had the situation under control. She had work to do.
"No, get back to your cottages. The Grove is off-limits. Do I make myself clear?" Delarose glared at the grab-bag of students, all of whom he recognized as magic course students who were walking curiously towards the site of whatever disruption they could feel. The percussive thunder of heavy fire sounded off distantly in the background.
"But what's going on out there?" Nephandus looked longingly past Delarose.
" Same as with the Senior Class Ritual workings. What's going on is none of your business."
It was odd to see so many kids, many of whom hated each other with an unbridled passion, unified in curiosity. Nikki Reilly's face was screwed up with irritation, Diamondback looked worried. Delarose had no illusions as to whom the two girls had noticed was conspicuously absent.
Most of the students were there because they felt a power in play. No one moved to go back to the cottages, staring past Delarose almost in a daze, past the small line of Whateley Security personnel that were watching to ensure that the only safe path into the Grove was blocked. The nonviolent standoff had been going on for an hour when the serpentine wiccan and the fae redhead looked at each other and seemed to come to a mutual agreement, nodding slightly as they turned and obeyed Delarose's quiet, but firm instruction to go back.
As they moved out of earshot, Nikki looked at the massively deformed girl and shot a rueful glance over her shoulder. "Caitlin?"
"Whoever's out there is putting out resonance of discipline, rage, violence, honor, and a whole host of other contradictory things."
Fey nodded. "Caitlin. Whatever's going on out there, I don't think we should leave her to her own devices."
"Agreed. I'll round up the boys."
"You will do no such thing." Both girls cringed as they slowly turned to look behind them. Headmistress Carson wasn't one oft-thought of as "stealthy," but she hadn't been sensed by either. "You two are going to do as Delarose asked, and return to your cottages."
Nikki almost threw her hands up in frustration when she heard "No" come out of the most well-behaved and least-belligerent Outcast. When she looked, Diamondback's jaw was set in an obstinate, defiant position as she looked Carson right in the eye and uttered her words of defiance.
The imposing woman arched an eyebrow and gave Diamond a withering glare. "Excuse me?"
It was one of the fascinating moments in time where a simple decision could shift the course of destiny, and Fey found herself echoing the word without prompting from Aunghadhail.
"No."
"You two are riding the ragged edge of detention if you don't turn around right now and get back to Whitman and Poe."
"I'll get my detention in the morning. If that's Cait, I'm helping her. She's backed me up and helped me from the first day I met her for no better reason than she could. I'm not leaving her to hang." Diamond's voice was calm, measured and laced with pure steel, and more than a touch of her rarely heard Texas Twang. "If you tell me right now that whatever is going on has nothing to do with her, we'll go back, and we won't bug you again. But if it is, there is no force on earth that's going to stop me from going there."
"And if I told you that you'll be expelled if you ignore me a third time?"
Both Fey and Diamondback recoiled slightly at the thought, then the serpentine girl looked over at the horizon, toward the distant sound of gunfire. Her jaw was set in a manner only Jericho would recognize. She looked back at Carson, determined but with tears starting to pool at the edges of her eyes. "Still helping Cait."
Nikki watched, agape as the serpentine girl's body turned, and her tail slid back and forth as she headed towards Twain without so much as looking back, hiding the fact that her eyes were pooling and her face was a mask of despair.
"That was mean, you know." Nikki didn't even turn to look at Carson. "She's not quite sensitive enough to realize you're testing her."
"I know, but I had to be sure." Carson's eyes bored holes directly into the back of Nikki's head. "What's your interest in the matter of Caitlin?"
Nikki tossed about the idea of being deceptive, and not telling the whole story rather than trying to lie for about three seconds before she discarded it. "I owe my life to a pained, angry range instructor who kept something from killing me and effectively died in the process." She glanced back at Carson's taken aback expression, "I'm going to make sure that frustrated teacher's chance at a new life belongs to her, not someone like me."
"And the rest of the Kimbas and friends?"
"Aren't involved. They aren't aware of what's going on, unless Chou's connection to the Tao demands her presence; then there's not much anyone can do to stop her from already being there. They don't need to know what she doesn't tell them. It's not my place to tell them Caitlin's secret, any more than it was Sharisha's place to out me and Chaka to Diamondback" Fey nodded to the subtly shaking reptilian girl. "She kept our secret, and she knocked Sharisha on her ass for running her mouth."
"That saves me the trouble of skinning Sharisha." Carson stood next to Fey, watching the slithering girl gain her composure and begin slithering firmly towards her destination. "As to Diamondback... Fortunately I never said she would be. Just 'if."
"I noticed that too." Fey didn't waste any more words, instead hooking the Ley Lines and twisting them in a manner she'd become more used to, and was becoming more skilled at. There was no flash, no gateway. She was simply gone.
She met Diamondback at Twain as the determined, angry girl did her side-to side slide, trailing thirteen feet of serpent behind her, arms simply moving in tune with the undulations as though she were normal, simply walking.
"Thought you'd stay behind." Sandra grinned to see the redhead at the door.
"What, and leave you to have all of the fun cleaning Thornie toilets by yourself? Please."
"Let's go get the boys."
Caitlin shook herself out of the trance, loading the needle into the odd tattoo gun she'd fixed for the purpose as one of the foul things her friends dubbed "voodoo wolves" charged into the circle, having slipped past the Whateley Security team covering her.
She set the jar down, picking up a crescent-shaped piece of Obsidian that had fallen from her person, realizing her only adornment was the intricate pentacle medallion she had created early after her transformation.
She crouched and waited, blade held in a reverse-grip, blade edged upward along her arm and waited. When the thing reached her it skidded to a stop, and grabbed her torso with its arms, careful not to pierce her with its claws, to run off with the docile thing that helpfully knelt almost in supplication.
The look on the thing's face was surprise and disbelief when the Harvester slid through its belly, then tore upward through the sternum like the bone was made of butter before the odd, naked, burning woman stepped around it. She pulled its head back and slashed its throat, careful to aim it away from the untainted jar of tattoo ink nearby.
Mahren had been a Marine, another type of soldier, another brand of killer. Even though she laid his life to rest on the Pyre, Caitlin still kept everything that was him within herself. She was still capable of killing, capable of love, capable of fear, capable of everything that had made Mahren human.
Caitlin retained everything that was him, but she hadn't re-bound it to herself. There was no feeling of exaltation at victory, no cries of fear as the thing had approached. There was only the machine-like determination of the construct-creature she was now, having begun her work, bound and determined to complete it. Her mind was in a half-state, somewhere between the man she was, and the perfect slave she could be. Without those links to her old life, she would simply have her humanity fade and become the emotionless automaton she feared becoming anyway, and she had deliberately annihilated all of them, save one, which she surrendered and was no longer hers.
As she picked up the mason jar, she simply hooked a battery pack to the tattoo gun and walked over to the parked dune buggy Whateley Security had brought, pulling out the medical kit and using it to sterilize and clean the monstrosity's blood from her body rather clinically. Then, ignoring the irrelevant sacks of meat behind her that were frantically shouting and shooting at worse things she began with her right hand, slowly etching cobalt blue arrowheads in the first knuckle of each finger and her thumb, tracing a tattoo pattern that had not been seen since the first proto-humans had walked the earth apart from the Five-Fold Court.
Without caring, she noted the dim flash of light as one of the redheaded Sidhe creatures, a pair of humanoid monsters and a child appeared near the sigil, simply watching them for signs of interference as she dipped the needle again and began to trace a line up her arm, scoring stone flesh with each pass, locking the binding magic home.
Jericho started as he realized Caitlin was naked, sitting on a dune buggy doing something to herself, causing a new, metallic texture to appear on her arm, painting gray lines even he could see simply watching the four new arrivals with an empty expression. To his senses she looked wrong. Razorback's reaction was similar though he politely averted his gaze, something Jericho couldn't do. After the initial shock, the two boys simply ran past her, leaving her to the girls, and joining the fray at the edge of the grove, as things boiled from within it that even the spirit guarding the Grove could never hope to stop all of.
"Oh God." Diamond STARED at her friend, and felt... Nothing. There was no emotion, no outpouring of relief. "What's happening to her?"
"She started. Shit." Nikki looked around, frantically, feeling the void of emotion and personality that the thing wearing Caitlin's form was. "She started, and we won't know if she'll be ok until she's done. We have to keep the things off of her."
"Will she be okay?" For the first time, Nikki saw and felt Diamondback's terror that she might lose one of the few friends she had.
"I have no idea, but until she's done, we draw a line in the sand and make sure nothing gets to her."
"I can do that." Diamondback turned and bared her fangs as she saw the things coming through the lines of the security squads. They were trying to get past them, so focused upon their prize they couldn't be bothered to kill them. "I got your number RIGHT HERE!" She charged and having forgotten her bag 'o tricks that had let her beat Hekate, she was limited to her raw physical might, which was prodigious.
Nikki, however, simply stepped forward and drew Malachim's Feather, more carefully choosing her targets than the very enraged and frantic Diamondback as she tried to adapt to support the girl's vicious and calculating combat style.
Caitlin registered none of it as the tattoo gun finished tracing the outer lines of the first part of the lines on her arm, meticulously filling in the gaps so none of the bare skin between the blue threads would remain unmarred. Had she not remained blissfully unaware that her friends were fighting, and possibly dying, she would never have been able to finish her work.
A blast of energy stripped one of the miscellaneous creatures of its existence as Carson hit the ground and aimed her Rod at another of the creatures. Behind her were several forms dressed in heavy Range REACT armor, similar to Mahren's protection of choice when he raged on Halloween night, each carrying their particular weapons of choice, loaded down with ammunition.
Bardue, Wilson and Smythe went about the grim business of setting a perimeter around the dune buggy that Caitlin's vacant but still-moving form occupied. Delarose was keeping the children mostly contained back at the school, even though he wasn't able to stop Chou from slipping through and taking a knee not twenty feet from the Artificer, silently praying that the young woman would finish and be whole. If not, she'd made a promise, and she'd keep it.
Elyzia Grimes and several other teachers, some who knew Erik and some who didn't, set up a mystic perimeter, keeping watch as Astarte and four very frantic, angry children tried desperately to keep whatever was seemingly boiling from the earth away from their friend.
"Come on Hollow man, win this," she hissed.
Shortly before Dawn, as the gunfire slowly petered out, the thing that was Caitlin stopped, and the tattoo gun simply fell out of her hand without fanfare or ceremony, the puppet's strings finally cut as she froze like a statue as though waiting for something. And she did nothing.
Someone had built a fire, and the flames reflected merrily off the steel discs inset onto the construct's eyes. Its form was marble, its hair black, reflective metal, its eyes were Onyx gemstones inset into a stone head and then adorned with two runed, steel discs. There were no signs of life to be found in the seemingly dead creature.
The attacks petered out and slowed, then died out as soon as the tattoo gun touched the earth, like a faucet being turned off. No one got the artificer this time around, and the slow procession of teachers, security officers and friends slowly made their way back to the odd vehicle that was covered in a layer of hoarfrost, standing silently around her in a circle.
Diamondback was crying.
No one said anything; they all just stood there as an odd memorial for a lost friend, comrade, colleague or student. The body just sat there, unmoving, slouched, bereft of life, naked as the day she came into the world. There was nothing sensual about what sat on the dune buggy, just a mock-up of a human form which replaced one who by all rights should have died on a range meant for the testing of children with uncontrollable powers.
Gunnery Sergeant Oscar Bardue bowed his head and closed his eyes, whispering a prayer he could never expect to be answered.
Jericho was trying desperately to keep his composure, while his childhood friend wept on his shoulder.
Razorback was silent, covered in gore, and unable to think of anything smartass to say for the first time since he'd become a monster and been fished out of the Outback.
Nikki was delicately checking the unmoving form for any spark of life, any sign of consciousness. Aunghadhail was no help, for she had not been the one to mark the Artificer held by the Western Court.
The statue was beautiful, the cobalt lines of tattoos traced delicately from her toes to her forehead, twin bars of elegant, curving flowing lines travelling up its body with ancient glyphs trapped between that none here could translate. The lines curved around stone breasts, seeming to cradle them, ending in delicate tips over the too-well-sculpted nipples. Her arms and face were works of art, the only marring where she had dislocated her arms to blindly etch the delicate patterns on her own back, bracketing her spine, then clinically forced the bones back into socket.
Her face was coldly beautiful, devoid of emotion, blankly staring at nothing, the delicately patterned lines on her face began as points above her eyes, then travelled back to her hairline and curved to another point under her cheekbones, then curved back again along the cheekbones and ended in tips below her eyes on her lower jaw.
Nikki finally stopped looking and let Grimes come forward. Doctors could find a heartbeat, but if the mages could find no trace of magic left...
Chou finally stood and put her hand on her sword, then joined the odd circle, finally. She wouldn't have to put a dead statue out of its misery.
"She was brave." Grimes said simply, and was surprised that she was able to close the eyes, and move the limbs of the statue.
"She was honorable." Carson put a blanket over the body, to preserve what little dignity Caitlin had left.
"She was one of our best." Wilson helped arrange her limbs so that Caitlin's body was lying flat, smoothing her hair under her.
"She was my friend." Diamondback settled alongside the body, tears flowing freely.
It was the darkest hour, right before dawn, when the light had been at its weakest that the teacher known formerly as Erik Mahren died.
The mourners watched the sun come over the horizon, and when the first rays of the naked sun peeked over the horizon, their eyes were drawn by a ragged gasp at their feet, and a whimper of pain as the stone body seemed to turn flesh as the pained girl named Caitlin Bardue drew in her first real breath.
“About eight or nine years go a young-blooded Lance Corporal wrote a tactical essay on the use of mutants in the military and the difficulties in combating them. That paper was classified Eyes-Only for four years before it was released to the general public. I’m sure you are familiar with it. ’mutant Shock and the Modern Infantryman' I believe it was called.”
Joe Gunnarson
Sunday, December 10th, 2006
Reverend Darren Englund entered the main control room of Arena 77 with trepidation. Not since a couple nights after Halloween had he talked to, or attempted to make peace with the Whateley Gun Range Crew and the Group Crisis Simulation Team. That instance had been a disaster and a half. The result had been a near-miss with the Heavy Weapons Range Instructor, Erik Mahren, and only the timely intervention of Gunny Bardue and Staff Sergeant Wilson had interrupted a sudden, unexpected rendezvous with a magazine full of .45 caliber bullets that probably would have ripped him open, toughened body or not. He had been torn between rage at the outburst, and guilt. The attack on the demon had brought unintended consequences in the death of one of the Range instructors, Mahren’s fiancée.
Carson had not been pleased.
It was a bit of nervousness that he brought with him that was the bleeding edge between paranoia and self-preservation. Gunny Bardue wanted to talk to him, something he’d refused to do since Cat McQuiston died and Mahren went self-destructive in the personality. Now Mahren was gone and no one would tell him what had happened to the range safety lunatic of Whateley Academy. Every night he imagined the cold burning rage he’d seen in the man’s eyes, and almost imagined a set of crosshairs caressing his image whenever he found himself alone in the quiet since the semi maniacal range instructor’s disappearance. It was not a pleasant feeling to say the least. Sobering was a better word, and when he’d cooled from the rush of righteous outrage at the demon’s impertinence he’d realized that his actions had made him a very cold-blooded enemy.
Carson had not been sympathetic, to say the least.
Now Gunnery Sergeant Oscar Bardue had called him to Arena 77 to discuss the disposition of said range hand, whom he had been forbidden on pain of immediate termination to approach and vice-versa. This was what brought him to the Arena to talk to the “ boss” of the range crews. Or he was when Smythe wasn’t feeling the need to assert his official and unofficial authority amongst the gun monkeys. He bitterly reflected on the fact that the range crews had been some of his most staunch supporters, and on more than one occasion backup, whenever the threats of monsters, demons and things best left buried in the history of Dunwich cropped up. Now he couldn’t even get the lot of them to give him more than a dirty look or a dismissive snort.
The sixty-four year old black man named Oscar Bardue was settled into a chair at the control console for the Arena holographic emitters and ANTS bots when Englund walked in behind him. The old Marine glanced over his shoulder and nodded to Englund neutrally and gestured to the chair next to him. Bardue was simply plugging away at the computer program, setting in the variables for the upcoming exercise. Englund waited patiently as the fit old man in the golf shirt and khaki slacks finished what he was doing.
“Reverend.” Bardue said by way of greeting.
“Good evening Gunny,” Englund replied cautiously, “To what do I owe the meeting?”
“Bear with me for a minute while I get my daughter set up for her run.” Bardue turned and looked over the Arena area. “All right Caitlin, prep time’s up. The mission’s your standard shoot 'n scoot. Could be norms, could be mutants, could be Dragonslayers. Watch your ass and play it by the numbers. You have been targeted for attack and the objective is survival by any means necessary. This is a timed exercise to end when you are either terminated by enemy forces or the timer runs out, indicating an opening you can use to escape.”
Englund spoke when Bardue began powering up; looking over the holographic battleground seeking the person Bardue had been speaking to with the Arena P.A. system. There wasn’t anyone visible in the odd collection of trees, scattered wooden and concrete buildings and rocks. The ANTS robots powered up and immediately their holographic emitters kicked in, causing the skeletal robots to be sheathed in the image of an infantryman in full combat garb. Each one carried weapons, some light, and some heavy. “I wasn’t aware you had a daughter, Gunny.”
“God-Daughter actually. She’s in my custody after her Parents had some unfortunate occurrences.”
“Mutant child?”
“She’s about as mutant as they come.” Gunny punched in the codes and began to get the seeming soldiers moving in patrol formations. Englund knew from experience that the ones visible were just the beginning. More ANTS waited in the wings for deployment, and the fallen ones would retask for new missions if the combatants moved out of view.
“So why meet like this? I know you’re busy.” Englund was actuially curious.
“About eight or nine years go a young-blooded Lance Corporal wrote a tactical essay on the use of mutants in the military and the difficulties in combating them. That paper was classified Eyes-Only for four years before it was released to the general public. I’m sure you are familiar with it. ’mutant Shock and the Modern Infantryman' I believe it was called.”
Englund nodded. “I remember. It was very tongue-in-cheek, but very informative. I remember the Author’s name was given only as Jeckel. It detailed the use of mutants, and the means of combating them by baseline forces. I remember it because it took some of the more wild theories such as super-soldier programs and special military equipment like hand lasers and odd items like that and pitched them out the window. Mostly due to cost evaluation and poor resource use.”
Bardue nodded. “One of the core, underlying precepts of the paper though was the advent of ‘Mutant Shock.’ Rather akin to Tank Shock because to baseline troops at large, Mutants are terrifying. Able to shrug off withering gunfire, some capable of burning tanks to slag, or tear them apart with bare hands. Others are capable of blasting every neuron in all the brains of an entire platoon at a time, or twisting their minds to the mutant’s whim. This is something we can’t teach the kids here. We can’t teach them to fear because in their minds, they are to be feared on the battlefield, and by and large they are correct.”
“I know, I’ve read it, and I’ve seen first-hand what can come of baselines finding themselves at the mercy of one of us. It’s the primary reason why the MCO continues to exist and be a thorn in all of our lives.” Englund was thoughtful, wondering where this conversation was going. He also noticed that the ANTS patrols were doing their thing, and there was no sign of the mutant girl that Bardue claimed as his adoptive daughter.
“About a month and a half ago the kids got a taste of how bad things might get. No I’m not here to lecture you, nor point fingers. There’s been enough of that going around to last the next century.” Bardue watched the arena closely while he spoke. Englund breathed a sigh of relief that he wasn’t aware he’d been holding. Bardue hadn’t called him to offer ultimatums.
The arena erupted into chaos all at once, and Englund almost missed it. Four patrolling soldiers were torn apart by an explosion that erupted in the middle of their patrol route. A split-second later he saw the girl in street clothing burning with eldritch flame as she moved burst into and tear the ten-man formation to shreds before darting back into the cover of the brush, which seemed to be alternately burning, freezing or warping everything it touched, like reality was coming uncorked around her. Englund took a second to process the series of strikes and knife-slashes from an odd obsidian blade the girl was carrying. He couldn’t make out details, but she was tall, athletic and well-developed, and her hair was long, black and reflective. He idly looked to check the difficulty setting, an eight of ten. Most of the students and all but one or two of the staff would have been hard-pressed against ten opponents at the level eight setting.
“Impressive.” Englund breathed.
“This ain’t shit. But back to the original comments while I cut loose the next batch of ANTS. A month ago, one of the unknown co-authors of that very tongue-in-cheek paper went missing here at Whateley Academy. You and I knew him. Erik Mahren never was the most stable sonofabitch in the world I will admit, but he got hit hard Halloween. No one, not him, not you, and not even God, very likely could have predicted that sniper. One shot to kill his fiancée, probably one of the most powerful manifestors and avatars I have ever seen, and he lost it. He lost it to the point where Carson had to hold him down to keep him from continuing a suicidal rampage, and he only got worse.”
Englund didn’t respond, letting Bardue talk, watching as the new girl exploded from yet another batch of cover to engage another two of squads of ANTS in a running firefight that wound up with six of them down. The girl was wielding a four-foot-long belt-fed gun for this one, letting rip and emptying the belt and running like a bat out of hell as the ANTS gave chase, trying to shoot the girl who zigged and zagged from cover to cover like an old pro. She ran them straight into a building and went inside and shimmied up to the roof while the ANTS did a full tactical breach of the building, pouring inside. Once they were almost all in she started stomping on something on the rooftop, and the rooms began exploding as claymore mines sent ball bearing caroming off everything within. The girl was vicious, brutal, and she was leading the ANTS around by their noses.
“From there you know some things, you don’t know others. You know me and Wilson stopped him from gunning your ass down from behind when you came to the range to talk. You know Carson’s reaction to the whole thing was to tell you both you’d be terminated immediately if either approaches the other. What you probably don’t know is just how bad Mahren was getting when I finally kicked him to powers testing to see if we couldn’t rekindle a fire under his ass.”
“How bad did he actually get?” Englund was curious, as none of the range crew ever let it show when someone managed to get to them. Thus far Mahren was the exception.
“He doesn’t think I know about the drinking, or the nightmares, not all of which were born of Halloween. Mahren was riding the short bus to a complete breakdown, and of all the range crew, he’s the youngest, most decorated, and quite bluntly the most combat-experienced in the ways that count. Not a goddamned one of us want to see what he’s capable of pulling if he completely loses his cool. I know what you’re thinking, Wilson’s a Mutant, and he’s more than capable of keeping Mahren under control. Not a chance. Wilson goes buggy trying to puzzle out what’s running through that man’s mind. He is dangerous, unpredictable, and has a lot of nasty favors and strings he can pull to make someone miserable.”
“So what can I do about this? The man disappeared, Gunny, and I’ve been wondering if I’m being lined up for a sniper shot.”
“No. I can tell you you’re not. Jesus, that girl’s evil.”
“I missed it. What happened?”
“She took out the last of the standard opponents. Hit the menu and run the Dragonslayer simulation. Let’s kick the girl up a notch.”
Englund looked at Bardue a bit mystified. The Dragonslayers had been the bogeyman of the mutant community the world over for a span of about three years running. The rumors were rampant about who exactly the psychos were that were rumored to have tracked, attacked and killed somewhere in the neighborhood of fifteen powerful mutants using military weapons and tactics between 1997 and 2000, and that was just the list for which there was some evidence of their activity. Rumors from soldiers and a bootleg military video that circulated illegally gave life to the myth of the super-soldiers, or the MCO hit squad, or the Humans First! extermination team, or Army or Marine team tasked to murder mutants depending on which rumor being heard at the time. In the intervening six years, the stories and rumors died somewhat, but occasionally a spectacular military-style killing of a mutant would occur to re-ignite speculation and rumor all over again. Needless to say the Whateley Dragonslayer simulation was one of the most brutal and grueling simulation anyone could get stuck with solo.
“Just do it.” Bardue’s tone brooked no argument. “Unless I miss my guess she can handle it.”
“Where’s the Menu for this one again? It’s been almost two years since I’ve touched it.”
Bardue looked over at the console. “Red-threat scenarios, next to that folder marked ‘Scorched Earth.’”
Englund nodded and threw the simulation program in, to see seven ANTS dart out of the chute away from where the girl was holed up and hiding.
“I’m not telling you all of this to make you afraid that Mahren’s some kind of all-powerful bogeyman coming for your blood, Reverend. Far from it. He’s not the bogeyman, but he is dangerous as hell if we let him loose simply because he is unpredictable. He proved that Halloween Night and on several occasions backing up security, or you on one of your monster hunts. When I tell you that I don’t know what Mahren has done since he left my command in the corps, and the only thing I’m for sure on is he’s done some work for M-SOC, or Mutant Special Operations Command in the Corps, it’s to enlighten you as to the next part of our dilemma, and how you are going to help me solve it.”
“I’m listening.” Bardue had Englund’s undivided attention.
“When I sent Erik to powers testing he turned up as a mutant, but the markers were all wrong. Heavy metals in the blood, including raw cobalt, which is toxic as shit I might add. Not a single genetic marker matching any mutant trait, no psychic talent except a knack for picking all the wrong answers in the card test. All in all he should have been dead if his blood work is any indication. Now he destroyed a powerful magic item that got the magic monkeys into a tizzy, but it’s the side bits that on later analysis that are telling. Mahren apparently has some kind of spirit clinging to him that’s been feeding him... something. His knack for odd gear’s too omnidirectional to be natural. He wasn’t told about the spirit, which seems to have dug in like a tick on a vein, and Mahren’s got no signs of any avatar traits whatsoever.”
“You’re talking about a possession.” Englund looked thoughtful again.
“Yes and no. It turned Mahren into a mana sink according to the docs and the mages, and kept him alive to reach critical mass. Which he did reach, I must add. Erik Mahren literally exploded into a mystic fireball out on the hazard powers testing area. He survived, but his body was reforged into something else. He’s a mystic lightning rod, which brings me to Caitlin down there.”
Englund turned abruptly to see the girl get swarmed by four of the Ants, ducking and diving to get out of their line of fire, like she knew what was coming. The ANTS ran one-by-one and two-by-two in a confusing non-pattern that from outside was obviously a distraction while three others sporting heavy weapons slipped into position. Against most mutants the tactic would be confusing, overwhelming and in a word, devastating as it would set the mutant up for a shot by the rocket and machinegun-wielding heavy ANTS. She turned the tables by grabbing an ANT that got too close and tearing it’s weapon and arm away from it’s body, lining up and firing directly into the heavy ANTS. The launcher grenade killed two of them and she used the rifle to kill the other five on the run.
“That’s... She knew. She knew what they were doing.” Englund was amazed, as he’d seen a few mutant kids and one or two staff defeat this simulation, but they’d always done it by overpowering force and stealth. Caitlin had done it through foreknowledge and skill. “ That’s Mahren. That’s not a little girl, that’s where Mahren’s been hiding.”
Bardue turned to him and nodded as he released more standard ANTS. “ And now you know. She goes by Caitlin Bardue now, and she’s got a slew of problems to go with the new package, the least of which is the change in balance and center of gravity that have been driving her insane. Normally she’d be dropped in one of the cottages, but the cottage is getting crowded and she’s dangerously uncontrolled.”
“Why in the cottages? Why’s she still here?”
“Fair question. That spirit, that parasite thing that changed her is still with her, and insinuated to the point where separating them would probably kill her. She still doesn’t know about it, and I know what her reaction would be to it. I’d rather not have her die. But what it’s done is turn her into a mystic super-slave, ripe for the picking by any mage, demon or weird fucking critter that can recognize her particular ’mutation.' She’s here because if we leave her in the cold we may as well be cutting her throat ourselves. Whateley does not abandon its own, no matter how deserving.”
“You want me to protect her?”
“No. That task falls to other hands. What I want you to do, Englund is to stay the hell away from her. Don’t talk to her, don’t approach her. She’s got a lot on her mind and I’m going to do my level fucking best to drown her in problem after problem, dilemma after dilemma, task after task. She thrives under adversity, but I want her occupied. I don’t want her dwelling on Halloween, or who may or may not have caused it. So as far as you are concerned, she does not exist. As far as she is concerned, you do not exist as much as myself, the range crews and Carson can manage. So this means she will be ground into the dirt as hard as any student, she will get no special dispensations. Combat finals starts tomorrow, and most children with life-altering circumstances or trauma are excused. She won’t be.”
“That will be hard on her, especially with everything.” Englund gave Bardue a pleading look. “ I don’t want to cause her any more grief. If I see anyone targeting her about this... slave...” Englund spit out the word with extreme distaste, “ thing I will pass word to yourself or Carson. Like you said. Whateley protects it’s own.”
“And the rest?”
“I’ll stay clear of her. I won’t put my nose into her business.”
Bardue smiled for the first time since Englund arrived. “ Thank you Reverend. I appreciate that. It’ll let me concentrate on keeping her attention locked to where it needs to be and not on you. If we get a hint that she starts getting a wild hair in your direction, you will be the first to know. Make no mistake. You cost me two of my crew, but I’ve had about as much blood spilled on this school’s grounds as I can stomach. So you can relax, the specter of a mad marine with a gun has passed, but stay sharp. Even Fubar can’t say for sure what she’ll do next.”
“She’s about done. I think I’ll get out of here. I can’t make what happened to her right, but I can try not to make it worse.” Englund turned and left.
“You better motherfucker,” Bardue said to an empty room, “ I’m going to far too much trouble to protect your ass, even if we do need you around.”
Monday, December 11th, 2006
“All right, ladies and gentlemen, I suppose you are all wondering why I’ve gathered you here today.” Staff Sergeant Ryan Wilson snickered as the combat instructors came to order, less one or two bodies that were known to have screwed with the results of an official, graded match in combat finals before. The tall exemplar, Ex-Army Ranger was hardly the picture of Military precision in a shredded old workout T-Shirt and blue jeans that had seen better days.
“Shut yer hole and sit doun Wilson, 'ye pesky bugger,” Sergeant-Major Sean Burlington-Smythe of the British SAS (retired) said from his seat around the table.
“You got it Sergeant-Major.” Wilson sat down at the table and grinned at the other combat instructors, some of whom rolled their eyes at him, others chuckled.
Lillian Dennon, the aging brick instructor smirked at Wilson. “ We’re here because like every year we wait until the last possible moment to get together and discuss the Combat Finals and figure out who we’re dropping into the Crash.”
“Quite so,” interjected Ito, the short Japanese man who was in charge of organizing the Combat Finals this year. “ While I would prefer that we have the Crash mapped out long before we start the festivities I recognize that none of us have particularly much time at the end of semester and assigning the Crash at the beginning would be pointless. Never mind the necessity of balancing out certain... problematic students for whom random opponent assignments would place themselves or their opponents in unnecessary danger.”
“So which of the Grunts and Capes are we looking at throwing to the lions this year?” Chester Fitzgibbon, the local Shao-Lin Dragon style Kung Fu instructor asked. It was a fair question, showing the preference for the Crash contestants as being relatively solid.
“We aren’t.” Gunny Bardue stood up. “ Time for a shakeup folks. We’ve been lazy for the last few years and have been tapping the same two teams for the crisis matches in the Crash. So now we’ve been stuck with a situation where only the Grunts and the Capes are preparing properly for the kind of havoc and confusion that goes with the Crash runs. Normally we’d have Erik and Cat here to go over the info with us since I’ve been having Erik program the scenarios and Cat’s a good one to hit for information on the kids, but due to circumstances neither can be here.”
Most of the instructors traded dark looks at the mention of the losses of the two instructors. Cat McQuiston, also known as Backdraft had been a Lieutenant with LAPD before she joined Whateley Academy. She had been murdered by a sniper during the abortive Syndicate assault on the school. Erik Mahren’s disappearance and circumstances were a tightly held secret between the combat instructors and certain specific parties in the magic department and the administration. Not all of them were aware of the circumstances of Poe Cottage’s odd arrangements, but all of the instructors at the table were aware of Erik’s massive shift in status. None outside this circle, or Carson, Delarose, Hartford, Circe and Earth Mother were fully aware of that particular situation, and they intended to keep it that way.
“Since Erik and Cat can’t be here Wilson is Erik’s designated replacement and Smythe’s here because he can’t delegate his responsibility anymore.” Bardue continued on. “ Ito-Sama I’d like to return the floor to you so we can get the teams that are going to be hit hashed out, and who the matchups will be.”
Ito nodded to Bardue and looked to the assembled instructors. “ Since everyone is expecting the Grunts and the Capes to be a part of the difficult scenarios I propose we pick two of the freshman teams and tap their members for the demonstrations.”
A knock at the door sounded, prompting Harry Junzo, the advanced Aikido instructor and Telepath/Empath teacher to stand, walk to the door and open it. He smiled and bowed with genuine courtesy as Susannah Hagarty entered the room.
Amanda Tolman, Ito’s assistant instructor grinned. “ Welcome to the meeting Ms. Hagarty! I’m sure you know the usual suspects. Added to that we have Sergeant-Major Sean Burlington-Smythe, formerly of the Royal SAS...” She pointed to the fiery-haired Scotsman, “ and Staff Sergeant Ryan Wilson, formerly of the US Army Rangers. Both of them form the rest of our combat range crew and the sponsors of the Grunts team.”
“Pleased to meet you gentlemen.” Hagarty nodded and sat down in an empty seat between Junzo and Genevieve Beaumont, the petite Karate and Kempo instructor.
“Good. Now that we are all here, I believe explanations are in order. If you would explain to Ms. Hagarty about the Crash Scenarios, Staff Sergeant?” Ito cracked an evil little smirk as he put the Range Crew’s self-appointed slacker on the spot.
“You are an evil, evil old man, Ito,” Wilson grumbled as he stood.
“Yes, however, you volunteered to join these proceedings after avoiding them like the plague for eight years. So take your medicine like a good boy.”
“Evil old man.” Wilson looked at Hagarty and dropped the pretense of the slacker bum he let on for public consumption and straightened, unconsciously shifting to parade rest as he spoke, hands locked behind him at his waist. “All right. I’m a bit new to this as Ito said. Normally me compadre, Corporal Mahren would be playing the show here. But he’s out, so I got nominated.”
Hagarty nodded and watched as the tall exemplar continued.
“The Crash, by my limited understanding, is a series of events snaked into the combat finals in order to prove a point, or teach a lesson. The most common lesson being 'you are not invulnerable' the second most common being the need to improvise in any situation. We deliberately pick out two or three teams each year for the Crash and hand select the ones who we are really testing and their opponents. Normally we’d be tapping the Grunts and the Capes, or our Military aspirants and the future hero crowd in case you weren’t already aware, but this year we’re looking for a shakeup.” The professional demeanor dropped for an instant as he smirked. “ Our esteemed leaders have been making us wait with baited breath to see who our victims will be this year.”
Hagarty nodded. “ So we are looking at a high-threat and difficulty level in these proceedings.”
“Correct.” Ito nodded and motioned Wilson to take a seat, flashing a look of mock-annoyance as the Ranger lounged back in his chair, beach-bum demeanor fully reassumed. “ In fact I called you here because after much deliberation between myself, Gunny Bardue, Mrs. Dennon and Mr. Junzo, one of the two teams will be the infamous Team Kimba, including your student, Nikki Reilly, or Fey as the codename goes.”
Hagarty nodded as Ito addressed Bardue. “ And have you determined which of the heavy simulator teams might fit our needs?”
The old black man smirked and nodded. “ The team I’m looking at, with your approval is Outcast Corner, or the Outcasts for short. Their lineup is Jericho, a Devisor/Gadgeteer with no other real powers of note and a knack for mayhem. As a side note, he’s blind. The second is Diamondback, a heavy GSD kid from Whitman. Exemplar, basic magey type, real low key, and from the reports very shy and very fast reflexes.” He continued as Ito nodded. “ Last on the official team roster is Razorback who is also severely GSD, our former star Ultraviolent Speedster who used to be our resident King of Detention. The three have been running the Active track on the Sims for a bit over a month now, and they’ve got a knack for unconventional tactics as well as a driving need to thumb their noses at the established social order.”
Ito nodded. “ I see no reason not to include them. This is the group that has adopted Caitlin Bardue then?”
“That’s the one. I have her listed as a tentative auxiliary for the Outcasts pending her choices in the future. I’m also going to drop her into the Crash. Got to come up with her opponents for the scenario.”
Fitzgibbon looked up. “ Why don’t we begin with Team Kimba? Who is their team leader?”
“If anyone can figure that out for sure I would be most grateful for the information.” Ito nodded. “ However, Hank Declan, or Lancer seems to be their tactics man.”
“Ok, let’s start with him then.” Beaumont punched up a file on her computer. “Hank Declan, one of the Poe kids, obviously. We have discussed him before. Basic superman package, intelligent and has a good head on his shoulders. He’s also making some innovative leaps in the use of the TK field he has according to the notes someone added to the file.”
Lillian Dennon spoke up. “ Those would be my notes actually. I’ve been following the boy’s progress for some time and he shows promise. He would certainly be a fine example in the upcoming exercise, although I would recommend using him as part of the challenge rather than be the one tested.”
Ito nodded. “ I concur. Let us leave Lancer aside for now and move on. Next would be Toni Chandler, or Chaka. She is one of the core members of Team Kimba, and we have already discussed how she is problematic to teach.”
Wilson raised his hand. “ Problematic? How’s that?”
Gunny Bardue answered. “ Chaka’s some kind of martial arts wizard, manipulates energy so she can pull some straight anime style stunts. Finding sparring partners who can whup her is a bitch and a half.”
Wilson nodded and flipped through some pages on a clipboard, then took out a pen and wrote something down. He stood and walked over to Ito and handed him the clipboard. “ Disaster Zone scenario anyone? With an added twist. She likes anime, then let’s give her something anime to play with.”
Ito looked at the clipboard and began to nod approvingly. “ And here we were thinking you would not have much to contribute. You seem to have a knack for sadistic scenarios.”
“Hey, what can I say? It’s me. The names for the other combatants in that run are on the back page.” Wilson sat back down.
“Very good, this is most acceptable.”
“So which other 'o these kids will we be tossin' tae the lions?”
“For Tennyo we have no choice.” Ito pushed a button on a remote control beside him and a picture of Tennyo appeared on a wall screen. “ Her powers are at such a level that we cannot safely throw her in a match with another student and hope they survive.”
There were a string of nods around the table and Kasai Tetsuko, the kempo teacher spoke. “ Perhaps she should take part in our final scenario. The Mob assault.”
“That was my thought. Carson’s also, and she’s said we are to place Tennyo in the Mob assault scenario.” Ito turned to the other teachers. “ Any objection to this?”
No voices were raised, no objections uttered.
“Now, Jade, Ayla and shroud of Team Kimba are either odd enough, or not powerful enough that I could be justified in throwing them into a crash scenario. Jade is, on her own, more clever than she lets on and is a constant source of low-grade mayhem. Shroud is odd enough that none of the crash scenarios would significantly threaten her, as she is, according to sources, already dead.” Ito let a slight smirk as he talked. It was matched by most of the instructors; Wilson was oddly enough one of them.
“What you smirking at Wilson?” Bardue groused.
“Jade. I have been coaching that little girl on her pistolwork for a little while now. Wasn’t expecting her to shoot Little Princess Walcutt, but I can’t fault her aim.”
“Indeed.” Ito turned. “ And I hesitate to give Ayla, or Phase as she is called the added attention of a particularly challenging scenario as it may bring even more attention to her than we have already seen. This leaves Fey and Bladedancer, whom I have lumped into the Kimbas due to the fact she spends so much time among them.”
“What about that Sara girl?” Mrs. Dennon asked. “ The one Englund has such a fit over all the time. Isn’t she a Kimba?”
“Nope. I have the team rosters right here...” Bardue flipped through a stack of papers. “ ...and Miss Waite is listed in a separate team, one of the usual hodgepodges, but I’ve been tapping her for some side work keeping the Grunts and other power teams on their toes.”
Ito smirked. “ We will have to deal with the question of Miss Waite in a moment anyway.”
Fitzgibbon looked annoyed. “ Bladedancer shouldn’t be in the crash. She’s not even a mutant and the only reason she’s here is that bloody sword.”
The other instructors rolled their collective eyes and nodded. Fitzgibbon was a good teacher but he still hadn’t forgiven or forgotten his pasting at the hands of Guan-Yu.
“On the contrary, sir.” Ito smiled wickedly. “ That is precisely why we will use her in the Crash. Most mutant children are so secure in their own superiority they don’t take into account an exceptional baseline factor. I believe Chou Lee will enlighten them otherwise.”
“So who’ll be the cocky bugger we throw 'er at Ito?” Smythe looked curious.
“You have summed up the criteria aptly if ineloquently.” Smythe just grinned at the little Japanese man in response.
“Right then, les' see if we can round us up a wee bugger for the fall. Who do we hae on the 'needs tae be taken down a peg' list?”
Wilson looked up. “ One candidate would be a kid named Bardue, Oscar C. Apparently the guy couldn’t find his ass with both...”
“Shut up Wilson before I take your skinny Exemplar ass out back behind the woodshed.” The old black man shook his head at the other range instructor.
“Yes Grandpa.” Wilson’s voice had a ’subdued and contrite redneck' inflection to it.
“Nex.”
Everyone turned to Tolman. “ Hey, don’t look at me like that! But my gut tells me Nex.”
“I’m sorry, but isn’t Nex a junior? The one who allegedly attacked Fey by ambush?” Hagarty looked concerned.
Ito smiled. “ That’s the beauty of the Crash. Anything goes. Besides, I don’t think there’s a person in this room who wouldn’t mind watching Nex get pounded into the ground by one of the mere baselines he holds in so much contempt.”
“Think she can do it, hoss?” Wilson leaned forward, suddenly serious. “ Nex gets a wild hair and that girl could be spending the rest of her life in a wheelchair. Even though we can’t prove it me'n Mahren figured he’s been responsible for over fifteen crippling attacks on baseline humans, and two near-misses against baseline teachers. The hits fit his M.O. but we haven’t been able to find evidence on the little prick.”
“Why do you think the attacks fit his M.O.?” Hagarty asked.
“We think he’s the little shit that knifed Mahren just shy and high of a kidney about two years ago. No blade, or really measurable blade type, ergo psiknife or a TK knifehand. Whoever it was tried to steal one of the Aegis loaders that Mahren had just packed away in the high-security area. He couldn’t break the system and he almost got his ass shot off by Erik. Nex was REAL careful not to let anyone see bare skin on his left leg for a while.”
Ito nodded. “ Suspicions aside, myself and I imagine Mrs. Wong would imagine the girl capable of defeating Nex if she’s been paying attention to her training.”
“This brings us to Fey.” Hagarty smiled. “ I expect anyone expecting the pretty princess to be helpless will be in for a rather rude shock. Over the past couple months she has shown vast improvements to her ability to handle her own in hand-to-hand. While I’d not match her against an exemplar just yet in hand-to-hand she shows promise.”
“And her magic abilities?” Ito looked at her expectantly.
“Now I wish you had asked Wallace to come, but give me a moment.” Hagarty leaned back in her chair and considered how to answer. “ I believe I will have to go with the words of a young man not too many days ago. 'If she’s not careful she’ll wind up blowing a hole in the world.' I’m sorry, but my evaluation is better for martial arts. Magics are really not where I am knowledgeable.”
“Your instincts?” Ito pressed.
“Based on what I’ve seen her do I’d say she’s fully capable of vaporizing a tank or making a skyscraper explode, all at once or level-by-level.”
Wilson let out a low whistle. “ Now THAT’s a dilemma. Mages start getting really foul to deal with at the WIZ-four-mark. I’m assuming she’s higher?”
“From what I understand, yes, easily.”
The instructors started talking and Wilson held a hand up. “ Hang on folks. I might have something here. Cat McQuiston said something about nukes and cockroaches... You can kill anything with a nuke except a cockroach. The only sure way to kill one is to stomp on it.”
“How does that help?” Ms. Beaumont asked.
Smythe was the first to catch on, and he started chuckling evilly. “ Mule. Good thinkin' laddie.”
Ito looked at Wilson, mildly confused. “ Are we missing something here? Mule is an exceptional student but I hardly think a TK brick is the answer.”
Wilson grinned. “ No, you’re not missing, it was figured out just after we got the kid into the Grunts. We all know about the little fact that his TK field is far more heavy-handed defensively than it is offensively even for a TK brick, but what’s not obvious is interlaced with the PK is heavy-ass psychic and mystic shielding. Or it’s the same thing if you listen to Fubar talk. He’s a damned cockroach, can’t just nuke him. You have to step on him.”
“How effective are those shields Wilson?” Tolman gave him with a strange look.
“Not as effective as Jimmy Trauger’s Psychic null. Trying to break Mule’s shields only gives the almighty Fuub a slightly less intense migraine than trying to read JT’s brain.”
“In other words,” Bardue smirked, “ if we throw him in with Fey she’s going to need to find a rather large boot to stomp him with.”
“Very well. Your cockroach scenario will be used.” Ito looked up. “ I suggest we take fifteen minutes for a slight break before discussing what to do with the Outcasts.”
There wasn’t much conversation as the instructors stood up to stretch, get some air or use the bathroom. It only took a few minutes for everyone to filter back to the room, and the whole ordeal was getting time-critical. Breakfast would be served in two scant hours, and then Ito would have to join Carson for the proceedings.
“All right, before we move on we should probably address Sara Waite since someone brought her up.” Tolman looked up as she continued. “ She’s one of our local problem children and I doubt we want to give her a whole lot of time and attention in the arena. Too many folks gunning for her.”
“We could always throw her and Caitlin at each other. I’d be curious to see who kicks who’s ass.” Wilson’s comment was idle and offhand and he wasn’t expecting Bardue’s response.
“Absolutely not!” The old Marine snapped off rapidly. “ We will not be deliberately tossing Caitlin into any situations where she has to play confrontations with mages, avatars of old gods or Class-X entities until after she’s gotten her powers and her confidence under control. Is that clear?”
It was abrupt, it was unexpected by anyone, and it got the point across in no uncertain terms. All of the instructors were intelligent enough to hear the sharp note of fear that went into his voice when he’d cut Wilson off, which meant there was more to that little story than he intended to tell.
“Well, since we be talkin' boot tae Outcasts anyway, why no' throw Jericho at Sara?” Sergeant-Major Smythe suggested mildly. “ I don’t think the demon-girl would have problems beatin' our wee blind laddie.”
Ito nodded. “ While Jericho shows promise I don’t believe he could do much to prolong a match with Miss Waite.”
Wilson and Bardue, as well as Kasai all sat there like beached fish with their jaws gaping and trying to comprehend what was just said. Finally it was Wilson who engaged his brain and mouth at the same time. He even got the words right too.
“I think that would be a flawed premise for putting any of the Outcasts into a fight Ito, sir.” Wilson looked at Bardue, who nodded. “ I gotta say, I respect your opinion, totally, but I’ve seen the Outcasts in all-out rumbles as a team and as individuals and you won’t find an easy fight in any one of them, including Jericho.”
“Go on.” Ito gave Wilson a patient look.
“Look Jericho alone doesn’t look or seem like much, and more often than not he gets pasted by his opponents, but when was the last time anyone got a quick takedown on him? He digs in like a tick and doesn’t let go. Even the Grunts and the Capes have a hard time with him. He’s underdeveloped, sure, he’s blind. Ok, but he’s also canny, intelligent and stubborn as an ox. I’ve seen him stalemate guys like Breaker or who are on the same level mystically as Hekate for orders of minutes, using nothing but minor Devisor stunts that everyone’s seen, most of them Johnny-one-shots and he’s always got a new stunt to pull.”
Kasai nodded. “ I concur. Jericho may be limited physically, but he has more tricks than a Swiss army knife and the will to use them.”
Wilson nodded. “ Now don’t get me wrong, given what I’ve seen I don’t think he’ll win, but I think he’ll be able to drag it out so that your idea of denying Sara the spotlight gets flushed.”
Ito nodded. “ Your point is clear and taken, however I think Jericho will be the one to place against Miss Waite in the Combat Finals.”
“I got fifteen minutes duration on this one,” Wilson said as he held up a fifty, “ any takers?”
“I believe you are correct but unduly optimistic,” Kasai replied. “Thirteen minutes.”
“You’re on.”
Ito moved on smoothly, ignoring Wilson’s betting and bluster as simply as he had ignored Mahren’s before him. “ Next on the Outcast blotter is Jericho’s confirmed partner in crime, Razorback. This is not a crash test in the traditional sense. This is simply to determine who to throw him at that will survive the encounter if Razorback rages, which is worthy of a Crash in and of itself.”
Junzo looked up. “ Well there’s always Jimmy Trauger. The two of them are friends, they both heal at a phenomenal rate, and they’re both Ultraviolents.”
Ito considered carefully. “ I see that fight going nowhere and quickly.”
Junzo smiled. “ Give 'em a time limit and see if they cope. Fifteen minutes should be enough for those two to have a chance to gross out the crowd with some truly visceral combat.”
Ito nodded. “ And it neatly bypasses the need to discuss Mister Trauger. Two birds, one stone. Very well. On another note, make this one a Crash test, as it will illustrate what happens when the unstoppable maw meats the inedible object.”
Wilson groaned. Damn, Ito, I had no idea you were capable of being such a painful wiseass.”
Ito shrugged. “ Not everything I do revolves around Martial Arts, you know.”
“Diamondback’s the next one.” Gunny Bardue smirked. “ Let’s give her the unwanted allies scenario. Program the fight for an attack by Deathlist or something. Worst case scenario.”
“Who do we give as her unwanted ally?” Wilson grinned.
Ito spoke without pausing. “ Hekate will do.”
I said it before, and I’ll say it again. Frequently. You are an evil, evil old man.” Wilson’s voice echoed the opinions of everyone in the room. “By the way, Gunny, I got the perfect scenario for our queen of the Alphas.”
Ito looked over. “ How difficult?”
Wilson smiled. “ Dragonslayer simulation, max difficulty. The one Erik wrote.”
Ito smiled. “ And here I was thinking you’d be a less than apt contributor, Staff Sergeant. I will expect you at all further crash meetings, as well as accepting my invitation to join us for tea to discuss the students' progress in the future.”
Wilson had been had and he knew it. He’d just failed to weasel out of additional responsibilities at the school that Erik and Cat had snaked around, and now he was stuck for it. “ I look forward to it, sir.”
“Good. Now this brings us to our virtual unknown here, Caitlin, your 'adopted daughter' gunny.”
“Make sure to throw another cockroach here.” Wilson sat up. “ Nobody here knows what she can do.”
Suzannah Hagarty looked up from some notes she was taking, looking rather surprised. “How do you know someone and teach them yet have no idea what they can do?”
Ito looked at Hagarty. “ Since Caitlin, and I know you are familiar with her previous incarnation as you helped Westmont bring her back after the explosion on the hazard range, arrived at Whateley six years ago she has been rather closemouthed about her experiences and what she is capable of. She taught heavy weapons superbly, but no one here has seen her cut loose and go all out save for a few odd sensor images from Halloween.”
Hagarty looked thunderstruck. “ Wait, you mean you had a teacher you knew virtually nothing about?”
Wilson shook his head. “ No, we know a lot, like Carson didn’t like having Caitlin on-campus for the first two years. He... She used to spar with me, and she concentrated solely on how long she could survive without taking a solid hit, not beating me.”
Bardue spoke up, “ And Wilson’s an exemplar six. We know she’s better at taking on mutants than she is baselines. We’ve had one or two incidents with the kids over the years, and he... she beat them, but I still have him cold in hand-to-hand and fencing, and I’m a sixty year old man.”
Wilson piped back in. “ And now she’s gone straight to Exemplar 4 level with a tentative max of 1200 pounds, but the test results are a bit skewed by her accidentally destroying the weights, and a magic aura she has ZERO control over.”
Ms. Dennon added her two cents. “ Add to this she will NOT go all out against the students that are her erstwhile classmates, and she has at least one known psychological issue that she was being medicated for before leaves us with no way to accurately gauge what we’re dealing with, baseline or otherwise. Except to mention that she uses that godawful Military hodgepodge of Karate, boxing, judo and jujitsu.”
Hagarty nodded. “ Well in our sparring match this... student showed a high degree of competence with her chosen fighting style. She has adapted certain aspects of Greco-Roman High School Wrestling and some rugby-type maneuvers. How many years of experience would you say she has with hand-to-hand?”
Bardue shrugged, “ I worked with her for a year and a half, and she sucked at Hand-to-Hand in a way that was sad. So assuming a sudden shift in her ability I’d say no more than two years of practical application and then six years as an instructor here at Whateley.”
Ito nodded as Hagarty frowned. “ Now you see our dilemma here.” He turned to the others. “ I propose we use Lancer as one of her opponents for the Crash Scenario Gunny Bardue has suggested. I will tap Hippolyta for the other opponent. Her scenario should finally give us a fairly solid idea what the girl is capable of should she choose to push herself. The choice of her opponents should allow her to do so without fear for their safety.”
Bardue nodded. “ All right, now for our other problem children. We need to decide if the following need their opponents chosen, or left in the random pool due to problems. First up is Bloodwolf...”
“The jury is back, the verdict is in. Watching paint peel is in fact unexciting as all get out.” Caitlin indulged in a bit of talking to herself. Unfortunately with nothing else to do for hours on end except maybe destroy a computer by accident... There weren’t too many other options.
Caitlin Bardue found herself in the odd position of being flopped out on her bed, on her back, from side-to-side with her head dangling off the edge, staring at the wards and runes scattered all over the room at odd angles. Her dark hair was pooling in a metallic mass on the floor below her head, and the thought of brushing out that particular mop did not exactly bring a girlish giggle to her thoughts. Cleaning the melted plastic out of her hair had been a real bitch, and she’d had to move to a metal brush she’d made out of some sheet metal with a file in a really bored moment. Neither did the prospect of another day of school at Whateley Academy fill her with joy.
Oh sure, the school was cool enough, and interesting enough that she’d have loved to have come when she was younger. That was the key word though, younger. Despite her appearance to the contrary, the metal-haired, steel-disc-eyed artificer of Whateley Academy was almost thirty years old, and a far cry from the burgeoning fountain of social drama that most girls were in their teen years. Never mind the prospect of going back to high school after a truly nightmarish stint in the military, six years as a teacher at said high school, and an involuntary, likely irreversible sex change did not exactly appeal.
Then there was the energy corona, her own, personal mystical lightshow that snapped and blazed whenever she moved. It also frequently hurt like a motherfucker and the only time it ever left off was when she sat completely still, or was safely ensconced in the double-ward barrier in her room and on her clothing in the utility sheds. Unfortunately, sitting still for long periods drove her absolutely buggy. She felt at peace when she was up, moving and doing things, but she only got a respite from pain when she wasn’t.
The alarm clock began shrieking its message of wakeup from its place by the three computers set up in a line on the desk. All three were virtually untouched because she didn’t want to risk annihilating them so no escaping into the world of GEO for her. Fortunately the piercing wail of the alarm announced an ungodly morning hour that the security goons wouldn’t be questioning her as to why she was still awake at all hours of the night. The whole not being able to sleep more than an hour at a time really sucked.
“All right, all right, shaddup!” She wandered over and slapped the snooze button, momentarily forgetting she was a lot stronger and shattered the plastic contraption on the desk. “ Oh fucking brilliant. What’ll you do next, kill someone’s puppy?”
Four AM was hardly a human hour to be awake unless you were a complete nutcase, a marine or a teacher at the Academy. Unfortunately, Caitlin was all three, or was until mid-November when her life took a severe turn for the weird. Now she was just a nutcase. She even had the documentation to prove it, courtesy of Uncle Sam.
The storage sheds that were her erstwhile dorm room were not exactly what one would call homey, but it suited her, except for the rampant storm of glyphs and sigils that took up every square inch of wall space in order to suppress the magic corona effect that erupted whenever she moved faster than your average garden slug. The heavy wards on her clothing picked up most of the slack, nearly completely suppressing it to the point where she could function normally. Nearly being the word because any kind of strong emotions, especially rage and frustration brought the corona back full-bore. When she was walking about in her clothing it was a nonstop thing, and when she started getting freaked it erupted into a nightmare storm of energy that pretty much did whatever the hell it felt like to the surrounding landscape. She didn’t even want to think about what would happen were she to get caught in the open without either form of protection. There had been a few near-misses in the short weeks since she began hanging out with the Outcast crew on a regular basis in the form of anxiety attacks when she thought about her situation too hard, or started dwelling on Halloween.
As she stepped out of her room and began the long, circular walk around Whateley, she refused to think of it as a patrol, the corona ripped back to life. Filling her existence with the joys of odd lights, weird effects, spooky sounds and the occasional searing pains, the energy was a stark reminder that she was awake and alive. Whether that was a good thing she preferred to leave to the philosophers. Her situation would likely have been a lot more tolerable had Carson been a few seconds later in peeling her out of the cockpit of the Syndicate assault ship while screaming, foaming at the mouth and blowing shit up.
She killed that line of thought as soon as it started. Dwelling on the past wasn’t healthy in her case, her own past or the nightmare flashes and memories of lives past being torn apart and turned into a horror. Sometimes she found herself wishing for a clean slate of memory to match the new appearance, but the thought of losing the memories of the people she loved and had loved at one time or another was somehow even more painful even if they were dead or wanted nothing more to do with her.
“All right, what to do, what to do...” She began walking at a fair clip, watching the ground while she thought, a habit she’d picked up as a kid when she tried to figure things out. “ Take a walk, and then finish up at the armory. Maybe clean up all my old Corps shit for when they get a new instructor.”
Her time in the Marines was neither a time of joy, nor a source of sea stories to tell over a beer except with the few men still alive who had been there with her, fighting like madmen to stay alive against the storm of combat that raged around them nearly continuously it seemed while the rest of the nation carried on, blissfully unaware of the nightmares lived in their name. The few peaceful memories from that time were marred by the many funerals attended, the constant suspicious eyes of her commanding officers, and the haunted stares of those few with her who knew that their time on the earth would likely be measured in breaths once the shooting inevitably started. Felicis Fossor, “Lucky Fools,” had been the motto of a few good men who tried to live the Corps motto of Semper Fidelis, “ Always Faithful.”
It seemed that every time she looked for happy memories she wound up sliding back to that time six years ago that she had been approached by Gunny Bardue, who had been her platoon sergeant at one time, with an offer that would pay the bills and maybe help her find some measure of peace if not redemption. Teaching at Whateley Academy had been the most rewarding time in her life, and had gone a long way in healing old wounds. She had made friends, and taught children the grim methods of surviving in a world with assholes like her. Most of them were alive still, even if they weren’t on the side of light and right, but it worked well for her. Besides, if she’d never come to Whateley she’d have never met Cat, and she wouldn’t trade those happy memories for anything, even some way of numbing the emotional pain.
She began feeling better as she began her circle of the campus, and thought about the day before. Ito’s little speech about combat finals had thoroughly failed to pique her interest or awe as it had so many other students. She’d heard it a dozen times before, hell she’d given it before, but while she was trying to doze off through it Razorback had kept elbowing her so she wouldn’t miss “ the big event.” The Outcasts had been pulling some medical evaluations and doing the legwork to get Cait added to their team roster during most of their classes, so had to attend the “ make-up” briefing. The oversized lizardman was nothing short of gleeful at the prospect of a good row at the end of the semester. She could forgive him, however, since he wasn’t exactly privy to that information. The long and short of it was she doubted that Carson would allow her into the arena with a student under those circumstances, plus she qualified as a person with a major, life-altering exemption to the whole combat finals gig. Exploding and waking up with boobs isn’t something one writes off as just another thing, no matter how hard she tried.
That almost set off another string of melancholy thought when she saw something shiny. She looked and grinned as she realized it was a watch face reflecting the dim lighting, not thirty yards away, attached to a guy carrying an attaché case who was looking at her and trying not to look nervous about the fact that he’d been spotted. Caitlin would love to think herself a mature, semi-functional human, but her time at Whateley had given her a true love for fucking with the recruiters who thought they were slick enough to get onto campus unseen, catch a particular student, or set of students alone and pitch them the recruiting spiel. CIA, FBI, NSA, it didn’t really matter. She just loved to embarrass the stupid bastards. It was like crack for her. Once had never, ever been enough.
Her worries forgotten, Caitlin waved to the man and flashed a smile then continued on while her quarry relaxed. Of course no student would question the presence of an adult in a suit on-campus. Kids aren’t that jaded. Pity for him that she wasn’t just another kid. Plus it was the added bonus that they seemed to think coming early was a good idea to avoid pricks like her. She’d gotten really good at catching them right under the noses of the students and security over the last six years.
Caitlin darted into the cottage the man was waiting by, and had a look-see. Poe. She hadn’t realized she’d gone so far off her beaten path. Of the teachers she was one of the few fully appraised of the situation at Poe, mostly because she guessed and asked Bardue and Carson why they’d quarantined the gay and lesbian crowd away from everyone else. The answers made sense even if they were a bit off the Politically Correct, and somewhat shortsighted in her opinion.
One broom handle and a roll of duct tape later and she was out of the cottage with none the wiser, and began giggling to herself maniacally as she began planning this poor schlep’s fate on the fly.
“I gotcha now you stupid jackass.”
The window being open was bad, but Nikki’s tossing, turning and making weird noises was too much at this ungodly hour. Chaka hadn’t exactly been a light sleeper before her mutation kicked in, but one sound outside of “ normal” and she was up and alert like nobody’s business. The sound was suspiciously akin to a woman giggling to herself in a way that could only be described as disturbed. It took her a moment to realize that her elfin roomie’s oddball noises weren’t, in fact, the source of the maniacal giggling. There was a god. Unfortunately God had a sense of humor in that Fey’s voice cracked up in a maniacal mirror of the giggling she had heard before. It just didn’t sound the same.
“I gotcha now you stupid jackass.” The mumbled words were clear and creepy enough from the little redhead, but the flash of bright light outside the window and muffled yelp of fear from below were just TOO much!
“Nikki wake up.” The statement was obviously too quiet and Nikki was notorious for being a slow learner when the need to wake up came around.
Chaka hopped off the bunk, leaned over the Elfin Princess, cupped her hands around her mouth, and did an impression of a bullhorn. “ You in the red hair! Pull over and produce your license to create havoc, and a photo ID!”
Nikki jerked upright with a freaked expression on her face and a yelp, breathing hard and looking wildly around for the danger. Seeing only her semi-maniacal roommate, she started, then predictably reacted as any young, tired, silver-blooded Sidhe noble who had just been woken up halfway into the night would. She whined.
“Come on, Chaka, it’s four in the freaking morning!”
“Yeah, and you’re doing weirdness to people in your dreams again! Put some clothes on. We need to go make sure you didn’t hurt anyone.” Chaka seemed mildly annoyed.
“Huh?” Yes the young redhead was not so quick on the uptake in the early A.M. hours.
“Look Nikki, I know you and Unga-Dunga like to commune with the Force or whatever it is you do when you sleep, but I distinctly heard you say 'I Gotcha now you stupid jackass', then I saw a flash of freaky blue light, and some dude yelped. I think you might’ve hit one of the security monkeys.”
“Oh shit.” Nikki was out of bed and scrambling to get her clothes on in a flash, suddenly wide awake and moving. It was probably one of the few times she moved with motivation and purpose before breakfast in the morning.
“Yep, that about sums it up!” Chaka hopped up and blitzed into her clothes, finishing before the elfin redhead was even halfway done. “ Look on the bright side! If you make the ultraviolent list because of this, they’ll probably give you a purple armband, accessorizing don’tcha know?”
“You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Oh you have no idea.”
The two girls were met in the hall by Hank in the common room, unexpectedly. He came thumping down the hall with an irritated look in his eye. The boy actually looked somewhat mature with the scowl on his face, the green workout T-shirt and camouflage pants with boots. He saw the two girls and his expression softened a bit.
“You two hear the weirdness outside?”
“Yep! And we figure it’s either Nikki magicking people in her sleep, or we get to go round two with some ninjas!” Chaka’s grin was enthusiastic as she bounced out the door.
“We do?”
Nikki shook her head, shrugged her shoulders and the two followed their hyperactive teammate out the door. They found the spot where the flash occurred and Nikki stopped cold. The Ley lines here weren’t travelling in a completely normal pattern on the East side of Poe Cottage. Hank and Chaka moved outward, looking for signs of the poor schlep that Nikki had supposedly zapped in her dreams.
Upon closer inspection the lines were twisted, knotted and warped in odd patterns. She’d seen this over the past two or so weeks around campus off and on. Lines knotted in a twist and power hanging, half-spent in the aether. Each time she laid eyes on the phenomena she’d gotten a creeping feeling of recognition, like she’d seen this before. It felt like a disruption in the natural flows more than a deliberate and controlled spellcasting. Even in her worst moments she never knotted the flows, bent them, caused them to redirect, but never to knot up. Earth Mother and Circe had dismissed the phenomena whenever she asked about it, but still that odd feeling of familiarity was there.
Careful child, this area is charged, but with what I’m not certain.
“Do you have any idea what caused this? It feels familiar.” Nikki had gotten used to Aunghadhail’s omnipresent participation in her thoughts over the last month, and speaking to the shade of the ancient Sidhe queen hardly felt unusual anymore, even if it WAS extremely aggravating at times.
It does. It’s like an echo, one I’m not sure even I can recall. This feels old, and powerful, and I’ll hazard that whatever is causing it is not exactly in control at the moment. This kind of knotting is usually only caused by someone completely bereft of control, some form of mystical disaster, or a monumental fool.
“Not one of those possibilities is very comforting.” Nikki followed the lines to a spot on the wall where the concrete looked like it had melted and run like wax, leaving a semi-opaque, glassy substance around what looked like a large, but feminine handprint embedded in the concrete. Whoever had made that had hands almost as big as Hippolyta’s.
Be cautious, child. I can still sense whatever did this in the area. Leave the tangles for now. They will revert to normal of their own accord in the next day or so. The damage is not severe.
Nikki didn’t get the chance to agree or argue when Hank let out a sharp whistle, pointing at the snow nearby. The two girls joined him, and they looked at the ground. Both Nikki and Toni blinked for a moment to process what they were seeing, but there it was. A patch of ground that looked like it had been torn up in some kind of struggle, and what looked literally like liquid glass rippling in the snow-divot-patches.
“Ok, now this is weird even for you Nikki. What’d you do, eat after midnight again?” Chaka looked over; noting the drag marks on the ground, indicating someone or something had dragged a struggling captive away from the cottage into the woods.
“I didn’t do it.” Fey shook her head. “ I never jacked up the magic inherent in an area like whatever did this. It’s like someone took all the Ley lines and decided to play cat’s cradle with them at random.”
“Never mind when you zap someone, your hobgoblins don’t wear women’s sneakers and drag people into the brush.” Hank turned and began slowly following the path of the drag marks, keeping a sharp eye out for anything, interposing his body between the two girls even as he waved Toni to the flank to cover both him and Fey. The Kimbas had learned some hard lessons over the past months about fighting. One of the foremost items on the team’s agenda was keeping enemies off the elfin redhead long enough to bring her considerable mystical power to bear. Once Fey started slinging the magics in earnest, things tended to fold over and go crunch, and when combined with Tennyo’s raw firepower, Hank’s near-invulnerability, Chaka’s insane martial arts, Phase’s wiliness and Jade’s knack for sheer mayhem things tended to get very rude, very quickly for the opposition. God forbid Sara or Chou decided to tag along and help.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence Hank.” Fey slid into a watchful rearguard as Hank crept forward.
Chaka had disappeared on the sides and was far from being the kooky, bouncy, hyper girl she normally was. She actually paid attention when Hank started making moves like he expected trouble. While he wasn’t exactly the leader, he had the best head for applied tactics in their group and, unlike them, had received a crash course in fighting actual military when he had first manifested his mutation.
As it turned out, the caution wasn’t so necessary, but what they found left them standing with their mouths wide open in shock.
A man was hanging from a tree branch, damn near mummified in duct tape. As they watched in stunned disbelief, one shoe abruptly fell off as he violently gyrated in mid-air trying attempting to wiggle free as the tape writhed unnaturally around him.
Muffled yelps of distress could be faintly discerned from the man as the empty briefcase bounced slightly upwards and snapped at the man’s socked foot. A small swarm of yellow Post-It Notes circled the man much like moths would circle a naked lamp bulb on a hot summer night. Pamphlets and brochures were affixed as if someone had decided to ’tar and Feather’ the poor man with the contents of his violent briefcase.
Hank noted absently that someone had used a horde of smaller stick tabs that read, ‘signature’ and ‘confidential’ across the mans lower jaw in such a manner to give him a red and green paper beard. The more disturbing part of the man’s discomfiture was the message written in bright green friendly letters upon his forehead saying: I DRINK PEE.
Suddenly it seemed very unlikely that Nikki had anything to do with this one, as her weird magics and hobgoblins tended to not carry green Sharpies on their persons.
Chaka looked over the man for a second and she got a suddenly gleeful expression on her face. She walked right up to the man and plucked one of the CIA recruiting pamphlets off him. “ Hey, Sullivan. Is that a new brochure?” She leaned up against the CIA recruiter and idly flipped through the recruiting materiel while Nikki and Hank began snickering at the recruiter’s predicament.
Sullivan looked at them plantitively as Toni stuck the pamphlets back onto him. “Keep up the good work, Sully.” The teenaged martial-artist began walking towards Poe.
“Hey Chaka!” Hank hollered at her as she began meandering away, “ Don’t these CIA recruiter bastards come in packs?”
“Oh yeah, all the time. Apparently it’s all the rage to have three or four grown men get their butts whupped all at once by kids. Why do you ask?”
Nikki was standing over what Hank was staring at. “ Because it looks like they tried to fight whatever got your buddy Sullivan here. Looks like three others. It looks like they got hauled off too.”
“Wow. That IS interesting. This calls for hot cocoa.” Chaka turned and walked away, leaving her two friends chuckling to themselves and shaking their heads as they followed.
Hank looked over at Fey and smirked. “ I’ll tell Delarose to pick up a package out here once we get inside.” He began dialing on a cell phone as they reached the cottage.
“Mmmm....Carob...” Chaka said, doggedly trying to convince herself of her words.
No one was left to hear Sullivan whimper plantitively for someone to let him free until Security arrived six minutes later.
“Chief, Everhart just found another CIA recruiter duct-taped to the main flagpole. Someone ran his shirt and pants up like a couple flags.” Lieutenant Simeon Trout of Whateley Security’s Third Platoon said easily.
“Isn’t she supposed to be off-duty?” Delarose asked mildly.
“Yeah but she called in about an hour ago. Apparently she was up doing a morning run and found our first contestant after the Kimba kids called the one they found in. She wants out to make sure the chumps aren’t here to talk to her again.”
“Fair enough, how many got jumped?”
Trout smirked. “ We’ve found four in embarrassing positions around campus, there’s the one the kids reported earlier, another guy was found handcuffed and dangling from one of the building flagpoles with what can only be described as an Atomic Wedgie, the third is being treated for second-degree burns and frostbite in the infirmary. He’s babbling about flashing lights and reality falling apart wherever “ it” touched something. The fourth is currently being extracted from the flagpole I just mentioned.”
“Shit, that sounds like a familiar M.O.” Delarose thought for a moment. “Alright, punch up the sensors. Track down Caitlin Bardue for me, she’ll be joining the Security Auxiliaries this week, and I’d like to get her in here before Combat Finals start to get her kitted out.”
Trout leaned over the control console and began running a sweep. “ Ok, checking known hangouts for her... Not in the shed, not at Whitman or Twain, and none of the external campus sensors are picking her up. Think she left campus?”
“Nope, check the sensors in the Range Four bunker.” Delarose leaned back and sipped his coffee while Trout checked the sensors.
“Nada, nada. Hey, I got movement inside the back cage of the armory in there, with all that shit that fucker Mahren kept on personal lockdown. Security lockout’s been overridden on-site. How the hell did they get in there? Is Mahren back?”
“No, no danger of Mahren coming back. That’s Gunny B’s god-daughter, and Mahren transferred control and ownership of all his personal gear to her, hence she has the codes and access. Plus if the rumblings I’m hearing from Hartford are correct, the little prodigy has all the licenses, and certifications to operate that range and even teach the classes if she was on the payroll. Carson and Hartford are getting her set up as the manager for the range, tracking all the goodies for the ATF and Federal Marshals.”
“Not that I ain’t glad that asshole isn’t coming back, but I don’t get it. Why are we letting a student have full access to the armory there when none of the security teams so much as have the main bunker access codes? I still think that prick should have been subject to security oversight.”
Delarose looked at Trout with an irritated look, and then went back to watching the monitors. “ She will have oversight. I have those codes, Bardue and Wilson have the codes to the main bunker, and Everhart’ll have the cage access along with Bunker access once the girl gives them up. Everhart will be responsible for monitoring Miss Bardue’s activities on-range for the foreseeable future. Besides, Everhart’s the only one here who’ll get a quick idea how to handle the girl. You, and your platoon do not have the licenses, nor clearances to touch ninety percent of the hardware kept in that bunker. This is an old argument, and it will not be discussed further, am I clear?”
“Crystal, sir.” Trout went back to the com. “ Hey Everhart, since you’re up and about anyway, we need you to go to the range four bunker and pick up a kid for Delarose. She’s in the back cage with all the locked-out hardware. Delarose wants you to get the access codes for the bunker and the back cage. You get to monitor our new little range manager while we hunt for a new heavy instructor who we can legally hire.”
“Understood, ETA five minutes.” Samantha Everhart’s voice came back over the comm channel crystal clear, and Trout let the freaky SEAL-bitch do her job. He couldn’t screw with Delarose’s little princess, at least not with the old man standing over his shoulder.
Caitlin sat inside the back cage of the armory with all the hatches sealed and locked. Sure enough every time she got in here the facility was in lockdown, a testament to certain parties' attempts to get into the bunker and to her collection of toys she kept sequestered away that included her personal stash of weapons, a full set of the Range REACT armor for the whole range crew and some little tidbits best left out of the public eye, be it for safety reasons or because some types of weapons and armor carried a bit too much notoriety to be seen in public. The most egregious and obvious of the dangerous examples were the AEGIS Loaders.
The Ammunition Expedient Generation and Insertion System was an evolution of a devise pioneered by the notorious mastermind known as Gizmatic. While the Devisor who had conquered his own small island nation in the Caribbean had graduated well before Erik Mahren had arrived on-scene at Whateley Academy, both Caitlin and Wilson still referred to the egomaniac as “ the one that got away.” The devise itself was small, and complex, resembling nothing so much as an odd ammo drum for a machinegun. The original model had been buggy, dangerous to use and rife with flaws, as could be expected from a second-year student, but in the intervening years improving upon the system had been a pet project of the Whateley devisors who frequented the range. The latest incarnation was a development by a freshman called Slapdash the year before. Now Slapdash was in the Grunts team, and the devise was capable of feeding a machinegun a seemingly unlimited supply of ammunition until it eventually misfired and blew the bolt out of the top of the gun after prolonged use.
While this seemed on the surface to be a fairly inane development, the fact that the bullets weren’t completely stable resulted in them disappearing as the projectiles, casings and even the powder expended disintegrated, leaving no evidence besides bullet holes in whatever it was used to attack. Due to the potential forensic nightmare, and a high potential for abuse and liability, Whateley kept the loaders locked down in Mahren’s secured section of the range four armory.
Caitlin was in a fairly good mood. The recruiters hadn’t been able to put up much of a fight, but then they hadn’t been able to handle her before her change either. She loved screwing with people who weren’t supposed to be on campus, and even as a semi-normal baseline bastard she had done her level best to make them pay in embarrassment and pride for every inch of ground they gained with the student body. It was one of her passions, spooking the spooks. They had hated her before and she saw no reason to end a fun string of harassment simply because her circumstances had changed.
Unfortunately, rather than the hours-long sneak and snatch runs she had done as a man, her heightened physical abilities had rendered the whole thing an exercise of about fifteen minutes. It was almost anticlimactic. The bruises were half the fun. She did kind of feel sorry for the guy who’d accidentally gotten cooked and frozen a bit by her corona. She hadn’t meant to hurt anyone, just make them piss their pants and suffer the embarrassment of explaining to Delarose what had happened to them.
As a result, she found herself in the Range four bunker continuing a project she’d started about a week ago, marking glyphs and wards into every piece of gear in the armory. It was painfully easy once she’d put her mind to it, and required very little conscious thought on her part, an outgrowth of her oddball artificer powers she’d been stuck with. It did, however, mean that she wouldn’t accidentally destroy any of the expensive hardware stored at the Whateley ranges. Wilson was still steaming over the destruction of three M-16’s on range one while he was on watch. And it seemed her building odd things here and there, or modifying them were the only times when her wigged-out mystic aura didn’t interfere with whatever she was doing.
She had just put the finishing touches on the heavy Range REACT suit she’d worn as Erik Mahren in the past, both warding it against her aura and re-sizing it to fit her body. She’d lost about seventy pounds of weight when she’d undergone her catastrophic change from human male to female artificer, and her body was a lot more lithe and slender, with less bulk muscle as a result. So she’d been forced to adjust the armor for her new size, the fact that she sported breasts, and the fact that her hips and waist traced a more hourglass figure than the old, straight, hard lines she was used to. It had taken some doing, but she’d managed to make the whole setup work, and the unpowered, heavy-plated armor was a lot easier to move around in than she remembered due to the raw physical strength her new form packed.
She tested the armor again, going through her full range of motion in the bulky rig. It did constrict movement some, but it wouldn’t interfere with what she needed to do if she had to wear it again, namely cut loose with heavy firepower in the most violent and unsubtle manner imaginable. The nine back hard points for spare rocket tubes were empty, as was the locking harness for the rocket launcher on her right hip. six spare barrels for a machinegun were strapped to her leg, and she began pulling her hair up so she could get the helmet on when a beep informed her that someone had opened the main blast door to the external part of the bunker from outside.
“Let’s see who’s knocking at my chamber door.” Caitlin flipped on the internal camera that only fed into the back cage and saw the petite blonde girl carrying a manila envelope heading straight for the back cage. “ Hello what have we here? You, my dear do not work here. How’d you get my bunker code?”
She watched, amused at the internal control panel as the internal cage light flickered amber, then red almost faster than her eyes could track. She wasn’t expecting THAT. The monitors showed that the security lockout was being slowly overridden, even though the external controls had just had all power cut down to zero to deny access. That couldn’t be good. She settled the helmet on her head and adjusted the straps, then picked up her personal baby, a heavily modified M-240 Golf machinegun that had been tweaked to near-unrecognizability and locked an AEGIS to the carrier, then ran the feed to the tray and racked a round. Whoever it was knocking at her chamber door was NOT getting at the plethora of her personal gear or the dangerous bits without some severe problems, compounded by the fact that she wasn’t just another human norm with some solid experience.
A quick look at the external monitor showed the cute blonde in jeans and a T-shirt standing outside, looking frustrated and annoyed. Caitlin patched the com feed of the helmet to the external speakers in the main bunker and began speaking.
Samantha Everhart looked at the manila envelope Delarose had suddenly called her back to retrieve on the way to the bunker, mildly annoyed. The recruiters were an amusing bit to an early morning. She’d found the first one dangling from the horizontal flagpole above the entrance to Shuster Hall when she’d gone out for her morning run. When she called it in she’d been told about the Kimba find and began hunting for any others, just in case they were prowling for her... again. And now things were going into another day at work. Hopefully this would be the last of the B.S. tonight. Today was supposed to be her day off.
“Hive, what do we have on this Caitlin Bardue?” To the average outsider, it would appear that the seemingly teenage girl was talking to herself.
Checking records. Caitlin Bardue, age sixteen, freshman. No cottage listed. Alternate housing in the northern storage sheds due to hazards to teachers and students. Exemplar 4, Wiz and Devisor class, levels unknown, Esper 2. File displaying now.
Sam scanned the file quickly, and noted the hazard warning on the student concerning an uncontrollable magic aura and a need to ensure that the wards on her clothing remained intact. Two psych warnings gave notice that the girl was a high probable for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and a chemical imbalance in the brain leading to Intermittent Explosive Disorder, or something very like it. Beyond that, there was actually a pathetically thin amount of information on this particular student.
“Not much to go on is there?”
Was that one of those rhetorical questions you mentioned?
“Yeah.” She punched in the external code to open the large, vault door and was gratified to see the large, circular door slide back and roll out of her path. Delarose had given her that access when she had arrived, though she had never had a reason to use it. Being a flag rank SEAL officer did bring SOME trust in the security/military professional world after all. It also carried about the same amount of distrust.
The inside of the bunker was well-lit and she could see the front cage that dominated the majority of the space, with only a small section where the kids could requisition the firearms through a barred window. Inside the cage was rack upon rack of firearms of every possible variety, including not a few that were still technically under development.
Getting through the cage area was simplicity in itself. She simply let Hive take care of all the access codes and operate the security checkpoints. The locker was well-maintained and it looked like the guns were clean. The secondary security and range control console was in standby mode as it should be.
The bright red, curly-haired wig hanging off one of the machineguns did seem out of place though.
The back cage was misnamed. Vault would have been a better word. The blast door was solid Titanium-laced steel, presumably with a wheel-spoke locking arrangement. There was a simple key pad and intercom setup. “ Hive, go ahead and open it up. I don’t feel like waiting on the little princess to get her shit together.” A split-second later the keypad went dark, and the indicator lights went out.
Hive cannot access the armory network through the keypad system. Security lockout engaged as soon as a bypass was attempted. Attempting to re-route power through the system.
“Wonderful. How long is this going to take?”
Multiple interconnected and redundant systems. High probability that this security system was built by a Devisor. Hive is attempting to map the system to determine the best course of action, if any. Estimate time to access eight minutes, thirty-three seconds.
Devisors were a pain in Sam’s ass on campus as their wonky science was a shoe-in for confusing Hive, as technically their little toys should not work, especially by Hive’s exacting and literal standards.
A countdown timer appeared in her vision and Sam sighed. She wished Delarose had just given her the damned codes, so she wouldn’t have to wait on this girl to decide to get around to coming out.
“Attention. You have just attempted to illegally enter a federally-monitored armory unit.” The female voice crackled out on the intercom. “ You have thirty seconds to identify yourself or I will consider you hostile.”
Sam rolled her eyes, annoyed. It was too early in the morning for this shit, and she hadn’t even had her morning cup of coffee. “ Samantha Everhart with Whateley Security. Delarose told me to come get Caitlin Bardue.”
“Wait one while I verify.”
Over the security net hive patched the call into her hearing. It was surprisingly on the Range REACT secure channel.
“This is Range 4 Armory calling SecOne. I have a blonde chickadee attempting entry into the back cage who claims she’s with you guys. No uniform in sight, please advise.”
Delarose’s voice responded promptly, &“She’s there on my order Caitlin. Let her in, and give her the cage access. Only Samantha Everhart is authorized to have those codes besides myself.”
“Will do SecOne. Hija...Range four armory out.”
Three seconds later Hive had withdrawn and the vault door unlocked and swung outward. Sam saw a figure in heavy-plated tactical armor covered in black symbols and glyphs. The name plate on the armor had been removed, and the figure looked like some kind of Space Marine in what was obviously some form of heavily-modified Land Warrior armor. The person’s face was hidden under the helmet and a very large machinegun that she recognized was cradled in her arms.
“Caitlin Bardue I presume?” Sam asked as she stepped forward cautiously.
“That’s me. Hang on a second while I pop the armor off and break down the banger. I’ll come with you once I get the shit stowed.” The armored figure snapped and hissed as she moved, crazy energies ripping across her armored form.
Sam nodded quietly and watched as the young woman, there was no other way to describe her, rapidly shucked the armor and stowed it in a storage rack with the machinegun and loader. The back cage was tricked out with the latest and greatest in security systems, and she got a rundown from hive just how much of a nightmare it would be to override and unlock it without the codes. Approximately nine minutes, an eternity of work for the nanites who could crack most security algorithms inside a few seconds.
“So what’s with the security system? I’ve never seen one that could lock me out.”
Caitlin looked over, pulling out the improvised clip she’d put her hair up with and let it fall freely behind her. “ Devisors put up the system three years ago. The damned thing’s so stupid-full of redundancies that people have gotten locked in here without any way out for hours. Any attempt to bypass any of the control nodes results in total power lockdown before the locks move even a millimeter.”
“Paranoid much?”
“Have to be. There’s plasma weapons in these storage racks back here, and not a few little goodies that’d make the NSA shit kittens. Last time I accidentally locked myself in I had to disassemble half of it, unlock it, reassemble it and reset it. Thirty hours of work because of a glitch. Delarose was pissed. So we rigged an override control in Kane Hall to unlock and reset the fucker.”
The main desk and file cabinets had a computer which was turned off, and there were two photos, the first one was of a blonde man with steely eyes and a short, blonde with a pixie like haircut. The second was a group photo of seven men standing alongside one another in civilian attire outside the front gate of Camp Pendleton. Every one of them looked like marines on liberty. The photos drew a shock of recognition from Sam, and not exactly in a happy way. She knew five of the men in the photos, one of whom was hugging the blonde in the other photo. She idly went over and picked up the group shot and stared at it.
“I’m done, and I know you’re with Security, but would you mind not fondling the pictures?” Caitlin’s clothing under the armor consisted of a white tank top, fingerless gloves, and tight jeans. Sneakers finished the ensemble best described as “ Wiccan from Hell.”
“I recognize these guys. Know them from back west. Buncha unruly sons of bitches.”
Caitlin nodded and pointed at the man standing to the far right. “ Erik Mahren. He used to be the heavy weapons teacher here until he hit a burnout spike and went GSD on us.”
Sam looked up, somewhat surprised. “ Mahren was a mutant?” Another odd bit was the way she talked easily, like she didn’t care one whit that Security wanted her, and her use of terminology was almost like some of the teachers. Maybe she was reading too much into it and she was just dealing with one of the many genius level exemplars on campus.
Caitlin looked at the photos. “ Yeah. He was a bit more than shocked by the whole thing, to say the least. By the way, the top drawer has the instructions for setting up access codes for the range. Read 'em, memorize 'em and put the paper back. You have to do it from Delarose’s desk at Kane Hall.”
Caitlin stood easily, racking her brain for any memory of where she might have seen this chick somewhere. It didn’t add up. She wasn’t any of the Marines from the base. She’d have been about twelve when she, as Mahren, had left the Corps. There was no memory of anyone’s children ever being brought around her or her team, and she’d have remembered anyone looking like her if she’d known them personally. Maybe she was one of Prison Bitch’s myriad girlfriends. Who knew?
“Ok, I’m ready. Let’s head on out.”
Sam followed Caitlin out, noting very carefully how the girl meticulously locked down everything, as well as the girl’s obviously odd features. It was how she moved that didn’t add up though. Upon reflection Sam realized that both of their respective body language and habits were very similar. Caitlin moved like she had a purpose in life, and was charging forward to meet it. She also scanned the area every few feet unconsciously, and didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with unnecessary chatter.
It wasn’t till the pair were at Kane Hall that Caitlin’s curiosity got the better of her. “ So where did you meet Uncle Mahren? He never mentioned anything about you.”
“Uncle Mahren?”
“Yeah, I kind of latched onto him as a kid when he was still in Dad’s Unit with Gunny Bardue.”
“Long story, I’m not technically allowed to talk about most of it, but he struck me as the kind of guy who didn’t put much stock in rank when he was actually doing what he did.” Sam pointed Caitlin through security towards Delarose’s desk, a place she’d been millions of times, usually to threaten Trout and members of third platoon with bodily harm for “ borrowing” gear from an armory.
Caitlin frowned a bit. Odder and odder, the questions got more questions. The mere fact that she knew enough about her past that she wouldn’t talk about it was worrying.
“Oh yeah, Caitlin, Delarose said you needed this.” Sam handed over the manila folder to the girl, who looked at it curiously, then took it gingerly, like she was afraid she’d destroy it.
“Thanks, I’ll look through it when I’m sure I won’t fry it.”
They rounded the corner and saw Delarose looking at the security console over Lieutenant Trout’s shoulder. He nodded to them as they entered the room, and Caitlin did a double-take as she saw something that connected in her brain finally on the Warning Board that she had failed to notice before.
“Razorback’s an Ultraviolent?” The girl looked mildly startled at seeing the picture of the spined velociraptor kid on the ultraviolent board in the number four slot behind Bloodwolf, Maggot and Killstench.
Delarose shook his head mildly. “ You’d have known that if you’d paid attention to half the security memos that didn’t pertain to the range, Miss Bardue.”
“Why isn’t he carrying an armband or tracker then?”
“He’s on probation. We haven’t had a serious outbreak from him in the past semester, so he’s getting his chance to escape the board.”
Hive helpfully displayed the full dossier on Razorback rapidly in Sam’s vision. “Hey chief, what’s class-three rager mean? I know what a rager is but I’ve never heard classifications before.”
Hive immediately called up and displayed the information on ragers. Class-1’s were the ones who had short-duration temper blowouts, usually just enough to swing a couple times or break something. Class-2’s were the ones who once they got going, kept going until they were taken down, restrained or they wore themselves out. Class 3 ragers were the nightmares, people who not only went on long, tearing, violent outbursts, but who actually became more deadly when they were raging.
“Razor’s a class THREE?” Caitlin seemed a bit more than alarmed.
Delarose sighed. “ We’ll talk about it later Caitlin. Time to pop you out of that neat little bubble you’ve been living in. So I need to talk to Samantha here about the security arrangements, and she will be your oversight on the ranges for the future.”
Delarose jerked his head in the direction of Trout and patted his sidearm at Caitlin, whose eyes immediately tracked over and locked on the Ivory-handled automatic pistol he wore strapped to his hip. “ Oh hell no.” she hissed fiercely.
“Samantha, come to my office please. Caitlin, take care of whatever issues you have with the range counts then wait for us in the ready room.”
Samantha watched confused as the metal-haired, steel-eyed exemplar gave Delarose a vicious grin and popped her knuckles. “ The counts will be fixed shortly Chief.”
When the two entered the Chief’s office Delarose left the door open a crack and sat down.
“Chief what the hell was that...” Samantha began as he held up a finger to wait.
A loud SLAM! reverberated through the hallway and Sam clearly heard Caitlin let loose on a screaming tear.
“All right you jakey-ass gomer motherfucker, let’s chat!” The words were shrieked then punctuated with another loud thump and the sound of a pistol being cocked.
Sam was up and moving for the door when Delarose stopped her with a word. “Sit.”
“But she’s.” The sound went abruptly silent in the control area for a moment.
“Boys I suggest sitting back down, your platoon leader here and I are going to have a chat, aren’t we you rabid cockbite?”
“Everhart this is an old song that has to be sung every now and again. If she doesn’t do it, then Wilson, Bardue or Smythe will do it, and I don’t feel like having that particular incident occurring. So sit down, and let the dominance challenge play itself out here.”
“I’ve seen a lot of shit from you, asshole, but stealing from a dead woman is low even for you!” The girl’s voice was interrupted by trout’s voice saying something unintelligible before she yelled again. Sam could say one thing, the girl could PROJECT. “Shut your fucking cockholster!”
“Chief, is it healthy to let a student make threats and scream at your security teams?”
“No, but in this case, it’s been a long time coming and Caitlin there is in charge of tracking all of the various firearms in the Whateley ranges, so if they come up missing, she can be held legally accountable. She’s correcting the issue.”
The voice was a lot lower, but still clearly audible. “Now, the serial number on this pretty little handgun you have tells me it belongs to Cat McQuiston, who died on Halloween. This gun went missing the day her father came here to collect her personal effects, along with thirteen other weapons from the Range Two cage. Now I’m going to assume that you were merely recovering the weapon to return it to its proper place and owner. Am I right? Nod your head if I’m right.” There was a pregnant pause for a minute.
“Good, now in the spirit of this happy recovery, I imagine that by the time I get done with Delarose here you and your boys will have recovered all of my missing toys, including Wilson’s KXT Sniper rifle, and have them back in Range Two where they belong aren’t you? Good boy. I’d hate to see your platoon have a dinner date with the Fort Leavenworth prison hospital, wouldn’t you?” The rant was ended and they heard angry footsteps pass the hallway, and a hissing ZAP! caused the door to slam shut.
Delarose chuckled and checked the door for damage. “ Girl’s still got it. I imagine that answers a lot of questions about biology affecting personality.”
“Chief, what the hell was the point of all that?” Sam was confused and mildly annoyed. “ And if that was the sound of a normal student I’ll eat my own goddamned head!”
“What that was about, is a rampant problem we have here at Whateley stemming from our 'neutral grounds' status. As you’re aware, all of the Security teams here draw extra pay from outside in return for information. Trout and Third Platoon draw most of their pay from sources like the Syndicate and other illegal groups. We can’t prove it of course, but it’s more or less fact.” He sat back down at his desk.
“So why was that better than having the other range instructors do the talking?”
Delarose sighed. “ Partly the neutral grounds thing, partly the fact that if Bardue, Smythe or Wilson did the screaming it would be with federal agents on-hand to arrest the lot of them, and I’d have to hire a completely new platoon, most likely from the same types that those jackholes hail from.”
“So it’d just get you a new crew, very likely one that’s even worse?”
“More or less. The reason Whateley Ranges didn’t suffer their predations was the fact that Bardue and Smythe used Erik Mahren as their hatchetman. He was a good guy, but he had no problem using the unholy specter of fear to keep the lot of them in line. Since he basically exploded and we haven’t had a range manager besides Bardue in the interim we’ve had a few items come up missing. Caitlin seems to be following old patterns, and I’d imagine that Trout’s going to come to be more afraid of her than him.”
“Mahren, you know Chief, I saw a picture of him, along with seven buddies of his from back in the Corps. He didn’t happen to have a tattoo of a knight spearing a dragon with Hijacker written underneath it did he?”
“You knew him then.”
Sam nodded. “ Yeah I knew him and his team. Buncha loose cannon sonsabitches with very little of what one would call discipline or espirit de corps.”
Delarose nodded. “ He’d been recovering here as a teacher for the past six years. He and his fiancée both gave their all to defend the school on Halloween, but she died. The pistol Trout was carrying had been hers. Erik went self-destructive; Bardue tried to help, and then had a burnout episode on the Hazard area. Now he’s no longer here.”
“But now you have Caitlin, who happens to have all the necessary paperwork to handle these ranges somehow.” The pieces clicked together in Sam’s head rapidly. “You know she dropped her drawers. She talks like a teacher, and she almost said Hijacker on the radio.”
“I know. I need to talk to her about shit like that. Just do me a favor, and don’t out her even to the platoons. There is some funky-ass shit going on with her mutation, and I got a bad feeling our little lady there is in for a rough ride. But for now, do me a favor and make sure that Trout’s weapons recoveries are successful, will you? I’d hate for that girl to actually get mad enough to press charges, or do something permanent to him.”
Monday, December 11th, 2006
The Crystal Hall was packed, with most of the students crammed into the cafeteria, vying for breakfast and time in the excited rush to get fed. Most of them were jonesing for the good seats in Arena 99 and didn't want to be caught in the nosebleed section when the fun began. Only a few tables sported students taking their sweet time, mostly because their seats were reserved, they thought the Combat Finals was just another potential ego-train, or they figured that there would be mayhem aplenty to be witnessed, so were in no hurry to fight the crush for the good seats.
The Alphas were at their accustomed table talking, unconcerned by the frenetic movements of the lesser students. Sara's small cluster of friends had settled into a small corner, deliberately moving at a more relaxed pace in comparison to their peers. The Wild Pack just sat, shaking their heads while the Capes were relaxed and S.T.A.R. League Junior settled in to watch the aftermath and help the Security forces on Campus keep things from heating up too much during the inevitable row that was in-progress. Most of the Junior and Senior power teams treated everything like business as usual, while the froshes and sophomores jostled, shoved and bolted in and out of the Crystal hall like their asses were on fire.
In one of the less-frequented spots used by the Crystal Hall, five of the most heavily GSD students who were still able to move about on their own without assistance or special gear wolfed down plates of food at their normal, ferocious pace. Well, Jericho's wardrobe was usually considered severe GSD all on its own. Razorback, Diamondback, Jericho, Phobos and Deimos sat at their table, joking, making wisecracks and generally being a bunch of loons, as they were wont to do. Neither Jericho nor Diamondback questioned the presence of their three ultraviolent friends, and all in all the company was always welcome.
Jericho was grinning while he talked. “So Jobe being the arrogant little bugger decides that he is wants in on the action! I swear to god these two could give lessons in the Mad Scientist community for hokey attitudes. So while I'm telling Belphegor that no, I wasn't going to let him use my table-scanner to work the bugs out of his latest creation of abominable genetics Jobe makes like he's all sly and walks by, pocketing Belfy's blood samples from the scanner that I'm ensuring isn't working and replacing them with something else.”
“Oh dear God, please tell me they're not still snarking on and on about that perfect girlfriend shit.” Phobos, one of the 'Fury twins' put her lower left arm to her face and sighed.
The Fury twins were card-carrying members of the small, but odd group of Whateley girls who fell into the category of beautiful, but creepy. Except for hair color they were identical twins with Phobos having bright, flame-red hair and Deimos having hair so black it almost had blue highlights. Both of them had three pale green eyes apiece, fangs, four arms with pretty little clawed hands, a pair of whiplike reptilian tails, small horns coming from their foreheads and digitigrate legs ending in hooves. The fun part was the aura they both had that left bystanders with a feeling of creeping unease, or outright fear that spiked straight to absolute terror when they were adrenaline rushing or just plain mad. Anyone they hung out with on a regular basis was invariably very hard to spook, or just had a hefty amount of willpower. Even then they were uncomfortable to be around for long stretches.
“Oh yeah, perfect girlfriend this, Dhrow that, both accusing each other of stealing their research.” Jericho's grin started eating his face. “Well of course Nephandus and his stupid-ass prettyboy attitude has to go defend his Bad Seed buddy and brings over this weird cyborged-out golem thing. To make a long story short, threats flew, the screaming started, Neph made an ass on himself with his speech about how he was the nemesis of all that was pure and then Belph started claiming he was the true genius. It devolved from there and all right in front of my shop space in the main bay. So I did what any aspiring weird science fanatic does. Sat back, moved my tools and took a sip of my coffee.”
“So what happened?” Deimos liked Jericho's stories from the Devisor Lab, even if they didn't have a punchline.
“Well, a scuffle started, when Bephegor realized that Jobe had snaked his DNA samples, and Nephandus started cackling, and calling him a fool. So things are getting really heated when Belphegor threw a wrench, missed Nephandus and knocked my coffee out of my hand and spilled most of it on the shop floor.”
Razorback and Diamondback, Jericho's reptilian teammates turned and looked at him curiously. If there's one thing that anyone could call truly neurotic about their team Devisor, it was his obsession with coffee, his personal Black Death and inspiration. Even back home in Texas screwing with Joe Turner's coffee mug was akin to a death warrant, because he'd start the pranks, and wouldn't stop until he got bored. Even the bullies left the fat kid's thermos alone, although these days Jericho was looking less chubby around the cheeks and belly. Hard work and trying to keep up with a trio of exemplars will tend to do that to someone.
“So now, I'm thinking to myself, 'self, these asshats just spilled my Java all over my workshop floor.' So now not only am I gonna have to be the poor ass that has to go get the mop, but I have no coffee. And the coffeemaker was all the way at the opposite end of the Lab. This was a true dilemma for me.”
“Oh dear god, here it comes.” Diamondback was grinning. Razorback had already begun chuckling.
Jericho leaned back in his seat, idly playing with his coffee mug and noted that it was almost empty. He downed the last of it and smiled. “So I do what any self-respecting Devisor does when his plans are thwarted. I unleashed my Arachnid bots on the lot of them because I still have them hooked into the teleporter marix that they keep fired up to move heavy shit around. So now, Nephandus and Belphegor are being swarmed by doberman-sized metal spiders, and Jobe is laughing his merry little ass off at them. But I haven't forgotten him, oh no. I very calmly went back to my locker, and pulled out a nice bit of work that I'd stolen from him earlier this semester. He borrowed my surgical tools without asking, so turnabout's fair play. I of course am completely innocent of all wrongdoing, merrily setting up Belphegor's auto-injector with something I chose at random from his mutation rack at Jobe's work console, since I can't read. I swear these twits couldn't have given me better cover.”
“So finally the teachers get to the scene and they're trying to get my little technological terrors under control when Neph, who's screaming like a little girl while they try to maim him, gets the bright idea to blow a magically amped EMP grenade in the middle of the cluster. And people wonder why I tempest-harden everything. Oh man, you could hear screaming clear across the bay, hell Megadeath threw his wrench across the damned Workshop and started 'dricking himself. He was pissed. It all devolved from there. Meanwhile I wiped a bit of the little concoction from Jobe onto Belphegor's thermos of whatever the hell he drinks that I had conveniently wandered over by, tapping my cane the whole way. Then, I went and poured a bit of Belpho's 'Eye-enhancement' serum into Nephandus' tea, another acquisition from earlier that he wanted to test on me. I kept it and told him it just gave me gas.”
-Oh you are a rotten fucker Jericho. I approve, and I ask you to remind me never to piss you off. - Razorback was signing away, and enjoying the tale as it went off.
“So finally, Mr. Bumsfeld and Ms. Merenis get things under control when my spiders 'conveniently' lost power and switched off. I, of course, simply use my cane to hunt for my portable control unit that had been seemingly stomped on by Neph's Golem-thing, which is at this point twitching and crying out like a wounded moose from the EMP shock. We have a near-riot forming around the little escapade as the other Devisors realize that these three idiots were the source of the EMP burst, and I still don't have coffee. Well, Bunny, being the little sweetie she is, helped me clean up the coffee mess around my station and refills my mug for me. That girl is forever on my list of friends” Jericho grinned evilly. “Whether she wants to be or not.”
“Poor, poor little Poesie. She knows not what she has done.” Diamondback said solemnly, then started cackling maniacally.
“Now, after things calm down, Belph and Neph are trying to calm down, drinking their non-coffee beverages like the heretics that they are when Jobe yelps like Old Yeller while holding his hand. Yup. He found Belphegor's present. Belphegor drinks a few more sips and then turns green and starts throwing up all over the place, and drops a load in his pants as Jobe's little concoction makes him lose all control over his digestive tract. Nephandus starts screaming and clutching his eyes, screaming about going blind, which he was since they were turning into something resembling a bad butt joke, and Jobe's arm starts flopping around like a boned fish with the fingers fusing together. Looks like I found Belpho's Kraken formula he was going on and on about. Oops.”
The Outcasts and the Fury twins started chuckling to themselves as Jericho summed up. “It took those three morons a WEEK to get that shit out of their systems and reverse the changes. The entire time they were furiously plotting revenge, and from what I understand, they are all planning their vendetta to go off during Combat Finals, with a little encouragement from Yours Truly of course. So now we enter Combat finals with Round Two in the offing and I have me some serious Egos to annihilate. I mean, how the hell do you miss the blind guy in dreadlocks, a kilt and a purple wifebeater get up, walk away, and come back a few minutes later after you tear up his work space?”
Phobos and Deimos were smiling beatifically. The pair of them hated Jobe and Nephandus with a passion bordering on holy. Apparently Jobe had been the cause of their extra arms and claws, as well as the hooves when he'd made a perfectly reasonable-sounding offer to help them overcome their conjoinment issues when they got angry and to get rid of their paired tails and extra eyes so they could fit in better. The current odds were as soon as Jobe stepped off campus during graduation they were gonna tear him limb from limb. Wishful thinking kept them from going nuts.
Belphegor was another “helpful” rat-bastard who'd originally tested his Kraken Formula on a girl called Grabby, who was now scaled like diamondback, but with cream and pinkish scales. Her legs were gone, replaced with eight thick octopus tentacles that were strong enough to keep her upright and mobile, and her arms had been replaced with yet another pair of tentacles, all delicately scaled. Grabby had been looking for a way to correct a cerebral palsy problem she was rapidly succumbing to. It worked, but the cure was almost as bad as the disease, as she was now one of the freaks of Whateley.
Nephandus... Well what could be said about Nephandus that didn't involve him being an arrogant, pigheaded prettyboy with far too much money and far too few attacks of conscience. He, like Jobe and Belphegor, tried to be the brooding, and impressive evil genius warlock with style. Unfortunately he WAS a genius, but he couldn't get the brooding down, and he lacked in anything resembling style save his rich kid wardrobe. Nephandus was the brutalized butt of many of Jericho's pranks, up to and including Jericho sneaking into the lab, breaking into Nephandus' storage units, then altering many of the little toys with which Neph tried desperately to win the love, affection and the minds of a few of the girls at school, even the annoyingly hot Fey.
The chatter went on for a few minutes when Deimos growled above her tray, which was almost screaming for mercy as she tore into the assorted foods with a gusto that would have made a rabid pack of wolves proud. Phobos looked over and grimaced.
“Heads up guys, Pretty at three o'clock, coming our way like she wants something.” the tricloptian redhead mumbled.
Everyone snaked a glance over and the three Outcasts started chuckling.
“Chill ladies, that’s just Caitlin,” Diamondback smiled. “She got here while you two were at that funeral your family pulled you for. Trust me, she's cool.”
“If you say so.” Phobos and Deimos did the particular creepy twin trick of saying the exact same thing, at the exact same time, in the same tone.
Razor gave out a barking screech and pumped a fist in the air at the chrome-haired girl burning with insane energies, and she visibly smiled. “Hey Razor, how's it hanging?”
-Down, a little to the left and hard to carry.- Being mute never stopped Razor from being a smartass since he knew sign language.
Jericho and Diamond both started snickering while Phobos and Deimos watched Caitlin with leery eyes.
“That one's a storm,” Deimos muttered. “I can feel her from here. Cheerful on the surface, cold-blooded fury and frustration in the middle. And fear, but not from us.” Her sister nodded slowly. “None of it's directed at us.”
“That's normal for her.” Diamondback nodded toward the newcomer.
“Yeah, and that aura she's porting's weird. She rips up reality just by being in it.” Jericho's expression went from thoughtful to gleeful as Cait got to the table. “It's just fucking cool to watch.”
Caitlin dropped her tray unceremoniously, as usual, next to Razorback and slid in next to the dinosaur-like rager. “Can someone translate what he said?” She jerked her thumb at him.
“Razor says hi.” Jericho grinned wider.
-No I didn't you prankaholic nerdboy. I said my balls were lopsided. Get it straight.-
“And he's jealous that you can wear that halter so well. Something about getting himself fitted for panties and a dress.” Razor hit Jericho between the eyes with an egg in response.
Diamondback smirked. “The boys are giggling themselves stupid over Jericho's antics in the labs. So while they get their 'it's all about me' time, this is Phobos and Deimos. They're the infamous Fury twins I told ya about.”
“I thought you had a fear thing going on.” Caitlin looked at the two, shrugged, then proceeded to start ripping her plate apart. Really the only thing that separated the two semi-normal outcasts from their more feral or animalistic friends in eating habits was their penchant for using utensils.
“And I thought your aura made reality... go... Haywire?” Phobos wasn't really able to inject the snark as a jagged bolt of green energy arced along her hand and caused the fork to animate in Caitlin's hands. The manic piece of metal immediately tried to escape her hand by stabbing it's tines at her eyes after throwing a piece of sausage at her.
Caitlin gave Phobos a blank look. “Oh how I just love being me.” she deadpanned. She slammed the fork to the table and drew her obsidian-bladed harvester and cut the thing in half, whereupon it sparked, and went back to normal, albeit with the tines curled up in a way that was akin to a dead insect's legs.
Phobos and Deimos exchanged looks. Each knew the other was confused, as the obviously exemplar “pretty” had more or less given them a cursory glance then went about her business. Usually there were creeped out, disgusted or pitying looks. The pity was always the worst to take. She also let that fear generated by their aura slip into the sea of negative emotions that were bottled up and contained deep within her, as though pain, fear, frustration and rage had been with her for so long that they had become a part of her as much as those odd, metal, runed eyes. They looked at the Outcasts and got the impression that this was business as usual.
Caitlin's return impressions were much different, and more insightful as they were less based on power that she didn't have and quite a bit of foreknowledge. The two girls wore matching halters and shorts, obviously modified for their unusual frames. They both were slouched with a wary, challenging expression, so she guessed that their self-esteem was in the crapper but they would be nasty to anyone who pushed it in their faces. The bright red ultraviolent armbands on their lower-left arms near the second shoulder told Cait that provoking them would be like poking a bear with a flaming stick. Not conducive to health and long life.
Ultraviolents came in five flavors recognized by the administration, and by mutant experts worldwide, although they were called other things by the psychology majors of the world. There were your 'flip out and attack whatever pissed you off and anyone nearby' types, which Razorback, Phobos and Deimos were. The Whateley designation for them was a bright red armband with a very visible UV printed in black letters. For the ragers and sickos who loved to hurt people, or loved to fight there was a black armband with red letters. The kids who were just dangerous by virtue of the nature of mutation, there was a dark green armband with red letters. The poor schleps that were always just getting sucked into fights wound up with a white band lettered in black. The really dangerous ones, for whom there was a “Thou shalt not provoke” edict, the armband was blue. Shapeshifters screwed up the curve, so guys like Jimmy Trauger always were required to wear a name tag in lieu of the armband.
“So what's got you so cheerful this morning?” Deimos asked Caitlin cautiously. Unlike many of the Ultras, neither Phobos, nor Deimos liked the fact that they could be rapidly overwhelmed by whatever emotions were being felt by the people around them and mirror them, then have them amplified in their own minds. This effect had led to some very embarassing situations as it didn't just work on rage, fear and negative emotions. There had been a few lucky Twain and Melville boys on campus after one of the sisters or the other wound up getting too close to people making out when no one was watching them. Most of the boys involves remembered a very wild, but eerily frightening experience. Fortunately said boys had thus far shown the common sense not to brag about it or comment on the twins' virtue.
Both of the twins wanted Caitlin's dark side to stay bottled up in the background static.
“I started my first job officially today on campus, being Smythe's admin bitch on the ranges, and I managed to recover thirteen missing guns.” Caitlin smirked. “Plus I'm officially on the security auxiliary. So now they aren't going to hassle me when I want to get out and walk around at night. Ugh, I give up.” The nascent Artificer pushed her tray away when all of the food suddenly turned into bluish ice shaped like food.
Jericho looked over, having finished his food and smirked. “You going to eat that?”
“Nope, it's all yours buddy.” Caitlin handed the tray over to Jericho with a sweet smile.
Diamondback had to stifle a smirk as Jericho picked up a piece of food and crunched down on the ice. He yelped and spit the offending cold shards out... onto Razorback.
A loud, and indignant shriek erupted as Razor glared at Jericho and the dreadlocked Devisor sputtered. “Agh! You coulda warned me!”
Caitlin leaned back and smiled at Jericho. “Tunnel incident.”
Jericho started turning a bit red. “Uh. Right. So can we call it even?”
“Ohhhh no, boyo. You'll be paying for that one for months.”
“Are we missing something here?” Diamondback asked, confused.
-Nerd Wonder here decided that playing a bit of a prank on the newbie was a grand idea. So he set up a nitrogen cooler meant to drop the temperature by about forty degrees in the Thorny sub-level where we do our guitar shtick, which you are going to sing for tonight, by the way. Unfortunately, he accidentally cracked one of the cooling lines for the sub-basement and Cait got a liquid nitrogen bath and all her clothes broke and fell off. Then things got REALLY weird. We both had to run like hell because she about exploded, the walls started writhing, fire and lightning went everywhere, and we had a general panic until Circe sent me to the utility sheds for a spare set of clothing for her.- Razorback shot a look at Jericho, who was really trying to look invisible. He loved being the prank king of Twain, but he was invariably mortified when the pranks went too far.
“Put it this way Diamond, I'm almost immune to the cold and when that crap hit me I felt hypothermic.” Caitlin shot Jericho a mock-angry look. “I hadn't gotten like that since I lived in Alaska.”
“Jericho? Remember what I said about pranks backfiring? You're gonna feel this one for years.” Diamondback had a smug expression on her face.
“I know, I know ok? Jeez! I'm sorry! I said it before, I'll say it a thousand more times if I have to!”
“You're lucky no one saw me naked. I'd have really been pissed.” Caitlin said archly.
“See you naked? Yeah right, sorry Cait, I was too busy running for cover, and I heard something screaming and snarling in there and it wasn't you.”
“Trust me, you don't want to know. By the way, bud. I'd avoid the maintenance crew for a bit. They called Stan and Morrie in to clean up the mess, and they weren't able to get their other crewmates in so they had to fix that shit by themselves.” Cait looked a bit smug.
“Oh no. Oh god. No wonder the toilets back up whenever I use them since then.” Jericho shook his head. “I offered to help fix the damage!”
“Doomed.” The intoned word by the twins had the finality of the grave buried within. Then they cracked grins.
“Oh I wish I had a camera!” Diamondback smiled serenely as she cherished the look on Jericho's face. After a second, she abruptly looked at Razorback. “What do you mean I'm singing tonight?”
The arena was packed to the gills with teachers and students. Razorback led the other five through the throng, weaving and ducking the masses until he found what he was looking for. Sue, Lucille, Rhianna and Anna of the Underdogs had somehow managed to tie up six extra seats. Caitlin chuckled as she saw the “Reserved for Ultraviolents” signs on the loose chairs. The four girls weren't even mildly put off by any of the Outcasts, getting up and giving big hugs to the mottled black and yellow-brown velociraptor-thing that was Razorback. Diamondback got similar treatment, and the girls just shook Jericho's hand, which he missed several times trying to “find” playing up the blind man act for all it was worth. Not for the first time Caitlin wondered why he'd told her about his oddball senses allowing him to perceive everything around him when he played up the whole blind man act so much.
Caitlin actually knew Anna and Sue from the ranges. The two of them had been taking pistol courses from Cat before Halloween. She'd wound up picking up the slack for about two weeks before her life had taken a sharp left from reality. Both were actually a fair hand with a nine-millimeter pistol, and she had wished more than once that she had been better with pistolwork so she could teach them better. Wilson had taken over that duty in the interim and he, Bardue and Smythe were all running ragged trying to keep the three gun ranges open, as well as the combat simulators below the main arena complex of Arena 99. From what Caitlin had seen, they were doing it by the skin of their teeth and running the student assistants ragged. She would have volunteered to help program the Arena scenarios, but the likelihood of her accidentally destroying the sensitive equipment was a bit too much to risk.
The first few matches were over already, given the Outcast proclivity towards taking it slow and easy. Besides, they hadn't missed much with Peeper and Greasy giving a running commentary on the fights in progress on WARS, although the comments about the hot bodies in skimpy clothing were annoying.
Caitlin found herself wedged into a seat between Diamondback and Deimos, uncomfortably aware that she felt out of place, and trying not to move too much for fear of hurting one or the other. While she knew that hurting an exemplar was pretty damned hard in the long run, and accidentally transforming them was largely a non-issue, it could still hurt like hell. And if her wards went out she'd have a problem of epic proportions, as Jericho and Razor found out by accident.
“So how's this shit work?” Diamondback asked, leaning towards Razor.
Caitlin pointed to the overhead screens. “That's going to be where detail stuff will display along with MID info. Each of the sim programs is pretty much generic. You remember when Carson said, 'in most cases, students are being paired up at random'? What that meant was that sometimes, it’s not even close to random. And not everyone's going to eat the stupid spindle scenario down there.” Caitlin looked up at the display. “We're actually on fight five. We should see the next one soon.”
“How do you know all this?” Phobos asked.
“My adopted father is programming the scenarios. He told me how it works, and what the rules were gonna be, but didn't give me anything more specific.”
“Fun fun.” Jericho looked around. “So what are the rules this year since we missed the opening announcements?”
Lucille forcibly grinned in the face of the Fury Twins’ fear aura. “You'll love it. It's called the Doomsday Device scenario. See the spindle down there with all the glowy lights on it? That's the objective.” The cute underdog put in the wanted info excitedly, much to Caitlin's seeming relief. “You have to use the keypad and voice software to answer questions to activate the spindle. Takes about 30 seconds to do if you're quick. You succeed you win and your opponent flat loses. The whole thing's rigged so that you can't snake around the win/loss criteria.”
“Oh fun. So what's my motivation here?” Deimos looked at her sideways.
“Well, Combat Finals are thirty percent of your semester grade. And we'll be marked up or down on how well we perform, not on whether we win or not. A passing grade means we get an option for a new class or something. I forget what it was though. Big thing is to throw everything you got because you can win and still get an F on this one.”
“Oh greeeeeeat. Makes me wanna perform there.”
“Hey guys! It’s starting again!” Anna smirked and looked at the display.
The picture displayed was of a Native American with a nervous smile. She was pretty, and had a white streak of hair along the right side of her head in the MID photo. Thankfully, only the arena-bound spectators could see that Photo. She'd found out just why Whateley's infamous Arena 99 had a “Masks required” rule three days ago from A.D. and she was thankful that the viewing public wouldn't be treated to her unmasked face on the Mutant Deathmatch broadcasts that were undoubtedly running on Pay-Per-View. The MID card info read:
Code Name: |
Heyoka |
Ratings:: |
Exemplar 1, Empath(rec)3, Empath(pro)2, Shifter 1 |
Techniques: |
Dialing 911, Running Away, Hiding, Improvised Weapons, Begging for Mercy, Taunting |
Weak vs.: |
Narcolepsy <Do Not Wake>, Migraines, Speech disorder (intermittant) |
Backup/Team affiliation: |
No official team, loosely affiliated with Team Kimba |
A ragged cheer came from the section of the arena where the Poesies seemed to be largely clustered as the MID card went up.
Diamondback started giggling at Heyoka's “techniques.” “Hey if I'd known we could be smartass about it I'd have done something like that for the MID card!”
Caitlin smirked “Yeah well, you'll have to change it when you graduate anyway. They're a lot more forgiving on student types, part of the agreement between Carson and the MCO to keep 'em off Whateley's case.”
“Wonderful. Oh well. Not like I need to worry about that for another four years.”
“So who is it, and who's the opposition?” Jericho asked, genuinely irritated that he couldn't read the screens.
“First one up is Heyoka. Have any of you figured out if he's a boy? I have a real hard time telling.” Sue said mildly,” and they're about to... There it is. Oh god it's Alvin!”
Code Name: |
Cerebrex |
Ratings:: |
PDP, ESP 2, Psi 2, PK 3 |
Techniques: |
Strength Enhancement, Mind Hunter, TK Throw, Flight, Ram Surge |
Weak vs.: |
Emotional overload |
Backup/Team affiliation: |
Vindicators |
Most of the Underdogs, and all three of the original Outcasts groaned when they saw the lineup. Caitlin, Phobos and Deimos leaned forward to watch, curious.
Heyoka bit her lip slightly and slipped into the crowd like just another normal bystander, albeit with a headscarf mask that covered the top of her head, and had holes for her eyes, mingling and doing everything to not draw attention to herself. She wasn't exactly easy to pick out as she wound her way towards the spindle cautiously. One baseball cap later and even the headscarf was subdued somewhat. The brightly-colored orange windbreaker was just the kind of touristy kitsch that one would expect to see in a crowded street. The pants were generic, not so baggy that it stood out, not so tight that it highlighted the shape of her frame.
She wasn't looking forward to dealing with Alvin Cuthbert, the self-styled Captain Canada!, or Cerebrex officially, who was a supreme annoyance and all around pain in the ass to anyone with even a modicum of something resembling common sense. Alvin's long-winded diatribes on the greatness of Canada were painful, and annoying beyond all reason. He couldn't use Captain Canada! as his codename officially, due to rules laid down about that kind of thing, so he was stuck with the supervillain-esque moniker of Cerebrex.
She grumbled to herself, not wanting to have to deal with the so-called finals which would put her at an inordinate disadvantage against a large chunk of the student body since she couldn’t count on spiritual help for a win. This left her with what she had learned in Survival class, the great joy of joys where you learned important combat techniques such as running like hell, dialing 911 and hiding from dangerous people. The actual class final had been bad enough when Mr. Anderson had brought in a small group of the most terrifying students on campus to play aggressor while his students tried like mad to escape their attention. The great big, mottled, black and orange, spined velociraptor had been her aggressor for the test, which she had passed, barely. She'd wound up playing up the other student's seeming inability to work around basic things like doors and locks, only to find out later that he'd been playing dumb.
She glanced to the sky occasionally and kept an ear out as the spindle came into view. Alvin was already there, in his atrocious red and white costume with a giant red maple leaf emblazoned on the chest. A diamond-shaped shield completed the image of this comic-book rip-off as he began punching in his codes for the spindle to register him as the winner.
A quick look to the left and right revealed what she wanted. A crowded street, lots of people and cars, plenty of cover. A nearby policeman stood, idly watching traffic and she smiled, wandering over to the cop. “Excuse me, officer? That guy over there by the spire thing's acting all wigged out and said something about that device and the power grids around here. Something about an overload.”
Heyoka noted the name tag: Officer Catspaw. Someone had a sick sense of humor.
“Holy shit, Gunny!” Wilson started chortling, “did she just do what I think she did?”
Gunny Bardue looked up from the control console and smiled. “Well that's a first. Give it to her, full response. Let's see how Captain Canada! deals with law enforcement climbing up his ass.”
“I'm on it.” Wilson turned and began inputting commands and speaking to the audio pickups.
Ito smiled mildly and sat back to watch the chaos unfold.
The Kimbas were cheering when Chaka spotted Heyoka slipping through the crowd. They watched as the girl snuck her way to the spindle, and then started talking to the cop. All of a sudden Fey burst out laughing like a maniac when she realized what Heyoka was up to. The laugh was contagious as the girls and Hank rapidly put two and two together, got the appropriate number, and watched the fun begin to unfold while the other students around them snarked about a “boring match.”
Jamie “Heyoka” Carson didn't wait to watch the police officer go do his thing. Instead she went bolting around to the crowded areas of bystanders and began saying things like: “Holy shit, that cop's going after a mutant alone!” and “Someone call the cops! I think that guy at the spire's arming a weapon!” The crowd began turning and people saw the cop, weapon drawn facing the obvious, costumed mutant at the ready.
“Sir, please step away from the terminal.” The cop waited for a moment while Cerebrex in his ridiculous Canadian best continued to plug away at the machine, oblivious to the law officer. “SIR! You in the stupid Canada suit! Turn around now and step away from the terminal, now!”
The stunned look on Whateley's own erstwhile Captain Canada! when he turned to face the cop was priceless. “Officer, is there a problem?”
“I have a report about you acting suspicious here, now step away from the terminal and remain motionless until we get this sorted out.” The cop kept his distance, warily.
“Officer I assure you, there is nothing untoward going on here, I'm merely disarming this machine so my nefarious enemy cannot use it to his whims.”
“God, trust this jackass to be all corny and comic-booky.” Heyoka muttered to herself as she readied her next little 'Surprise' to spice up the show. “Why do I always have to deal with the goofy ones?”
In retrospect it was probably for the best that Alvin was a pretentious little git. It gave her room to maneuver, since the boy was just not that bright. Unfortunately she knew from experience that a brick like himcould pulp her in a fistfight. She looked around at the crowd which was unconsciously moving in to get a better view, and then the whispers began.
Heyoka blended in with the crowd well, appearing as a young girl that was fairly nondescript, a side-effect of her slow recovery from channeling a spirit that had definitely been on the female side. This was a good thing as her normally gender-ambiguous appearance might draw a bit too much attention.
The argument had continued while she got ready and she could clearly hear Captain Canada!, Cerebrex, she corrected herself, pontificating. “Fear not, ladies and gentlemen, I will ensure that my villainous opponent cannot take advantage of this fair city, for I am Captain Ca...”
Cerebrex pointing to the crowd, while striking a heroic pose was too tempting, as she snapped off a couple inches of fuse from the little toy in her hand, and lit it, rolling it out into the open behind Officer Catspaw.
BANG! The gadgeteer flashbang went off right behind the cop, who happened to be pointing his gun at her Canadian patriot opponent. The gun went off and Captain Canada! barely had enough time and warning to bring up his shield a few inches. It was just enough to deflect the bullet into the crowd watching nearby. Screaming began, and the crowd panicked while the cop began screaming into his radio while trying to shoot at the costumed maniac in front of him. The caped loony had used a power on the crowd and then deflected the cop's bullet into bystanders, by all appearances. A man was screaming on the ground, bleeding, and Heyoka's stomach lurched as she realized what would have happened in a real crowd.
Unfortunately Cerebrex was a Package-Deal-Psychic, and had kicked in his TK, using it and his shield to deflect the bullets away from his body. Also unfortunately, he'd had enough time to build up the emotional intensity to use his powers fully as the crowd surged.
Heyoka's distraction at the wounded bystander cost her. She found herself thrown to the ground and scrambling as the throng stampeded, and forced herself to get back into the game. Some went running from Cerebrex, some attacked him, some stood in shock or screaming. In short it was utter chaos. Perfect. Mr. Anderson always said that confusion was a weapon. Use it to your advantage.
She scrambled into a crouch and looked, then dove into a group of people that were oddly running towards the spindle and got in with them, trying desperately to look panicked like the crowd. She glanced over and grinned, noting that Captain Numbskull was desperately trying to defend himself from the crowd while trying to calm them down.
“People, please calm down! I am not your enemy!” He sounded almost desperate as Heyoka did her civic duty and fired a Tazer she'd picked up a few weeks before into the back of this obviously dangerous lunatic. He jerked spasmodically and fell to the ground, as he hadn't been shielding his backside and the crowd surged at him like a wave of enraged dogs. Really all that was missing was the torches and pitchforks.
She reached the spindle and began the process of getting her information plugged in by wiping Cerebrex's answers and plugging in her student number. The mixture of voice-activated answers and typed responses was slow, and painful. She stumbled a few times, when she realized the crowd had parted, or been thrown clear of Mister Psi-brick and she was exposed. Her opponent had also noticed the flashing lights as the spindle ran through the processes of challenging her mind.
“And my nemesis shows her face, finally.” Cerebrex stood proudly as heyoka scanned the area and found her next target for mayhem. “You cannot stand against Captain Canada! protector of the Canadia... Where you think you're going?”
Heyoka was already running like a lunatic for a street crowded with fleeing pedestrians and vehicles when her opponent, foolishly forgetting about the spindle, took to the air to chase her. Fortunately for her, her target was well within reach and clear of bystanders, as the crowd was running away from the flying idiot. Bonus!
She lit another firecracker on the run, one with a long fuse and started counting. At one second she reached the car, at three seconds she had the gas cap off as her erstwhile opponent rushed in at her. At five seconds, the firecracker went down the pipe, having been drawn from the supplies of a gadgeteer who thought standard firecrackers were a waste of money, and the laws hadn't gotten around to banning his particular brand of pyrotechnics. He also had a fondness for coated fuses that kept the burn contained and unnoticed until it was too late, which kept the tank from blowing prematurely. At seven seconds, Cerebrex was flying low, directly at her as she ran like hell.
At nine seconds the firecracker went off, exploding and igniting the fumes in the gas tank, causing pressure to tear the vehicle apart and hit Cerebrex with a blast of heat and a spray of burning gasoline. People screamed, sirens blared, and confusion reigned supreme as she ducked into another crowd, ditching the jacket and hastily rummaging for a purple sweater and long, red wig. Thirty seconds later she was another pedestrian wearing cool weather clothing and some stylish sunglasses, wandering back to the original scene, while Cerebrex, the man with delusions of being a national superhero under the name Captain Canada!, flew overhead, searching for the dark-haired native that had managed to make him look like a complete jackass.
She found the spindle, untouched, and simply walked up and began inputting her final codes while her angered opponent circled. He didn't see her until it was far, far too late. He dove at the flashing thing in time to hear the gong and the announcement: “Victory to Heyoka.”
Heyoka stood, smirked and shucked the wig and glasses. With a wave she yelled “The world is mine!” and bolted for the exit with a maniacal supervillain laugh.
“Dammit, there's another trail of this stuff!” Fey gave a disgusted look at the knotted and twisted lines in the entrance of the arena proper at lunch time. “I really want to find out who's doing this!”
“Oh calm down Nikki, it's not like you don't deal with weird shit like this every day.” Toni smirked as the two walked towards the Crystal hall.
“Magic lines don't just 'twist' Toni. Something screwy has to happen for this to get all snarled!”
“It's Whateley! It's probably normal here! Look around for a few minutes I bet you find about twenty oddball twists in the stuff.”
“I have.” Fey shook her head to clear the cobwebs. “Ever since about mid-November I've been finding this stuff around the school, and it's been getting more tangled and more widespread. And it's all over the place! I mean yeah it goes back to normal after a day or so but the next morning everything's all knotted again!”
“So? Untwist it! You're miss all-powerful Sidhe!”
“I wish. Do you have any idea how bad these knots screw my magic up?” She grumped as she continued. “It's like you when your Chi gets whacked out. I see weird shit and the hobgoblins come in hordes!”
“You? See weird stuff? Oh my gawd! Call the press!” Chaka laughed. “Look I know that it's got you worked up, but if you can't find the source, what's the point griping? Besides! We gotta go talk to Jamie and say congrats! I mean he, she... Nevermind, thumped Captain Numbtard pretty hard and won! We gotta at least go give her the Kudos he deserves.”
“You know, I'll never figure out how you can slide the pronouns around like that.”
“Easy, I reject my English Teacher's reality and substitute my own.”
Fey rolled her eyes. “Ok, miss Mythbuster, you win. Let's go give Jamie her props. I'll mention this to Sir Wallace later, and see what he thinks.”
“Now you're talking! Let's get some food!”
Fey chuckled to herself, as she trailed a bit behind her ever-bouncy roomie, knowing full-well that Chaka was neither dismissing her issue, nor ignoring it. The two just didn't always share the same sets of priorities and Chaka always said she worried more than she needed to. It had been mildly maddening at first, but Chaka never had an air of malice or annoyance at these discussions, unless the ever present Unga-Dunga decided to pop in and add her two cents. Even the old Sidhe queen had given up trying to chide the upbeat martial-artist about her illusory lack of attention-span.
The Crystal Hall wasn't exactly packed, as the combat finals were still raging. The vast majority of the students, excited by the newness of it all, had grabbed their food to go and run straight back to the Arena. As a result, the traditional Kimba table wasn't surrounded by gawkers and other noisy kids stuffing their faces. In fact very few teams were wholly in attendance. The Wild Pack was all there at their table, as were the Alphas, of course. Fey let her nose wrinkle a bit when she saw the Don and Hekate holding lunch buffet court, per usual. She very clearly remembered Sebastiano's subtle attempts to shatter their team with his mental tricks. Unfortunately for him, the arrogant bastard screwed up, and got caught using powers on unwilling students. Word on the street was that he'd pulled toilet detail down in Hawthorne the whole week.
Dredz and Lily were chatting, or arguing over to the side. One could never really tell with those two.
A tap on her shoulder alerted her to the friendly presence behind her. She turned and saw Razorback standing about two feet away. The giant-sized, spined, dinosaur thing towered over her petite frame, looking absolutely ferocious. She knew better, even though it was true enough.
-How are you doing? Melt any more demons this week?-
Nikki grinned. One of the things that she loved about the spiny ultraviolent was his absolute fearlessness when it came to talking to people. -Hey Razor,- she signed in return,-no demons, but Eloise and Ben were asking about you and Jericho. You two made a real impression.-
Razor let out a slight chirp. -Well I'm glad things have settled a bit. Me'n the blind one are gonna be gone over Christmas. Much as we'd love to stick and play border watch, we gotta take care of the families as well. We're taking Diamond and Cait with us. Cait doesn't know yet.-
Nikki aloofly disregarded the always-incredulous stares by nearby students who were shocked that she was so friendly with the Detention King of Whateley Academy. Even though he'd stayed out of trouble for this semester, his record for consecutive detentions during his freshman year was still unrivalled on-campus. She noted that he didn't even spare a glance for the gawkers.
-I understand fully. I have to spend some time with Mom and Dad too. I'm just not for sure what the plans are. But for now, the weres know what they've got to do. They'll survive well enough without you two for a bit.-
Razor nodded, bobbing his head up and down, rather like a bird. -Me'n Jericho are going to go talk to Ben and Eloise one more time before we shuttle our asses to OZ. We have to take the Overwatch prisoner transport plane, since I can't fly regular and Cait might blow up the plane by accident.-
-Cait?- The word was unfamiliar, but she recognized it as one of the special shorthand signs he used for names. -New friend?-
-Yeah, you'll see her around. She's kinda hard to miss. Dunno if I’d bring her in on the weres thing though. I got protection somehow, and Jericho's blind, so the weirdness doesn't hit him so bad. I don't want to put her or Diamond at risk of what happened to those poor State Trooper bastards. Dunno if they can take it, mentally.-
Nikki nodded. -Probably for the best. We've already got enough necks on the line. And you and Jericho have more than done what we would have asked. Thanks.-
-No problem, but for now... FOOD!- Without waiting for a response, Razorback darted off to the chow line and began gleefully piled the meat on the tray.
Nikki chuckled to herself as she watched the unlikely friend she'd found fighting two of the “Voodoo-Weres,” as Jericho called them in the Grove. That particular slice of nightmare had been dicey, but he'd made an impression on both her and Ben, which was saying something.
She tracked him back to his table and saw Jericho, of course, and Diamondback. The Fury twins were mildly surprising to see, as well as the small group of Underdogs. She chuckled and turned to join her friends after seeing Jericho saying something, and watching a tall girl with long, metallic black hair start banging her head on the table like she was trying to hammer out something bad. Knowing Jericho, it was.
She turned back to her friends, the Kimbas, Sara's “pack” and an odd one or two others who were busy congratulating Poe's first glorious victor. She reached the table in time to hear Heyoka griping. “So because I decided to make a joke after I won, and stood in the open Mr. Anderson graded my final at a B-, and even then, only because Cerebrex's hero complex probably would have resulted in him not killing me if he caught me!”
“Bad, bad, bad, BAD!” Caitlin punctuated each word by thumping her head on the table. “That's it. No more drugs for that man!” She pointed at the offending white-eyed, dreadlocked black boy across from Razorback.
Jericho grinned. “Whaaaat! It's not like I pulled out the full Pun arsenal.”
Phobos and Deimos looked pained, and the Underdogs were groaning in mock-agony. Diamondback seemed completely unaffected.
“What?” the snake-girl pretended to be oblivious. “You all knew when you started hanging out with Joe that he'd suck all the Pun out of your lives.”
That set off a new round of groans as Jericho and Diamond exchanged a high-five. When the two childhood friends decided to be in cahoots, the results were painful to observe.
At this table, once they got used to Caitlin, the near-total use of Codenames had evaporated like the wind as the Outcasts opened ranks to allow a new friend in.
Caitlin looked up and grinned as Razorback plopped into his accustomed spot next to her, and he eyed her suspiciously. -The sparky thing is looking at me again!- He hovered protectively over his tray, as he'd found out that Cait was an accomplished and skilled food-thief over the past two weeks.
“Hey Jack. Nice ham slices there.” The metal-eyed girl gave him a grin that was purely evil as she used his real name.
-Back off, Sparky. These are MY ham slices!-
Jericho and Diamondback, AKA Joe Turner and Sandra Carter, sat back and grinned as they watched the spectacle unfold. Everyone knew that alone among all of the gathered bodies, Caitlin was the only one who couldn't even do the very basics of signing well. She was learning the basics, slowly, but she could only understand one word in five, such as and, the, or and taquito. Everyone was mystified by her taquito obsession until she'd pulled a Gir during lunch during one of the impromptu food wars.
“What? Help myself you say? Ok!” Her hand darted forward and Razor snapped at it, trying to defend his prize from the evil food-thief when he missed Diamond swiping a piece of chicken from him. The shriek of protest was half-hearted and only made everyone grin.
Phobos and Deimos were smiling despite themselves, having decided that the 'pretty' was going to have to prove herself before they trusted her. Even so, her complete lack of... anything regarding their odd appearances had shaken them up quite a bit, and it's hard to pull a fast one on an empath.
Lucille caught on first and snatched one of Diamond's hard-boiled eggs. “Razor, catch!”
The egg vanished into the lizardlike maw, and Caitlin used the distraction to swipe the prized slices of ham. A pregnant pause ensued when Jack Carlyle realized that the metal-haired girl was gnawing on his ham slice!
-Of course you realize, this means WAR!-
The chaos erupted, and rapidly devolved as even the Underdogs and Jericho were sucked into the burgeoning war for food-territory, all while trying to devour what's on the plate so the enemy could not take advantage of it. Phobos and Deimos turned out to be enthusiastic players with a grossly unfair advantage in their extra arms. They could assault and defend at the same time! The random chaos caused by Caitlin's aura made it all the more amusing!
When all as said and done, the whole table had devolved into laughing, and even the two twins seemed to have relaxed. The two of them and Diamond also relished the temporary reprieve from Caitlin's darker side as the unpleasant emotional background static in her faded in the face of simple fun.
Caitlin looked up at the clock, and sighed. “Hey guys, I got to get going. I have an appointment with Carson and Hartford.”
Jericho promptly whipped out a kazoo and began playing the funeral march as she stood. “Gee, thanks for the vote of no-confidence, Joe.”
“Anytime Cait. Anytime.”
“Ass.” She looked to the rest. “All right folks, see you all at the arena in an hour or two.”
Surprisingly, even Adrienne and Janine, the girls with all the 'extras,' actually smiled and waved as Caitlin wandered off, hissing and sparking like a dynamo.
-Hey Jericho, we need to go see Eloise and Ben before we get outta here.-
Jericho nodded as the rest of the table looked on, mildly confused. “We'll do it tonight instead of hitting the guitars.” Diamondback pumped a fist happily as that meant she was off the hook for singing that night.
Everyone else sat thunderstruck when Razor nodded in agreement. Those two never missed a chance to practice their music.
Caitlin wandered into Shuster Hall, looking around. For a school admin building there was surprisingly little activity, probably related to the fracas in the Arena. It was the same every semester. Fortunately her target never changed her routine, even during the Combat Finals.
The package Sam had given her that morning had been from Hartford, complete with new I.D.’s and new documentation confirming all of her old certifications and licenses that would allow her to continue as the official Range Oversight Manager, instead of as the Heavy Weapons Instructor. That had been the final piece confirming that Amelia Hartford knew what had happened, or at least where Whateley's erstwhile heavy instructor was at if not the full details. The cagy old bitch never missed a trick when it came to the staff.
The personal note, however, had been a complete surprise. Like most instructors on-campus, Erik Mahren had always referred to her as Hartass when students weren't in earshot. Hell, he'd even had more reason to than most, but that damned letter made the visit a necessity for Caitlin.
Mindful of her own strength, she stopped just away from Hartford's desk and knocked on the wall, to get the woman's attention. Hartford looked up at her, and her eyes narrowed, slightly as they always did when confronted by a student she didn't know or like. Then recognition set in.
“I got your package. I came to say thanks.” Caitlin's attitude towards Hartford had softened somewhat from the borderline rage she'd been carrying for the woman for the past two weeks after she'd read the note.
Hartford nodded and looked around before standing up. “Walk with me.” The simple command held all of the imperious superiority of the Alphas, or at least the Alphas Caitlin had come to know and loathe over the last three or so years, but she followed without comment. The area was invariably bugged to shit by any number of students, and it wouldn't do to give the listeners, or the recorders, the wrong ideas.
The conference room was never used for anything important that the students were aware of, an illusion carefully fostered by the administration to discourage listeners. After all, every student knew that all of the really interesting stuff happened at Hartford's desk, or in Carson's office. Without a word, both did a sweep of the room, just in case, before they settled in to talk.
“Thanks for the note,” Caitlin began shakily. Some things were just hard to say. “I didn't know that Cat's family had come up to get her belongings early. I'm sorry I thought you were trying to screw with me on the memorial service.”
Hardford's severe demeanor softened a bit, not much, though for once her voice didn't carry the oh-I'm-so-superior attitude. “She was my friend. Just because I didn't approve of her relationship with you didn't mean I was willing to use her death as a way to hurt you.”
“Yeah, I know. I haven't exactly been rational about things over the past month.”
“Anyone who expected you to be rational would be in for a rude shock, but of late it's understandable.” She settled back and looked around. “And regardless of my personal opinions, you did hold that range together better than that slacker Jimenez ever did. Six years, and the only incidents were student fights, one attempted break-in that you thwarted and were injured during, and two fatal burnouts, none of which can be laid at your feet.”
“Yeah, well, doesn't mean you deserved the badmouthing for it. For that I'm sorry, but only for the last month of it.” Caitlin smirked.
“And people wondered why I said you were a complete dog.” Hartford held up a pen, from the desk, seemingly examining it for flaws. “We may have had our differences, and our arguments, but we kept things more or less civil for Cat's benefit. I'd like to keep it that way in her memory, not taint it with a feud with you over something that you should have been able to attend by all rights. I was trying to hold off until Smythe thought you'd be able to take it better, but her parents coming to collect their baby girl's effects and your unexpected burnout pushed my hand.”
Caitlin nodded. “I found Cat's pistol, the one she got when she left the LAPD, the one that went missing. Turns out Trout claimed it on the sly. I got it back to the cage.”
“Ah, good.” Hartford actually smiled. Upon reflection, Cait thought that she should do it more often. “I do believe Trout should be discouraged from this sort of thing in the future. I believe I will have to speak to Chief Delarose about certain security issues that only Third Platoon is properly equipped to handle.”
Caitlin almost winced as she realized that certain statements from Hartford's mouth carried the finality of a Death Warrant for the recipient. That was one of those statements. “Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy.” Lieutenant Trout had long been on Caitlin's shitlist, and if Hartford wanted to play with the bastard, well who was she to deny the older woman her simple fun?
Hartford looked at Caitlin. “I pulled together as complete an I.D. as I could for you, given the parameters Gunny Bardue and Headmistress Carson laid out. Sorry, but your previous grades in school leave much to be desired.”
“Sounds about right. My teachers always were saying I never applied myself.”
“And so far as this goes, when you leave this room, you are a student. From that moment forward, there will be no talks, no explanations, and no playing nice. You will be treated just as any other child here would be. I know it will be a bitter pill, but if you are going to succeed at this charade you will have to accept it. For the record I do not want to know the details of why this charade is necessary. And as soon as you walk out those doors I will pretend that Erik Mahren had a GSD blowout so severe that he was sent to ARC Black for permanent containment due to concerns for the safety of everyone around him.”
Caitlin nodded slowly, not interrupting. She knew what would be said, but knew that it had to be said.
“You, are a sixteen year old girl who was held back in first grade due to learning problems and flunked her freshman year in High School. As a result, you are not on my radar. The Alphas will not become aware of your new status, and I am going to try very hard to forget that this happened. So you, like every other wise student, are going to be very dilligent about keeping your secrets from me.”
“Thank you.”
“Don't thank me until this whole nightmare is fully over. Just do me a favor, and keep an eye out. The whole Halloween thing, combined with a few... other incidents absolutely reek of something foul, and I doubt it's fully played out yet. For now, as of tonight, by the time Combat Finals are finished you are to move into the Mage Suite in Hawthorne. Not my decision, as I would have left you where you are, but Carson wants you somewhere you will have Louis' eyes on you.”
Caitlin nodded again. “I will. I may not be a teacher anymore, but no one fucks with this school on my watch. And I figured I'd be inside the Thorny Den sooner or later.”
“Good, now get out of here. I have work to do.”
Caitlin nodded and walked to the door and stopped when Hartford addressed her one last time.
“And Caitlin. I think Cat would have approved of your choice of name.”
Caitlin smiled sadly in thanks and left.
“Oh my god, that was the perfect end to a crazy day!” Jericho watched through his laptop's wireless connection as Nephandus was dragged out of the arena, whimpering. He'd tapped his computer into the Arena wireless and watched the fight through the cameras surrounding the action. A thin cord ran from the laptop to the back of his skull, allowing him to interface with the machine.
Caitlin walked up to the group and looked at Jericho. “What's he chortling about?”
Phobos looked over and smirked. “One of the Kimbazoids went three-on-one in a fight with earthquakes and a tornado! Oh wow, you totally missed it!”
Diamondback smirked. “You know, the Poesies may be a buncha useless fluff, but at least that Chaka girl knows how to fight! I give her a nine-point-nine.” She was unaware of Jericho and Razorback exchanging an odd look at that statement.
“So what happened?” Caitlin was actually curious.
“Sorry Cait, you really had to have been there. It can't be explained. I mean, wow!” Deimos was impressed, and that usually took some doing.
“Oh come on! I been stuck moving all my shit to Hawthorne and you guys won't even tell me what happened?” Caitlin mock-pouted. “That's cold.”
Jericho smirked and stood up. Razorback joined him. “Okay, ladies, me'n Barney here,” The blind boy accepted the reflexive backhand with good humor, “have an appointment to keep. We'll talk to you all later.”
The two boys moved quickly back to Twain, leaving Caitlin to beg for the details of Chaka's battle-royale. Once they arrived they were all business. They needed to go talk to the weres, and to get there and possibly be back with anything resembling swiftness they were going to have to go through the Grove. Jericho hated the place, as he felt out of sorts and unwelcome for the most part. That had been slowly changing, but the place was still unnerving.
It wasn't the Grove that prompted Jericho to load the shock-rifle and set it to maximum output and set his Personal Protective Field. Nor was it the reason he loaded a backpack with a laptop and a set of medical scanners, as well as a full EMT kit. It wasn't the reason he loaded up every trick and cheap nasty he had ever built for dropping bricks, or was setting up the emergency freight teleporter in the Devisor shop to his Simulator attack-bots and his newly-completed Rafe armor. He strapped an armband with what looked like five epi-pens in sleeves, the kind used for bee-stings among the allergic, and tightened it down so it wouldn't come loose.
Razorback's load wasn't nearly so heavy. His sim armor wasn't perfect, but it was a lot better than just running with his scales as protection. His armored hide was fully capable of withstanding most kinds of physical punishment. That being said, the black, laminated metal plates with the blood-red, runic script worked better, and the helmet was form-fitting with some protection for the eyes. Re-growing those was a bitch, and it hurt like hell. The last thing that Razorback strapped to himself was a professional cricket bat. Jericho knew better than to ask what that thing's purpose was.
The boys slipped out of the dorms at dusk, and went off-campus, heading to the Grove, that nasty little slice of beautiful woodland that was severely off-limits. Razor's path in was vastly different from the one Fey usually led them through, and far less inviting. Fortunately the crazy lizard-kid knew where he was going. The trip was uneventful, and Razorback and Jericho entered the slice of landscape Jericho had cheerfully dubbed “Weretown” about an hour and a half after they left the school. Creepy as it was, to Jericho, the Grove made for a handy shortcut.
The sentries the weres inevitably kept out were in attendance, though none moved to intercept the boys. Jericho could see the wolfen and feline forms in the trees, light and camouflage useless against his texture-based senses. Razorback could smell each one, hear them breathing, and feel their heartbeats. Surrounded and seemingly alone the two boys walked into the den of the monsters that normal folks feared. This suited them fine, in their own special way; the normal people often considered them monsters.
Eloise was there, waiting when they got to the meeting area that had been set up in the interim. Ben stood off to the side and grinned wide as Razorback signed his greeting to the huge man.
“Off the beaten track, boys?” Eloise's grin was unconsciously predatory, and she moved with the ferine grace of a hunting cat.
“Oh you know us, just out for a walk, communing with nature, thumbing my nose at the Grove because we felt like a walkabout while armed to the teeth.” Jericho's return smile was less than predatory, but full of honest, fun-loving wiseass.
“Well in any case, welcome back.” Eloise walked up and clasped each boy's, young men she corrected herself mentally, hand. “So what honestly brings the two of you out here?”
Jericho slid the rifle he'd been carrying onto his shoulder after setting it on safe, a welcome loss of strain on his arms and shrugged. “We popped out because we probably aren't going to get a chance to say bye for the holidays. The 'rents are dragging us all to Oz for the holiday season, so we won't be around again 'till January.”
Eloise snorted. “Ah. Well, that'll be good for you two. Give you a chance to stay out of trouble for two weeks.”
Razorback wandered over to Ben and began signing at the man, who smiled, clasped hands with him and then the two began a silent conversation slightly away.
“Yeah, fat chance of that. We have this knack for either causing, or finding it.”
“That you do. By the way, we do appreciate you volunteering to help us. You've both already done more than we expected, or would have asked.”
Jericho smirked. “Hey, thank Razor. If it weren't for that great scaly numbskull I'd still be bored off my ass in Twain.”
Jericho dodged the flying branch and semi-outraged shriek at the numbskull comment.
“Don't mind him, it's that time of the minute.”
Eloise chuckled and shook her head. “You two are classic, you know that?”
“Yeah, we are. Like a Delorean, really cool until you realize it's a Delorean.”
“Well, you're the second set of guests to arrive today, and we're cooking dinner. Care to join us?”
Razorback's enthusiastic shriek was immediate and Jericho grinned. “Say no to free food? Perish the thought! However... I do request that the burgers be well done this time. I prefer my food to be docile and edible, not trying to attack me in order to flee.”
“All right, smartass, let's head to the house.”
-Wimp.- Razor signed at him.
Jericho's response was simple and elegant, saluting his roomie with a single finger.
She stalked back into the Hawthorne common room, chewing on her lip and trying to puzzle out how to keep occupied and her mind off the problems in her life when she felt a familiar presence behind her. He always did have the courtesy to warn her when he popped up, even though she hadn't really talked to him since a week after Cat had died. She turned to face the pleasant-seeming man behind her, knowing better than to believe the Illusion he presented.
“Hey there Louis, trouble sleeping?” She gave a genuine smile at seeing her friend standing there in his astral form.
Fubar grinned. “I'm surprised any of the psychics on campus are getting any sleep with you stalking around in the mood you've been in for the past couple weeks there Erik, or I guess it's Caitlin now, isn't it?”
“Been a lot to adjust to.”
“I can understand that, although I doubt pacing back and forth across campus is going to improve your mood much.”
Caitlin smirked a bit. “You got any better suggestions?”
“Well there are always those chess games we used to play during downtime between classes.”
“You're on. I'll be down in a minute.”
Caitlin wandered up to her room, thankful for the sort reprieve from the hissing and snapping corona of energy when she breached the wards in her room and hunted around amidst all her loose stuff, hunting for the chessboard. She found it and began hiking down to the basement, where Fubar's pool lay sequestered from the rest of Hawthorne.
Fubar was below the water, as always, and she dodged the occasional ball of snot that he was prone to hocking up. She hit the stairs and went down into the viewing room and took a moment to reflect on the fact that all in all she got off easy. Fubar was probably the most fucked up guy in the world, but he still managed to put on a cheerful face for everyone around him. She wished she could keep the same upbeat attitude that he did.
“That takes years of practice you know. Took me a while to get to the point where I could cope with this sanely.” Fubar was the only psychic in the world she gave any leeway with her thoughts, and he returned the favor by being her counselor in the past. He was the reason she and Cat McQuiston had been together. Fubar had helped Erik knuckle down and get the courage to ask the fiery little instructor out the first time.
“I know. It just makes me feel like a shithead wandering around feeling sorry for myself knowing how easy I got off by comparison to some folks.” Caitlin grimaced.
“Everyone's got their issues, and you seem to have gotten hit with the hammer several times in quick succession. It's normal, besides, all this happened too soon after Halloween and Cat.”
Caitlin frowned a bit. “Yeah. Here soon I need to say my good byes.”
“Wait till you're ready for that.”
Caitlin pulled out a folding table and a chair, setting up the chessboard and butting the table against the viewing glass as she had done so many times in the past. She sat down and faced off while Fubar's massive form coasted closer, eyes looking out. He really did look like Cthulu's illegitimate love-child. “Cthulu plushie” was the name she used when she wanted to really rib him. He never bothered using his astral body for her comfort while they played. She wasn't bothered by his form anymore, having driven herself hard to get over her prejudices during her first year at Whateley. All in all it had helped her be a better teacher.
“So what are you planning to do once you get through this hurdle you're trying not to think about?” The voice settled soothingly in her mind.
“Going to continue going to classes. I've got to relearn how to interact with everyone and get some power control, and on top of that, learn how to be a girl.” Caitlin smirked as she made the first move. “Stupidly enough it's the whole being a girl thing that's been causing me the least of my troubles, although sitting to pee is getting annoying.”
Fubar chuckled. “Been pulling your usual trick of just ignoring the problem and getting used to the idea instead?”
“Lord give me the strength to change the things I can, the patience to accept the things I can't and the wisdom to know the difference.”
“Or in your case, if I can't fix it, fuck it?”
“More or less. Why stress over shit you can't change? Fix what you can and learn to live with the rest, or improvise.” Caitlin wished it didn't feel like empty bravado when she said that.
Fubar and Caitlin had shifted turns in chess several times during the conversation. She wasn't really paying attention to the game so much as talking to Fubar, which somewhat compensated for his telepathic talent he couldn't fully shut off. He was smarter than she was, but he couldn't read her plans for the game.
“Well, Caitlin, if it makes you feel better your mind really hasn't changed any. For better or worse either way, you're still the stubborn, smarter-than-average repressed Jarhead grunt you always were.”
“Small favors bud.” She looked him in his eerily human eyes, past the facial tentacles. “But I kind of wish I'd gotten the Exemplar intelligence boost. Might have made my life easier in some ways.”
“Maybe. But you never know. Maybe you have other compensations that are just as good.”
Caitlin grimaced as she moved her bishop on a direct path to block Fubar's queen. “Yeah, if I ever get the binding tattoos to work.”
Fubar's queen took the Bishop and Caitlin looked at the board. She was toast in three turns. Oh well.
“You don't sound too hopeful on that score.”
Caitlin frowned. “I still have to figure out the last piece and even then if I do it myself, I might still wind up a mindless, drooling zombie.”
“You willing to take that risk?”
“Damned right I am. I can't even touch my friends without risking them dying. Hell I touch myself and it feels like someone flayed one of my nerves and is rubbing a salt lick on it.” Caitlin moved a rook, not really paying attention to what she'd done.
“There's a pleasant image.”
Fubar caught Caitlin in check-mate and the two reset the board, his pieces sliding back into their places without being touched, eerily. She turned the board and her friend slid a pawn forward.
“Just a heads-up Erik. You're not exactly the same. Everything's different about you and I don't mean your gender bender.”
“I already figured that out Foob. Hell I bleed some kind of red steel and every time I see it my instincts tell me I should be doing something with it.”
“Fun. But you're going to be a hard one for people to handle. Your personality alone makes it difficult for anyone to keep you under any semblance of control. Add to that you just about reek of some kind of power, and you're probably in for an interesting time.”
“Great, having a Chinese moment there Foob?”
“Maybe. Although I think if your life wasn't interesting or nightmarishly difficult in some way you'd waste away and die.” His mental contact held an edge of humor to it.
“A fact only made worse by the fact that I have a metric crapton of memories involving being a slave to other people and things I can't really describe as people.” Caitlin and Fubar began a fast-paced game of chess where each took perhaps a second before seemingly randomly moving their pieces. Caitlin was, but Fubar wasn't.
“I can feel the bare edges of that. I'm not sure I want to have to feel those fully. It's unpleasant to say the least.”
“Heh. Should feel it from this side.” Caitlin stuck her tongue out at him.
“Thank you, but no. I pride myself in not being as crazy as you when you're feeling normal.”
“It's good to talk to you again Louis. I hadn't realized how much I missed just being able to talk to someone.”
“It's good to talk to you too again, finally. But if I may? I'd really suggest that you start learning to shield on top of that weird land mine defense you figured out for dealing with psychics. Some of the things you have floating close to the surface could really damage someone.”
“Wouldn't want a kid to learn the consequences of doing things they aught not to, eh Louis?”
Caitlin grinned and began playing in earnest, burning the time away with her friend until she felt the combined might of Louis' fatigue and hunger just before the arrival of his last meal for the day. She said good-bye, trying to be upbeat for his benefit and scampered up to the showers to get herself cleaned up for the evening
Du Meng Kuang, AKA “Breaker” to the rest of the student body, walked up to Poe about two hours before lights out. He idly nodded to Hippolyta, who glowered at him fiercely as he walked up to the door of the cottage, bedecked in his usual attire of digital camouflage and combat boots. The Chinese-American exemplar rolled his eyes as Whateley's biggest bull-dyke man-hater moved to intercept him before he could go in.
“Evening, Hippolyta.” He watched her warily. The last thing he wanted was a fight on the doorsteps of another cottage, so he kept his tone light and friendly.
“What do you want?” Hippolyta's tone was rough and hostile, as could be expected towards any non-Poe student with a Y-chromosome.
“I'm here to talk to one of the Kimbas, not invade. So if you would be so kind I'd like to ask Mrs. Horton's permission to borrow them for about an hour.”
“Which one?”
“While it's not any of your business, I'm looking for Lancer.” Breaker gave Hippolyta a steady look. He knew better than to let her intimidate him. He'd been a Sophomore when she was a frosh, and he was well aware of Hippy's propensity towards bullying the male gender.
“And if I don't let you in?”
Breaker grinned. “If you don't let me in, then tomorrow I'll come back again. Only this time I'll bring Sergeant-Major Smythe and Bomber. You do remember Bomber don't you?”
Hippolyta gave him a foul expression and stood aside. “If you cause any trouble...”
“Hippolyta if I cause any trouble it'll be by accident. Or in self defense, either way. I'm expecting this meeting to go peacefully, or should I have brought my field kit?”
Hippolyta just growled as Breaker stepped into the cottage and made a beeline straight for the house mother's den. She didn't quite let him out of her sight the entire time he was there, at least keeping the cocky male in earshot the entire time. Normally she'd have just sent someone like him packing save for two things. First, he was a senior, and there was a certain amount of deference to the senior class expected in the school. Second, screwing with a Grunt without provocation was a good way to have his entire team out gunning for a piece of you.
Breaker walked up to the door and knocked firmly, but gently. The wooden door wasn't up to the kind of strength output he was capable of. After a moment, Mrs. Horton opened the door and smiled.
“Breaker! I haven't seen you here since Cass graduated!” She honestly welcomed the Chinese exemplar's presence. He always avoided causing trouble with her students, mindful of the mental issues other people had.
“Hello Mrs. Horton.” He smiled, “I'm just here to get permission to talk to, and maybe borrow one of your Kimba kids.”
“They haven't caused more trouble have they?”
“Not unless you count Lancer catching my eye as a possible recruit.”
“Yep. Trouble. Just do me a favor, no trying to coerce the boy into the service.”
Breaker nodded. “Not a problem, ma'am. I ain't the Marine recruiter, and that's his job. I'm more or less fishing to see if Lancer's got what it takes mentally for the team. Been keeping an eye on him, and he seems to be the solid type.”
“Solid would be a good description of the boy. Although I doubt he'll want to leave the girls.”
Breaker let a loopy grin widen across his face. “If he did want to leave that pack of exemplar hotties I'd be worried about his mental state.” Even though he'd spent time in Poe with Cass, his girlfriend who lived there during her stay at Whateley, he was blissfully unaware of the state of affairs in the cottage. It was willful ignorance at its finest. He didn't want to see Poe for what it really was, so he didn't.
“Very well. You may have Lancer so long as he is returned by curfew.”
“Yes ma'am. I'll make sure he's back in time.”
“Then go do your thing. Last I saw he was in the common-room with the girls.”
Breaker nodded and wandered over to the Poe common-room, and stood in the doorway, watching the kids in there. He noted that an entire corner of the common-room was marked by a spider-web of hammocks, ropes and other things with the notorious Team Kimba all in attendance. Hank was leaning against the wall, deep in thought while the girls were looking annoyed about something. Sometimes silence is the best thing to gauge the opposition, although in this case he wanted to make sure he didn't accidentally antagonize a bunch of froshes by accident. He considered himself better than that.
“It's not like we started it.” Fey said irritably. “Whatever they're up to, it's not good and they've already tried to kill me twice.”
“It's not like we're optionless here, Nikki.” Hank considered carefully. “These Voodoo-wolf things aren't exactly students and they seem dangerous as hell, so we might actually be able to get Stormwolf and the Wild Pack to help out too.”
Chaka rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right, then we have to deal with Mister Sanctimonious watching us to make sure we toe the line. He isn’t going to like how Fey and Sara do business. God only knows if he sees how Jericho and Razorback fight he's likely to have a coronary, and Bunker and Mule, while they are bloody good at what they do, aren't enough backup against these things.”
So... This was actually what had been occupying the moments when Bunker and Mule seemingly drifted into oblivion every few days. He'd almost been hoping that Bunker's wild stories had been the product of an over-active imagination. Breaker's eyes narrowed a bit as he waited, but no more information was forthcoming, as the elfin redhead named Fey was staring at him rather harshly. The other Kimbas eyes followed, and Breaker found himself under scrutiny more quickly than he would have liked. Girl must be an empath or something.
He walked forward easily. “So, you lot are why my two junior Grunts keep disappearing every couple days to run 'land navigation practice' huh? And someone's tried to kill you twice.” He nodded to Fey. “Care to share what's on your minds?”
“Not really. It's kind of a family thing.” Chaka looked in askance at Fey's response but the redhead shrugged.
“Oh, in this case I'm afraid I must insist.” Breaker looked to each of the Kimbas in turn. “But for now, I'll let you get back to it. I just came to borrow Lancer tonight if he is willing. I would appreciate it if one of you explained later why Bunker and Mule go hopping off into the woods every couple nights, and occasionally come back bloody I would much appreciate it. I'd rather not have to interrogate them.”
Hank stepped forward. “Why do you want to talk to me?”
“Nothing bad, I just want to talk. I've been watching you for a couple months now and would like to speak to you to get to know you a bit better. I probably won't keep you out too long as this...” His eyes scanned the Kimbas, “Seems to have some level of urgency.”
Hank nodded. “Ok, where do you want to talk?”
“Range Four is usually private enough at this hour. So let's take a walk.”
Hank shrugged apologetically to the girls and wandered outside. Breaker turned to the girls. “Oh, ladies? If no one comes forward with what the hell is going on in the next two nights to either myself, or Deadeye, I'm afraid you will no longer be able to count on Bunker and Mule being able to get away to assist you. From your tone, whatever you're doing sounds dangerous and I will not have you putting my teammates at risk without the rest of us knowing what they're getting into.” He looked at each stunned and mildly angered expression, and then added, “Oh and by the way, Chaka? Nice going in the Combat Finals this afternoon. Three on one in a crash scenario? Giving you a B was robbery.”
He turned and left as all of the Kimbas' eyes widened at the young man's blunt, up-front ultimatum, and by the time anyone thought to argue he was gone.
“You know, that little ultimatum's just going to piss them off.” Hank said mildly as they left the cottage.
“I'm aware. Just as I'm aware of what is going on with the weres that Whateley's leasing the property from, as well as those 'Voodoo-wolf' things.”
Hank started. “Mule told you about it?”
“No, Bunker did. She was fishing for information and wanting to know how to get authorized to have more rocket ammunition released to her for 'extracurricular target practice.' And Mule's got one of Jericho's biometric scanner gadgets bolted to his 240 that has some very specialized filters in it. She told me and Deadeye what was up and we've been waiting for you to get up off your asses and ask the rest of us to help. Hell, Bomber's practically rabid over the thought of some hard kills that he's not going to get arrested for.”
“So why the asshole act?”
“The hardest thing for someone to do is to ask for help. Usually they sit and chew on the problem for an eternity until it's almost too late to go back. While myself and Deadeye are interested in helping out with this nasty shit, neither of us are interested in subordinating our team to a pack of froshes. We're also not interested in trying to take over a conflict involving said froshes whose tactics wouldn't mesh well with ours, or a were community that's notorious for having an independent streak a mile wide. Besides, if we keep the weres intact, Whateley prospers onward, without a major upheaval on the land rights issue.”
“So if you want to help, why not come out and say it?”
“First step is for you lot to pull your heads out of your butts and realize not all of the teams fall under the classic hero/villain stereotype. If you do a bit of digging there are at least three teams who would be willing to help you skin some demon-wolves, no questions asked, and be brutal and destructive enough to make it stick. You're not going to want to necessarily look at just 'the good guys' here, Declan. You need to start looking at options you haven't considered. But for now, that's enough proselytizing out of me.”
“So if you're not here to talk about the wolves, what are you here for?”
Breaker smiled as they continued wandering out into the woods, into the main cannon range area. The sound of a screaming, high-velocity machinegun sounded off through the trees. “Back in September, me and Deadeye got emails from one Colonel Roger Declan, asking us to keep an eye out for his son, give him a spot and see how he does.”
“Dad asked you all to yank me into the Grunts?”
“Yeah, he did. But that isn’t how we do business. Just like the military we're all-volunteer. You either come to us as Bunker did this year, or we watch and see who might have what it takes before approaching them. Your dad asked us to grab you, so while I have a lot of respect for Army Colonels in general, I decided to watch and see how you did rather than drag you in screaming, thinking that you had to do it to make Dad happy and possibly embarrass the shit out of yourself in the process.”
“Thanks, I think.”
“It's a compliment, Lancer. If I thought for a minute that you couldn't hack the job we wouldn't be having this conversation. So far among your team, you've shown the highest aptitude tactically, as well as a knack for not being a whirling dervish of chaos once you get rolling. We don't look for power and pretty like the Alphas; we look for skill, ability, talent and a style that will actually mesh with a team that relies on coordination and tactics over raw brute force. Hell, I'll be honest, even kids like the Outcasts I'd pick over most of the pretty ones here at the school. They may be a pack of sneaky, underhanded and violent bastards, but they're not hamstrung by their own delusions of grandeur.”
“Ok. I can buy that, but I already have a team. I can't just leave them in the lurch.”
“Don't worry about that. There's already a precedent for that kind of thing. Hell, Slapdash ran with the A-Team you know, the pack of hokey armchair military tacticians, for most of the year last year while he was running with us. We just ask that if you do run with us, you keep our team's secrets and weak points in the team. Besides, try to split you up from the hottie brigade? We're not remotely THAT stupid.”
Hank nodded. “I'll consider it, but it'd be the same with the Kimbas too. I'm not diming out my friends to another team, even if I'm on that team.”
Breaker smiled as they entered the heavy weapons range. The other five Grunts stood at attention in full combat gear, and sporting a mix of light and heavy weaponry. Slapdash's power harness was distinctive, being about seven feet tall, and sporting a 20-mm, tri-barrelled autocannon, and what looked like a multipack rocket launcher on the other arm hard point.
“Well, Declan, I'm glad you feel that way, because nobody likes a buddy-fucker, even when they're the ones benefitting from the fucking. Now for your enjoyment, we'll show you what we can do. So, I have one last question for you before we begin. Are any of the Kimba girls single?”
Dinner was short, and Razorback was fed again and happy, the small group of mutants and weres wandered through the woods near the Weretown community. Jericho was keeping an eye on things while Eloise and Ben talked to Sara Waite, who'd come along looking to talk to Eloise about the Voodoo-wolves. Carl, Sara's errant werewolf “mate,” whom was annoying, obnoxious and a general pain in the ass was tagging along ostensibly to provide “security.” This was his word for harassing Razorback to the point where the lizard-kid was stalking in a foul mood, growling unconsciously, with the red nictitating membranes half-slid across his eyes. The rigidly erect spines on his body gave testament to the fact that he was seriously debating injuring Carl, possibly eating him, if the posture and sign language were any indication.
“Relax Razor, come over here for a minute while Sara and the weres talk. We'll do a bit of recon for a few.” Jericho said mildly. Normally Razorback would blow off the kind of mockery and taunting Carl was laying on pretty thick, but he was verging on a full-out frenzy. Not a good thing.
-I can take that shit from ignorant pinky bipeds but I'll be DAMNED if I'll take it from people who KNOW.- Razor's signing was jerky, agitated, but he came over and started walking. His growling became louder as Carl started following.
“Hey Carl, stay here and keep an eye on Eloise and Sara, just in case.”
“Shit, they don't need me to...” He was interrupted as Jericho took the safety off his shock rifle and aimed at the were's torso. Carl had seen what crazy devisor-tech weapons could do and halted.
Jericho smiled in a way that could only be described as evil. “Actually, I insist. Wait here and we'll give you a milk-bone later when we get back.”
Carl's eyes narrowed and Jericho's face grew hard. “Me and my boy gonna talk about private shit. You're disinvited. So stay here and wait or we're gonna make you sit, Carl.”
“CARL! Sit down on that stump, shut your damned mouth and quit antagonizing our guests!” Eloise's voice was like a whipcrack, and the young werewolf unconsciously winced and did what he was told.
Jericho smiled at Eloise, and snapped to attention, bringing his shock-rifle straight in front of him, rifle-saluting the were leader. He almost pulled it off except for the dark blue EMT uniform he was wearing didn't look military enough, and he wandered off, chuckling to himself at Carl's disgusted look.
Once they were away, Jericho looked at his buddy who STILL wasn't calming down. “Heya Razor, you ok? You seem like you're on edge man, moreso than usual.”
-I'm getting rapidly sick of that little shitweasel mouthing off at me like I'm a dumb animal.- Razor's signing was jerky and rough.
“I know man, but this is oddball even for you. I mean c'mon. You don't even get this riled when those New Olympian pricks make snide comments about leash laws with you.”
-I don't know. I'm pissed, I feel off, like something's not right, and it's been like this all week.-
“Yeah. I noticed. You’ve been stalking back and forth like a tiger in a cage every night for the last week. Come on Razor, you're better than this. You can't tell me it's just Carl that's pissing you off this bad.”
Razorback just shrugged. He was acting like what happened whenever he was forced to use a vodor to talk. It was like watching someone try to do a fire walk over broken glass instead of smoldering ashes.
“Let's take us a few minutes alright man? We'll get you calmed, then we'll head back and say good-bye to Eloise and company. Then it's smooth sailing all the way to Oz and seeing your folks again.”
Razor nodded, and sat down on a tree stump, elbows on his upper knees, the onse that didn't bend backward, and started taking deep breaths while Jericho sat and watched his friend worriedly.
“So what do you think about Caitlin, man? I know she seems cool, and I been thinking about asking her to join us in the sim team, as well as hanging out with us.”
Razorback looked up. -Do it. She's an odd duck, and she's the first exemplar pretty I've met that would rather hang out with us than the other, more popular crowds. Plus she's cool, funny and she doesn't look at me, Sandra or you with fear, revulsion, or even a hint of pity. She takes us as we are, no questions. Plus she stood toe to toe with Bloodwolf's Ultraviolent crew without going down, so I'm betting she'd make a good addition in the sims, too.-
“I was hoping you'd say that, bro. I talked to Sandra about it last night, and she just asked why we hadn't done it before now.”
-Because you're a paranoid, overprotective nerdboy, that's why.- Razor looked Jericho in the eyes. -I know you're covering me and Sandra, man, and I figure you dress like a wonky retard as much to draw attention from us as it amuses you. You're that guy who draws fire from his friends because he knows he can take it. But you've been neglecting yourself in the process. Like that starvation diet bullshit we made you stop.-
“Yeah, and I thank you for making me see the error of my ways. And you're right about my dress code, to a point. It really solidified when Hartass about puked when she saw the look though.”
-And you didn't get her expression on camera? What's wrong with you?-
“I'm crazy, not stupid, Jack.”
-Ok I'll give you that.-
“Somehow I doubt I'll be running interference for Cait.”
-Oh yes you will. I don’t know about you, but the girl's posture and personality are violent. No offense to Cait, but she's got a bit too many openly belligerent and combative cues to be able to stay out of trouble.-
“You noticed that too, huh?”
-Yeah. She's really cool, but I have a feeling that girl has her secrets, and she has no intention of sharing.-
“Hey, everyone has some of those. Just so long as those secrets don't bite us in the ass, yeah?”
-Yeah. It'll be a bitch if she learns ASL. Diamond likes to talk about our gender wonk problems that way. Might have to can it during lunch periods.-
“Yeah. I really dearly wish people weren't so fucking touchy about that shit. It's fucking retarded.”
-All right, I still feel off, but I think I can face the fucktard.-
“Fair enough. Let's roll bro.”
-But if that retard starts again I'm gonna make him pay dearly for his asshole behavior.-
“Just don't kill him.”
-Wasn't planning to.-
The two boys wandered back into the clearing and Jericho grinned. “So you see, Razor, on the seventh day when I rested...”
“Oh no. Jericho's finally given into delusions of godhead,” Sara smirked as the two boys walked up to the small group. Carl took the opportunity to stand up and wander over, idly swinging a stick back and forth. Razor just eyeballed him with an expression Jericho had come to know and recognize as a prelude to severely screwing with someone.
“It's only a delusion until I brainwash my own cult.”
Eloise shook her head and Ben chuckled
Jericho, sometimes I wonder about you,” the big bear of a man said with good humor. “Although I gotta say, your sense of humor's been good for us.”
Eloise nodded. “You boys planning to head back to Whateley tonight or you need bunk space?”
“Probably best if we head back to campus tonight.” Jericho jerked his head at Carl, who was waving the stick at Razorback. The velociraptor looking kid seemed almost hypnotized by the mobile piece of wood. Jericho groaned inwardly. Razorback's vision was not motion-oriented, contrary to the current activity, or some silly dinosaur movies. “This is gonna be bad.” He muttered to himself.
“You want the stick, boy?” Carl waved the stick at Razorback, who was hopping back and forth, following the stick like an enthused dog. When Carl whipped the stick off into the darkness, and yelled, “Go get it boy!” Razorback tore off into the woods at full speed, barely a blur to anyone's vision.
“Stupid fucking lizard.” Carl said cheerfully.
“Carl, if we trained you better, could you be more of a fucking asshole?” Ben snarled at the pup that stood there with an unapologetic look on his face.
Eloise looked about ready to start yelling when a distant crash sounded, followed by the sound of tearing metal, another crash, more tearing metal, and several metallic crunches.
Sara looked off into the woods. “I think Razorback found the stick.”
Sure enough a rapidly-moving speedster lizard skidded to a halt in front of Carl, spraying him with a small shower of dirt and leaves. In his mouth he held a truck axle, dragging one wheel along the ground. The other wheel spun slowly in the air with a tic tic tic tic tic noise. Razor dropped it on Carl's feet, ignoring the yelp of pain and wagging his tail on all fours. The look was predatory, and to Jericho's lack of eyes, and Sara's perceptions, his posture promised further pain.
Eloise looked at Carl, annoyed. “First it's you getting mixed up with demon-girl, then you aggravate Merry, and now you can't leave the giant clawed, spined mutant kid who tears the demons apart like a wolf in a chicken hatchery alone? When will you learn?”
Jericho sighed, as Carl's jaw worked up and down like a beached fish. “You just had to encourage him, didn't you?”
Carl didn't hear him, he was instead staring at the expensive hubcaps on the wheel that he, himself had bought with his own ready cash a few months back. “My truck! You wrecked my truck you dirty, stinking scaled...” The stream of invective continued for several minutes while Razorback happily bathed in Carl's frustrations. The poor idiot was too stunned to even get angry.
“Don't worry, Carl, walking is good for you.” Sara snickered as she wandered over to stand by Jericho.
Eloise and Ben were trying desperately not to burst out laughing at Carl's stupidity, and Razor's puppylike revenge.
-Consider yourself lucky. Next time I'm fetching your femur.-
Carl fixed Razorback with a look of pure disgust and hate. “What did the stupid lizard just say to me?”
Jericho gave a pleasant smile and said, “He said, and I quote.... Arf, arf arf, arfarfarf, arf.”
Ben and Eloise actually started snickering.
“He just bet me a million dollars that you won't have the guts to throw the stick again.” Sara pretended to examine her claws as she talked. “I've seen his investment portfolio too. You're on Razorback.”
“Is that right?” Carl picked up another stick and lobbed it into the woods again, showing his typical lack of common sense.
Jericho just sighed again, and Eloise looked at Carl like she was debating killing him herself.
“Hope you like the money, honey.” Carl smirked at Sara.
“Here we go again.” Jericho turned to Sara, pretending not to watch.
Eloise started moving forward, irritation writ plain on her face, with Ben flanking, face like a thunder cloud. They never got close.
Razorback let out an oddly quizzical chirp, then whipped the cricket bat off his back and attacked, showing just how fast a speedster going full-throttle could hit someone, repeatedly. Carl found his knees slammed out from under him, his torso and spine struck about four times apiece as Razorback whipped the bat around him, then ended up slammed to the ground by a shot to the face. Razor backed up as Carl whimpered and howled in pain, trying to stand, then ripped forward and proceeded to beat the ever-living shit out of the cocky werewolf with the bat in the span of a human breath.
Sara sighed as Jericho watched the spectacle with an immense amount of satisfaction. “Testosterone, the curse of modern man.”
Jericho smirked, “Are you sure about a bet for money, Sara? I thought he said that he was betting your boy here wouldn't be able to stand for the next ten minutes when he got done with him.”
“Well, he did mention something about femurs...” she stopped when the sound of claws tearing flesh sounded out and Carl screamed over a loud, wet, cracking noise. “Oh, there it is.”
Jericho went pale, as he could “see” the whole thing clearly through his odd, all around vision. He counted his blessings that he couldn't make out colors, or he might have puked. Razorback was really on edge. Ben and Eloise had stopped cold, their eyes wide and stunned at the scene of their resident moron getting something a long time in coming.
“I so did not need to see that.” Jericho's voice was a bit weak.
Thankfully, Sara was there to distract him from the little horror scene playing out nearby, snuggling up to him. “He's a Were, it'll grow back. Besides, all this violence is so... stimulating.”
Jericho unconsciously put an arm around the beautiful girl pressed against him, momentarily tuning out Razorback's revenge. “If this is a dream, then my alarm clock had better not go off again.”
“Yes, that was annoying...” Sara mumbled just quietly enough that he couldn't hear.
“Sorry, Sara, I couldn't make that out.”
“I said, that'll teach him to try and give a dog a bone.”
“More like the dog got boned there.”
Razorback was waving the offending bone above the whining, pained werewolf in near-exact mimicry of the asshole's previous behavior.
Jericho shuddered. “That's just disturbing.” He palmed a shrieker grenade, just in case Razorback snapped and went even MORE overboard. The sonic emitter would flatten his buddy faster than anything under the sun if need be.
“Some people just have it coming.” Sara looked into his blank, white eyes as she spoke.
“You know, we never tried that particular method.” Eloise looked thoughtful as Razorback continued waving the bone tauntingly over the whimpering were, then whipped it into the woods and watched disgustedly as Carl let out a cry and began dragging himself after it.
-Asshole.-
Razorback stalked away from Carl and began pacing, agitated again, like he wasn't sure whether to leave and calm down, or go rip Carl's head off and put the son of a bitch out of his misery.
“Suddenly my appreciation for Razor's restraint at school just skyrocketed.” Jericho watched his friend, more than a bit horrified, even if the punishment was appropriate. Sara simply nodded in response.
Eloise nodded towards Razorback. “Can we formally adopt him? I mean all the way?”
Ben shook his head. “No dear, there are pack laws against doing that to family.”
“Pity.”
“We're going to have to print color-coded t-shirts. Something that says 'MINE! HANDS OFF!” Sara chuckled mildly.
“I think that might be the meanest thing Jack has ever done to someone.” Jericho watched his friend carefully. Jack was still furious, and he was moving like he was stalking something.
Ben growled, “I think Carl might learn to not piss people off so quickly. Besides, he's been antagonizing our friend there since they met.”
Sara looked in askance at Ben. “You think having a dinosaur rip out his femur while his friends watch without lifting a finger will sink in?”
Ben nodded. “Just might. All right, I need to go see to dipshit. We might need him over the next couple days, and we can't afford to have him laid up for a month re-growing that bone.”
Sara sighed and nodded. “You're probably right; kicking him while he's down might be counterproductive.”
Ben nodded and stalked into the woods after the errant pup.
Jericho looked to Eloise. “Sorry, Ma'am. I don’t know what's gotten into Razor, he's been a lot pissier of late.” Eloise's return shrug was an elegant reply in its simplicity.
Sara walked up to Razorback and wiped some of the blood off his face. “Feel better?” She licked her fingers and smirked.
-Not really. Something's not right, and human blood tastes like shit.-
“That's what I've heard. I guess I just like new things.”
-No offense, but I need some time to calm down. I'm still fighting the urge to kill that dickwipe.-
“And how long have you felt this irritable?”
-About a week now.-
“If you were a girl I'd ask about PMS. Jericho, honey, how many sensors are you carrying at this moment?”
Jericho started rummaging through his pack. “Enough to sink the Bismarck from field emissions alone, why?”
“Be a dear and give Razor the once over while he takes a seat and a few nice, deep, cleansing breaths... maybe a drink of water.”
Jericho nodded and brought out one of his biometrics scanner, and ran the triage protocols, running the devise across Razorback for a few moments, then ran a cable to the back of his head to read the data.
“Heartbeat's up, breathing's up, blood pressure's up, but other than that all normal for Razor after he's gotten riled.”
“What about noises, high pitched sound higher than the human ear?”
“He'd be in frenzy right now if that was a problem.”
“I’m just being thorough, dear. Besides, we're in a village full of weres, someone else would have heard it anyway. Ok, Razor, did you just wake up one morning feeling out of sorts?”
Jericho considered carefully as he spoke. “I've only seen him like this right before...” He paused and drew the shock-rifle, dumping the safety and spinning it back up to maximum power. “Right before those fucking voodoo-wolves show up.”
“Bonus.” Sara grinned.
“He's been getting like this at school, at night. I think the voodoo-wolves have decided that you and Fey are a bit too much of a pain in the ass Sara. They seem to have tracked you home.”
“God, I hope so.” Sara's expression was predatory. “Question, though. How come we're not swamped with voodoo-wolves right now?”
“Easy. You infect a city, you get nuked. Wait, you meant right now, didn't you?”
Sara nodded.
The sounds of snarling and screaming erupted near the houses, and whatever was bugging Razorback snapped into full clarity as the spined nightmare released his distinctive, ululating hunting call and burst into full-speed, tearing off towards the homes of the weres.
Jericho pulled out an odd piece of headgear, and strapped it over his ear, as he began running. He jacked it into his skull-jack and poured on the speed, which was surprisingly swift for a pudgy kid. All the running coached by Razorback had been helping him.
“That's why!” he yelled as Sara easily paced him.
“Methinks there's a slight flaw in our working hypothesis.” The demon-girl was speaking easily while Jericho was huffing under his load.
“And that flaw is?” He was having trouble talking as his breathing quickened.
“If they want me, there's much easier ways. And I've never seen a voodoo-wolf with orichalcum claws.”
“And iron for Fey, I know!” The statement came out quick while the blind boy tried to regulate his breathing. “So what the *huff* fuck... *wheeze* are they looking for?”
“Ok, what are the other commonalities to their appearances? Razor, you, the outcasts...”
Jericho was beyond talking by the time they got halfway to Weretown. “Cant... talkandrun.. At... the same time!”
“Humans.”
“Go.”
“What?”
Jericho took a deep breath. “Go! I'll catch up!”
Sara looked concerned but saw the hard set of the boy's jaw and nodded, flickering and seeming to vanish as she poured on the speed.
Jericho caught his second wind as he entered the Weretown perimeter, running straight for the worst sounds of fighting, homing in on the sounds of animal whines and checking motionless forms. The Triage monitor plugged into his head immediately began overlaying his grayscale vision with colored brackets marking each living being, green for Razorback and Sara, Yellow for the weres, and red for the voodoo-wolves, regardless of actual species.
He spotted a pair of Voodoo-Wolves dragging what looked like three unconscious weres away from the combat and laid in, dropping to a knee and firing his shock-rifle at the one closest to him. It would injure the unconscious weres, but better broken bones than being left to the tender mercies of the enemy. The air distortion fired from the rifle hit the voodoo-wolf, a great bear-like creature mixed with something... other, something foul. He couldn't make out the full form, as his odd vision left the monster hazy and indistinct, which was probably what kept him from suffering the same kind of mental trauma that those poor cop bastards had dealt with.
The distortion exploded in a shockwave, blasting the voodoos and their captives apart in a great burst, flinging all of them like rag dolls. Jericho hit a trigger on his EMT vest and ripping pops announced the teleportation of his simulator bots. The simple, arachnid, robotic killers had been fitted with biometric scanners and programmed to seek out voodoo-wolves as preferred targets autonomously and kill them.
Two of the leaper bots bounded forward and tackled the voodoos, tearing at them with bladed legs as the monsters tried to get past the robots and recover their captives. Jericho ignored the voodoos and started dragging the unconscious weres together and set his PPF for proximity activation. It was just in time as a great cougar-thing leaped at him, and hit the force-field the PPF interposed between it and him. An Arc-Spider let rip with an electron burst, man-made lightning that tore through the corrupted werecougar's body, flash-frying several organs. Two more spiders added to the thunder, and the voodoo-wolf burned, twitching as Jericho's Triage monitor marked foreign objects in several of the bleeding wounds of his patients.
A pair of needle-nose pliers did the job quickly, pulling black, pulsing claw-fragments from the wounds until the monitor gave the all-clear. The spider-bots were busy chasing down, shredding or simply blasting at the voodoos that got too close to him and his charges as Jericho thanked whatever gods were watching that the patients weren't awake for the next part.
A metal spike heated to red as Jericho activated the Devise and ran it through the wounds of the unconscious weres. Heat slowed and killed the toxins, and he saw the gunk disintegrate as the brand cauterized the wounds. It wasn't a cure, but it would buy time that the weres might desperately need. He almost hit his panic button that would send an emergency signal to Poe, twice, but the bots burned down the voodoos, claws unable to penetrate the armored little monstrosities, or his PPF shield. For the millionth time Jericho thanked the heavens that he was always over-prepared. If he hadn't, he'd be dead already.
As he finished patching up the unconscious weres as much as he could, he drew a metal spike out of his pack, and drove it into the ground, then began running to the next combat hotspot, blasting two more Voodoo-Weres with his shock rifle as the spike caused a black bubble of energy to surround his wards, encasing them in a force-bubble permeable only by oxygen.
He and his spider-bots reached the next crowd of fighting as Jericho began the process anew, trying to calm a screaming were while he pulled out the claw shards, then cauterizing wounds after administering a type of fast-acting morphine he'd concocted and tested thoroughly.
Somewhere nearby, he heard Razorback's feral shriek of victory, then another...
Jericho sat away from the weres after the battle ended. It wasn't exactly safe to be human near a pack of battle-wired werecritters after a fight. He didn't feel calm and collected afterwards, the way the superheroes always seemed to be. His hands were shaking as they gripped the Shock-rifle, trying to sort out what had happened. The sims were one thing, but real combat was different, no matter how much the sims did to make it real. This... This wasn't a video game, and he found himself thanking God on high for letting him see the end alive. The shakes would go, he'd had them before, but he knew from the last time he'd seen a fight with the fiery Fey, that there would be nightmares to follow, and he'd have to cope with it, even as he'd begun to learn to deal with a real life-or-death situation.
Razorback was already asleep, having gorged on the contents of Ben's meat-cooler after his extended berserk fit. Usually when Razor flipped he was indiscriminate, but against these things, he was like a guided missile, and each time he fought them he was getting more effective. Word was he'd fought and killed three of the damned things at once tonight before moving on to savage more. It was a bit terrifying to contemplate, like Jack was made to kill these things.
He noted Sara walking up, covered in cobalt ash, interrupting his brooding thoughts.
“They don't do that voodoo so well,” the demon-girl said as she sat next to him, seeming not to notice the blood and other things covering parts of his clothing.
Jericho nodded slowly. “Yeah, fortunately, Eloise says the healers can patch the rest of the wounded up now those claw-bits are out of everyone, so no emergency oh-shit calls to bring Fey out.”
Sara nodded and leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Whoops, looks like I made a clean spot. Guess I'll have to do the whole thing.”
Jericho smiled wanly and turned his head, not quite looking at her. “Tempting, but I really need a shower right now.” She noticed for the first time, the stressed fatigue in his features, and the shaking hands. “And some sleep.”
“It's called a joke, we have them on Saturn.”
“With you it's hard to tell. Maybe I'll catch on quicker in the morning after I've drank all of Elois' coffee.” He stood, shifting his rifle in his hands like he was afraid to let it down. “I bet it's that Folgers crap too. So hard to find good Java these days.”
“Mental note: never joke with people after a fight. Gotcha.”
“Hey, I'm counting my blessings. No fatalities, I'm in one piece and I didn't have to use Burnout in a Can to keep the goddamned poison from doing to me what it did to those State troopers.”
Sara nodded and tried to wipe the blue dust off her clothing, mostly successfully. “Burnout in a Can? Something fun from the Devisor shop?”
Jericho nodded. “It's a piece of nasty I concocted after I used Jobe's lab to have a look-see at the venom shit I collected. That bastard didn't believe me when I said it was dangerous as fuck all. Then he took one look at it and set the lab's burn protocols himself. We destroyed the shit after. All of it. Even Jobe didn't want to touch the stuff.”
Sara nodded. “Smart of him, although I can't say bringing that stuff to Whateley was a bright idea.”
“Had to test a theory. Heat slows it down. Turns out Burnout will kill the shit in a mutant. So I came up with this.” Jericho removed an epi-pen from the harness on his left arm full of amber fluid. “This is pure devisor, so I'll only trust it with me. If I get caught by those assholes and live, it'll give me about an hour to get help before it causes full burnout and kills the toxins. Unfortunately it also leaves me with the dilemma of needing to get medical attention, so I'm not eager to test it.”
“I can see why.” She handed it back and watched him replace the pen into the harness. “Why would you put yourself through that?”
“Better dead than turning out like those things.” Jericho spat on the ground. “Damned Voodoo-Wolves. Remind me to borrow some of Tinkertrain's plasma grenades in case I meet this 'bastard' motherfucker you all are talking about.”
Sara bit back a smartass comment, recognizing Jericho wasn't up for it, which for him was extremely odd.
He continued onward, actually saying something that got Sara's attention. “This Bastard's got to be a mutant, or had to start as one. This corrupted were shit's supposed to be impossible, right? That means we're probably looking at a mutant whose physiology allowed the jump, then got infected.”
Sara nodded. “That might be. Makes sense, after all, Ebola didn't go airborne until after a mutant got exposed and died. Of course it's also possible the bastard has a mutant that allowed the jump in his employ.”
Jericho nodded, took a few steps and stumbled. Sara was up and kept him from falling as battle-fatigue took its toll on the boy. “Looks like that's my cue. All right. I'm going to grab some shut-eye as well. I'll talk to you tomorrow before we kick it back to Twain. We don’t know when Razor's final is.”
“That's ok. Where'd the big goofball end up? I'll go check on him.”
“He's passed out in Ben's kitchen. He almost always has to gorge after he flips out.”
“Will he be ok like that? Should I move him into a bed or something?” Sara gave a worried look.
Jericho shook his head. “He's done this before. He passes out on the floor in the dorm fairly regularly, or in the common room. No one with any sense screws with him.”
“Ok, I'll leave him be. Goodnight, Jericho, sweet dreams.”
“Joe.”
“Joe?”
“Name's Joseph Turner. You can call me Joe.”
“Ok Joe, sleep well.”
“You too Sara.”
Sara was left, watching Joe stumble towards Ben's cabin. The devisor kid's fatigue, and loss of humor capacity after the battle only reminded her of the differences between her and the people she called friends.
Tuesday, December 12th, 2006
Caitlin walked softly across the lawn, stalking her prey before sunrise. The two NSA recruiters were oblivious to the slow-moving form creeping up behind them. She knew these two well over the past three years. Sometimes she got them, sometimes they slipped past her. Unfortunately they were being lazy. They must have heard that Mahren, the bastard that he was, was no longer at Whateley to terrorize them. This was true; however Erik’s legacy lived on in her new form, grinning like a maniac as she slipped behind Hawthorne to intercept them. From their idle chatter they were here to talk to Compiler if they could isolate her, something about the nanites she’d used to make herself into an Exemplar. The thought was highly amusing, as Babs’ little devises almost invariably had something go horribly wrong, hence her incarceration at Hawthorne Correctional.
Caitlin heard a snap behind her and froze. She must’ve missed their backup, so she slowly creeped sideways at an angle away from her targets, watching behind her, and wincing as tiny flashes flickered along her body. Each flicker of energy had the potential to give her position to the enemy, so she had to be very careful. The thought of turning these two losers over to Delarose wasn’t that satisfying, and she technically wasn’t on-duty with the Security Auxiliaries, yet. Sucked to be them, it was humiliation time.
She almost lost her cool when she turned back to look at the two and found a petite blonde girl in a security uniform and a ghilly suit less than four inches away, staring her in the eyes. The young woman’s face held an amused expression and she slowly shook her head at Caitlin, waving a finger back and forth, slowly. Caitlin glared at Whateley’s prettiest security officer and nodded. Delarose never let her have any fun when he could help it.
Sam slowly nodded her head and pointed at her eyes with two fingers, then pointed to a small tree with good brush cover about twenty yards from the two. Caitlin followed and nodded. It was the spot she’d intended to ambush the two recruiters originally. Sam nodded and handed Caitlin a pair of cuffs and pumped her fist once, then slid into the bushes away from the metal-haired girl.
Caitlin just chuckled silently and slid over, continuing her creep to her chosen spot. Five minutes later she realized that she couldn’t see Sam anywhere. She focused on the currents and noted the two men barely caused a ripple in the flows. Hawthorne, just beyond appeared to be a hurricane of energy, whipping and sliding in mad patterns and vortices. The feel of the currents sliding across her skin increased as she concentrated, then froze, perfectly still. She couldn’t see Sam visually, or in the currents. That meant Sam was either Miss Slick Shit, or she was shielded. All mutants interacted with the flows, just as baseline humans did, though the flavor of that interaction was distinct and unique to the mutant in question. She just hadn’t figured out how to differentiate between them by their signatures that way, or how to spot them from the normal background static without looking directly at them.
Sam revealed her position by pointing her rifle-mounted flashlight at the two men who for a moment sat stunned like a pair of deer in an oncoming headlight. “Whateley Security! Place your hands on your heads and get on your knees!”
Caitlin watched the two men raise their hands slowly. She saw the one slightly further from Sam slide something out of his sleeve and click a button. It took her all of two seconds to get behind him and snatch the object, shoving him roughly into the dirt as his partner hit the ground with his hands on his head. She had the handcuffs on the offender’s wrists as the flash-strobe went off, making her dizzy and filling her vision with spots. The sudden panic of shock caused her aura to erupt, sending streaks of yellowish lightning into the plants nearby, and the two men.
The cooperative one screamed as the bush he was next to uprooted itself and proceeded to wrap him in tentacle-like branches with leaves acting like little suction-cups. The man with the strobe-pen started giggling uncontrollably as Sam came in close, cuffing the other and dragging the two away from the suddenly lively underbrush. Caitlin found her leg wrapped in a tree root that was snaking its way up past her knee when her vision and confusion cleared enough that she could see again. Sam didn’t even seem to have been affected by any of it.
Sam looked mildly amused as she read the men their Miranda rights and Caitlin stood up. The root kept crawling up her leg until she kicked, snapping it off from the tree. A few moments later the brush settled down, somewhat, then went quiescent as she blinked away the last of the stars in her vision. The one agent was still giggling madly, but slowing down somewhat.
“Having fun?” Sam gave her a somewhat stern, and disappointed look.
Caitlin shook her head a bit. “Well I was until somebody interrupted my progress practicing my creep.”
“Ahhh, so that’s what you call it? I’d call it akin to a child trying to sneak up on a dog while sneezing.”
“Hey, if I don’t practice, I’ll never learn now will I? Want me to check these two for more fun goodies?”
“Already have. Lucky for them, that strobe thing’s all they got.”
Caitlin sighed. So much for my early-morning mayhem. “So we take these idiots to Delarose?”
“Who do you think you’re talking to young lady?” One of the agents, whom now that Caitlin was paying attention, was Blonde with dark roots as opposed to his normal coloration.
“Shut up, Masterson, if I want your opinion I’ll give it to you.”
Sam raised an eye. “Masterson, huh? You know these two?”
Caitlin about answered, but then shook her head. “Nah, I memorized the pictures of the recruiters with frequent offender miles here. The brown-haired guy here’s new though. We haven’t got his photo yet.”
Sam nodded sagely. “Well it’s a good thing we found you boys. Of late we’ve had a student decide to play a little rough. She seems to think zip-tying recruiters to the flagpole after running their skivvies up as the flag is fun stuff.”
Caitlin inwardly groaned. She was not looking forward to another of Delarose’s talks about assaulting federal officials, even if they were trespassing and breaking the accords.
“Well, now that you have them in custody, officer Everhart was it? I’ll just mosey on back to my cottage until breakfast.”
Sam shook her head. “You wish. You come with me too. Since you’re up at this ungodly hour we may as well put you to work. Might keep you out of trouble.”
Caitlin got a sour look, but nodded in agreement. “So how’d you manage to sneak up on me like that?”
“Please. I’m the master of the creep. Maybe someday I’ll teach you how to do it right.”
“Wonderful, I’m being stalked by Delarose’s personal ninja. Lead the way, officer. I’d volunteer to drag one, but I don’t want to risk injuring someone who’s already in custody.”
Sam smiled. “Love to. All right you two up and move. If you give me any trouble I’ll let my girl here duct-tape your heads inside a toilet bowl and leave you there.”
Caitlin grinned evilly. “Oh no, by all means, please. Make trouble.”
“I hate this school.” Masterson’s voice was barely audible.
Sam smiled sweetly. “It’s not so fond of you, either.”
Jericho walked around the homes of Weretown, sipping from a large mug of coffee he’d scrounged up. He hadn’t gotten much sleep, but he’d gotten enough to get by through the day. Most of the residents of the area were out cleaning up the mess from the night before or trying to pretend all was well enough to go to work. Eloise was out and about with Ben, checking to make sure that everyone was still accounted for. The voodoo-wolves had been trying to drag off several of the community residents. They hadn’t been there to kill, but to capture.
He wandered for a bit when he spotted Sara sitting on the roof of Elois’ cabin. God only knew why she and Ben had separate homes, given that both of them loved each other dearly. Either it was just the nature of the beast, or something was holding them back. Who knows? Perhaps he was reading too much into it and they were family.
Four minutes after that bit of reflection, one emptied mug and a lot of grunting and cursing later, he pulled himself up and sat down next to the demon-girl. He let his feet hang off the roof rather like hers were and pretended to watch the sun rise.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Jericho didn’t really know how to talk to the girl, as they’d only spoken briefly, and in cursory fashion. Most of the others were extremely antsy around her. Jericho was cautious, but he wasn’t going to live in fear of what she might do to him. Were he of that mind he’d never have made friends with Jack, who was still sleeping off his rage and meal in Ben’s kitchen.
Sara turned and gave him a halfhearted smile. “They’re not worth a penny. Sleep well?”
“Yeah, once the shaking stopped, but yeah I did.”
“I’m sorry if last night I was a little...” Sara paused, trying to think of the proper words. She wasn’t accustomed to being flustered or unable to find the right words.
Jericho simply turned towards her and raised an eyebrow.
“You know, I can’t think of the word in English? Unfazed seems a bit cold.”
“Analytical, perhaps?”
“Maybe inappropriately flippant.” Sara looked a mite chagrined as she said it.
“You? Flippant? NAAAAAAAW!” Jericho smirked as she realized that even when he was dog-tired and just waking up, the boy sitting next to her couldn’t pass up the opportunity to be an ass. “However, I do believe the word you’re looking for is blasé.”
“Yes, that’s it. Blasé.” She shrugged. “It’s the little things that hit you, you know? Not being... Human.”
“I wouldn’t know, I just turned into a tech-geek. We all have our ways of coping. You blow it off; I scream profanity and make sarcastic remarks. Our ways work for us. At least you’re not so much of a worry-wart.”
Sara shook her head. “That’s the point; it’s not that I’m blowing it off. I just don’t have that... reaction. I don’t get tired. I don’t get the shakes being covered in ash. And I don’t notice the lack until I turn around and talk to someone going through it.”
Jericho stopped for a moment, then began speaking cautiously. “I think I understand. Gimmie a minute to gather my thoughts.”
“Gather away, I’ve had all night.”
Jericho began speaking slowly, then slowly picked up the pace. “All right, so it’s not a normal reaction. It’s a bit unnerving, I’ll admit, but I have seen similar things. Razor’s flip-out urges about top the list for the things that bug me since I know he can’t shut it off. Then you’ve got Diamondback, who reacts to things in a manner akin to a snake as often as not, which is a profound change from before she became what she is. She doesn’t notice it, but the cues are all there even if it’s subtle.”
He continued, albeit somewhat unsurely, like the pieces of the puzzle were falling into place bit by bit. “And then Caitlin, whom I’ve just gotten to know, moves, acts and talks like she’s ready for a fight, or expecting to get jumped. All the time, even on those rare occasions that she’s totally relaxed, it’s like she’s primed to kill something. I don’t think most people even notice these things except Razor’s temper, and I’m not sure it is a temper problem. I don’t know if those comparisons make any sense to you.”
Sara actually gave him a smile. “So you’re saying we’ve all got our quirks?”
“Yeah. We all do. It may not always be the human reaction, but tell me, how many people do you actually know who show all of the standard-issue ‘human’ reactions to things?”
“None, but don’t worry, I’m not down about it. How long has Caitlin been part of your group? I don’t think we’ve met yet.”
“Oh, ‘bout two weeks now, give or take. She’s kind of hard to miss, tall, exemplar, ancestry impossible to trace by looking at her, metal hair and these freaky-ass, runed metal eyes. She’s a bit cagey around the magicky types I’ve noticed. And reality starts coming uncorked when she touches shit. That flashy aura’s a bit fucked up.”
Sara looked suddenly thoughtful. “Two weeks... and Razor’s been on edge for one?”
“About that, but it’s not constant either, it comes and goes.”
“Do you all dorm nearby?”
Jericho shook his head. “No. Me’n Razor are both in Twain, Diamond’s in Whitman, and Cait just moved into Hawthorne yesterday. They had her bunking out in the utility sheds because of that aura. It’s apparently a nightmare to contain. She has to wear wards sewn into her clothing to keep from going nuclear.”
Sara nodded. “I just can’t help thinking that the Outcasts are connected to this in a way you know nothing about. Razor’s reaction hints at a spiritual connection to these things somehow. As if he’s a soldier in a war he can’t remember.”
“Yeah, it’s weird. Plus he rips through them like he’s been doing it his whole life. And then there’s the grove. That place doesn’t like me. Don’t ask me how I know, but I do. It sounds crazy but it’s the feel I get. It’s like I’m distinctly unwelcome. Razor though... Just the opposite. He goes in and it’s like he’s walking through the front door after work.”
Jericho continued, slowly nodding to himself as though he was getting the thoughts straight. “He just... Relaxes.”
Sara turned directly towards him. “Did you say The Grove?”
Jericho looked over and nodded. “Yeah, big, spooky wooded area, frequent cause for injury among idiots. It’s how we get here on foot so fast.”
“So that’s how Fey got you involved.”
“No, Razor got me involved. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him.”
“Exactly.”
“I thought Nikki filled you in on how all that occurred.”
“Nikki was a bit overly focused on the Voodoo-wolves. She missed a few details that she probably figured were obvious, but then she’s not always in the human mindset herself.”
Jericho quirked an eyebrow while nodding about Nikki’s tendency towards bizarre thought patterns, puzzling through the steps. “How he got involved, he says he was running around in there, like he does on occasion, and he caught a hint of these fuckers creeping around there. Turns out they were setting up an ambush for the elfy one.” He paused and considered. “These Voodoo-Wolves make me ill when I think of what they’re about, but Razor... He does not like them. On a level I can’t even understand. Suggest hunting them and he’s chomping at the bit to go.”
Jericho looked directly at Sara, for once. “Come to think of it, he had to fight the urge to assault, kill and eat you in music class too, but he got over it. That was back in what, late September, early October?”
“You think it was coincidence that Razor just happened to be walking out at night when Fey was attacked?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. She’d just gone out to talk to the weres. And Razor does the whole disappear into the woods thing about once or twice a month.”
“Add up what we know. One, Razor can sense these things and knows how to kill them. Two, the Grove, a place of magic not known for it’s kindness to strangers, welcomes him with open arms. Three, he suddenly comes upon the Queen of the West right when she needs a knight to protect her. I’d say it’s pretty conclusive, Razor’s one of the fae.” Sara semi-smirked at her own reasoning.
Jericho shook his head. “Doesn’t wash. I’ve done research into the fae since I got dragged into this clusterfuck. No allergy to iron, no weird mystic prohibitions, and he doesn’t kowtow to Fey, which he should if he’s one of them since she’s theoretically some kind of noble or something. The weres, on the other hand, act as though she was their natural-born leader, ordained by God and all that.”
“The exact nature of the Fae is greatly clouded by history. Once, they Elder Races and their Gods were as diverse and life on this planet is now. Historians just lump them all together and call them ‘Fae’. If Razor’s not of the Fae but welcome, he’s certainly some sort of ally. That much, I’m pretty sure of.”
“Eh. Not so sure there. Razor... Fey, and these weres, scream ‘magic’ at me. Razor doesn’t. If any word were to apply to him it’d be Primal. But I’ll keep looking. You could be right.” Jericho didn’t look happy with the line of thought, but he was considering it carefully.
“Be careful what you read. Books about that era in Earth’s history are scarce and dangerous.”
“I haven’t exactly been poking at the restricted section of the library just yet. But I did look at all the old legends, and none of them have anything that matches my boy there, not even by a close margin. The dragon legends are closer, but still. Nothing seems to add up.”
“Except for the dinosaurs,” Sara said with a wry smile.
Jericho nodded. “Yeah. Who knows? Razor just might have picked up a genetic throwback set of genes for all I know. Maybe the dinosaurs hunted shit like what we’re fighting today. It’d make a kind of sense, considering the buggers don’t exactly leave much evidence of their passing once they start rotting”“
“Or maybe someone created the dinosaurs for that purpose.”
“Yeah, now we’re delving into ‘Is there a God?’ territory.”
“I know of at least one, myself.”
Jericho shrugged, mildly. “The Jury’s still out on that one in my book. I’m not sure I accept any of the classical depictions, descriptions or whatever about God.”
“I guess that depends on your definition of a God or one God.”
“I’ll stick to agnosticism. It’s a bit cleaner here. More clutter, but cleaner.”
Sara tilted her head. “Then I can only suggest that you don’t worry too much about Razor’s origin. The things you might discover in the process don’t fit well into the agnostic’s world view.”
“Agnosticism is another word for ‘haven’t made up my mind yet.”
Sara looked at him seriously. “I know, but like it or not it’s still a philosophy of life just as much as Christianity. An agnostic needs convincing over something that can never be quantified. If I were to show you a miracle, would you recognize it for what it was and admit you’re wrong? If I made the sky rain blood, would you believe it to be the work of a Goddess or the power of a mutant?”
Jericho shrugged again. “Maybe The origins of things don’t matter so much to me as the here and now. I don’t know. And honestly? I couldn’t tell you for sure what I’d think till it happens. Maybe God is a concept that can only be fully understood by one who worships, or is being worshipped.”
Sara smiled, “Of course. I’m sorry if I sounded rude, I was only speaking hypothetically.”
“Eh, it happens. Gotta understand, I’m used to it. I had a pontificating fuck of a preacher I had to listen to every Sunday back home. He was just less friendly about it than you are, hence why he’s a fucker.”
“Don’t get me started on religion; we’ll be here all day.”
“Yeah, believe me, It’s not a topic around me or Diamond either. Once we get going...” Jericho’s voice trailed off as he watched a certain spined, black-mottled, Mini-Saurus Rex come stalking around sniffing the air, and generally looking reassuringly normal. “Ahh, shit. Razor’s up. We need to get back to Whateley before the arena opens for business. We still don’t know when Razor’s up on the block. I got my notice for Friday, but not what time.”
Sara hopped to her feet. “I’m on Friday too.”
Jericho chuckled to himself. “Well, when the time comes I wish you luck.”
“Ditto.”
Jericho stood up and stopped just before he reached the safe spot to climb down. “You know, Sara. Some days I think that each of us worships our creator ultimately by being whom, and what we are, living life as we are meant to with no fear, and no regrets.”
Sara looked thoughtful. “So how do you know who or what you’re meant to be?”
Jericho shrugged. “That’s the bitch about free will. You have to make your choices and live with the consequences. Maybe that’s the whole point of the exercise, becoming what, and who you choose to be, a reflection of the whole.” He chuckled. “Maybe I’m not as Agnostic as I thought.”
Sara smiled. “Well, it gives me something to think about.”
“See you around campus, Sara.”
Jericho slid down off the roof and started collecting his gear while Razorback nattered at him, wordlessly in that oddly birdlike voice of his, hissing, barking and chirping at the blind boy until he was situated. Then the pair turned and began making a beeline towards the Grove again. She tracked them and noted that when they reached the edge of the Grove, Razor walked right in, while Jericho paused, nervously, like he was praying for a sign that he wouldn’t have to go that way. After a moment, he followed his friend.
Sara smirked to herself. “Hell, Joe, you’ve given me a lot to think about. Thanks.”
Caitlin exited Kane Hall after helping Sam book the two recruiter fools, and completing her share of the paperwork. Having been taken by the strobe-flasher was embarrassing, to say the least. Having gotten snuck up on by the petite blonde walking from Kane Hall with her was just... aggravating. Even on her worst day she should never have been able to get that close. Hell, Deadeye never could and he was a chameleon!
“Problem, Miss Bardue?” Sam semi-smirked at her as they began a patrol route that would keep both of them occupied until the Crystal Hall opened for breakfast. Delarose had decided that perhaps Caitlin’s maniacal energies could be put to better use than terrorizing the recruiters, so she got to follow Sam and learn the basics of Security patrols. Unfortunately, this was yet another thing Caitlin was grossly familiar with.
“Just irritated. That asshole never should have gotten me with the strobe, and no offense, but you should not have been able to get that close to me without me spotting you.” Her voice carried quite a bit more rancor than she’d intended.
“Don’t sweat it too much. I’ve been doing this since before you were out of grade school.”
“My ass, you can’t be older than eighteen.”
Sam smirked as they passed the route back up to Range Four. “Appearances can be deceiving, can’t they, Corporal?”
Caitlin stopped dead in her tracks and just stared at Sam.
Sam stopped as well and looked at Caitlin evenly. “Look, you’re not the only one who’s had something like this happen to you. Granted, it’s rare, and almost invariably painful, but unfortunately you need to recognize a few things you’ve been blind to and screwing up.”
“Who are you? How do you know me? And much do you know about me?”
“I know enough that I can’t talk about most of it in an unsecured area without Delarose being legally obligated to arrest me and turn me over to N.I.S.”
Caitlin glowered, more at the situation than at Sam. “Fine. Let’s get to the bunker, so you can check your codes. The cage is bug-proof, for the most part.”
Sam nodded. “I do have to ask you about the cage security system. I’ve shouldn’t have been locked out like that.”
“Powers over electronic machinery?”
“Yes.”
“Fair enough. The whole system’s pure Devisor, and based off electrophysics and design parameters that don’t really mesh well with reality. We kept it because I was actually able to make the thing operate without malfunctioning most of the time. To this day I still can’t understand the logic behind how it operates, but it’s something about a trinary system, with a fuzzy logic circuit. It’s actually about as intelligent as a newborn kitten, so it follows its instincts.”
Sam pondered as Hive began extrapolating the nightmare that that setup might envision. “So it’s an AI?”
“Yes and no. It’s more of a reactive computer. It is weird, and I’ve had to disassemble the whole goddamned thing and rebuild it three times now. I’d normally get it replaced, but thus far the damned thing has locked out every single unauthorized break-in attempt. It’s a system that’s a pain in the ass, but it works.”
The conversation continued as Caitlin allowed Sam to open the locks on the bunker and back cage, testing her newfound access.
“Good Lord, this system’s a giant cluster.” Sam was somewhat distracted while Hive tried to run a full analysis and continually came to the conclusion that the whole setup should not, under any circumstances, work.
Caitlin nodded. “It’s like a Devisor fusion reactor. It works, but not on any principle recognized by science, or even sanity. Hence why you can’t just replicate it and use it like you could if, say, a gadgeteer was doing the work. Hell, even the gadgeteers can’t make heads or tails of most devisor crap.”
Sam nodded and re-sealed the cage behind them manually. “This school is going to take some getting used to. Every time I think I have a handle on it, something new crops up to throw my perceptions.”
“That’s what happens. Every time you think you’ve seen it all, someone hits you with something born on the far side of Flemdar. This school’s not for those with severe problems coping with changes.”
“As you have found out.”
Caitlin got a dark look. “Yeah, so I’m assuming Delarose clued you in?”
“Sort of. Most of the clues, you gave me. You really suck at hiding who you are to anyone with the right frame of reference.”
“Wonderful. So you know me, you know my buddies, which means you’re probably clued into some of the knee-deep shit we were usually slogging through in the Corps.”
Sam nodded. “Hence why I say you suck at hiding things.”
“Wonderful. Then there’s you. You don’t look familiar, you don’t act like any of the mixed bag of hood-rats and god’s honest girlfriends who hung out around the M-SOC barracks, but you do know entirely too much. How?”
Sam nodded and leaned against the energy weapon racks and started talking. “Well, like you, I’m a lot older than I look. Unlike you I never worked for Colonel MacPhearson.”
“God, you had to mention that fucking bitch.”
“I’d appreciate it if you’d at least show some respect for rank.”
“Fuck no.” Caitlin got a bit heated. “That bitch did everything she could to make our lives hell. Bad recruits, delays on processing leave blocks, denials of same. She made sure that each of us was processed out of the Corps with a re-enlistment code that ensured we would never wear any uniform in the states again, and convinced the med-board to refuse all seven of us anything resembling medical disability pay, even though Prison Bitch started developing a degenerative nerve problem from an energy blast he survived, and Me, Worm, Heckel and Jeckel all left with some severe fucking mental problems, all of which require continuous medication. Fuck her. Fuck her rank. The only respect I’ll give her is for the fact that she’s damned good in a fight. That’s it.”
Sam wasn’t expecting that. Her opinions aside, she was staring at one of the few people who could even match a quarter of her decorations. She knew, as Hive drew up Erik Mahren’s old military record, that he was the recipient of two Navy Crosses, three Silver stars, four Bronze Stars, and a host of other awards, including two purple hearts. All of them classified, except for the fact that she’d been the one to recommend the medals for the team on at least three occasions, even if they were a pack of unruly psychos who’s presence in an operating theater virtually guaranteed a severe SNAFU for any other operations in the area.
Caitlin closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you. It’s not your fault. I just don’t like talking about anything I did after I left Gunny Bardue’s company.”
“Feel better?”
“No. I still have nightmares and flashbacks from that time period, and the medication stopped working on me about a week ago, something about a severe change in physiological makeup. Basically the docs saying they don’t know what the fuck is up. Hell, I can’t even use beer to drown the nightmares out anymore. Not for lack of trying.”
Sam nodded. “Why did MacPhearson hate you so much?”
“Because we were the only seven ‘baseline’ riflemen who could hang with the mutants there, partially. Partially because she convinced herself, and good portions of her command that we were a buncha Humans First! militants in uniform.” Caitlin looked up. “Hell, getting the job here was a fight and a half. MacPhearson had some choice words with Carson about me after she found out I was under consideration for a job. Basically took all my bad traits and magnified them, trying to convince Carson that I’d be a danger and a liability to the students and staff.”
“You told Carson your side didn’t you?”
“Had to. By the time I’d gotten to that point, it was really a choice between shooting myself because, unlike my buddies, I couldn’t hold down any kind of job that would pay enough to keep me fed, housed and medicated, or taking the Syndicate up on an employment offer to train Sabretooths. I think I’d rather starve to death than do the latter. Dropping the truth to Carson, and Gunny Bardue backing me up all the way were the only reasons I got hired, and even then she watched me like a hawk for two years.”
Sam frowned. On one hand, she could understand why Caitlin had leaked the classified information on what she’d done to Carson, but she’d violated a host of laws and regulations in doing so.
Caitlin recognized the look on Sam’s face. “Yeah, I violated security. Fortunately for you, there’s nothing you have to do about it. Erik Mahren’s dead, or as good as. He’s been officially dumped into the deepest hole in ARC forever, and my prospects aren’t very good either. Odds are I’m fucked within the next two or three years. My life-expectancy isn’t what one would call high right now.”
“I don’t like it.”
“Neither do I. But I can’t really say I had much choice at that point. I was on the verge of robbing a bank, letting it go bad, and getting caught so I could have three hots and a cot for the rest of my life.”
Sam winced. She’d heard of things like that, but never had to face someone who’d been forced into that point. “And you managed to hold onto the job here?”
“Yeah, turns out I was good at it. I had my rocky bits at first, as apparently it’s not kosher to shoot flyers that hover for too long with rock salt to illustrate tactical stupidity.”
“Ok that sounds more like the you I knew.”
“Speaking of which, spill. How the hell do you know me? I’m pretty sure I’d recognize a hot blonde in a security uniform.”
Sam smirked. “I’m Rear Admiral Samantha Everhart, formerly of the U.S. Navy SEALs.”
Caitlin looked at her skeptically. “Sorry, but the only SEAL I ever heard with that name was a crusty old fart of a captain who...” Her eyes widened as comprehension dawned.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
“Hah. I wish. This body is a replica of my daughter’s before she died in a car wreck.”
“Oh, fuck, I’m sorry.”
”Listen, Cait, I can see it in you. I saw it in the service when we worked together and it’s still there. You’re carrying a chip around on your shoulder the size of Rhode Island and you provoke people to knock it off.”
“Yeah, and?”
“You’re not that cocky son of a bitch anymore. You’re a 14 year old girl. It’s breaking up your camo.”
Caitlin looked exasperated. “Sixteen, and I don’t know how to act like a sixteen-year-old-girl, hell I don’t even know how to act like a sixteen-year-old guy!”
“A little louder please, I don’t think Fubar heard you in the Hawthorne.” Sam sighed. “Okay, left field time. Have you checked out your body privately?”
Caitlin raised an eyebrow. “Kinda private, don’t you think?”
“Well, after quite a few years of marriage I know that women are emotional creatures and it is a form of release. Who knows it might help.”
Caitlin shook her head in the negative. “No. I haven’t been able to bring myself to anything resembling that in about a month and a half.”
“You might want to. It is something to be experienced.”
“Can’t.”
“Why?”
“It’s too soon ok? I don’t think I’m ready for that.”
Sam looked at her skeptically. “You’ve been female for how long now?”
“Two weeks, give or take. Maybe three. I haven’t been paying much attention to that.”
Sam shook her head. “Well, maybe it was three weeks before it happened to me... Then there was that girl... Not that my history matters, you need to find a vent other than picking on recruiters. You keep making it hard on them they may start showing up armed with more than a flash-bang, and if they do, it will put the neutrality of the school in jeopardy.”
“Been doing that for years, just for a way to unwind, and being female’s the least of my problems. If it were that simple I’d be fucking thrilled.”
“It took me changing into my daughter to wake up to my problems and that took a long time.”
“It’s too soon, ok... Wait. How long have you been working here?” Caitlin’s exasperated melted to thoughtful after a moment.
“Since the week of Thanksgiving.” Sam got curious for a moment, but continued, “even then I wasn’t officially on the clock.”
“That explains it. I was still cooped up in the sheds when you got here. You familiar with what happened on Halloween?”
Sam shook her head slightly. “Other than some deep stuff happened I’ve not looked too closely at the files, I’ve had other things on my plate.”
Cait sighed and started talking. “I was on duty that night with my Fiancée, Cat McQuiston. Me and her went off the clock and decided to be out here when the school got hit and we got the distress call.”
Hive helpfully brought up the Whateley personnel file on Cat McQuiston, and Sam read quickly. She simultaneously wanted to sympathize and slap the shit out of the moping girl as she read on. Sympathy because she knew what it was like to lose loved ones and have the pain still be raw. Slapping the shit out of the girl was pretty high on the list because Sam knew exactly who she was dealing with, even if not everyone on Whateley was aware of it. A split-second later, she went for the second option without waiting for the rest of the story.
Caitlin reeled and hit a gun rack as Sam’s backhand rocked her back. Sam just started yelling. “You think you’re the only one who’s lost? You lost one! I lost hundreds. Men, women, children! You are such a whiner.” Sam steeled herself for the windup, as if she was right, this might hurt. If she was wrong, Caitlin might just fold up and break. “Every serviceman under my command who went out and died under my orders was my responsiblity. Every soldier I trained to be a sniper who ended up dying. My responsibility! You have problems. Get a grip, You got it easy. If you ever had to send a man on a mission that you knew he’d not be coming back from and you couldn’t help it. Then I might believe it. Till then Tie a knot in and stop whining ‘my pussy hurts!”
She was right. Caitlin’s return right hook and left cross missed Sam by about a centimeter each time as the ex-SEAL got some distance from the suddenly angry “teenager.” Weirdest thing was the oddball runed eyes were glowing, not the whole things, but the runes were rapidly reddening, and filling in like they were containers for molten metal with an angry orange glow.
“Like Hell!” Caitlin could scream like a banshee, Sam noted idly, watching the reaction. “You think you’re the one who had the big fucking burden? Fifty-two Marines, most of them barely out of fucking High School broken and dead, bleeding out because we weren’t able to train him the right way! Men, women and children caught in grazing fire because we had to bag the target or fucking die! Don’t you dare fucking lecture me about losses! You commanded it, I got to fucking live it!”
“Yeah, yeah I read the reports Princess, boo-hoo. I was there for a few of those, remember?” Sam smiled inside slightly. So there was still a fire burning in there after all. It was time to stoke the flames. “Panama, one shot ricochet and I personally killed 150 inocent men, women and children. Because I missed. They had done nothing other than build their village too close to a drug dealer.”
Caitlin snapped back instantly, “Samin villiage. One shot, 134 kills when the target fucking exploded!” She wasn’t aware of the subtle shifts as the old memories she’d been blocking out of her mind had been slipping in, mingling with old memories, and making details fuzzy. She wouldn’t realize till much later that the Samin villiage died eight-hundred years prior.
Sam blinked at that. She’d never even heard of a Samin Villiage. Maybe, sounded somehow familiar. This wasn’t working, and she’d forgotten that Caitlin as Mahren had, in her own special way, ridden into and out of hell more times than most people ever would. Not nearly as many times as Sam had, but scars were scars. She needed a way through to the damned fool, not a going-nowhere screaming match.
She stalked forward, and hit Caitlin again. A scuffle broke out, and both wound up slamming each other into gun racks a few times while Caitlin screamed at her in a language Hive couldn’t even guess at the origin of. A few shocks, some hypothermia and one insane handgun turning into something resembling modern art from Caitlin’s aura later, and Sam held her immobilized against the cage door. As strong and brutal as she could be, Caitlin still kind of sucked in hand-to-hand compared to the real pros.
“Listen!” Sam hissed in her ear. “There was one mission I got roped into I didn’t act as a sniper. I entered a villa and snapped a little girls neck in her own bedroom. I found that I liked the killing! If I hadn’t had the Navy and my family to remind me of the shame of what I had just done, I’d have kept going. If you keep going like this, you’re going to prove her right. You’re going to prove MacPhearson right! You’re going to become the creature MacPhearson says you, and your buddies are because you can’t get yourself under control! You can’t even hold it together enough to speak English!”
Caitlin stopped moving. She barely breathed as the words sank in. She stopped resisting and let Sam slip away, slumped against the wall she had been pinned against.
Sam let the final nail slam home. “What would Cat think?”
Caitlin started shivering, trying to get her breathing under control as her thoughts coalesced. Cat dying, her blacking out on Halloween and waking up in an infirmary room, bandaged up and shaking off the sedatives. She could just picture Cat’s disapproving stare in her mind’s eye, almost as if she was still there.
Sam looked at the silent girl against the wall. “Take the day, off from security. I’ll sign you out.” She turned and walked out of the room, tracking her path back to Kane hall, leaving Caitlin alone with her thoughts, yet again.
Sam knocked on Delarose’s door and waited when she arrived. After a few seconds she heard the muffled “Enter.” and went inside, shutting the door behind her. Delarose looked up at her face, which had a large shiner developing and healing rapidly. “I take it you and Caitlin are done on patrol?”
“Yeah. I’ll be signing her out. I hope to Christ I got through to her, because she’s about on the verge.”
“Wonderful. So I take it she’ll be sporting matching bruises then?”
Sam shook her head. “No, she’ll have a few more than that. But we might want to keep an eye on her. I’m not sure if the wake-up call I threw into her face will take or if she’ll snap.”
Delarose leaned back in his chair. “What’s your gut tell you?”
“My gut tells me she’s going to get mad.”
Hank was the first one up of the Kimbas, and Toni found him checking the schedule again for his name in the Combat Finals on the common-room board. Unlike most of the other residents of Poe, he shared one thing in common with Fey, Chou, Tennyo in that none of them seemed to be scheduled for Combat Finals. Chaka’s had seemed like a last-minute thing, and that little run had been insane!
“Morning Hank!” Unlike her elfin roommate, Chaka was a morning person. Hell, she was also an afternoon and evening person. It seemed that very little could break through her cheerful and happy-go-lucky attitude.
“Morning Toni.” Hank yawned. “I still can’t believe you actually used an atomic wedgie as a martial-arts maneuver.”
“Hey! Nephandus had it coming!”
“Yeah, but that high-pitched whine he let out when you did it was kind of disturbing.”
Toni grinned. ”Music to my ears.”
Hank chuckled. “Looks like they still forgot me, Fey, Chou and Tennyo.”
“I doubt that. You four are impossible to forget, no matter how hard I try!”
“Gee, thanks.”
“No problem, Lancer my good buddy. After all, if I didn’t pick on ya, who would?”
Hank smirked. “Well the Grunts are making a good go of it.”
“What, those military wannabes punks giving you shit?”
Hank looked thoughtful. “Actually, they wanted to recruit me for their sim team.”
Chaka raised an eyebrow. ““Ohhh, no. There will be none of that! You’re ours and those loony gun-monkeys ain’t getting you before we even have a chance to run the sims ourselves!”
“What are you two going on about?” Tennyo, by contrast to Chaka, was not a morning person. She was followed closely by the ever-maniacal Jade, who was still in the middle of a yawn.
“Those Gomer-wannabe Grunts are trying to poach our boy here!”
“What?” Tennyo got a dark look. “After Breaker came in here like that last night and he wants to run off with Hank? Oh hell no.”
An angry argument started and Fey walked into the room, bleary-eyed and tired to the suddenly inflammatory conversation. Ayla and Chou were right behind her. “Hey, what’s going on? Who is trying to brainwash Hank?”
“Those ridunkulous Grunt punks are trying to hijack Hank!” Chaka was half-amused, half outraged as she spoke.
The conversation started again, and Hank finally had to stop it. “Hey, hey hey!” The other Kimbas looked at him as he held his hands up for calm. “Chill. I dunno if I’m going to take ‘em up on it, but they don’t expect me to quit the Kimbas. Hell, Breaker said I’d be insane if I did.”
“Yeah, sure, after all I’d want an intelligence source on up-and-coming competition, too.” Alya had a knack for coming up with Worst-Case scenarios.
“Would you calm down?” Hank shook his head. “Look. They don’t want me to leave the Kimbas, hell Mule, Breaker and Deadeye are wondering if any of you are ‘available’ as they put it. I told them no.” He held up a hand to forestall the inevitable protests. “And for the record, last night Breaker indicated that if I did give info between teams, it’d be a buddy fucker maneuver, and the other five subtly indicated that it’d be best not to share info between teams about Sim tactics.”
“Subtly? Subtly?” Chou actually laughed. “I’ve seen the Grunts’ idea of subtle! These guys think throwing a rock at your head is a subtle indicator that they don’t like you. And the stories people tell about the pranks in Melville? Yeah. Damn.”
Hank chuckled and nodded. “Ok, so yeah, they’re about as subtle as a runaway Mack truck. Thing is, my Dad actually sent a letter requesting they grab me when I got here. Breaker and Deadeye being who they are, decided keeping an eye out for how I was doing would probably be for the best. They like what they see.”
Nikki was thoughtful, “Mule and Bunker have been helpful as well. They’ve been doing some patrols around Weretown for the last week and have apparently ferreted out a few more of the Voodoo-wolves.” Nikki sighed and shook her head. “Remind me to hex Jericho. His irreverent manner of referring to things seems to rub off a little too easily.”
Jade smirked. “Nah, just take him in hand-to-hand. I beat him most of the time in Aikido.”
Everyone smirked. It was a well-known fact that Jericho was still somewhat sub-par in the fisticuffs department, and lacked any real equalizing powers native to his form. However, that being said, one had to watch out for the gadgets and insanity that he always seemed to have squirreled away for a rainy day.
Hank looked at Fey. “Yeah the Outcasts are entertaining, and Jericho and Razorback are good against those Voodoo-things. Good, but we need more backup if we’re gonna win this. I would strongly suggest you go speak to Breaker or Deadeye about what the deal is.”
“Why, so they can take control of the fight for the greater glory of their stupidity?” Chaka didn’t think much of the so-called simulator champs.
Hank turned to look at her. “No, they’re twitching at the trigger to start shooting the Voodoo-bastards. All right, here’s what happened last night...”
Creepy walked into the impromptu early-morning gaming session with the Astral Squad with a sour look on his face. A.D. and Louis were both there, Louis making one of his rare appearances as the Game Master at their accustomed spot in the Library. Weaver noted with some annoyance that the source of his irritation sat a few tables away, reading one of the mystic texts and taking notes as though all was well in the world.
“You look like you just chewed on something sour,” Heyoka remarked lightly as Creepy sat down.
“Yeah, well I’m getting tired of playing babysitter to our astral nightmare looking for a place to happen over there.” He jerked his head at Diamondback. “Come January she’s going to be loose, no way of getting around it. It’s already taking two or three sessions a day with the bindings to keep her locked and she’s still not fully stabilized.”
Fubar nodded mildly. He looked ridiculous in a flowing robe and a blue cone-hat with white stars on it. He took Gamer Nerd to the extreme when he joined in. “And add to this she’s actually been harassed by some of the more piddly spirits around Campus of late and we have some issues. She’s getting too strong to keep locked down.”
A.D. nodded. “Any advice on how to handle this one?”
Fubar nodded. “Bind her one last time right before she goes to Australia for Christmas break. After that it’s all in her hands. She might get enough of a reprieve to enjoy the holiday right before she comes uncorked.”
Heyoka looked over at the snake-girl musingly. “Yeah, hey on a similar note, has anyone had a good look at that girl she hangs out with of late, the one with the flashy lightshow aura?”
Valkyrie nodded. “Yeah, I have. It’s fucking unnerving.” She paused while all of the astral kids nodded. “Her spirit looks like some guy shackled and chained, screaming and cursing like a storm. I’ve poked, but DAMN. Whatever’s up with her, it’s tearing up the astral landscape around her something fierce. Most of the loose spirits run like hell out of her path and she shredded two rune-wards just by walking through them.”
A.D. sighed. “Yeah, I’ve noticed as well, and there hasn’t been a thing I’ve been able to do with her. She doesn’t perceive us, and it’s like a reverse-avatar. A possession or something’s going on. Me’n Artefact tried to break the spirit loose and eject it, but it’s got her tight.”
Fubar glowered. “Much as I dislike saying it, she’s off-limits. No interfering with her, no dirty looks, and no more attempting to exorcize her. If you succeed it’ll kill her outright. She’s a fighter, and she might actually beat it. Heyoka does your Guardian have anything to say about her?”
Jamie considered carefully, weighing the fact that talking about Thunderbird was something s/he didn’t like doing against the odd reactions T-Bird gave at the absolute astral havoc the girl created in her wake. “I can’t get much out of him. About the best way I can put it is whenever I ask, or try to do something it’s all guilty looks and shame on his part, like he had something to do with it. Other’n that he keeps saying that what she wants most is in her power and all she needs to do is look to her past and she’ll find it or something.”
Fubar grew thoughtful. “All right. Ladies and gents, I need to run my happy self over to talk to Circe and Chulkris. It looks like our game is going to have to wait. Have fun at Combat Finals.” He paused, and looked at his charges. “Valk, good work on your final by the way. I expect that you’ll do better next time, and sometimes losing can teach you a lot more than winning. Heyoka, nice work. Mr. Anderson may not have approved, but your victory speech brought a tear to me eye.”
Jamie grinned. “Hey, Next time I plan to release the robot zombies while I cackle maniacally.”
“You do that.”
Breakfast was a fast affair, and Diamondback looked on as her friends began trickling in. The Fury twins hadn’t shown up, something about intercepting Belphegor and giving him a present for Jobe. Whatever it was couldn’t be good. Jericho and Razorback showed up late, and she idly wondered if they’d been up running early. Jericho had that “just exercised” look to him as he ripped his plate apart with a gusto rivaling her and Razor.
“So. How did it go?” She talked as the boys ate.
“How’d what go?” Jericho was playing dumb, oh joy of joys.
“This big seekrit skwirrel bullshit you two have been about for the last week or so. And don’t feed me any shit this time because you both smell like blood. Again, I can taste it on you.”
“That’s just creepy when you do that, you know.” Jericho sighed as he recognized Diamond’s ‘You will answer me’ posture, punctuated by the crossed arms and glare. “Fine. We been helping the Weres that Whateley leases the property from. They’ve been under siege by some asstick they call ‘The Bastard’ that’s been pulling some straight demonic shit and turning them into real monsters, not just what all the paranoids say they are.”
“And you never asked for my help, why?”
Razorback signed, -Because of what happened to a pair of state troopers who got caught in the crossfire. They went bugnuts crazy just from looking at the damned things, and the poisons turned them into something straight from a Lovecraft novel. I’m protected somehow, probably has to do with me being a rager, and Jericho’s blind, so he’s not exactly susceptible.-
“So it’s just you two?”
Jericho sighed. “No. We’ve been working with Fey and a few of the Kimbas. A good bunch of them have protection from it, and Fey seems to know a lot more about the damned things. Add Mule, Bunker and Sara Waite and you have a party of mayhem looking for a place to happen. So far we’ve managed to keep the casualties down.”
“Mule and Bunker? Ok I’m aware that Mule’s probably the most heavily mystically and psychically shielded guy out there but Bunker’s able to fight them without going weirder? And yet you still didn’t ask me?”
Both boys looked at each other and then at Diamond before they both nodded.
“Ah, and you guys didn’t want my mind damaged, so sweet. Wake up for a minute and please remember that dear, sweet Bunker of the pageboy-blonde locks and foulness of mouth is a Package-Deal-Psychic.” She looked at the two boys’ confusion and cursed the teachers of Devisors and Speedsters for not getting them to understand other types of power. “You twits, she’s shielding! It’s one of the first things mages and Psychics, and empaths have to learn to protect themselves! It’s one of the few things outside of healing and illusions that I can do with anything resembling speed and skill. Hel-lo! You never wondered why me and Bunker never seem to go anywhere in our fights if one of us doesn’t pull a Johnny-one-shot in the opener?”
Jericho blinked, and blinked again, comprehension dawning as Razorback promptly started banging his head on the table, furious at himself because he knew better!
“Sandra, Jack, I’ll be back in one second. Bear with me.” Jericho hopped up and started wandering towards his targets, tapping away with his blind-man’s cane.
All conversation at the Team Kimba table ceased when a horror composed of dreadlocks, plaid golf pants complete with a kilt in Whateley school colors (also plaid) and a T-shirt reading “The man” with an arrow pointing straight up, and “the legend” with an arrow pointing straight down, and tie-dyed over the rest of it plopped unceremoniously next to Jade, who took one look at Jericho’s wardrobe and started giggling. Tennyo stopped, mid-chewing and smirked.
Chaka looked over and her face screwed up in horror. “Oh...My...God! Who dresses you in the morning, the fashion disaster fairy?”
“Nah, she had the day off. I had to make do on my own.”
“We have so got to get you to Boston and get you some real clothing.”
“What, and ruin my ensemble?” He turned to Jade. “I hear you have a line on Hello Kitty gear. Find me a good mix in my size and I will pay you well. No skirts.” He thought or a minute and the horrific ramifications ran through his mind at speeds calculated as ludicrous. “Ok, maybe one or two.”
Jade grinned evilly, and whispered loudly and conspiratorially. “Ok, but I can’t give out my sources. Everyone else is looking to kill my supplier.”
“Gotcha. I’ll make sure security’s occupied elsewhere so they can’t interfere with the shipment.”
The rest of the Kimbas sat staring with mute horror as the full implications to the nutty devisor’s wardrobe sank in fully.
Jericho looked up and grinned. “Ok, side business, completed. I’m actually here to speak to you, Miss Reilly.” He couldn’t see her so clearly as everyone else but he dearly wished for a camera to capture forever the look of stupefied horror in her features. Unfortunately Fey, rather like the others, was suffering the full horror of the mental image of Jericho decked out in Hello Kitty splendor.
“Hello! Earth to Elfy! Wakey wakey!”
“I think she’s in shock, dude.” Hank was eyeballing Jericho’s attire like it might eat him.
“I guess I’m just too sexy for words. However...” Jericho grimaced as he used his ‘whack the elf back to reality’ tactic. “We went to visit Weretown last night. We had voodoos in the bushes. They tried to run off with some of the local yokels.”
“What?” That got her attention, and that of all the other Kimbas, too.
“I said... Weretown. Voodoos. Attack. No Casualties.”
“Why didn’t anyone call me?” Nikki’s eyes were wide and looked a bit more than upset.
“Didn’t have the time. It was all over in less than ten and no one was in the clear to get the message out. Don’t worry, no serious injuries, nothing me and the Were healers couldn’t handle.”
Nikki breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks for the information Jericho.”
“No problem. However, the reason I’m here is I need someone who can teach Diamondback how to shield against the insanity that the voodoos bring.”
“I can do that.”
Jericho nodded. “Soon, please. Just bear in mind that Diamond’s really damned smart and don’t try to dumb things down for her and you’ll get along fine.”
Nikki nodded.
Jericho stood up and smirked. “Just do me a favor. Don’t screw with her. I don’t want to have to see her crying again.” He left without waiting for a reply.
“Geez, unfriendly much?” Chaka snorted when the blind boy left.
Nikki shook her head. “No, just overprotective. He doesn’t trust many people.”
Jade rolled her eyes. “We’re the pretties and his best friends are GSD. Heavy GSD. There tends to be a pattern of getting burned by the pretty people that seems to run with their type.”
“More Faction Three wisdom?” Chaka asked.
“Actually, Faction Three’s the wrong crowd to get info on that crew.” Jade shrugged. “They apparently want little to do with Faction Three, less to do with Thuban, and seem content to ignore your standard social rules. From what little I hear they tend to either go it by themselves or hang with some of the less actively destructive Ultraviolents and Thornies.”
“Weird.”
“Yeah, that’s a good description.”
Caitlin walked towards the Crystal Hall after she burned out most of the temper eruption that followed Little Miss Security Hellion’s ever-so-fun speech. There was surely a special place in Hell reserved for people like Samantha Everhart. Caitlin’s face had a bruise big and black enough to indicate that she’d been railed hard on her right cheek, and her jaw hurt. She felt like her forehead had been banged against a concrete floor, which it had, and like her arm had almost been dislocated. This was minor, as she’d been hurt worse having fun.
The commentary, however, had been painful and unwelcome. Hell, Caitlin hadn’t even had a chance to finish explaining how she felt before the bitch had absolutely ripped her up one side and down the other with no respect for her, or Cat. Never mind she’d acted all high and mighty about everything, treating her like a pissed-off child who’d gotten her toys taken away. However, this wasn’t the thing that brought Caitlin’s temper well past pissed and into white-hot fury. What truly, utterly and unequivocally made her rage inside was simple.
The bitch was right.
She’d spent the last month and a half wallowing in self-pity, running on autopilot and not doing anything to move forward. The realization in itself was far more galling than Sam’s very professional, infantry-style ass-chewing, complete with bruises. The fact that she’d let her life go to shit while letting herself go back to her old habits of just soaking the pain while doing nothing about it was nothing short of enraging to her. She was better than that! She hadn’t taken shit from life or person since she bounced out of her hometown in Alaska and joined the military.
The results of the pure, frustrated rage that had overtaken her had been the total destruction of two punching bags and three practice ANTS in one of the arena 77 warm-up rooms, and about an hour of screaming bloody murder. Now she wandered into the Crystal Hall after her towering, cathartic, screaming rage had cooled off to a burning desire to hunt down the wayward security officer and eviscerate her. In other words she was once again safe to approach by most people.
As she entered many people gave her a wide berth, as the burning runes in her eyes gave testament to the fact that she was not happy, and the energy corona that flickered and zapped while she moved was nearly continuous, motion or not. The few insects surviving the winter in the Crystal hall found themselves attracted to the light, and found their end seconds thereafter as the energy arced to consume them. Caitlin kept her distance from the other students as she forced herself to calm down, and the empaths in the house stopped giving her such wide-eyed looks.
Once she sat down at the accustomed seat she started collecting her thoughts. Three things occupied her mind, the first being Cat’s death. She needed to snake some time to go visit the gravesite and say her good-byes, something she’d been putting off over and over. Accepting the fact that she was gone might let her move on. The second was the Artificer dilemma. Screw this tiptoeing through the tulips bullshit, it was time to face this instead of hide from it and she was going to find a solution, no matter what she had to ransack to get it. The third was finding dear, sweet little Miss Everhart and thanking her for the wakeup call.
Caitlin kept the option of using a baseball bat spiked with jagged, razor-edged obsidian shards for said thanking open as an option.
The Outcasts were gone, presumably to watch the arena fight. This suited Caitlin just fine. She needed to collect her thoughts, eat some food, and make plans.
“No, dude! I’m telling you that girl over there is an Artificer! She fits the description, the profile, the needing to be locked in wards and everything!” Nephandus spoke to his reluctant cohort Techno-Devil as the two stared across the gulf. “My father made me memorize the signs so I could recognize and capture one of them if I ever found one. She’s the Third, the female Artificer that wasn’t destroyed!”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, Jay-Arm. Big artificer.” Techno-Devil was unimpressed. “So she can make magic items. So can we. Whoop-de-fucking-doo.”
Nephandus sighed, and leaned over. “Look, we don’t build strictly magic items, and you know it. We just happen to be Devisors who know enough about magic to mesh the two powers. She can build magic items with the raw power to raise armies, level cities, or just enhance our own work!”
Nephandus was bubbling over with excitement, and Techno-Devil sighed. “All right Techno-Dweeb, yes, I called you Techno-Dweeb. First, how are we supposed to capture her? Second, how the hell do we control her? Third, she hangs out with Jericho and Razorback, both of whom would feel no mercy in their hearts for either of us on general principle, much less if we screw with their friend. Fourth, how would we keep little miss hot shit over there from eviscerating you when you put the moves on her? I mean she’s nice eye-candy but I don’t think she’ll just melt before your charm.”
The overly excited bad joke of Devisor shop considered carefully. “Remember that hypnosis spell that I put into that focus crystal for Fey?”
“Oh come on Neph! That thing failed miserably!”
“How was I supposed to know she wouldn’t be affected by a simple glamour?”
“Because she’s actually one of the funky-ass Sidhe elves that dad frequently reminds me and Jadis not to screw with?”
“Ok fine, that’s beside the point. This Artificer isn’t a Sidhe, hell she isn’t even human. All the books say she’s a bloody construct, and a docile one to boot. She’s just stone and magic, without much in the way of free will. Hell, we could probably just order her to follow us and she’d likely do it. A little subtle hypnosis can’t hurt.”
Techno nodded. “Ok, this is starting to sound like something doable. So how do we beat the Razorback/Jericho angle? I’m not so much worried about Jericho. He’s no Slapdash or Mega-Death in the battle-construction department. But I am worried about Razorback. That stinking rager’s about as mindlessly destructive as they come, and I don’t want to have to deal with him.”
Nephandus rolled his eyes. “It’s Razorback. Duh. A little sonic lovetap and he’s out of commission. Besides, chickadee over there doesn’t live near those two, so we can probably just tag her alone on her way to Hawthorne. After that we disappear while I apply some tattoo magic and we have a nice, obedient servant bound to my will, rather like Cav and Sky to the Don.”
“You will, huh? What do I get out of this?”
Nephandus smiled. “Access to probably the best mystic forge-wright in the world. Add to this Artificers know how to transmute materials, including core magic materials like Mithril and Orichalcum. I think a couple pounds of each might do wonders for your inventions.”
Techno-Devil turned and looked at Nephandus with a look of pure greed in his eyes. “All right, Neph, you got yourself a deal. Let’s do this tonight, before anyone catches wind of it.”
“Agreed. The faster, the better. Meet me near the Thorny Freakshow House tonight after the arena stuff is over. We’ll get set up there.”
“And how do we deal with Fubar?”
Nephandus grinned and pulled out a simple amulet. “Easy money. Simple charms that will make him overlook us in the static.”
Techno-Devil nodded and the two boys watched the Artificer girl with some subtlety, staying in the Crystal hall with visions of riches and power dancing in their heads.
Cloaked by invisibility a rather plain-looking girl stood above the two scheming boys as they planned their little kidnapping. The stupid things her baby brother would agree to...
Jadis, the She-Beast remained cloaked and quiet as the boys detailed their plot, and brainstormed options. Idly she wondered if the two twits could pull it off. She needed intel before she decided to interfere in what was surely another of her brother and Neph’s hair-brained schemes.
Tuesday, December 12th, 2006
Ito looked at the massed audience of students gathered in Arena 99 for the excitement. He smiled evilly as Punch, Lancer’s normal sparring partner knocked Jobe’s lights out. It was a red-letter day for the pudgy brick girl as she managed to walk away from a victory with quite probably the most arrogant, revolting and despicable student in school. Jobe, the notorious Bio-Devisor had underestimated the girl, and had to be wheeled out after she’d shrugged off the effects of the toxic goodies he’d arranged for the bout. She’d barely been left standing and able to fight, or even use the spindle to confirm her victory, but she pulled it off by the skin of her teeth.
As she was helped out of the arena, Ito spoke into the pickup he had clipped to his suit. “Ladies and gentlemen. It is time to explain the purpose of last night’s battle between Chaka, Silo, Nephandus and Bravo. Please remain in your seats and maintain silence while Gunny Bardue of the Crisis Simulation Team explains that and several upcoming matches over the week.”
Gunny Bardue stepped into view wearing the traditional garb of a Marine Corps Drill Instructor. The sixty-plus year old African-American put forth the reality of what intimidation should be. “All right kids, listen up! For those of you who were here for the battle royale last night we have a special treat for you all.” His strong voice almost didn’t need the amplifier pickups to be heard, as he knew how to project.
“In the real world, the battles you think you’ll be fighting are not necessarily going to be the ones you will find yourself involved in. This is why we have the Crash, a set of exercises geared to illustrate the difficulties we face in the world outside of Whateley Academy. Each year, two or three teams are chosen, and certain members hand-selected to illustrate something we, the staff, believe you all need to consider in the future. In the Crash, anything goes. Multiple opponents, odd situation, complete changes in the rules of the game and opponents who are NOT your fellow students are all part of this event. This means should we deem it necessary, we will place a lone Freshman against a small pack of Seniors, or a SWAT Team, or if we’re feeling particularly froggy, one of your instructors.”
Bardue paused. “Now, in the interest of moving things along allow me to address the teams. From each team we have hand-selected some of the members to participate in the Crash, and their opponents. This is not a team versus team thing, but a series of extremely difficult tests. To the junior members of the Capes, the Wild Pack and the Grunts, you have been the standard set for the Crash for the past four years. You will not be participating as our primary subjects in the Crash events this year.” Bardue paused again as the murmuring started. “And now I give you the two teams from which we have hand-selected our Crash subjects. TEAM KIMBA! OUTCAST CORNER! Welcome to the Crash!”
Bardue grinned evilly as both of the freshman teams looked like deer in headlights, including Caitlin, whom he saw freeze as she was walking down the aisle to her new friends. The students were standing, craning their heads for a look at the two teams who would be suffering the wrath of the Combat Finals, trying to guess which ones would be dropped into the hotseat.
“You’re a rotten old bastard Bardue!!!” He couldn’t see the person yelling, but he could guess, as it sounded male. And blind. He gave his most patently evil grin.
“Your hatred only feeds my power.” He turned and nodded to Ito and got the nod from the Japanese man. “Ladies and Gentlemen, for our second Crash event, in the spirit of the martial arts victory of Chaka in our Disaster Zone Scenario, I give you our one independent Crash subject. BLADEDANCER! Get to the Arena! NEX! Get down here! Let’s see what you got.”
Bardue grinned in a way that would later be described as demonic in a way even Sara Waite would have been hard-pressed to mimic. “Watch the screens. We’re going to have a night-fight.”
The monitors that allowed close-up views of the arena shifted, then seemed to glow as a thermographic image of the battlefield was displayed, showing all the various points of heat in the arena.
The Kimbas sat, mouths agape at Bardue’s pronouncement, looking at each other with shock while Chaka grinned ferally. Chou stood shakily, a little pale. Jade wasn’t present at the moment, having gone to collect some of her things in preparation to go visit that mad doctor she had been introduced to by Thuban.
Hank gulped. “I think I know why some of us haven’t been told when our combat finals are.”
Chou looked to her friends, and Chaka grinned at her. “You get him, girl. Nex won’t know what hit him.”
“Give him a swift one to the cujones for me,” Nikki added with some venom. She hadn’t forgiven, or forgotten the ambush Nex had sprung on her.
Tennyo growled before she spoke. “You got this Chou. Show this ninja-punk wannabe what a real martial-artist can do.
“Trust in the Tao, Chou. Nothing happens without a reason.” Destiny’s wave spoke as she moved around the arena to the entrance of the battle area.
“I know, but why Nex? I’ve never gone up against someone like him.”
“It does not matter. Trust in yourself and use the resources you have been given and he cannot defeat you.”
The conversation broke as Chou found herself blocked by a tall, Amazon-like girl with steel-irised, rune-scripted eyes and metallic black hair that ran straight down her back to below her ribs. The girl was standing in the aisle, and recoiled from her slightly, as though she recognized her. The girl’s eyes flicked to the blade once and widened. Something like fear tore through the girl’s features before she composed herself and nodded. Chou reached for the Tao, maybe to learn something about why the girl recoiled and found nothing.
Destiny’s wave was oddly silent, and Chou saw, or rather felt, nothing from the girl save a wound, like she should be there but was not, a vortex of chaos, unpredictable and unreadable, like her destiny was unformed or missing, torn from her or dead. It was unnerving as all get out. Even demons had a presence in the web-pattern. Then she remembered, the feeling of someone torn from the web as though screaming and fighting a while back and leaving a shadow-presence that wasn’t really there. Well she seemed to have found the source.
She snapped back to reality as the girl spoke again. The feral and hostile look on her face was unmistakable, but it wasn’t directed at her. The odd girl pointed at her opponent, taking his leisurely time and spoke. “Kick his ass, and I’ll send you and your buddies pizzas. Nex is an overconfident braggart with a touch of Diedricks. Get him mad and screaming and you own him.” The voice the girl had was eerily familiar, and Chou turned her head to make sure it was, in fact, the girl and not Destiny’s Wave being cute by mimicking an American accent or not clipping her voice to the soft tones of a traditional Chinese woman.
Chou watched as the girl walked away towards Jericho and his pack of unruly GSD friends, as well as a surprising number of kids wearing the Ultraviolent protected armbands, also known as the Underdogs, or the Born Losers Club to the student body at large. She was rubbing a spot above her right kidney as she walked away.
“DW?”
“Not now, Chou, we’ll talk about this later. Now is not the time to discuss this, nor to act.”
Chou sighed and moved into the arena, drawing Destiny’s Wave and drawing her cloak around her. She slid on a simple red and gold mask with a yin-yang symbol between the eyes and darted into the shadows as the lights seemed to dim, and the Arena cityscape took on the aspect of night.
Caitlin was unnerved by the girl with the sword. She’d never seen Chou Lee up close but her appearance and face triggered memories and flashes that she hadn’t been aware of. Flashes of past lives were becoming as much a part of her as the new body. Most of the memories she could do without, as they dealt with her times under the thumbs of various mages and monsters as she slaved for them to create magic items that no mortal had any right holding. Sometimes the flashes were of happy, contented lives, or from childhoods that weren’t hers.
This memory was of death, specifically, hers. She’d seen that face, and blade before. The memory was as poignant and painful as the one of Nex stabbing her above the kidney from behind. The death didn’t bother her. Quite frankly she felt each of the ends she’d faced in her past incarnations to be mercy of the highest order. She also recognized the girl and blade that killed her in the mountains of China, God only knew how many years before. The currents didn’t react to either one, flowing through them like they were merely more current flowing through reality.
It was only the thought that this girl could end her should someone capture and bind her again that had kept her from panicking and running in terror. She didn’t want to die, and would fight tooth and nail to prevent it, but it was reassuring to see someone who had struck her from the life of hell before and might do so again. Mercy in any form, even death.
Caitlin sat down next to Sandra and looked up at the two MID cards. They could not have been more different.
Code Name: |
BLADEDANCER |
Ratings:: |
Baseline Human, Tai-Chi, Chinese Martial Arts |
Techniques: |
Chinese Sage-Blade, Weapons of Opportunity, Sweeping Strike, Shadowed blade, Stalker-strike |
Weak vs.: |
Normal human vulnerabilities. No powers of note. |
Backup/Team affiliation: |
Independant/Team Kimba |
Code Name: |
Nex |
Ratings:: |
ESP-3, PSI-3, TK-4 |
Techniques: |
Cloak, Psiknife, Vortex, Eyebreaker, Doppleganger |
Weak vs.: |
Diedrick’s Disorder |
Backup/Team affiliation: |
Masterminds |
Upon reflection, a night fight scenario suited her just fine. Chou re-buttoned her Chinese-style cloak around her tightly and shivered slightly. From all indications, if she was the only independent Crash subject, and Toni’s battle-royale with two maniacs and the world’s biggest joke of a mage, the rule of the Crash was anything goes. That could be the only possible reason for her facing a junior, who was supposed to be facing other upper-classmen next week.
She huddled in a shadow under a supermarket, letting the power of the cloak slide over her, making her appear as nothing more than another shadow in the dark, nearly impossible to see. She scanned her surroundings and took stock. The storefronts and offices of one of Chicago’s many business districts made for an odd battlefield. There were no bystanders other than the occasional drunk leaning against a store door, or the occasional human body wrapped in a blanket to simulate the night life, or lack thereof, of a darkened city street. A lone police cruiser drifted down the road to the soft hum of a modern engine.
Chou got up and began moving from shadow to shadow, the cloak blurring her image and breaking up her outline. While there was no way one could miss the rapidly flitting shadow moving from point to point the brief moments of immobility were enough to render her all but invisible to the naked human eye. Surprisingly she reached the spindle completely unopposed.
Ayla spotted Nex in the thermographic imagers first. He had circled around Chou with a leisurely lack of effort and was simply walking in the open behind her, following her trail. His psychic invisibility trick couldn’t fool the mechanical sensors dotting the arena floor, or the cameras angled for the best view. His posture was nothing short of contemptuous for the ridiculous baseline girl he was trailing, and he treated it like a leisurely stroll in a park during daylight.
“I really hope she smears him.” Nikki growled fiercely.
“Well she’s not in a position to do much about him. He’s right behind her and she doesn’t SEE him.” Tennyo looked worried. “I thought she was some kind of super-mystic.”
Nikki shook her head as Ayla spoke. “Chou’s still getting used to the whole Tao thing. I mean come on. Mystic she may be and a helluva handful to boot, but we all know Nex can get the drop on mystics.”
Nikki thought back to the battle with the Voodoo-Wolves a few nights back. “If she’s looking the right way, she’ll get him. But I don’t know if she’s looking.”
Toni snorted. “Even if she doesn’t spot him first, he’d have to cripple her on the first shot to put her down. Once that girl gets rolling she gives me a rough time in sparring matches.”
“That’s just it,” the ethereal redhead said quietly, “He will probably do just that.”
Tennyo rolled her eyes. “Oh come on, Nikki. Quit being such a pessimist. Chou’s going to turn him inside-out.”
Toni smiled. “You’ve said it yourself, roomie, Nex is an overblown hackwit coward. Give him solid resistance and he caves. You worry too much. We’ve seen what she can do, and Nex ain’t nearly as bad as some things.”
Nikki nodded as Chou activated the spindle, sending furtive glances as the strobing lights on the device announced that Bladedancer was beginning to fulfill the victory conditions. “Maybe you’re right. I worry a lot sometimes, but she’s a friend.”
“Friends don’t let friends get mopey, so quit over-thinking this bit and let’s just cheer our friends on.” Toni looked down at the Arena floor. “Besides, I don’t think Nex CAN win this one.”
“Oh? And why is that, oh mighty mistress of hyper?”
“Because I said so.”
“Care to place money on that justification?”
Toni just grinned.
The conversation at the Outcast section was dead. Four Outcasts, two Fury twins and a small army of Underdogs were watching with rapt fascination. Even Razorback and Jericho were nearly praying that Bladedancer would really, really fuck Nex up. The fact that he was a junior didn’t even enter into it. The fact that the guy was a complete dick did.
Only Razorback noticed that Caitlin was leaning forward, watching the arena and not the screens, her posture was verging on violent, and her breath came in short spurts that sounded like soft growls to his ears. The runes in her eyes, directed away from the others, were burning with an eerie, molten glow, as though the metal of her irises had superheated.
Diamondback, Phobos and Deimos watched on with eager, even violent expressions, so caught up in the moment and fascination that they didn’t realize that the storm of fury, hate, and rage they were feeling towards Nex wasn’t born of their hearts, but of the troubled girl sitting just a few seats away.
Nex watched patiently as the girl plugged in the last question, her finger hovering over the enter key as she took a look around and yet again failed to see him. He was mildly amused by his own plan. Let her finish, let her revel in her victory, and then snatch it away as she relaxed. He’d plotted the strike perfectly, not a lethal one but she would never walk again, thus removing an unwanted baseline blemish on his school for the truly gifted. He could afford a little more patience.
Chou’s finger struck the enter key and the spindle went dark, inert. He noted Chou’s gasp as a single line of text displayed on the monitor. He moved in closer and took a look, and puzzled over it for a minute before comprehension dawned. Then the sword started talking.
‘SHOULDN’T YOU BE KICKING NEX’S ASS RIGHT NOW?’ Chou read and re-read the message on the screen with disbelief. Then the reality sank in.
“I spy, with my lack of eyes...” Destiny’s Wave was almost sing-song, like a child playing a game, “an IDIOT! MOVE!”
Chou threw herself aside as Nex erupted beside her, hand swinging in a wide arc as a knife-blade of psychokinetic energy flashed into existence. The strike passed through the spot where her spine had been seconds before. Unfortunately it caught her rib, gashing her open as she darted away. The suddenly visible junior tore through the spaces she chose to occupy like a mad tornado, not giving her any time to mount a defense or do much more than draw Destiny’s Wave.
Nex pressed his advantage mercilessly, eerily silent save for the obscene hum of the energy surrounding his hands as the knifehand strikes whipped through the air scant millimeters from her skin, sometimes drawing blood, sometimes not. Chou was barely able to avoid the rapid-fire series of attacks by the skin of her teeth, finally drawing DW across to parry one of the knifehands.
The psychic energy leading the blades shattered and fizzled as Nex gashed his hand on the white-jade-blade. With a hiss he threw himself back and vanished from her eyes. She took the opportunity to reach for the Tao clumsily and began running.
She found herself following an odd track not entirely of her choosing as she pelted through alleyways, offices and vaulted over dumpsters and climbed fire escapes in a chaotically random non-pattern that took gross advantage of moving shadows that would cover her passage. When she felt it was safe she stopped and hunkered down, invisible against the background.
She reached into a pocket and pulled out a thin strip of paper and crudely drew the Chinese pictogram for “Protection,” and looked for a way to affix it to her head. She finally settled for licking the back of it and sticking the thing to her forehead. The protective spell wasn’t very powerful, but it should allow her to buy enough time to catch her breath while Nex scoured the arena with his mind, seeking his prey.
“Licking the paper to stick it to something seems somewhat barbaric.” Destiny’s wave was no louder than a whisper.
“Yeah? Blame it on my upbringing.” Chou whispered, “If it’s stupid, but it works, it ain’t stupid.”
“Yes, I agree, but there is a question of style, Chou.”
“Survival first, style later.” Chou looked around, looking for any sign of her assailant. “I don’t suppose the Tao wants to help with this one?”
“I thought you’d never ask. Yes Chou, but you’d know this had you looked yourself before entering into this conflict. You must learn to do these things without me prompting you. It is you who must wield me and act as the Handmaiden, not the other way around.”
“Yeah, I’ve done so well at that, letting myself get sucked into killing some poor guy who never deserved what he got.”
“Which is why I urge you to start looking for yourself. If you don’t start doing that on your own, there will be more needless deaths, even if you did do the man and his family a favor. Learn to trust again, but remember to confirm the facts before you go in.”
“Facts. Something that’s in rather short supply for me right now. I better start connecting before the spell fails.”
Even as she said it she opened herself to the Tao. The web of destiny here was simple, all of the other threads were grossly unimportant, but hers and Nex’s were critical. Suddenly she understood the reason why the combat instructors pitted her against the boy.
The instructors wanted her to smear Nex, to teach him some humility, to show him that baseline humans were not the pathetic pieces of uselessness that he thought of them. They believed she could do it. A few of the instructors, warriors of the modern battlefield more than teachers, didn’t want to see her simply win. They dearly hoped she would stomp him into the ground and rub his nose in it. They wanted her to humiliate him and cripple his confidence so that he would never casually maim and cripple another person without considering the consequences. The Tao did not object. Simple defeat or humiliation would accomplish the same thing for Nex’s destiny in the long run, and Chou had a grudge to settle on behalf of a friend.
The Handmaiden would grant their wish.
Rythax watched the proceedings with something akin to amusement. It was rather like watching a tournament, only far more... brutal. All in all the ancient shadowcat found the whole concept rather engaging, once the initial distress from Molly, the darling girl who could call him away from his limbo had subsided some. Her distress at seeing Chou ambushed after she should have won this little contest had been like an alarm siren in the ancient diplomat’s mind and he had erupted from his imprisonment in full splendor, scaring many of the students nearby and causing them to panic. After the reality that Molly was in no danger he settled in to watch, reducing himself to the dainty size (to him) of a normal panther.
Idly he glanced over at Molly, who was distressed over the superficial injuries her paramour sported, yet eager as Chou began moving again. The tiny girl’s hands were in fists, shaking slightly, while her heels bounced off the floor rapidly, and she could clearly be heard muttering “Get him, Chou. Get him. Get him.”
“My dear Lady, calm yourself. I’m sure Chou Lee will be fine once she deals with this... Assassin.” Rythax spat out the word with distaste. Combative though he could be when pressed, he preferred by far the play of words and intent that came with double entendre and diplomacy.
“Can’t I be worried?” Molly’s tone hovered between upset and angry, although with humans, who could tell?
“Of course dear Lady, however, I can not quite figure out whether you are worried, or seeking vendetta. Your voice and scent speak of both to me.”
“He’d better not hurt her any more or I’ll gouge his freaking eyes out!”
Rythax didn’t press, instead went back to half-watching the arena spectacle, half watching the Pack-Stalker, or at least what similar to one, that was doing more or less the same thing, watching the fight and eyeballing him in turn. Rythax determined to enjoy the arena battle, and make sure the Stalker didn’t come near Molly. The things were notoriously dangerous to ally and enemy alike. It never occurred to Rythax that the other one might be doing the same, eyeballing him in case he came near the tight knot of students near it.
Wilson grinned in a manner akin to a shark as he watched Chou begin moving with a purpose again, this time directly towards Nex, circling behind the Junior in exactly the same jaunty fashion he’d trailed her. “Yo Gunny B, Ito, check this out! Looks like Tolman was right!”
“Well I’ll be an Army Ranger.” Bardue grinned as Wilson gave the old man the finger. “Looks like Nex is in for a fun one.”
“Twenty bucks says Bladedancer breaks him.” Wilson held the bill under Bardue’s nose.
“You’re on. If she wins, it’ll be worth it.”
Ito just smiled.
Chou couldn’t see him, but she knew he was walking ahead of her about fifteen paces away, carefully watching the surroundings, except behind him. Apparently it never occurred to Nex that she might do exactly the same thing he did to her, walking jauntily behind her prey, while the ironic echoes of laughter echoed above from the stadium seats. Time to up the ante. She drew Destiny’s Wave and dove forward, and past Nex, slashing him lightly along the arm as she moved. He let out a startled yelp as his concentration broke.
“What’s the matter Nex, Baselines a bit much for you to handle?” Chou’s voice was mocking as she crouched in front of him, blade at an odd ready stance while the Tao guided her, and that strange girl’s words thundered through her head. Get him mad and screaming and you own him.
“Nothing you can do matters here,” Nex’s words were startled, shaky. He wasn’t used to being actually challenged by anything short of a TK brick or high regen. “Once I’m done with you, the school will be back as it belongs, with no baseline trash to muddy the waters.”
Chou raised an eyebrow. “You do realize the folks up above can hear everything you’re saying?”
“What do I care about them? They all feel the same way. There is no place here for baselines. Teachers, or students it doesn’t matter. You’ll be shipped out with the rest of the trash sooner or later.”
Looking up, the sword-wielding girl smiled. She could clearly see the looks of disagreement on many of the students’ faces even in the darkness. That odd girl was leaning over the precipice cracking her knuckles. She could see Stormwolf looking down, face like a thundercloud. The Grunts looked collectively like they were going to spit bullets. And the most disturbing were the faces of Ito and Bardue, Ito with that serene expression on his face and Bardue with a grin that could have made the damned demon that hounded her scream in terror and flee for his life.
“I think our peers disagree.”
Nex’s first attacks were parried easily, though he seemed to not notice. “What would you know about peers you baseline trash? Why are you even here?”
Ok, that hurt, because she could see several of the students also nodding in agreement with Nex’s sentiment. She idly made a few attacks of her own. His skills were being suborned to anger, and he went from deadly to novice in seconds. She danced back and shook her head.
“Why am I here? Simple Nex, because they couldn’t find anyone else close enough to your power to make it challenging. Everyone else would have kicked your ass sideways. Alas, only the simple baseline girl was weak enough to give you a chance at winning.” Chou’s eyes gleamed as she drove the last nail home. “Fey was right. You are a pathetic loser.”
Nex stood there shaking in a rage as the slight girl completed the insult by sheathing her blade and turning her back on him as unworthy of her time. All thought ceased as he attacked, screaming, determined to gut the cocky little shit and bleed her out all over the arena floor.
It worked, but it wasn’t fun. Chou darted away and down an alley, giggling despite herself. She knew it would only piss him off more. She could hear him clearly, snarling death threats as she vaulted off an alley wall, hit the other and bounced upward on the brick faces and into an open window. He followed, scant inches behind her and she faced him, standing as though she’d just been to a party, rather than doing strenuous activity. “Oh, you’re still here?”
Nex shrieked in an absolute rage and shot towards her, only to find himself redirected into a wall. Again he charged, and again he faceplanted, this time with the floor. As he stood up he actually focused and the psiknives formed around his hands, and she found herself staring at the ruins of his nose. He slammed the psiknives together and the world seemed to slow for her as bright bolts of energy exploded in all directions towards her. The energy shards were small, and fast, and she found herself not escaping, but dodging in such a way that none of them would hit anything vital, guided by the Tao to suffer minimum damage. Unfortunately the Tao didn’t exactly filter out the fact that it hurt like hell.
Nex charged, and Chou found herself not caring so much about the fact that she was gashed and bleeding so much as blocking his attacks. The psiknives flickered and faded, Nex was too enraged and out of control to focus properly, and she found herself instead battling him amidst a psychic storm as random objects in the nearly-empty room whipped about randomly like they were caught in a whirlwind.
Each time she parried an attack it was almost gentle, a redirection of his blows, and she leeched a tiny portion of his chi away with each strike. Thus it went for several minutes as he danced around her, attacking and being blocked as she refused to move. Any motion done wrong and her leg would buckle; the muscles of her left thigh were injured by the energy shards.
Nex was screaming incoherently, howling promises of pain, never realizing that with each strike, he expended more energy, and she took it from him, adding it to her own pool, until she felt ready to burst.
He never realized she’d moved until he felt her foot slam into his chest, driving him back, hard. He hit the open window and fell, tumbling back in freefall, barely managing to twist so he didn’t snap his neck when he hit the concrete and stopped moving. Chou smiled as the Tao left her, and she fell to her knees, the pain of the myriad cuts finally getting to her and waited for the medics to get to her.
There was much cheering in the arena. Bardue passed the twenty to Wilson with a grin, and Ito nodded to himself approvingly. Diamondback and the fury twins let out a feral shriek of victory, and Razorback and the Underdogs roared their approval. The Kimbas were oddly silent, with knowing looks and wide grins pasted to their faces. Even Stormwolf let the facade break and he chuckled as the instant replay of Nex getting defenestrated played on the screens, complete with amazed commentary from Peeper over the Arena P.A. and WARS station.
Molly was shrieking, half pleased, half enraged at the damage Nex had done to her girlfriend. Rythax nodded in his smug, self-satisfied, feline way and nudged the girl. “Come, let’s go make sure she’s well. It will make both of you feel better.”
“Okay!” Molly was happy to find an excuse to run to Chou’s side. She never realized she was being herded away from someone.
Rythax and Razorback exchanged half-quizzical, half-warning looks at each other as the shadowcat and mottled raptor-kid interposed themselves between each other and their friends and charges. Neither made any move towards the other, and the incident faded away in the wash of mad cheer that infected the arena. So intent on each other were they that Rythax never noticed the odd, metallic-haired, sparking girl as she had left the company of her friends.
Off away from everyone else, Caitlin smiled as she reached the phone, the feeling of smug satisfaction actually overpowered the disappointment that she hadn’t been the one to smear Nex. Having a baseline girl do it was so much more satisfying, however. She picked up the phone, and began dialing. “Hello, Wild Mike’s Pizza? I have a Whateley delivery for ‘ya. Yeah, no problem, the standard surcharge. Poe cottage, I need a Team Special. That’s right, give it the works. I need it delivered at about six PM. Recipient is Bladedancer. That’s right. Debit card number is...”
“Okay, why the hell am I here?” Caitlin snarled. She found herself in Doctor Polland’s office after Carson had personally hunted her down and told her in no uncertain terms to report to the Powers Testing labs. The evil queen of Whateley had spoken.
Doctor Polland sighed. He knew she was going to be a handful, he just wished that he could believe she’d be less of a handful than that Paige Donner girl that had come over from the weres. Experience told him otherwise. “We just need to do a rotine run Caitlin. It came from on high yesterday. Both Carson and your guardian want you fully tested out and ready. You have an MID card interview tomorrow morning and we need to get your biometrics and powers locked in.”
“Why the hell do we have to do it during Combat Finals? It’s not like it has to be done before January, I got here late!”
Polland sighed. “Sorry, but it has to be done today. Headmistress’ orders.”
Caitlin folded her arms across her chest and snarled to herself.
“All right, if you’re done, we’re actually set up to test you properly this time, hopefully without interference from your aural energies.”
“Wonderful. Can we do this fast?”
“That depends on you.”
“I can’t believe I’m missing the Combat Finals for this shit.”
Polland just sighed. Erik Mahren’s abrupt and total transformation had done nothing to curb the former Marine’s surly, Lab-Rat mentality or aggressive nature.
The Xavier test was a repeat of the first time she did it, and she began the intelligence/physical portion rapidly, as she’d done it dozens of times before. Only the changing nature of the test made it a challenge, as she couldn’t just memorize the answers on the fly. She also wound up skipping a lot of questions that were pertaining to advanced concepts that she had no basis of knowledge for, as usual. It was looking to be a long day.
Chou entered the Crystal Hall to cheering, mostly from the underclassmen, and the few upperclassmen who weren’t concerned with decorum, or who actively despised Nex. She was bandaged up, and had spent a while in the infirmary getting stitched and bandaged up. She’d gotten to see Punch in the infirmary bed, working off the toxins Jobe had hit her with, veritably surrounded by flowers and get-well cards from students who held similar opinions of Jobe Wilkins.
She was treated to a hero’s welcome that would undoubtedly be forgotten in the wake of the next great victory by someone in the Finals, but it was nice to have everyone on her side for a change. Sure, the Ninjas were giving her dirty looks but the smiles from the Kimba table more than made up for that. Several painful slaps on the back later and she realized that Killstench of all people was carrying her tray for her. She guessed even the Ultraviolents held Nex in some measure of contempt, or hatred. She didn’t know if she wanted to find out why though.
Killstench parted ways with her after setting the tray down with a nervous sidelong glance at Jade and half-ran back to his buddies. Jade watched with a mischievous smirk on her face.
“Oh thank god, I was afraid he’d try to talk to us or something.” Tennyo watched the Ultraviolent boy leave with distaste.
“Maybe he realized that you don’t like him oneesan.” Jade managed a completely innocent little smile as she said it.
Hank rolled his eyes. “Suuuuuure he did.”
“What? You act as if you disbelieve!”
“So how did the visit with the doc go?” Nikki asked with morbid curiosity.
“Just more preliminary stuff.” Jade looked disappointed. “Nothing worth talking about... yet.”
“It’s the ‘yet’ that has me worried.” Toni changed the subject as she realized Chou was sitting down. “Hey hey hey Bladedancer! Nice work with Tweedledee the wonder dummy.”
Chou was subjected to half a dozen smiles, two hugs and three or four happy, yet painful pats on the back. “Ow, guys go easy. I have stitches there!”
“Oops. Sorry.” Hank looked chagrined.
“No worries. Hey where’s Molly?”
Nikki looked over at Chou and smiled. “She’ll be back. She said something about bringing Rythax in. Apparently he wanted to congratulate you as well.”
Chou rolled her eyes. “Oh great, one of Rythax’s dissertations. If she wasn’t so cute I’d be tempted to throttle her.”
“Well it’s a good thing I’m so cute then.” Molly plopped into the empty seat next to Chou and grinned. “You nearly gave me a heart-attack. Don’t do that again.”
Chou looked back and saw the shadowcat, who bore a wounded expression on his face, and smirked. “Come on Rythax, I was joking. Thank you for coming along.”
Rythax looked mollified and smoothly moved up so he was looking chou in the eye with those alien, feline orbs of his. “Well fought warrior. It has been some time since I’ve been privileged to see such skill.” Chou’s look of surprise at the short praise didn’t seem lost on the cat, and Rythax’s eyes glittered with amusement at her confusion.
“Just when I thought I had you figured out, Rythax.”
“Why whatever could you mean, my Lady? I am but a humble diplomat, ill suited to the winds and ways of deception.” The shadowcat somehow managed to not look smug.
“Yes, just when you think you have a shadowcat figured out...” Nikki’s voice held that ancient edge to it, and her eyes twinkled mischievously.
Rythax managed to do that odd bowing thing again. “Ah, but I am remiss once again for not having greeted you properly, oh Queen of the West.”
Nikki managed to somehow stop just shy of shooting tea out through her nostril as he said it. “Ya know, I’m really, really going to have to talk to my P.R. guy. This queen thing’s really starting to grate.” In a more quiet voice she muttered, “I’m so glad I remembered to put up the conversation barrier.” She tried to ignore the Sidhe queen’s laughter in the back of her mind as she contemplated the reactions of the nearby students to that.
“So Chou, how did you do that whole Chi drain thing?” Toni leaned forward, eager to learn a new trick. “I mean I caught the bare edges of it. Those cameras really put a damper on the whole thing, you know?”
“Sure, I’ll tell you, after you teach me how you did that tornado surfer thing.” Chou smirked back at her martial artist buddy.
“What? And give away the secrets of my most impressive, yet functionally useless tricks?”
“Useless?” Nikki sputtered.
“Tell that to Silo,” Hank grinned.
Toni, of course, protested her innocence. “It’s not my fault he was in the way! How was I supposed to know that when I’d roundhoused him into the funnel that he’d STAY there?”
“No Chi drain tricks for you.” Chou gave Toni a twisted little smirk.
“Would you teach ME the Chi-drain tricks?” Molly’s puppy dog look was so innocent and beautiful Chou nearly melted.
“Well, since you asked so nicely...”
“I see how it is.” Toni pretended to grump at them.
Nikki simply smirked at her friends as they went back and forth, having managed to drain the offending leaf-based drink from the back of her nasal passages. “So Rythax, what did you think of the school’s latest torture tool for the student body?”
“Torture tool? Surely you cannot mean the tournament, my Queen.” Rythax looked scandalized by the thought.
“If that’s what you wanna call it, then yeah, the Tournament.”
“Actually I find it rather fascinating, rather akin to the tourneys held by the Court of the West, only with less fanfare and more emphasis on raw martial prowess.” The Shadowcat looked around at the half-empty Crystal Hall. “The raw power held by some of these short-lived human children is staggering to say the least, and yet to have no fatalities during the proceedings thus far. It seems a monument to the self-control and advancement of a race of people whom I never thought would be more than a footnote in history. No offense intended, Ladies, Sir, but I find myself pleasantly surprised and grateful that my perceptions were awry. Otherwise I might still be stuck in a pocket of space with nothing to do and none to talk to.”
Nikki and the other kids had an ironic chuckle at that, given their knowledge of human history. Advancement and self-control rarely seemed to go hand-in-hand in the world.
“Did I say something amusing?”
Molly smiled and held a hand out, and Rythax suffered the indignity of having his ears scratched in public with stoic determination, and no small measure of pleasure that he would never allow anyone to see. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll understand as you learn more about humanity and our history.”
“I’m certain of that. Ah, I thought it would bear mention that there is a Pack-Stalker here. Or something very similar.”
Nikki raised an eyebrow. “Explain please.”
“Ah yes, you would have a different name for them, yet I forget at the moment what that was.” Rythax craned his head up and looked around the Hall until he spotted his target. “Over there, the great, black mottled beast sitting with the dark boy with the strange hair and white eyes.”
The entire table looked over and Toni snorted. “Oh man you must have been stuck alone for a long time if you see Jericho and you think his hair is the weirdest thing about him.”
“Would I have given offense?”
Chou shook her head. “Naw, I doubt there’s anything you could say to Jericho that’d offend him Rythax. He’s... weird, and he revels in it.”
Rythax chuckled to himself. “How droll, but his companion is the one who concerns me.”
“Razorback is no worry unless provoked, Rythax.” The voice that emanated was not quite Nikki. “That one doesn’t seem to be one of the ones you are thinking of. He’s too big, too spiny, too broad in the chest and his arms are as long and developed as any human. He doesn’t even acts as the old Grendelhadagh did. He’s driven as much by thought as instinct, and he’s far more powerful than any of those that I ever saw.”
“Earth to Unga-Dunga,” Toni looked at her friend oddly. “What in the world are you two babbling about?”
“We are talking about some of the Gaian court’s old warriors Toni. Gaia’s warriors tended to follow a much more animalistic and feral bent. The only real strictures she placed on them were those of instinct. They were left to fend for themselves and destroy any pockets of the old enemy that they came across. Some were great, some were small. All were dangerous, and not just to that enemy.”
Chou shrugged. “So basically you’re saying the dinosaurs were demon-hunters?”
Nikki or Aunghadhail, one couldn’t always tell which, shrugged and gave that maddening smirk that couldn’t really be taken as confirmation or denial, and then dug into her plate of green stuff.
Jade rolled her eyes dramatically. “And you all say I’M weird.”
“Diamondback, would you come with me please?” Mrs. Dennon caught Sandra just outside the powers testing area, bringing a tray piled with the usual eats Caitlin normally went after.
“Am I in trouble?”
“No young lady, you’re not in trouble. Sensei Ito and Gunnery Sergeant Bardue would like to speak with you.” The elderly woman’s stern face softened a bit as the serpentine girl relaxed, and then tensed up.
“I’m in the Crash next, aren’t I?”
“I see you’re a bit quicker on the draw than most students. Yes, your match will be coming up shortly.”
“Crap.” Sandra slouched a little. “Can I at least give Caitlin her lunch and tell her what’s up? I wanted to drop in and keep her company so she’d have someone to talk to instead of being driven insane as a lab rat.”
“Of course, but make it swift, girl. We are on a timeline.”
Sandra nodded and slithered into the testing areas and asked around, eventually being directed to a room where Caitlin was in the middle of the notorious “dodge ball from hell” phase of her testing. Mrs. Dennon walked discretely behind and stopped, watching through the armor-plastic window as the girl dodged bowling balls lobbed at her at random intervals. She wasn’t sparking her corona, and Diamondback reflected that the wards that had been drawn into the walls might have had something to do with that.
It was always much cooler to watch the reflex test than be a part of it upon reflection. Caitlin wasn’t bothering to stand still for the test, instead bolting ducking, rolling and diving in an insane non-pattern that showcased just how high and far an Exemplar 4 could actually jump, which was an impressive thing to watch. Seeing her friend able to do things that she could no longer take for granted Sandra felt a tiny stab of jealousy, which she quashed rapidly before tapping on the window and pointing at the tray of food in her hand.
Caitlin spotted her and grinned, then turned back to the machine that was so diligently trying to kill her with the redneck projectile of choice and stopped. The machine, of course, wasn’t interested in ending the exercise and spat yet another of the low-velocity resin balls at her. Caitlin spun and caught the ball on either end and used her momentum to alter its trajectory back where it came from and whipped it, with her own prodigious strength, back at her assailant, with predictable results. The crash and the toppling machinery were rather impressive.
Caitlin stepped out just as Doctor Polland rushed up. “What happened?”
“I think I broke the test.” Caitlin’s evil smirk punctuated the exasperated look on Polland’s face.
The good doctor simply shook his head and walked away swearing to himself.
“Miss Bardue, just how long have you been terrorizing Doctor Polland for?” Mrs. Dennon’s look was stern, almost like an angry grandmother until one realized she could knock over a city transit bus by bodychecking it.
Caitlin somehow looked disgustingly unapologetic. “About...” She counted on her fingers... “Three hours now. Ever since about ten minutes after Bladedancer’s Crash run.”
“Has it ever occurred to you that the medical profession at large is not your enemy?”
“Once, but then the fever broke.”
Sandra had to stifle a snicker, and a sarcastic comment of her own.
“Fine, but I had better not hear of any more property damage to Whateley’s testing facilities. If anything further is broken, I imagine detention will involve working for free to pay off the repair bill.” Sandra had the distinct sensation that the aging Brick instructor was tired of saying this, and a definite feeling of familiarity between the two, like this was a very old song and dance.
“Ok. No more broken stuff if I can avoid it. Scout’s honor.” Caitlin did the two-finger scout salute.
“Oh I know you were never a Scout, unless there’s a Psychopath Scout troupe somewhere.”
“There is! Wanna see my T-Shirt?”
Dennon rolled her eyes. “I’ll talk to you later Caitlin. But for now, your friend brings food, and she has an appointment to keep. I am really not looking forward to spring semester.”
Sandra looked at the teacher. “Why, what happens in Spring Semester?”
“I get to have this hellion cluttering up my combat class.” She pointed at the unrepentant girl who was eyeballing the food. “I expect you back at Arena ‘99 in no later than twenty minutes Diamondback.”
“Crap, it’s going to take me ten minutes just to get there.”
Dennon looked down and remembered the girl’s snake tail. “Thirty minutes then. But any later and you forfeit.”
Sandra nodded as the Brick teacher left, and the two girls sat down.
“Ten minutes? Come on Sandra, I know you can’t scoot around as fast as most people but you aren’t that slow.” Caitlin grinned.
“True.” The impish grin on Sandra’s face was made complete by the fangs. “So what’s this about you terrorizing Doc P?
“I... Hate... Going... To... See... The... Docs.”
“You realize I can understand a multisyllabic vocabulary, right?”
“Yeah, but I’m feeling rather monosyllabic and caveman-ish right now. If one more person asks me how something makes me feel I swear I’m going to scream.”
“How does that make you feel?”
Sandra quickly covered her ears as Caitlin let out a wild shriek that made her wonder if her friend had one of those voices that could shatter glass. When it ended she went back to talking like nothing happened.
“Feel better?”
“Much.”
“What the hell was that?” A much-beleaguered Doctor Polland rushed back into the area with a couple orderlies.
“Girl talk. We’re bonding.” Caitlin somehow managed to say it with a straight face.
Polland left with a few more choice epithets.
“Everhart, Get to Hawthorne, now. Palmer, Matthews and Raczinsky will meet you there. We got one of those blips for a split-second that match up the things the Wild Bunch have been shotgunning. I need eyes on at the site; Jericho and Razorback are En Route.” Delarose’s voice cracked over the com like a whip.
“Shit, roger that, Chief. ETA three minutes. The Monster Squad boys know what we’re up against?” Sam started running even as she spoke, unslinging the assault rifle and charging it even as she moved.
“Affirmative. The three of them will be there a few minutes after you. They have more gear to load.”
“Got it. I’ll try to get eyes-on as soon as I arrive.”
There were very few students out and about, thankfully, leaving her own breathing and the crunch of snow beneath her boots as the only sounds in Sam’s ears. The white, frosted eaves of Hawthorne Cottage were silent in the December day, and in a moment of cliché, Sam reflected that it was too quiet. That didn’t last long as a tearing sound coming through the snow and a cloud of white powder erupted from the direction of Twain as Razorback dug in with the claws on all fours, kicking up a cloud of snow as he braked his speed. He came up on his hind legs, chirped oddly and started sniffing at the air before turning to look right at Sam. Without a word he stalked right over to her and stood nearby, watching the area and waiting. He hadn’t bothered changing out of his shredded rocker kid clothing, which clung to him like a second skin from the wet cold.
“Well hello again Razorback.” Sam cradled the rifle under one arm, and noting that Hive clocked the dinosaurian boy at approximately 103 MPH as he approached.
Razorback nodded to Sam, chirped and started off, circling Twain at an easy lope, which put him at speeds well beyond what Sam herself was capable of.
“Hive access security sensors in the area and give me a rundown on what we got here.”
Processing. Hive detects fifteen students, Mrs. Cantrell and FUBAR in the immediate area inside and around Hawthorne.
“Extend search outwards to one thousand yards in all directions.”
Processing. Hive detects two students and one unknown life sign in the range specified. One student is performing a circular sweep of the area while the other is heading directly towards our position. Unknown life sign is not moving and is approximately three degrees east-north-east of Hawthorne Cottage. Range is six hundred yards.
“Display overlay, and alert me when Jericho and the Monster Squad arrives.”
Affirmative. Jericho is approximately five hundred yards away and approaching at seven miles per hour.
The map overlay helpfully appeared in her vision, out of her main view. Three green blips marking her, Razorback and Jericho were outside while a small cluster of amber blips remained inside Hawthorne. One dull red marker showed where her target was skulking in the trees a ways off.
As she waited for backup, she heard a slow, steady crump of snow as Jericho polished off the distance between Twain and Hawthorne, wearing a blue EMT uniform with heavy rucksack rather than his usual gouge-your-own-eyes-out regalia. A metal harness was strapped with an assortment of power relays and odd devises and gadgets. Cradled in his hands was a worrisome piece of hardware, a heavy gun with a two-inch wide barrel, which looked like some sort of pump-action rig.
“I’m here,” Jericho said between heavy breaths from the exertion of running through the snow, “Where’s the bad guys?”
“Nice timing. Razorback seems to be doing a patrol sweep.”
“Is he acting crazy, like he’s going to randomly tear someone apart?”
“Not that I noticed, but then I don’t know him very well.”
Jericho nodded. “Trust me, you’d know.” He pressed a finger to the device wrapped around his right ear. “Razorback, regroup with me at Hawthorne. Let’s do this the right way.”
An answering shriek called out from somewhere behind Hawthorne moments before Razorback came tearing back around the building to meet up with them. As he slowed to approach Jericho tossed the lizard kid a syringe of something, which was promptly injected into his shoulder.
“What was that?” Sam pointed at the now-empty syringe.
“That? Just a core temperature stabilizer Razor needs during cold weather. He’s cold-blooded. Without that stuff this chill could kill him.”
“Oh. So why were you asking about him being all crazed then?”
Razorback’s hands danced in the Sign language. Jericho nodded as Hive translated the signs to words.
-I’m not smelling, or sensing anything out here. I think we might have a sensor glitch.-
“Every time these Voodoo-Wolves have shown up, Razor goes on edge and ready to rampage even before we see them. Once they get close enough we’ll know, because we’ll have about three seconds to react before he starts ripping.”
“I prefer a bit more disciplined response if we can muster it.” Sam didn’t like the idea of Razorback going loose cannon.
“So would I, but I’ve seen the results when he gets rolling. If there are less than ten of them out there, and they come near him they’re dog chow.”
“And if there’s more of them?”
Jericho grinned as he hefted the huge monstrosity of a cannon. “Then I just have to thin ‘em out a bit.”
Sam looked at the gun critically. “What the hell is that thing?”
“Core Ejector, a Slapdash special. I picked it up from him a couple weeks ago as a trade on some gear. I was intending to trade it off for something more usable. Now I’m glad I kept it. It’s actually a lot lighter than it looks, and it only kicks like Mule.”
Sam nodded as she kicked in the radio frequency. “Chief I have Jericho and Razorback here. Where’s the Monster Squad?”
“Hold position, The buggy’s acting up. Looks like someone went off-roading and didn’t bother to report some damage.”
“Typical.” Jericho snorted as he ran a cord from the harness of his chest and plugged it into the back of his skull. “Chief we have eyes on, request permission to... MOTHER FUCKER!”
“What is it?” Sam looked at the boy sharply.
“What is it Jericho?” Delarose sounded calm, oddly.
Jericho brought the monstrosity of a firearm up to his shoulder. “Chief check for damaged sensors. There’s five of them out there, if not the Voodoos then something pinging on my bad shit-o-meter.”
“Can you handle it?”
“If it’s voodoos? Easy. Razorback can clean out that many of them in a couple minutes.”
“Get a visual and engage at your discretion. Everhart, give ‘em fire support. They’re our resident experts at the moment.”
“Check Chief.” She turned to the boys. “I have point, Jericho you’re in the middle. Razorback covers our rears in case anything comes up behind us.” Sam didn’t even bother commenting on the idea of a blind kid with a gun. She was already well aware of the fact that Jericho was fully capable of perceiving the world around him from his file and the debriefings on the Voodoo-Wolves.
Both boys nodded as Sam began moving forward. Jericho and Razorback exchanged odd looks.
As they entered the trees within a hundred yards five places erupted in a cloud of snow and fleeing forms as the five Voodoo-Wolves bolted from their positions away from the three patrollers. Sam noted that the five were moving fast and would pass outside the Whateley sensor net in a matter of a few minutes. She wasn’t able to get a good look at any of them, just blurs of motion blocked by trees.
“Okay, that was fucking weird.” Jericho didn’t seem to watch much of anything as Razorback nodded.
-They were here, but I couldn’t sense or smell them.-
Sam looked at the two boys. “Did they ever run away before?”
“Not from us. A bunch ran away from Bunker and Mule when the two of ‘em started breaking them on Range 4, but no, I never seen ‘em just run without trying to fight.”
A quick search of the area turned up a set of abandoned binoculars and a camera.
Sam got on the radio once more. “Chief we just had five hostiles break and run without engaging. We’ve recovered a set of binocs and a camera. And the boys are telling me these things have found a way to spoof Razorback’s senses.”
“Not good, do a patrol sweep, and then send the boys back. I got Bunker and Chaka up on the blotter next for response, just in case.”
“Roger that, Everhart out.” She looked at the camera. “And while we’re at it, let’s see just what’s on this film, shall we?”
The two boys made it back to the arena just in time. Diamondback’s call on their com system the Outcasts shared had alerted them to the fact that her Battle Royale would be taking place shortly. Unfortunately Caitlin wouldn’t be there. The Powers Lab rats had her for the foreseeable future. Since Diamondback and Caitlin were indisposed, and the Underdogs and Fury twins were all at their campus jobs for the moment, Jericho and Razorback decided to invade the Kimba Zone by the simple expedient of jumping over the seats and moving down towards them, row by row after they entered the building.
It would have been simple had the boys just used the aisle. Unfortunately they took the opportunity to invade the spaces of as many teams as they possibly could. They made it to the Kimbas to the sounds of outraged students yelling threats and invective at them. All of the Poe kids looked over as the two boys made themselves known. A quick glance showed that the Arena was still being reset after the last bout.
“Ya know I dunno what their problem is, Razor, I mean it’s not like I spilled all the popcorn.” Jericho smirked as the Kimbazoids shook their heads.
-I think it was the bag of Hot Tamales you confiscated for the safety of the students around them.-
Toni rolled her eyes. “You two are classic you know that? Anyone else would have used the nice, non-obnoxious walkway.”
“Anyone except you, oh Martial-artist of the bounciness. I do believe it was you who ran across several students’ heads in the rush to get to her Combat Final and whup some ass?” Jericho’s grin was infectious.
Toni tried to look innocent. Needless to say, it failed to work on anyone.
-Where’s Tennyo?-
Nikki smiled. “Hey Razorback, Tennyo’s back at Poe, helping Mrs. Horton with some labor work. Hank too.”
“I thought I smelled a distinct lack of testosterone here,” Jericho began. “I guess me and Razorback will have to make up for it.”
“How kind of you.”
-We aim to please.-
“Why do I get the feeling you two are out to drive the world nuts around you?” Chou asked lightly.
“SHHH!” Jericho put a finger to his lips. “You want to reveal the master plan to everyone?”
“Well your wardrobe is a good start for that.”
“My wardrobe is scientifically calculated to be on the cutting edge of fashion!”
Nikki smirked. “Cutting edge huh? Watch your wrists girls, he’s dangerous.”
“Nobody understands me.”
-Hey Nerdboy! Looks like one of the teachers is taking the stand!-
“Oh ok.”
The mixed knot of kids looked over and saw Wilson, in full Ranger battle dress step out to the podium. Down below Diamondback and Hekate entered the arena side-by-side, looking wildly uncomfortable with each others’ presence. Diamondback wore the flowing, Blood-red robe and deathmask she wore in the sims and Hekate sported a rich robe of purple with golden trim and an odd wingtipped mask that made them look like hero and villain. With the roles reversed in the minds of the Outcasts and Kimbas.
“Welcome to the Final Crash test of the day, Ladies and Gentlemen. For those of you who do not know me, I am Staff Sergeant Ryan Wilson. I teach on the gun ranges here at Whateley with Gunny Bardue, who most of you know.” There was no hint or trace of Wilson’s slacker bum demeanor as he spoke. “In battles between Mutants, or even battlefield combat among baselines, you rapidly begin to realize that nothing is ever quite what it seems. Sometimes allies become enemies, and even the bitterest opponents must sometimes be accommodated in order to win all. For our Next Crash I give you Hekate and Diamondback.”
The MID cards helpfully displayed for the two girls in the monitors above.
Code Name: |
HEKATE |
Ratings:: |
Exemplar 3, WIZ 3, PSI 3 |
Techniques: |
Fireball, Telepathic Sweep, Stunner, Shadow Step |
Weak vs.: |
Unknown |
Backup/Team affiliation: |
Alphas |
Code Name: |
DIAMONDBACK |
Ratings:: |
Exemplar 4, Esper 2, Wiz 1, GSD (Severe) |
Techniques: |
Constrictor, Venomous bite, Venom-spitter, Distracting wave, Bogeyman, Doppleganger, Healing Hands |
Weak vs.: |
Unknown |
Backup/Team affiliation: |
Outcast Corner |
“As always the objective is the spindle, but in order to do that, they must overcome a mutual adversary, and only one can win. And now, I give you their opponents, the Dragonslayers.” As Wilson stepped back, a list of seven simple Codenames, no MID’s flashed on the screen.
Jericho jerked and looked at the others’ worriedly. “Please tell me he did not just say Dragonslayers.”
“Ya... He did.” Jericho wasn’t able to see the suddenly ashen expressions on the other kids’ faces when Nikki spoke. For once, mercifully, neither he nor Jack had anything smartass to say.
The Bogeymen were coming to Whateley.
Deep within the bowels of Arena 99 seven specialized ANTS bots, highly modified from the originals with a better A.I. simulation than most of the static opponents and bystanders the children would face normally powered up, and moved to collect weapons and ammunition. The skeletal robots flickered as the holographic imagers kicked in and soon Hook, Devil’s Envoy, Major Screwup, House Arrest, Hacker, Slacker and Slamjack walked in old-style city camoflage to the staging ground where their programming kicked in, and the robotic attackers bolted into cover, moving from building to building by alleyways, by sewer and skyline, out of view of the normal “people” milling about the constructed Chi-Town cityscape.
Each of the robots was heavily modified to be able to fully mimic the human range of motion, and all were rated to match a low-to-mid range exemplar three, considered the upper limits of human development. Each one had its strengths, and weaknesses. One was more agile than the others, one was a bit more hardened against damage, one was stronger, one was smarter, and two of them had linked senses so each could operate with the other’s data. All in all, even though the forces arrayed represented mere baselines, even the seniors and most of the staff had to admit that facing Whateley Academy’s mock-up of the mutant world’s most hated conspiracy theory was among the most nightmarish scenarios to face alone, to be surpassed only by things like the Mob Assault scenario, or the scenarios involving opponents with the power and personality of such psychopathic greats like Deathlist.
“So what the hell are we up against?” Diamondback muttered to herself crossly.
“How should I know? It’s not like I planned this.” Hekate’s aloof demeanor was unwelcome and unasked.
“That was a rhetorical question. And I wasn’t asking you.”
“Then who were you asking?”
“Nunya. Let’s just get this over with. I don’t want to be anywhere near you anymore than the reverse is true.” Diamondback’s voice held very real rancor as she read Hekate’s emotions. There was no doubt in her mind that this was going to be an exercise in backstabbery. Hekate was notorious for double-crossing people when they hadn’t come up with some kind of “favorable” arrangement beforehand.
“There’s something I can agree with, freak.”
Diamondback smiled behind the bone-white skull mask and tightened her shields as she felt Hekate’s mind probing at hers. Oh no you don’t, bitch. I’m not giving up my tricks that easily.
Sandra slithered to the side and pulled a satchel out and removed three candles and a deck of cards. A quick check revealed that the enchantments she’d laid were strong on the tarot she had brought with her, not for divination, but as a focus. She ignored Hekate as she withdrew the Queen of Wands and the Emperor from the deck and brushed away the weaves she’d placed before. Unlike most students of magic who put spells into each card, or coin or whatever they chose as a focus, Sandra had placed spell elements into each one, forming an incomplete spell until she laid them in the proper order.
Sure, she could channel raw magic like some, like Hekate or Fey, but compared to any of the WIZ students she was pitifully slow, and the draw took way too long. She couldn’t just rip the energy from her surroundings and fling it with abandon. She had to work for it. Fortunately she was so far ahead of her Freshman magic class that she could utilize more advanced concepts, some of which she had learned from She-Beast in exchange for a little grunt work a few weeks back.
“What are you doing?”
Sandra hissed as she set up the candles and began rapid-drawing the cards and setting them up in a classic world spread with the Queen of Wands, representing her, and the Empress, Representing Hekate went into the center. She hissed out a poem she and her brother had made up during their tenure at a small coven of Wiccans before her change as she did so. As she did so the words and cards wrapped around her will, forming the core of the one major spell she would cast during the combat final.
“Broken Mirrors, Shattered Dreams,
Never be the way it seems.
Call to Mother, hold me tight
Always fear the touch of night.
Deception reigns as shadows fall,
Hear me allies, heed my call.
My light rests now, my fear runs deep
So let my fear to thy hearts creep.
Break the boundary, Smash it down
We see the king wearing his crown.
We understand you wish us ill,
Our touch carries the Winter’s Chill.
Hungering to feel your dreams,
Hear us whisper, hear you scream.
It’s getting dark, sire you must see,
My mind grows numb.
We come for thee.”
“Oh... My god, what did you do?” Hekate was flabbergasted as the power, raw and unfettered, erupted from the spread of cards, and infused her. It was like being in the immediate vicinity of Fey tearing off one of her insanely powerful spells when they went right.
Diamondback spun and hissed at Hekate. “Shut up and get ready to fight.” The tone and inflections weren’t Diamond, and her mind had shifted subtly, as though someone other than the meek and shy snake-girl she loved to mock as though she was just out of earshot was in control now. “The spell is powerful and it will protect us, but it won’t last long. Now get ready!”
Hekate was shocked, and most certainly angry. Not only was this upstart freak barking at her like she was a dog, but she’d managed to spin together the elements of a spell complex enough that she couldn’t simply look at it and follow the flows to determine exactly what it did. As she began forming her defenses she studied it until she found the weak spot.
It was a simple mistake, one that could be expected of any first year student. The cards at the center were bound, with Diamondback’s card on top, thus she was the primary beneficiary. But she hadn’t locked the spell in fully. The cards could be shifted without Diamondback knowing. As the snake-girl began slithering towards the spindle warily, Hekate simply used her abilities to cause the cards to flip places and locked them into the spell, completing the circuit. Now she would be the primary beneficiary of the spell as the landscape of the Chi-town business district darkened and took on an unhallowed feel, shadows moving unnaturally as the civilian pedestrians panicked and scattered in the wake of the two obvious mutants as they walked towards the center of the arena.
“What the fuck did that bitch just do?” Jericho’s voice was enraged as he used his laptop to hijack the arena cameras and watched the switch through his brainjack uplink.
Razorback shrieked his disapproval as he watched the cityscape below darken and shift to match the dark horror-swept nightmarescape the Outcasts loved to use to unnerve their opponents in the sims.
Nikki’s eyes narrowed. “Diamondback just did a very complex spell. I can’t tell what it is without getting closer, but Hekate just altered it somehow, linking it to herself rather than your friend.”
“Oh HELL NO!” Jericho snarled like a maniac. He was halfway out of his seat when Razorback pushed him down and signed at him.
“He’s right,” Nikki said as the blind boy snarled back. “What goes in the sims, stays in the sims, Jericho. All we can do is watch and hope Diamondback can overcome this on her own.”
Toni looked critically at Diamondback. “You know, I sure as hell wouldn’t turn my back on Hekate.”
Razor chirped once and signed.
Jericho nodded. “Fine, you’re right. Sandra’s not going to be that easy to drag down. Dammit! First the Dragonslayers shit and now this!”
“Hey man it sucks rocks, but what can ya do?” Toni shrugged. “I admit, the thought of your heavy GSD friend knocking the stuffing out of the Queen of Shit down there appeals to me on multiple levels, but it doesn’t look like it’s in the cards right now.”
“Hey! Shut up! I spotted the Dragonslayer guys.” Chou waved at them as she spoke. “They’re flanking and... Oh, there are seven of them. Anyone know what these bastards are capable of?”
“I dunno, I heard they’re a pack of H1’s,” Chou said.
Jericho shook his head. “No, well maybe Humanity First! but I looked at these guys when I started showing up Devisor. I had nightmares about guys in black jumpsuits bum rushing me and shooting me. All the reports are contradictory, and by all indications they shouldn’t exist.”
“That’s because they don’t exist, Frosh.” Beltane walked down and settled in. “What you’re looking at is Whateley’s simulator scenario of the Dragonslayers. I assume that this is where the rumors came from.”
“They’re just sims? I thought there weren’t any holoprojectors in the arena.” Jericho looked a bit relieved, as did the other girls, save Razorback, who looked amused. “You bastard, you knew they aren’t real?”
Razorback nodded gleefully.
“Oh man, we’ve been had by a lizard!” Toni said, amused.
Belle nodded. “So it seems. But those are robots, not people. But that doesn’t change the fact that Hekate and your friend are in for a rough time of it. I think there are maybe three students on campus that can beat that scenario. Stormwolf is not one of them.”
“Oh wow.” Chou said. “Think we’ll see that scenario?”
“Maybe,” Belle smirked, “That all depends on how cocky you lot are, and how good you get.”
Hekate rode the wave of power suffusing her as Diamondback jerked aside too fast for her eyes to track, avoiding a bullet whipping through the space her chest had just occupied. The Snake-girl clicked two bracelets together and drew them along one another and whipped her arms apart, causing a wave of brilliant green energy to rip forward and shear the truck the man in urban digital cammies was behind in half. Hekate added to the mix, firing a force blast at the man that threw him aside like a rag doll. The man hit the wall and bounced, then jumped up and bolted, running away and down an alleyway.
Diamondback moved to pursue, but Hekate had recognized the uniform and face. She’d need Diamondback alive and healthy to win, even with her newfound power. “Don’t chase! That’s Hook! He’s leading into an ambush! Follow me!”
“How do you know that?”
“We’re up against the Dragonslayer simulation! That’s Hook, as in ‘worm on a...’ he’s their bait man!” Hekate didn’t waste any more time on the fleeing human, instead diving into an alley of her own. Thankfully Diamondback did the smart thing and followed.
“How do you know about them?”
“I had to do this simulation earlier this year, they never do teams for this, its individual grade, and it’s brutal as hell. I don’t have time to explain so stay with me and follow my lead!”
“How did you win?”
“I didn’t, they took me down in four minutes. Now MOVE!”
The two girls flung themselves aside as the thunder of gunfire erupted behind them and bullets began shredding the landscape. A loud CLACK! sounded as something round and metallic hit the concrete nearby. Both girls threw up hasty mystic barriers as the grenade exploded almost in their faces. Then the tracers began raining from above as two machineguns belched bullets and noise from rooftops across the street at them. They were barely away and around the corner when the rocket exploded and shredded the cover they had been behind scant seconds before. Some of the shrapnel had penetrated, and the girls sported small, bloody gashes as they fled. Four fast-moving humans bombed out of the alleyway behind them and opened fire at them with insane coordination, forcing them to dive behind more cover in the face of the aggressive assault.
Caitlin was backed into a corner behind the exam table, with her harvester in hand. “No fucking way I’m getting on that goddamned table!”
Doc Polland held up his hands disarmingly and tried to speak in a calm and level tone. “Caitlin we have to do the exam. We need to make sure everything’s...”
“FUCK NO!” Caitlin hadn’t realized just how much the idea of sitting down and having a doctor examine her “down below” would shake her up. She thought she’d been getting used to being female, but the sight of the table and the speculum and other tools had brought on the full realization of just how real this whole situation really was. That knowledge had brought with it a full-blown panic attack, as she’d always thought of a physical as “Turn your head and cough.” This was far more invasive and the thought of someone prodding inside of her made her absolutely ill. She felt in no way ready to face this final reality check that would pronounce her change loud and in stereo to God and Creation.
Polland tried to appear disarming, as he faced off with a girl who probably would kill both him and the two orderlies if they pushed her too hard. Her aura was flashing and sparking like a dynamo in her agitation, even in the double-layer of wards on her clothing and the temporary runes on the walls which were glowing an angry red color.
She hadn’t been much better as a man, and certain aspects of the medical world had set her off like a nuke even before the change, and he was rapidly recognizing that glazed look of fear in her eyes that mirrored her old life. Corporal Mahren had been arguably one of the most stoic, bull-headed and fearless men Polland had ever known, but even men like that had their fears. Apparently he’d just hit one that Caitlin wasn’t even aware of herself.
Security officers pounded down the hall in full battle dress with Sam Everhart in the lead. The call had come from Medical when Caitlin had gone off the deep end. She met one of the nurses in the hallway, and the young man pointed. “She’s gone bugshit. I dunno what’s up, but Doc P. brought her into the exam room and she had an absolute shit fit!”
Sam peeked through the door and sighed. “Not her again.” The comment was carried away as the Security mugs moved into position on either side of the door.
“Why didn’t you tranq her?” Sam looked at the nurse with an exasperated eye.
“I did. Used the tranq gun, because she was hysterical.” The nurse just shook his head. “Didn’t even faze her. She yanked the dart and threw it at me.”
“Doc Polland, would you please come out here? Bring your men with you.” Sam shouted.
After a few tense moments Doc Polland and the orderlies slid warily out of the room, and the door slammed as Caitlin darted forward and kicked it shut with a thunderous SLAM! The doorframe buckled and cracked a bit with the force.
“Just what the hell is going on here, doc?”
“Everything was going just fine with this girl’s powers testing until we got to the physical exam. I wasn’t expecting her to react so strongly to the idea.” Polland looked tired.
“Let me guess, she flipped when you told her she had to do the physical.”
“Flipped is a bit of an understatement. Closer to a psychotic episode.”
“Shit. Doc, who dealt with her medical business before?”
“No one. She’s...” He stopped as Sam held up a finger to forestall him, and then turned to the nurse and orderlies.
“You three. Out.” Her voice held the note of command. She turned to the Third Platoon security team that had accompanied her. “Back to Kane. This can be handled without you.”
“But the Lieutenant said...”
“The Lieutenant’s not here. Get lost or I’m going in there and telling that girl you still haven’t found the Uzi and MP-5 that went missing. That’ll calm her down about the physical right quick, and I’ll let her have it out with you.”
“Uh, right. We’ll get to that.”
“You do that.”
When the Security boys and medical staff had cleared out, Sam turned to Doc Polland. “All right Doc, don’t screw with me. I know who she is, and who she WAS, better than you do in fact. Now I ask again. Who was her primary doctor before she changed?”
Doctor Polland sighed. “Ophelia, Doctor Tenant. She was the only person who could get Mahren to sit still long enough to get things done without him going psycho. Or if McQuiston was still here she’d probably stay calm.”
Sam rolled her eyes. “Ye well, McQuiston’s a bit busy taking a dirt nap, so that would leave Ophelia, now wouldn’t it?”
Polland nodded. “Problem is she’s not here. Today’s her off-day, and she’s not one I like to call in randomly, she and Raul don’t get much time to themselves, and she does far too much here already.”
“Is she apprised of Caitlin’s situation?”
“No. Ophelia’s not party to that bit of knowledge. She just knows that Caitlin is a troubled girl with massive control issues.”
Sam took a deep breath. “Ok doc, lemme break it down to you, shotgun style. That girl in there’s worked for me before, and I know her. She does not react well to medical types and she’s been caught and... Interrogated vigorously in the past, get my meaning?” Doctor Polland nodded, somewhat shocked. “She doesn’t trust doctors and she hates psychologists. Now if you have one doc who’s got her trust I suggest that you get them in here to deal with her, because you’re looking at a full-blown phobia here, one that’s gotten her into a lot of trouble before. Let’s minimize this as much as we can and get on with it. So call Ophelia, fill her in, and get her here!”
Polland nodded and walked away as Sam sighed and looked at the door. It was going to be one of those days. She steeled herself for the screaming and opened the door, jerking it out of the mauled doorjamb and pushing it aside. She met the steely-eyed gaze of Caitlin, not the upset, and touchy girl from before, but the hard-eyed gaze of an angry face from memory. She shut the door gingerly, pulled up a chair and sat down, rubbing her temples.
“Caitlin I thought we’d gone over this. You need to calm down.”
“I know.” Caitlin snarled.
“I hate to break it to you girl, but you and me are both looking at this for the rest of our lives.”
“I know!” The retort was loud and angry, with real heat.
“Then why the hell are you fighting it?”
Caitlin just stood there, glowering for a moment, then sat down with an unladylike grunt.
“Well?” Sam asked.
“Well what?”
“Don’t pull this shit with me.” Sam looked her dead in the eye. The girl locked her gaze and held it angrily. “Why are you fighting it? A few hours ago you said being female was the least of your worries, that if it was your only problem you’d be thrilled. What’s the problem?”
“I don’t know! I thought I had a handle on this, but then I came here for testing then they dragged me in here.... and it was like...” Caitlin shuddered and shoved the wheeled cart with the exam tools away from her, causing it to bang off the wall. “The thought of someone prodding at me there just made me want to shoot myself, or them. I wasn’t sure which.”
“Ever thought of shooting yourself before?”
“Dozens of times, but I keep losing the thought after a few seconds because I can’t make sense of the idea of suicide. It doesn’t click up here so well.” Caitlin pointed at her head. “Not that I think that’s a bad thing. I don’t think I want to understand it.”
Sam snorted. “Well at least I don’t have to put you on watch. But seriously, Caitlin, you need to calm down. Ignoring the problem isn’t going to make it simply disappear in a puff of smoke.”
“I don’t know what the hell else to do about it. I can’t undo it, can’t change back. Hell I can’t even sort out my damned memories.”
“So what, you’re just going to gut it out and not think about it?” Sam looked disbelievingly as Caitlin let out a sullen nod. “Jesus this isn’t a twenty mile hike that you can just push through. It’s not a fight you can just fall back to training and experience to beat, Caitlin.”
Caitlin just slumped. “What should I do about it, Everhart? Over the last month and a half my life’s been blown straight to hell with a depth charge. Granted it wasn’t much of a life, but I finally had something good going on here at Whateley.”
“What was that?”
Caitlin let a twisted, rueful smirk enter her features. “Teaching kids to survive against assholes like me. I had a job; I had a place where I wasn’t on the blotter or on the firing line. I had Cat, who I was ready to spend the rest of my life with. Now I feel like I’m back on the pointy edge of the spoon.”
“Ok, we’ll talk about this later, but for now we’ve got Doctor Tenant on her way, you think you can hold it together for her?”
“Maybe. I think so. I’m not sure.”
“We’re about to find out.”
Hekate swore furiously as the explosions continued to erupt around the two of them. Apparently some smartass had decided that giving the seven loony Dragonslayer combat wombats artillery to play with was a good idea. The eruptions continued to thunder around them as they hunkered down in a crater. The seven madmen were moving and sporadically pouring fire into their position. Several holes had been blown into the pavement, exposing the sewers below.
She leaned up and took a quick glance, only to jerk it back down as bullets tore up dirt and asphalt around her. She hated this. It was like reliving a bad dream. Last time she’d gone up against the Dragonslayer scenario she’d been confident at her ability to simply crush the baselines arrayed against her. They’d shredded her in far less than the four minutes she’d claimed to Diamondback.
“Diamondback there’s a bad guy with a radio! He’s probably the one calling for the artillery! We need to take him down but I’m pinned!”
The skull-masked snake-girl nodded and darted up for a look before ducking down again, too quick for the soldiers to react. She began hissing out something under her breath again and Hekate felt her drawing in power and channeling it to those bracelets she’d apparently stacked for attacks and drew them together, and sliding them along each other to channel as she snapped upright and released the energy. Hekate risked a look and saw the emerald wave shear out across the blasted cityscape and tear the man in two, along with his radio.
Hekate reared up and drew in that lovely wash of power from her stolen spell and sent a fireball shrieking down the devastated city street as the air seemed to shimmer and darken. Shadows erupted into motion, seeming to charge as Diamondback’s spell entered its final stage, and the city itself seemed to raise itself to strike at the attackers. Gunfire erupted as she slammed a barrier in front of her, drawing in a suddenly exhilarating level of power as she charged, drunk with raw power. The earth split and tried to draw in the attackers, the shadows clung to them, dragging at their heels and slowing them down.
They still came. Grenades flew, tearing her barrier to shreds, and she narrowly dodged a rocket fired from a storefront. With a snarl she channeled lightning and sent the bolt shrieking into the building where it bounced and arced and played merry hell with the person inside. The scream was gratifying as the second Dragonslayer died.
Diamondback smiled as she watched Hekate tear back, for once throwing the Dragonslayers into disarray. As she prepared to move and do her part she smiled and drew one last tarot card and kissed it before setting the Fool down and binding it to the spell she’d wrought. She moved with purpose, sliding into the sewer, exposed by one of the blasts.
Nikki was trying desperately to see the sudden turnaround that her friends were crowing about. Sure, she’d seen the two Dragonslayers go down, but where were the fires? Where were the rents tearing themselves into the ground, the shadows and darkness? All she saw was a blasted landscape that clearly spelled out just how hard it was to take down some mutants as Hekate and Diamondback desperately tried to fend off the Dragonslayer assault.
The Dragonslayers were horrifically aggressive, going well beyond the reactions of any normal baseline humans she’d ever met. Most wouldn’t have stood before Hekate confidently, much less Diamondback, who looked like a monster. And the attack patterns were disturbingly effective. Neither she, nor Aunghadhail had ever seen anything like the furious assault placed before her. She doubted very much that she could have stood under that barrage, knowing as little of what they were about as she did.
Razorback was practically vibrating with excitement. He’s silently but vehemently described in detail what he’d do to any real Dragonslayers who came after him. It wasn’t pretty, but it mimicked the attitude of most of the kids nearby. Nikki silently promised herself that if she ever met the real thing alone, she’d run. Screw trying to fight the insane, it was pointless and likely to get one killed. And everything she saw pointed to one thing. These Dragonslayers in the Sims were stark, raving mad.
The other Kimbas and Outcasts watched with rapt fascination as Diamondback erupted from a manhole and started laying into the two Dragonslayers that hadn’t expected her. The humans, even as capable as they were, could not cope with an enraged, exemplar-snake-thing up close and personal as she threw one negligently into a wall. As he tried to crawl away she fired a series of punches at his compatriot in a rapid-fire blur that was impossible to follow. The result wasn’t pretty. The man seemed to explode in a shower of blood and broken bits.
Another Dragonslayer was coping with what looked like two Earthen Elementals that tore themselves from the surrounding buildings and wreckage. One Elemental went down as a rocket hit it and blew it to so much rock and sand. The remaining two Dragonslayers were pinning Hekate down, darting back and forth seemingly randomly, while firing on the run. The Alpha girl was wildly whipping lightning bolts, fire and fury at the two men as they avoided her onslaught, sometimes narrowly.
Nikki saw none of this. She saw shadows and dust. The two men that had been attacked by Diamondback she simply saw fall over. The one fending off the elementals simply fired the rocket launcher into empty space, to detonate on the protective shield that separated the arena from the spectators. And she saw Hekate... She smiled, and then began tracking back to the point where Diamondback had cast the spell and her jaw dropped a bit at the sheer complexity and utter genius of it. She smiled wide and leaned back into her chair, considering.
“Jericho, remind me never to piss Diamondback off.”
“Huh?”
Hekate was getting angry. The two lunatics that had been bouncing bullets off of her hasty barriers and dodging her own attacks were like a pair of lunatic pinballs bouncing from place to place. Diamondback’s spell seemed unreal, the amount of power it had charged, the chaos and sheer insanity it provoked. That it had been done by a mere freshman was simply unacceptable and galling. That it had been done by one of those unsightly freaks from Whitman made it even less so. Once she was done, she fully intended to find a way to rip the secrets of the casting from the girl by any means necessary.
One of the harassers fell victim to the random reality warping that accompanied the rest of the chaos. His boot got caught in a small fissure and the asphalt seized it and sealed around the foot. Hekate wasted no time with him, flinging a small, red ball of energy that struck him in the chest, burning through him and causing him to vanish in a burst of red light and glittering motes of loose matter until the disintegration spell consumed even that. She smiled to herself and began to turn when she felt the impact of a bullet in her shoulder before she heard it. The body armor woven under her flowing costume stopped it, but she felt her collarbone crack in a searing burst of agony. She dropped to her knees and saw her vision waver and reality lurched.
Without warning she was exhausted, the surge of energy gone without a trace, leaving her bone-deep weary and mentally drained. The shadows vanished, the elemental rippled and faded. The rents and warps in stone and earth smoothed out and faded as the Dragonslayers looked around, confused for a moment. The ones Diamond had torn apart up close jerked and stood abruptly, unhurt as the massive illusion the snake-girl had woven faded. An illusion of Diamondback slithering up behind one of the Dragonslayers flickered and faded away, but not before it looked at Hekate and presented the one-finger salute.
She’d been tricked. That damned serpent-girl had tricked her! All this time, that feeling of power had caused her to burn her own energy at an insane rate, and left her wounded, exhausted, and incapable of focusing for a single spell, much less her own psychic ability. She was barely able to hold herself up as the four Dragonslayers walked up. SlamJack upholstered a pistol and leveled it with her face as the gong sounded, signaling that the spindle had been successfully used. The four Dragonslayers froze in place, unmoving statues, and she simply stared at their troubled, but determined expressions until someone arrived to assist her off the Arena floor.
Diamondback smiled from her place by the spindle and slithered away towards the exit. All in all it was a good day when you could count on your enemies to betray you properly.
Monday, December 12th, 2006
"Doctor Bellows, it's Polland. I'm going over some of Caitlin Bardue's test results and was wondering if you could drop by to talk." Polland looked over at the blessedly quiet room that Ophelia had entered with her usual serene expression, save for a hardness of the eyes that bespoke a promise of death for a certain repeat problem patient of hers. "Yes, here in the next few minutes would be ideal thanks. I want to get this over with as quickly as possible. This girl is a nightmare to deal with. Yes, she's as bellicose as ever, even with... Get down here. I just saw some scanner logs. We have to redo her scans ASAP."
Polland clicked off the telephone and looked at the computer screen. Besides the obvious physical exam, which seemed to be actually going right, none of Caitlin's scan tests or tissue samples had been readily tested. The scans all appeared as though someone had placed a lead sheet between her body and the offending piece of medical equipment. The tissue samples taken had all arced with odd green energy and exploded within moments of being separated from her body, causing all manner of minor havoc in the testing area.
It was bad enough that she was uncooperative and deliberately obstructive, but now it seemed her very body was as well.
He pulled up the scanner file again and sighed. The MRI had gotten no penetration into the girl's body, or the dye used to track everything had failed to take, one of the two. Her Xavier test scores were well within line with what Mahren had shown before his unexpected blitz to the fairer sex. At a 136 IQ once certain psychological issues were taken into account, Caitlin Bardue's intelligence was respectable, if hardly phenomenal for the Academy student body. Unlike most exemplars, she had not seemed to receive any of the usual mental abilities with her transformation. Her physical capabilities had shot through the roof, and were stable well within the mid-high exemplar-four norm. Her endurance and raw stamina were not, however.
As he went back over the raw physical data, the changes were pronounced. Once the docs had found ways to make the areas stable for her insane aura, they now had an accurate read on her physical capabilities. Her bench press weight had gone from her old human bench press weight of roughly 250 lbs. to approximately 1511 lbs. or about three quarters of a ton - once the sudden random destruction factor was eliminated from the testing. Her reflexes had undergone the smallest boost, somewhere between Olympic athlete and greased lightning. Even though she was fast, she was still in line with other exemplar fours, and she had started as a man who had been the baseline equivalent of an exemplar two in strength and a three in reflexes and endurance.
The girl's endurance and stamina were off the charts. She'd admitted to not really having slept for any significant amount of time since the change, with one notable bout of wakefulness that lasted just under ninety-six hours, and only one hour of sleep, which she'd forced. Her strength was almost akin to a hydraulic press. Once she hit her max she just stopped and wasn't able to budge the bar, period, but as long as it was even a gram under said limit she was able to continue pressing it without any sign of fatigue or strain. She had shown that she was capable of running exactly 31.08 miles an hour and held that pace steady for thirty minutes without even breathing hard. Increasing the speed even slightly had resulted in her stumbling and being thrown from the treadmill, twice.
Doctor Polland was not interested in a third time after she had kicked the machine onto its side in a spitting rage. Caitlin's incredibly short temper with the medical profession hadn't been in evidence when she'd first changed, but then she was also somewhat in shock. He sighed and wished to return to that blissful time when she was too mentally drained to fight back. It wasn't like the medical staff at the Academy could come up with a realistic detention or punishment for a nearly thirty-year-old woman, trying to learn how to be female by being drop-kicked into the student body. The fact that she was PART of the student body told him there was more going on here than Carson was telling, and she was being protected from something.
All in all she was a bundle of contradictions. Her blood rapidly solidified into a blood-red metal that was definitively active mystically according to all the tests, and the tissue samples had hardened to a marble-like substance before detonating spectacularly in what some of the more mystically aware staff had dubbed 'mini mana storms.' Add to that her hair was definitely composed of black, metal filaments and her irises visibly and measurably heated when she got pissed. The glowing runic sigils in her irises were spectacular and a bit scary to see when she got angry.
Caitlin looked female, but didn't have any of the hormonal markers in her blood of such, what little they were able to analyze. She also reported that the drugs she had been taking to deal with certain issues, most notably Post-Traumatic Stress, weren't having any noticeable effect. The antipsychotics she had been taking were similarly deadened, making the fact that she had a particular variant of intermittent explosive disorder a nagging worry, for her and for him. He'd called Bellows to discuss that very fact. Figuring out whether or not Caitlin would be prone to another episode like she'd had on Halloween when she'd forgotten to refill her prescription would be a priority.
When Bellows arrived, he nodded to the other man and the two wandered over to the coffee pot. It was pretty much a given that this was going to be a long session. "So dealing with Caitlin has been something less than joyful?"
Polland sighed, "You don't know the half of it. I swear that Amazonian nightmare is the focal point for all of the hatred for the medical community in the world."
Dr. Bellows snorted. "Oh if you think she's bad now, you should try to get her into a counseling session. I chalk up her post-change cooperative streak to pure mental shock, both from the change, and from losing Backdraft."
"God, I miss Cat some days. Like right now. She was the only person who could make that walking ball of rage in there stay calm."
"Don't we both. But for now, what do you have for me? You don't normally call me down here unless you've got a weird one."
Polland nodded and handed a sheet over. "Caitlin in there's Zener card results. Out of five passes with the cards, she's hit zero correct answers. I did it before with her as Mahren right before the blowout, and he'd gotten a zero as well. I can write off one null result as a low-probability event given how many we do in a year, but five in a row?"
"I see." Bellows pondered for a moment. "Could be part of that mage/psychic theory you've been working on. Caitlin's heavily mage-oriented, and some mages do tend to zero out on that test unless they're also psychic or strongly empathic."
"Doesn't wash. Mahren wasn't heavily magic-oriented, and he still drew a null on that test. I even pulled up records of the few times we were able to get that lunatic to sit still for any kind of test, and he's always zeroed out. We never ran more than one pass with him, but I always assumed he was being his usual bull-headed, contrary self. This reminds me, we need to do a detailed purge of all our records pertaining to Mahren. I missed a few when Carson sent the order down."
"That could actually be a possibility here. What about that weird spirit-thing, the parasite?"
"Oh. THAT." Polland leaned back and dug through a file that seemed as thick as his arm. "We have no clue what the bloody thing is, and even Lodgeman's stumped. He's never seen anything like it. We just know that it's a possessor of some sort, it's probably the cause of Caitlin's change, ultimately, and it's trying to integrate itself with her totally. We can't get rid of it without killing her."
"Wonderful. How likely is it that's the cause of her lovely little result with the cards?" Bellows leaned against a counter and sipped at the coffee.
"Pretty likely, although Louis mentioned that she's got a real haywire shielding technique, memory association thing. Since she wasn't able to shield traditionally she sort of trained herself to have a defense. Poke the wrong memory and you get to relive the sensation of getting shot, or something equally unpleasant."
Bellows sighed and shook his head. "It would take a guy like Mahren to figure out how to turn his brain into a minefield for psychics."
"Yeah, and that's about the tip of the iceberg. If these scans are any indication, Caitlin might have the 6th worst case of internal GSD I have ever seen."
"How so?"
Polland leaned back and steepled his fingers. "I'm not finding any signs of organic life. Once Ophelia finishes the physical, I'm trucking the girl out to ARC for the deep scanner. She's pretty much showing all the indicators that her entire body is mineral-based. But I DO want to confirm it before I jump to conclusions."
"Getting her to go along with that might be a trick."
"Maybe I can con one of the devisors here to run a scan."
Bellows nodded. "Have you given any thought to having her examined by one of the mages? Grimes is pretty slick at that kind of thing."
"Grimes and Mahren never got along. It might just aggravate Caitlin even more."
Bellows got a predatory grin on his face. "And what could be a better payback for all the misery that girl has put us through over the years than locking the two of them in a room together?"
Polland considered for a moment. "I'll make the call."
Diamondback grinned as Razor and Jericho nearly tackled her with glee. Her smug, self-assured look was a far cry from the normally shy and subdued posture she held in public. The Grunts genuflecting and intoning "We're not worthy" over and over couldn't have helped deflate her ego much either.
"So how did the shakedown with Ito and Bardue go?" Jericho grinned as he asked.
"I got an A," she intoned in a singsong voice and did short, undulating dance that drew several sets of nearby eyes to her... interesting figure.
"Nice!" Jericho grinned and Razorback immediately did his traditional slamdance/air guitar victory dance.
"And I'm sure I have my first eternal enemy in Hekate, even though I doubt she'd be dumb enough to do anything about it."
"Yeah, after that whole deal with Folder, I imagine most fools are a bit reluctant to get too pissy about sim runs or arena fights."
The mood was broken somewhat as Bunker spotted her MMID card on the displays and bolted down towards the entrance to the arena cackling madly. Her team dispersed to go watch.
Diamondback took a deep breath and realized that besides the lunatic grins of her compatriots, there were wide smiles from a pack of girls she'd never expected to associate with on anything but an adversarial basis, as Team Kimba - or at least the ones who were there - walked up to meet the three of them. The emotions ranged from smug satisfaction to crazed glee.
Chaka was the one to approach first, and grinned wide. "Oh man you should have seen that bitch's face! That expression was priceless when she realized you tricked her!"
Diamondback was a bit taken aback at the response from the Kimba girls, she wasn't expecting the lot of them to blow off her appearance and cluster around her and her friends with grins on their faces. Well there was that Generator kid, who was putting on a brave front while casting nervous glances at both her and Razorback, but she could hardly blame the small child for being antsy around a pair of kids who looked monstrous, more so than most of the Faction Three kids. If Sandra had seen herself as a child she'd have panicked and run for the hills.
Fey was the odd one of the lot, concealing odd feelings of fascination with her even as she smiled. She'd been like that on Halloween as well when she was all decked out like a Gorgon. Diamond was lost in the upbeat emotional current when Jericho jarred her a little.
"Hey Diamond, you're zoning out again." The blind boy gave her a concerned look.
Sandra shook her head and looked at the Kimbas, “Sorry, I'm a bit zonked right now."
Fey, that maddeningly gorgeous redhead shook her head. "Hey no worries. After that little performance with Hekate I'd say you were a bit entitled to zoning out on occasion. Nice job, by the way. Couldn't have handled that dirty bitch better myself."
"Thanks." Diamondback nodded to Bladedancer, "And I got to say, that beating of Nex? Good work."
Chou smirked and nodded, trying not to move too quickly and rip her bandages. "Thanks. Let us just hope the trend continues and we all do as well."
The rest of the Kimbas clustered in to give their words of congratulations as the three Outcasts marveled at the friends they'd seemed to be making of late.
Phobos and Deimos, the notorious Fury Twins, were on their way back to the arena and noted Lancer, one of the Kimbas, was trudging along through the snow in about the same general direction. The two girls gave him a bit of a wide berth even though he nodded and gave a bit of a wave before continuing along. The two of them watched the rather cute boy as he walked with a purpose towards the Arena. They didn't know what to make of these Kimbas, but the rumors from Hawthorne were that the lot of them were GSD friendly. That didn't necessarily make them any more eager to wander up and say hi. Too many times burned by even friendly-seeming kids among the pretties had loaded them with more than their share of social caution.
Even so they still followed, morbidly curious as to why he was moving with such haste, when it wasn't to get away from them. Neither would admit it, but Lancer's dancer physique and smoky eyes drew their attention every time he went past them. The fact that his emotions were a bit less hard-edged than most of the guys on campus made him doubly intriguing. The two GSD girls followed along, trying not to be too obvious that they were, a task made nearly impossible by the sheer lack of people to use as cover.
The twins stopped and sighed as a fairly pretty black-haired girl in a Security Auxiliary uniform met him and the two shared a hug, then kissed lightly before going into the Arena together.
"It's just not fair. We never get to have the cute ones." Deimos pouted.
Phobos shrugged mildly. "Yeah well, what can you do? It's not like we're going to DO anything. When was the last time one of us dug up the guts to talk to a boy without being emotionally overloaded first?"
"Bah. I really hate the truth sometimes. Fuck. Well, we could always go bug the Underdogs when they get off work."
"Nah, they mean well but we scare the shit out of the lot of 'em."
"That fear aura. Why couldn't we have gotten something else? I really hate trying to make friends when they're shitting their pants being near us."
Phobos nodded. "I'm getting tired of being alone around here. Sorry sis, but we run out of things to talk to, and I don't fancy trying to buddy up with Pucelle."
Deimos groaned. "Uh God, don't remind me of her, please! It's bad enough that I have to live with her! If I have to hear one more speech about the plight of the downtrodden GSD types again I'm gonna rip her arms off."
"You said that last week."
"Shut up."
"And the week before."
"Grrr... If you weren't my sister I'd clock you one. Hard."
"You love me."
"Prove it."
"Well, maybe it's time we took up Diamondback on that standing offer to just hang out with the Outcasts." Phobos looked up at the light snowfall coming down from the sky and sighed. "At least they don't go into a near panic whenever we're around. And they can stop us when we start getting too heated."
"I dunno, they can be pretty violently angry some days. You've seen Jericho mad, and he's probably the most gleefully happy of the three. Then there's that new girl who's just a walking rage bomb looking for a place to go off."
"Well what do you want to do, hang out with Thuban's Faction Three? I hate to break it to you, sis, but they don't react to us any better than the Dickinson bitches do."
"Yeah, I know. I know Diamond and her friends barely register that fear thing we have going, and they don't care what we look like, but think about it. Being around them isn't really safe for us, physically or emotionally."
"You know what, Janine, fuck being safe. I'm tired of being alone, with no friends to hang out with on a regular basis. I'd rather risk a Fury event than keep on trying to gut things out like this. What else we going to do, sulk around and stare at Lancer's ass and wish we were Little Miss Wallflower for the rest of our time here?"
"No, you're right. I'm just scared, Adrienne."
Phobos nodded and laid one of her four arms on her twin's shoulder. "Yeah, me too. But we gotta start trusting people sometime."
"I know. Otherwise we might as well just lie down and die."
"I dunno about you, sis, but I have no intention of lying down and doing anything. Well, maybe if he's cute enough."
Deimos smirked. "Ok sis, you win. Let's give it a shot. At least that way we can at least say we tried if things don't work."
"That's the spirit. Now let's go inside. I'm freezing my tails off out here."
Hank parted ways with Lily as they began moving to their respective seats with their teams. He really really liked Lily, and she made him happy. He wasn't exactly sure if it was love, but she made him feel good. He snorted as he contemplated her codename. Even though she wasn't exemplar hot, she wasn't just a wallflower to him. He watched her wander back to her other friends , then turned and bumped straight into a spitting mad Andrea Elsner.
Bunker bounced off him, and let out a low-grade bout of swearing under her breath. The short blonde girl in digital cammies glared at him and then simply darted past him on her way out of the arena. It was a far cry from the enthusiasm and gleeful mayhem he'd seen from her the night before. He turned back to go towards his seat and saw Deadeye, the grunts' leader shaking his head and smirking.
"Hey Declan, how goes things?" The octopus-eyed sniper/team leader asked.
"Fine. What the hell crawled up Bunker's ass? She looks about ready to chew up a lead bar and spit bullets."
Deadeye shook his head and smirked. "She just finished out her combat final. She's somewhat less than pleased with the results."
"Why, she lose that bad?"
Deadeye snorted. "You kidding? She won in a minute and thirteen seconds. They stuck her up against that girl from Dickinson who's power is to turn into glass. It was like watching George Foreman threatening to beat the crap out of a cripple."
"So easy fight, and that's got her mad?"
"Shit yeah, Bunker was itching for a challenge, you know balls to the wall proving she's just as tough as the rest of us? All she had to do was point her sidearm at the girl and punch in the codes. Glass girl wasn't gonna risk getting shot for the spindle, so she skedaddled. Bunk didn't even have to use her powers."
That was interesting. Hank hadn't known about that angle for the Grunts' personalities.
"So you all hoping for a good fight then?"
"Hope so. Next week when us upper-classmen do our thing I'm hoping to get Stormwolf or Breaker actually. I mean if you're gonna throw down, might as well be against someone who can give you a real run for it, right?" He gave a smirk that told Hank he wasn’t telling the whole story there.
"Guess so. Well, with my team in the Crash this semester I'm pretty sure mine'll be a rough run."
"Enjoy it when it comes, Declan. Because if you win in the Crash, and you're up against a rough sitch, it's worth that much more in the long run. Besides, you don't learn anything from an easy win anyway, ya?"
Hank nodded, then looked Deadeye in his eerie eyes. "Ok. I like that. I'm in, but I'm NOT leaving my friends."
"Would've questioned your sanity if you did." Deadeye nodded. "All right, here's the deal. Sooner or later both our teams are going to wind up playing tag with each other in the simulators. I don't want to hear about Team Kimba's soft spots that can be hit, and I don't want them hearing about ours. Whichever side you choose to play on, you give it your all. If I think for a split-second you aren't you're out. I don't care if I have to meet you on opposite sides of the line for the Kimbas. What goes in the sims, stays there, but I expect to see you pushing yourself in all cases. You read?"
"Loud and clear. When will the Kimbas expect to see sim time? We haven't had any team sims yet."
"That's because you're all Froshes. If you had a Soph or above you'd be hitting the sims from about week three on, because the Froshes start semester two. All the rest of us have to play in the sandbox from the get-go. So that means you're looking at a lot of teams like the Masterminds, the Wild Pack, the Capes, and Outcast Corner who've been playing with the big kids the whole time."
"I thought the Outcasts were Freshmen."
Deadeye nodded. "They are, except for Razorback. He's a Sophomore and he's teamed with them, so they got the drop early. They just picked up a fourth member on the roster. Watch out for 'em in the sims. They’re an absolute nightmare to root out and drag down."
Hank smiled. "Fair enough. Nikki's been working with them for the past couple weeks with their new gig in Security."
Deadeye nodded. "Speaking of which, the clock is ticking."
"Nikki's gonna come talk to you tonight. Much as she despises dragging yet more people into this, Bunker and Mule savaged those Voodoo motherfuckers by themselves. And they need all the help they can get."
"You're not in on this?"
"Nope. Not psychologically safe. Unless you can shield or are immune to magic, just looking at one of those things will make you crazy. Or worse. Like in the old Lovecraft stories."
Deadeye nodded, looking thoughtful. "Thanks for the tip. I'll be talking to Fubar about that, and see what we can cook up. Last thing I need is for Bomber to go crazier."
"What is his problem anyway? Besides being a dick," Hank asked.
"Bomber is a card-carrying sociopath. Don't provoke him, and don't give him ammo. He's just as good at getting under people's skins and breaking down their self-esteem as he is at blowing shit up."
"Thanks for the warning."
"It takes all types man. Better that he's on our side taking orders than somewhere else where we can't keep an eye on him."
Hank nodded and by mutual, silent assent, both boys carried on their merry way.
"There now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Ophelia led a twitching Caitlin Bardue from the infirmary suite where she'd performed the examination. Caitlin's only reply was something that resembled a growl as she walked purposefully past Doctor Bellows and Polland and straight into the men's bathroom.
"So. How did it go?" Polland asked cheerfully, gratified by the subdued and somewhat unnerved expression the girl bore. He couldn't help but smile as Caitlin loudly started heaving from the restroom.
"Oh, it went pretty well. She'll be fine. I don't think the reality of her situation had quite hit up until now." Ophelia's expression was bemused and annoyed all at once.
"So how did you manage to keep her calm?" Bellows questioned. "I didn't hear any crying, screaming, or any loud thumps."
Ophelia rolled her eyes at the two men. "You just have to know how to handle her, and I'll thank you to inform me the next time one of my regular patients has something like this happen. I don't like getting emergency calls about something that is easy to deal with."
"You call that easy? We tried reasoning with her, it doesn't WORK!" Polland's smile evaporated.
"Good lord, you two are forgetting that no matter how she's changed, Caitlin, I guess it is now, is a MARINE." She shook her head. "You don't try to reason with them, or plead and cajole once they've gotten their wild hair up and running. You tell them to grow up, quit acting like a damned baby and do as they're told! It's not advanced physics!"
"Easy for you to say. Mahren was notorious for being a bit loose in the screws up here." Bellows tapped his head. "Add to that she's still uncooperative, won't tell anyone anything about what's eating at her, and will not sit through a full counseling session. And getting her to talk about her past, be it her family, or her time in the Marines is sort of akin to trying to teach a rock to do dog tricks. Never mind her anger management issues."
"Okay. Have you tried a psychic counselor?" Ophelia asked.
Polland shook his head. "Nada. The only psychic Mahren wouldn't pound for getting into his head is Louis, and even he recommends severely respecting Caitlin's mental space."
Bellows nodded. "More to the point Mahren wouldn't even enter a room with a psychic shrink. It was always he'd walk in, figure it out, then leave."
Caitlin chose that moment to come out of the bathroom, gave the three doctors a distasteful look then started heading into the next testing area, praying to get this nightmare over with.
"Caitlin why won't you see a counselor or get a telepath to help you?" Ophelia's exasperation must have been showing, as Caitlin turned and gave Dr. Tenent a weary look.
"None of you are cleared for that information." The girl turned and walked out of the examination area.
"See? Uncooperative." Bellows sighed and rubbed his head. "Every time someone broaches the topic she always gives a variation on that same smartass answer."
"Bellows, you've been at this too long. You try to analyze some things too much."
"Why do you say that Ophelia?"
"That wasn't a smartass comment." Dr. Tenent looked thoughtful. "She was dead serious when she said that."
"How can you tell?"
"Because that's the same expression and tone of voice Mahren always had after the investigations into the two burnouts he's had on Range Four whenever someone asked him about it. He'd told the story a thousand times, and didn't want to talk about it again because he thought he'd failed somehow."
Bellows looked thoughtful. "There's more to this than you're saying, isn't there?"
Ophelia nodded. "Erik had two gunshot wounds that had healed up, and a thin scar line from his left shoulder to his pectoral, and a series of small burn scars all over his body." She noted the look on the doctors' faces. "BEFORE he started dating McQuiston, you twits."
"Did he ever tell you how he got them?"
"No. And at the time I thought he was being a smartass, too. But since then I've gotten to know Erik well enough that if he doesn't want to tell you something he just won't tell you, or will ignore the question entirely. But if he can't tell you he won't make up bullshit excuses to avoid the telling."
Polland nodded thoughtfully. "What the hell could that girl be sitting on that's so damned painful that she won't tell anyone about it?"
Ophelia shook her head. "Not won't, can't. That was her way of saying sorry, I can't tell you that. Period. You guys are mistaking blunt honesty for subtlety."
Jadis Diabolik watched the girl her brother and Nephandus had been talking about before. She certainly didn't seem like much, other than your standard-issue exemplar with a weird taste in glyphed and runed clothing. The invisibility spell didn't seem to be tripping any of the wards that were visibly drawn on the walls, temporary affairs meant to be washed away later. But wherever the girl went, especially after she got done with whatever she was doing with Ophelia, the runes and glyphs glowed an angry red color. All in all it made Jadis wonder if she hadn't been wasting the last five minutes infiltrating the infirmary to get information for nothing.
The docs were boring. They'd been discussing another teacher, the one who'd gone missing, or died, so she'd tuned them out and went to studying the wards that were stenciled in. Jadis really had no interest in the range four instructor, Mahren, beyond the warm fuzzy feeling she got when she considered he'd given her brother, Malachai, detention four times in a row for breaking minor safety rules testing some of his hardware. Malachai had more or less done a dance of joy when he'd found out Mahren wasn't coming back. So had a lot of students, for that matter.
Now the runes... THOSE were interesting, and they all seemed geared towards a specific end, specifically power suppression, and seemed very specifically set. Since they glowed whenever the girl walked by, she was guessing they were attuned to her. When she'd come out of the bathroom, Jadis had followed her straight over to a punching bag, where the girl was currently pounding on the bag with an abandon bordering on a complete loss of cool. She was also growling to herself and swearing. So much for Nephandus' little delusion about the girl being docile. Strike one.
With a bit of watching whatever the runes were, it was meant to suppress something the girl was doing, probably something she had no control over. They were powerful runes. Strike two for Nephandus. You didn't go through elaborate measures like this unless the person you were dealing with was dangerous.
When Jadis opened her senses two things about the girl stood out in stark contrast. The first was the fact that the wards on her clothing filled the same function as the ones on the infirmary walls. And whatever power she was bleeding, it was magic, and it was barely keeping that power contained, even with both ward sets supporting each other. And strike three, Jean-Armand. You are NOT getting my brother killed because you underestimated someone.
As Jadis came to that inevitable conclusion, the girl started drawing in energy, fast and hard, then released it, screaming in a flood of rage at the bag. The emerald-green energy arced, jolted and hit the punching bag, causing it to burn, freeze, and explode and seemingly implode all at once into a cloud of sawdust, ash and ice. Some of the particles floated around the girl like tiny orbiting planets, as Jadis heard peoples' feet pounding down the hallway towards them.
The girl was standing there, stunned, as if she hadn't expected THAT to happen.
Jadis' mind was made up as the girl looked at her hands, stepped back, and threw another violent storm of pure chaos at the remains of the punching bag. An evil grin spread along her metal hair-framed face. I am DEFINITELY not letting my brother get himself killed trying to catch this chicka.
Caitlin stared, stunned at the absolute havoc her rage had wrought as Doctors Bellows, Tenent and Polland bolted into the area with a wild look in their eyes. The motes, burning bits and ice shards were swirling around Caitlin's body like a demented snowstorm as she summed up her feelings simply and aptly. "Woah."
"What happened?" Polland asked.
Caitlin started swatting away the orbital bits and shook herself off, trying to process what had just happened. "I'm not sure."
"Wonderful, time for more tests."
"I hate you."
"We know Caitlin, we know, now come on. We've got a lot to do and my dinner with Raul is getting cold." Ophelia led the girl back into the scanning rooms for more work.
"So damn, must be a pain in the ass moving through all the snow and the cold." Chaka was eyeing Diamondback up and down, with neither a trace of fear or disgust, merely curiosity.
Diamond sighed. "It can be. I can usually get from class to class just fine, but too long outside in this and you'll find me curled up on a heat vent trying to get warm." Her GSD wasn't something she really liked discussing or even thinking about for the most part, but she couldn't feel anything more than honest curiosity from the girls who were considered known troublemakers by most of the staff and student body.
Chaka simply nodded an looked around. "So what's up, we gonna stand around here and wait'll the finals or over, or should we go get some food and go do something?"
Nikki shrugged. "Got anything in mind?"
Jericho shrugged. "Hey me'n Razor gotta go get set up down at Hawthorne. We gots to practice, for a bit. Any chance you lot can go practice that shieldy thing, Fey?"
Diamondback looked in askance at her friend.
He just grinned. "Hey, the elfy one knows what you're shielding against. I figure she's the best one for it to teach."
Nikki smiled, but gave Sandra her space. "If you're up for it, now's as good a time as any. We can hit Poe and settle in and finish up before the crowd comes in."
Sandra looked over at Jericho and Razor. "I'll catch up with you guys later. I'll try to intercept Cait and drag her along, too."
-Sounds like a plan. Get to it, we could use you dealing with these voodoo-fuckers.- Razorback signed, then led Jericho out of the arena and off to Twain to pick up their gear.
"So what are those two goofballs off to?" Chaka asked, looking at the milling crowd, who were intently watching yet another in a string of combats that the girls were getting tired of seeing for the day.
"Probably to set up their guitars for some serious music. You'd never know it from looking at 'em but they're probably the biggest metalheads on campus." Diamondback smirked.
Chaka's eyes went wide. "What, no gangsta rap? No lyrics about bros and ho's and bling?"
Diamondback rolled her eyes. "Please, I'd have killed him YEARS ago."
Nikki chuckled and Chaka grinned. The martial artist had a sunny tone to her voice as she spoke. "Oh damn, I think we're all gonna get along juuuust fine."
Sandra found the two girls' enthusiasm infectious. The other Kimbas had wandered off. Jade had some kind of appointment, Chou needed to get her bandages changed, and the others had already meandered off to the Crystal hall for food.
Diamond noted the flag outside the Arena was green with a mix of trepidation and relief. Relief in that it would be faster just to go to the Crystal hall over the snow. Trepidation in that she'd have to spend more than a few minutes slithering through the snow, and she didn't have any real excuse to bow out and squirrel her way into the tunnels for her own peace of mind.
"Relax, Diamondback." The alien, redheaded elf smirked. "I can feel you getting nervous. Just go with the flow."
"You sound like Jericho." Sandra snorted.
"Speaking of that boy, how is it he's blind, but he can shoot a gun without missing everything or hitting his friends” Chaka looked at Diamondback curiously. "I mean I can tell he's got something going, but I can't figure it out!"
Sandra smirked lightly, grateful for a topic that didn't involve her mutation. "Good, that's how he likes it. Joe's a bit iffy on the whole combat thing to begin with and he's not exactly what one would call scary in a fight unless he can prepare for it. He likes to make sure that people always have to keep guessing and off-balance so he can get away with whatever he's up to. And this isn't a new thing, he's done that since he could walk and talk."
"So is that an 'I'm not going to tell you' statement?"
"As politely as I can, yes. Sorry, I and my friends keep each others' secrets. If he decides to clue you in, I'll talk about it, but we like to keep our privacy. Unlike Razor who's pretty much public about the fact that sonics bone him. He would rather get dumped out than maim random people in a rage."
Chaka nodded. "I didn't know about the sonics thing. And is he really that bad?"
Diamondback nodded. "Yeah, he's talked a tiny bit to me about the voodoos. Don't point that doom shout of yours at him if you want him to stay rational or conscious. When he's fighting those things he stays crazed but, I dunno, focused?"
Nikki nodded. "He's always been just this side of wild with the Voodoo Wolves, but he's never attacked anyone else that we've seen."
"Good. That's a good swap from normal. He gets hurt bad enough and he loses it. I've seen what he does in the sims when he loses it. Anything that moves dies, ally, enemy, anything. We've had more than one innocent bystander event in the city sims. Doesn't happen often, but it DOES happen."
Chaka nodded. "So why's he so prone to snapping? I mean so far he's been a really laid back kinda guy."
Diamond shrugged. "He picked up a weird exemplar gene that makes him almost look like a velociraptor, but he's not. They had a paleobiology guy come check him out. Razor's similar, but not the same as any of the raptor types. So far as anyone can tell the spines are unique to him, and he doesn't have a dewclaw on his main toes. Not that he needs it. When he gets going he can shred steel. The big problem is that his brain has the hindbrain, the part that governs aggression and instinct, overdeveloped."
Chaka winced, but Fey seemed lost in thought. "Damn, Seems like everyone has their problems around here."
Diamondback simply nodded as the three began moving out into the snow and ice. "So what about you guys? I mean what's the big story of the infamous Team Kimba?"
"Just a buncha troublemakers who seem to get along." Fey smirked slightly. "We met on the first day and got lucky in that we all seem to get along."
Chaka smiled. "Weeeellll... It's not as simple as the roomie here suggests, but that's the gist. Add to that the fact that when the popular kids want to play their game of social Monopoly, we're all playing Connect-Four and driving them all nuts. Alas, like most of the Poe crowd, we don't feel this oppressive urge to adhere to social convention."
"Which is a bad analogy for something you dunno how to explain, and are reaching into your ass for the explanation." Diamondback smirked as Toni made a face.
"Empath?"
"Yup."
"Cheater."
The snake girl wiggled sinuously in place then gave a graceful bow before continuing to slither towards their objective.
"Nice." Fey smirked. "So where do you fit into the 'ol Outcast triangle? I mean you hear stories about Razor from the upper classmen and you can't help but hear about Jericho at one point or another. But hardly anyone has ever mentioned you."
Sandra smiled, letting the smile widen into an evil grin that showed off her fangs. "Razor has reputation as his shield, Jericho has confusion. I have anonymity as my best weapon." The smile fell away. "That and not too many people want to associate with someone who looks like a snake. And the ones that DO have a thing for naga-esque bodies..."
The two girls nodded as Diamond gave a light shudder. Fey spoke first. "I can see where that might be creepy rather than comforting for you. Especially being an empath."
"Hooo-boy. I dunno how you do it girl, but I gotta say, I was expecting you Outcasts to be the future Columbine kids from the stories." Chaka grinned. "However it is you lot keep on trucking without being constantly pissed off at the world or jealous of more normal-looking people, keep it up. And spread it around to the Thornies. I swear those kids need a boost sometime."
"Who said I wasn't jealous? It's just a waste of effort to hate someone for being lucky." Diamond watched as Thuban wandered past with his small entourage of kids who had latched onto him with his Faction Three scheme. "Some people just need to have something to rail against I guess. I'll settle for a cold soda, some spicy jerky and a good book."
"I like you. Don't ever change or we'll be forced to destroy you." Chaka grinned.
"Speaking of people who need a fucking clue..." Diamondback's voice took on a slight Texas twang and she hissed to herself. "Detour. Go that way. Now!"
The sudden diversion of direction caught the Kimbas off-guard. And they actually struggled to keep up without slipping on the ice as their erstwhile companion ducked behind Kane hall.
"Woah woah woah, McScaly, what's with the sudden shift of plans?" Chaka looked on curiously as Diamondback peeked around the corner.
"Pucelle. I'm in a good mood, and if I have to listen to her talk, I'll bite her. And that'll kill the mood."
Nikki covered a wide smile. "Not a fan I take it?" Truth be told, neither was she or any of her friends, having had to put up with Pucelle’s hypocritical “hate the pretties” rants already. It was worse when one realized that Pucelle was, in fact a stunning example of said ‘pretties.’
"I can take a lot of things. I can cope with people being afraid of me, I can deal with their disgust. I can deal with people thinking it's funny to throw food at me and then running cause they know I can't keep up." Both of the Kimba girls exchanged dark looks at that statement as Diamond kept talking. "But what I can't freaking stand is pity, especially not pity wrapped in bullshit friendship and sympathy."
"Yeah one of our friends said that's why the Faction Three kids don't hang out with her." Chaka smirked. "Personally I think it's because they can't stand to smell the garlic and habanero farts, but that's just me."
"You wouldn't happen to have anyone with the last name of Turner in your family tree would you?" Diamondback looked at Chaka.
"Not that I know of, why?"
"Just checking, because for a moment there I had this image of you and Jericho being related."
"Oh god I hope not! I mean what if his fashion sense is genetic? Would it be curable?"
Nikki started snickering.
"No, I'm afraid that condition is terminal. But so long as you don't have a massive urge towards pranks, sarcasm, and a joy for mayhem when provoked I doubt you and Joe would be related."
Toni stopped and gave Diamondback a horrified look as Fey started giggling. "No no no, there is no possible way! I don't have anyone in my family who dresses that badly!" Toni stopped and considered. "Ok besides Grandma, but she's old!”
"Oh I wouldn't worry then, you're probably just cousins and I'm pretty sure the trait's recessive. Your children might have it though."
Toni grimaced and glared at Nikki, who was openly laughing by this point. "Thanks for the support roomie."
Nikki wiped her eyes. "Sorry, I just had this image of you in a neon-pink shirt wearing a green tutu going to the prom run through my head! I couldn't stop it!"
Chaka mock-glared as Diamondback started snickering. "Oh I see how it is. It's a martial-artist thing isn't it? You're prejudiced against Kung-Fu!"
"But you aren't learning Kung-Fu!" Nikki protested.
"See there it is again! You’re prejudiced against martial artists."
Diamondback shrugged, "Well they do kind of remind me of ninjas, and I'm more the pirate type myself..."
"Oh god. I'm doomed." The elfin redhead was chortling, not bothering to hide her mirth anymore.
Chaka turned to Nikki. "You’re doomed? How? I'm the one in danger of developing Jericho's wardrobe here!"
Nikki smirked. "I'm gonna die laughing. I wanna see what happens when we stick you and the Outcasts in a one-liner competition, with the rest of us giving the cues."
"No." Diamondback replied archly. "The world is not prepared to face that kind of thing. Too much of a good thing will kill you too."
"Your senses of humor are a good thing?"
"They are if you wanna stay sane in this crazy world. Speaking of crazy if we spend much more time out here I'm gonna coil up around a boiler for a few hours. I'm starting to feel the chill. Can we eat now?"
"You're the one who had us hide behind Security Central," Chaka pointed out.
"Oh yeah... Details, details, empty stomach, let's go before I eat someone."
Nikki rolled her eyes. "Yeesh, Only at Whateley."
Jericho and Razorback grinned as they began hauling their guitar equipment across campus. Yellow flag days... they were created for guys like them to freak the norms, and by God they intended to get the most mileage out of their appearances in screams of terror. Sadly for Jericho, his wardrobe had caused more screaming, consternation and horror than Razorback’s appearance all year. At this rate the friendly bet they’d made with a jar full of money would fall to the velociraptor boy named Jack. Fortunately Delarose hadn’t caught on yet.
Jericho grinned as the two blithely walked past Emerson, much to the irritation of some of the less forgiving boys on campus. Among the prettyboy dorm, Jericho was the weird, blind nerd-freak who they often openly called a fag due to his manner of dress. And speaking of dresses, Jericho’s kilt was an odd shade of puke green mixed with lime green in a plaid color that hurt the eyes. The dark purple Moiré patterned shirt was nausea inducing. Even Razorback couldn’t look at those weirdly reflective patterns without his stomach lurching.
-Dude, why did you have to pick that shirt out? You know how painful it is to look at.-
“I thought I grabbed the gold silk one. It was supposed to be the third one over in the hangar.” Jericho turned his head toward his buddy.
-Joe you grabbed the purple Moiré thing that made me barf when we met.-
“Shit, bro, I’m sorry. I’ll try to get it changed tonight when we get a moment.” Jericho sounded irritated, and he was. He just happened to have picked out a piece of clothing that was actually designed to make other people sick which was something he usually reserved for dealing with jerks, not tormenting his own buddies.
“What’cha doing near Emerson, faggot?”
Jericho swore under his breath as Counterpoint, one of the few students deeply unafraid of Razorback’s violence level stepped out from behind a tree. The boy was about their age, and he stepped with all the cocky arrogance of someone who thought of himself as a god amongst mortals. The hoplite sword, a Greek-style weapon the bastard carried constantly, was strapped to his hip and sheathed.
“Chris, I thought you were looking out for a worthy fight, not hunting for a cripple to pick on.” Jericho did not want to play tag with the lunatic, and Razorback wasn’t feeling particularly gleeful about it either. Counterpoint was a nightmare in a pitched fight, and Jericho hadn’t exactly packed the bag of tricks he usually reserved for fights with exemplars and other bricks.
A Freshman like them, Counterpoint wore his black hair in a ponytail pulled back away from his blood-red eyes. He was hawkish, and would be attractive were it not for his psychotic demeanor and penchant for terrorizing anyone he could. He wasn’t much taller than Jericho, and Razorback, even in his normal stoop, had to look down to meet his eyes.
“It’s been a slow day, and you just happen to walk by my domain with the reputed worst Ultraviolent to fight, and I just gotta wonder if he’s as tough as everyone says he is.” He gave Razorback a decidedly leering look.
The feral, raptor-like detention king let out a low growl and crouched, spines snapping rigid and upright as the deadly warning rumbled in his chest. He dropped down so he was resting on all fours, in a deceptively submissive posture. From that position, with his hind legs coiled underneath him, Jack could leap an easy thirty feet faster than most people, even exemplars, could react.
“Chris, can we not do this right now?” Jericho looked nervously around at the few people milling about Emerson without moving his eyes from Counterpoint. He could see Imperious and Stygian watching with amused expressions. Counterpoint he was pretty sure they could take. All three of the New Olympian boys were a different story entirely. There was no telling whether or not imperious would watch them smear his boy while he watched, without interfering. The other Emerson assbats milling around were of a similar stripe save Stalwart, and Paul Cambridge wasn’t a fan of Jericho’s raptor-like companion, so it was unlikely they could get backup. Depending on the day, that was a very good thing, as Paul was known for hurting himself more than his opponents.
“Why pass up the opportunity, Jericho? I could play with you two, or I could take it up with the two hotties, especially your little Galatea.”
“What the hell are you babbling about you psychopathic freak?”
“Oh, she hasn’t told you? Little Galatea’s a very old soul. I could have fun with her for hours, but I’d rather have her building what I need for me. Maybe I’ll play my games with your little lamia instead.”
Jericho hit the trigger on his transporter, and a massive rifle/cannon flashed into existence. He aimed it at the bully’s head. Razorback moved into position at his side, hissing nastily at the kid threatening their friends. “And if you touch the girls I’ll kill you, Chris. I really don’t care if the MCO comes for me at that point. You touch Diamondback, you die.”
“Oh please, blind man. Everyone knows you don’t build weapons.” He looked at the two-inch wide barrel contemptuously.
Jericho grinned. “True. That’s why I buy my firepower from Slapdash, asshole, and last I checked his guns have burned you down every time he’s run you in the Sims.” Jericho clicked on the comm he’d gotten from the Kimbas by jerking his jaw to the left. He’d modified it to be a bit less unobtrusive, as he got on the comm. “Security this is Jericho, I got Counterpoint trying to provoke me and Razorback, and he’s going about it the right way, please send someone this way. I don’t want to have a fight with this jackass in the snow by Emerson.” The comm was sensitive enough that he was able to sub-vocalize and keep the psycho from hearing him.
Counterpoint’s cocky look faded slightly, only to return as Jericho noted that Imperious and Stygian were walking in their direction with amused looks on their faces. Stalwart was approaching from a different angle.
“This is Everhart, Jericho,” the woman’s voice came from the transmitter, “Is this something you can avoid?”
“I’m dearly hoping, because two of his buddies are wandering up and I can’t outrun any of them.”
“Keep me posted Jericho.”
Stalwart arrived first. “Jericho, pray tell why you are brandishing a weapon at this knave.”
“Hey bud, me’n Counterpoint were just having a nice, friendly chat while Razor bristles like a pissed-off porcupine.” Jericho looked over at his reptilian buddy. Razorback was absolutely still, not even shivering, the only sign he was alive was the growling, and the steam from his breath leaving his nostrils.
“That’s right Stalwart, we’re just having a chat... with weapons.” Counterpoint gave the knightly newcomer a false grin. “Wanna join the party?”
“Back off Chris,” Jericho lowered the heavy cannon he’d bartered off of Slapdash early in the year. “Stalwart’s not going to start anything. Are you Paul?”
The knightly sophomore scowled at Counterpoint and shook his head. “Nay, I’ll not begin the battle, but to be sure, if one erupts I shall finish it. I have thy back my friend.”
“Wonderful.” Jericho managed to not inject the dripping irony and sarcasm in his voice. He liked Paul, he really did, but the boy really needed to learn how to not get in over his head. Come to think of it Jack and he could stand to learn that lesson themselves.
The other two boys from Counterpoint’s clique on campus, who arrogantly called themselves the “New Olympians”, sauntered up and joined their psychotic friend. The six boys stared at each other in one of the wildest mismatches in history, with the two Outcasts and their erstwhile companion being grossly overmatched.
Razorback’s growling dropped an octave and got louder. He hated the New Olympians with a fiery passion that eclipsed even his personal hatred for the Alphas, and the devil-bitch leader Freya who had graduated in his freshman year. Dicks like the Don and Aries were small-time bullies and pretty gutter-scum playing at nobility. Imperious, Stygian and Counterpoint carried a noble air of abused power and authority. These were the kids who knew they were destined to rule, and they barely noticed the lesser worms as they rolled toward what they wanted. They were also among the most well-built and impressive-appearing students on campus. These kids thought they were Gods, and Razorback despised them for their sheer arrogance
Imperious was the very definition of the word Exemplar. At six-foot, one inch, and all solid muscle, Imperious towered arrogantly over Stalwart and Jericho. His ghost-white hair reached his shoulders in a way that made Razorback immediately think “Sephiroth wannabe” and his eyes were a sky blue color that seemed to peer deeper than the skin. Razorback actually noted the glamour the boys carried for the first time, a lock-on mimic for Fey’s own power, which she tried to suppress. Imperious didn’t bother even trying, taking the awe as his due. Jericho couldn’t see, so to his odd vision the young man was merely big and intimidating.
Stygian held the same air, and height of Imperious, but was more subdued. His aura was more grim, forbidding, and his appearance matched it well. His gaunt, shallow-skinned appearance was punctuated by the solid orbs of black that were his eyes. His stringy, black hair was limp, and had been allowed to grow to between his shoulder blades. Of all the New Olympians, Stygian actually was one of the few people who scared the hell out of Razorback, as much because of his attitude as for his powers. His penchant for calling shades of the dead set the boy’s teeth on edge, and he’d been the direct cause of Jack’s most colossally violent outburst on record at Whateley the year before. That had been a horrible episode, with four students uninvolved in the fight left in the infirmary, and Stygian himself damn near dead. The worst part had been when the corpselike young man had almost seemed disappointed that Razorback hadn’t killed him.
Jericho tapped Razorack three times and dipped a hand into his pocket, palming a small sphere. “Imperious. Stygian. Now I see why numbnuts here wasn’t beating the hell out of us. What brings you to me?”
Predictably, Counterpoint rushed forward menacingly at the smartass comment as Razorback backed up in response to Jericho’s tapping. The blind devisor’s hand whipped across and the small sphere exploded in the psycho boy’s face. Razorback leapt forward and slammed a powerful two-legged kick into his chest, knocking Counterpoint off his feet and throwing him into a snowbank. The boy twitched a few times as the drug released by the sphere knocked him out. Jericho grinned evilly. “Settle down Junior, adults are talking.”
Imperious scowled at Jericho, an expression the boy cheerfully ignored, and Stygian actually had to turn away to hide his amusement. “That was uncalled for, blind one.” His voice was highly annoyed as Jericho and his raptor-like companion dropped his main method of coercion with trickery. “He will remember that and come for you later.”
“Actually he’s not going to remember the last three hours. Me’n Jobe have an interesting little deal going on. He makes the drugs I need for my gear, I keep his med tech fixed. And you aren’t going to tell him.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Pray tell, Jericho...” Stalwart gave Jericho a bemused look as the blind devisor shushed him.
“Because, you want something from me, otherwise you wouldn’t be coming in my direction to talk. You wouldn’t want to be associated with a blind devisor with a horrific wardrobe.”
It was almost as though Imperious noticed the moiré pattern shirt for the first time. He was able to contain the lurching of his stomach as the unnatural pattern rippled across his vision. “Quite. I wish for you to pass a message along to Galatea.”
“Ok that’s the second time you monkeys have mentioned a Galatea, and I don’t know anyone who goes by that name except for a busted up old Greek legend about some dude humping a statue.” Jericho fixed Imperious with his blank, unreadable, white-eyed stare.
“The tall girl with the metal hair and eyes. The one who spends much of her time avoiding anyone but you Outcasts and your hangers-on.” Imperious looked more than a bit disgusted by the thought of hanging out with the mixed bag of freaks, weaklings and psychopaths the Outcasts kept contact with. “I have business with her and you are going to instruct her to come to Emerson tonight to speak with me and my friends.”
Jericho gave Imperious a hostile look, and Razorback growled. “I’ll tell her you want to talk, but I ain’t instructing her to do shit. I’ll pass along the message, but if she says no, I’m not caring.”
“You will pass along the message as given or...”
“Or what?” Jericho clicked the safety off the core ejector and let the safeties on the matter transmitter beacons fall away. “I know you’re a badass, but if you take a step in our direction we’ll stomp a hole in your ass.”
Imperious’ face darkened like a thundercloud. “You really don’t want to make me your enemy, Jericho.” The implied threat was there.
“Imperious, I don’t care how powerful you and your ‘New Olympian’ group are. You fuck with one of us, you fuck with all of us. Please, make a move now. I may be a bumbling, blind Devisor, but Razorback’ll skin your boy and I got enough tricks to make you wish I’d never been born. You screw with Diamondback and you’ll get the Fury Twins crawling down your throat. And ‘Galatea’ as you so ineptly call her, went one-on-three with Bloodwolf’s crew and beat them down. I think all of us will scrap your little Olympian Dream. So please, keep threatening us motherfucker, and I’ll call up a hellstorm you haven’t fucking seen.”
Imperious seemed a bit taken aback. He wasn’t expecting the open defiance. He pushed forward again, though. “Don’t anger me, Jericho.”
The blind Devisor simply stared at him. “I will pass on the message. If you screw with my girl, Imperious, I will call in every goddamned marker I have and squash you.”
“Who would back you and your little freak brigade?”
Jericho smiled as he went down the list. “The Underdogs - keep smirking asshole - the Grunts, Team Kimba, Sara’s Pack, half of Twain Hall because they hate you, Thuban owes me, Caitlin has access to the Range four armory, the Fury Twins will back us, oh and you’re threatening two members of the Security Auxiliaries.”
Imperious scowled. “Pass along the message, Jericho, as instructed. You don’t want me as your enemy.”
“No? You already earned me as yours, you sanctimonious prick. So bring it the fuck on. I haven’t busted up a good ‘fuck with the fat kid’ party in over a year, and I really miss making bullies look like a buncha dumbasses.”
Imperious raised a fist, and found the barrel of one of Slapdash’s special ordinance pieces pointed at his chest. “Very well, Jericho, since that is the way you wish it to be, so be it.”
Imperious and Stygian left without further word, and Jericho and Razorback relaxed, slightly, noting Stalwart’s incredulous expression. “Jericho you are a truly brave man to confront Imperious as such. Few others dare to do so for fear of retribution.”
Jericho safed the Core Ejector and hit a stud on the inside of the weapon and released it to flash out of existence. “Excuse me for a second.” He walked over to a tree and promptly threw up. Razorback was shaking uncontrollably and not from the cold, simply thankful that he hadn’t had to fight Stygian’s dead shades again and moved away from the other two boys to get his body under control again.
Paul Cambridge, perhaps the most foolishly fearless student on campus, realized for the first time watching the scene that both Jericho, his friend from the Devisor labs, and Razorback, whom Stalwart was still firmly convinced of being an evil beast that needed to be put down, had been afraid. He didn’t have fear in his own heart for Imperious or Stygian and their bully-boy Counterpoint (who was still lying in the snow where Razorback had kicked him). As he watched the pair even his own righteous sense of bravery didn’t blind him to the fact that Jericho and Razorback had stood down two of the most powerful upperclassmen in the school.
They had done it while being absolutely terrified of their opponents.
Half an hour after Elyzia Grimes, the magic department’s evocation teacher walked into the examination room with Caitlin, the girl had exited the locked and sealed room by the simple expedient of kicking the steel-reinforced frame out of the wall. She fixed doctors Polland and Bellows with a look of pure rage before simply walking towards the exit, arcing bizarre energies into the protective wards. The runes in her irises were molten as the storm around her rapidly convinced anyone who happened to be in her way to vacate the area, quickly.
Elyzia Grimes, AKA “Morticia” to the students, had just as severe and foul a reputation among the students studying things mystic as Mahren had amongst the students with classes on the firing ranges. It was inevitable that their personalities and personal Martyr Complexes had driven them to impolitely dislike one another. In very real ways both of the instructors had been far too much alike to get along in any way resembling civil conduct. It appeared that Caitlin’s new situation hadn’t moderated the phenomenon at all, and Doctor Polland sighed as the willowy, brunette woman stalked up to him.
“All right Polland, fun is fun, but I want to know who that Golem belongs to. Now.” Her tone was angry and demanding.
“That’s not a Golem, Elyzia. That is a sixteen year old girl, one with a colossally foul temper.”
The woman looked at him and rolled her eyes. “No, she is not. She looks human, feels human, and reacts like a sociopath. But she isn’t human. She’s a construct, one made from stone, steel, some form of crystal I haven’t seen and a hell of a lot of bloodsteel, more than I have ever seen gathered in one place, which means far too many people died in the process of her creation.” She took a breath. “Whoever is responsible for her creation will answer for a lot.”
Bellows looked over at his compatriot. “I think we may have misjudged putting the two of them in the same room.” He turned back to the outraged teacher. “What exactly happened in there?”
“Not much to tell. I figured out she wasn’t human or a mutant within a few minutes, while she sat there glowering at me. After that it should have been a simple matter of determining who had built her, and what the spirit-thing empowering her was, but she refused to cooperate at any stage of the examination. When I told her to sit down, behave and tell me who built her she clammed up and started sparking. After a few minutes she started backtalking and making snide comments. It escalated from there, and she went silent, turned, and kicked the door frame off the wall and left. So my question stands. Who built her?” She glossed over the conversation, and the screaming match that followed.
“Oh my.” Bellows turned the scenario over in his head again and again, reflecting on the fact that his little prank idea could very well have gotten him, Polland and Grimes torn to shreds. He began to develop some serious respect for Caitlin’s self-control. Mahren would have put people through walls, or tried to. “Elyzia, she’s not a construct. We have eyes-on who can vouch, reliably, that Caitlin started human. She’s no constructed thing.”
“That’s impossible. That wasn’t a human spirit running loose inside her, I could feel that much, just a tangled knot of half-formed emotion and experience. If she was human she’d have had to have been a Hollow...” her eyes widened with sudden recognition, “...Man.” Grimes looked back the way the enraged student had stormed away. “It’s not possible. She can’t be...”
“Yes, she can.” Bellows leaned against a wall. “We’re trying to help her, but after this my best bet would be the only way we get her back in here will be at gunpoint.”
“How long until she goes to Carson to rant?”
Polland looked at Grimes with a disbelieving look. “Grimes, when was the last time that one ever went to tattle on anyone? You know better. She’s going to go someplace she can be alone and destroy everything in sight to vent her rage until she cools off. That means either the Range Four gun line, or she’s going out into the woods, pick a spot, and kill anything alive within five hundred meters that isn’t human.”
“So what do we do about her?”
Bellows shook his head. “We let her go, and tell security that she needs some serious alone time. To the tune of making sure nobody disturbs her.”
“Shouldn’t we stop her and get her to her room?”
“No, we can’t force her to do anything. Grimes, like it or not, even though Carson thinks it’s a good idea to hide her for whatever reason amongst the students, she’s a twenty-eight year old woman. We can’t force her to do anything, even if she doesn’t have more than a falsified identity. If we push her any more she might just walk away from the campus, or do worse to herself. I think Polland and I might have pushed her too far this time.”
“You two...” Grimes cocked her head as the pieces clicked into place. Her expression hardened and she glared knives at both of the doctors in a rough approximation of the look Caitlin had shot them. “We will discuss this later, at length.”
Bellows sighed. “All right, I’m going to go find Hartford or Carson. One of them might be able to run damage control here. We seem to have made a slight error in judgment.”
Polland nodded and tried to swallow in a suddenly dry mouth. He had no doubt that Carson would be having very pointed words with both of them soon. “Alright. Elyzia, can you tell me what you got specifically from examining her?”
Elyzia’s glaring, angry expression never changed. “She’s not human anymore, not even alive, truly as you and I know it. That entire body of hers is built as a giant, mobile mystic focus. She looks human, acts human, and even her internal biology is, in cursory fashion, human. But visual similarity is where that ends. As a construct she is a nearly perfect replication of the human form.”
“Near-perfect?”
She nodded. “She has a stone body, something similar to marble with odd, crystal properties. Her main nerves are basically mithril threads running through her body, her bones are basically a denser form of the stone with threads of various metals lacing them, not enough to make them stronger, but to do what I think it’s set up for. Her blood is bloodsteel and her brain and the rest of her nerves are literally formed of some kind of crystal. Her eyes are adamant orbs set into her head with inset steel irises, marked with runes I can’t read.”
“That can’t be. She shouldn’t even be able to move.”
Elyzia explained with far more patience than she felt. “That’s why I thought she was a construct, Doctor. She’s not moving out of any biological process. Her body is literally tapping ambient mystic energies from everything around her to keep her both mobile and mostly human in appearance. She has organ structures I’ve never seen before in addition to all the human type ones and mithril-crystal nerve clusters positioned at what most mystics would recognize as chakra points. She is a giant mana battery, and she’s charging constantly, that violent corona she manifests is the overcharge escaping into the world. The more emotional she gets, the more she draws, and the more she releases. Were she to run naked and angry down a street she’d probably destroy anything she came across by accident.”
“Wonderful. Carson’s not going to like this.”
“Polland, I don’t like this very much myself. She’s dangerous, uncontrolled, and if I’m reading this correctly she’s the one who’s been throwing the mystic side and the Astral out of whack for the last few weeks.”
“I didn’t think that was possible.”
“You’re not a mage or a WIZ-Class mutant.” Elyzia sighed. “There are a few things that can cause such things. She’s the only one I’ve ever seen mobile and sentient though. Everyone I’ve ever met who was monumentally stupid enough to disrupt things like she has been doing by accident died because of it.”
Polland looked thoughtful. “How far out can these disruptions you speak of be sensed?”
“Given the magnitude? Probably all the way to Colorado. It may not disrupt things that far out, but there will be... signs.”
“Wonderful, more good news. Let me guess, the more her temper spikes the more noticeable these signs will become.”
Elyzia nodded.
“All right, one last thing, something I’ve been curious about for about four years now between you two.”
“I can’t promise I’ll answer that, but you may ask.”
“What’s a Hollow Man, and why did you always refer to Mahren as one? I recall it pissed him off immensely.”
“I called Erik Mahren Hollow Man, because he is a Hollow Man. As to what it is, I’m not sure I want to discuss the nuances of the soul and magic with someone who will merely try to couch my words in scientific claptrap that likely will have absolutely no bearing on the reality.”
“Given some of the things coming from the Kimbas and a certain blind devisor, you might be surprised what I’m open to listening to Elyzia.” Polland shuddered. “These last few days have been more than a little frightening and mind-bending without taking Caitlin into account.”
Elyzia Grimes shrugged. “All right, Doctor, but for this you’re going to have to let go of everything you have ever thought you knew about God and the soul.” She looked at Polland’s suddenly skeptical look. “No, Doctor, I am not saying that God does not exist or that the Wiccans are right, or the Hindi or anyone else for that matter. I have seen plenty of evidence that points to a higher power, more than would point away from one. You must merely learn to accept that in matters spiritual, human perception muddies the details, and makes what would otherwise be crystal clear become rather fuzzy.”
“Meaning?”
Elyzia’s smirk was ironic. “Free will is a bitch, and everything we see and know is filtered through our own perceptions.”
“I can buy that.”
“All right. What it boils down to is somewhere in his past, Erik Mahren’s soul was damaged, effectively cored out from the inside.” She took a deep breath. “The human soul can’t be destroyed by anything, but it can be consumed or wounded in varying ways. Whether this happened when he was younger or in a past life I couldn’t tell you. Most Hollow Men are born that way, with souls that are empty and scarred over, effectively spiritual blank slates. They don’t really react like normal people, are usually withdrawn, and tend to go along with anyone or anything that gives them direction.”
“That doesn’t seem to fit Mahren, Elyzia.”
“On the surface it wouldn’t, but the signs are there. Unless Mahren was provoked, he would always go with the flow, but whenever he was provoked he always hit the problem with everything he had with no middle ground. Unlike most Hollow Men who pass through their lives from one end to the other, Mahren at some point managed to ‘wake up’ from the spiritual and emotional haze. Hollow Men have deadened emotions, nothing as strong as you or I would feel. While not sociopathic or incapable, they tend to run with an emotional context more because they are supposed to, rather than because they really feel it. A lover might show passion for her paramour more because she feels she should than from any real emotional attachment. A mourner might cry at his brother’s funeral more because he knows he is supposed to than from the intensity of grief. These people don’t function well on their own, they need people around them to help them figure out how to live, and learn to restrain themselves when they actually decide to move.”
Polland still looked skeptical, but he nodded and allowed her to continue.
“But the point is, they’re alive, but not really living. Some recover, but it actually takes an emotional spark to wake them up enough to really feel. Hollow Men are crippled because they are empty vessels that really give nothing and take nothing from around them. They also have wild potential because when they wake up, whatever they take to, they do so with a mad intensity that is hard to follow by someone who doesn’t feel things the way they do. But there is a danger. Should this person fall back to their old habits and just let things pass and always go with the flow, they fall back to where they started, emotionally dead, no drive, nothing beyond survival from moment to moment.”
“So Mahren was just reacting to you because he thought he should feel hostile towards you?”
“Oh no. Even before this, Erik Mahren was wide awake and raging. Whatever woke him up got him pissed off and kept him going. It would have to have been raw, raging emotion that woke him up to the actual world around him, Polland. Far from being emotionally deadened, Mahren would have felt each emotion like a stabbing wound, both good and ill. Fortunately, somewhere after waking up, he learned some measure of discipline and control, which is why he was always locked in the immediate, reactive and adaptive behaviors we have all come to see. It’s also why we all knew Mahren as the iron-disciplined hardass the students all know and loathe. But some things always made his control slip, and you get his pure, pissed-off moods or ecstatic highs that always gave anyone with empathic talent a headache to be around when his control did slip.”
“All right, for benefit of the discussion here, why in God’s name wouldn’t someone who had that kind of emotional backlash be hospitalized in a mental ward?”
“It’s a matter of degrees, Doctor. Just because someone feels with an intensity that deep doesn’t mean they are nonfunctional. Mahren channeled everything he had into whatever he was doing. For him, life has always been an all-or-nothing game. I barely knew the man and I saw it. He drove himself harder than he ever drove any students, and the man almost never missed a trick on the fly. When he put his mind to it he was the most aggressive and adaptive baseline I have ever seen in my life, and he gave himself to Cat McQuiston heart and soul. He loved her so much it probably scared him. The signs were all there, if one knows how to look. And the fun part? He never had a barometer to gauge himself, really, so to him that level of intensity felt normal.”
“How do you know all of this?”
Grimes smirked. “You see, this is where things get fuzzy. I don’t know all of this for sure. I barely know the man, outside of the fact that I don’t like him, or I guess it would be her now. I called him Hollow Man after he figured out what the term meant, and it royally pissed him off, because he thinks it means I see him as something less than human. What it really boiled down to, was that it kept his emotions boiling and helped keep him awake, if only in tiny steps. The fact that we never got along personally or professionally helped with that. The only thing I know for sure is that he’s a Hollow Man.”
“Okay, so besides the emotional issues, what does being like that do to someone?”
“Among other things it makes them extremely undesirable to spirits or demons that would want to cut a deal with an otherwise normal person for the classic ‘Devil’s Deal but it also makes them wildly susceptible to things like mental coercion or possession by dangerous spirits.”
Polland looked up sharply. “Possession. You mean a Hollow Man would attract a spirit looking for a body.”
“Yes, it would allow the spirit to insinuate itself with little fuss. Mahren, however, wouldn’t exactly be ideal in his awake state. His will and emotions are too volatile for most spirits to want to risk getting too deep and caught.”
“What if he were to have ‘woken up’ after the spirit started sinking its hooks into him?”
“Then doctor, it will be a war to determine which one wins and gains ultimate control over him.”
“And the loser?”
Elyzia looked grim. “The loser of that particular contest would face dissolution and absorption into the winner. They would be consumed, and the winner would gain everything the loser had, be it power, knowledge, or something greater or simpler.”
“Shit.” Polland looked back towards the door Caitlin had kicked in. “Do you know any ways to help someone fight back and win over a spirit?”
“Yeah, go to church and pray to whatever Gods you believe in to lend strength to that girl, because at this point, it’s all in her hands.”
Diamondback hadn’t been inside any of the “Normal kids” cottages thus far in the year, so the second-floor Poe study room was nothing like she’d expected. The spider web of ropes and silk hammocks draped all over what the Poe crazies called “Kimba Corner” surprised the hell out of her, and she felt a thin stab of jealousy at the sight. They didn’t have anything like this in Whitman, although the oft-times depressed air on bad days didn’t lend itself to this sort of eclectic, devil-may-care setup. Never mind Mrs. Savage would probably have a fit were someone to set up something like this in the common room of what Diamondback and her few female friends jokingly called “Freak House Femme”. Needless to say they weren’t too popular among the pity-me parade in Whitman, though most of the girls, even the ones worse off, smirked and giggled when they said it out loud.
“How did you all get permission to get this kind of setup?” Sandra’s voice was wistful as she looked at it.
Toni grinned. “Mrs. Horton was cool with it, and Ayla had the hammocks, so we set up a little spot for ourselves to hang out, do homework, whatever.”
“Sweet.” Sandra looked at the two girls in the empty common room and bizarrely felt at ease. The vibes she was getting off them were as though all was normal, the same vibe she got off Joe, Jack and Caitlin. As she dealt with the two forward, seemingly-open girls she felt more relaxed, something usually lacking when dealing with other people. “Maybe if I can talk fast enough, I can con Mrs. Savage into letting us do something like this. If not I bet me and the others can set something like this up in the Noise Farm.”
“Noise Farm?” Nikki smirked at the Naga-like Diamondback.
“It’s what I call the tunnel room under Hawthorne that Razor and Jericho use for their impromptu jam and practice sessions on their guitars.” She ignored the odd feelings of fascination that the elf girl was radiating as best she could, even as she did her level best to avoid staring back. Just because she was a girl didn’t mean she had no appreciation for beauty, and Nichole Reilly had it in abundance.
Nikki smirked, feeling much as Diamondback did, with an added interest in Diamond’s unusual form. It wasn’t an attraction thing so much as it was interesting. She felt Aunghadhail’s curiosity, and wondered how much of her own feelings originated from that ancient spirit. Every so often one of them would bleed over into the other. But two things stood out about the odd girl before her. The first was she could feel two separate emotion sets from her. The second was that the blue and pink ley lines that usually denoted gender were there in equal number, equally strong. It was a truly odd dichotomy, and it really piqued her interest.
“Those two are musicians? Tell me they play better than Jericho dresses.” Toni hopped into one of the hammocks and grinned over at Sandra. “I mean come on, the Thornies have enough issues without having a noise pollution problem.”
Sandra grinned and tested one of the hammocks. “Do you all mind?” At the shaking of heads she slid onto one of the hammocks and coiled up as much as she could in it, about five feet of tail dangling off to trail on the floor. She grinned, displaying the inch long fangs, which, unlike a snake’s, didn’t retract. “Okay, I like this, we are definitely stealing this idea. But no, they don’t play like Jericho dresses. Those two metalheads are actually pretty good at what they do.”
“Small mercies,” Nikki said, wryly. “I’d heard Jericho’s usual wardrobe was bad, but I think he went above and beyond the call of duty today.”
“And he will take every iota of disapproval with a smile on his face.”
Chaka looked over and hopped up to one of the higher hammocks. “All right, so we’re here to learn ‘ya to shield from the Voodoo-Wolves, as Jericho named them. Why does he get to name the bad guys, anyway?”
Nikki looked over as she settled into her own hammock. “Because he was the first one to come up with a name for those rotting abominations?”
Sandra grinned as she semi-propped herself up. “All right, so how does this work? Jericho said that this stuff tends to warp minds.”
Nikki nodded. “Yes, that would be putting things mildly. Myself and Jack seem to have built-in protections, our friend Chou is backed by the Tao and Jericho... Well, Jericho’s blind, but rather like Toni here, it’s hard to inflict madness upon the mad.”
“I am not mad!” Chaka spoke with some heat, looking at her roommate. “I’m delightfully demented. Get it right.”
Sandra grinned evilly. “Riiiiight. Do I detect Jericho genetics somewhere in there? That sounded an awful lot like he does.”
“We have already established that I’m not related to Jericho.”
Nikki giggled, “Sorry Toni, you have claimed thus, but you have yet to produce evidence that proves you right.”
“Who’s side are you on, anyway?” Toni gave the elfin redhead a mock-outraged look.
“Whoever gets me laughing harder. Usually it’s you. Today it’s Diamondback.”
Sandra snickered at the two quarrelling friends. “You two sound like Jericho and Razorback going back and forth.”
Toni looked over suspiciously. “Which one of us sounds like which one?”
“Well,” Sandra began answering truthfully, “Nikki sounds an awful lot like Razorback, although his mercenary tendencies run more toward whoever is prettier, and Jericho just tries to drum up support whenever me and Caitlin tag-team him.”
“Whoever is prettier, huh?” Toni grinned and marched down the hallway. Moments later she came back with a rolled-up poster. “I have the perfect gift for Jack then.” She grinned as she unrolled the infamous poster, the one Peeper has been mass-marketing without her consent that had accrued quite a following, and though Nichole Reilly was loathe to admit it, some nice royalties.
“Toni!” Fey’s outraged shriek echoed through the cottage. “No giving out copies of that poster!”
The chocolate-skinned martial artist grinned evilly. “Ahh, so worth it just for the outraged expressions.”
Sandra shrugged. “Razor beat you to the punch there, Chaka. He already has a copy of that one.”
Nikki actually looked crestfallen. “He does? But... I actually like Razor!”
Toni’s gleeful and triumphant grin faded. “Thus does another good ragging session die a painful and guilt-ridden death.”
Sandra rolled her eyes and shrugged. “I wouldn’t worry about it, Fey. There are two mitigating factors here. One, Jack actually likes you enough to have told you his real name, thus eliminating you as just another poster girl...”
“And two?” Nikki cocked her head curiously.
“None of us have the heart to tell him that said poster wasn’t exactly a consensual thing.” She shrugged. “You may have scared Peeper and Greasy into being more circumspect my dear, but when Razorback finds that little bit out, Peeper’s gonna have to go to the infirmary for the broken bones and to have the poster extracted from his ass. Literally.”
Nikki blinked, and Toni grinned. “Razorback’s unique isn’t he?”
Sandra nodded. “Jack’s never quite what you think, even after you get to know him a while. But he is a good listener. Honestly Fey, if you ever wind up there and see it, he’ll probably chuck it if it made you uncomfortable. Jack’s friends mean more to him than anything.”
The Sidhe girl nodded, somewhat bemused. “So why doesn’t anyone have the heart to tell him about that one?”
Sandra shrugged. “It’s Jack. Everyone just assumes its best not to piss him off, but it’s more the fact that he doesn’t get a whole lot of people willing to actually sit down and talk to him.”
Nikki and Toni nodded. The two girls had seen just how ferocious Jack could actually be, and the contrast of how gentle he was with his friends. They both had to agree that it was best to have the berserker/raptor/speedster as a friend rather than as an enemy.
“Okay,” Diamondback spoke again, “explain this shielding thing, and what exactly we’re up against.”
Nikki sighed. “I was hoping you’d forget about that. Delarose is going to skin me alive for dragging another person into this.”
“I’m not exactly giving the boys much of a choice here.” Diamondback shrugged diffidently. “It’s either include me because I’m not leaving Jericho - who has been my best friend since diaper days - to pull something dangerous without help, or I go anyway.”
Toni grinned, “You know, I can’t imagine where someone would get a fool idea like that into their head.”
Nikki rolled her eyes at her roomie and looked at Diamond seriously. “Okay, but before we start, I have a question. It might affect how this works, so I need to know. I’m getting two completely different emotional reads off you at the same time. I thought I was hallucinating, but they’re separate.”
Sandra groaned. “That would be something I don’t want the psychology freaks finding out about. I don’t know what to call it. It’s me, in both cases, it’s not really multiple personalities, but I dunno how to describe it, honestly. It lets me multitask and hit problems from more than one angle when I’m figuring things out. Jericho’s the only person I ever talked to about it, before we came to Whateley.”
Her whole demeanor seemed to shift, in a way that Toni was accustomed to with Nikki’s shift to Aunghadhail mode. “All right, I can’t sit here while you all talk about me.” The voice was a bit more hard-edged, and slightly deeper, but it was still Diamondback’s voice. Anyone who wasn’t watching her closely would have missed it.
“Oh great, another spirit type?” Toni rolled her eyes.
“Yeah, sure, spirit. I can run with that. Ah, great spirit of snake says you will achieve enlightenment by gnawing on your toes until they bleed.”
Toni grinned. “And will I achieve existential bliss while I’m at it?”
“Sure, why not? Go for it!” Sandra turned to Nikki, “If you start spouting some mystic shit about spirits too I’m leaving. I know you’re some kinda Fae type, but I get enough of that shit from Earth Mother.”
Nikki smirked, “Last I checked spirits weren’t high on my list of options here, but if you’re going for crazy, you’re in the right cottage. And they keep telling me I’m Sidhe.”
“Right, don’t try to extract any promises I might not want kept. Gotcha.” Nikki quirked an eyebrow as Sandra seemed to change demeanors back to normal. She shrugged mildly. “I may be a Wiccan, but daft and uneducated I am not.”
The young Sidhe girl grinned. “Good, that should make things easier. Now listen closely, this is what we’re up against.”
Diamondback listened very closely as Nikki laid out the situation with the Voodoo Wolves, and thankfully let the whole “ancient oaths” aspect of the Sidhe girl’s involvement slide without comment. Nikki found herself going into a bit more detail than she would have otherwise liked, but the few questions Sandra injected were thoughtful, pertinent and insightful. When the tale ended, Sandra was silent, stewing. When all was said and done Nikki could feel the serpentine girl suppressing a cold wash of fear.
Of all the reactions to the Voodoo-Wolves, Sandra and Jericho’s were the healthiest. Both were afraid but controlled, where their friends were eager, or in the case of Jack, simply driven to the raw edge of berserker fury at the mere presence of the things. Toni refused to think about the bleeding horrors they fought, and Chou blocked off her reactions behind a wall of determination. All in all, fear was probably the reaction that would keep them alive. It would keep them from making stupid, cocky mistakes.
“So you’re awfully quiet all of a sudden.” Toni looked at Sandra with a smirk. “Tales of the Voodoos got you a bit too nervous?”
Sandra rolled her eyes at Toni. “I’d be lying if I didn’t think we were all way in over our heads on this one, although it’s not something anyone with a lick of common sense could let go.”
“Great! Check it out, Nikki! Another recruit!”
“The more, the merrier,” Nikki said without conviction. “The chief is going to kill me.”
Diamondback grinned. “Look on the bright side, Nikki. At least the Chief knows that us Outcasts can finish what we start.”
“If you lot are anything like us, that’s what I’m afraid of.”
“Oh no worries about that, oh pointy-eared one.” Sandra smiled at Nikki, the amusement reaching her reptilian-slitted, crystal-blue eyes. “We’re far better at not getting caught than you guys.”
Caitlin saw Nephandus skulking in her direction long before he got near her on her way to Hawthorne. She didn’t know Jean-Armand, per se. She simply recognized him as one of the so-called “Bad Seeds” that included Jadis and Malachai Diabolik, or her personal unfavorite student, Jobe Wilkins. The fact that he’d locked onto her and was following boded ill for her, and given her mood so soon after putting up with Sam Everhart and Elyzia Grimes it boded extremely ill for him if he tried to screw with her.
She brushed a lock of her nearly waist-length, reflective hair from her eyes and glanced back and saw the boy’s odd cyber-golem thing that followed him around like a lost, lovesick puppy, Racking her brains for information was fruitless. She knew Malachai, and had a good idea what he was capable of, but this kid... Besides the fact that he was a typical white-blonde, blue-eyed pretty boy among the low exemplar crowd, she was drawing a blank. Between this and her not knowing much about Razorback’s Ultraviolent status, Caitlin was swearing at herself internally for not paying attention to students who had not graced her range, or detention sessions.
It was little shit like this that was going to get her killed, or worse, tattoo-bonded all because she couldn’t be bothered to pay attention.
Her irritation manifested in sharp arcs of energy in lambent greens, bloody reds and glacial blues. The snow around her seemed to almost flee her presence as the ground seemed to erupt madly with each step. Worry building, she turned towards Hawthorne and the safety of her room. He turned to follow, blithely unconcerned with her knowledge that he was following her. He was one of the cocky ones.
She could run, or see what the devisor boy wanted. Nah. She continued on towards Hawthorne with a purpose. If she got close enough, he’d undoubtedly give up and she wouldn’t have to severely hurt the boy. If he pushed the issue, something she fervently hoped he would not, things could get ugly, and she wasn’t eager to put her self-control to the test unmedicated.
Upon reflection, she’d fallen to the most simple sins, that of pride and complacency. Erik Mahren had been the king of his domain of Range Four and the miscellaneous classes he’d taught, comfortable in his role of teaching the kids to beat people like him in his bailiwick. He’d taught and trained a few hundred mutant children in myriad large and small ways, and gained the respect of the Parkour Hooligans. He’d gotten comfortable, and when things Caitlin should have at least had some basis for understanding happened she found herself floundering, with an incomplete picture.
Take for example the flash of green light at her feet as she stepped across the border of a ten-foot diameter containment circle, two perfect rings drawn in the concrete with symbols she didn’t recognize at first very carefully placed between the two. Erik Mahren was a student of the martial, the physical, and he’d gained a solid understanding of how the various mutants worked, except for the mage types. It was unreasoning prejudice, a common feeling of creeping unease felt by almost every line grunt when confronted with something he could never fully comprehend, yet had to fight. It also left Caitlin absolutely clueless as to her predicament until the currents hiding behind her vision erupted into a storm around her, whipping about her like she was in the eye of a tornado, the edges lashing across her skin, eliciting multicolored arcs of energy to leap from her to the invisible barrier surrounding her, trapping her.
The storm of energy whipping the currents made it hard to concentrate, hard to think, hard to breathe. It was like being weary, pained and euphoric all at once, and she had a hard time seeing past the vortex itself as though the world beyond were concealed by a heat shimmer or nothing more than a fevered illusion. Even as her senses overloaded her body felt energized, charged all at once as the storm grew in intensity and then peaked.
The few seconds felt like hours, and when things finally settled only a thin whirlwind of current flowed around along both circle rings containing her. Nephandus sauntered up, his golem-thing trailing a bit behind, cockily. He had a grin that threatened to take his face as he stopped just outside the circle.
“Ahh, and my prey falls right into my...” Nephandus was cut off mid-sentence by a blur of motion and flash of light, and he fell back on his hind end with little dignity.
Caitlin pre-empted the boy’s gloating rant by slamming her body forward at him. The barrier in the circle flashed emerald green, nearly blinding in intensity as she unleashed superhuman strength against it, bolstered by her own wild mystic aura. The barrier actually gave a bit before snapping back like a rubber band and throwing her to the center of the circle.
Nephandus had actually scrambled back a few feet before beginning to pick himself up off the ground. When he saw the hard gaze watching him from inside the ward, he grinned triumphantly. He came to his feet and sauntered over to the edge of the circle. Had he been more aware of his captive he might not have stood so close. The expression on her face was nothing short of murderous, the runes in her irises beginning to glow a dull orange as they heated.
“I knew that you could not stand against me. Many try; all falter and fail sooner or later.” Nephandus gave her a cocky grin that he considered winning.
Caitlin bit back the series of invective and threats of death and dismemberment. Her response was actually somewhat restrained. “Let me out of this circle or so help me your misery will live on in legend.”
“Really?” Nephandus smirked. “Perhaps you are unaware of who you are dealing with.”
“A trumped up Hogwarts wannabe who’s on the short list for evisceration?”
Nephandus got a briefly fearful expression before he realized that behind the protections of the containment circle, Caitlin was more or less powerless, and he rapidly recovered his confidence. “I am Nephandus, bane of the light and the end of hope! I am the seed of darkness that cannot be stopped.”
Nephandus was getting a solid rant rolling when he stopped abruptly with an irritated look. “Where the hell are you, Mal?”
Caitlin rolled her eyes and began stalking the circle, studying the now-exposed lines and runes for weak points and imperfections she could use to breach the mystic containment. Mal could only have been Malachai Diabolik, one of her erstwhile students who had earned frequent flyer miles on the detention express.
Nephandus reached up to his ear and tapped a devise. “Mal, where are you?” A moment of silence was punctuated with another “Mal?”
“What’s the matter, Blondie, backup get caught in traffic?” Caitlin managed to inject a cheery note to her voice while snarling at the vortex of energy whipping about the nearly-perfect circle. It had imperfections, but none solidly screwed up enough for her to exploit.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be back for you. Don’t bother trying to escape, that circle is perfect.” Nephandus turned and began walking back towards Melville with his cybernetic Golem in tow.
Caitlin said nothing as she watched the boy walk away. Sheer frustration prompted the renewed attack on the energy barrier as she slammed her fists and bolt after bolt of eldritch energy into the shield. It didn’t help, but it made her feel better.
Adrienne and Janine walked into the Hawthorne section of the tunnels apprehensively, looking for the specific spot where they would probably find their Outcast buddies. The Fury Twins were antsy and nervous, half-expecting rejection as they heard the telltale riff plays that signified Jericho and Razorback prepping and tuning their guitars. The two of them turned the final corner and watched for a few moments as the boys finished setting their instruments, and Razorback immediately slammed out the opening riffs to “Enter Sandman.”
The twins looked around, seeking as the two boys ripped out the first minute of the song, playing only the instrumentals. Diamondback wasn’t there, which was who they were looking for, and the only thing keeping the two of them there was that rare feeling of excited happiness that accompanied the two boys whenever they got a chance to play their music. For the Fury Twins, and their empathic mirror trait, the good vibes coming off the Devisor and Rager playing the music was like a drug. Moments of happiness for them were rare and treasured things, even if they only felt them vicariously for the most part.
“Hey you two, how’s it going?” Jericho didn’t look up as he and Razorback made some final adjustments on the guitars.
Deimos smiled despite herself at the blind Devisor boy. Jericho was a rare one, not exactly boyfriend materiel, but he was one of the rare kids who could shrug off the terror aura that the sisters seemed to exude constantly. He also couldn’t care less whether his friends were among the beautiful people or wholly monstrous.
“Not bad Joe, we were just in the neighborhood and we, me and my sister, were wondering if it would be okay if we sat in on your jam session you guys do down here.”
Jericho finished adjusting the instruments and nodded to himself before standing. Razorback simply began nodding in response to her question.
“Me compadre and I consider the two of you always welcome Janine. Besides, you look out for Sandra when you can, and even if I didn’t like you, which I do, that’s enough to leave a spot open when you two feel like popping in.”
Razorback gave a chirp and signed something to the tune of –Plus they’re cute, so who cares?- when Joseph Turner absently swatted him. “Bad Lizard, no cookie.”
Razorback started into his seal-like barking laughter and waved the pair over. Razorback was always inappropriate in the humor department, and the two of them had learned to take his demented behavior with the same grain of salt as they did Jericho’s wardrobe.
-Jimmy will be down here with the usual suspects after dinner tonight. Mind helping me set up Sandra’s Microphone?-
Phobos looked over at her sister. “Sandra sings? I thought you were joking about that.”
“And damn well if I do say so myself,” Jericho interjected. “She just doesn’t know we’ll be making her sing for the Thornies tonight. Girl needs to quit being so bloody insular.”
“I did not know that.”
-Sandra’s not exactly known for being a social butterfly, or a performer type. But she did promise.-
“If by promise you mean was browbeaten by you...”
-Volunteered, conscripted, what’s the difference?-
Deimos just laughed.
Phobos looked thoughtful, then asked “Who all is invited to these little concerts you guys do?”
“Whoever wants to come, and can be civil with everyone, so don’t bring Aries, Counterpoint or any of the pricklings who hate on a GSD.” Jericho thought about it for a second. “That was a bad choice of words, given the present company. Anyone who would point at you two, or Razorback and utter the word ‘freak’ is unwelcome at our jam sessions.”
“Okay, mind if I ask a friend along?”
“Who you got in mind?”
Phobos thought about it for a moment. “Ayla from Poe.”
-The Goodkind kid?-
Phobos screwed up her face. “Yeah that’s the one. She’s been really nice to me, and she gets shit on by pretty much everyone we dislike anyway...”
Even Deimos looked doubtful, but Jericho nodded his head.
“Okay, Adrienne, we’ll give her a shot. Just warn her what she’s walking into ok? I know she’s doing me good with my medkits I was selling at the Science Fair, but if she pitches a fit, she’s out.”
“Yeah, I expected that. I think she’ll behave.”
“Bring her along then, the more the merrier.”
Razorback nodded. –I’ll behave too. Maybe the Kimbazoids will pop down too, who knows?-
Deimos shrugged, then moved down to help Razorback set up the microphone amps, moving quickly with her four hands. “We’ll see. You go ahead sis, I’ll help the guys set up back here.”
“Alrighty.” Phobos walked out of the area feeling somewhat happy, maybe today would be a good one.
“All right, now fill in the sections with that rubbery energy I showed you.” Fey watched as Diamondback carefully yet rapidly solidified the shield meant to protect her mind from the warping reality infection that made the Voodoo Wolves what they were. It wasn’t the same as a shield against standard telepathic or mystic onslaught, it was more delicate, and if created correctly, far more durable for its purpose. Voodoo Wolves degraded the effectiveness of normal shields rapidly. Bunker was getting by on pure, pissed-off stubbornness, but that could only go so far.
“How’s that?” Sandra concentrated slightly before tying off the energy. She looked over at Chaka, who was idly spinning her practice kukri on her fingertip like a helicopter blade. How Chaka was able to get the oddly-curved blade to do that while appearing so bored out of her mind made her more than a bit curious.
“Not bad, Jericho wasn’t kidding when he said you picked up on things quickly.” Fey gave her serpentine student one of her patented “melt-the-room” smiles. “Practice that, and you should be able to hold it pretty much indefinitely.”
“Good. Now at least I won’t have to worry about going bugnuts if those things pop up near me. From what I gathered everyone in your little Wild Bunch is probably on top of this ‘Bastard’s’ shitlist.”
“Yeah, that is a good bet.” Nikki grimaced slightly. “I never thought when I came to Whateley I’d be getting hit with something like the Alphas, much less this level of insanity.
“Admit it, you thrive on the attention.” Chaka grinned, looking over at her roommate. “At least things never get boring around here.”
“Be careful, or your wardrobe might abruptly change to match your cousin’s.”
“I am not related to Jericho!” Chaka glared at Nikki. “I have far too much fashion sense to be related to him.”
“So do Jericho’s parents, but there you go.” Sandra gave a mischievous smile. “Just think Chaka, all those lovely off-the-wall plaids, and the kilts... Your future’s so garish I gotta wear shades!”
“You two are never, ever going to let this go, are you?”
“Not a chance in Hell.” Nikki grinned evilly.
“I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to.” Diamondback giggled a little bit.
"Humpf! For that, I'm not finishing that belly bootie that I was knitting for you!"
Sandra looked at Chaka snootily, and blew a forked-tongue raspberry at her.
"You know, there are places where that would make you VERY popular." Toni gave a mock-leer as she said it.
“You’re just jealous that you’re not in my league of awesome sexiness.” At the odd looks from the two Kimbas Diamondback started giggling again. Nikki simply said nothing, going about her business of pretending not to be part of the conversation.
Toni just shook her head. “Are you all this bad over at the Outcast table?”
Sandra buffed her nails on her blouse and smiled. “Worse. I’m on good behavior today, Jack’s not being given ammo here or we’d be seeing nonstop lewd comments and Cait’s not here to cuss like a sailor.”
"Hey, I'm from Baltimore. Most of the sailors that I've heard talk were downright prissy."
"Really? All the sailors I know use 'fuck' to punctuate most of their sentences. Cait just uses all the other words too, rather than getting caught up in one of them."
"You've obviously never heard a B-town boy talk. By comparison, what you said IS prissy."
"Eh, I'm from Texas, so I learned the traditional ways of cussing."
Chaka chuckled lightly, "Remember, if they UNDERSTAND what you're saying, then it's not good cussing. Hell, Rap is really just getting paid to cuss on tape."
Sandra grimaced, "Ugh, rap, no thanks, I'll stick to my Gothy music and heavy metal."
"You DO know that Goth music is just a conspiracy by the drug companies to increase the demand for anti-depression medication, don't you?"
"You have never heard of Nightwish, obviously."
"Just a diversionary technique. THEY want you hooked on Prozac."
Nikki looked up curiously. “Cait, this mysterious friend I hear oft-mentioned and never seen? Another personality hidden amongst your crew, perhaps passed from one to the other in times of distress?”
Chaka couldn’t resist and cut in herself, "It's a 'Man who never was' scam isn't it? You're making like there's another student, and you're secretly eating all her desserts, right?"
Sandra giggled again and composed herself for a rather serious, "Just because you two are unaware of your surroundings is no reason to go off and make baseless accusations!”
"I'm aware of my surroundings! Would I be wearing this T-shirt, if I wasn't in sunny Albuquerque?"
“Yeah, Chaka, about that shirt, Jericho wears that as part of his Tuesday best.”
"I can forensically prove that this was never owned by Jericho."
"No but it DOES indicate you two have similar clothing styles..."
Chaka harrumphed, "My proof? No one is vomiting onto the table. Quod Erat Demonstrandum. Or Zippidity Do-Dah. Whatever."
“I just thought you’d want to know, seeing how you two are related and stuff.”
"Be warned snake-girl! I know Mongoose kung fu!"
"That's fine, I skipped snake style kung fu and went straight to Jujitsu."
"Yeah, nothing like 'upgrading' to the nerfball of the martial arts."
"I like to think of it as lying through my teeth so you won't be expecting the awesome, hurricane-like power of my three months of Aikido."
"You mean that you didn't take the Savate course?"
Diamondback smirked and withdrew a tarot deck from her jacket, “Nah, not my style. Pick a card.” She grinned evilly, showing off her fangs.
"Nah, nah, I'm not buying that one! I know that trick! I pick a card, and three months later, I learn that you've run up $50,000 on my credit card! Get away from me, Lyndon LaRouche!"
"Hmmmm, perhaps I shouldn't have tipped my hand with Hekate until after I’d looted your booty."
Chaka looked thoughtful. “Should'a been 'Get thee behind me, Lyndon LaRouche’.”
“Too late, you failed the invocation; there'll be no getting rid of me now.”
"Besides, I got too many people trying to loot my booty. Get in line, Scaly McSnakypants."
Sandra looked around the common room curiously, noting a helplessly giggling redhead trying to get her breathing back under control. Why help when you can make things worse, after all? “Is this line you speak of invisible? Perhaps in spirit only?”
Chaka grinned as Nikki continued giggling. "It's lined up around the building."
“But it’s all Peeper and Greasy and holographic clones of them”
“But it’s THERE!”
“Poor girl, you don’t know what you’re missing.” Diamondback gave a theatrical sigh and followed up with a wicked smile. “Ah well, looks like I’ll just have to loot someone else's booty then.”
"Yeah, right. Just tell Jericho that Aunt Mildred says that it's his mother's turn to bring the sweet tater pie to the family dinner this year."
Sandra got a shocked look on her face. "Your family suicidal? Jericho’s mother near a stove? Are you MAD???"
"Please! Just 'cuz you melanin-deprived sorts can't take Soul Food is no reason to get down on God's Own People!"
"No Toni, Mama Turner's awesome, and I love her, but you don't ever let that woman into a kitchen, she screws up boiling WATER! I shit you not!"
Toni grinned wider. "Well then, there's your problem! You haven't been eating right! Obviously, several good meals of Mama Turner's Okra Surprise will fix you right up!"
"Oh hell no, last time I did that I turned green, see?” Sandra held up a delicately scaled arm, colored emerald-green with black diamonds running along the back.
"And more will make you right! "Either that, or you'll complete the transformation, eat the entire Sunnydale High graduating class, and become a God."
Sandra giggled despite herself, and actually considered. “You know, that plan actually has some potential...”
“No... stop... please, I can’t... take any more.” The giggling elf finally caught the ability to breathe again as the two mouths went silent for a few seconds.
“Should we let her catch her breath?” Diamondback looked at the giggling redhead clinically.
“Probably, if she passes out and we have to wake her, it’ll be like trying to tiptoe around a PMSing elf.”
“HEY!”
Diamondback snickered as Fey went from giggly to indignant almost instantaneously. “Feeling a mite mercurial today oh Sidhely one?”
“I’ll show you mercurial you dirty, rotten...” The three girls broke down to giggling again.
Sharisha and Vanessa watched the three gigglers from the common-room door, and unfortunately Sharisha was a less than stunning example of tolerance. Vanessa, or Vox to the campus at large, hoped her roommate wouldn’t start in today. So far as that hope went she was doomed to be utterly disappointed as her roommate’s mouth engaged before her brain did upon seeing the GSD girl with the two Kimbas.
“Oh great, it’s bad enough that I gotta put up with a buncha boys pretending to be women in my cottage, but now I have to deal with ‘em inviting the freaks in, too? What kinda bullshit is this?” Sharisha glared at the two Kimbas and their “guest.”
Nikki and Chaka froze, absolutely silent and still as panic set in around their brains trying to process whether or not Sharisha had actually broken one of the cardinal rules of Poe Cottage. Every time they flipped the statement around in their brains, they came to the same conclusion, and they were at a loss for how to respond. Sharisha was a card-carrying bigot where the TG kids were concerned, and they were used to dealing with her, and snarling right back at her, but she’d said it in the open next to Diamondback. Both girls had decided that Diamond was pretty cool, but she was a complete unknown, and no matter HOW cool someone seemed to be, you didn’t share with people not from Poe without risking blowing the cover for everyone there.
Sandra’s eyes popped out as Sharisha hit her two major psychological triggers, and she had a panic moment, withdrawing and leaving “Ryan,” the other half of her personality to pick up the slack. Not truly another personality in the conventional psychological sense, Ryan was more akin to the second processor of a computer, handling tasks and sharing the load equally with “his” counterpart. The first thing Sandra’s other realized was the sudden onslaught of panic and nervous look from both Toni and Nikki, like they were in shock that Sharisha would say something, specifically THAT, in front of an outsider. The other thing she realized was that both statements applied equally to her.
Sandra slid out of the hammock she’d commandeered and slithered forward to the two girls who were standing in the doorway. She immediately dismissed Vox, as the girl was giving the loudmouth an equally horrified look. It didn’t take a freaking genius to guess that the two Kimbas were pretty much in the same boat she was given the comments and reactions.
“What do you want, freak?” Sharisha’s attitude was evident, and she was used to the shy, lone Whitman girls who just got out of the way of the more normal-looking people on Campus. She’d just never dealt with Diamondback before.
The slap sounded like a whipcrack, and Sharisha’s head actually hit the wall as Diamond used her insane reflexes to move her arm faster than her opponent could track. “That’s for the freak comment.”
When Sharisha looked back up, she was somewhat stunned as Diamondback grabbed her and shoved her into the wall, again. “And I’ll be seeing your fat, stupid ass in Arena ’77 for outing people!”
Chaka had recovered enough to begin bounding forward when Sandra turned and slithered back to the hammocks, sitting on a lower one and giving Sharisha the evil eye while the large, black girl stood there with a startled and semi-panicked look in her eye. “Beat it, bitch or I’m gonna Chou-slap your stupid, bigoted ass!”
Nikki stood up as well, glaring at Sharisha, fury writ plainly on her face. “I have about had it with you. Get out of my sight or I will remove you!”
Sandra smiled evilly at Sharisha. “I’d get going girly, I think your cottage-mates are about done with you. And if you wanna play now, I’ve got one or two Get-out-of-Jail cards with Delarose I can use for beating you back into the hospital. Or I could just tell the rest of Whitman that it’s open season.”
Sharisha simply turned, and walked away, followed by Vox, who gave an apologetic look before following. She couldn’t even say anything to Diamondback, as Sharisha had violated a cardinal rule of the cottage, and the snake-girl had unknowingly taken her to task for it.
Nikki and Toni turned to Sandra curiously. Sandra forestalled them from speaking about the incident. “Look, I dunno the whole story behind what she said, but if you wanna talk, you aren’t going to catch shit from me, Jack or Joe. For now, let’s just get back to the shielding and collect our thoughts, shall we?”
Nikki and Toni nodded slightly as the two Kimbas went back to the lesson.
Sometimes salvation comes bearing an odd face, or an unexpected ability. In Caitlin’s case salvation seemed to come in the form of a precocious twelve-year-old student of the mystic arts named Clover. The petite child’s blonde curls and innocent, crystal-blue eyes were topped by a black, conical ‘witch hat’. The little girl was skipping towards Caitlin in one of her random “Looking for Kewl Stuff” adventures. Fortunately Clover’s definition of cool was a lot simpler than that of the older kids’.
Clover stopped about six feet away from the circle perimeter. “Hi!”
“Hey Clover.” Caitlin’s mind turned over, trying to think of ways to get some help.
“How did you know my name?”
Telling the little girl the truth, that Caitlin was really “The big Meanie” who had once chased her, Abra and Pally with a bucket of water wanting to see who’d melt wasn’t exactly bright. Nevermind as Mahren, she’d scared Clover into full-on probability mangler mode on too many occasions. Then there was the fact that sharing would run counter to the whole point of playing at being a teenager to begin with... “I know Miss Grimes. I was wondering if you could do me a bit of a favor.”
“Grimsy says I’m not s’posed to let people in circles out of the circles.”
“Would it help if I said Nephandus trapped me in here?”
“NO! Not letting out anything Jay-Arm the wonder-nerd trapped! Not again!”
Caitlin sighed, so much for that option. “Can you go grab something for me?”
“What?”
“My cell phone. If you go grab it and I can get someone out here to help me I’ll give you fifty bucks.” Caitlin was grasping at straws, and she knew that if it came down to it, she would use lethal force to keep Nephandus from binding her.
“Yer Kiddin,’ right? You’re trapped in a binding circle, and you want a cell phone?” The young girl’s baffled expression was like a splash of cold water for Caitlin’s frantically moving mind.
Despite herself, she started chuckling. “Good God, since you put it that way, it does sound a bit daft, doesn’t it?”
“A little bit. So how do I know you’re not really some kind of monster that looks like a person wanting out so you can eat me?”
“Do you know Gunny Bardue?”
“Well, YA! He’s the old guy in charge of the crazy kids who play with guns!”
“Close enough. Can you go find him? He’ll be able to verify that I’m a student and not a demon, okay?”
Clover gave Caitlin a purely skeptical look until the tall, sparky, Amazonian girl reached into her pocket and produced a fifty dollar bill gingerly and set it on the ground at her feet. A sudden surge caused it to go metallic and melt into a pile of thin slag. Caitlin sighed and withdrew a second one, pretty much the remainder of her petty cash.
“How many demons do you know carry ready cash and ask for help from cranky old marines who know jack about the mystic arts?”
Clover blinked and nodded slowly. It made sense, and the big girl was right. Clover wasn’t really considering that Caitlin was counting on the idea that not too many mystic nasties dealt in dead presidents. “Where did you say he was again?”
Outside Hawthorne Cottage, three voodoo wolves crept into the back area, near the basement windows. Their mission was simple, snatch and dash on the artificer, and possibly infect a student or two. They pried open one of the basement room windows, the one they had noted the artificer inside, usually. The medallions protecting them from the senses of their enemies were intact as they slid into the room, finding it empty.
"Excuse me, what precisely do you three think you’re doing in here?” The abrupt voice of the unassuming, balding man erupted between them, startling them into their unholy half-forms in a frenzy of attack, which passed through Fubar’s astral body with no effects.
“Temper, temper boys. You don’t belong here.” It was the only warning anyone had before a massive pulse of psychic energy erupted, and the first voodoo, a huge Kodiak bear-thing contracted, then imploded in a spray of black ichor. When the mess cleared, the two remaining Voodoos stared at the walnut-sized compacted mass of flesh and bone, which was all that remained of their massive companion, in Louis’ hand. “Sorry to say, I’m not letting you leave here alive.”
The two Voodoo-Wolves fled, straight into the arms of Sara Waite, whom he had alerted, and the new were-cougar girl who had moved in. Louis didn’t exactly trust the demon-girl, but he trusted her a lot more than the proven threat the voodoos had manifested. The yowling, screaming and inappropriate giggling gave testament to just how much he’d panicked the voodoo wolves. They were fleeing so fast they failed to put up a real fight.
When the noise died down Louis stuck his head out into the hallway. “Sara, would you do me a favor and clean up the mess, please? I need to talk to Delarose.”
“Sure, I can do that.”
Caitlin saw the hyperactive form of Clover darting back toward her with a big ‘ol grin on her face. Behind her, face like a storm cloud, was Gunnery Sergeant Oscar Bardue, in his full “I was ready to get off campus and go golfing” glory. Honestly, when she thought about it, Gunny’s golfing attire ranked only slightly below Jericho’s in the eye-throttling department. Big, burly black men were never meant to wear that much plaid and khaki in conjunction.
God Gunny, I thought I’d burned that outfit a year ago.” Caitlin gave an evil grin.
“Yes, and I took replacing it out of your paycheck. Thanks for the quality upgrade by the way.” Gunny Bardue’s angry demeanor softened a bit. “The little bit here tells me you got yourself into a sticky one.”
“I’m not little!”
Caitlin just chuckled at Clover’s outburst. “Yeah, Nephandus’ circle. Little punk was waiting for me. I’m inside it, which seems to be screwing with my ability to identify and bust out of it.”
“So how am I supposed to let you out?” Bardue looked at the elaborate, glowing circle superimposed on the snow.
“How the hell should I know? Break the circle?”
“No! Don’t just break a circle!” Clover gave a panicked look as Bardue reached a foot forward to scuff the mark. “If you break the wrong kind of circle it’ll explode!”
Bardue froze in place, looking at the diminutive little girl who was rapidly backing away from the pair. “All right, Clover. You’re the magic student. How do we break this without it blowing up in our faces?”
“Ummmm...”
Caitlin sighed. “You don’t know, do you?”
“No?” Clover almost cringed as Caitlin and Bardue gave each other knowing, annoyed glances. “I’m not old enough to do the REAL magic stuff! All my magic class is mostly learning how to gather and store essence!”
“You know, we probably should have thought of that before we asked the junior high kid.” Gunny looked rather rueful.
“Yeah? Since when did we ever pay much attention to how the mumbo-jumbo monkeys do business?”
“HEY!”
Bardue smirked at Clover’s outrage. “Watch it Caitlin, you’re joining the ranks of mumbo and jumbo yourself from what I understand.”
“Gee, thanks for the support, DAD!”
“Watch your tone with me, young lady, you’re not too old to put across my knee.” The elder black man jerked his head meaningfully at Clover, who looked a mite confused.
Caitlin bit back the scathing retort and all the swearing that was to accompany it when she caught his meaning. She was supposed to be a student. “All right,” she ground out, “I guess there’s no help for it. Can you get Grimes or one of the other teachers from the magic department to come here and pop me out?”
“Wish I could Caitlin, but everyone else has gone home, and Westmont had to go take care of some business back in England. It’s my duty night, so you’re lucky Goldilocks here found me.”
“HEY!”
“So what do I do? Wait for Nephandus to get his act together and let me out his way?”
Gunny shook his head. “If push comes to shove I’ll call Carson herself and have her pop the cage. But for now I have another idea. It’ll require another student, but I have a good feeling about her. Besides, if I recall correctly from Westmont’s tales the girl owes you her ass.”
Caitlin wisely refrained from correcting Gunny that students on occasion owed Mahren their asses.
“Okay, you’re the boss. I’m just gonna stand here and plan where I’m hiding the body tonight.”
“You are NOT to maim or kill Jean-Armand.” Bardue’s statement left no room for argument, and even Clover caught the nearly silent “even if the useless little turd richly deserves it.”
Clover blinked. “Can I have my fifty bucks now?”
“Once the circle’s down it’s yours kiddo. I’m not exactly in a position to hand it over yet.” Caitlin pointed at the bill in the snow at her feet.
Bardue popped open a cell phone and dialed. After a brief moment he began talking. “Mrs. Horton? Yeah it’s Bardue... No ma’am, none of your kids have gotten in trouble... No, I haven’t been avoiding you. Yeah, I’m still seeing Mrs. Cantrel...” Bardue gave Caitlin a murderous glare when the shocked look crossed her face, mouthing “I know where you sleep” at his erstwhile adoptee. “Yeah, actually I was wondering if I could borrow Miss Reilly. Crap. She’s gone? Where? Dammit. I don’t have time to track her down. Are any of her friends on Security Auxiliary duty there? Yeah, I’m on the trails halfway between Poe and the Thorny Den, send her off. Thanks.”
“Cantrel?” Caitlin gave Bardue a bemused look.
“Shut it you. I got enough problems without you and the others making sarcastic comments.”
“Would I do that?”
Bardue’s glare only served to elicit a much-needed laugh from Caitlin’s throat as Clover pretended not to understand what the two were speaking of. Just because she wasn’t old enough to be in high school didn’t mean she didn’t understand what was being said. Fortunately her oft-ignored common sense gene kicked in and she kept her mouth shut, keeping the wide-eyed, innocent expression on while taking mental notes to tell Abra and Pally.
Chou was cold and irritated as she walked back towards Hawthorne Cottage. Yet another misfire trying to spend time with Molly had occurred when Mrs. Horton had told her that she was to go meet Gunny Bardue. Honestly she’d been having enough trouble with Fitzsimmons that she was leery about meeting any of the other combat instructors, and her guardians had showed a complete disdain on Parent’s day when during their walk they passed by the gun ranges. She didn’t want to deal with them again if the old, crazy Range Instructor decided he wanted to lampoon her for his classes.
What she found wasn’t what she expected, Bardue dressed like he was on a golf course, little Clover, bedecked in her precious witch hat, or that odd, sparking girl with the runed eyes who’d told her how to beat Nex looking like she was in a barely-controlled fury. As she approached, the old man grinned widely.
“You called for me Sir?” Chou gave Gunny a respectful bow.
“Miss Lee, thank you for arriving so promptly. We seem to have a problem, and we need someone with a bit more mystic sense and training than these two young ladies.” Bardue indicated the circle.
Chou looked at the circle and the girl inside, and for once, simply tapped into the Tao immediately.
Good girl, you’re learning faster than I had hoped. Destiny’s Wave slipped in her silent approval.
It was like the tapestry opened. Gunny Bardue, the grizzled old teacher was an open book and she saw that he was as hard as he acted. She also saw that he cared, and it was hard not to liken him to a bear protecting its cubs. It was painfully clear to her that this one would cheerfully kill and die for the kids on campus.
Clover was in four places at once in the tapestry as Chou tracked the horrific mangling of fate and probability that flowed in her wake, and yet it seemed that it was a natural thing, for the Tao demanded order and chaos in equal measure, and the child absolutely exemplified chaos in an ordered place. She wasn’t predestined to become good or evil, but both and neither, an oddity demanded by her unique place in the tapestry. She simply was a necessary random element.
The odd girl she knew, but it still almost hurt to see and feel the gaping wound in the tapestry that leaked pure rage, grief and frustration, as well as pain. It was contained in a binding that would cause the wound to heal, but the Tao rebelled against the healing, as it would result in an aberrant scar that was like a cancer upon the rest. She couldn’t feel the girl in the Tao, merely the absence of where she SHOULD be, and why that primal force wanted her released rather than removed was beyond her. Fortunately for Chou’s ailing conscience, she would rather not have to kill the girl. The Tao’s will would be done.
While the girl watched her intently, with the runes of her eyes smoldering like hot coals, Chou stepped forward and drew Destiny’s Wave, finding the weakest point in the circle, and gently digging the blade a bare millimeter into the power flows and the lines on the ground. She simply drew back, and the circle died, an event heralded by the odd girl whooping, and darting away from the area in which she had been trapped.
“I’d hug you, but I’m afraid of barbecuing you by accident.” Caitlin gave her a look of genuine gratitude. “You have just made my list of decent humans.”
Chou gave a slight smile. “And what are most humans to you?”
“Oxygen thieves. Mutants too, breathing my precious air…” She said it so wryly, like an old running gag that it was very hard for Chou to feel offended, so she let it go with a smirk.
“So who did this to you?”
“Someone who’s gonna…”
“Caitlin…” Gunny actually growled at his adoptee.
“…Wish I’d never been born when he comes back to claim his victory.” She patently ignored the suspicious evil-eye that Bardue shot in her direction.
“No killing or maiming.”
“You said nothing about humiliating.”
“True.”
“Or injuring badly.”
“Don’t push yer luck.”
Caitlin abruptly looked up. “Speak of the devil.” She bolted off into the darkness with a manic speed that was surprising, leaving a trail of Technicolor energy and weird occurrences as she tackled Nephandus’ golem and literally beat it unmoving while the boy watched in shock, aghast that she somehow managed to escape his power. The thing literally shrieked in agony every time her aura flared.
Sadly for him he wasn’t able to capitalize on her distraction when Chou, who was following closely, drop-kicked him. Caitlin looked up as she did so. “Aww, come on! I wanted to at least pummel him a little!” She looked down at the golem and delivered another bone-pulverizing punch to the things stone/cybernetic skull. The sudden discharge of energy caused the whole thing to convulse as it seemed to go limp, dead, the spirit inside torn from its moorings and fleeing from the chaotic storm that was Caitlin in the Astral Plane.
“Should have gone after him first.”
“I overestimated the tactical threat this stupid golem presented.”
“Sucks to be you.” Chou grinned.
“Ow, my face! You kicked me in the face!” For some reason neither Caitlin, nor Chou felt horrifically sympathetic.
“You’re lucky Gunny Bardue said I can’t knife you.”
Nephandus squeaked and scrambled away, only to have Caitlin grab his leg and drag him back. He hastily grounded out the arc of energy that ripped down her arm towards his foot.
“Thought so,” Caitlin grunted as she began checking him for random bits and bytes that caused her odd current-vision to act up. “Circe does the same thing.”
“Hey! Those are mine!” Nephandus went wide-eyed and tried to protest as Caitlin began removing every mystic focus, charm and devise on his person, dropping them into a small pile. She simply shoved his hands away as he went into an absolute panic.
“Shut it Nephandus. You are going to walk over to Gunny Bardue over there. Now. If you fail to be at his side swiftly, I am going to give in to my inner maniac and DISMEMBER YOU!” Caitlin shrieked the last words into his face.
Chou looked on, half-amused, half-horrified as Jean-Armand very rapidly retreated to the irritated form of Gunny Bardue. “Why exactly are we terrorizing the Bad Seed nitwit again?”
“Butthead there decided that I’d look good in mind-slave. I wanted to disabuse him of the idea.”
“And you didn’t kill him anyway? I’m impressed with your restraint.”
“Gunny there reminded me indirectly of a promise I made to Carson a while back.”
Chou looked curious. “May I ask what this promise was?”
“I’d rather not go into it, but it more or less means I need to try to keep my temper very firmly in check, unless doing otherwise means I’m gonna die.”
“Are you a rager?”
Caitlin sighed. “More or less. I have a variation on intermittent explosive disorder, and mine’s violent. Clue it in with a healthy dose of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, and you can guess that my life can be interesting.”
“Ewwwww.”
“Yeah.” Caitlin gathered Nephandus’ items, forced all of the odd energy she seemed to collect into her hands, and loosed it on the pile. The results were.. spectacular, as they melted, froze, crystallized, shattered, then disintegrated with an unholy shriek while Nephandus wailed in protest.
“I gather some of that was valuable.”
Caitlin shrugged. “He really shouldn’t have tried to play with me tonight. I was already in a bad mood.”
“I noticed.” Chou looked back at Gunny Bardue, who had Nephandus grasped by one shoulder and was speaking very quietly to the boy, whose face was going whiter than it already was. “Think we should go back?”
“Give Gunny a sec to talk to Nephandus. I need to calm down a bit. When it comes right down to it, even on my best day I couldn’t hold a candle to the intimidation Gunny’s capable of during one of his quiet chats with someone.”
“Remind me not to anger him.”
Caitlin flashed a patently evil grin. “No worries there. You have to do something spectacularly stupid to get him going for real.”
“Does this particular incident count?”
“Oh yes. This counts in a bigger way than he’s used to dealing with.”
Chou looked back at Nephandus critically, made sure no one else was close enough to overhear, then turned back to Caitlin. “I think we should talk when all is said and done.”
“Alright. You’ve earned that much at the very least. Thanks by the way. I appreciate the help.”
Chou nodded. “You’re welcome. I’m just glad you seem more reasonable now than you did a few moments ago.”
Caitlin nodded. “Yeah, sorry. I have this knack for shaky first impressions, although I think I’m losing my touch. No one I’ve met since I manifested has hated me on contact.”
“Give it time. I have a feeling, given your reaction to Nephandus there, that there’s going to be a line at the door to kick your ass.”
Caitlin grinned, this time with actual amusement. “Well at least I won’t get bored.”
“Want a few of my enemies? I have the Alphas if you want them.”
“Would I actually have to touch any of them?”
“Maybe in hand-to-hand.”
Caitlin looked grossly unenthused. She looked over at Gunny and Nephandus, and noted the expressions. “Oops, there’s our cue.”
The two girls walked back towards Bardue and a very unhappy Nephandus and stopped about ten feet away as the old man gave Jean-Armand the death-glare he reserved for stupid people who are pushing the boundaries of “going to die.” The Bad Seed mage flinched as the teacher began speaking.
“You have a choice now, boy. You can answer to my daughter here for what you were going to do to her, or you can face Carson as soon as I call her back onto campus.” Bardue’s growl could have made a mindless zombie scream in terror and flee for its existence.
“If he is smart he’ll face Carson,” Chou shrugged.
Caitlin just started chuckling evilly. “Oh no, nothing I can do would hold a candle to Carson or Delarose in a full fury.”
Chou raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She was trying to hear Nephandus’ mumbled response.
“I’m sorry, boyo, I didn’t quite hear you.”
“I’ll face your daughter.”
“Wise choice. Stupid choice, but wiser than trying to talk past Carson.” Gunny turned his back on the miserable mage. “Let’s go Clover. Nothing to see here.”
Clover looked torn, and was tightly clutching the fifty she’d retrieved from the snow in both hands. She wanted to see Jay-Arm get pasted, but she knew better than to argue as she followed.
“Nice witch’s hat.” Chou gave the smaller girl a nod.
Clover beamed at her as Bardue led her back in the direction of Dickinson.
As soon as Bardue was gone, Nephandus tried to run. Unfortunately he wasn’t fast enough and he found himself rapidly unconscious in the snow with an angry amazon and a petite Chinese girl standing over him. “You are SO lucky he said I can’t maim you.”
Caitlin looked over at Chou, “Did you have to knock him out so quick again? It’s not nearly as fun stuffing an old sock in their mouths when they’re unconscious!”
“Then I guess I can call it mercy on my part.” Chou couldn’t shake this nagging feeling of uneasy familiarity that had been building up between them since she cut the circle. “Do I know you?”
“I hope not, because I know you.” The whole conversation was kind of creepy, considering that Caitlin’s voice sounded insanely similar to Destiny’s Wave on the occasions she deigned to speak out loud.
Chou cocked her head, curiously. “You helped me with Nex, but there’s something else there, isn’t there?”
Caitlin sighed as she gave the unconscious form in the snow a sour look. "Last time I saw your face it was with that blade in my chest. Your eyes were different though. You here to do it again?"
"Not that I am aware of. Why, do I need to?"
"Hell, I don't even know why ya did it the first time." Caitlin gave the girl an odd once-over, really taking in her features for the first time, while replaying memories of a past life in her mind.
“Well, as far as I know I wasn't the one who did it, so don't blame me.”
"At the time it was a mercy, so I ain't going to bitch. Help me with this will ya?" Caitlin wandered over and hoisted Nephandus’ stone and steel golem onto her shoulder while Chou looked in askance in Gunny’s direction, unsure if this was okay. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to kill anything but numbnuts there’s ego.”
"I'm okay with that, besides I think you and I need to talk, and not just about getting trapped in circles.”
Caitlin nodded once, her eyes flickering over to the jade blade held by the smaller girl. "Yeah, probably. Name's Caitlin. Thanks for the help."
“Chou, but then you knew that, didn’t you?”
"Yup. But still, you done me a good turn so I'm more than inclined to be polite."
“I am okay with that.” Chou looked down at Nephandus’ form on the ground. “Well, let’s take out the garbage and see if we can’t figure this out.”
“Sounds like a plan. You grab Blondie, I’ll carry rockass here. I know where the duct tape is where we’re going.”
“Ah, well then lead on.” Chou hoisted Nephandus uneasily, as the boy was somewhat bigger than she was.
Chou watched Caitlin half-drag, half-carry the stone form of the golem through the snow in the direction of the Kirby building. Every now and again the thing would jerk abruptly as Caitlin’s mad aura interacted with it.
“Nice work on the circle, by the way. I need to figure out how to bust those from the inside sooner or later.”
“Well it…” Chou huffed a bit, then repositioned Nephandus on her shoulders. “…helps if you have a magic sword that can cut through anything. Otherwise I don’t know if I could have popped you out.”
Caitlin nodded, pacing along beside the other girl. “So where’d you pick that thing up? Word on the street is you’re as baseline as a newborn babe otherwise.”
Chou shrugged. “I got it at a gun show.”
“You’re shitting me.”
“No, I got it at a gun show in Knoxville.”
“I need to go to Knoxville, maybe they’ll sell me that M-1 Abrams I always wanted.” She gave Chou a semi-sheepish look. “I already have enough guns.”
“Okay. I collect swords, but my collection is gone.”
“Sorry to hear it. At least you got to keep one.”
“Yeah but I miss all the others. I had all of the Lord of the Rings blades,” Chou groaned, missing her collection.
“So what brought you to Whateley?”
Chou smirked, “My feet.”
Caitlin raised an eyebrow in response. “That’s a first. Care to elaborate?”
“I walked and rode a horse here from Knoxville.”
“Holy crap, you serious?”
“It took a while but it was safer than riding a plane or anything else.”
Caitlin gave Chou a long look as they approached the Ivy-covered Kirby building. “That’s gotta be a helluva story.”
“I guess, but it’s actually pretty short.”
“Well if you ever feel like telling, I’ll be happy to listen.” Caitlin stopped at the front door. “Ahh, here we are.”
Caitlin shuffled around in a pocket and dragged a surprisingly large set of keys out. She picked through the series of rune-protected keys to find the right one, then unlocked the door.
“After you.” Chou held the door open after Caitlin got it unlocked.
“Ever been in here?”
Chou shook her head. “No, all my mystic training has come from my mentor.”
“Well if you can sense the door and pop the lock, it'll be easier than me finding the spot and kicking it open again. Grimes hates when I do that, and I want Nephy to be a surprise.”
“No problem.” Chou concentrated for a moment, letting her connection to the Tao fill her, then found the invisible catch hidden behind a burn scar on the wall. “Found it.”
“Good. Let's get to this. You can sniff the door. If you can open it, the logic is you belong here so far as the students and staff are concerned. The psychic kids go buggy trying to break in.”
Chou smirked, then focused her chi for a moment and the wall panel dropped back a bit and vanished, revealing a stairway. “This is going to stink.”
“I’d haul him up, but you’re a safer bet.” Caitlin began dragging the golem up the stairs. “Once we get them into the bathroom I’ll go get the duct tape and the smelling salts.”
“Should I keep him unconscious ‘til we’re ready?”
Caitlin nodded, then stopped Chou. “Not the guys’ room. I wanna give the mages plenty of blackmail material, and finding him stuck in a toilet in the guys’ room is just par for the course. This way, please.” She stepped into the ladies’ room.
Chou looked on critically as Caitlin used a fingernail to unscrew the wall paneling on the first stall, revealing the toilet in its pristine condition. “Are you sure you want to do face down in a toilet? I mean, we can get creative here if you want.”
“See, much as I'd love to maim Chumply here I actually promised myself I wouldn't leave him face-down with a steamer. Besides, just in the toilet is NOT what I had in mind.”
“Oh? What do you have in mind for him?”
“Ever see the old movie, ‘Men at Work’?” Caitlin grinned evilly. “Observe.”
As she watched the girl work, Chou reflected that Nephandus was in for a bad day as Caitlin duct-taped his hands around behind the bowl in the kneeling position. She then proceeded to hunt down smelling salts and wake him before she taped his head loosely in the bowl. The piteous whining had no effect on the girl who apparently had done this to people before. She then proceeded to set up the inert form of the golem on top of Nephandus in the same position, like it was humping him.
Chou didn’t know whether to laugh or feel sorry for Nephandus. “Ah... Lovely... Very artistic. Do you have any flowers?”
“I'd say yes, but Earth Mother's Garden... ehhhh, let's just say not worth the fallout.”
“Okay, but you could do some very pretty things with them, to add to the visual.”
“If you want to, feel free. I've done about as much to him as I'm willing to risk.” Caitlin flicked her hand for emphasis, causing an angry red flare of energy to arc across her fingers. “This isn't controllable, and it's potentially lethal. Hence why you carried him.”
“Okay, that makes sense. Is there any way to get that under control?”
“Yeah... But it's not exactly something I'm willing to enter into lightly.”
Chou shrugged again, “What is it? How bad could it be?”
“What's the worst thing you can imagine happening to you personally?”
“Uhm...the entirety of the universe unraveling as the flow of the Tao is disrupted utterly.”
“Again, with the qualifying statement.” Caitlin chuckled ruefully, “Worst thing that can happen to YOU, personally.”
“Oh...my soul being ripped out and consumed for eternity in a pool of liquid fire.” Chou shuddered, remembering the Demon Lord of Fiery Immersion.
“Now imagine, rather than being dipped in liquid fire, becoming a prisoner in your own mind, with no thought, no will, that gets subsumed by another person eventually.” Caitlin led Chou out of the room to Nephandus’ protests, carefully closing the door as she spoke. “That’s why I won’t go into these things lightly.”
“And if you succeed?”
“I dunno, as far as I am aware, it’s never been done.” Caitlin tapped her head lightly, “I have a crapton of lives worth of memories to draw from in here, and none of them are helpful.”
Chou focused, drawing on the Tao a bit to get a better read on the situation. The information was there for her. “I can help you with that.”
“Doubt it. In my case, someone else ‘Helping’ except for one little thing at the end, is a big freaking boobytrap, ending with no more me, and a mindless automaton attached to them.”
“What if the person is able to help without being connected to things?” Chou asked, with certainty in her voice.
Caitlin shook her head, slightly. “Then you couldn't make the final piece. It HAS to be connected to something. Trick is, finding ME in the static. If I want to skip it, I need to find something that is wholly me. But blood, hair, none of that'll work, because it's not my blood, eyes, or hair anymore.”
Chou frowned a bit as the girl’s words rang true in the tapestry, and the Tao seemed to pull back from the idea of directly interfering. “It sounds like you need someone to make sure you are there, in the magical weave.”
“In the weave?” Caitlin looked a bit confused. “please bear in mind I’m kinda new to this mumbo-jumbo shit.”
Chou nodded, “Well, yes. Everything is connected to everything else. I'm not really connected, but that's a different thing than your not being connected. What we need to do then, to fix this, is to find out where you are connected to things, especially to yourself, and get that linked into the spell.”
“Yeah, that’s actually the basic theory that was explained to me. If it were easy someone would have already done it by now.”
“I guess the trick would be to get you into your weave again... You feel.. oddly hollow, which is odd. It is almost as if you are not even in yourself at all...”
“I’m not, this isn’t me.” Caitlin gave a disgusted look at the walls. “Let’s get the hell out of here. Mage sanctums creep me out.”
“Sure. So, this isn't you? I totally understand. This isn't me either.”
“Do tell.” Caitlin let Chou re-lock the doorway again as the pair left the building.
“Uhm...that has to do with the sword and something I really am not supposed to talk about. Suffice it to say that I didn't always look like this.”
“Sounds familiar. I break something, I save a life, and some shit I'm not supposed to talk about later, and BAM! Here I be, wishing I would wake up.” Caitlin was surprised at just how bitter she actually sounded.
Chou sighed sadly. “I wasn't able to save a life and here I am.”
“Can't save everyone. You can try, but sometimes shit happens. Usually when it hurts the worst.” Caitlin said it quietly, remembering lost friends, and Cat.
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
“I'll be honest with ya, normally I wouldn't be talking about this. Hell, I'd have been happy continuing to duck you. It's not something anyone has any right to ask, but if I fuck up, or if someone else gets me first, I don't want to be a damned meat puppet again.”
Chou got an odd look, then started speaking, prompted by her connection to the Tao. “If they take you again, I will drop you, so you can move on to your next life. I swear it by the Tao.”
“Good enough for me. I don't think Gunny Bardue could do it.”
“I will do it, if it needs to be. But let’s keep that from happening. If you need me to, I can guard your back.”
“We'll see. If push comes to shove, my best defense, as Nephandus found out, I'm not as docile as the magey types are likely to believe.”
“That fighting is useful and can keep whatever from tying you to them.” Chou felt her voice become her own again.
Caitlin chuckled darkly, “Much as I keep trying to avoid it, when it comes down to trying to stay alive, I'm not a nice person at all.”
“The Tao embraces good and evil, it just is. Bad things happen and being able to face things like that is a needed skill.”
“Good and evil are just names someone came up with to define what they thought was wrong. Sometimes what one man calls evil is necessity to another. What some claim is good does more damage than doing nothing. Free will's a bitch, ain't it?”
Chou nodded as they walked aimlessly. “That it is, and the universe itself has it.”
“Yeah, well, that's a philosophical question that I'll tackle after I take care of my more local and immediate problems.”
“True enough. I wonder what can be done for you.”
Caitlin started considering, “Honestly everything I poke at, pokes back with the same answer. To become what you wish to, you have to fundamentally understand who and what you are. I thought I did, but the hits just keep on coming, and nothing's as cut-and-dried as I believed.”
Chou cocked her head for a second, as if listening to a distant sound. “Well then, Destiny's Wave says that you need to gaze at the mirror until you realize that this body is you now and that you fill this frame.”
“Who?”
“Destiny’s Wave, my sword.” Chou smirked at the tall girl. “She talks.”
“Pull the other one.”
“No really.” Chou drew the blade out, and Caitlin looked skeptical until it started talking.
“Artificer, greetings.”
Caitlin’s mouth dropped open slightly. “Why do I feel like I just died and went to Dungeons & Dragons?”
“Hey, it is not my fault. The sword was like this when I bought it.” Chou smirked.
“Okay, that’s kinda cool. Creepy, but cool.” Caitlin examined the jade blade, careful not to touch as she did so.
Destiny’s Wave sounded somewhat indignant, “Surely this is one of the least creepy things you have done.”
“Oh, compared to the last few weeks this seems downright mundane, and it scares me that I can say that with a straight face.”
The sword let out a light chuckle. “You say that so well.” She took a more serious tone, “I am, however, sorry for your previous death upon myself.”
Caitlin shrugged. “Trust me. Death’s a mercy compared to what the memories of that life were like.”
“Uh, what are you two talking about?” Chou was confused.
“Like I said before last time I saw your face before being here at Whateley was with that sword sticking out of my chest.”
Destiny’s Wave took the opportunity to clarify, “Not yours, but another Handmaid.”
“Bear with me here, Chou. My memories are a bit jumbled. Sometimes have a hard time sorting out old lives from who I am now.” Caitlin looked about the snow-covered campus. “I think I screamed at Sam about something that happened in Norway back before the dark ages, and I really don’t understand everything.”
“Okay.” Chou shrugged, “So.. what happened, besides the whole ‘I killed you’ thing, which I don't understand.”
“Let's run with what uh - Destiny's Wave? - said and run with another handmaid, whatever the hell that means. I remember it like it was yesterday, same way I remember the first time I saw Jericho's wardrobe. Kinda hard to sort out, but she was very similar to you.”
Chou gave a mischievous smirk, “Well, all us Chinese look alike.”
“No, same face, same build, eyes were different, and she moved like she wasn't an awkward teenager.” Caitlin smiled apologetically, “Sorry, but you are a standard-issue awkward teenager.”
“Well, there is that…”
“Point is, I dunno why this handmaid came after me.” Caitlin shrugged, herself as she talked. “Hell the state I was in you could have explained at length and it would have mattered as much to me as if you told me the sky was going to be puce at high noon tomorrow.”
Destiny’s Wave spoke, adding a bit of clarification, “Her name was Chuan Lien-Hua and she was after you because you were arming an army of the dead with magical weapons. She stopped you so she could stop the army of the dead.”
“Kay. I'll take your word for it. I haven't sorted out all of the memories, I don't think I could in a normal lifetime, and it fits with the kind of nasty shit I’ve been forced to do in the past. The shit I remember at least.”
“So you were stopped by the Handmaid. That is a bit odd.” Chou had a thoughtful look.
Caitlin clarified, “Artificer is synonymous with slave for those in the know. One who'll never argue, nor question, no matter what nightmare you have it inflict on the natural world.”
“Okay...so a slave who makes magical items. Right. I think I understand better. Uh...what do you know of the Tao?”
“Just the basics. I skimmed the Tao-te-ching, I think I’m pronouncing it wrong, once way back in the day. It wasn't exactly relevant to what I was up to at the time.”
“Okay... The Tao is this current that embraces all things and nothing, it permeates everything and all things are part of it. This current flows in balance and the Handmaid is empowered by the Tao to keep that balance. Kind of like a lifeguard/ janitor kind of job.”
“It’s not quite like that...” Destiny’s Wave sounded indignant again, slightly miffed by the American irreverent streak.
Caitlin grinned. “Hey, call it as you see it.”
Chou nodded, rolling her eyes. “So, I am here to do whatever I have to in order to keep the balance be it creation, preservation or destruction.”
“Tall order for a teenager. I hope the dental plan was worth it.”
The Chinese girl grinned. “I didn’t get dental.”
“You’re being screwed. You should demand a raise.”
“Besides, when the Tao needs me, I get all the power of the Tao behind me. If the Tao doesn’t need me, I have no power just training.” She smirked ruefully. “Yeah, a raise… If ONLY!”
“Meh, power this, magic that. In the long run what counts is having a good head on your shoulders, the right training, and the drive to stick it to the wall when it needs to happen.” Caitlin shook her head. A few weeks prior, she’d have dismissed the whole Handmaid of the Tao thing as a delusional fantasy. Come to think of it, she kept wishing the Artificer was a delusional fantasy.
“Well, I am working on that part, but the Tao has provided some nice training.”
Caitlin nodded. “Welcome to Whateley, best training in the world.” She winked, “Unless you’re training to deal with normal people, then it kinda falls apart.”
Chou griped, “From what I gathered I am supposed to be able to deal with anything, which is kind of intimidating.”
Destiny’s Wave spoke next to reassure her wielder, “You can handle it. You are quite skilled and strong where it counts.”
“Deal with it as it comes. You can't do much more, and stressing over shit only screws you in the long run. I'm living proof.” Caitlin mimed hypnosis. “Don’t be like me, Chou, don’t be like meeeee.”
Chou grinned, finally relaxing into the conversation a bit. “I'm starting to get that. I had an easy life before all of this and I have been struggling to keep up.”
“Rough living makes a strong body, and a challenging puzzle strengthens the mind. I'll settle for a pizza, a football game and a couple buddies. Failing that, I have a gun... somewhere.”
“You don't talk like any girl I've ever known, you know that right?”
“So I've been told.. frequently...” Caitlin tilted her head towards a chuckling voice only heard by her, “No, Fuub this is not an invitation to tell stories!” Caitlin gave Chou a solemn look, “Friends don’t let friends spread blackmail material.”
“Fuub… Is he here?”
“Nah, but the nosy bum likes to check in on me from time to time.”
Chou nodded, “Ah.. okay. I have Immortals and the goddamned Monkey King checking in on me occasionally.”
“Rolled up newspaper. Think about it.”
Chou grinned, “Toni uses one of those. It's pretty funny.”
“I saw, last Wednesday or Thursday I think.”
“Really? I don't remember you, but then again I was busy fighting.”
“I was the asshole with the Barrett blowing Demon-wolf-things to chunky tuna. God I wish I’d had some aspirin that worked after that bit.” Caitlin roughly pushed that memory from her head before it could start throbbing with another migraine. “Don’t mind me when I tell you I think all of you are in over your heads.”
Chou gave a snort. “Story of Team Kimba, if you ask me.”
“Yeah, well from what I heard, you lot need to learn the meaning of the word ‘subtle." Caitlin gave a sardonic chuckle, “Oh the irony…”
“Subtle… We can't do that, Chaka won't let us.”
“Don't feel bad. I have Jericho and Razorback. Subtle? What's that?”
“Good point. So, any idea on how to take care of the energy surges, besides really risky?”
“Best thing is what I got, with the wards and runic crap sewn into my clothing. Knocks it back from fission reaction to ow, stop it, ow, stop it, ow, don't touch me.”
“I hope you can find a way to take care of this that doesn't end up with you being someone’s Muppet.”
“I already have most of the pieces. Honestly most magey types define themselves by their power.” Caitlin rolled her eyes, “Morons if you ask me.”
“Maybe you just need to find you own silence so you can hear that last bit.”
“Silence hasn't helped. I’m thinking about making some noise.”
“Do what you have to do, right?”
Caitlin nodded. “Yeah, Heckel always did say I thrived on stress and chaos.”
“Heckel?” Chou raised an eyebrow.
“Old buddy of mine. Names have been changed to protect the guilty.”
“Ah, sort of like a codename?”
“Oh yeah, it is, mostly because him and his brother can't shut up, and they're terminal smartasses.”
“What was yours?”
“Asshole?” Caitlin grinned. “Usually whatever epithet came to mind.”
“Oh... you know... it doesn't sound like this really is part of your life now. Was it some sort of past life?”
“Something I gave up. The friends are still there, I'm not that person anymore... I hope.”
“Okay... So those people are still alive?”
Caitlin nodded again.
“So... You had another life before this, so you were transformed into this?”
Caitlin shrugged, “Like I said, something I’ve been trying to move on from.”
Chou nodded.
“Alright, here’s how the puzzle works. Give me an item, something mystic, whatever. I handle it for a bit, and I can tell you what it is, how to make it work, how to build it, how to break it. This one's not instinctive because it's unique to each person. I pretty much have everything but that last piece to bridge the gap, something that defines me.” Caitlin gave a wry look, “As you may have guessed, I’m not exactly your standard-issue mutant.”
“Tell me about it. I am a baseline human who can take out stupid powerful mutants or what not, yeah that makes sense.”
“Baselines can always take out stupid powerful mutants. That's the trick. It's also what all the kids here seem to miss, too.”
“I've noticed. It's kind of like those stories about those Dragonslayers. Norms taking out super villains. Kind of motivational in a weird way.”
“Meh, that’s simply tales of the bogeyman that hold the base kernel of truth. Don't fear the pros. Fear the lucky idiot with a gun. He may be an idiot, but he's still lucky, and he has a gun. At least you can fight the pros.”
“Yeah. I was scared in Boston when I fought those guys with guns. Supervillains aren't as scary to me.”
“Exactly. You can see what most mutants are gonna do, hell they telegraph their intent all over the place. But a stray bullet? Much harder to predict.”
Chou gave Caitlin an odd look. “And it sounds like the voice of experience there with the ‘pros’."
“Like I said, I’ve had a checkered past.”
“I have a nothing past.”
“Be happy, Chou. If doing stupid shit was an Olympic event I’d have won the gold, many many times, and I must stress stupid.”
“Yes… But since then I have made up for lost time.”
“Just do like you did with Nex, after you got over the initial ‘Oh shit’ and pulled it together.”
“I'm still pulling it together.”
Caitlin nodded, “It’ll come, but enough fucking maudlin, no point in talking in circles till we depress ourselves. Let's go find our friends, or pick a fight, or do anything but run around in circles hoping answers will fall from the sky.”
“You know, all this has made me hungry. Let's find some food.” Chou looked over in the direction of the Crystal Hall.
“Fooooooood.” Caitlin immediately started shambling towards the building while Chou smirked and followed.
Ayla wandered through the tunnels with some trepidation, both wishing she could find a way to bow out gracefully and determined to see the whole thing through. The inhuman, four-armed redhead leading the way had a pleased smile on her face, and Ayla smiled despite the creeping unease she was feeling that had nothing whatsoever to do with Phobos’ fear-aura. She’d learned to get along with, and even be friends with, the Fury Twin over the past few months, but she was still carting around all of the old Goodkind baggage.
The thought of walking into a room packed with the heavily GSD and the dangerous simply by virtue of existence gave her a bit of creeping dread that she mercilessly crushed every so often for the benefit of her empathically hypersensitive companion. She had gotten to the point where she could cope fairly well with being surrounded by regular, look-like-everyone-else mutants, and Phobos looked human enough to be more tragic than terrifying, but all of her family’s worst horror stories invariably involved someone who looked wholly monstrous.
She was hearing odd, music-like sounds that were impossible to make out, baffled and muffled by the irregular construction of the tunnel system. As the two girls came around a corner she was blasted with the thunder of a full-on bass guitar playing the opening riffs of a Metallica song, one usually accompanied by a bell tolling between each series of notes. Oddly, for once, she couldn’t put a name to the song and the more she thought about it the more agitated she became.
She almost jumped when Phobos gently touched her shoulder. “Relax. You’re getting worked up Ayla.” The girl looked at her with those three emerald-eyes in a pyramid pattern critically. “You know we can do this again, later.”
Ayla shook her head a little too quickly as the music thundered down the tunnel, oddly lacking in any drums to keep the beat. “No, I have to do this now. I really do, or I might never get the guts to try again.”
“You sure?” Phobos looked dubious.
Ayla took a few deep breaths and nodded slowly. “Yeah, I need to do this, Adrienne. If I don’t, then I’ll know I didn’t have the guts to give everyone the chance to show me who they are.”
Phobos smiled and nodded. “Okay, on the upshot, if nothing else, you’ll get to hear some good music. Jericho and Razorback can be a couple of asses sometimes but they do know how to play.”
“Which one’s Razorback?”
“You can’t miss him, big, mottled-black and looking like a spiny velociraptor from hell.”
Ayla blanched. “No I mean which one is he playing?” She didn’t think it was worth mentioning that she’d already seen the champion psychopath of Whateley from a distance before. She was pretty good at picking him out and avoiding him entirely.
“Oh, he plays the lead guitar. Trust me, when he gets going its insane.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
Almost on cue the music stopped and Ayla heard a bit of hissing and snarling, like a wild animal loose, and a male voice cutting in. “Dude, you’ve tuned your Fender three times now, if you haven’t got it perfect you never will.” The responding animal noises came rapid-fire, tapering off and reminding Ayla of nothing so much as herself as Trevor Goodkind, imitating her Aunt Edna nattering on about some minor faux-pas at some party that no one else cared about.
Phobos grinned at Ayla’s bemused look as the notes were played bit by bit, slowly and carefully. “Razor’s hypersensitive to sound. He can hear an off-note that some computers would have trouble picking out.”
The two girls turned the last left and entered into the large chamber the two Outcast boys and Phobos’ sister, Deimos were occupying. She noticed the massive form of Razorback tweaking the amplifier, then his strings on the guitar, playing a few notes, then repeating the process after she noticed the mind-warping horror of Jericho’s outfit of the day. Had she seen the horrendous, purple-silk moiré pattern shirt he’d been wearing earlier she might have vomited. Blindness was one thing, but that was no excuse for this absolute assault on the sanctity of good taste!
Deimos, for her part, was watching with bemused interest and noted that Ayla’s horror wasn’t for the two freaks occupying the room. “You walk into a room with two people who don’t even really look human and its Jericho’s clothing that set you off. I think Adrienne may be right about you.”
Ayla shook off her horrified daze as the other four-armed Fury Twin walked forward with the soft clipping sound of hooves on stone and held out her upper-right, clawed hand. From head to hooves, with three emerald-green eyes, horns, fangs, four arms ending in sinisterly clawed hands, and a pair of whiplike tails lashing the air behind her, Deimos looked like a clone of her sister, were it not for the raven black hair that graced her head in sharp contrast to Phobos’ dark red.
Ayla took the hand gingerly and shook it as the other half of the Fury Twin terror team gave a slight smirk. “I didn’t think you’d actually come.”
Ayla Goodkind, scion of a house that reviled mutants as the monsters in the dark, gave a wan smile. “I wasn’t so sure about myself either.”
“Have you met the guys?”
Ayla nodded, "Of course I know the anti-Christian Dior up there, and I know Phobos, but I have not yet met the rest of the room."
Jericho up close was quite different from the way Ayla had heard him described by the other students around class, or when he was wearing his usually more-baggy attire. Far from a marshmallowy black boy of Belphegor-esque paunch, Jericho was best described as broad, with a layer of fat that covered a frame that could have been terrifying were he to become a professional weightlifter. His face was pleasant to look at, for a guy, and his perpetually grinning face was topped by four-inch long dreadlocks and a pair of bone-white eyes with absolutely no features to them. He simply waved at them before going back to helping his partner in crime tune the instruments.
“And that,” Phobos pointed at the mottled-black nightmare with the Fender Stratocaster, “is Razorback. Say hi, Razor.”
The Fury twins were scary looking to Ayla’s mind’s eye, but Razorback was literally a monster. He actually chirped at Ayla briefly before going back to lovingly tuning his guitar. Ayla watched him with morbid fascination, realizing that even hunched over the way one expected a velociraptor to be, Razorback was nothing short of massive. Mottled black, with brown and yellow patterns running along his body, he towered over the other kids here. Ayla guessed he was slightly taller than Hippolyta in his naturally hunched posture. The thought of what he’d be like if he were to raise himself upright and look down on someone made her shiver. It was hard to appreciate just how BIG the notorious speedster actually was until one saw him up close. The two rows of eight-inch spines running from his shoulders, tapering down to one row of smaller spines along the length of his tail made him look even fiercer. She was surprised to note that his arms were proportioned like a human’s and about as thick as her own thigh, easily.
“Wow.”
“What?” Jericho turned his white eyes towards Ayla.
Ayla half-pointed at Razorback. “I didn’t realize he’s that big.”
Jericho nodded. “Yeah. No one really does until they’re either right under him, or he’s diving onto them in the sims.”
Ayla had the sudden thought that she’d probably crap herself if that happened. Not that a Goodkind would say such a thing out loud.
Razorback waved his hands about, letting the sling hold the guitar up, and Jericho gave him an annoyed look before backhanding the big lug. “You watch your fucking language.”
The big velociraptor-thing – boy, Ayla corrected herself - began an odd coughing sound that was almost like a seal barking. She guessed it was laughing when Phobos and Deimos both stifled giggles.
“Why do I get the impression I’m the butt of a huge joke?” Ayla didn’t ask anyone in particular.
“Because you are, it’s called life.” Jericho grinned as he spoke.
Razorback simply stared at her with those crocodilian eyes before stalking forward toward her. Ayla felt her heart leap into the back of her throat and try to squeeze into her nostrils as she instinctively went heavy. She felt like a deer in headlights as she fought back the overriding panic as the boy’s massive, triangular head came within four inches and he sniffed twice. A strange hiss/squealing noise that sounded utterly animal escaped his mouth as he backed up two steps and flashed his hands rapidly.
“Duh, Razorback, I told you that the rumors Aries were spreading were partially true before I invited her here.” Phobos put all four fists on her hips and looked at him irritably. “You really can be dense sometimes, you know that?”
Ayla croaked out, “Which rumors?”
“Razor says you smell both male and female. He pretty much automatically discounts anything that comes out of Aries’ mouth just because it’s Aries.”
Jericho nodded. “My boy here and Aries have a truly special relationship. Aries bullies the Underdogs, and Razorback chases him up trees when he catches him at it.”
“Razor’s one of the Bully-Busters?” Ayla looked slightly confused. The bully-busters were a loose pack of students who liked to smash faces on bullies around campus when they stepped too far out of line for the students, but not far enough to face Delarose or the harsher teachers on campus. Mule of the Grunts was probably the most well-known of the open Bully-Busters, with Jimmy Trauger holding second place whenever someone poked a Thorny.
Razorback gave everyone an odd look then gave a bit of a shriek before stalking over to his guitar case and putting on a necklace with a mirrored silver disc. He clicked something on the disc and began signing again. A monotone, robotic voice issued from the device. -I can neither confirm, nor deny the existence of the Bully-Busters, nor can I recall any activities as such directed at Aries. Even if he is an unusually tempting target.-
Ayla blinked.
-What, you never see a dinosaur talk before?-
“Ummmm, no?”
Jericho lobbed a water bottle at his buddy’s head. Razor ducked and began barking and growling at Jericho, and the two began an impromptu wrestling match on the concrete.
Ayla stood, somewhat dumbstruck at the Dorky Devisor and the most notorious psycho acting like a pair of goofball BOYS. “Are they always like this?”
Deimos gave her a look. “This is actually pretty tame. Those two have waaay too much fun messing with people’s perceptions.”
Jericho seemed to be having the worst of the wrestling match, but the pudgy boy was laughing like a maniac as he twisted Razor’s arm and grabbed his pinkie. This seemed to be the signal for the play to end as the two stood up, Razor’s finger held gently between Jericho’s thumb and forefinger, his pinkie raised slightly... Razorback shook his head like he was panicked and Jericho grinned evilly and nodded.
“Skidoosh” Jericho dropped his pinkie and Razor let out a shriek that made the hair on Ayla’s neck stand up as he fell over. The boys began laughing at Ayla’s weirded out expression.
“Do I even want to know?”
Jericho chuckled as Razorback stood back up. “We found a script buried on the internet. It’s awesome. You’ll love it when it comes out.”
Ayla just got an odd, half-smile, half-shocked expression... then just started laughing. She didn’t know what else to do.
Sandra arrived in the Hawthorne tunnels before Caitlin, but not by a wide margin. Caitlin had a small Asian girl in tow, and she grinned as she recognized Bladedancer. She’d met the girl once before, in the tunnels, but it had more been in passing, and the rumors slipping out from her friends said she wasn’t too bad to deal with.
“Hello ladies, it’s simply MAHVELLOUS to see you!” She slithered over to the two and gave a confident grin.
“Well, you’re in a good mood.” Caitlin looked at her oddly. “Who are you and what have you done with Diamondback?”
“Oh I am, found out a few things and slapped the shit out of Tempest.”
Chou did a doubletake. “You slapped Sharisha around?”
“Yup. She ran her mouth off about Fey and Chaka. And she called me a freak, so I slapped her.”
Caitlin gave her a look. “What are you not saying?”
“I’m going to be beating her ass in Arena ’77 here in a few days?”
“Why?”
“Because she’s a bigoted bitch?”
Chou gave Sandra a smirk. “Good enough for me.”
Caitlin rolled her eyes. “Whatever you two say. Let’s go see the boys do their music thing, shall we?”
“You seem remarkably unconcerned for my safety.” Sandra stuck her tongue out at Caitlin.
“You kicked Hekate’s ass, I am SO not worried about whether you can kick whoever you’re talking about into the ground, or tailslap her. Whatever it is you do.”
“So what have you been up to, Cait? Hardly seen you since I brought you food.”
Chou simply followed the two girls, studiously avoiding stepping on Diamondback’s tail.
“I was stuffing Nephandus’ head in a toilet.”
“You serious? Jay-Arm?”
Chou snickered. “Yes, she did. I didn’t realize he whined like that.”
Sandra gave a short laugh. “Only when he thinks you might punch him in the face.”
Caitlin raised an eyebrow. “How does that work?”
“Easy, Jean-Armand,” Sandra’s emphasis on his name was hardly complimentary, “is absolutely fearless when you start lobbing magic or psychics at him, likes to brag about how many Daemons he’s bound and forced into servitude. However, he doesn’t exactly have much life experience dealing with football players, bullies and people who will mess up his prettyboy face when he grabs their asses. Threaten him physically and he caves every time.”
“Good to know.” Chou grinned. “I’ll pass that along to Nikki.”
“Oh yeah, you two hang out a lot.”
“What’s that racket?” came a voice from Chou’s back.
Sandra looked around. “Cait, was that you?”
“Ummm, no. That would be the sword.”
“Suuure it is...”
Chou smirked. “She’s right, the sword can talk, and she sounds a lot like Caitlin here.”
“Yes I can talk, and I’ll ask again. What is that racket?” The sword’s voice rang out loud and clear to the three girls.
“Offhand I’d say a rendition of Seether’s Remedy.” Caitlin shrugged. “All in all not bad, either.”
“Certainly better than the usual cacophony I am subjected to, but still not exactly my taste.” The sword’s voice held a fair measure of quietly suffering disdain.
“Ayla likes Brass Monkey,” Chou said by way of explanation. Both of the other girls recoiled in horror.
“Brass…MONKEY?” Sandra’s voice held an edge of panic to it. “Oh my GAWD, someone actually LIKES that crap???”
“I’m with her on this one.” Caitlin got a sour look. “Brass Monkey’s the kinda thing one has nightmares about being subjected to in a police interrogation. I think it’s actually listed as psychological warfare material.” She also failed to mention that her old buddy Heckel absolutely adored the band.
“One type of music sounds like the other in these days to me, but how could something be used for torture be called music?” Destiny’s Wave sounded confused.
“I think she’s being facetious and exaggerating.” Chou smirked and shook her head.
Sandra nodded. “Not exaggerating by much though. That level of discordant noise should be illegal.”
“I’ll stick to Nightwish and Metallica. Brass Monkey sounds too much like a gorilla kicking itself in the nuts.” Caitlin smirked as Chou rolled her eyes. “Back to the cave of doom?”
“You’ve never been to the cave of doom.” Sandra poked her friend in the chest, mindful of the odd, greenish arc that chased her finger.
“Details, details, no pokey the cranky bitch.”
“But Hekate’s not here!” Chou’s comment stopped Sandra and Caitlin for a moment, then the two burst out laughing.
“Oh she’ll fit right in.” Caitlin chortled as Sandra nodded, grinning.
When the three stepped into the large room with the two boys rocking out, they actually got dirty looks from the mixed bag of Thornies, Twain boys and Whitman girls until Diamondback came into view.
“Relax folks, they’re cool.” The snake-girl’s simple statement seemed to mollify most, but there were a few hostile glares, which Caitlin pointedly ignored. She was used to homicidal looks from the kids on the ranges.
Jericho and Razorback were grinning from the makeshift stage with their amps and pickups as the Outcast girls filed in.
“Ah, my ladies, welcome! Sandra, please…” Jericho got a patently evil grin as Caitlin and Chou settled in near Ayla, Phobos and Deimos, “…join us.”
Sandra smiled sweetly at Jericho as she slithered forward to the cheers and jeers of the GSD crowd while giving him the finger. “I’ll get you for this.”
“Take a number and get in line.”
Razorback shrieked out his approval and handed a mic to Diamondback. Then he immediately began tearing into a riff string with his guitar. When the snake girl was just registering the fact that he was playing Jericho abruptly kicked in with his bass guitar and roared into the mic.
“What have you done now?”
The Twain crew howled their approval as two boys rammed out the riffs like they’d done it a hundred times, while Diamondback struggled to keep up with where they were. Jericho knew Sandra, and he knew better than to leave her any room to over-think and get stage fright. As the music played, even without a beat, she started swaying to the music, closing her eyes and pretending it was just the three of them once again. Jericho proved that he could actually sing as he continued the male vocals of the song.
Diamondback started singing with her old friend. Caitlin, Phobos and Deimos grinned as Sandra proved up to the task. Apparently Jericho’s bragging that she had an incredible voice was right on the money.
Jericho turned back and howled again.
The outcasts were in full play mode, and Razorback began headbanging as Jericho tore out the chorus line.
Caitlin found herself moving to the music in her seat, while Phobos, Deimos and Ayla sat there, grinning. Chou sat there, stunned, not having known what to expect, or how to react. As they watched, Sandra began swaying and moving like she was in her dance class. The effect was hypnotic, disturbing, and for the first time, a lot of the kids in the crowd began to realize that she was female, and she could move.
–What have you done?, Within Temptation.
The kids in the room howled their approval all through the rest of the song, and Caitlin found herself caught up in the sudden, unexpected rush as Phobos and Deimos were, roaring at the top of her lungs with the rest of the kids. Differences in age forgotten, the memory of the day’s misery fast fading, she joined wholeheartedly in the simple fun with the Outcasts of Whateley Academy, suddenly understanding, along with the two Poesies sitting nearby, just why Outcast Corner was the name of the team Jericho led.
“Well fuck me.” Caitlin was impressed. As used to kids using some kind of sonic shtick for their music as she was, seeing kids do it by talent alone was surprising, and refreshing.
Half a dozen “Okays!” rang out from around the room, and she couldn’t quite tell who they were, but the sheer absurdity had her laughing with her head in her arms, on the makeshift table. Chou was chuckling to the side while Ayla looked like she was just now beginning to relax a bit. The roommates looked at each other and smiled.
Jericho set aside the guitar and wandered over with a shit-eating grin and many high-fives from his buddies, while Razor hung back to talk to Sandra, who was glaring bullets at Jericho’s back.
Caitlin, Chou, the Fury Twins, and Ayla all gave a clap as he arrived, although Ayla seemed a bit half-hearted.
“Thank you, my adoring throng, I bask in your ovation!”
The lot of them threw bits of paper and gravel at him, but lightly. Jericho grinned and settled into a seat nearby, while the local kids from the various GSD dens settled into conversations with each other, and not a few went up to talk to Sandra about her performance.
Ayla looked thoughtful, and glanced at the irate snake-girl. She spoke after a moment. “You know, the singing was awesome, but that was kind of mean putting her on the spot like that.”
Phobos and Deimos exchanged smirks, as Jericho gave a thoughtful look. “Okay, Ayla, you’re new on the scene so I shall humor you.” He settled back, and Caitlin leaned forward, curious.
Jericho seemingly ignored Ayla’s skeptical look, looking forward, into blank space. “Let me tell you the story of two Texas twins. See, these two twins were my best buds, my partners in crime, me compadres. The two of them lived for the prank, the joke, the vicious play of words, and yes, the occasional spitting and slugging match in the playground. The two of them had everything a pair of kids could want, they were smart, relatively good looking, they had a sense of style, in fact it seemed their only flaw was their friendship with the fat black kid six blocks up the road.”
The blind Devisor continued on. “In reality, while these twins absolutely loved to get in and do shit, to get their hands dirty, to make friends, the both of them had this problem with being atrociously shy and reserved. Both of them had the gift for being social, but most of the time they just liked to tag along with their buddy, creating havoc and pranking and refining the ideas for mayhem he cooked up. They were also whizzes at finding ways out of trouble, which served my fat ass well.”
“However, after a time, I realized that while they had all these things they wanted to do, they didn’t have that self-confidence to jump out and do it. So rather than dragging them along behind me all the time, I’d sucker them, and then kick them in a direction that they wanted to go in but were leery of taking the steps. When they wanted to take a look at the Wiccan thing, I almost had to throw them at the local coven group I knew of. I had to spike their tempers so hard that they got their own at the student competition on the track. Every time, I, or one of our other lunatic buddies, had to throw them to the dogs to prove to them that they were in fact as good at what they were doing as I, and Bruce, and Kaylan, and Willie, and Lord help me, even Cassidy told them they were.”
Jericho got a serious look. “Don’t get me wrong, I am not claiming I carried their asses, far from it. But unfortunately for Sandra, and her twin, the only way to get them to realize that they can carry their own is to startle them, then kick a boot into their ass so hard that their instincts kick in before their doubts can.”
“That seems a bit thin.” Ayla was skeptical.
“Nope, he’s right.” Deimos pointed a finger at the small cluster of kids talking to Sandra, congratulating her. “That’s pure Diamondback. She’s going to glare at Jericho a lot for the next few days, get her confidence, then thank him later.”
“How is that normal?”
Chou looked at Ayla seriously. “There’s the difference between your upbringing and middle-class kids like us. You have the whole ‘act like a Goodkind’ confidence thing. Our parents just tried to guide us towards not making their mistakes in high school.”
“And sometimes it doesn’t work.” Caitlin shrugged. “It took me getting so hatefully mad at life that I should probably be in jail right now to get me to stop playing the wallflower from hell.”
“I don’t understand.”
“That’s fine, I’ll never understand what growing up rich feels like.” The sparking Artificer gave a wicked grin.
“Touché.” Ayla looked thoughtful. “Why is nobody glaring at me for being a Goodkind here?”
“Because you’re not acting like the Goodkinds.” Chou spoke quietly. “I mean look, would any of the rest of your family be caught dead in here in a room packed with the freakish and nightmare-inducing? Their words, not mine. I’ve seen the press-conferences.”
“Yeah. Is it okay if I admit that I’m trying not to panic still?” She looked at Phobos. “It’s not like I can hide it from you.”
“But you’re doing a very good job of suppressing it.” The red-haired Fury twin pretended to buff her nails on her shirt.
“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”
Both of the twins got slow, crazed, shit-eating grins. “Now where would you get an idea that I’d do something like that?”
Ayla narrowed her eyes slightly. “I vill haff my revenge!”
“Looking forward to it, dearie.”
Caitlin chuckled. “All right, I’m going to go inflate Diamondback’s ego some more.”
Jericho nodded. “Agreed. Let’s go. You ladies play nice while we rub my best friend’s nose in her insecurities, and tell her not to leave them on the carpet anymore.”
“You, sir, are a bastard.” Ayla smirked.
“And I ate a baby!”
Cait and Jericho arrived at the same time as Jimmy Trauger, Razorback’s so-called cannibal buddy. Caitlin knew better, having had a long chat with Delarose over cards about some of the Ultraviolents on more than a few occasions, even if she wasn’t that awesome at paying attention to the whole picture.
Razorback set his guitar down, gave Jimmy a fist-thumping handshake, and grinned.
"Nice playing guys. Always glad to see you around." Jimmy turned to look at Sandra and grinned. "Damn, Diamond, if I'd known you could sing like that we'd have hijacked you from Whitman and dragged you over here to Hawthorne."
Sandra grinned slightly, showing off her fangs. "Well I still might wind up there, after all I do make a few of the staff nervous with the whole poison-spitting act."
"What's a little venom between friends?" Apparently Jimmy T was in good mood.
"Hey Jimmy, trying to escape the cage?" Caitlin grinned at her fellow Hawthorne inmate.
"You know Caitlin?" Jericho asked.
"How can I not? She visited the common room on movie night and couldn't figure out which language she was using. I STILL want to know what the hell you were saying.
"HEY! I haven't spoken anything but English for the last couple days!"
"I guess God DOES answer prayers!" Jimmy grinned.
Razorback gave out a barking laugh, then began signing.
"Whaddya men you pray for a pony?" Sandra grinned at him. "The Crystal Hall has food whenever you want it."
Razorback signed again. Even Jericho looked a bit disturbed. "Dude, that's just... eww. You eat them RAW???"
Razor nodded enthusiastically.
Caitlin chuckled. "What, nothing wrong with going native. Done it before. Hell, I've eaten spiders, scorpions, bugs, dogs, cats, you name it."
"GROSS!" Jericho and Sandra were unanimous in their opinions of that. Jimmy T just laughed.
"At least you don't have a rep for cannibalism." The shapeshifter kid said.
"Give me time." Caitlin smirked. "I have this feeling I'm gonna have a rep for being one of the most fucked up kids on campus."
"You're a Hawthorne inmate, you're already there."
"Good point."
"So got a question, Cait. You ever going to pick a codename?" Sandra looked thoughtful.
"I dunno. I thought about it for three minutes, but everything I come up with sounds too pompous or obnoxious for words." Caitlin began ticking off the list. "Metalhead, Soulforge, PMS Assault, Bitch-on-wheels, Skullthumper, The Amazing Wiseass..."
"Ugh, you really are too much of a tomboy for your own good." Sandra began thinking.
"OOH! Picking codenames? Can I help?" Jimmy grinned maniacally.
Jericho grinned. "I've always been fond of Amazon, hell, you're built like it."
Caitlin looked at Jericho. "I'm not THAT big."
"Cait, you're almost as tall as Hippolyta, and that's saying something," Sandra cut back, "and you've got that warrior-princess look going on, too hot to handle, bench presses Volkswagens on her off-time."
Caitlin looked skeptical, but let that pass. "So any other suggestions?"
"So what kinda power schtick you do?" Jimmy asked thoughtfully.
"In theory, magic, and I can thump the shit out of things pretty handily." Caitlin looked around quietly, lost in thought. "What I know for sure could fill a thimble, and the staff is equally lost in the sauce."
"How about Mystique?" Jimmy grinned.
"Jimmy have you lost your fucking mind? I am NOT fighting Marvel in court!"
Jimmy chuckled.
Jericho leaned over. "How about Arcane? It kinda implies both magic and something beyond understanding."
Caitlin shook her head. "Good idea Jericho, but that one's taken. Arcane graduated from Whateley five years ago."
"Galatea?" Sandra asked quietly.
Caitlin shuddered as memories of a time bearing deep purple tattoos flashed through her mind. "Never mention Galatea around me again, please. Those are not pleasant memories."
Four pairs of eyebrows raised at once, but no one seemed to want to pursue the line of questioning when Caitlin started spitting out curses in Greek.
Razorback let out a short, feral shriek, and waited, then he began signing again now that everyone was actually paying attention. Sandra grinned.
"Eldritch." She looked at Caitlin, "Razor says you should be called Eldritch. Magical and poorly understood, but not beyond comprehension."
Caitlin stopped and looked at Razorback. It really was not a bad idea. Plus it seemed to fit better than any of the others. She gave Razor a smile and nodded to him. The six-foot-four spiked lizardman gave a satisfied chirp and began tuning the guitars again.
Jimmy grinned. "Well freshthings, I'd love to stick around and chat, but I have places to go, people to eat... err, see."
Razor gave Jimmy a short shriek and pumped his fist in the air while everyone else sort of laughed. It wasn't as funny when you realize he actually tried it once. Razor and Caitlin looked nonplussed, both had done worse to people.
A grinning farewell later, and Jimmy was off to parts unknown, to do havoc as only a shapeshifter could do.
Caitlin grinned as Jericho looked over, and pointed at a metal table. "Hey Caitlin, gimme a beat for the next song. We're playing Enter Sandman next, just need you to keep a steady pace."
"Kay."
Caitlin began tapping out a slow, steady beat which Razor immediately picked up and began playing Metallica’s song. Slowly it all picked up and Sandra began singing.
Tuesday, December 13, 2006
Lieutenant Simeon Trout jaunted across the quad, allowing his gaze to sweep across his domain, taking everything in. He was still spitting mad about that bloody girl who came through his office like a hurricane and cowed three members of his squad with hardly any effort whatsoever. His back still spasmed occasionally from whatever she’d done to him. He turned into Schuster Hall in the early morning, hoping to catch Collins before his appointments began.
The latecomer students MID cards were being prepared, and he needed to get in with the mandatory data from Whateley to facilitate the MID registration. Fortunately this process also allowed him to get some measure of revenge against that amazonian bitch of a teenager.
Agent Collins was a stereotypical MCO suit, expensive clothing, carefully tended hair, and of course, the mirrorshades. The man had a perpetual scowl on his face that he wore every time he went into a field operation that warranted his personal attention. The man disliked mutants since he started in the agency. Trout had walked his first beat with the man under his original name. Neither of them was particularly fond of mutants, but Trout had always had more an eye for the big score than the moral imperative. Never mind the MCO paid better for information about up-and-coming threats than they paid their agents.
The agent’s scowl lessened a bit as he recognized his former partner. “Ah, Lieutenant, I was wondering when someone would be bringing in the Materials package for this particular run.”
“I decided it’d be best if I brought in the stuff myself to avoid tampering.”
Collins nodded. “So anything of note this time?”
“Short batch, only eight kids this time. Only one with a B-warning due to biological alterations. Boy’s probably going to be wheelchair-locked for the rest of his life.”
“Anything my agents need to be appraised of?”
Trout shook his head. “Nah, kid’s fine unless you decide to pull off the respirator. Then you might have some problems. He’ll be here with a nurse to make sure his apparatus stays tight though.”
“Bad?”
“He’s one of those rare kids for whom I’d ask for a gentle hand, Collins. Kid’s going to have trouble staying alive, much less causing trouble.”
“Alright, I’ll give him to Sanchez. He’s a bit more sympathetic when it’s kids involved.” The MCO agent looked Trout up and down. “So if there’s nothing of interest, why are you looking like you’re about to put the hammer down on someone and gonna deeply enjoy it?”
Trout shrugged, forcing his expression under control. “Number seven. There’s a bit extra in there for you. Girl’s likely to not be entirely forthcoming.”
“I take it you would rather her subjected to a bit more of a harsh Q&A session?”
“If you think you can handle the little hellion.”
Collins grinned, “I live for the hellions, buddy, you know that. I’ll see to her myself.”
“Good to go. Burn the extra after you’ve entered it. No point in letting Carson see that there was extra baggage in the works.”
“And I’ll make sure you get the standard finders’ fee. I’m assuming it’s accurate?”
“Culled straight from Delarose’s Director files, although it’s skimpy for what he packs into those files.”
“Don’t get caught doing that Trout.”
Lieutenant Simeon Trout sneered. “Please, not even Buxton knows I found a way into those files. Let me handle Delarose, you handle your end.”
Caitlin tried to ignore the knocking on the door to her room, desperately trying to find some moment of mental quiet. Maybe if she could find a moment of internal peace, sleep would come. The knocking continued, an annoyingly staccato sound, ramming against her eardrums in the perfect quiet of her room when she finally rolled out of bed for the eighth time that night. She should have been tired, damn near dead to the world, as this was her fourth night in a row without sleep, but she was as alert and aware as she would have been at noon with a pot of coffee on a normal work day.
“It’s Six-thirty in the morning, somebody had better be dead!” Shouting felt good, it helped her forget briefly that she should be going bugnuts crazy from sleep deprivation.
The door clicked and Elyzia Grimes’ face poked in. The face got a panicked look and the woman began frantically waving and talking. “Cait, it’s me, Jimmy-T. I woke up like this, sorry, but I was told to come get you!”
The words came through, and jarred her to the realization that she was growling - loudly - and her corona had erupted in a hellish, yellow, arcing glow that illuminated the room. She forced her temper back in the box she kept it in, and growled something as the surging energy subsided.
“Sorry, what?”
“Out!” She managed not to yell, or shriek somehow, “I need to get dressed.”
“Right. I’ll be right outside.” The head popped back out into the hallway.
Caitlin swore under her breath as she began searching for her clothing, a task made more difficult by the suppression runes cut into the walls of her new room. It caused the currents and energy to swirl around like a cyclone, partially obscuring what she was looking at. Normally she could separate things out easily, but in here, where everything was contained, absorbed and shunted, vision required one to open the door at least once an hour to let the excess backwash out. Jimmy had only partially cleared the room by cracking the door.
Once she was dressed, she opened the door, and felt and saw the cyclonic rush, causing her skin to spark wildly as she looked in the hallway for her unwanted interruption. In Elyzia Grimes’ place was the thin, wiry form of Deadeye.
“Better Jimmy, not by much, but better.”
The shapeshifter grinned in response. “Not a fan of military madness?”
“I have enough madness in my life.”
“Ouch. I would strongly suggest an alternative school then. Whateley has nothing but madness, and it’s not getting any thinner.”
“Yay, I can look forward to chronic dementia in my old age.”
Jimmy grinned. “That’s the spirit.”
“You’re fired.”
“So I was told to come get you for the MID session for you and the other Johnny-come-latelies.”
“Oh, perfect, just what I always wanted, a morning bull session from the Mutant Control Office, or the Mutant Commission Gestapo, whichever you prefer.”
“Ah, reasons to be unfond much?”
“Maybe someday I’ll tell you about it.”
Jimmy smirked. “We’ll call it a date for later then. But for now, we have been awakened at this repulsively early hour for the purpose of paying homage to the Law Gods.”
“I suppose this can’t be any worse than the medical examination.”
“If you’re lucky.”
“Aren’t you cheery this morning, Jimmy? Lead on.”
The shifter kid shrugged, keeping his distance from the sparking and wildly flashing Exemplar, cringing at the occasional grunt of pain or swearword that she let slip as her unholy aura did something that either annoyed or hurt her. He knew that she couldn’t stop it any more than Compiler could quit going haywire, but it did grate that there was nothing he could do to help. Just like with all his Thornie buddies.
After a few minutes walking out into the cold, Jimmy looked at her. “Aren’t you cold? Most kids on campus can’t handle walking outside with just a t-shirt, jeans and some fingerless gloves.”
Caitlin shrugged. “I picked up a lot of resistance to temperature when I manifested, plus I grew up in Alaska, so this wouldn’t bother me even before. It’s what, Twenty-Two degrees? Easy money here.”
Jimmy chuckled. “Funny, Kodiak says the same thing.”
“Kodiak would be a tolerable human being if he didn’t gleefully hang out with the campus Douchebag brigade.”
“Agreed, but you gotta admit, there are worse people in the Alphas.”
“Like all of them?”
“Exactly.” Jimmy grinned.
Caitlin rolled her eyes. “I’d rather hang out with the other Outcasts. At least they don’t try to pretend to be better than everyone else.”
Jimmy grinned slightly, “And I have to agree with you, even if Jericho’s a bit off-putting and Diamondback’s a bit too moody for my taste.”
Caitlin snorted. “Usually it’s Razorback that I hear people bitching about. Was he really that bad last year?”
Jimmy nodded. “Worse, actually. For the longest time I actually thought he was murderous. When he first got here it was like watching a wild animal trapped in a small space, surrounded by food. It wasn’t till a few people bothered to learn sign language that he stopped trying to habitually bite off limbs put too close in his direction.”
“So what changed?”
“He mauled someone he liked. It didn’t help that Aries was provoking him the whole time. Razor was antisocial, hostile, tended to growl at anyone who got close. The only person he’d let near him is Spider over in Dickinson.”
“Spider?” Caitlin ransacked her brains for a few moments, and brought the image of a dark-haired Australian girl with the lithe frame of an elf of fantasy novel fame. “Oh you mean Koala?”
“Don’t let her hear you call her that. She despises the fact that she got stuck with that codename.” Jimmy chuckled. “She doesn’t get on well with the other elfy types on campus. Hell, the last time one of ‘em tried to claim she was a Baroness and that Spider needed to recognize her nobility, Spider had a full-on Diedricks’ moment, only with less screaming and more throwing of pulse charges and Electron-accelerator cannon shooting.”
“Heh. That sounds like Koala.” Caitlin grinned to herself. She’d absolutely adored driving that girl batshit calling her by her codename… constantly… even when it was unnecessary. “I’m guessing the Sidhe types got a hard lesson in the difference between Fae, and a human with pointy ears?”
“Ohhh yeah.” Jimmy grinned. “Razorback has the recording somewhere. He brings it out when the dorm needs a morale boost.”
“I’m not surprised. That sounds like something he’d do.”
“Oh yeah. Razor’s a real character once you actually get to know him. He spent most of last year in the last semester biting his tongue damn near off, literally, whenever his temper started spiking. This year it’s like night and day.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“So what’s your story?”
Caitlin stopped for a second and considered. “My story’s long, involved, and uncomfortable for me to talk about. Needless to say I didn’t always look like this; in fact I was kind of a dog.”
“It’s an improvement, I’m sure.” Jimmy turned toward Schuster Hall. “I’m just glad your change to how you look now didn’t go to your head.”
“If I ever start acting like Majestic, or any other poncy little shit with a sense of entitlement, feel free to break out the long knives, it means I’m an imposter.”
“Will do.”
Caitlin grinned. “Thanks Jimmy.”
“For what?”
The sparking, metallic-haired girl shrugged. “Helping me forget stupid shit with a good laugh, even if it doesn’t last long.”
Jimmy grinned from ear-to-ear… literally. “Always glad to lighten a dark mood. Unfortunately we’re here, so you need to get your game-face on Caitlin.”
“Eldritch when we’re around the suck-suits please Jimmy.”
“Gotcha.”
Caitlin looked at the mixed bag of about seven students waiting in the woodworks to talk to the MCO. None of them looked thrilled to be there, and she saw at least three frightened looks. She sighed, suppressing feelings of hatred as she saw the three dark-suited agents of the Mutant Commission Office. It wouldn’t help her cause to show outright hostility and anger. Dollars to donuts, the agents present were unaware of the existence of Butcher’s Row.
That didn’t change the fact that one of the agents looked right at her and got a hard look. Great. He was expecting her, and he’d already decided she was a shithead, whether it be her appearance - which was just off-human enough to be disturbing to the unprepared - or the fact that she was bedecked from head to toe in mystic sigils. In any case, whatever it was he didn’t like about her was more or less irrelevant.
“Miss Bardue, come with me please.” The man’s demeanor was like a dog chomping at the bit to bite someone. Caitlin’s face creased up with a pleasant smile that for once wasn’t forced.
If he wanted to fuck with her, she was going to fuck back.
Caitlin simply walked into the office he indicated and sat down in the chair, ignoring the fold-out biometric scanner sitting next to the chair. She made herself comfortable and even remembered to fold one ankle over the other in a fashion Diamondback had told her was something more dignified than her usual Poor White Trash mode of seating that involved a controlled flop and sprawl that could occupy most of a common room couch.
The agent settled behind the card table he’d been allowed as a desk during his tenure at Whateley, shuffling through files, and finding one. He made a big show of opening it and flipping through the paperwork. Once he was done, he looked up at the girl who sat stock-still, unmoving, watching him… and was slightly unnerved. She almost looked like a statue except for the slow breaths she was taking.
“Miss Bardue, my name is Agent Stephen Collins, and I will be conducting your interview today. For the purposes of the MCO and TSA I am required to record this conversation. Do you have any objections?”
“Well, yeah I do considering the contents of this interview are protected by international law and under the privacy act of 1974.” Caitlin smirked. She knew one thing about cops of any stripe, that if you gave them what they asked for without giving them more one could aggravate the shit out of a lot of them. Not that she considered MCO goons to be cops…
Agent Collins’ eyes narrowed as he scrutinized her quietly. “And how would you be under that impression?”
“My adopted father works here at Whateley with mutant kids every day. How do you think I know that?” Caitlin suppressed an internal grin. This could be fun, even if under normal circumstances she despised people who tried to rules-lawyer their way out of things.
“Well, this interview isn’t protected by that law.”
“Well then if that be the case I’ll go get Dad right now and he can sit in on the interview. Be right back.”
Caitlin started to get up while Collins glared bullets at her. “Sit. I’m sure that won’t be necessary.”
Caitlin smiled sweetly. “Good to hear. Turn the recorder off.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“You can or I’ll turn it off and get Delarose down here and you can discuss privacy laws pertaining to minors with him.” Caitlin thought for a minute. “Oh and Mrs. Carson. I’m sure she’d be absolutely thrilled to hear your interpretation of the laws pertaining to MID interviews.”
Caitlin again suppressed a smile as Collins got a face like he was chewing on a turd. The man reached over, visibly clicked off the recorder at the corner of the table and placed it inside a briefcase which he judiciously closed and locked. She leaned forward and helpfully picked up a pen and used the end to click on the silence generator he was supposed to have active to prevent bugs, shotgun mikes, or even regular eavesdroppers from listening in.
“There we go.” She gave the sour agent a smug look. “I’m ready to continue, how about you?” Hell, if she could keep him occupied for a sufficient amount of time, none of the other kids waiting would have to suffer this douchebag’s attention.
Collins took a moment and composed himself. Caitlin locked his eyes and held them silently. That’s right asshole, I play hardball. You’re up to bat now, let’s see if you strike out.
“The file given me by the school here says you are a WIZ, a Devisor, an Exemplar and an Esper. May I ask why the Wiz and Devisor ratings don’t have classification numbers?”
Caitlin nodded. “I’m unclassed there because we can’t get a solid read on it due to this delightful little lightshow. There’s been a lot of speculation, but until I can consciously focus even a little bit or direct it, not a damn thing can be done because the whole magic thing fluctuates from harmless, to obnoxious, to painful, and then up to very-likely-lethal, depending on how fast and hard I’m moving. The Devisor slant seems interlocked, so no one’s really sure what the hell I can do.”
“So you have absolutely zero control over who it affects or how?”
“More or less. It’s one of the many reasons I dislike getting physically approached. I don’t want someone else being injured by accident.”
“What about by intent?”
“What about it?”
“Can you harm someone with it intentionally?”
“Can a spork actually be used as a deadly weapon?” Caitlin’s return question was entirely facetious. She’d seen Prison Bitch gouge out someone’s jugular vein with a spork once.
“Why are you being uncooperative?”
“I’ll be cooperative the instant you stop trying to shimmy around U.S. Law and quit asking me inane and pointless questions that would only be incriminating in the future if the MCO decides it doesn’t like me.”
“Young lady don’t you even dream you get to dictate how this interview will be conducted.”
“Fine, fuck you, I’ll have Dad pop the paperwork for a retiree dependant MMID.”
Collins stopped as Caitlin uttered the words he didn’t want to hear. Military Mutant I.D. cards were a blank spot in the MCO records. The only time the military ever shared that information with any outside agency was posthumously, or in the one case of a mutant soldier going on a six-state killing spree when his girlfriend cheated on him during a deployment.
Caitlin looked the man in the eye. “I’m only cooperating as much as I am as a courtesy to the Headmistress’ desire to have this school not be listed as an enemy of the establishment. However, if you do not conduct the rest of this interview in the regulation fashion as laid down by TSA guidelines and federal law, this interview is over, comprendé?”
Collins was angry. This girl was not a typical, scared teenager afraid of scrutiny. He much preferred the scared ones; they were far more easily guided into whatever he wanted them to say. Trout had warned him that the girl was a handful, but he hadn’t warned him that she was actually smart and educated in mutant law enforcement procedure.
“Step through the scanner.” Collins waved at the odd metal-detector looking thing.
Caitlin snorted and stepped through. The scanner gave an odd buzzing noise she’d never heard on one of the things.
“Step through again.” Collins leaned forward and pulled a control device out and began tweaking it.
Once again, Caitlin stepped though. Once again the scanner gave that odd buzzing noise.
“Why are your biometrics not reading? All I’m getting is a mana surge reading.”
“Couldn’t tell you even if I were so inclined. None of the medical scanners here did us any good either. The docs were mumbling something about heavy internal GSD.” Caitlin declined to mention that according to the docs she was effectively made of some kind of rock, and Grimes had identified her as some sort of mystical golem construct.
“All right, no helping it. Step through one more time. I’m going to use the mana spike as your biometric pattern.”
“Great. More stupid magic bullshit.”
Collins looked up quietly as she stepped through again. He’d never actually heard a WIZ mutant express distaste for magic before.
“All right, let’s get back to business. Have you come up with some sort of Codename?”
Caitlin nodded. “Eldritch, and I did some research. The last person to haul around that moniker died in ‘82.”
Collins nodded, restraining himself while he typed in the data. “So why exactly did you pick that name?”
“I didn’t. Razorback did. I’m just running with it because it seems to fit.”
He cocked his head. “Razorback?”
Caitlin smiled and said nothing.
“Names of parents?” Collins looked up from the computer.
“Deceased, and I’m not feeding you the names of my blood relations, sorry.”
Collins bit back another comment. He knew this girl would rip him up over demanding said information, which was marked as optional due to U.S. laws about that. “Do you have a guardian’s name that I can use?”
“Since I have his permission, yes. Gunnery Sergeant Oscar C. Bardue, USMC, retired.”
Collins entered the data, then looked up. “Permanent address of record?”
Caitlin sighed. She hated this part of her so-called cover. “Whateley Academy. I got nowhere else to go.”
“Any other oddball powers or abilities that need to be put on the MID?”
“Nope.”
Collins nodded and began typing data before going into his file sets and began copying information. Caitlin surreptitiously craned her neck and looked at it, seeing what he was looking at. What little she saw made her blood boil rather abruptly. It took every ounce of self-control she’d developed since High School, the first time, to keep from going absolutely psychotic.
When Collins finished he printed out her card and handed it to her. Where he’d gotten the photo… She was going to have a chat with someone about that. Government-issue I.D.’s were required to take photo on-site as the card was being made. But what really burned her ass, beyond a lot of data that the MCO should not know was the little warning statement in fire-engine red lettering.
She set the card down and gave Collins the gimlet eye, the runes in her irises were already heating to molten as she pointed at the red letters. “Take… that… off.”
“No.”
“The MCO is not allowed to issue DFA’s to U.S. Citizens, and doing so with a minor is a double-shot federal violation.”
“Take it to Court then. It’s not my problem.”
“And where, did you get the idea that I had all of this training the card says I have?”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss that.”
Caitlin’s dark mood twisted and warped into a sickeningly delicious feeling of vindication and she gave the MCO agent the first God’s-Honest smile she’d given him all day. “Very well, you want to play? We will play. I’m going to burn down the house that Jack built.”
“Is that a threat young lady?”
“Hope you’ve got a good lawyer, fucktard. You’re gonna be needing him in about three months.”
Collins snorted. He’d won the round, and in every single case where a U.S. Citizen had fought the DFA warning in court it had gone nowhere and bogged down in proceedings.
Caitlin was grinning evilly as she stormed out. She was thinking the same thing, only she knew for a fact that none of the DFA’s being fought were held by persons under the age of eighteen. She had to restrain herself from practically skipping to Carson’s office to see the Wicked Bitch of Silicon. If there was one thing Hartford and Caitlin as Mahren agreed upon, this little Death threat from the MCO was one of them.
Caitlin crackled her way into Schuster Hall and waltzed straight up to Amelia Hartford’s desk. Sitting next to the desk was a girl with one arm and a prosthetic, a feline tail, and cat ears. Caitlin mentally shrugged when she realized that Hartford wasn’t wearing her cool aura of distaste she normally affected for the GSD crowd. It had happened before, and she knew Hartford could really care less what a kid looked like so long as the school-rat in question was in some way redeemable or interesting.
Hartford’s calm disappeared as she sneered at Caitlin. “What do you want?”
“Not much ma’am, just a moment of your time before I talk to Carson and Delarose about something.” Caitlin glanced at the catgirl, who seemed oddly entranced by something, and was staring, glassy-eyed into space. “In private if possible.”
Hartford scowled, looked over at the catgirl, and nodded. “Paige should be occupied for a while, so I have time to talk.” She stood up and led Caitlin into the same conference room they had talked in just a short time ago.
“What is it Caitlin? I believe I was rather clear about how you should expect to approach this office.”
“And I’m in full agreement, Amelia.” Caitlin’s voice changed ever-so-slightly, rather like Mahren’s did when he’d needed to talk about something that needed done, all antagonism aside. “They finally did it.”
“Did what?”
Caitlin carefully slid out the MID card and handed it to the most reviled woman on campus. “There’s a bunch of shit on there the MCO should have no reference for, and they have officially given a DFA to a minor.”
Hartford scanned the card carefully, scowling. The only way that anyone could have found a record of Caitlin’s combat and weapons expertise would have been from Delarose’s personal files that he’d culled and modified to account for the new student. When her eyes reached the red lettering Caitlin imagined she could see Amelia’s blood pressure spike to lethal levels.
“What the bloody, fucking hell? Has the MCO lost their goddamned minds?” Hartford stared at the little piece of plastic incredulously. “And what is this file reference?”
“That is a file tagged in Delarose’s records that he is only authorized to access in the event that Corporal Erik Andrew Mahren were to act in an aggressive fashion against Whateley Academy. It’s tagged eyes-only, and the MCO should not even know about the filing number, much less what’s inside.”
“Can they access it?”
Caitlin snorted. “Fuck no they can’t. I’ll give Pearson one thing, she may be a cunt, but she’s dead-on about never sharing information with the MCO. Delarose would have to, in person, ask for a military courier to deliver said file.”
Hartford nodded. “I’ll decline my curiosity and forget I saw that. But the Deadly-Force marker, on a minor?”
“I’ve seen them do worse, Hartford.” Caitlin growled. “But that’s neither here nor there. The thing I was going to ask, is there anything you can do to fuck them? Fifty bucks says I’m not the only student they’ve tipped a DFA to, and the whole thing skips the constitutional right to due process. The MCO is explicitly forbidden from pulling this shit on any US citizen, overseas or not.”
“Yes, but all of the court cases being pursued are being bogged down by MCO lawyers and Goodkind money.”
Caitlin grinned. “Yeah, but the courts have never had a case where the subject in question is not only a US citizen, but a minor with no criminal history.”
Hartford blinked. “Oh my God.”
“Yup. I’d prefer you use OTHER kids as your crusade point, but if the MCO neglected to do this to any other kids I’ll play the part of scared kid who’s been issued a death warrant by the man.” Caitlin got a wild-eyed look. “I can’t leave campus because the MCO guys can shoot me for jaywalking!” her voice sounded sufficiently panicked.
Hartford considered, and then got the most patently evil grin she’d ever displayed. “Thank you Caitlin. You’ve just given me the opportunity to pay back a lot of wrongs. This will not stand, not with children.”
Caitlin nodded. “Have a fucking party Hartford, bring booze and snacks. While you’re having fun at the Jackboots’ expense, I’m gonna call out the dogs.”
Hartford looked at Caitlin. “Just how many dogs do you have under your belt?”
Caitlin just smiled in a happy way that Hartford knew boded ill for anyone who crossed her path.
As the severe, blonde woman came back out, followed by the sparking Artificer, she nodded. “Go right in, Carson will forgive us the interruption.” Hartford blinked and caught herself. “Caitlin wait don’t…” It was too late. She’d just sent Caitlin Bardue into a meeting with Carson and Reverend Englund, discussing the situation in Hell’s Kitchen.”
“Oh shit.”
Caitlin restrained her impulses quite well when Darren Englund turned back to see who was coming in the door and locked eyes with the sparking girl. Her eyes went molten at the sight of him, and a low, inhuman rumble began somewhere in her chest. She did not, however, give in to her immediate impulse to reach forward and rip his face off. Englund’s eyes went wide and his face went abruptly pale as he recognized the girl Gunny Bardue had warned him off. He knows, was the first thought that slashed through Caitlin’s mind. Another good reason to introduce him to God, personally.
Englund got up, and held his composure, somewhat. “Mrs. Carson I believe we can continue this conversation over the phone. I need to catch up with Charlie anyway before we lose our chance at bringing this ‘angel’ out of this situation alive.”
Carson nodded, never taking her eyes off the girl in the doorway. The ex-superhero headmistress didn’t even allow herself to blink as Englund tried to wiggle his way around Caitlin. “Caitlin, come here and sit down.”
The girl continued that odd growl as she slid just enough out of the way for Englund to retreat. She didn’t turn back until he was gone and the door closed. Carson was literally the only thing standing between the man and a gruesome death at Caitlin’s hands. So long as she was still the headmistress, Englund was nominally safe.
Caitlin got a sour look and took a deep breath, closing her eyes, counting back from twenty. When she finished she was still contemplating murder, but no longer directly fighting the urge to chase him out of Schuster hall and tear him to ribbons. She turned to Carson, who was watching impassively. Caitlin gingerly sat down, trying to keep the sparking terror at bay with slow motions.
“For a moment there I thought you were going to do something rash.” Elizabeth Carson wasn’t the most sympathetic to the good Reverend’s plight, but she couldn’t afford him dead… yet.
Caitlin growled out slowly, “I’m saving it for the next time he so much as twitches in the direction of endangering another person at this school again.” The tacit, unspoken understanding was that if Englund ever tried to pull anything like what happened on Halloween, Erik Mahren, and thusly Caitlin, had dibs on the preacher-man’s ass.
“Have you been taking your medications?”
Caitlin shook her head. “They aren’t working. Right now the only thing keeping me leveled off is Outcast Corner. I gotta hand it to them; they know how to keep the bleeding edge of anger pushed back.”
“I’m happy to hear it, though I want your honest, professional opinion before we go further.” Caitlin nodded and forced her anger back in the box she kept it in as Carson spoke. “Do I need to have you issued an Ultraviolent armband?”
That hurt, even though she knew this time it was nothing personal. Caitlin had spent the better part of five years proving to Carson that underneath the bullshit, she was a decent human being. However, she also forced herself to acknowledge that Carson had a responsibility to protect the kids. Regardless of her current predicament, Caitlin felt the same way in regards to herself.
The nod came grudgingly. “Yeah I do, Carson. I really think I’m going to need to have the warning out. I’m not like the ragers here so much, but, like you know, I was diagnosed with PTSD and Intermittent Explosive Disorder, so I can’t promise that without the medication working I won’t go thermal on someone.”
Carson nodded. “You do realize that I’m not asking you because I don’t trust you?”
Caitlin snorted. “If I were wearing your pants right now I’d be doing the same thing, much as I hate to admit it. I’d like to say I’d be fine, but I know me, when I go off I don’t just bull-rush the nearest person and start pounding. I just start using everything I have, or can get a hold of, until someone stops me and pins my ass to the floor.”
“What are your limitations when you are having an episode?”
“Carson, you’re the one who saved my life on Halloween. My worst-case thus far has been jacking an antigravity flyer and using it to kill a lot of syndicate personnel. My ‘episode’ started long before that happened.”
“I’m sorry to bring up bad memories, Caitlin, but I have to know.”
Caitlin nodded. “Yeah, well, I’m not going to get over it by sitting on it and bottling it up forever. That’s done me so well in the past.”
“And you won’t talk to the Psychiatrists, or even Fubar about what’s eating at you?”
“Carson, I can’t talk to the shrinks about what’s been eating at me. I pretty much told you what was eating at me back when I started here. It all starts there, why you hired me.”
“Against my better judgment I might add.” Carson smiled warmly. “I’m very glad that I was wrong about you.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Caitlin sighed. “I violated clearances when I told you about my team, Carson. You know that already. Sam knows I did, I used to pull a bunch of my shit alongside the SEALs, and I got a lot of my orders from Everhart at the time.”
“That’s why you won’t talk to Bellows?”
“Bellows would need to get a clearance level that I don’t even have, to hear the shit I have to say.” Caitlin smirked. “You know it’s a sad day when bureaucracy decides you aren’t allowed to know that you exist.”
Carson chuckled despite herself. “I have not told anyone what you told me, not even Frank Delarose. I can, however, be here to talk if you need it Caitlin. No one should have to shoulder things alone, and you can’t even get your old teammates to talk to regularly, especially not now.”
“Yeah, see, that might be a problem boss.” Caitlin got another sour look. “We promised each other we’d keep an eye out, and if one of us went silent, the others would start hunting for the missing man. We cover each others’ asses.”
“Will this endanger anyone on campus?”
“Hard to say.” Caitlin looked out the window. “Sooner or later, one of ‘em will come looking for me or Cat. I went silent and stopped talking after Halloween. I don’t think they realize she’s gone yet.”
Carson blinked. “Cat knew them?” Carson had never heard Erik talk about any of his buddies, save peripherally, and even then only by their radio callsigns.
“Only as my unruly buddies, boss. Cat didn’t ask too many questions about us.”
“How problematic will this be?”
“Depends on who gets curious.” Caitlin looked back at the headmistress. “If it’s Heckel or Jeckel, no worries, flat out. Believe it or not, you know them. They said they were in your English Class once upon a time, but I’ll leave it at that.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because Worm might come, and the man has a deathwish. He wants to die, bad, but he doesn’t have it in him to pull the trigger himself.” Caitlin sighed. “If someone challenges him hard, he’ll push back until the situation comes to a head and around here that would likely be fatal for him. Heckel and Jeckel have identity issues, sometimes they lose track of who they are, where they actually are or what they’re doing. We all got pretty fucked up, and all of us are in dire need of medication and counseling.”
Carson nodded. “And the others?”
“Messenger was the most stable, but loud noises can set him off. He had to drop artillery on our own heads a time or two.” Caitlin sighed. “The Ell-Tee doesn’t really have much of a clue, but he’ll probably be the most sane to talk to. He went through the least amount of bullshit.”
“That’s six, you mentioned there were seven at one point.”
“Prison Bitch.” Caitlin looked at Carson intently. “Compress the third security platoon into one man and you know Bitch. I don’t want him to be the one to get curious, because I don’t want him on campus near the kids. He’s the one I flat told if he stepped onto campus grounds without an escort I’d kill him myself.”
“This does seem problematic on the surface.” Carson considered. “However, these are the men who protected the Parkour Hooligans back in September, yes?”
Caitlin nodded. “Yup. They don’t hate mutants any more than I do. They just hate the mutant assholes over at M-SOC as much as I do. More in the case of Heckel and Jeckel.”
“Can you give me names and descriptions?”
Caitlin grimaced, unhappy. “You know I can’t Carson. In the off-chance they don’t come I can’t put my boys at risk any more than I can put the kids there.”
“Then we need to give them some kind of word, so that they don’t start hunting for you. Do you think you can let me do that much?”
“I hate this.”
“I’m not fond either, but I would rather your friends not risk exposing themselves by seeking you out. Thrasher’s been silent, but as you said several months ago, Caitlin: We need to let the bogeyman die.”
Caitlin nodded. “Phone please. Just hit the speaker.”
Carson nodded and pushed the phone over and Caitlin gingerly picked up a pen and began tapping out the phone number that came to mind first. The twin brothers had always been her closest friends in the Corps. They deserved to hear it first.
The phone rang and a little girl picked up the reciever. “Hello?”
“Miss, my name is Elizabeth Carson at Whateley Academy. I’m calling in regards to Erik Mahren, may I speak to your father please?”
“Daddy there’s a lady on the line that wants to talk to Uncle Erik. Is he here?”
Caitlin almost choked.
They could actually hear thundering footfalls and a man’s voice. “Give it here, sweetie. Hello? This is Jeckel.”
“Mister… Jeckel, I am Elizabeth Carson. I was recently given your name as a possible point of contact for Erik Mahren.”
“What’s up? Is Erik okay?”
Caitlin screwed up her courage and caught Carson’s eye. “Don’t lie to him” she mouthed silently.
“I’m afraid I am not the bearer of good tidings, sir.” Carson sighed. “I have been appraised that you are aware of the purpose of Whateley Academy, and Erik Mahren’s function here.”
“Yeah, what happened? Erik’s gone silent. Haven’t heard from him since Boston.”
“Sir I must regretfully inform you that on October 31st, Whateley Academy was attacked by parties connected to the Syndicate. Caitlin McQuiston was killed defending the Academy, which led Erik Mahren to have a near-lethal late manifestation of mutant traits later on.”
“Holy mother of fuck, Mrs. Carson, is my school still standing? And is Erik going to be okay?”
“Yes the school is still standing. No children were seriously injured or taken in the action, largely because of Erik, Cat and a few other notables among the Staff and student body.”
“Erik’s not going to make it is he?”
“The prognosis is not good. Erik has been officially transferred over to ARC Black due to his manifestation of an explosive and uncontrollable WIZ trait. It’s pretty much already destroyed who he is, and we aren’t expecting Erik to ever recover and neither is the ARC staff.”
Caitlin sighed sadly even as the weight was somewhat lifted. She really was letting go, letting things rest, and it hurt.
“How long does he have?”
“Honestly sir, it’s impossible to communicate with Erik any longer. We’re simply waiting for him to go peacefully.”
“And it’s Black Complex. No visitors. Was it that bad?”
“Could have been much worse had certain parties not intervened. But no, there can be no visitors. With Cat gone, perhaps it may be best to leave the man to rest in peace.”
“Fuck. I’ll pass the word. This is going to sound weird, but Erik had a medallion of Saint George with Corporal Chevrons cut on one side with Hijacker engraved on it. If Mahren’s in Black, the body is done, but I’d like to ask you to find that pendant so we can lay it to rest with the others. We’d like to do that much.”
Carson looked at Caitlin, and saw the recently-minted girl nod slightly. She slid a gold-colored neck chain with a medallion of Saint George from a pocket and slid it across the desk. One more bogeyman down.
“We have the pendant, sir. I will arrange that it be delivered to a location of your choosing.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Carson. I’ll just come by Whateley with my brother and pick it up at Schuster Hall. We’ll be along in a few days, but we won’t be in your hair long. It’s been a while since I saw Emerson Hall anyway. Felicis Fossor.” The line clicked dead.
“Felicis Fossor?”
Caitlin chuckled despite herself. “It was our motto in the corps.”
“Lucky fools?”
“Always fear the lucky idiot with a gun, boss. He may be an idiot, but he’s still lucky, and he has a gun.”
Carson gave Caitlin an odd look then started laughing despite herself.
Caitlin smiled slightly and straightened up. “Look Carson, this walk down memory lane’s been cathartic, and it’s nice that I can talk to someone, but if I have to deal with any more of this shit today I’m going to get an androgynous haircut and go Emo on you.”
“Must you always be flip about your emotions?”
“Yeah, because if I don’t laugh at them even the good ones hurt.” Caitlin pushed the extra crap out of her mind. “But thank you for derailing me from my happy-go-kill-someone mood. I betcha with what I just gave Hartford, there’s a few motherfuckers about to have a very, very bad day.”
“What did you do?”
“Retribution. Someone sold my data sheet to the MCO.”
Carson blinked as Caitlin once again carefully passed over the MID card that had brought her here originally. Carson nodded slowly, than began checking the card. Her face became troubled as she read the listings of Caitlin’s combat training, and when she reached the bright red Death Warrant Caitlin saw the headmistress’ eyes go to slits as she hissed out a breath. “Oh hell no. Someone’s going to PAY for this one…”
The conversation went about the way Caitlin expected it to go. Dog two unleashed upon the poor fuckers in the Mutant Comission Office. Dogs three and four would be the FUN ones, even if normally Caitlin would rather have a root canal than deal with the fourth.
Caitlin grinned as she walked away from the security office. Nothing helped a bad mood like spreading it around. Security Chief Franklin Delarose had simply gone very silent and calm when he looked at the MID card. Caitlin knew he was less worried about the DFA and more spitting fury over the contents of her MID information, information held in one place and one place alone: his personal files on the Academy students.
Delarose simply ran a cross-check, pulling up MID cards and comparing the data in the official files to the confidential ones. Sure enough the ones tagged for Deadly Force Authorization, and often, true power classification, on said cards could only have come from his own files. Eldritch, Razorback, Tennyo, Fey, Carmilla, Imperious, Counterpoint, Stormwolf, and about a dozen other kids were tagged with the Deadly Force classification.
Caitlin whistled a random tune as she thought of the fact that some poor fucker was very soon going to wish he were dead. Delarose was not some laid back chump who flew a desk because it was the place to be to kick back and enjoy the perks. The old bastard was relentless when he found something to dig his teeth into, and it was only a matter of time. Caitlin would have been hard-pressed to not lay money on third platoon being the culprit. Some distant, evil, vindictive portion of her mind dearly hoped Sergeant Buxton would be caught as the culprit, or Lieutenant Trout.
She ducked and weaved the student body, sparking and zapping her way to a place where the military recruiters invariably hid out during combat finals. These guys she left nominally alone, only torturing one when she was feeling particularly obnoxious. Their normal M.O. was to check up on the Grunts surreptitiously, rather than actively trying to poach students. Uncle Sam was investing a lot in the Whateley JROTC program, and jealously watched over it just to ensure the money was being well spent.
Range Six wasn’t a range. It was a small bunker set among the woods and hills near the Academy. The chosen hang-out point of the Grunts, hardly anyone was aware of its existence. Also, mostly unknown was the spider hole that the military had their watchdogs occupy on occasion, well off the beaten track. The “recruiters” were invariably naval psych officers who would pop in to talk to the Grunts without the teachers around, to make sure that the kids’ heads were actually still on the military track. Mutant kids were twitchy enough that the US Armed Services wanted to make sure that this was what the kids wanted, so that the normal behaviors among new recruits who were becoming disillusioned and looking for ways out could be avoided.
Caitlin popped open the spider hole and looked down at the startled young woman hiding in the little box compartment. “BOO!”
The young woman wasn’t exactly poster-child materiel, but she wasn’t a dog either. Caitlin looked at her quietly for a moment then spoke. “I have a courier data transfer for M-SOC Naval and M-SOC PACMAR, do not ask me what the fuck it means, but get your fucking pen out and stand by to copy.”
The young officer blinked, still startled, then nodded.
Caitlin pulled out a piece of paper and unfolded it carefully. The paper was blank, but she wanted to make it look like she was an actual messenger. “First message, M-SOC Naval, whoever is in command, Warning Alert, code Bravo-Seven-Hijacker. Delta Sierra, SOC. The MCO is issuing DFA’s to minor citizens of the USA, Whateley Academy students have been targeted, very likely others as well. Butcher’s Row is starting again.”
“How do you know authentication codes? How did you know how to find me?”
Caitlin grinned. “Look lady, I don’t know what the hell this is all about, I’m just following instructions left in Erik Mahren’s last will and testament.”
“And the second message?”
Caitlin grinned again. “This one’s fun, for one Colonel Pearson, from Erik Mahren. Reads as follows: I’m dead, bitch, take my name off the fucking blotter. I’ll see your sorry ass in hell.”
The woman blinked.
“Write it down and have it delivered, woman, I don’t wanna have to repeat it.”
“That’s a bit… crude for a message to a colonel.”
Caitlin shrugged. “The instructions from mister dead guy say to say it word for word, otherwise she won’t have a reason to believe its authenticity.”
“How did Mahren die?”
“Late-stage mutant manifestation resulting in terminal burnout.” Caitlin shook her hand and her aura flashed azure, and the paper puffed out in a sparkling haze of snowflakes that fell on the woman. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go have me some breakfast, and then go pick up my courier check from the provost.”
Caitlin stood up and unceremoniously dropped the lid on the spider-hole. She walked away, whistling. Dog four, turned loose. Even with all of the personal drama that she was trying to unfetter from her life, to maybe rebuild something resembling sanity, this was turning out to be a good day.
Majestic and Cytherea glowered darkly as the abomination they knew as Galatea waltzed right into the Crystal Hall dining area. The metal-haired thing sidled up to the chow line, loaded up and proceeded to plop down next to the mixed bag of freaks and losers she called friends. Imperious was watching intently, as though expecting something.
The two young women exchanged looks, and silently nodded to one another. Come hell or high water, they were going to make sure that Imperious didn’t acquire this new toy he wanted. No matter what it could mean for the New Olympians, the Artificers were harbingers of chaos and destruction when bound. In one of the last times this particular one had showed up, a quarter of Athens, Greece had burned in the homicidal construct’s bid to destroy any competition for Pygmalion’s attention. The wonders that flowed from Pygmalion’s workshop had devastated far too much, as greedy Senators and petty sorcerers took the opportunity to destroy their rivals in the ensuing mayhem. And to cap the whole thing, the creature’s destruction had more or less obliterated the entire quarter of the city she had been frantically disassembling.
Even if it meant losing a chance to touch the higher planes, the Artificer had to remain unbound to anyone’s will, mortal or otherwise. The risk of the raw potential of the thing falling into anyone’s hands and overwhelming the sense of the master was too great. Contained within that exotic, yet so very mortal-appearing shell laid the seeds of too many catastrophes, where the world itself seemed to lash out to end the threat.
“I don’t think that batty devisor and his pet lizard took me very seriously yesterday.” Imperious got a long-suffering look.
“It’s Jericho, what were you expecting?” Stygian’s eternally-depressed nature shone through yet again as he deadpanned his comment.
“I would have thought him intelligent enough to not try and test me.”
Cytherea rolled her eyes. “Imperious, you have no idea how stubborn that boy is. Even the animal he rooms with assaults Alphas on his off-time, and they’re seen to be the top of the heap.”
“He resist your charms, Cytherea?”
“He’s blind. Glamours and impressive auras don’t function without the visual component too, and you know it, so even your mighty lord presence is lost on the devisor.”
Majestic leaned forward. “Perhaps a different track might be in order?”
“What do you have in mind?”
“The snake.”
Cytherea cackled wickedly. “Oh that is perfect. Diamondback’s too shy and unassuming. If someone were to pressure her, the message would be passed along. Just don’t do it near the Fury Twins. She’ll crack if she can’t hide behind her brick friends.”
“Perhaps it might be time to approach Galatea directly.” Imperious had an eager look to him that everyone recognized. He was hungering for her body as much as he wanted her mystic crafting talents. “I already have the binding ink prepared and ready. Jericho and the speedster might not be particularly pliable, but the girl won’t be much problem. She’ll likely be grateful for the assistance controlling her aura.”
Majestic watched him staring across the Crystal Hall with an angry, conniving eye. She’d be damned before she let him sideline her for some pliable tart! “Perhaps, but since when do you approach someone else like some common beggar? You command, or she will come to you out of desperation or gratitude. A word in the correct ear could very well provoke the response we seek.” The response that I seek anyway.
“Then we need to ensure the right words reach the right ears, now don’t we?”
Stygian rolled his eyes. “Of course, let’s be circumspect in collecting a hot little piece of ass. Have fun with this one, I’m going back to my dorm room.” The gaunt, broken boy got up and walked out the door, somehow managing not to look at anyone directly.
Imperious scowled at the departing ghost-caller and looked to Cytherea. “Do put words in the right ears, my dear. I’d hate for us to be interrupted by Carson or that bint Circe before we’re finished.”
“Oh don’t worry about that, dear one. I know all the right things to say to the scaly little Miss Outcast.” Cytherea stood and shared a wicked smirk with Majestic. It was time to put a little bug in the ear of Whitman’s most vicious, though unpolished, little rumormonger.
Chief Franklin Delarose looked up at Samantha Everhart as she walked into the room and closed the door. Delarose pulled a small device out of his pocket and clicked it on. The young-appearing woman winced, painfully. “Sorry Sam, but I need this conversation private.”
“Understood, Chief, just give me a second to filter that out.” The woman seemed to almost meditate for a few moments, then let out a breath. “Much better.”
“I have a rather serious problem, Miss Everhart. Apparently someone has found a way to access my unconnected and encrypted files. I have two people on this campus who I know are capable of doing this via their abilities, but Paige Donner has avoided this office like the plague and you already have the data due to Hive. And given that I have every single new officer monitored for a period of time, I know that you are not the source of the information leak.”
“Well thanks for the vote of confidence.”
Delarose chuckled. “Honestly Everhart, I’m wildly more concerned with someone who will do damage to my kids, and it seems I have missed just such a rat. You are going to help me find them.”
Sam got a serious look. “Is this about the MID cards? Carson pulled me in about thirty minutes ago on that one, considering I promised to keep a watch out on Nikki Reilly for her dad.”
“Yes this is about the MID cards. The data pulled from these cards that hit the MCO Deadly Force criteria came from my files. More specifically, the files I keep separate in case of emergencies. Caitlin’s MID is of particular interest, as it has a file referenced that I had the authorization codes to acquire from M-SOC MARPAC should my former Range 4 instructor ever show signs of going psychotic on the children.”
“What’s the file?” Sam’s eyes narrowed. “If it’s any of the files I think it is we could be in for a world of hurt, boss.”
Delarose pulled the reference and rotated the screen so Sam could see.
Sam blinked. Her enhanced memory drew that document out right away. She’d written a large portion of it. “That file, if released, would get seven very private individuals, who want to be left alone, very messily dead. Erik would have been one of them.”
“Do I need to know what is on that file?”
Sam considered, then shrugged. “I’m going to have to make this one a judgement call on your part, Sir. Just bear in mind, once that one’s out, it’s out and it has some nasty ramifications involved. Do I think it’s likely to become relevant any time soon? No, as a lot of the reports and files in that docket are written from a very biased and hostile slant towards the individuals in question.”
Delarose looked at her silently.
“Look sir, unless you are going to invoke that code authority to view the file, all I can tell you that yes, it pertains very much to Caitlin, yes she’s a nasty piece of work, and I served as Mahren’s commanding officer for a bit over two years on some seriously… problematic training. However, the only reason I would recommend that you look for it is if the MCO were to get their claws on it you would already be informed and be able to take steps.”
Delarose nodded. “Does anyone else know what is in that file?”
“Caitlin does. Beyond that I know Carson’s very likely been told a sliver of what’s in there, just enough to risk having her turn him into a greasy paste when he interviewed for the job.”
“What happens if that docket gets released to the general public?”
“The analysts think we’d have another Mutant Riots problem like back in ‘72. I’m not so sure about that, but there would be some backlash.”
“Would the MCO release the information?”
Sam shook her head. “No, they’d be even more interested in suppressing it than Uncle Sam. However, there’s that whole ‘seven messily dead men’ issue.”
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to invoke that authority. There are too many problematic and stupid factors revolving around our former range hand.”
Sam nodded. “It’s paper hardcopy only, no electronic file. No electronic file is to be made, no copies cut, and no release of information to any parties save yourself and anyone you deem relevant. Once you’re done reading it Delarose, I recommend you destroy it. Don’t hang onto it long enough for your information leak to get ahold of it.”
“You act as though national security rides on it.”
“Not so much national security as the good reputation this country is fighting to keep, and because like I said. It’s basically the death warrant for some good men.”
Delarose nodded. “Moving along, what was on the camera?”
Sam opened up a sheaf of photos and spread them out along the table. “Students, mostly around Hawthorne. Some you would expect, some you wouldn’t. The high-trouble ones in the batch are Eldritch, Razorback, Fey, Jimmy Trauger and of all people, Majestic. They’re the only students with multiple photos from different angles.”
“Since when do the Voodoos start using digital cameras?”
Sam shrugged. “Intel, most likely. I can see Majestic, Razor and Fey being enough threat to warrant it, but Caitlin and Jimmy T don’t make any sense.”
“Caitlin’s got a lot of things going that make her the center of attention in certain circles. Jimmy Trauger is a walking siege weapon.” Delarose looked at the photos. “Start keeping tabs on the kids in the pics and these five in particular. I don’t want the voodoos recruiting off our student body.”
Sam nodded. “What’s got my priority, the file theft or the Voodoo problem?”
Englund looked at Sam. “The files. Get Dodson on the horn and have him bring the monster squad out for shift work. They can do rotations keeping an eye on the kids.”
“Okay Chief. I’ll get on it.” Sam mentally flipped through the list of possible suspects who could possibly have found a way to access the chief’s files, and then had the sheer balls to turn the data over to the MCO. She decided to investigate Trout first, as she’d seen him on the receiving end of one of Caitlin’s shrieking tirades, unable to do anything about it.
“Bout time you got here, Sparky. We all thought you might have fallen into a toilet and gotten yourself flushed.” Diamondback grinned at Caitlin as she set her tray down.
“You know me, I had to get shit taken care of and take my glaucoma accelerant to buffer myself from Jericho’s clothing.”
The blind boy leaned back and grinned widely. “Ah my fan club arrives. Tell me how much you adore the kilt.”
Caitlin looked over at the devisor’s hideous ensemble. “I’m just fucking happy you don’t go commando like Bannockburn. There are just some things I don’t need to see while I eat.”
Phobos grinned evilly. “Well Bannock is kinda cute…”
“And at least you know what you’re getting yourself into…” Deimos only egged on the horrible image that had many times scarred Caitlin’s retinas.
“TMI! Good God, why do you do this to me?”
“Our petty revenge for the horny comment last night.” The dark-haired twin looked pleased with herself.
“Jesus, make one joke and pay for it for the rest of your life.”
“Oh admit it, if we didn’t you wouldn’t respect us in the morning.” When Phobos finished the comment, the Outcasts and friends began chuckling as Caitlin did her traditional thumping of the head on the cafeteria table a few times.
“You know, braining yourself won’t actually make the image go away Caitlin.” Jericho smiled evilly. “Besides, I know you fantasize about hunky guys in dresses.”
Caitlin groaned, face still planted on the table. “There just isn’t nearly enough alcohol in the world for this shit.”
Razorback saved Caitlin’s mind from further damage by surreptitiously plopping into his seat and making some very birdlike chirps and whistling noises, banging his hands on the table in a fashion only a speedster could do.
Caitlin looked over at him. “What’s that Lassie? Jericho’s fashion sense is trapped in the well again? Lead the way!”
The raptor kid chirped with amusement then started a rapid-fire series of hand-signs, of which Caitlin caught only the words “home” and “Christmas.” Razorback was like a kid in a candy store, and about three times as hyper.
Caitlin looked over at Diamondback. “Smee, translate.”
“In three days we’re gonna have a war!” Jericho cackled maniacally as Diamond dutifully completed the joke.
“And me without my happy thoughts.”
“If that fails, we have some extra-heavy Prozac we can give you.” Phobos grinned, almost hopefully.
“At discount prices, no less,” her sister continued.
Caitlin looked up and held a finger as Jana, in her centaur form, walked by to get back in the kitchen. “Check please.”
The girl smirked and cantered off.
“What the big dope with the speech impediment was trying to say,” Diamondback explained, “is that our flight is confirmed, Joe’s family is going to be en route to Australia on Sunday so they can get used to the Darwin heat, and we’ll be riding in the Overwatch Defense C-130.”
“Wow. That’s awesome, except for the C-130. Those birds blow chunks.” Caitlin gave the others a good grin. “You all going?”
“They are,” Deimos pointed at Jericho, Diamond and Razor. “Me’n sis here are going back to Montana for the holidays. Grandma’s hosting a big family party.”
“Rock on.”
“What you doing Caitlin?”
She looked over at the snake-girl who was rapidly turning into her partner-in-crime and shrugged. “I’ll probably just meander around here. Holidays aren’t my big thing, honestly.”
“Christmas break and you’re going to stay at school?” Jericho looked horrified. “Dude, not cool. What’s the Dad doing?”
Caitlin gave him a smirk as he referenced Gunny. “He’s probably going to do his usual thing, decorate a small tree, watch TV and relax.”
Razorback signed, Deimos helpfully translated. “You two need some serious help, you know that, right?”
“Nothing wrong with taking it easy while everyone’s stressing out.”
Everyone at the Outcast table stared at her like she’d grown a trout from her forehead.
“But... What about Christmas loot?” Diamondback was almost horrified at the thought of a Christmas with no presents, even if she only cared about the presents part.
“What was that Miss Wicca? Do I detect a Christian urging in your voice?”
“No Sparky, you’re detecting cool-stuff greed in my voice.” Diamondback grinned. “Just because I don’t buy into the Bible doesn’t mean all the holidays are reasons to rage against reality.”
“Don’t start this discussion Caitlin.” Jericho shook his head. “Sandra here could find a legitimate reason for just about anything, including circular logic.”
“Spoilsport.”
Caitlin chuckled. “Fine, fine. I give. No, I’ve never been huge on the whole...” She jerked abruptly as a loud crack and a flash of light erupted from the central areas of the Crystal hall. “Why the fuck is Imperious making lightning between his hands and staring at us?”
Jericho looked over at Razorback, and the two boys nodded, simultaneously standing, turning towards the New Olympians, and simultaneously doing the one-finger salute, arms crossed over in the full, traditional greeting. Razorback shrieked, and Jericho yelled across the abruptly silent Crystal hall.
“Why don’t you come over here and lick my nuts you poncy shit? The answer is NO!”
Imperious abruptly stood, then stopped as Diamond, Caitlin, Phobos and Deimos stood in response, chairs skidding away from too-strong bodies, resulting in an interesting staredown as the freak parade of Whateley Academy stood with each other. Caitlin’s aura crackled wildly, and each of Phobos and Deimos’ four hands crackled in azure/ruby energy that ran the length of their forearms.
Jericho ignored the rest of the Crystal Hall as many students surreptitiously vacated the space between the Outcasts and the New Olympians. “I don’t play games with this threat shit Jason, I play for keeps. Fuck with one of us and you fuck with all of us, so if you’re really feeling froggy and wanna see what the monsters can do, JUMP!” His Texas twang was in full-force today, and he scowled.
“You really have no idea what you’re getting yourself into Jericho.” The response was slow, cool, as though it was just the two of them.
“If you think you can take us on here, now, in front of the school, then step.” Jericho gave an internal snarl. “Come on, oh he who would be a God. Come on and play with the damned titans!”
Imperious and the other New Olympians literally dismissed the Outcasts as one and went back to their meal. It was a clear message. The New Olympians didn’t consider punishing them to be worth their time. From the corners, Judicator, Knick-Knack, Prism and Feral watched, blinking, and as the Outcasts began taking their seats again, Feral and Prism favored the outcasts with a silent golf-clap, shielded from Imperious’ sight.
“I’m seriously debating just shooting that motherfucker with the Core-Ejector.”
“What the hell was that all about?” Caitlin looked at Jericho.
“Don’t worry about it. For now, no one walks about alone, alright? If you see a New Olympian approach you be ready to beat them stupid.” He looked very pointedly at Caitlin as he spoke. She got the message loud and clear.
Gunnery Sergeant Oscar Bardue stepped into the Crystal Hall just in time to see Jericho’s little tirade. He stopped, and waited, watching to see how the scene would play out. He was a baseline, and if the New Olympians and the Outcasts had decided to throw down in the middle of the Crystal Hall there would have been precious little he, or anyone else could to to rein in the absolute havoc that would have occurred. He knew from experience that the Olympians were unholy powerful on their own, but the heavy-GSD nightmare crew of Outcast Corner boasted some very disturbingly destructive abilities themselves.
The most disturbing thought was the realization that save Jericho, Stygian and Cytherea, every single person in play was either a brick, or a speedster, and on the Outcast side, most of them were ragers of one stripe or another. He caught himself stock-still and silent, not breathing, when Imperious sat down. He knew Jericho well enough to know that the boy wouldn’t escalate on an opponent who wasn’t bothering to fight. When the Outcasts took their seats, he moved again, weaving through the tables, setting his face in an inscrutable mask and saying a silent prayer of thanks that the situation had not exploded.
Caitlin saw him first and clearly mouthed the words “Oh fuck” as he walked to stand behind her. She stared very intently at her food, shoulders tense, head somewhat down in a body language that was pure Erik Mahren in his not this shit again phase. Her corona started crackling and sparking in its multi-hued light, and abruptly the table and tray of food near her was covered in a layer of hoarfrost that started melting and evaporating in the heat of the Crystal hall.
“Jericho, would you care to explain why you are threatening other students on-campus?” Bardue managed to keep his voice level. “Also, the lot of you please explain to me why you were acting like you were planning on starting World War Three in my Crystal Hall.” He very carefully did not look at the Fury Twins, remembering full-well the terror aura the two of them possessed, and the creeping dread that was even now making its way up his spine.
All of the Outcasts were silent, trying to not have a blowout. Razorback in particular was very carefully not looking at Bardue, instead forcing himself to eat more of his meat platter. “Well since you all seem to have so much aggressive energy I’m sure none of you will mind reporting to Sergeant-Major Smythe tonight for Range clean-up.”
He didn’t get a response in the negative, although Diamondback, Phobos and Deimos rather abruptly scooted their chairs at least three feet away from Caitlin. When the empaths shifted away from someone it wasn’t a good sign. He tapped the stock-still girl on the shoulder once and simply said “You’re late.”
“What for?”
“You have a Combat Final to attend, Caitlin.”
There was a crunching sound as the fork she’d been holding turned into a crumpled mass in her right hand. “I thought I was getting a waiver.”
“You thought wrong. Get your shit together and be at Arena ‘99 in the next thirty minutes.”
Caitlin slowly nodded, and the Fury Twins, as well as Diamondback, started shaking, and got up to leave. Bardue let them go. If Caitlin was mad enough that they were reacting to her, then something was going on, or she was finally starting to crack. Neither one was good.
“We’ll get her there, Gunny.” Jericho nodded to the old man slowly.
“See to it Jericho. I’ll be waiting with bated breath.” He turned and left the Crystal Hall, thanking God that under all their confrontational, devil-may-care bullshit, the kids of Outcast Corner seemed to respect authority, even when they were pissed off at it.
Jericho looked at the leaving teacher. “This is such bullshit.”
Caitlin shook her head, grinding out the words slowly. “He saw us doing the act, Jericho. He can only go on the evidence he has on hand.”
“And how would he react to Imperious’ sudden demand to speak to you away from everyone at Melville?”
“Same thing Carson would tell me to do in this particular case.” Caitlin snarled internally as she realized she was actually contemplating deliberately harming a Whateley student. “Defend myself by any and all means necessary.”
“That doesn’t sound like Carson.”
“I have a few issues we’re trying to keep quiet.” Her voice never lost that scary, leveled-off, deceptively neutral tone.
“You’re not going to hurt anyone, are you Cait?”
“God, I fucking hope not.” She looked at Jericho. “God help me, I don’t want to, but if Imperious makes a play, I’ll have to.”
“Do good in this combat final then. Maybe you’ll scare him off.”
Caitlin nodded again. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.” She didn’t believe that would happen for a second.
“So what’s your plan for the Final?”
“I have no earthly idea.” Her eyes were still burning as she got up and started walking to Hawthorne, well aware of the two boys trailing her just close enough to watch, far enough to give her space.
Lillian Dennon was an older woman, with dark hair with streaks of silver running down to the tips on her shoulders. As the school Brick combat instructor, anyone who knew her was already aware of the fact that the fragile-looking woman’s body was the home of one of the most ferocious PK bricks in the United States. Once upon a time she’d been known as Wildhammer, and her past was a bit more checkered than most. Even in her fifties, everyone could see the fiery attitude of a girl who’d made it her personal mission in life to rip off dozens of wealthy companies on the late sixties.
Her tenure in Thunder Mountain Prison Complex had mellowed her out quite a bit.
She stepped up to the podium overseeing the arena and waited for the noise from the last Combat final to die down. “Ladies and Gentlemen,” she began in her quiet Louisiana drawl, “it’s time for the next crash scenario.”
The arena spectators went silent, looking up to the woman, expectantly. No matter who was part of it, the Crash scenarios were invariably some of the most interesting. Mrs. Dennon carried herself with the poise and grace of one of the most potent Exemplars, even if she wasn’t one of them.
“Today, the scenario is Prisoner transport. The spindle has been deactivated and will not be a part of the scenario. The normal rules of engagement do not apply. The prisoner transport is a two-on-one scenario, with the one being the prisoner being escorted to the police line. The objective is to hold the prisoner at the location until the Wheeling Prisoner Transport arrives.”
A darkened portion of the arena lit up and the children could clearly see the heavily-armed ANTS bedecked in police SWAT uniforms guarding a drop point.
“The prisoner’s objective is to escape, by any means necessary. She will not be bound by normal grading standards for collateral damage. The escorting ‘heroes’ will be, however. If in twenty minutes the prisoner is not in the pick-up site, the escorting supers will be presumed to have lost.”
The kids leaned forward as the defenders screen, unused since the spindle scenario was up lit up with the two MID’s of the escorting kids.
Code Name: | LANCER <MMID> |
Ratings:: | TK 5/D, <All other information classified> |
Techniques: | Flight,<All other information Classified> |
Weak vs.: | Unknown |
Backup/Team affiliation: | Team Kimba, United States Army Dependant |
The Military Mutant ID was displayed in powder blue, a different setup than most.
Code Name: | HIPPLOYTA |
Ratings:: | EX-6, Regen-6 |
Techniques: | Muay-Thai, Savaté, Greco-Roman Wrestling, Power Jump |
Weak vs.: | None |
Backup/Team affiliation: | Capes, Sinear |
“Oh Gawd! They stuck Hippy and Hank on a TEAM together?” Chaka was snarking as the lineup came across the screen. “I smell Hartass’ hand here somewhere.”
Hank looked over at Chaka. “Who knows? Hippolyta and I kinda have an understanding. Don’t get in each others’ way unless we wanna roll.”
Tennyo smirked. “Methinks Poe could use a bit less of you two crazies ‘rolling’ around together. I thought the foundation was going to fail last time.”
“Gee, and who was it that runs around with foam rubber swords trying to play whack-an-elf, bonking everyone willy-nilly?”
“I do not ‘bonk,” Fey said archly. “I destroy my nemesis with the full power of the Sidhe.”
“And your destruction holds a mighty rubbery popping noise too.” Toni just couldn’t resist.
“Hush you.” She drew the Nerf weapon from nowhere and thwapped her grinning roomie.
Hank just grinned as he mimed the two girls trying desperately to catch and thump each other with bats by Nerf as though they were swords. The attempt fell flat as Nikki was watching a girl walking towards the arena entrance, one looking mightily upset. The rippling arcs of mystic energy that caromed along her body captivated and horrified the Sidhe girl. She could see the ley lines twisting, bending, knotting and snapping away in horrible ways every time the girl moved.
“By the Gods.” The voice wasn’t entirely Nikki. “I KNOW her!”
Hank shrugged and tapped Nikki on the shoulder as he made his way to the arena entrance. “Yeah, and apparently she’s the person me and Hippy are up against. He pointed up at the screen on the Villain board, and they could clearly see the girl’s MID.”
“So that’s the mysterious Cait Jericho keeps making references to.” Toni studied the girl and her MID now showing on the board. “Talk about some jacked up Ki energy. How is she walking?”
Code Name: | ELDRITCH |
Ratings:: | Exemplar - 4, Mage - <Unknown>, Devisor - <Unknown>, Esper - 2, Martial arts – Advanced Infantry Combat Expert, Martial Arts - Fencing, Sabre specialist, Rifle - Expert, Pistol - Sharpshooter, Submachine gun - Expert, Shotgun - Expert, Belt-Fed Weapons - Expert, Explosive Launch Weapons - Expert, Combat Demolitions Training, Vehicular combat training |
WARNING! Combat experienced.
Source of training, unknown Class 2 Rager Deadly Force Pre-AuthorizedSee also: Dx-211-23-DS-Foxtrot |
|
Techniques: | Charged Magic Aura, Class 3 Firearms License, Weapons of Opportunity, Vehicular Assault, Explosives, Assault Weapons, SMAW, Grenades, Knives, Sniper, Sabre, Parkour Master Traceur |
Weak vs.: | Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Intermittent Explosive Disorder, Magic Aura Uncontrollable |
Backup/Team affiliation: | Outcast Corner |
“Holy crap, talk about a full dance card.” Hank just blinked at the data. “I better get going, they’ll be missing me soon.”
Nikki gave an odd look. “Aunghadhail says this is probably going to be the easiest fight ever. Apparently people like her are supposed to be very docile and obedient.”
Toni looked at her oddly. “With that list of stuff on her? What is she, the world’s crappiest super-soldier?”
“Don’t ask me, ask Aung. All I know is there’s a lot of pissed off radiating off that girl.”
“That might explain the Rager warning.”
Nikki shook her head. “I don’t get that either, and it looks like she’s the one who’s been screwing up the lines all over campus.”
“Hey look, the Outcasts are coming in.”
Contrary to the group’s normal cheery and demented demeanor, most of the GSD team looked as though someone had just kicked their collective puppy. Molly and Chou came in shortly thereafter, looking like they’d just gotten done snogging before they sat down.
Nikki looked at Molly and smiled, “Molly dear, would you be a dear and call Rythax? I think he needs to see this one.”
Molly shrugged and nodded as the black panther seemed to erupt from the air, plopping into a chair awkwardly and looking on with interest. “Ah more tournament, how delightful. May I ask what is so interesting that you wished me to come for?”
Nikki pointed at the Villain board. “Tell me what you see.”
Rythax looked over and took in the exotic-cast face, pale skin, metallic hair and runed eyes on the villain board. “Why is an Artificer participating in the tourney?”
“I don’t understand either but it looks like this is going to be the most one-sided fight ever.”
Chou looked at Nikki oddly and whipped out a twenty-dollar bill. “Care to place a little wager on that easiest fight ever bit there, Nikki?”
Nikki foolishly took the bet with the helpful prompting of the ancient Faerie Queen in her head. After all, Aunghadhail had never been wrong before about things of this nature.
Caitlin glared at Wilson and Bardue while the two of them put the restraint shackles on her arms and ankles. She decided she might forgive them… someday. For now she was settling for the silent treatment.
Hippolyta and Hank looked at each other, looked at Caitlin, looked back at each other again, noting the girl’s expression. “So should we have a plan to keep her from escaping?” Hank wasn’t exactly hopeful for blissful cooperation.
“Yeah, stay out of my way, traitor.”
Caitlin watched Wilson and Bardue who both looked over at Hank and Hippolyta.
“She’s all yours.” Bardue waved at Caitlin. “Your objective is to get her into the circle of cops and keep her there. The spindle is the pickup point. If she’s at the spindle in twenty minutes, you win. If she’s not there, she wins.”
Hank and Hippy looked over at Caitlin from the exit. “Let’s go.”
“You go on ahead. I’ll stay here.” She managed not to inject the anger into her voice.
Hank looked at the two instructors and Wilson just grinned. “She’s your prisoner. Transport her.”
Hippolyta looked at Caitlin, who stood stock-still, unhelpful. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re not going to make us carry you.”
Caitlin looked at Hippolyta with an evil smirk. “I’m not seeing much incentive to help you now do I?” She looked over at Bardue, gave him her best ‘I’m not cooperating’ look, and simply said “clock’s ticking.”
“Much as this reeks of bad idea, I’ll get her left arm, you get her right, ok Hippolyta? That way if she rabbits one of us at least has a grip on her.”
Hippolyta scowled and gripped Caitlin’s right arm. Lancer took her left. The two of them hoisted her up, causing a cobalt-blue flash of energy to rip across the bare skin of her arm and hit Hippy’s hand.
The girl howled, as a layer of ice formed along her skin, and the limb went instantly numb, only to start healing and returning to normal almost instantly.
“Oops. Watch the aura, I have no control over it.” Caitlin simply cocked her head at Hippolyta oddly, otherwise standing stock-still. “You could always leave me here, which would keep me from killing you by accident.”
Hippolyta looked Caitlin in the eye and gripped her arm again, lifting, and putting painful pressure on the arm. “Sorry, girl, I don’t give up that easy.”
The two Poesies carried an unresisting Caitlin towards the center of the arena, carefully juggling their grip when they elicited the odd spark. The crowd above, watching, was silent, then multiple boos came from the assembled crowd. When they dropped Caitlin inside the circle of SWAT cops, Hippolyta looked at her disgustedly. “You aren’t even going to resist? You’re not even going to try to fight back?”
Caitlin cocked her head. “Nope.”
“Now I know how Bunker felt.” Hank scowled, having amped himself up seemingly for nothing as they plopped the odd girl down in the circle to wait for the timer to run down. He’d actually been itching for a challenge, and the easy win did not sit well with him.
Hippolyta was pissed. She looked around at the SWAT ANTs, for once at a loss for what to say. “Why aren’t you even going to fight back? Come on, this is your chance to show what you got!”
“I don’t have anything I need to prove.”
“So why? Why are you just giving up? Are you scared? Is that it?”
“Sure, we’ll go with that.”
“What is wrong with you?” Hippolyta got in Caitlin’s face. “It’s bad enough that you don’t care about your grade here, but we get screwed too if you just stand there and let the timer run out.”
“Gunny’s problem, not mine. I was supposed to have a waiver for this shit.” Caitlin didn’t look away, didn’t raise her voice, but she made it clear that she was refusing to play this game.
Hippolyta just shoved her to the ground out of pure frustration. Caitlin wasn’t set, so when her head hit the concrete with a sound like stone hitting stone, both her eyes and Lancer’s went wide.
“Christ Hippolyta, what did you do?”
“It would appear that our rabbit doesn’t want to run.” Bardue cursed Loophole for tanking the simulator program enough that they had to use the arena live for even the kids with damn near one-shot lethal powers. They’d be lucky if they got the system back up and running in time to cover the upperclassmen.
“Would you in her place?” Ito looked on impassively. “We’re not dealing with a normal student, and her precursor always cursed at you relentlessly whenever you threw him in with the students.”
Wilson nodded. “You know he’s right. I was the only guy she’d ever agree to run full-throttle on in the sims. I asked her why once. Something about not being able to do enough damage to me on her own.”
Bardue scowled. “We might have to do another run for Lancer. This isn’t even fair to him.”
Ito looked at the monitor banks. “It seems Hippolyta has taken offense. Caitlin might be injured.”
“Fuck. Do we need an ambulance?” Bardue came over.
“She is moving, however, I am more concerned with what happens with a girl that has serious explosive issues that cannot be medicated properly.”
Wilson turned and started walking out. “I’m heading to the arena edge. Ito, if Caitlin goes into her episodes, holler at me.”
“Why would we need to do that?”
Wilson turned and looked at Bardue. “Because boss, Erik was able to run me around in circles for fifteen minutes in a simulator while shooting, stabbing and hitting me with fucking CARS on a regular basis. That girl in there is about seven times stronger, a buttload faster, and she doesn’t get tired.”
“Go.”
Caitlin’s head was pounding. She couldn’t hear. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. When she opened her eyes and blinked, looking about all she saw was men in blue uniforms holding guns in her direction, and two nutbars in costumes who kept fading in and out of doubled vision. Both of them were moving towards her, she was surrounded by guns. She didn’t remember where she was. She felt like she’d been too close to an artillery hit.
Artillery… Danger, danger DANGER! Mutants. RUN! RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN!!!
Meaningless words pounded in the back of her head as seemingly ancient reflexes, a legacy of days where panic was the norm and the rule was kill or be killed, took over. She didn’t even notice the chains of the shackles seeming to explode.
She didn’t think twice about spinning over and driving her heel under the big woman’s kneecap, jamming it upward as hard as she could.
She acted purely on reflex as she kipped to her feet, world seeming to go into slow motion as the blonde howled, slamming a fist into the woman’s abdomen, right between her hips, twisting the punch and grinding it in.
She wasn’t cognizant that she was attacking a student when she lurched over the woman’s head, driving her to the ground, jerking her arms around her head and twisting until she felt a crack and the body go limp.
She grabbed the other mutant hard by the throat and threw him into the crowd of blue-armored gunmonkeys, following him in hard to begin smashing bodies with a terrifying, speedy abandon available only to someone with superhuman strength and speed.
Lancer bolted skyward, startled by the lightning-fast change from docile and injured to murderous, fast and strong. Hippolyta had gotten taken down in less time than it took for him to pick a fight with her. If he hadn’t seen her heal broken bones in seconds before, he’d have thought that the girl, who was very busy tearing apart the SWAT guys for their mistake of being too close together and not having clear shots, had killed her. As it stood, Hippolyta was standing back up, groggily; but she was standing as Hank jockeyed for a better angle of attack.
Nikki’s expression, despite the ragged, aggressive cheer from the Outcasts a few seat sets away, was somewhat horrified. “If that’s docile I do not want to see aggressive!”
“Oh of course she’s docile!” Chaka was at her sarcastic best, “she wouldn’t hurt a fly! Now the people on the other hand, they might need to worry.”
“Docile? Where the hell did you get the idea she was docile?” Chou looked incredulously at her friends. “Girl beat up Jay-Arm and duct-taped his head in a toilet last night!”
“But that is an Artificer!” Rythax was worked up, almost like the ‘way things were’ had betrayed him by changing without asking permission. “Artificers do not fight! They never fight.”
“Did you pass along the memo to her?” Toni grinned wickedly. “Oh this is awesome in a disturbing way! How often do you get to see Nikki and Rythax get a bug up it at the same time?”
“Right, and on that note, I think I need to go down and have a chat with this girl when she comes down.” Nikki got up and began walking towards the arena entrance.
“Nikki, that might not be the best idea…” Chou shrugged as the redhead wandered away. The Tao said to not interfere. Something about a date with a roach.
Hank watched in fascination as he sought a way to enter the fray without doing more damage than good… and came up empty. The metallic-haired girl was destroying the SWAT guys, at this point turning their own MP-5’s on them. Men, ANTs, he corrected himself, fell rapidly as the girl turned and stood, checking for threats. The one she saw made her eyes go wide for a second, as none of the blue-uniformed “officers” were still standing.
Hippolyta pulled herself standing and glared at the girl, whose expression didn’t change from the twisted mask of anger she wore at the realization that her opponent had gotten back up. Hank watched as Caitlin raised the weapon fast, slamming home a fresh magazine as he dropped all pretense of subtlety and hit the ground hard in front of Hippolyta, blocking the Exemplar as Caitlin let rip on full-auto, holding the weapon out one-handed like a pistol.
The bullets hit his PK field, and simply stopped, falling to the ground harmlessly, intact, in front of him. Contrary to the movies the bullets didn’t pancake against the psychokinetic energy, rather coming to a standstill about an inch from his chest and falling. Thirty bullets stopped in rapid order, the adrenaline pounding Hank so hard he could almost count the rapid-fire cracks of each bullet going off in the chamber.
Biting back the urge to flinch back with each percussive shot took every ounce of self-control Hank had. PK brick he might have been, but standing in front of someone shooting with intent to kill went against every instinct he had. It just wasn’t a bright maneuver.
The girl stared at him with a blank expression on her face and bolted, dropping the weapon and hauling ass straight into traffic, running straight over the top of a sporty two-seater and dropping right in the open top before grabbing the driver and throwing her bodily from the moving vehicle. Hank lurched forward, flying hard and catching the screaming woman before she could hit pavement.
When he turned, Hippy was up and chasing after the hijacked vehicle on foot.
“Goddammit Hip, we need a plan.” Hank threw himself forward in a powered flight after setting the woman down, arcing around a building corner to chase the two girls.
Caitlin wasn’t home at the moment, her thoughts and emotions gone, subsumed by the explosively violent side of herself that she tried to keep bottled up. Pure panic and pissed-off fury exploded from inside the emotional bottle she kept tightly locked up inside her mind, erupting with a rush that to her was perfectly normal in the intensity. Unfortunately for every single empath and telepath with poor mental shields in the arena, it wasn’t normal, and the level of emotion they were used to dealing with seemed like the eye of the storm compared to what the fighting girl was giving off.
A pedestrian bounced off the hood of the car, and she fought to keep the car on the road as she accelerated toward what seemed to be a giant wall where there should, by all logic, have been more streets and buildings. She was barreling towards a hard, curved, dead-end at over fifty miles an hour.
She pulled the parking brake while hitting the gas and turning the wheel, sending the car into a fishtail reversal that would have made Hollywood stunt-drivers proud. The car came to a stop as she reapplied the brake, and scanned the area. She saw the blonde running full-tilt in her direction, the flyer not too far behind.
Caitlin slammed the car into gear after revving the engine, tires squealing and blackening concrete as she aimed the bumper for the blonde apparition that should have died when she twisted its neck. She wasn’t seeing a human, anymore than she saw a person in a sniper scope’s reticule in Range 4 shooting Crazy Ivan pop-up dummies. All she saw was a target to be destroyed.
“Hippolyta I’ll stop her you take her down!” Hank’s shout was almost lost on the enraged junior as he crashed to the asphalt and threw his shoulder into the oncoming car. Even exemplars didn’t take vehicular impacts well. He could, although he questioned the wisdom as the PK field tried to stop the parts of the car that were hitting him directly without pushing along the rest of the bumper. The results were predictably bad as metal crumpled and shredded with the front of the car folding inward like a pincer around him as the car abruptly, violently, stopped. It actually hurt a little.
Hippie jumped onto the hood of the car and ripped Eldritch out of the seat bodily, seat belt and all as Hank began bending himself to force the metal away from his body. He reflected that the girl really was as big as Hippolyta when she wasn’t hunched over and trying to look small.
He almost lost track of what he was doing as the two girls began a violent whirlwind of strikes, and grappling maneuvers with one another. Hippolyta clearly had the advantage of raw power, but she’d learned her lesson the first time, playing hot potato with Eldritch’s body as the arcs of energy ripped along her skin and clothing.
Hippolyta slammed the girl to the remains of the hood of the car, pinning her by the neck even as the girl ripped an obsidian knife with a lethally sharp edge from somewhere hidden on her person. Hank stopped trying to pry the metal from around himself and caught the girl’s arm, stopping the arc of the blade that looked sharp enough to slash open even an Exemplar with ease.
Hippolyta hauled back to crush the girl, as a hand reached up in her face and hellish ruby light erupted from the hand, arcing to the girl in front of her and causing Hippie to scream, letting go of her opponent while clutching her face. The girl wiggled free and fired another eruption of energy, and emerald-and-yellow lightning bolt straight into Hank’s face. Blessedly there was no pain, save the shrieking in his ears as for once, his PK field saved him from the raw magic, absorbing the energetic release and leaving Hank feeling like someone lit his skin on fire.
An Azure bolt and an odd, lavender-and-cobalt blast later, and he was still alive and breathing, though mildly panicked at the sight. Normally, magic tore him apart. Hank’s shock didn’t register on the girl’s face as she suddenly moved her trapped arm inward, twisted and pulled on the unresisting limb.
It was Hank’s turn to howl in agony as he got to experience his very first shoulder dislocation. He couldn’t fight through the pain very well, and he was only dimly aware of the berserk girl reaching for the coup de grace when Hippolyta slammed into Caitlin, sending her sprawling across the road. She followed up by grabbing a parked car and flipping it hard into a caroming bounce that almost took the sparky little psycho’s head off. Unfortunately the girl darted out of the way and into an alley.
Nikki watched the screen footage with morbid fascination as she wound her way down into the bowels of the arena, looking for any of the range crew. She’d never seen anyone really hurt Hank before, and to call the event shocking was a gross point of understatement. She also couldn’t help but turn that maneuver over in her head until it clicked just how the girl had done it.
It was difficult to think straight through the haze of emotions from the crowd, and particularly from the girl in the arena. As Nikki carefully re-erected her emotional shields she reflected that even Aunghadhail was commenting that she’d never experienced such painfully intense emotion from a human before. And Aung’s one experience with an artificer told her that the girl should have been emotionally dead.
Hank howled again as Hippolyta reset his shoulder back into the socket. The girl began peeling the car away from his body, having to put more effort into it than the PK boy did.
“I still think you’re a scumbag male.”
Hank shook his head slowly, still trying to clear the stars. “That’s nice Hippy, we need to come up with a plan.”
“Much as I despise admitting it, you’re right. The old ‘run down and smash’ standby just isn’t working. This girl’s more flat-out brutal than some of the senior teams.”
Hank nodded. “Now I know why she didn’t want to play. You get a good look at her MID?”
Hippolyta nodded. “Class two rager. I have this funny feeling we need to get her there so she isn’t thinking.”
Hank shook his head as he painfully pushed the remains of the car off of himself. “No, she’s already there Hippolyta. The lights are on but nobody’s home.”
“That’s impossible. She’s not acting like a normal rager.”
Hank shook his head again. “That’s just it. I’d hate to see what she’s capable of cooking up with intent. She’s got heavy combat training. She’s using it on autopilot, the girl’s just fighting by instinct.”
“How do you know that?”
“Call it a hunch.” Hank breathed, breathing shallowly, flushed and warm. “Alright, this is going to hurt a lot, but Hip we’re going to need to do the old hammer and anvil routine. I’ll play blocker, you smash her hard.”
“Are you…” Hippolyta saw Hank’s pale skin, unfocused eyes and his breathing and put a hand to his head. “Lancer, you’re burning up.”
“Huh?”
Hippolyta reached forward and her hand stopped, energy tingling across her fingertips that felt absolutely bizarre. “Let me through, Lancer. I need to check something.” Her fingertips gently pushed on his neck and she could clearly feel his pulse hammering like a mad dog.
“Fuck, we need to stop this. Lancer you’re going through a burnout.”
“I feel fine.”
“Dammit you stupid man, this can kill you!”
Lancer stood to his full height, coming up to about Hippolyta’s chin. “I’ll be fine Hippy. It’s not so bad right now. If it gets worse or you think I’m going to go wrong, I’ll stop and head to the infirmary.”
“This isn’t a good idea.”
Hank nodded. “Yeah, but we still have a prisoner to detain before she wrecks the arena.”
“Fine, we’ll do it your way. But let me do something first.”
Bardue picked up the receiver on the phone. Hippolyta was using a public call box, something the kids were briefed on doing for emergencies in the sims and arenas. “Bardue. What’s the problem?”
“Lancer’s going through what looks like low-grade burnout. He says he feels fine and wants to finish, but we need to have a medical group on standby.”
“On it. If you so much as think he might get worse you pull the plug, got it?”
“I got it. I was planning to anyway.” Hippolyta’s voice was snarky. She despised being told what to do by a man, even if he was an instructor.
Bardue hung up the phone. “Ito. Hit the button for Lifeline, Prism and Jericho. Tell them I need a medical team on standby, high probable burnout, and get Tenant prepping the infirmary. We’re going to have injuries here. Dammit, why did Loophole have to fry the fucking simulators?”
“I do believe someone rather foolishly pushed her into a corner.”
Bardue gave the old Japanese man a dirty look, but did not press the issue. When he looked back he scowled. “Caitlin’s coming back around. She’s going on the attack.”
Fey reached the arena entryway and saw the tall man in forest camouflage. He was putting on an armor vest and helmet. Wilson looked at her and grinned evilly. “Perfect timing Fey, we were going to hunt you down next.”
Nikki looked up at the man, startled. “I was just coming because I needed to speak to this Eldritch girl.”
Wilson snorted. “Yeah well that’s gonna have to go on the back-burner. Welcome to the Crash.”
Nikki blinked as the man opened the blast doors to the arena. “What are you doing?”
Wilson looked back at her, no longer amused. “I’m the insurance policy so Eldritch doesn’t get too out of hand. She’s… there she goes.”
Nikki watched in horror as a figure moving faster, far faster, than even an Olympic athlete was capable bolted past the area, turning and heading back towards Hank and Hippolyta. The Ley Lines twisting and knotting in her wake as she tore back into the area, coruscating with Technicolor energy as the corona seemed to build the longer and faster she moved.
“Careful child, that energy aura is more than capable of doing us serious harm.”
“What’s wrong with her?” Nikki was curious.
“Lots of things, kid. Some that there’s no helping, really. You got any healer skills?”
Nikki nodded.
“Good, stay here then, because if I get the call to go in and stop her it means we’re dealing with injuries.”
“She can’t be that bad.”
“Oh yes she can.” Wilson grimaced. “And the worst thing is, she never needed powers to be an absolute nightmare to pin down.”
Nikki chewed on that for a moment as Aunghadhail turned over the new information in their minds. “Perhaps it would be wiser to watch and wait, child. If this man is concerned, then we’re likely dealing with something I’ve not yet seen.”
“Now there’s a comforting thought.”
Hank took another blast of eldritch energy to the chest, absorbing it as he had before, as the girl popped up above the cityscape clutter, actually running along a wall for a short distance as she snapped off the shot. She vaulted a car with one hand, blazing another bolt at Hippolyta, who wisely ducked the blast as it caromed into another parked car.
The vehicle changed, seeming to tear itself to shreds as it stood up, an apparition of steel, iron, plastic and upholstery. The thing roared, then seemed to freeze in place as the magic that empowered the monstrosity sputtered and died, grounded out by the iron of the engine.
Hippolyta rushed forward to meet the charge, only to have the maniacal, raging girl bypass her as she bolted head-on for Hank. He took to the sky as she tore through the spot he’d just been occupying, letting loose a shrieking bolt of pale blue fire that his PK field absorbed yet again.
Hippolyta had turned and was following hard on her heels, gaining ground when the girl ran forward, straight for a wall. Just as the enraged amazons were going to hit the wall the coruscating berserker jumped and hit the wall feet-first, hard enough to force her into a crouch. She jumped back towards Hippolyta, twisting unnaturally and taking the Exemplar-6 girl in the head with a foot coruscating with energy. Hank felt the concussive impact from above as Hippolyta was blasted through four separate walls to come to a complete stop in an alleyway behind the building she had passed completely through.
He decided he needed to end this, taking to the sky as the girl chased him up a wall, leaping from windowsill to fire-escape to wall to rooftop as she chased him, ignoring obstacles like a crack-fiend spider-monkey.
She vaulted the distance between buildings easily, showing no sign of slowing down as she went. Hank began to form a plan as he saw one of her powerful leaps. She had no leverage in the air. His head was buzzing like the hum of electricity as each blast she snapped at him was absorbed by his PK field. He was beginning to see multicolored stars.
Hank led her across two more rooftops, then started slowing just enough that she could almost catch him. As she made her final leap to cross the gap between rooftops, he stopped, rolled back and grabbed the girl by the leg. She immediately jerked forward, scrambling for purchase in air, and fell right into his foot. Hank kicked her, hard. Then he kicked her struggling body again, and dropped her from thirty feet up.
The girl hit the concrete hard: stunned, injured and almost unmoving. As he watched, incredulous, she stirred, pushed herself up to all fours, and began standing.
“Goddammit why won’t you stay down?” Hank prepared to slam forward and train-wreck her when his chest erupted, spraying bolts, flares, and flames of energy back at the girl and the surrounding area. All of the energy she’d thrown at him came back at her as she weakly tried to dodge the effect. Luckily for her, she was missed by the majority of the seemingly apocalyptic storm that savaged the concrete and asphault. Even through his surprise, Hank tried to aim the blasts of weird at her.
The Artificer had taken too much of a beating, and when the ground nearby her seemed to explode she was mercifully unconscious.
Hank picked up the unmoving form and checked her pulse. Her heartbeat was very slow, but strong. He carried her to where Hippolyta had landed, and found Hip stumbling toward the spot where she’d been kicked from. “Hey Hippy, we got her. Let’s get her to the pick-up.”
The blonde amazon nodded, then followed Hank towards the objective. He gently lowered the unconscious girl - who was mercifully not sparking at the moment - to the ground and waited.
Three minutes later the gong sounded. The winners, Lancer and Hippolyta, were announced over the school P.A. system.
As soon as the gong went off, Wilson and Prism came running up, Jericho lagging behind, as they loaded Caitlin onto a stretcher to take to the small arena infirmary. Jericho stopped to give Hank the once-over, checking his vitals and transmitting them to Ophelia in the main school medical center.
“You okay Lancer?” The blind, black boy was very careful to leave Hippolyta alone.
“After seeing your outfit dude? I wish I was the one unconscious.”
Jericho grinned. He touched an earbud idly. “Yeah doc, I got him. He seems to be doing okay, he’s a bit warm but the temperature is already fading out.”
Jericho “looked” at Hank without actually looking at him. “Doc T says you’re gonna be fine. Looks like a Level Zero burnout. You got lucky. The rest of the day you are to relax, drink lots of water, and at dinnertime you are not to leave the Crystal Hall until you’ve eaten twice your normal food intake. Got it?”
Hank nodded. “So I’m going to be ok?”
Jericho nodded. “Just can the use of powers for a day or three, mano. The more you use them over the next couple days, the more likely you are to cook up to a badder level of ‘oh fuck I’m gonna die.’”
Hank nodded.
Jericho turned. “Now I gotta go back. Whatever you all were doing it has the Fury Twins and Diamondback practically spitting violence. I need to get back to keep them calm right now so we don’t have a Fury event upstairs.”
“Thanks man.”
Jericho nodded then jogged off, surprisingly swiftly for a boy who was still noticeably overweight.
“All right, Ito, hit the resets and put the games on hiatus so we can repair some of the damage. We have to put Fey in the tank with Mule next.” Bardue scowled at the controls. Putting Caitlin in the Arena had not been his most brilliant moment.
Ito was listening to the audio pickups in the ready room. “Bardue, you might appreciate this.”
He clicked on the speakers and Nichole Reilly’s horrified voice rang out for them to hear. “But I can’t do a fight in there! The Ley Lines are so tangled that I’ll hardly be able to do anything!”
Bardue grinned, feeling his old, sadistic self realigning. “On second thought, screw the repairs. Put her in the tank with the cockroach now.”
“You’re a cruel, cruel man, Gunnery Sergeant Oscar Bardue.”
“What? Like you wouldn’t do the same?”
Ito shrugged noncommittally. “Just because one is evil does not mean one needs be flagrant about it.”
“Right, so you would have done exactly the same thing.”
“Yes.”
Bardue chuckled as he put on his drill instructor cover to announce the next Crash Final.
Nikki entered the arena and grimaced to herself. Two things were on her mind that interfered with her potential performance at the moment. One, a new kid with the code name Eldritch had just finished her combat not long before, and she was the one that had been twisting the lines all over the campus recently. She grumbled to herself about that then sighed. “Well, at least I know who’s doing it now.”
The second thing was that Aunghadhail was in a near frenzy after seeing this Eldritch. The girl was something the ancient spirit called an Artificer, a supposedly very powerful fabricator of magical items. One that was supposed to be docile in the extreme. Nikki snorted to herself and muttered again. “If that’s docile I don’t want to see belligerent!”
She looked up at the displays and saw her smiling face next to the MID display. She wasn’t exactly pleased with the information listed.
Code Name: | FEY |
Ratings:: | Wiz (Fae Class) - 7, Esper - 5WARNING! Sidhe-Class Mage.Deadly Force Pre-Authorized |
Techniques: | Glamour, Hovering, Thunderbolt, Fire Blast, TK Strike, Barrier Wave |
Weak vs.: | Cold Iron |
Backup/Team affiliation: | Team Kimba |
In the stands the group from Poe cottage was cheering for Fey, while exhorting her to ‘Kick his ass GOOD!”
Oddly, the part of the section where the outcasts sat was as vocal in support of her as her team and cottage mates. Notably, Razorback and Jericho.
Jericho almost chortled as he watched the scene below. “Oh, Mule, I almost feel sorry for you today. That girl has tricks she hasn’t shown anyone yet, I’m positive.”
Razorback nodded in agreement and signed. Nikki is going to shock a LOT of people here whether she wins or loses. There’s a lot more fight in her than most people realize, even with that ‘deadly force authorized’ on her MID card.
“Deadly Force?” Jericho questioned. “I know I can’t read the things they put up on the boards, but I didn’t think they put that kind of thing in for these finals.”
They don’t, except in extreme cases when the mutant involved is considered a danger due to some mental issues, or is too damned powerful for words. Mine’ll display the Deadly Force Authorized tag because I’m a rager. Razor signed back with as smug an expression as his lizard-like face would allow. She actually showed me her card the other day. And she was pissed about it, too. A word of advice here, make friends with her because you wouldn’t want her as an enemy.
“Don’t I know it.” Jericho shuddered at memories of the nearby forest and what had happened there recently. “I’ve seen her in full combat mode, you know.”
“What are you two talking about?” One of the twins questioned. “Mule is going to wipe up the floor with that pretty little -- fashion model.”
“Care to put some money on that?” Jericho asked with an innocent smile.
Mule’s MID showed, but everyone who could see noted with interest that like the other Grunts’ MID’s, Mule’s was almost completely uninformative.
Code Name: | MULE <MMID> |
Ratings:: | TK 4/D, Wiz <Classified>, Psi <Classified>, Martial Arts<Classified>, Belt-Fed Weapons<Classified>, Rifle<Classified> |
Techniques: | Nonranged Psychokinetic, Modified M-240G Medium Machinegun, Class 3 Firearms License, <All other information Classified> |
Weak vs.: | UNKNOWN |
Backup/Team affiliation: | Grunts, United States Military Mutant Delayed Entry Program <Enlisted> |
A warning horn blared, shaking her out of that reverie and back into the present. Which looked as if was going to be interesting, to say the least. She knew that her opponent, Mule, was a member of the Grunts, a bunch of kids obviously headed for careers in the military. As such, he was likely very familiar with tactics, strategy, and (worse) carried weapons all the time, so those would be present in this contest. Also, the guy could soak up a lot of damage.
And the tangled up, knotted lines in the arena were guaranteed to be messing up her magical abilities big time.
“Well, I’ll just have to figure out what works really fast.” She sighed while moving away from her starting position. One thing she could start doing right away was making it difficult as possible for Mule to find her for a while. Following a little concentration and one false start, she took the lines around her and the surrounding air shimmered as it started bending light waves. The effect didn’t exactly make her invisible, but did make her harder to see unless her opponent knew what to look for.
Casting about to catch emotional traces from Mule wasn’t working. It seemed as if the guy had a nearly impenetrable shield over his emotions. Not a good sign, since that left her completely in the dark as to where he might be and would allow absolutely no warning of a surprise attack.
“Okay, so I do this the hard way.” Nikki shook her head and began moving through the ‘people’ populating the area with all the stealth she was capable of. Which wasn’t all that much in a concrete filled city setting like this one. Finally she decided to risk levitating above some of the nearby buildings to see if she could spot him that way.
“Awk!” That didn’t go too well. The tangled lines of force fouled the magic just enough to make it feel as if some huge hand had grabbed her ankles and hoisted her thirty feet into the air. Which left a cursing, squirming elf girl hanging upside down in midair trying to get herself upright. But she did spot Mule in the distance, moving towards the center of the sim with the deliberate, watchful pace of a soldier working his way through sniper-infested enemy territory.
Unfortunately, Mule spotted her, too. The sudden yank of the fouled levitation had left her light-bending shield behind on the ground. Not one to pass on an opportunity, he raised a weapon and fired in her direction. It was big, it was belt-fed, it was loud, and it sent swarms of bullets into the space she’d just been occupying at a rate that seemed impossible.
Still swearing in more than one language, Nikki dumped the levitation and took her chances on landing in something softer than concrete as the projectiles whined through the place she had recently occupied. At least she managed to guide her literal nosedive into an open trash dumpster. The landing jarred her, but the garbage did soften the emergency landing. She emerged from the thing trailing old fruit and vegetable rinds, fast food containers, and one very confused rat.
“Go back to what you were doing,” Nikki advised the rat as she carefully brushed it off her shoulder and back into the dumpster. “It’s probably safer in there, anyway.”
As she moved away from the alley where the dumpster rested, a sudden blast sent garbage, and one now pissed-off rat into the air to spatter the buildings, pavement, and pedestrians nearby. Nikki winced as the rat stopped to squeak invective at her, then scurried into a nearby sewer. “Well, maybe not so safe, after all. But, living in a sewer or not, that kind of language was uncalled for!”
Peeper was repeating himself over, and over in the WARS announcer’s booth, saying the same thing only with different words. The most frequently used term was “nubile”, and he kept making comments about Fey’s unusually voluptuous figure while Greasy kept the transmitter gear going, ensuring everyone listening in or in the arena was getting his boss’ every word. They were unaware that Carson had left her office and was stalking toward the arena, her face like a thundercloud, and intent on hunting down the two for commentary that might, no, WOULD be considered explicit and inappropriate.
Fortunately, Carson’s rampage would not be the thing to stop the blatantly sexist and sexual commentary, as the small door leading into the booth crashed off its hinges and fell on the floor when Razorback’s bulk smashed into it feet first in a classic leaping pounce. Peeper and Greasy screamed as the black-mottled velociraptor pounced on Greasy, dragging him into a corner and pulling out some duct-tape.
Jericho entered a second later, and fired his shock-rifle into Peeper on its lowest power setting, knocking the boy out of his chair, and taking the wind right out of him. A few seconds later, the Twain boys had Peeper and Greasy huddling in a corner, with Greasy hog-tied and duct-taped.
“All right you two monkeys, you get to sit and shut up. Don’t piss me off or I let Razorback eat you.” Jericho talked loudly as he pulled on the headset and plugged his datajack in so he could abuse the cameras. A little back-editing cut out the gratuitous cleavage shots and close-ups of Fey’s ass that really had no place in the recordings. Especially after Caitlin had filled him in on the Mutant Deathmatch shows in Vegas and how they were broadcast from Arena 99.
Razorback joined him in the other chair, put on his own headset, and shrieked loudly.
“That’s right, mi compadre, WARS is back on the air with full coverage of the matches. Sorry about the odd noises folks, but we had to sack the previous announcers. So let’s get to it! Fey seems to be pulling herself out of a dumpster and is moving yet again. Razor, tell us a little about our combatants would you please?”
Razorback let out a series of animalistic chirps and barks, punctuated by an odd whistling noise.
“Right you are brother, now let’s see if we can’t get a close-up of the actual action...”
Nikki was moving again to make herself into a tougher target, especially while keeping to the cover offered by nearby vehicles, signs, and cul-de-sacs. She caught sight of Mule headed warily for the spindle. Gathering her power, she sent what should have been a wall of hardened air to not only keep him away from the thing, but that should have knocked him over.
What happened was… nothing. Her magic seemed to vanish into his TK field so quickly she almost expected the thing to burp. Surprised, but thinking fast like Haggarty had been teaching her all semester, Nikki gestured to a spot above Mule’s head and shouted. “Damn! This calls for Plan B!!!”
Mule looked up and behind him. Nikki took that opportunity to charge down a street running ninety degrees from where he stood. “I can’t believe he actually fell for that one!”
Skidding to a stop at a rather strange six-way intersection that also offered an almost bewildering array of telephone and power poles, along with streetlights, road signs, and a complex arrangement of stop lights, she thought furiously. Direct magic seemed to be absorbed into his field. But what about indirect stuff? Like non-magical things propelled by magic?
Making judicious, if hasty, use of the lines around her, and stretching one in particular across the street, she carefully almost hid herself behind a nearby van and waited for the expected pursuit.
Mule had felt the power of the blast Fey had sent his way, even though his defenses soaked it up like a dry sponge dropped in water. He’d seen enough of Nikki Reilly to have a healthy respect for her, but following that he was pretty sure that her magic couldn’t touch him. At least not directly. Indirectly, however was another thing, So when she shouted about a Plan B and gestured to a spot above his head, he’d quite naturally looked and started to dive out of the way.
By the time he realized she’d been bluffing, a matter of about a second or two, the girl was gone from sight. Scanning the area carefully, and slowly moving forward, he shook his head and grumbled. “I know she isn’t a speedster, but damn it, she’s quick.”
Halting at an intersection, he looked down all three options then made a quick check to his rear. The second sweep of his eyes showed just a bit of flame-red hair showing from behind a van. “Gotcha!”
As he advanced, Mule decided that distance weapons weren’t going to be all that much help, since they hadn’t worked either time he’d used them. So it was clear that he’d have to close with the elusive elf girl and force her to fight close in.
Peering cautiously around the back of the van, Nikki spotted Mule moving quite quickly towards her and grinned. Stepping out from behind her ‘cover’ she formed a small fireball and sent it arching in his direction. It landed behind the guy, and his shields soaked up the damage that reached him, too.
Mule grinned at her, shook his head and charged forward. Right into the line she had stretched across the street at knee level.
“Dang!” Jericho shook his head. “She missed him!”
No she didn’t. Razorback signed while letting out what passed as a chuckle for him and gestured at the intersection Mule had just entered. Watch.
“Uh-oh, folks, my scaly compatriot is right, seems she’s setting up a little surprise for... OH! That HAD to hurt!”
When Mule went through the invisible line Nikki had strung, his field swallowed that too. With unpleasant results for him. The girl had carefully cut every light pole, power pole, and street sign off at ground level, plus the cables holding the massive array of stoplights up, then held them in place with a very delicate web work of magic. All tied to the line Mule broke as he passed through it.
Stoplights plummeted towards his head, while every pole at the intersection converged on the point he’d reached at that stage of his charge. With predictable results. Mule was buried in a mass of power, light and street-sign poles, while just to add more insult, the massive stoplights bounced right into the mess once they’d hit pavement.
“Take that!” Nikki crowed, then her eyes widened as the mass of wood, metal, and whatever shifted, and Mule emerged without apparent damage. “Uh-oh!”
Mule was slightly stunned, as much by the precision of the trap as anything else, and shook his head to clear it. He caught sight of his opponent pelting down the street away from him and rapidly performing another ninety degree turn to get out of his line of sight.
“This isn’t going to be easy, is it?” He muttered with a grin. “That’s okay, you can’t outrun or dodge me forever.”
Peeper warily watched the pair that had taken over his so-carefully constructed and camouflaged announcer’s booth while Greasy simply sat on the floor and shook. “Do something, Greasy, you useless coward!”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Jericho calmly told Peeper without so much as turning his face away from the surprisingly interesting combat final, as the usual announcer of WARS was aiming a slap at Greasy’s head. Razorback added to that with a toothy grin that promised mayhem along with the boy’s amusement. Peeper let out a sigh, and settled back against the wall.
Almost literally skidding to a stop, Nikki turned to watch the street she had just run down and swore as she spotted Mule moving down it, carefully checking for more booby traps like that one that had caught him last time. With one notable exception, he caught them all. Gathering her strength, and the lines she could reach, she directed the radio broadcast antennae she had gimmicked to fly apart and shower her opponent with shrapnel to go ahead and fall apart.
The fouled lines thwarted her again. Instead of starting to fall, then exploding into a flurry of shrapnel a heavy artillery shell would have been proud of, the thing simply collapsed into itself. But that wasn’t the worst of it. The undirected magic formed itself into something altogether unplanned. Hobgoblins.
“Uh oh,” was her reflexive response to that, as the magic coalesced into a mass of fluorescent yellow daisies that were each three feet in diameter with cute smiley faces in the center.
“Oh great!” She grumped to herself and into the audio pickups so everyone could hear. “Now I’ll be hearing ‘Flower Power’ jokes until I graduate!”
Without the least hesitation, the daisies giggled, gathered themselves into a swarm, and flowed towards Mule shouting in high pitched little voices. “We LOVE you, Mule!”
“I could puke.” Nikki sighed then shrugged with a chuckle. “But I’ll do that later.”
Taking advantage of the distraction Mule was soon to be dealing with, she pelted down a convenient alley into another street, thinking furiously as she did.
Mule, for his part was attacked by a swarm of day-glo daisies chirping about how much they loved him and competing for the chance to touch him. To say the least, he was momentarily overwhelmed by glowing yellow petals and smiley faces making kissie motions at his face. His shields held off the indignity of being orally mauled by a bunch of oversized, giggling, day-glo daisies. But the time that took allowed his opponent to disappear again.
One of the daisies managed to get through his temporarily overwhelmed shields to plant a very wet kiss combined with a lasciviously probing tongue on his mouth before it vanished in a puff of lavender smoke with a satisfied and triumphant sigh.
“I’m really going to hurt you for that one, girl.” Mule muttered as the petals that had enveloped him in a hug that was more exploratory than he liked went up in smoke. “I’ll never live this one down.”
“Hobgoblins to the rescue!” Toni chortled as Team Kimba watched the swarm of daisies cover Mule’s form. “Go, Nikki!”
“One of those daisies managed to maul him a little.” Ayla announced with a chuckle. “And he looks like he’s really mad now.”
“Way to go, Nikki!” Hank shouted. “Keep him off balance!”
“Would you like having a three foot wide, day-glo daisy maul you like that?” Chou questioned.
“Depends on the daisy.” Hank answered with a grin.
The Arena announcer’s voice came over the intercom, proclaiming, “And ladies and gentlemen, the hippies had it right. Flower Power does trump the marvels of the modern military!”
“Damn, my hobgoblins really are on my side.” Nikki grinned to herself and started gathering the ley lines she could find in the air. Working from memory, she replicated the sound of the gong that indicated one participant of the contest keying information into the spire. “But this one is going to be good.”
“Now that I have his attention elsewhere. I hope.” At her direction, another spindle appeared, only this second one was fifty feet away from the original, and entirely a fabrication of her own will.
“It wouldn’t do to confuse the poor boy with two spindles, though.” She carefully worked the lines of air around the real one, weaving another light-bending shield that made the device as nearly invisible as she could manage. A shimmer like heat makes on a distant highway faded as the screen stabilized, and with a satisfied nod, she began working another trick.
Three duplicate Nikki’s, correct in every detail, including her mussed hair, formed next to her, and she grimaced. “I’ve handled bed hair, but dumpster hair? Oh well, no time for that right now.”
“You know what to do. Have fun, girls.” She waved the simulacrums away with a nasty grin. The three duplicates gleefully raced off in three different directions.
One went straight to the false spindle and began furiously keying things into the illusory keyboard. The others charged off in opposite directions intent on mayhem, but with Nikki’s plan firmly implanted in what passed for their minds.
After the pair of ambushers had disappeared into the crowd, Nikki carefully hid herself from sight, leaving no tell-tale sign of where she was this time around. “Now this should be interesting.”
Mule found himself both frustrated by his inability to close with his opponent as of yet, and enjoying the chase. Admittedly, he hadn’t expected Nikki Reilly to be so resourceful, or quick to take advantage of opportunities like she had done so far. But the challenge was more than making up for the frustration factor in it all.
As he was thinking of ways to minimize her mobility and inventiveness the sound of the spindle’s gong galvanized him into faster movement. “Oh, it isn’t going to be that easy, dear girl, traps or not.”
Moving faster or not, he didn’t fail to examine his path towards the goal. Managing to avoid several fairly clever traps that could have been painful had he triggered them, Mule reached the central area with the spire to see Fey working at the board attached to the thing.
“Oh, no you don’t,” he muttered while firing a burst of low velocity rubber bullets at the girl and moving forward. The rubber rounds, though hard, weren’t fatal. Just painful - and distracting. He’d decided that keeping her distracted was the only chance he currently had to catch up on the score with the surprisingly difficult opponent he’d drawn in this combat final.
The rubber bullets had no effect, seeming to pass right through their target. Was it an elaborate shield, or was the girl and spindle a skillful illusion? Rubber rounds spanged off the spindle, or so it seemed, but the ricochets weren’t having any adverse affects on the nearby pedestrians or traffic.
Also, the girl was so intent on what she was doing with the keyboard, that she seemed oblivious to his attack and approach. Once he got within six feet of her, the girl and the spindle both went up in a puff of smoke that threatened to blind him with its density for a moment or two.
Once the smoke started to clear, he heard the rumble of a big diesel engine. Turning towards the source of that sound he was surprised to see a gleefully and maniacally grinning Nikki behind the wheel of a city bus that was speeding in his direction.
Before he could get completely out of the way, the huge vehicle’s front fender caught him.
“Once again, Fey has suckered Mule into a trap!” Jericho almost crowed over the mike as the bus quite literally rolled over the Grunt. “Oh, now that one really had to be painful!”
Razorback added his own enthusiastic whistles, growls, and tweets to the commentary.
“Exactly right, Razor, my friend!” Jericho responded. “Whichever way it goes, this particular matchup has been a real surprise to everyone! Mule is still going, or was, but Fey has given him everything he might want in a contest and more!”
The bus had been another unpleasant surprise, and had nearly overwhelmed his shields as it roared over him. Mule held onto enough strength of will to grab at the undercarriage as it passed, allowing the vehicle to drag him along for a while. It was a rough ride, but his recovering shield held any more damage at bay while he shook off the effects of the initial impact.
Mostly.
Finally letting go, he rolled off the street and took cover behind a mailbox so his still slightly stunned wits could gather themselves without any more disasters for at least a few minutes.
Able to actually think clearly following the much needed respite, he considered the things Fey had done so far. They all seemed dependent on deception and misdirection when they worked at all. Which brought up an interesting point. The girl seemed to be having more than a little trouble with her magic, and was even avoiding certain points in the sim. Why?
The mailbox literally melted in front of him from a very concentrated fireball with an impressively limited range of damage. He felt the heat through his shields, which absorbed the flame and blast. But a vehicle next to him appeared unaffected.
“Hey, Gunslinger!” a musical voice called out, and Mule saw her standing less than a hundred feet away holding up an ammo belt strung with grenades while she was wearing a pleasant grin. “How’d you like your bus trip? Lose your baggage?”
Mule’s hand went automatically to his waist to find his own belt still comfortably there, but his bandolier was gone. Swearing under his breath, he watched the ammo belt in her hands vanish only to be replaced by his missing bandolier.
“Is it real or is it memorex?” She shouted with a lift of her eyebrows. “Lost and found department is open from 8 AM to 8 PM daily except for holidays and weekends. You can find out there! Bye!”
Having said that, she turned and sped away with a whoop of joyful mirth, taking what looked to be his bandolier with her. Along with his rifle launched grenades.
“This is getting annoying.” He grumbled with a sigh. “I’m going to be a LONG time living this final down, but you gotta admit, this girl might just keep all the Grunts busy for at least a while.”
“A fake spindle and a fake Fey!” Jericho announced to the listening world with more than a little admiration in his voice. “And a real bus that took Mule for an unexpected ride!”
Razorback chimed in with a series of chirps, yowls, and reptilian guffaws.
“Right again, my friend.” Jericho responded with a chuckle. “Most people who take the bus ride inside it, not underneath!”
“Uh oh! Now she’s waving what looks like an ammo belt and actually taunting Mule!” Jericho added in near disbelief. “And she’s off and running again!”
Razorback added some grunts and growls.
“True again, Razor. Good point there. Just where did she put the real spindle?”
Nikki chuckled as her simulacrum, with the faked bandolier, first taunted Mule then darted in a completely wrong direction for the guy to really lay hands on her. But she did have the real bandolier, though for the life of her she couldn’t quite figure out what to really do with the thing other than stash it somewhere that would be difficult to find until the sim was finished.
Stuffing the thing, loaded with ammunition and things looking suspiciously like grenades, into a convenient corner mail box and making sure nothing showed even with a careful examination, she waited as her opponent chased after the fake Nikki. Once he had rounded the corner, she moved carefully, but quickly to where the spindle really was.
Only to have the area around her explode into a maelstrom of light and noise.
Mule had discovered that the girl he was chasing wasn’t real by the simple expedient of throwing a brick at her. It didn’t bounce off a shield, or knock her down as it impacted with her back. Instead, it went right through her. That was all it took for a little bell to go ‘ding!’ in his mind. The spindle and Fey that had vanished when he got close, the disappearance of the real spindle, and the too-convenient taunting and uncharacteristically delayed running away the girl had been using so effectively.
Following that, it only took a quick reversal of direction and careful approach to the intersection he’d just left to spot the real (he hoped) girl creeping towards an objective that he still couldn’t see but rightly inferred to be the real spindle.
Taking long enough to gauge her direction of travel, and getting an idea of at least the way to reach the destination she was so intent on, he then took a string of flash-bangs, armed them, and threw them in her direction. Two could play at the ‘keeping off balance’ game. “Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me!”
The flash bangs went off in a satisfying spread around her, and Mule moved forward.
“Oh! Mule strikes back!” Jericho shouted into the mic. “Smart guy, he discovered the taunting Fey was a fake and circled back to find the real one, then bracket her with a lot of bright, noisy fireworks!”
The light and noise were more than simply distracting, but worse, the area she was currently in was a tangled mass of hopelessly knotted lines that she couldn’t possibly make use of. Nikki shielded her eyes and just had to let her sensitive ears take the punishment for the few endless seconds the detonations were going.
Seeing bright spots in her vision despite having covered her eyes - even with her preternatural reflexes some of the blasts had happened before she was able to react and close them - Nikki worked her way out of the tangle of lines into a more useable area and set shields between herself and the direction the grenades had come from. Then she crouched down behind the convenient cover of an SUV to let her reeling senses recover at least a bit.
“Make a note.” She muttered. “Extra sensitive eyes, ears and touch can be a bad thing at times. Figure out how to filter sensory input to avoid this kind of thing in the future.”
She knew Aunghadhail would remember to remind her, and maybe even show her a way to do that, so went back to waiting for her now aching head to begin working properly. She managed to use a small healing to get that done, but had lost ground in the contest and knew it. She had to move, and quickly, or she would be overwhelmed right where she crouched.
“No way am I going to lose this match cowering like a mouse who has seen the cat.” She told herself. “It’s time to get moving and working a few more tricks.”
A quick check confirmed, with no little relief on her part, that the scimitar named Malachim’s Feather was still comfortably resting in its nearly invisible sheathe at her shoulder. That blade, a gift from her martial arts sensei Susanna Haggerty, could cut through anything she’d yet run across. Believing that Mule was a regenerator eased her worries about making use of the blade if it became necessary. She’d just have to be careful not to take off his head if it got to close in fighting. And try to use only the flat of the blade if possible.
Mule had judged the direction of her path perfectly. The girl, after shaking off the effects of the flash bangs with distressing speed, felt at her left shoulder, then began to move. Right into the ambush he’d set.
“You aren’t the only one who can do this.” He whispered while waiting for her to enter the ‘kill’ zone.
His gleeful setup of the Claymore mines was hasty, and would be completely visible from the correct angles. Now all he needed was to get her into range where she could SEE them. He smirked evilly as he screwed on the barrel attachment to the machinegun that would make it impossible for her to pick out where he was firing from. He grinned as he remembered the old Combat Range axiom of “If you ain’t cheating, you ain’t trying.”
Nikki cursed wildly as the rubber bullets bounced almost silently off the ground nearby. She could HEAR the gun, but it was so quiet she couldn’t pinpoint where it was coming from. Really the only noise she could make out was the sound of the bolt of the gun slamming back and forth rapidly. She dodged into an alleyway as the tearing-air sound went across in front of her and a window shattered. She couldn’t take the time to draw in the ley lines or she’d be bracketed by the crazy Grunt. Whatever she said about him, he was a damned good shot, and only her amped-up reflexes kept her from more than one or two stinging, painful bruises as the projectiles ripped by her in volumes that would rapidly knock her unconscious. Her only hope was to outlast his ammunition supply, which had to be dwindling even with his carefully controlled bursts.
She broke out into the intersection where she’d trapped him with the power and telephone wires when she finally heard the distinct racking sound of a gun clicking empty. “Gotcha now, grunt-man.” She grinned as she looked up and saw Mule standing on top of a small apartment building. She began drawing in the lines when she noticed him waving and grinning. He held a small piece of metal with a red button on it, in his other hand.
A cold feeling washed over her as she glanced around. Her eyes easily picked out several green boxes marked with the ever-friendly warning “FRONT TOWARDS ENEMY.” Her eyes went wide, and she grabbed the lines around her and pulled the energy into a barrier as they exploded in a wash of sound and flashes of light. She felt each of the tiny ball-bearings ricochet off the hastily constructed shield, and then another round of explosions went off.
She was still alive when all was said and done, and breathed a sigh of relief. She held the shield and looked around to see if any more mines were undetonated. Then the sky fell on her. She barely had time to draw Malachim’s Feather when Mule dropped right on top of her, his protections eating her mystic shield like a child in a box of chocolates.
Mule grinned ferally as she threw the shield up then blew the explosives. He’d waited for her to see the danger, because nonlethal shot or no, the claymores could kick up a lethal spray of debris, and he wasn’t interested in an accidental death for another student. The secondaries went off, and she held her shield, looking around wildly as he silently launched himself up and dropped straight into her shield, and passed through it. She never saw it coming. None of the mages did, even the ones who knew better by now. His TK field completely absorbed and dispersed magic and psychic energies directed at him, and now he was in close. All that remained was the beating.
“Daaaad!” Troy Reilly hollered as he watched the Mutant Deathmatch broadcast on Pay-Per-View. “Nikki’s on the T.V... Again.”
Carson entered the arena, her face a thundercloud, heading for the spot that she knew Peeper had set up the announcer’s booth, with intent to tear the little monkey a new asshole verbally, when she heard the chirps, whistles and shrieks of Razorback, followed by another boy’s cheery voice.
“Oh DAMN! Ladies and gents that had to hurt. Fey may be feisty but I really can’t see having two hundred pounds of TK brick falling on you be happy.”
Carson listened bemused as the two boys’ commentary continued, describing the fight in an actual announcer capacity over the hijacked Arena Intercom.
“Razorback, now that Mule has Fey in close quarters what do you think her chances are for coming out of this on top?”
A series of clicks, whistles and an aggressive shriek fired over the com as Carson looked down at the two combatants and winced. Apparently Fey had figured out a hole in the TK bricks’ defenses.
The boy’s voice echoed through the arena as Mule’s temper gave out. “Oh my GOD! Remind me never to piss him off!”
Nikki swung and swung again, slamming the adamant-edged blade against Mule’s chest with enough force to do some serious harm. He parried her swings with his bare fists and slugged her twice in the jaw. She backed off a bit and snarled, noting with foul humor that he let her, but always stayed right inside her reach. She attacked again, Malachim’s feather skittering along the invisible barrier blocking his skin.
“No fair, I thought you were a regen.”
Mule grinned widely. “Hey, what’s a little misdirection between friends?”
Nikki’s blade parried the punches and kicks he threw her way, barely. He wasn’t nearly as strong as Hank, but he had skill in abundance, and he was keeping her too busy to cast any magicks. TK field, had to be. She went defensive and her mind tracked back to the previous fight. Hank had gotten in close and grabbed that girl, only to have his arm... That’s right, the joints are the weak point on a TK.
“You fading out? Come on, girl, I heard you sucked in Hand-to-Hand but this is ridunkulous.” Mule grinned as he landed two more strikes, and took two slashes across the face.
“I suck? I’ll show you SUCK!!!” Nikki flipped Malachim’s feather straight up, whipping end-over-end and his eyes followed.
By the time Mule realized what she’d done, she was wrapped around his leg and angling her foot upward. He realized she was lined up for a very sensitive spot and winced even though he knew it wouldn’t penetrate his TK field.
The foot slammed upward and there was a sickening pop as she twisted his leg hard to the side with all her might, and his hip dislocated. TK fields could take a ferocious impact but they didn’t impede his body’s own movement. Even if it moved the wrong way. The separate pulls of his body dislocated his leg at the hip. He felt his leg rip in agony and a red haze went over his vision as Mule quit holding back.
Nikki found herself buried under the sudden onslaught of Brick as Mule began pummeling her in earnest. Even with his bad leg, he had a grapple, which gave him the advantage. He caught her in a colossal bear-hug, and began applying steady pressure to the point where Nikki thought her ribs were going to shatter, and she pulled one last, desperate ploy.
The scream that tore through was magically charged, and fuelled with desperation. Every window exploded, and two ramshackle buildings vibrated and collapsed nearby as Nikki loosed the full nightmare power of a Banshee’s wail. The field protecting the audience flared, sparked, and failed with a hiss as the students were exposed to the raw power. Several dozen students passed out, even though by the time it got to them its power was mostly spent, sparing them from the worst. A sudden ululating howl crackled over the speakers that everyone recognized, followed by a high-pitched sonic whine from the announcer’s booth.
For a moment everything was silent. Mule, bleeding from both nose and ears, couldn’t hear anything and felt weak and pained. Some of that raw power had bled through his shielding and hurt him as he slowly looked at his opponent. Fey had passed out, turning slightly blue from lack of oxygen, and when he let her go, began breathing normally. He tried to stand, and found that his leg wouldn’t support his own weight. He picked up a stop sign that had the misfortune of being nearby and used it as a crutch then looked down and lifted Fey gently and threw her over her shoulder. If she woke up while he was working the spindle he was screwed.
The crowd, the ones still conscious, cheered audibly as Mule dragged himself and his opponent to the spindle and began the sequence to have himself declared the victor.
Carson had to have help standing, as she’d had to shield the arena from the overpowering magics Fey had unleashed. She noted that it was an Underdog that kept her steady as she threaded her way to see the combatants. The Announcers could wait.
“So you won.” Nikki gave Mule a direct and approving look once she had shaken her head and regained her composure.
“It was close.” He admitted then grimaced as the injured hip gave way again.
“Sorry about that one.” The elf girl - Sidhe, Mule corrected himself - winced. “Here, I might be able to do something about that right now.”
Before Mule could demur or anything else, the girl smacked his hip with a strike that would have make Ito Sensei proud and the hip snapped back into place. “Ahhhh! Hey, that’s better, thanks.”
“It’ll be sore for a while, but you can walk normally now.” Nikki answered then grinned as mischief flared in her violet eyes. “You can lose the stop sign now unless you plan on using it to warn off idiots who try to fight you one on one.”
“You did good – uhh, Nikki? – or Fey.” He answered with a grin of his own. “I never expected you to be so…”
“Inventive?” She helped.
“Damn tough to fight one on one.” Mule finished with a look that held respect at the frail looking girl. “You almost took me and I have combat experience, at least in the sims and in live exercises.”
“Me, too.” She answered with a shrug. “Though mine is thousands of years stale by now, it was in real, and bloody, combat situations.”
“So you really do have an ancient Queen of the Fairies riding you?”
“She rides me, warrior.” Nikki’s voice took on a different tone and inflections, giving it an even more exotic accent than normal and her eyes had quite suddenly become both very ancient and very amused. “The girl is the power, I am the experience. Blending the two isn’t all that simple a matter and you have helped greatly in that. My gratitude.”
“What was that?” Mule questioned as the girl’s violet eyes returned to being those of a teenager.
“Aunghadhail.” Nikki’s expression was a cross between a smirk and grimace. “She’s an ancient and once very powerful Queen of the Sidhe. “Don’t let her bother you, she does things like that to people at times, but she likes you, for what that’s worth.”
“I suppose I should be glad about that.” Mule answered.
Looking around at the devastation, the supposedly-unbreakable glass in shards all over the arena, and some still stunned members of the crowd, Nikki nodded. “I think you should be. Did I do that?”
“Yes.” Mule slid down to sit beside her against the spindle. “I think my ears are still bleeding.”
“Ouch.” The girl winced then her eyes widened as she saw something else. “Uh-oh.”
Carson didn’t give Mule the time to ask what the problem was as she imperiously stalked up to the pair. “I do HOPE you two have an explanation for all this?”
“Which part, Ma’am?” Nikki questioned a little weakly.
Carson held out one clenched fist, opened it and turned her hand upside down. Bits of what appeared to be some kind of electronic emitter tinkled to the floor as she favored Nikki with a scathing look. “Which part do you think? That sound blast you let loose destroyed, totally destroyed over a million dollars worth of a supposedly indestructible forcefield specifically designed to protect observers from anything a mutant might come up with. Not to mention that half the audience is still stunned by what you did. Explain THAT, please. And I don’t mean tomorrow, I mean right NOW, young lady!”
“I don’t know?” Nikki responded at first then took on the expression of someone deeply in conversation. With someone no one else could see.
“First comes the ‘Defend me’ thing, then the Banshee Wail – or in more modern terms, a last ditch defensive gambit all young Sidhe of Royal blood had implanted at birth. The wail stuns everyone in the vicinity who aren’t expecting it, and destroys combat, or magically inclined items in the process. It’s an involuntary reaction to being close to death, and Mule had me in a bear hug that was literally crushing my ribs into my lungs and other vital organs. At least that’s what Aunghadhail says.”
“Is that your excuse for holding something like this back from the people here who really need to KNOW these things?” Carson quietly questioned, but her expression was one those familiar with Lady Astarte equated with ‘trouble on the way’.
“I didn’t know it was there!” Nikki shot back then blushed as she realized she’d just yelled at the Headmistress of a school that taught some of the most dangerous people on Earth how to handle themselves and their powers. “It’s true, it just, kind of – came out!”
“Just came out.” Carson repeated while closing her eyes briefly to work on quelling the headache that was threatening to start as she contemplated all the possible permutations of that phrase where this girl in particular was concerned. “Another automatic defense reaction that you’re going to need to control, just what we need.”
“I didn’t mean for it to happen, you know.” Nikki winced as some bruise or muscle strain let itself be known as she shifted position. She winced again at the thunderclouds still swarming to get out from behind the Headmistress’ eyes.
“No, of course you didn’t.” Carson let out a long sigh and looked the girl right in the eyes. “Nevertheless, it’s back to powers testing for you after this, and maybe that will help you get more of a handle on some of these things ‘that just come out’ on you at times.”
“More powers testing.” Nikki grimaced, but nodded her understanding.
“Either that or a lot of detention work – in jobs without pay because you’re going to be paying for the damages in the arena for a long, long time,” Carson affirmed.
“Powers testing it is, ma’am.” Nikki let out a sigh of her own but it was clear she wouldn’t argue any longer about the decision. “I’ll make an appointment.”
“I’ll make it for you, dear.” Carson almost gently told her. “That will get it through channels a lot faster. Expect to hear from the labs sometime in the morning. You’ll be excused from whatever classes that interrupts. Just don’t miss that appointment or we go back to option two. Got it?”
“Yes, ma’am. Very clearly,” Nikki affirmed.
“As for you, young man.” Carson turned to Mule. “WHAT were you thinking? Taking a mutant with unknown abilities to the brink of dying? You should know by now that always triggers something in people like that.”
“I wasn’t… thinking,” Mule admitted. “Just reacting, and she was kicking my butt, so the only thing I could think of doing was get in close and hurt her enough to keep her from doing anything else I’d regret. It wasn’t so much about winning by then, just keeping the damage down.”
“Well, that worked well, didn’t it?” Carson took a deliberate look at the now unprotected stands before returning her gaze to the boy.
“Uhh, no?” Mule answered with a wince of his own.
“My point exactly,” Carson answered then gave him a wicked grin. “I’d give you detention for that, but I’m sure Gunny Bardue can come up with something appropriate without my racking my brain to devise something that would fit the current need.”
Mule actually looked a little sick at that thought, and nodded without comment.
“Speaking of Bardue.” Carson went on. “He is waiting for you two, along with Wilson and Ito. If I were I you, I’d limp, crawl, or drag myself up there soon to keep them from getting too impatient with you.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Both teenagers chorused and started getting up to do just that.
Carson watched the unlikely pair leaning on each other as they limped towards the evaluation rooms with a slight grin she had been very careful not to show either of them. Truthfully, the devisors in more advanced classes had been chafing to install a new force field in the arena. Now they’d have the opportunity, thanks to a deceptively fragile-appearing girl and a Grunt that the unobservant wouldn’t credit with more than tactical know how.
Caitlin woke up in the infirmary while the juniors and seniors scrambled around the arena, pulling the emitters on the force field generator, slapping in newer and better parts, while the freshmen and sophomores looked on, discouraged at not being allowed to help. Mega-Death and Knick-Knack were heading up the effort, with several other devisors and gadgeteers checking the schematics as Caitlin walked out into the viewing area of the Arena.
She didn’t bother to stop and talk to Gunny Bardue, who was still in the process of gleefully chewing the asses of both Nikki and Mule for screwing around and playing when they should have been paying attention to the objective. She didn’t bother going to the debrief, instead opting to head out to Schuster Hall.
Carson was in her office, having just returned from the arena to deliver an ass-chewing to a certain pair of student, when she looked up at Caitlin. “Can I help you?”
“Just letting you know I’m going to talk to Delarose to get that UV band now.”
“Your combat final?”
Caitlin scowled. “I don’t remember a fucking thing that happened from the moment Hippolyta pushed me till I woke up in the infirmary. I snuck out while the doc was occupied.”
Carson nodded. “Is it really that bad?”
“I don’t know for sure. All I’ve ever seen was the aftermath. I black out and hear stories of the psycho on a rampage. Are Lancer and Hippolyta all right?”
“They are fine, although Lancer is recovering from a lovely dislocation, and Hippolyta’s shaky from being beaten within an inch of her regenerating brick life multiple times.”
Caitlin sighed. “Well at least they had the common sense to pick two kids who could soak up the punishment, but I can’t keep doing this, Carson. I know I’m technically a student, and I have to play in the sims, but no more live fire events. Not with the kids. I don’t want them at risk because I can’t keep a fucking lid on it.”
Carson nodded slowly. “This is why you always had screaming matches with Bardue and Smythe over teacher versus student runs.”
Caitlin nodded. “Just because I care about the school and want to keep the kids safe doesn’t mean I’m daft enough to believe I can always keep it together. If I gotta do anymore one-offs against the kids, sims only. That way I don’t go flaming nutbar and kill someone. If we can’t do that, thanks, but I’m going to walk. I’ll take the whole protection and shielding thing so long as it doesn’t mean my kids are endangered by it.”
Carson nodded again, slowly. “So you’re willing to simply pick up and leave?”
Caitlin scowled. “You know, the irony of this situation would be absolutely hilarious under other circumstances. You used to be the one worried that I’d have a psychotic episode.”
“You know I don’t like this line of thinking.”
“There anything we can do? I can’t exactly see myself an out here, boss. My meds ain’t working, I’m not any closer to figuring out this whole Artificer pile of shit and I’m scared to hell of what I might do to someone if they spike me too hard.”
“I suppose the question is then, do you want to leave?” The Headmistress looked very intently at the stressed-out young woman trying to run things over in her mind. She wasn’t willing to abandon her people any more than Caitlin was willing to harm the kids.
Catlin seemed to deflate. “No. I don’t have anywhere else, and quite frankly the only three things that ever made me feel alive were fighting, teaching and Cat. Teaching was the only time I ever felt good about what I was doing. Fighting just reminded me that I didn’t want to die. Cat’s the only person that ever made me feel like maybe it was worth keeping eyes forward and seeing the next challenge.”
“Whateley is our home Caitlin. It’s an odd one to be sure, but it is our home. You are among the few who I could honestly say that no matter what you do, there will always be a place for you here. You have earned that much at the very least. We’ll find a way to make this work, come Hell or high water.” Carson carefully took the choked up Artificer’s hand. “There’s always hope, even for someone who’s never felt they’ve walked in the light.”
“Thanks, boss.” Caitlin looked up. “I’m going to go talk to Delarose, then I’ll be wandering.”
“Don’t wander too far. There have been some very ugly things wandering in the woods around Whateley of late.”
“Maybe I’ll get lucky and find a few.” Caitlin shrugged, “burn off some of my rage.”
“I would hope not, Caitlin.”
Nikki Reilly walked along the trail, cursing furiously as she untangled yet another Ley Line knot along her path. She’d spend most of her time since the Combat Final with Mule tracking down and un-screwing the tangles in the mystic lines around campus since the sporadic snarls that would completely disrupt or send awry her magic were becoming something she almost considered personally offensive.
Fortunately something, or someone, had been aiding her efforts around campus, likely as unintentionally as the tangle was created, but it was noticeable, especially around Dickinson where the snarls smoothed out, and the Ley Line energy simply flowed better than it did normally. She wanted to know who was responsible for that as well, so she could convince them to come do their thing around Poe.
As she followed the path to another snarl she recognized the area. Range Four had been the place Bunker and Mule got tangled up with the Voodoo Wolves. She still could not believe the absolute havoc those two kids had unleashed when the monsters in the dark tried to eat them. Even Aunghadhail had been shocked and impressed. Most of the Wild Bunch that had tagged along had been more of a cluster of individuals seeking combat with the enemy. The two Grunts had stuck together and played off each others’ strengths in a way that had absolutely decimated the corrupted weres even after their weapons had run dry of ammunition.
Nikki grasped the knot in her hands, delicately sliding her fingers in the tangle and flicking her hands around. To anyone but an experienced mage she would have appeared to not have been as clumsy as she actually was with the process, reeling from the heady rush of undirected energy released by the contact. Another Ley Line disruption fixed.
The Range Four sign was simple, carved in a wooden plank nailed to a tree, a low-tech marker in quite possibly the most high-tech school in existence. Below it, another sign was crudely placed so as to read:
Range 4
WARNING! Do not feed the Marine!
(He might eat your fingers)
Nikki chuckled at the sign as she untangled yet another knot before taking a moment to rest a bit. She was still sore from the beating Mule had delivered at the very end. She was pretty sure her bruises had bruises. The fact that Mule hadn’t snapped her bones like twigs still amazed her.
When she reached the concrete platform that was the shorn-off top of the small hill the firing line was placed on, she looked at the odd, mixed bag of concrete firing positions side-by-side with dirt and holes dug into the ground at various points. She could see clearly in the darkening light of the evening the mishmash of hulked cars, semi trucks and the occasional armored vehicle with varying levels of damage to them, as well as the control console outside the bunker that would allow the targets downrange to “shoot back.”
She felt the girl on the range long before she saw her, sitting up against a concrete backstop looking downrange. The feelings were painful to deal with: sadness, loss, confusion, and above all, a sense of being very, very tired. Nikki re-erected her shields before moving forward. Anyone feeling that horrible would likely do something to hurt themselves. She stopped for a brief moment when she actually saw who it was.
The girl with the black metal hair simply looked down at all the targets silently. Contrary to what Nikki was feeling from her there were no tears, no choking sobs. Her face was bruised horribly, but the young woman was simply staring as though she was simply trying to relax. Cuts and scrapes along her arms seemed to be stopped closed with some kind of slick red metal, and her left shoulder bore a brand new blood-red Ultraviolent armband, the rager warning. Her right hand held a chromed pistol with what looked like ivory handgrips that she occasionally looked at.
Mystically the girl was like a cyclone ripping at the Ley lines, drawing energy in and shunting it back out again. But what really caught Nikki’s attention were the color of almost every single Ley Line connecting to this girl. Deep, dark blue, like the night sky before everything went black. She got the impression that the Ley lines were much older, more mature than the powder-blue things tracing about the boys on the campus.
“Are you going to shoot something or just look at that pretty pistol there?” Nikki spoke softly as she moved over to sit down next to the odd girl. Caitlin simply looked over at her. Nikki felt an odd spike of fear well up, then get subsumed by that feeling of mental drain.
“Dunno, in any case I’d have to go get ammunition for it either way.” Caitlin’s voice held none of the emotional intensity that Nikki was feeling, for all the world seeming like she was mildly mentally drained.
“Probably just as well given the way I feel right now.” She looked over at the metallic-haired girl. “You really messed up my final you know. The lines were so tangled that I couldn’t get my magic to do much of anything, much less what I planned.”
Caitlin shrugged. She was too mentally tired to work herself up to the paranoia level about mages she’d been fostering of late. “Dunno anything about that, Nikki. Hell I don’t even know what the hell those lines are you’re talking about for sure.”
“Mule kicked my ass.” Nikki got a sour look. “He shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t get anything to really work right after your fight.”
“Don’t sell Mule short. He may only be a sophomore, but he’s smarter and more competent than he ever lets on. Plus you’re his favorite kind of meat in the grinder. He’s been training to bust mages and psychics since he got here.” Caitlin looked back downrange.
“I noticed.” Nikki chuckled. “I sure wouldn’t want to fight him for real without a LOT of preparation in advance, and using any kind of cheating I could get away with.”
Caitlin nodded slowly. “So why you up here, Nikki? The ranges are a bit off the beaten track for you, and if you’re here to talk about a mithril needle and a jar of metallic ink, I’m not interested. Ever.”
“Mithril needle? Metallic ink?” Nikki shuddered. “Honestly when Aunghadhail figured out that you weren’t a mindless drone, she sort of closed down and spent a lot of time screaming and cursing in the back of my brain. Let me tell you when she gets going, the languages she picks are… interesting. She figured out what would happen when the ink hits skin. She’s not happy at the moment.”
“Why would Unga-Bunga care?” Caitlin leaned her head over and a small trace of energy lanced up her neck across her face.
“No way would I take someone’s will from them. Aung is rather insistent on that as well, but I don’t know why.”
Caitlin turned her head to the sky and sighed, her tongue issuing words that hadn’t been heard by ears since before mankind walked fully upright. “Your armor will take time my queen, and will not be complete until the seasons turn eighteen times.” Caitlin didn’t bother looking back. “You might not remember, but I do. I know the name Aunghadhail, even if the memories are only coming back while we talk.”
“Oh gods!” Nikki shuddered as the memories Aunghadhail was trying to hold back surged forward. Images of an ancient forge, more massive and impressive than any ironworks of the modern day, dedicated to one purpose, flashed through her mind along with images of an artificer with black, runic tattoos of a type Aung was only vaguely familiar with. It was the same artificer. Along with the memories came a knowledge that never once had the thing at the forge ever shown an iota of independent thought or emotion from the day it was presented to the Sidhe.
Nikki shook her head. “She didn’t know. She thought the Artificer was a construct, nothing more than a tool. She really didn’t know.”
“No one ever bothered to find out. Even the ones who knew me before I’d changed in the past.” Caitlin shook her head. “Fuck, now I can’t even sort out which memories were mine and which ones belonged to the poor fuckers who came before.”
“Well I know,” Nikki was almost spitting at the thought, “and anyone trying to pull that will need to get through me first.”
“You’re powerful, Nikki, but there’s always ways around shit like that and you know it. My big thing is trying to lay low enough to solve the little puzzle before someone puts me in a situation that for me is kill or die.” Caitlin looked back at the handgun. “I ain’t living through that again. If someone comes for me with intent, I’ll freaking kill them. I don’t care how goddamned powerful they think they are.”
“Good.” The redheaded elf gave Caitlin a tired smile. “If you’d let me I could put a connection to you. Anyone who tried to subjugate you might get a rude shock there. Besides, the thought of owning someone mind, body and soul like that? Ew. Kinda makes me feel icky contemplating it.”
“I’ll pass, thanks. Dunno if I’m ready to form any kind of mystic connection to anyone like that. For all I know this lovely little lightshow would find a way to travel the line and fry you. I’m not exactly in control even in my cognizant state.”
“Then don’t worry about it. Just bear in mind the offer is there. Just trying to help out.”
“Thanks.” Caitlin looked at the pistol in her hand and Nikki felt that sense of sadness and loss connected to the weapon, like it belonged to someone else. “I just hope I can keep it all together, you know?”
“Believe it or not I know exactly what you mean. There are some times when I’m pretty sure I’m going insane myself.”
Caitlin snorted. “Technically, I am insane. I just don’t have the voice of someone with delusions of grandeur stuck in my head.” She looked over. “I’m Caitlin by the way.”
“Good to meet you, although you already know who I am.”
“Yup. Kinda hard to miss you. Hagarty and Westmont still making you bleed from the ears?”
“Oh yeah, but it is paying off. I never would have even been able to stand up to Mule if they hadn’t been teaching me.”
Caitlin smirked, and Nikki felt a sharp twinge of amusement. “There’s the crux. Mule’s a good kid. He needs to quit trying to be everyone’s big brother, but I envy his worldview.”
“I should probably get to know him better, as friends you know? He has helped me and my friends out a bit.”
“Go for it, Nikki. Mule’s a good kid, just do me a favor and keep a leash on Aunghadhail with him and his team. They’re like me. No taking well to orders from someone who hasn’t earned the right, you know?”
“No worries there.” Nikki gave a quirky, ingenious grin. “I haven’t earned that right with anyone, really.”
Caitlin looked over at the redheaded child again, almost as though seeing her again for the first time. “You just might be one of the good ones this school kicks out. Just try not to lose that perspective for as long as you can.”
Nikki gave another quirky smile. “I can’t afford to lose that. I’ve seen enough royal pains in the ass turn up whenever a kid gets an advantage. As long as I can see myself clearly, it’s not happening. I just don’t go barking orders. I don’t have the respect or the experience for that.”
Caitlin nodded. “Give me a sec. I need to put up Cat’s pistol so her Dad can come and collect it.”
“Okay, take your time.” Nikki gives Cait a sad smile. “You lost something precious and I’m not talking about your manhood here, didn’t you?”
“How the hell…”
“It’s the lines I was talking about. You’re covered in blue ones, just not the baby blue ones that most of the kids here have on them. You’re older than you look.”
Caitlin still looked a bit shocked, then a bit frustrated, then sighed. “No, I lost her back on Halloween night.”
Nikki watched as the sparking young woman walked up to the range bunker and keyed the locks like she’d done it thousands of times before. When her conversation partner disappeared inside, her mind wandered to a big, blonde teacher who very much gave off the same feel. Emotions too strong, bottled-up rage, and a loss of a loved one on Halloween night. Mahren never left, he’d been right here, hidden among the children of Whateley Academy to protect him from anyone who might try to use those tattoos to enslave him.
“I’m sorry.” Nikki didn’t really know what to say. “I can feel your grief. That loss, it’s like a stabbing wound. How do you live with that?”
“This is why I don’t like hanging around empaths. I always give ‘em headaches. Fix your shields.” Caitlin said it with the brusque manner of someone who was used to saying that a thousand times over.
As Nikki reconstructed her shields again, stronger, she listened to Caitlin talk. “Takes a Poesie to spot a gender screwball, but yes, if that were my biggest problem I’d be thrilled right now.”
“Hey, I’m here to listen. Whatever you want to talk about. I’d rather get to know you better than play potential owner, if that makes any sense.”
“Thank you for that. Guess it was bound to become obvious sooner or later. I’m just not so hot at playing the normal girl game for very long. Nor am I quite sure how to handle this Artificer bullshit.”
“I can understand that,” Nikki was rather rueful as she spoke, “I swear if I hear that ‘Queen to Come’ bullshit one more time I’m liable to hurt someone, badly.”
“You one of Horton’s Changelings she’s so protective of?” Caitlin simply asked.
“Yes.”
“Figures. Still Carson’s logic in isolating all of you escapes me. Insulating the other kids from the fact that you all actually do exist just smacks of asking for a tragedy. Last time one of the kids got outed, it was pretty bad.”
“Tell that to Ayla.”
“I think our resident Goodkind is familiar enough without me rubbing her face in it.”
“Two years ago, I was this kind of klutzy, clumsy, teenage boy.” Nikki admitted. “Now look at me. The girl of my dreams, only I’m HER.”
“You’ll bounce back though. Probably faster than I will.”
“I already am.” The redhead admitted. “Hormones you know, and I didn’t have adult experience to overcome when the ‘change’ hit me, either.”
“Let’s take a walk. If I stay up here much longer I’m either going to start crying or kill something.”
“Is crying that bad?”
“Only when it’s not healthy.”
“Oh are you in for a treat. PMS will take care of that.”
“Gee, thank you for reminding me of that lovely bundle of fun I am so not looking forward to.”
“Hey look on the bright side. You aren’t likely to cause thunderstorms in the hallways.”
Caitlin snorted as the two of them started walking a large loop around the campus. “With my luck it’ll be heralded by the four horsemen of the Apocalypse.”
Nikki giggled. “Oh my, was that a sense of humor in there? Or was I hallucinating?”
“It likes to hide, and come out when kids are being bad.”
“I’m behaving.”
“I thank all the angels in heaven for that miracle.”
“Hey!”
The two walked around campus twice, before parting ways. They never got around to speaking of anything important, but Caitlin’s mood was improving, slowly. It wasn’t until close to midnight that the sounds of the campus fell off, and she found herself alone again with her thoughts. It was exactly where she didn’t want to be, so Caitlin Bardue turned about the campus, went to her room, doubled and then tripled her warding clothing, then left the dorms.
As she moved, her feet began to pick up the pace, and as she finally broke into a full sprint she veered into the quad and began vaulting low obstacles like benches and tables, then began pacing herself for wall runs. For the first time since Halloween, she hit that odd mental state her friends called flow. By the time security responded, the madcap girl was bounding across benches, shimmying up fire-escapes and climbing the walls using the windows. For once she was completely focused on something that wasn’t part of the odd bad dream that seemed to be her life, and she ran.
Caitlin ran until the sun broke the horizon, then kept running until the students began trickling out of the cottages. As she passed Melville her problems were long forgotten as the Parkour Hooligan in her woke up after a long sleep. She slapped Breaker’s shoulder as he came out for breakfast, shouting “Tag! You’re it, punk!” before bolting through the back trails around Poe. Zenith was her next victim, and the three exemplars tore hell-bent-for-leather through the campus until the first bell sounded, and Combat Finals began again.
December 14, 2006
Caitlin ran hard, bounding over the bench in the quad as she ran full-out for the Crystal Hall. To her eyes the world was a blur, everything not seen with perfect clarity an obstacle as her vision focused entirely on things she could use. The two Exemplars chasing in her wake were running harder than they ever had before, trying to keep up with a lesser exemplar who actually moved like she knew the campus, as though she was born bouncing off of it.
The Crystal Hall was the finish line, but Caitlin had other plans for the geodesic dome once Breaker and Zenith began to catch up on the flat-out sprint. Both were faster than Caitlin until obstacles came into play. The metal-haired girl hit the side of the dome at almost forty miles an hour, abusing reflexes and stamina never meant for a human frame as she bounced straight up the support struts, hardly losing speed as she jumped, climbed, and finally ran along the supports to stop at the top. Mere seconds later, Breaker and Zenith caught her, breathing hard as Caitlin faced the dawn light.
The sun was just over the horizon, and the morning heat felt good to her mind, even if her skin didn’t register the change. She waited for the two Parkour hooligans to catch their breath then grinned wide. She’d been wrong when she told Carson that fighting and teaching were the only two things that made her feel alive. This felt just as good, even if the burning fatigue of a run was absent. The upshot was that she’d been able to run all night long, spooking the Security patrols.
“Where the hell did you learn to run like that?” Zenith gave her an amused eye as Caitlin grinned.
“A little Worm taught me.”
Breaker barked out a laugh. “You met Worm? Holy shit. I watched him and six of his buddies kick Lamplighter’s ass.”
Caitlin smirked, “Heard about that. But I was told you two were the big dog Parkour Hooligans so I decided to come out and say ‘Hi, how ya doing? Catch me if you can.’”
Zenith chuckled. “Nice. God that felt good. Haven’t done that in a while. Not since Halloween anyway.”
“Yeah.” Breaker got a dark look.
Caitlin was in too good a mood to let the conversation go that way. “Hey hey hey, no reminiscing on that shit you two. I admit, I wasn’t here, so I don’t know. Howevah. This is just too good to get lost in crap moodville.”
“You have a point.” Breaker looked over at Zenith. “You think Slappy and Thrash are up by now?”
“You forgot Aquerna, Kuang.” Zenith’s voice was chiding.
“Oh crap, you’re right.” Breaker got a look. “Tell you what, I’ll give my boy a kick in the pants and roust up Thrash. You wake up the Dickinsonian and we met back here in ten, deal?”
“Deal.” Zenith looked at Caitlin. “Pick an empty table. We’re going to introduce you to the Hooligans.”
“Sweet.”
Caitlin picked her way down the Crystal dome, ignoring the weird looks she got from the other students. She wandered in and got her tray, checking the time. It would be a bit before the other Outcasts rose from the dead to join the world. The Intercom system for the school and Genevieve Beaumont’s voice rang out through the Hall.
“Lifeline, please report to Arena ‘99 staging grounds. Lifeline, your presence is requested at the Arena ‘99 staging ground.”
Caitlin looked over and saw the blonde girl jump up, looking annoyed and begin trudging towards the Holbrook Arena, which housed the track field that the Arena cityscape was built in, as well as the underground annexes of Arena ’77 and ’99. Caitlin chuckled to herself as the girl glowered to herself.
“Vox, Please report to Arena ’99 staging grounds. Vox, your presence is requested at the Arena ’99 staging ground.”
Caitlin chuckled as the kid in question did not materialize. She wandered over, grabbed a tray of food and sat down. She didn’t have to wait long before she heard Thrasher’s voice.
“Breakerman, I know you’re all diggin’ the early morning wakeup, but I swear to you unless she’s a hottie, no chickadee is worth waking up for before the crack of noon if you ain’t dating her,” Thrasher grumped mightily. “I’m still debating removing the hottie qualifier from that one too.”
Caitlin looked over and saw Breaker dragging in the two other Melvillains that were part of the Hooligans. Breaker pointed at Caitlin, and the two other boys blinked.
“You’re forgiven.” Trust Slapdash to forget that Bunker had laid a claim to him.
“Ditto.” Thrasher didn’t bother her, looking. She knew the Bad Seed kid well enough to know that for all his talk, he was a perfect gentleman to the girls he showed any interest in, and more importantly, he understood and respected the power of the word no.
Zenith walked in empty-handed a few moments later, without Aquerna and her usual wide-eyed expression. She sat down and said, “Aquerna had to get up and start in on a task she’s saddled herself with. It’ll probably take her all day, but she needs to do it personally. She’s just worried we’d drop her for not showing one time. As if.”
As everyone got breakfast and settled in, Slapdash looked at Caitlin more carefully. “Why are you wearing three layers of clothing?”
Caitlin snorted. “So I don’t explode when I run.” She surreptitiously pulled off the fingerless glove on her right hand and snapped her fingers, causing an amber spark to flash as she moved. “I have no control over that and it’s triggered by motion.”
“Ew. You in Hawthorne?” Thrasher looked somewhat sympathetic as Caitlin nodded.
“She blames Worm for her training in Parkour,” Zenith smirked.
“Worm and his buddies are scary motherfuckers,” Thrasher nodded sagely. “Very cool to run with, but very scary.”
Caitlin didn’t press that line of commentary. There were too many things that could trip up in that knot of shit to be safe, so she let the topic involving the Dragonslayers die. She only dropped Worm’s name to establish her credentials as a Traceur, one of the Parkour experts.
“So yeah, word got to me that you all did the Parkour runs for a bit, so I scouted Breaker and Zenith, I got the names right?” Caitlin despised lying to the kids, but they needed to snap back into the game as much as she did. When Slapdash nodded she continued, “So like I was saying I scouted Breaker and Zenith here and hit ‘em for an impromptu run. Thankfully the people espousing great relief that you were no longer fast-moving road hazards failed to catch on that I wanted to start in.”
Zenith leaned forward. “How are you at teaching Parkour? Anna thinks she needs a lot of training, and I can’t do it unless I can tap into someone else’s skillset. And let’s face facts. We’re not good role models for her. Breaker is hard to follow. I use my Database knack too much to be a training aid for anyone else. Thrash and Slappy are too goofy to be good instructors.”
Caitlin almost snorted soda through her nose at Zenith as the others mock-glared at her. “I might be able to manage something, yeah. Just don’t try to get me to promise too much just yet. The Magic Department is clawing at my time and sanity.”
Slapdash snorted, “Mages, all willy-nilly weirdness and very little solid reality. At least I can build something that works.”
“Amen, brother.” Breaker and Slapdash pounded fists.
“Don’t let your sweetie-girl hear you talking like that, Slappy. Bunker will feed you your toes hearing stuff like that,” Thrasher grinned at the Grunt.
“Mages and Psychics are not the same thing.”
“So says the guy who is dating a psychic freshman,” Zenith smiled wickedly.
“Quiet you.”
Caitlin grinned, “So introductions? I’m Caitlin, AKA Eldritch.”
Thrasher looked at her. “Oh yeah you’re the chickadee who duct-taped Jay-Arm’s head in a toilet! Nice work!”
Breaker gave Slapdash a look. “Jay-Arm’s head in a toilet? You stuck Nephandus’ head… in a toilet.” His face screwed up with frustration. “And you didn’t take pictures?”
“I kinda had my adoptive father breathing down my neck at the time.”
“Get this, Caitlin here’s foster Dad is ol’ man Bardue,” Thrasher chuckled.
Zenith smirked, “So long as you don’t wig out like you did yesterday no worries.”
Caitlin looked over. “Fuck I forgot my UV band.” She got a sour look.
“You’re an Ultraviolent?” Slapdash gave her a wary look.
“I’m a class-two rager. I don’t remember a damn thing about my combat final yesterday.”
Zenith gave her an odd grin and said to the others, “I wouldn’t worry too much. She hangs out with the Outcast crowd.”
“Just what that pack of yahoos needs, another berserker.” Breaker shrugged and held his hand out. “Welcome to Whateley.”
Caitlin tapped his hand and bowed out of the shake. “Sorry, I don’t shake hands until I am sure random mystic oogie-boogie isn’t going to jump off my arm and electrocute you.”
“Fun.” Zenith looked over at the others. “All right folks, I think our new friend here is a sign from the heavens. It looks like Teach isn’t going to come back, so we have to make a decision. Continue on, welcome a new victim, and get on with the runs; or we can say good night, it’s been fun, but it ain’t the same without Teach screaming imprecations of damnation.”
“Slappy would have been the one screaming.”
“Back off Thrasher, I’ve been taking my meds!”
“You wanna go?”
“Bring it you Bad Seed sissy.”
The two boys bolted from the Crystal Hall, leaving their trays and several stunned students behind as the pair hared off for their own impromptu footrace.
“I’d say that’s two votes to keep the movement going.” Breaker watched, bemused.
“Teach did always say that which does not kill us only makes us wish for painkillers. I’m in,” Zenith nodded at Breaker. “And I know Aquerna’s going to want in.”
Breaker smirked, “Welcome to the Hooligans. Your straitjacket will be issued shortly. Our code is simple: move fast, move hard, and never ever look back. We’re the ones who show people what we’re capable of, and we have a solemn duty laid down upon us by our mighty teacher to fulfill.”
“I’ll bite, what’s the duty?” Caitlin had to stop herself from grinning maniacally.
“To drive everyone loitering around the campus completely insane trying to stop us from buzzing them at every opportunity.” Zenith said it with a completely straight face.
“We’re not doing it right if the rest of the kids aren’t staring or cussing at us,” intoned Breaker solemnly.
“This is gonna be fun,” Caitlin grinned.
Caitlin got done with the hooligans, got changed, then headed right back to the Crystal hall to catch the Outcasts. Jericho was walking toward the traditional table with his light tray full of nothing but a dejected look. Caitlin walked over, confiscated the tray, and dumped the leafy, sparse contents.
“Hey! That was my food!”
“No, that was a self-imposed torture regimen. Get back in line.” She handed him the tray.
“I’m trying to lose weight.”
“And I’m going to show you how to do so without doing the starve-gorge-guilt routine that goes nowhere.” Caitlin walked the blind boy over to the line of food again, carefully selecting two chicken drumsticks, skinless of course. She then proceeded to direct her devisor buddy to the eggs whereupon he was instructed to get one scoop of scrambled, two bananas, and then led him over to the dessert line.
Jericho was rather confused by the end. “Okay I understand the chicken and stuff, but why are we over by the sweet stuff section?”
“Because, me compadre, I am going to tell you the most evil secret of all.” Caitlin grinned as she stopped at the tray full of green Jell-o cubes. “Ta-da! Jell-o, the secret to not feeling starved at the end of a meal.”
Jericho blinked. “How does that work?”
“Easy, bud. Jello has crap for calories, so it isn’t much more than protein-jellied water with some sugar spooned in nutritionally.” Caitlin took the opportunity to dump a fair pile of the jiggling goo on his tray. “Howevah… Jello fills you up, so even if you’re not getting the calories, your body isn’t in starvation mode. So the calories get burned rather than getting stored for a rainy day.”
“This works?”
“This is how the military fills out the chow hall food so the recruits on the diet plans don’t realize they’re being fed three-digit calorie counts.”
“Yeah, but they’re exercising constantly.”
“And thus does the light shine down upon the blind one and illuminate him.”
Jericho scowled, “I think I liked you better when you were cranky.”
Caitlin grinned, “That’s the spirit. You’ll thank me later, after the urge to kill me passes.”
Diamondback and Razorback were both in line, awaiting their respective allotments of dead thing as patiently as two carnivores are capable, which translated to “not very.”
The heaping trays of meat were somewhat less than normal, but Caitlin did note what had replaced them with interest. Eggs were cheaper than sides of beef, after all. “So I see they decided to put you two on the meat-lite diet.”
Diamondback studied Caitlin’s cheerful expression intently. She turned to Jericho. “Who is this interloper, and why doth she defile my morning by being perky?”
Jericho grumbled and then Razorback dropped his thermos he’d forgotten in the room on the table. Jericho immediately picked it up and moved rapidly to the beverage dispensers, chanting the word “java” over and over again, rapidly.
Razorback signed.
Caitlin signed back. She made it up as she went, which only made Razorback’s quizzical, then confused expression all the more priceless. He made a whining-chirping noise at Diamondback and pointed at the sparky one with a wounded chirp.
“Caitlin, what did we tell you about signing in languages that don’t exist?”
“Makes sense to me.”
“Yes, but you’re also nuttier than an almond bar. Speaka-de-eengleesh please,” Diamondback smirked as she coiled around her seat, settling in to eat.
“Whine whine whine whine whine,” Caitlin chuckled. “Next thing you’re gonna tell me that me being cheerful hurts.”
“It kinda does dear. Even when you’re happy you’re freaking intense about it.”
“Sorry.”
Diamondback looked at her. “Don’t be, I like this a helluva lot better than your usual ‘restraint of rage’ situation.”
“Oh my God, the Rage bus is parked, and someone’s a bit too damn giddy for words.” Deimos sounded amused and snarky at the same time as she and her sister sat at the table. “How the hell do you wake up and be cheerful?”
“I don’t sleep anymore.” Caitlin gave a weak smile.
“No sleep?” Jericho looked aghast as he sat down and took a slug from his coffee thermos. “That’s blasphemy!”
Razorback signed again.
“Razorback says that perkiness is outlawed by the Geneva Convention.” Diamondback nodded sagely in Caitlin’s direction.
“All right all right no more bouncing at breakfast,” Caitlin smirked. She was honestly feeling somewhat good this morning, which was a nice switch.
“Jimmy Trauger, please report to Holbrook Arena for Combat Final. Jimmy Trauger, please report to Holbrook Arena.”
-I feel sorry for the poor schmuck who has to play with him. Jimmy’s a nightmare in the combat sims.- Razorback looked up at the speakers, shaking his head, glad it wasn’t him having to face his buddy.
“Razorback, please report to Holbrook Arena for Combat Final. Razorback, please report to Holbrook arena.”
Everyone at the table went silent, staring at Razorback, who let out a long sigh in resignation and stood.
“Welcome to the Crash.” Caitlin, Jericho and Diamondback got up as well, followed by the Fury Twins who took a moment to decimate their trays.
Jericho shook his head. “I hope the construction crew’s hot stuff because this one’s gonna be bad unless Razor can beat Jimmy to the spindle, fast.”
Caitlin followed quietly as Jericho led the way up towards the Outcasts’ particular spot they’d chosen, for the first time realizing that Hank Declan, one of the Kimbas, and Chou Lee were both at the Kimba spot not more than a few seats away. She really needed to start paying attention to what was going on around her again. Eight months before she’d have been aware of her surroundings in a way that often left accusations of being an Esper at the very least in her wake, when it had all been training.
Chou saw them and she motioned to Hank and the two of them quietly walked over to the Outcasts as Razorback and Jimmy Trauger’s MID cards popped up on the screens.
Code Name: |
RAZORBACK |
Ratings:: | Exemplar - 3, Regen - 4+, Esper - 1, GSD Severe, Martial Arts - Aikido
WARNING! Class 3 Rager. |
Techniques: | Claws, Teeth, Fastball, Suicide Slide, Spinal Tap, Whirlwind, Flurry |
Weak vs.: | Unknown |
Backup/Team: | Outcast Corner, Overwatch Defense Force |
Code Name: | JT |
Ratings:: | Shifter 6, Esper 2, Psi Null WARNING! Omni-shifter Deadly Force Pre-Authorized Heavy Weapons pre-authorized |
Techniques: | Claws, Teeth, size alteration, miscellaneous shifter effects. |
Weak vs.: | Unknown |
Backup/Team affiliation: | None listed. |
“Shifter six? What’s that mean?” Chou looked at the ratings curiously.
Caitlin shrugged. “Shifter Six means Jimmy can pretty much ignore the laws of reality when he goes form-picking. A seven would mean he could shift into inorganic stuff, as well as being able to mimic organics.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad.” Phobos looked on, interested. “Although I’ve heard Jimmy can do some rude things with that.”
“Jimmy Trauger has, in the past, demonstrated the ability to mimic other physically based powers and some blaster effects. There’s no telling what he could do.”
“Blaster effects?” Jericho looked curious.
Caitlin looked over. “He turned into some kind of draconic thing that secreted binary napalm in his mouth to pull a flamethrower effect. We shall say that the Warhammer 40K crowd on campus has been expressly forbidden from handing him a Tyranid manual.”
“Hence the deadly force authorization?” Chou looked thoughtful. “I wouldn’t think that was legal.”
“It’s not,” Caitlin glowered at the screen.
“So why doesn’t anyone fight the marker in court?” Diamondback looked more curious than worried.
“They have been, for years,” Caitlin shrugged. “The cases have all been bogged down in legal proceedings and red tape by the Department of Justice, an effort supported by the UN MCO administration and their butt-buddies over at Goodkind Industries.”
“I’m kinda glad Ayla isn’t around for this conversation. She’d be arguing that some mutants are dangerous enough to need it.”
“Some are dangerous, and psychotic enough to warrant it,” Caitlin nodded towards Razorback below. “I talked to him a bit about it, and he’s not fussed because he knows what happens when he goes off the hook. Plus Razor’s not a US citizen, so the laws are a bit fuzzy.”
“Razorback has never shown any sign of all the horror stories we’ve heard.” Chou spoke too soon as an inhuman shriek erupted from the arena. They’d missed the opening moves, and when they looked down, Razorback was tearing at Jimmy’s face like he wanted it for a lapwarmer.
Jimmy’s response was to melt into a giant blob of translucent bluish goo as the blood and bits of his insides seemed to flow and slither back towards him to be re-absorbed.
Chou went a little pale. “EW!”
Jericho nodded to Chou and spoke quietly. “Everyone thinks I’m insane to room with him, but Razorback’s a good person. Even if you have to make sure you have a means on hand to put him down.”
Jimmy engulfed Razorback. They could clearly see the massive, black-mottled form struggling inside his opponent’s most notorious shape, or shapeless as it were. The blob form was what he’d used to try to eat G-Force the year before.
“There he goes.” Deimos winced along with her sister and Diamondback as their friend lost it. All three of them began to twitch slightly as their empathic talents immediately and clearly picked up on the ball of primal fury below in all-out slaughter mode.
The blob of Jimmy seemed to vibrate and shake as the form inside began thrashing wildly, then churning its insides until the black, spined raptor literally exploded out from inside the boy’s gooey form, ripping and tearing ineffectually at the flowing thing, healing acidic burns all over at a pace that reminded Chou of Sara when she got hurt.
“That has to hurt. A lot,” Hank mused as they watched Razorback resort to ripping handfuls of Jimmy and flinging them about, scattering pieces of the amoeboid monster around the arena until it retreated down a sewer. The beast that was Jack shrieked at the grate and began chasing pedestrians. It was a lot like watching a Jurassic Park scene with the dinosaurs rampaging, except this was rather realistic by comparison.
“Is he doing that deliberately?”
Caitlin shook her head. “No, he’s fighting purely on instinct. Ragers vary but when the threat’s gone they move on to whatever victim is handy. It’s kinda like I don’t remember anything I did to you or Hippolyta yesterday.” She shifted a bit. The pistol she’d confiscated from trout was jamming into her back uncomfortably. She needed a holster, or to put it somewhere until it could be returned to Cat’s family.
Hank’s jaw dropped. “I noticed. At first I thought you were just psycho. It was like fighting someone with a plan.”
Caitlin shook her head. “No, rather like our rager buddy down there, if I go off I fight purely by rote and reflex.”
“Remind me not to fight you sane them, you dislocated my arm.”
“If I was sane at the time I would have just waited for the timer to run out. I don’t like hurting people without a damn good reason.”
Chou looked over at Caitlin curiously. “But you were going to gut Nephandus.”
“He was literally trying to turn me into a mind-slave. Hell yes I was going to gut him!”
Jericho and the Outcasts snapped their eyes over. “Nephandus did WHAT?”
Caitlin waved away his concern. “I took care of it Jericho. He’s not likely to try again for a while.”
Jericho nodded. “I’m still going to have a talk with him about it.”
Chou stopped, and jerked, the Tao thrumming in her mind about something. “Jericho, you know me and what I am about, so trust me when I say you must not interfere with Nephandus. He has a role to play and you squashing him would merely remove the actions he needs to take from play, even if they are distasteful.” That last part was almost a muttered growl.
Jericho looked like he was about to retort, then stopped. “This time, yes. Let me know when it’s clear because then all bets are off.”
“Agreed.”
“Holy shit, Jimmy turned into Godzilla!”
All the eyes snapped over to the combat final in progress as Jimmy had become a miniature version of the new Godzilla monster and was tromping after Razorback. There was an inhuman shriek as a small, mottled black raptor-critter climbed straight up jimmy’s leg and was making a god-honest effort to kill the massive beast.
“Rack-of-shifter anyone?” Impossibly, Jericho was eating popcorn as his buddy tore massive chunks from Jimmy’s hide.
“Ew.” Chou did not find the spectacle so amusing. “So what was that you were doing with all the bouncing around during your final?”
Caitlin shrugged. “Well, I’m assuming you’re not talking about my exceptional powers of bouncing off car hoods so I’ll venture you’re talking about the Parkour running.”
Chou nodded. “It was rather impress…”
Pretty much everyone stopped cold and went white as they saw a twisting and thrashing Jimmy T finally get hold of the comparatively miniature raptor in his mouth, and toss it up. Razorback disappeared down Jimmy’s gullet. The shifter paused, then began tromping towards the spindle, occasionally pausing for some unknown reason. It became apparent that all was not well when the mini-godzilla abruptly shuddered, then fell on top of a couple buildings, crushing them in the process.
The Outcasts were all up, leaning over the edge of the arena as the giant lizard began shrieking in agony, shuddering and thrashing wildly as something was going catastrophically wrong. Chou went pale as the dinosaurian Jimmy teetered, fell over again, and began bellowing in agony as the massive form began shrinking. There was a ripping and tearing noise as Razorback tore his way out of Jimmy’s hide and scrambled up to the still-massive head, tearing the eyes out of the giant monster’s skull with his claws.
Chou was pale and on the verge of barfing as Jimmy lurched away from the seemingly tiny berserker, smashing his head blindly against the nearby buildings to dislodge the little nightmare. Jimmy’s own massive claws raked at his head, seeking the smaller foe, and found him. The raptor-like Outcast got thrown in a blind arc, bouncing off the newly re-installed protective overhead field, and crashing through a rooftop and the intervening four floors with enough force to reduce a normal person to Jell-O.
Jimmy rapidly reduced in size and the watching, quiet throng of students was treated to his rarely-seen natural form, a boy unremarkable save for the rivulets of blood and gore re-attaching itself to him and being re-absorbed as Jimmy consciously forced his wounds to close, and his eyes to grow back through the pain. “Ow.”
An ululating shriek answered his simple statement as Razorback was already up and running, streaking in on all fours. The black-mottled monster was still bleeding from wounds where bits of detritus had impaled him, slowly being forced out of his body as his regenerative powers rejected the foreign matter. As each piece fell away the wound seemed to close like water flowing into a gap.
“Shit.” Jimmy’s body pulsed and seemed to inflate as he grew to nearly twelve feet tall, almost as broad and covered in shiny black armor plates. Massive claws replaced fingers as he swatted his crazed buddy to the ground hard. Blood flew and guts trailed as Razorback flopped on the ground shrieking madly, seemingly mortally wounded. The massive, armored thing that was Jimmy turned and began running towards the spindle, trying to put some distance between himself and his opponent. This fight was going nowhere and getting there fast.
“Oh wow. That’s… Isn’t anyone going to DO anything?” Chou was rather shocked that this was allowed to continue. Caitlin was letting out a low whistle as Razorback screamed again and rolled to his feet, moving forward with a slow, jerky gait that became more fluid as his injuries healed.
The raptor-like Outcast charged and leapt, covering a thirty foot leap in a little over a second, driving Jimmy forward, face crashing to the concrete. Razor began futilely tearing at the armored plates for a moment before Jimmy swatted him through a building, lurching back to his feet and pounding away at the distance, closer to the spindle.
Jericho looked back at the still-pale Bladedancer and shook his head. “Right now it’s too dangerous for anyone risking getting between those two. Razorback won’t stop, and Jimmy’s probably sufficiently freaked out that he’d kill anything that comes in reach. The only two people likely to live through being down there are Jimmy and Razor.”
Chou blinked, somewhat disbelieving as she watched Razorback come shrieking out of the building he’d been whipped through, claws out and shrieking. This time, blood flowed from both combatants as Jimmy’s massive arms tore into Razor’s hide, and the speedster’s reflexes allowed him the time to dig under the plates and along the joints to tear pieces from the vulnerable parts. There was a lot of animal shrieking, roaring and crunching sounds as Jimmy finally lost his cool.
The eruption of violence in the arena was horrific to watch, and the few ANTs in the area died almost immediately as Jimmy’s form erupted with fanged mouths, lashing spines and razor-tipped tentacles dripping venom. Razorback shrieked as the tentacles impaled him, the spines slashed him with little effect, and the mouths started chewing on him. The Speedster in turn began tearing and biting with everything he had at a pace that was almost impossible to follow. The two tore at each other, regrowing skin, muscles, teeth, limbs and eyes as they relentlessly assaulted one another.
Chou felt numb as she watched the nightmare below. There was literally nothing that wasn’t a mutant, or the Tao, that could stand up to either of them when they got going. The few ANTs that came near Razorback were torn open without warning or mercy, and as the two alternately ran, were thrown, or rolled tearing at each other through the rapidly deteriorating cityscape, it was rapidly apparent that both of them were simply deadly to be within a hundred yards of. They didn’t even notice the destruction around them. They were each too focused on their opponent, the one thing neither could seem to destroy.
As the seconds turned to minutes Chou’s horrified fascination turned introspective as she reached for the Tao, and watched the two combatants below. She knew that each was too closely matched to the other for either to overpower his opponent. Jimmy Trauger was a powerhouse, a walking weapon that could potentially be used as a siegebreaker in even a modern war. Razorback was primed to kill things that defied the natural laws of the world. Things like Jimmy. But he had limits. Neither one could, by himself, do enough damage to the other. But Chou got the impression that were anyone else in the arena with either, there would have already been a clear victor. And not all of the possibilities would have worked in the favor of the two rampaging boys.
It was the battle between thought and instinct, order and chaos, strength and speed. The two boys were in balance. Razorback was a hard combatant, all aggression and force, where JT took a softer, but equally devastating angle adapting and reacting to the situations to demolish a hard opponent. In many ways it was like watching two martial artists fight, using Aikido and Jujitsu in a very twisted way.
As she sensed things coming to a head, Jimmy Trauger’s massive form ceased moving. The armored plates merged and flowed into one another, creating a seamless, solid shell, leaving nothing exposed. It also rendered him immobile, and Razorback toppled him easily on his back, and spent a few minutes futilely tearing at the seemingly invulnerable form. Jimmy’s gambit worked.
As Razorback slowly regained his senses, he slumped, drained, tired, starving from exertion, and wondering what happened as he considered the shattered cityscape around him. When he felt the incessant scraping and pounding abate, Jimmy looked out of his shell and melted back to a more human form.
“This is going nowhere.” Jimmy felt weak and was slumping as much as his opponent. “And we have only a minute and a half left before we default. How do you want to play this?”
Razorback chirped slightly and shrugged, then looked back at his friend, contemplating continuing the fight, and realized he was exhausted. He held out a hand, palm up then slapped a fist to the palm three times.
Jimmy nodded. As Chou, Caitlin, Diamondback, and all of the other students in the arena watched incredulously…
Jimmy Trauger and Razorback played Rock/Paper/Scissors to determine the victor. When they finished three runs, Razorback simply turned, and lurched towards the exit, weakly following his stomach towards the Crystal Hall. Jimmy turned, got to the spindle, and claimed his victory, immediately following Razorback to the same place, for the same reason.
Hank Declan shook his head, disbelieving. “Tell me I did not just see them roshambo for victory.”
Chou let out a slight smile, still somewhat pale from watching the gorefest below. “It worked, didn’t it?”
“What’s up with those three?” Hank pointed at the trio of Phobos, Deimos and Diamondback.
Jericho piped finally, “Don’t bug them for a few minutes. Those three are empaths, and they’ve been keying off Razorback since the fight started, and they’re heterodyning because they’re getting progressively more worked up. Do not speak to them, do not touch them, and by god do not startle them.”
Chou looked sharply at Jericho. “Are we in any danger?”
Jericho shook his head slowly. “I don’t think so, but I’ve been watching the Fury Twins rather closely. They’re mimetic ragers, so if they get too big a burst of emotion that they’re not prepped for, we could have a Fury event.” He was palming a pair of flat devises in his hands, twirling the disks over his fingers. “Diamondback being in this close proximity just heterodynes things more, so I need everyone to just stay calm as you please, and the three of them will come down off the rage rush Razorback was putting out. Just be glad he wasn’t raging closer or we’d be in for the fight of our lives.”
Hank looked over. “They aren’t that bad are they?”
Jericho nodded. “When the twins go berserk, they conjoin into a reality shredding nightmare everyone calls Fury. Anything can happen, the chair can turn to cheese, your bones might turn to Jell-O, gravity might invert. Cap that off with the fact that independently either of them can generate an energy field around their claws that can pretty much rip through PK bricks and Density changers, and you have a problem. Regeneration fails in the face of that energy field.”
Hank blinked. “Through PK?” He suddenly remembered the story about Phobos and Ayla’s arm.
“Hate to say it Lancer, but PK bricks are actually one of the easiest power sets to punk.” Jericho looked over thoughtfully. “Well, if you’re dealing with a PK that has the mental acuity of a bag of Whoppers. You don’t have to worry so much.”
Caitlin snorted, “If he wasn’t smarter than most of them I doubt he would have won yesterday.”
“No hard feelings?” Hank extended a hand.
“None whatsoever.” Caitlin politely declined the handshake. “I’m glad you did stop me. Things would have gotten really ugly if someone had paired off Hippolyta with Powerhouse or someone with more glory hog impulse than thought.”
Hank nodded, “You broke Hippy’s neck.”
Caitlin winced, “She okay?”
Chou nodded, “None the worse for wear, save for wounded pride. Hippolyta regenerates at about a six, on top of being an Exemplar.”
“Lucky her.”
Jericho nodded. “Honestly I think the only people who heal faster than Hippy are Tennyo, Sara and Razor when he’s rampaging.”
“How does that work?” Chou asked. “I mean, he’s listed as a regen 4, but he was healing nearly instantly from things that would have slowed Sara down some.”
Hank nodded. “A little deception on the MID.”
Caitlin shook her head, “Class Three rager.”
Hank looked at her funny. “What?”
“Powers Theory class, second year, or mandatory learning for anyone rooming with a berserker.” Jericho flipped the disks over in his hands more as the three girls were visibly starting to breathe normally. “Rager Threes get more powerful the madder they get. So Razor gets a bit faster and stronger when he goes apeshit, but not as much as most. What really spikes is his regeneration, to the point where when he’s so mad all he sees is a red haze and his brain shuts down almost nothing can stop him.”
“You said almost,” Chou looked on curiously.
Caitlin spoke up, “Sonics. They’re his bane. Only reason we share that is because Razorback would rather get taken down than kill someone without intending to.”
“It’s also how you shut down a Fury Event.” Jericho was still paying close attention to the trio of empaths. “Or at least one way. Most other methods would require lengthy hospitalizations.”
“We’re a bit berserker-heavy aren’t we?” Caitlin smirked wryly.
“And a bit brick heavy.” Jericho slowly put the disks back into the pouch he’d extracted them from. “I think me’n Razorback are the only two who can’t deadlift half a ton or more.”
“So what’s a class-two speedster anyway?” Hank was thoughtful and curious.
Caitlin shrugged. “Speedster classes are more for law enforcement and military use. It’s there to tell them how tight a cordon they need to deal with a particular speedster. The faster they are, the higher the class. If you got someone like Mach-5 who can crank out two hundred miles an hour or more, chasing him is more dangerous than trying to get him mid-crime.”
“How fast can you run?” Chou asked.
“About thirty-eight,” Caitlin shrugged. “Exemplars are still limited by the mechanics and physics of a human body, so the actual running speed between exemplars past three doesn’t really scale the way strength and stamina do. Mostly it’s a factor of you can only run so fast and be so strong before it becomes a liability in a footrace. Exemplar sixes and sevens have to train themselves to keep a lower pace because they’re strong enough to moonwalk-bounce every time their feet kiss ground. Not a fun way to travel from what I understand.”
“That’s not something one would expect.” Chou was thoughtful. “Doesn’t his MID list him as a Speedster with Exemplar?”
“It’s all in how they achieve the effect.” Jericho finally stopped watching the girls for signs of dangerous behavior. “Most speedsters are Energizers and they do it one way, Warpers compress space to achieve the speed effect, Razorback does it on pure muscle power. When he hits all four like that he can kiss over a hundred miles an hour for a couple minutes.”
“I’ve done a spider crawl, and it doesn’t add speed.” Caitlin looked curious. “In fact if you’re built to walk on two legs using your arms is more of a pain in the ass.”
“His whole body’s rigged like an animal, only he has dislocating joints in his hips and shoulders. His arms and legs pop out of one socket and into another when he’s on all fours. He’s strong, but he’s built for speed over power. Most of his strength comes from his sheer size and how he’s built.”
“How come his arms and legs don’t keep popping out of joint at random then?”
“The ball sockets are partitioned, so that when he relaxes the right muscles they come apart. When the joint resockets, the muscles that hold them in place are the strongest ones in his body, hands down.” Jericho shook his head. “Mechanically it should not work, but the Exemplar effect does some weird shit on occasion.”
“Sounds painful.” Hank was semi-watching the newest battle royale below.
“Apparently it doesn’t hurt him at all.” Jericho leaned back. “Although it makes him an utter nightmare to put in a joint lock. He just twists around and comes back to eat your face.”
“Fun.” Caitlin looked over. “You three okay?”
Phobos, Deimos and Diamondback all nodded a bit, but the Fury twins still looked agitated. “Razorback on a tear is a bit… intense.” Deimos was the first one to speak.
“Speaking of which, where is he?” Hank looked around for the mottle rager, not seeing him.
“He’s in the Crystal Hall with Jimmy by now, and they’re both in the process of gorging themselves stupid.” Diamondback slithered over and settled into a seat as she spoke, her voice somewhat strained.
“How do you know that?”
“When Jimmy or Razorback cut loose they blow through calories faster than most Energizers or Warpers. They’re both killing cows right now.” Jericho stood up. “Now, since the ladies are a mite over-stimulated, may I suggest we move along and check up on those two to make sure they didn’t seriously hurt themselves ripping on each other?”
Cait nodded, an action mirrored by the others as the lot of them left the Holbrook Arena and all of the emotional mayhem behind for a while.
Delarose’s expression was somewhat murderous as he continued to peruse the contents of the file he’d signed for. The courier delivered the file as requested, he’d signed for it, and he’d begun to read. The information was more than he’d bargained for, and certainly more than he’d ever wanted to know about the ex-range hand Erik Mahren. He could have gone forever quite comfortably for the rest of his life without reading the contents of Dx-211-23-DS-Foxtrot.
Franklin Delarose put on his headset, muttering to himself as he keyed the channel. “Everhart you awake yet?”
“I am now. What is it, Chief?” She sounded groggy as anyone should be in the mornings.
“I need to talk to you ASAP about this file I’m looking at. While educational I fail to see what the bloody purpose of granting me access to this was.”
“I’m on my way.”
Six more minutes of perusing the thick file and giving the evil-eye to Buxton and Trout every time they so much as cracked his door still didn’t tell him how this was relevant to the original stated purpose of helping with information meant to curtail aggressive behavior on the part of Erik Mahren towards the children. Instead it was more akin to reading an official, government horror novel.
Everhart stepped into the office, closing the door rather firmly on Lieutenant Trout without preamble. “Beat it, Trout. Me and the boss need to talk.”
“I see you’re learning how to deal with Third Platoon.”
Sam shrugged. “I don’t like it, Chief, it feels wrong to simply shut down one of the platoon leaders.”
“Has to be done. Third Platoon needs to be kept firmly in check so they don’t step too far outside the line.”
“You want me to be your hatchetman like Mahren?”
Delarose shook his head. “That would hardly be an appropriate use for your skills, or your reputation and record. We’re going to let Caitlin become the bane of Third’s existence. She knows what needs to be done, how to do it, and if something a bit more official needs to happen, I’ll turn Smythe loose on them.”
“Why don’t you ever take a direct hand?”
“Because Sam, I only get involved directly in third’s fuckups when they actually step across that line. Generally speaking, so long as they don’t see me twitch at them, they know they haven’t gone too far. The staff can take care of their departments, and Third knows they get no protection when they cross the teachers and admin. Hence why Mahren was always hell on wheels when he came in here.”
“Why do I get the feeling you’re not going to tell me why they’re afraid to cross you?”
“Because I’m not. That threat is reserved for the idiots who think they can exploit my school.” He looked down at the file. “This thing is probably one of the most foul after-action reports I have ever seen in my life. Regardless of the fact that I was not appraised of the nature of Erik Mahren’s unit before now, and the fact that it explains a good deal that he never talked about…”
Delarose looked Sam in the eye very carefully. “This does not have anything to do with Erik being a danger to the kids, except to give me a good idea what nightmares the man lived with every night.”
Sam shrugged. “It doesn’t have anything to do with that, quite frankly.”
“Then why would Colonel Pearson think that I would find this relevant?”
“Ask yourself Chief, if you needed to give someone a piece of official intel that you couldn’t, how would you go about it?”
Delarose considered. “I’d make sure there was a relevant issue or threat pertaining to it that made the file Need to Know.”
Sam nodded. “Erik was just an excuse, boss. The real danger is in those sheets, not in the men carrying out the mission. But the fact that Erik is sort of a wind-up destruction ball with a bad reputation for being murderous towards mutants in a mutant school?”
Delarose nodded slowly. “I despise this roundabout bullshit. It’s one of the reasons I retired when I did. How likely is this information to be valid currently?”
Sam looked Delarose in the eyes. “How many mutant kids disappear every month without a trace?”
“Too many.”
Sam nodded. “I don’t think the threat is so flagrant as what’s in there anymore. Let’s just say there were a few incidents with the fifth marines and two SEAL teams that rather pointedly got the message into circulation that this kind of thing would not be tolerated.”
Delarose got the message. “So they’re probably being more subtle about it. Dammit, this just confirms the nightmare everyone’s been speculating on.” He handed the file to Sam. “Officer Everhart, destroy that file immediately, no one is to see the contents, to include other security personnel. I will brief Carson on what she needs to know later. I agree with Hijacker’s after-action assessment. This would cause issues on a scale we’re really not set up to deal with in the States.”
Sam nodded and took the file. The paper seemed to dissolve and disintegrate as the nanite swarm surrounding the young-seeming woman began to disassemble the file at the molecular level. After a few seconds, she was done, and nothing remained for someone to find.
Delarose nodded once. “You are dismissed for now, Everhart. I’ll holler at you when I get some more information on whoever has been pilfering my files.”
Jericho was confused as Caitlin left the Crystal Hall after a few minutes of watching Jimmy and Razorback eat. “What’s with Caitlin? I thought she’d stick around.”
Phobos shook her head quietly. “Something got to her, bad.”
Diamondback wasn’t looking at the group as she watched a very smug Imperious stand from his meal. Counterpoint and Stygian went with him. “You fucking cocksucker.”
Deimos was eyeballing Stygian. “Ghosts. Stygian did his ghost schtick on her.”
“I’m gonna kill that sonofabitch,” Jericho was growling as he started after.
Diamondback caught him. “Wait. Let’s follow him, see where he goes.”
-He’s going after Caitlin is where he’s going.- Razorback signed.
“Then he has utterly-” Phobos began.
“-bitten off more than he can chew,” Deimos finished.
“They’re right, Joe.” Diamondback looked at him. “You know and I know Cait isn’t saying everything, she’s holding back, and he’s too stupid to realize this.”
“That’s fine. We go anyway,” Jericho nodded. “If he goes after Cait, and we think he’s going to win, we dogpile his ass.”
The Outcasts nodded, and a strong voice rang out next to them. “If you’re going, we’re going.” Hank and Chou stood with Jimmy Trauger.
Jericho grinned evilly. “Titans, move out.”
Caitlin sat in her room breathing slowly, regaining her calm. She couldn’t show it but watching Razor and Jimmy rip each other apart and then eat desperately afterwards had set off an atrocious case of the shakes. It had reminded her of Killbot the one time she had seen that particular horror. Killbot was one of the Dragonslayer misses. Their coordination and firepower exploitation never could penetrate the monstrosity’s skin, and seeing it eat the three newbies they’d had at the time... Watching Jimmy and Razor frantically ripping food apart had brought it all home.
It had been almost like she could hear the ghosts of the dead screaming in her ear as she watched the two eating. She could almost hear Skid and Pyre begging for mercy, begging for help. She could hear the new kibble, Tanner, who hadn’t even gotten a codename yet screaming imprecations.
She took another deep breath, fighting back the flashbacks she didn’t want to relive. She’d managed to get away from the group without too much distress, but she knew Phobos, Deimos and Diamondback had all felt everything washing off of her.
Caitlin moved from her position, standing with her forehead against the wall, and looked around her. The bed was calling and she almost let out a pained whimper as she contemplated the bliss of sleep that seemed denied her. She wanted nothing more than to slip under the covers and succumb to mental oblivion for a while. She had to settle for having regained most of her composure as she trudged out of the Hawthorne basement.
Sara Waite was coming down the hall, took one look at her expression and drew back slightly before her features softened in a nod of sympathy. The two young women who didn’t know each other – or the fact that each could have been a ready ear for the other – passed in the Hawthorne halls with nary a word and only a nod of understanding.
Caitlin wasn’t even really picking a direction when she stopped cold, her shoes ankle-deep in snow. She looked around, and realized she was too close to the Grunts’ club bunker. She took a breath, and noticed that her breath didn’t fog in front of her as it should in the cold.
“I hate this.” She turned and saw three bodies walking cockily towards her. Her eyes narrowed, and she recognized three of her least favorite children on campus.
It was a stark revelation that hit her mind. This little farce Carson had her playing would fail miserably if they let it go on. She couldn’t let go of the fact that there were three children coming to annoy her. She knew there was more to Imperious than a seventeen-year old body could hide. She also knew that for all his power and the experience he and his brothers tried to hide, when it came to the real world, they were children. She marched forward to meet the ones who would imagine themselves her masters. Caitlin Bardue wasn’t playing. Erik Mahren was sick of the bullshit.
No more playing games.
“Get on your knees Galatea.” Imperious simply spoke as she got close enough, and the raw force of his personality hit her like a jackhammer. Her knees went out from under her as she dropped, head bowed slightly as part of her simply caved, while part of her screamed in the back of her mind.
“You have no idea how hard it was to figure out how to get you alone.” Imperious slowly circled like a hunting hawk, his blonde hair and electric blue eyes seeming to transfix her. The boy reached down and a finger tilted her chin up.
“You thought you were going to fight didn’t you?” His voice penetrated her defenses like a hypnotic wave. “You can’t. The Artificer was created for one purpose, to serve those like me, and anyone who can influence the minds of others will find yours infinitely pliable.”
She wanted to talk, scream, cry as her very body and mind betrayed her, sitting compliant as the New Olympian leader stalked his prize. This wasn’t supposed to happen, she was able to fight back Fey’s glamour and force of presence. Upon realizing that thought it hit her. Nicole Reilly hadn’t been trying to force her to obey.
“Now little Galatea, it’s time to make ready for your new place in life.” Imperious, Stygian and Counterpoint were so intent on their prize that they failed to notice the quiet arrival of three Outcasts, two Fury Twins, Jimmy Trauger, a Kimba and Bladedancer all arraying themselves in a semicircle. When he did, he smiled cruelly. “Tell your friends to go away Galatea. This is our little show.”
“Go on guys, I’ll handle this.” Her voice was hollow, devoid of emotion as she spoke, not particularly loud.
Razorback shrieked violently in response. Jericho tapped something under his clothes, and the same shock rifle she’d evaluated for Flashbang and Tinkertrain appeared in his hands. Diamondback had settled defiantly on her coiled body, shuffling her tarot deck she’d used to decimate Hekate. The Fury twins’ hands blazed an unholy red color, and they were the most visible focal point of rage, unable to fully contain the cold fury of their emotions. Bladedancer, JT and Lancer stood less sure of violence, but wary.
Counterpoint grinned when the Outcasts and their attendant buddies rocked back as Imperious flashed the world with the force of his presence again. Caitlin wanted them to leave, honestly wanted them to go as he spoke again
“This is none of your business.” The New Olympian leader smirked as the three non-Outcasts or Fury Twins took an involuntary step back. “This is between us and Galatea.” He knew he had an angle. Bladedancer was tapping something and finding nothing to aid her in return. JT had fought the Olympians and lost horridly in the past. Lancer was desperately trying to figure things out.
But the Monsters of the Outcasts had spent too long exposed to the overloading presence of Phobos and Deimos to give Imperious’ command much thought. “Counterpoint, give them a reason to back off. Titans my ass.”
Caitlin felt Counterpoint’s hand fall on her shoulder, his sword crossing her throat, lightly touching her neck and making the point. The raging voice went silent as she contemplated the eyes of the kids who’d come to her aid. Jericho was yelling something, she couldn’t tell what. The only thing reverberating in her skull was that Counterpoint was touching her and she would not tolerate that. A thousand things flashed through her mind, and she discarded them as fast as they came to her. Years of skill honed by shocking violence told her what she could and couldn’t do to make him let go. If she made one mistake, she was dead. The only person she’d ever even heard of taking down Counterpoint in a straight fight was Liz Carson when the maniac had gone too far once. He was one of the students she despised, and she made her displeasure known with neither warning, nor mercy.
Imperious stopped mid-threat as he heard a triple pop and a shriek of pain from Counterpoint. He turned and saw the Artificer had impossibly dislocated his arm at the wrist, elbow and shoulder without warning. Ares was unaccustomed to pain, so he wasn’t able to react in time to keep her from spinning him, grabbing his other arm, and kicking his ribs in perfect mimicry of her maneuver on Lancer. Counterpoint’s other shoulder came out of joint before the Artificer slammed the boy into – and through – a nearby tree.
“Stygian, deal with her.” Imperious directed his erstwhile “brother” as he turned to face the Outcasts and friends. What he saw was no longer them ready to fight. They were watching, with a determined, expectant air. Something was hanging over them, something fragile, but he saw it. One wrong move and whatever was keeping them from attacking would shatter.
“I would turn around asshole. You’re about to be in for the fight of your life.” Diamondback spoke as the three empaths of the group went cold. He could feel them mirror the brutal calm that he was unaccustomed to from human children. Even Jericho and Razorback were nearly vibrating with anticipation.
Chou was desperately trying to find the Tao, a frustrating experience for once. Normally grasping the balance point of creation brought a stark clarity. This time it brought uncertainty, as though it didn’t know where to go, the tapestry revolving around the gaping wound represented by the Artificer. Until that wound was healed, there would be no certainty where she was concerned, if there ever could be. Trying to follow the threads opened a maddening, painful plethora of possibility.
Imperious saw Chou’s hesitation and dismissed her as irrelevant, concentrating on the real mutants arrayed against him, glancing back and stopping. Everyone was watching Caitlin facing Stygian. His hand was up and he radiated power, they knew what he was doing, and morbid curiosity won out over all else as impossibly, the Artificer snapped to attention, stepping forward once, then twice. She snapped a perfect salute, then stepped forward again, walking through a parade of specters from her past that only she could see.
Caitlin simply moved past the ghosts, some she recognized, some she didn’t. She knew who they were, people who’d died by her hand or those of her unit. She knew enough about Stygian to know that he could not control what she saw. The maddened chattering voices of men and women from foreign lands were ignored, the languages were not part of her memory. Stygian’s power had very little hold on one who was fully understanding and accepting of her own nature and failings.
She stepped forward once, twice, and saluted the officers of the men she couldn’t have saved. They saluted back and stepped away. She shouldered aside Ravager and Bingo, two of the first mutants to fall at the hands of the unit she’d been part of. Stygian could not know that she’d reconciled each of these deaths a long time ago. She saw them in her dreams, but she would not allow them to rule her life. Coppertop and Blackjack stood aside. Pittman and Psyker nodded and moved away with all of the fresh-faced dead of the Dragonslayers. She’d done everything she could to prepare them to battle the impossible, and they’d still died. The parade continued with each step. Dead friends, dead squadmates, dead enemies. These were no mere shades of what might have been, they were the ones she’d felt the vibration of a gun both trying to kill and trying to save, some poor ones who’d simply been caught in the chaos and crossfire. They were mercifully silent.
The last face nearly broke her. The open wound causing tears to fall as she just stood before the spectral image of the woman she couldn’t protect, burning bright even in death. The apparition placed a hand on her cheek, and leaned in, the ghostly touch not registering. “I’ll be patient and wait for you. Keep going.”
Caitlin couldn’t stop the wracking sob as she took the last step and put herself in front of Stygian, mustering her will. “Go away Stygian. I’m not going to end you, no matter how hard you try.” Her voice was shaky, but she spit it out as she turned from the boy and faced Imperious and let the rage build. “You, on the other hand...”
“You get back on your knees, Galatea.” He slammed her with the force of his presence, and impossibly he watched her stop, make an expression of pure fury, and continue her actions.
“Fuck you, you over-privileged little punkass.” She started stalking forward. “...Time for hand to hand combat, basic course, asskicking edition.” The pure, bloody-minded fury was building again in the back of Caitlin’s mind. Every part of her mind screamed at her to kill. She chose to force her thoughts into a different path. She was not going to kill Imperious, she was going to break him.
Imperious had quite enough of this game, his hand crackling as he fired lightning into the chest of the angry woman coming at him, the witnesses forming a circle around the two. She kept coming, the lightning bolt seemingly ignored by her near-ivory white skin even as it charred her clothing, causing the crackling corona surrounding her to erupt more wildly.
“Lesson one, know your opponent’s weaknesses.” Caitlin stepped the last yard and slammed her fist at Imperious’ chest. He managed to deflect the impact to his shoulder and rocked back. It hurt worse than a shot from Kodiak. Caitlin’s attack wasn’t stronger, but her attack had overtones of actual, serious hand to hand training and intent to cause massive bodily harm.
“Lesson two, don’t skimp out on Ito’s martial arts classes because you think you’re such a badass that you don’t need it. Most real opponents aren’t impressed. Training trumps power, you overconfident jackass.”
“Shut up.” Imperious launched a haymaker at Eldritch’s face as her skin crackled with energy. In his mind, even Kodiak or Hippolyta would have had a hard time stopping the speed and power of such a strike. The woman in front of him slapped his hand aside and snapped an elbow forward, cracking his jaw with the force of a bus impact. Her style wasn’t flashy, it wasn’t particularly inspired, but it was brutally simple in its intent to cause harm.
“Lesson three, blocking. Your form sucks, you have no experience, and you fight like an amateur school bully. You have no capacity to fight without your cronies.” She grabbed his incoming leg and twisted hard, forcing him to spin, lest his leg break in two as she slapped her palm to his back, driving him facefirst into the snow.
Imperious was getting angry. He was up and darting at her only to eat a blast of chaotic energy that ripped across his body, causing short-lived but painful alterations of his form seemingly at random. Animal shapes of limbs intermixed with human deformity for a brief six seconds before his natural shape imposed itself and the pain stopped.
Caitlin looked at him contemptuously. “Big bad New Olympian, stopped by a mere Exemplar four. Here’s a newsflash as to why.” Caitlin darted forward and kicked the Exemplar 5 Imperious’ legs out from under him, driving him to his knees as she grabbed his long white hair and ripped his head back.
“Your body as powerful as it is, is still recovering from puberty. You’re off-balance, your reflexes are off, and you don’t know just how strong you actually are.” She lifted her hand and drove it down once with each following word. “I. DO. NOT. SUFFER. FROM. THIS. PROBLEM!” She threw him to the ground, and backed up. “Do we have any further lessons we wish to learn today?”
Imperious came to his knees, wobbling, pointing at the first thing he saw: Jericho’s form coalesced in his eyes. “Touch me again, he fries.” His fingers began to crackle with electricity.
The Outcasts were ready to surge forward as Caitlin whipped out a chromed .45 automatic with ivory handgrips from its place at her back. The gun was cocked and pointed at Imperious’ head, and his eyes twitched with a look of sudden worry. “Last lesson. If you try to harm one of my friends, I will shoot you where you stand, and I will not stop until your ass goes into a casket. Do you understand me, Jason?”
Imperious debated, then finally let his arm drop. Caitlin stepped forward and kicked him rather ungently, facefirst into the snow. She dropped her knee into the base of his spine and he howled in agony as he felt something cold and round pressed to where his neck joined his skull.
“Understand one thing Imperious. I have... No, you don’t need to know that.” Her voice didn’t carry to the others, save Razorback, who took an involuntary step back as he processed the words coming out of his friend’s mouth. “If you ever come at me to enslave me I won’t be shoving your face in a toilet like I did Nephandus. I will kill you, and your spirit won’t be coming back from what I do to it.” She jerked his head back and painfully arched his spine. “Do you fucking understand me you fucking cockbite? I’ll make you my personal exception to my rule of doing no harm on this campus.” Imperious frantically tried to nod, then found his face slammed back into the ground, hard, felt his nose break. “Class dismissed.”
Caitlin spun, and saw the air itself in front of her warp and twist, peeling away from the form of Circe. The woman looked at her, “Don’t you have a riddle to solve? I would suggest taking your friends with you. They have important insight to the solution. Lancer and Bladedancer can stay to with me to help clean up the mess here.”
Caitlin looked at the woman incredulously and then nodded, stepping with a relieved sigh towards the people who’d come to her defense. As she was walking away she could clearly hear the old witch chewing Imperious out in ancient Greek, and the meaning was as clear as the new-fallen snow to her.
“I told you that you were biting off more than you could chew, you ignorant child. If I hadn’t bespelled the Outcasts, you wouldn’t have achieved a lesson. You, all of you would be dead, ripped apart by the monsters you think they are... you blisteringly stupid boy...”
Caitlin smiled as she walked away, catching herself up with her friends. “Let’s go to the tunnels, I need to talk to you all.”
The Outcasts, Phobos and Deimos left the three New Olympians to the tender mercies of Circe, and to Hank Declan and Chou Lee, who were popping knuckles in anticipation of the cleanup.
An hour later Caitlin sat in the tunnels below Hawthorne, facing the kids she was rapidly beginning to consider friends and peers. Jimmy Trauger was peripheral of course, he was more Razorback’s buddy than anyone else’s, but the Outcasts... the Fury twins...
They were digesting the story she’d just spun, when she’d finally been able to lay out in her own terms just what she was dealing with as the Artificer. Her old life as Erik Mahren was irrelevant to them, and she had avoided the topic carefully, not because she didn’t feel she couldn’t trust the kids arrayed in front of her, but because it was something she didn’t want to have wedged between them, ruining their ability to feel they could talk to her in confidence.
Jericho was sitting against a wall, eyes closed as he considered the implications of what he’d been told. To her eyes, Jericho, as goofy as he could be and ridiculous as he was, was probably the most mature of the bunch. He reminded her of a few of her buddies in the past, but he had a capacity to keep things in perspective that could make him a great leader were he to exploit it. He finally began thumbing the strings of his bass guitar and looked up.
“That’s some heavy shit.” The blind boy took a breath as he collected his thoughts. “I guess that lets you out as a mutant, that’s... far too exacting circumstances and rules to be a genetic quirk.”
“She’s been tampered with... You’ve been tampered with.” Diamondback amended herself as she looked to Caitlin. “I don’t even know where to begin looking here, Caitlin. I don’t even think Circe has anything in her mind that could tell you this secret.” She looked right at Caitlin, almost staring through her.
-She’s keeping things to herself, but...- Razorback was signing away as he carefully chewed on the information, -...if she didn’t trust us she wouldn’t be telling us something like this.-
“Okay,” Sandra leaned forward. “Razorback’s right, you’re not telling us everything about you, but I also think he’s right that you wouldn’t be telling any of us this if you didn’t trust us. Even if Circe said you should.”
“I hate precogs.” Caitlin put her palm to her forehead. “Yeah I do trust you. The stuff I’m not saying is... things I’m not comfortable sharing with anyone. Some of it I don’t even want to think about in my own head. Maybe someday, but...”
Phobos and Deimos nodded in creepy unison. The redheaded one of the pair spoke first. “If it’s what causes you to feel the way you do all the time...”
“...we’re pretty sure we all don’t want to know just yet,” Deimos finished for her sister.
“You two are creepy when you do that, you know,” Caitlin almost chuckled. The two scariest girls in Whateley Academy had the whole eerie twin thing down pat.
“We know,” Deimos intoned.
“We’ve been practicing it for years,” Phobos intoned in return.
Caitlin laughed. “So yeah, what it boils down to is I have to solve this puzzle before someone a bit smarter or luckier than Imperious or Nephandus comes for me. What I am is old, and somewhat of an open secret among the mystic asshole community. As far as a lot of them are concerned, the race is on to see who can corral me.”
“You’re a mystic devisor or gadgeteer who can be locked down and controlled reliably.” Jericho looked irate. “Jimmy, can you do me a favor and put eyes on the area and make sure we ain’t got no damn eavesdroppers?” His Texas twang became more obvious as he got irritated. “And shure ‘nuff we got Circe sticking her cryptic paws into it, confusing the issue.”
“And now you know why I hate precogs.”
Diamondback chuckled, “Try spending time in a class with Gypsy sometime.”
“So what are you gonna do about this?” Jimmy T turned on his way to the door. “I honestly dunno why Circe had me come along with you, I don’t have much to...” The shapeshifter stopped and looked at a point on the wall. He saw the little bug mike skitter along the door and settle on the wall. “Sonofabitch, now I’m really starting to hate precogs.” He reached out and grabbed the bug, then bolted out the door. “C’mere prettyboy! I told you what’d happen if I caught you near my cottage again!” He was already shifting into something dark and scaly as he bolted out of the room and caught a glimpse of his quarry.
“I hate precogs.”
“Caitlin, you sound like a damn broken record.” Diamondback coiled herself up and settled in for a long night, while Razorback pulled his beloved guitar from its case. “In any case, let’s shelve this for a bit and come back to it, let things percolate. We have a bit of time, and I don’t think Imperious is gonna have the guts to come at you again, but you have another problem.”
“Counterpoint.” Jericho looked at Caitlin with concern while Razorback nodded frantically next to him, signing away. “Congratulations Cait, you’re the first person to get the solid drop on him and kick his ass into a corner without using some underhanded shit like an incapacitating gadget. Razorback says that’s happened once in the last two years. He kept going till he kicked the shit out of Gloriana for her trouble. And he beat her bad.”
Caitlin remembered that particular incident, and glowered for a few quiet moments. “Fuck it, I’ll deal with Counterpoint as he comes.” She took a breath. “Unlike Gloriana, I’m not too goddamned proud to ask for help,” she muttered to herself. When she looked up, Razorback had his head cocked quizzically at her. He’d heard every muttered comment, she knew, and he’d probably heard her snarled speech to Imperious as well.
“So what do we do now?” Deimos asked.
“Well for one, we make sure you have someone with you who can keep an eye out at all times,” Jericho pointed at Caitlin as he spoke. “Don’t gimme that look, Sparky. You got lucky that Imperious didn’t nab you tonight, and you know it.”
Caitlin forced the absolute irritation down and growled. He was right, but she couldn’t live under watch and guard. “I’d rather solve this problem and obviate the need for it.”
“Caitlin,” Diamondback slithered over and put a hand on Caitlin’s still shoulder, “I know you don’t like it but you need help. If someone gets you, you’re going to be stuck playing supernatural zombie while some asshole fingerpaints the world with the ashes of your old life, if even half of what you can do is...” She stopped as she saw Caitlin’s abruptly wide-eyed expression turn and look at her. “What?”
Caitlin was staring at Diamondback as five words rattled around in her skull, reverberating off her memories. Ashes of an old life. She simply stared for a moment in the stunned silence, mouth moving like a beached fish until she found her voice.
“Diamondback, I hate precogs, but right now I could fucking kiss you.”
...To be concluded in ‘Ashes and Steel’.
And I’m staring down the barrel of a forty-five
Swimming through the ashes of another life.
No real reason to accept the way things have changed,
Staring down the barrel of a forty-five.
Shinedown, .45
Dragon's Blood, the name for the infamous Erinyes conversion process which makes near-superhuman women for THEMIS. It was supposed to be impossible for circumstance to allow it to be misused and accidentally introduced to a human body. Unfortunately, none of us were counting on Kudzu and her need for revenge, or her sadism. My Name is Michael Holtman, and I am a Myrmidon Heavy serving my time till I pay off my process debt. This is the story of how I screwed up, pissed off the bosses, and almost got myself killed on behalf of a company that was under the mistaken impression that I was disloyal.
Euryale Dirae
Chapter 1
Or: Oh Dear God why does this shit always happen to me?
By Joe Gunnarson
Downloading updated protocols...
“You are the most fucked up, mealy-mouthed piece of shit to have ever stepped onto my deck of pain. The enemy will never have to fire a round at you, Holtman, you are already your own worst enemy.”
I remembered the words of THEMIS’ most notorious drill sergeant, Sergeant Korovitch, a Russian Orthodox Jew tasked with weeding out the shitheads and dead weight before THEMIS wasted precious resources bringing them online as their elite, the Myrmidons and the Erinyes. I thought back to his words every damned day, and probably would for the next ten years. In THEMIS’ eyes I was simply a fuckup they couldn’t simply be rid of, so they stuck me in a place where they figured I couldn’t do any damage until I paid off my debt.
I ran through the camera checks from my desk, occasionally glancing up to look at the faces of the people coming through, nodding pleasantly from my throne of impotence. I could have been chilling, jacked into the net or watching a vid, but simple pride kept me from doing so. Being the door guard at the THEMIS Medical Center, the company’s nerve cluster in North America for the building and augmentation of the mercenaries this company employed was a meaningless position.
I raised my eyes and nodded with a fake pleasant expression as three guys with that distinctive ex-military look to them wandered up to the desk. Just for the hell of it I scanned them with my cybernetic eye that replaced the one I lost in a vibroblade fight. My right eye clicked and overlayed them, running in concert with the control suite locked around my spinal column and brain stem, buried under the best dermal plating money could buy. A quick glance told all. No weapons, and their faces matched up with the lot of chumps who were enjoying their first days off in months before being thrown to the tender mercies of the docs.
Scanning… The cyber-eye bracketed the three faces and superimposed them, checking them against the photos on my clipboard for a match. In each case, cross-referencing them with the files on-site. Authorized. So nice of my cyberware to tell me what I could see with my own eyes.
I had to wonder, would they be Myrmidons like I had been before I got busted back to desk jockey chump detail to try and pay off my four-hundred-grand debt for the heavy cybernetic augmentation I had undergone, or would they exit the facility as one of the lithe and agile Erinyes? One could never tell, and even though I respected what the Erinyes could do I couldn’t understand why in God’s name someone would want to go through that process. From what I understood it hurt worse than Myrmidon conversion, and I tell you from experience that if you become a Myrmidon, when the docs are done you will cry like a newborn babe as you try to relearn to control your body.
Then there was the small matter that Erinyes were universally female when they exited the program. The Dragon-Blood serum could only be safely used on men, and the end result was female. Hence it was rejected by most military organizations worldwide. Didn’t stop me from eyeballing the end result though. The girls were universally gorgeous when they came out, and due to THEMIS’ recruiting tactics, unless you were in the know you would never, ever have a reason to guess that the girls were anything less than natural-born female.
The lead man came to the desk, “Hey, we’re kinda lost, we’re supposed to report to the docs for the augmentation, but we’ve never been here before.”
I nodded, relaxing a tiny bit and looking at each in turn. “Which programs you all here for?”
The two lead boys answered with “Myrmidon” in rapid order, and the third hesitated before saying “Erinyes” almost too quickly to catch. I approved of the fact that the two lead dogs didn’t even bat an eye or indicate that they disapproved of their companion’s assignment. The nascent Erinyes were always uncomfortable with touting the fact that they were going to be very, wildly female when the process ended. For all the societal advancements, homophobia was still a bright and shining star in the eyes of mainstream America, built on the bastion of freedom and family values that held less meaning today then magnetic acceleration held five hundred years ago.
“All right, Myrmidons to the second floor, room 212 for the medical orientation.” The two nodded.
I looked at the third, a well-built young man with a shock of fiery Irish red hair cut in the traditional military buzz cut, and looking about more than a bit nervously. “You are going to the twelfth floor, room 1201. Orientation has already begun, so I suggest you run. The stairs are faster.”
The red-haired recruit was gone with a speed that would have been shocking to anyone who was unfamiliar with the insane reflexes of the Myrmidons’ amped-up battle-sisters. The other two looked at me questioningly. “You’re not fucking with him are you?”
I shook my head. “Agatha’s a bitch. She likes starting early so she can chew out anyone who wasn’t there thirty minutes prior. I’d be more worried about your impending work. I suggest stocking up on about twenty bottles of Motrin, the big ones, each. It’ll help cut down the pain from the swelling once they kick you to rehabilitation.”
Somewhere in the back of the lobby the elevator opened and I got to hear the cheap, crappy music corporate types always felt the need to have playing in the things.
“Is it bad?”
“Yes, but it’s worth it. Get going you two. You have a date with a scalpel. Better to get it over and done with.”
Both nodded and left for the elevators. I snorted as they left. Sooner or later they’d learn a harsh lesson about elevators. I just hoped it wouldn’t kill them. There is a very good reason why I always take the stairs. I don’t give a rat’s ass if I have to climb to the top of a 200 story skyscraper, or to the roof of an arcology. I’m taking the fucking stairs.
I sighed and went back to staring at monitors and politely nodding to whatever asshole walked through the doors of the one building in THEMIS’ possession that you would have to be an utter idiot to pull something in. This was where we made Myrmidons and Erinyes, and there were always a couple on station just in case someone got froggy. You would have to be an utter moron to pull anything here. It’s why I’m here in fact. I was here in exile, pulled from the front lines blasting and playing cop from hell because I don’t have the proper corporate mindset. The bean counters didn’t agree with my assessment that the lives of our personnel and bystanders were an acceptable reason to engage in excessive collateral damage to save.
I don’t even have a function beyond door bitch. The real security work began past the lobby, out of sight of the teeming masses and prospective employees here to deliver resumes or to gather information on whether they wanted to take the plunge and become our elite troops. I’m here precisely because it’s the one job where I can’t conceivably cause any damage. I’m here, and I can’t do anything about it, even quit, because due to my own augmentation I’m still over two hundred and fifty grand in the hole. I’ve run the calculations, so long as I continue at my current salary and position I can pay it off in another decade, provided I’m willing to continue living in the spartan and minimalist manner to which I am becoming accustomed.
Protocol Update complete. Reboot?
/Yes
Rebooting.
I let the cyberware finished updating the security and Nanite damage control protocols as I continued my angry reminiscing.
I was a Myrmidon, one of the line grunts of THEMIS, one of the guys trained to blast holes in entire infantry platoons and go looking for seconds. I’m also stuck here in a dead-end job, begging for the corporate table scraps all because I couldn’t be bothered to let the people I was fighting alongside die to protect the company’s bottom line.
* * *
Six Months Earlier...
“All right Myrmidons, this one’s time sensitive! The tangos are holed up on the top floor of the supermall complex with the hostages! Our targets are Senator McKenzie, his family and the Yankees starting lineup. Our boys picked themselves an all-star cast, and they’re threatening to begin executions again!”
I looked up from my spot at the back of the VTOL and grinned at Dodson, my partner in crime as we began powering up the frames bracketing our body armor. The heavy weapons frames weren’t exactly power armor, we needed that shit like we needed a hole in the head, but the frames enhanced our strength enough that we could carry the old-school heavy weapons that were still just as effective in the modern day as they had been fifty years ago. We rammed the ammo feeds and spun the barrels on the Thunderstorm miniguns we were carrying, ready for the drop.
Sergeant Morris continued howling the FLASH brief as the VTOL banked steeply, heading for the target zone. “The primary insertion will be by Erinyes. Holtman, Dodson, you will cover the Apocalypse Twins while they go in. The rest of you knuckle-draggers will set up the cordon at the base of the mall and cover the primary escape route! Let the girls do the work, guys, we’re here to cover them not blow a hole in reality. This is a damn-near billion-dollar mall so I’d better not hear those miniguns fire unless you’re under threat, or you are given release authorization. Comprende?”
“Right boss, no fun time without permission!” I grinned as Dodson hollered the response up.
I grinned as the lithe forms of Chai and Kaitlin sidled into the seats next to us, unbothered by the wild maneuvering of the transport. I never got tired of working with the Erinyes, if for no other reason than they were awesome eye candy, plus I liked Kaitlyn Marksbury, AKA Boom-Boom. Honestly, what’s not to like about a statuesque redhead in form-fitting body armor?
“I’ll trade ya.” The primary object of my attentions held out her assault rifle, grinning at the minigun in my hands with undisguised envy.”
“What, give up Mamasita?” I chuckled. “You know I stay true to my woman, Boom-Boom.”
“Spoilsport!”
“Only on Tuesday!” I looked over as the ramp started opening. I could see tracers erupting to the sky around us, before the armor of the vehicle began vibrating. “All right, Me’n Dods will take the lead and cover you going in! You ladies are good, but I’m itching to play Terminator!”
“Terminator?” Chai’s exquisite oriental face was cocked, curiously. “You guys into old sci-fi?”
Dodson grinned at her. “When we clean these assbats out we’ll show you our old movie collection!”
Boom-Boom grinned. “All right, gunners, we’ll let you earn your pay.”
“Three seconds to drop.” The comm crackled as the pilot spoke. “Thirty feet off the deck, so try not to break those fancy rigs you two idiots are wearing.”
“Yes, mommy.” I waited until the line went green and jumped up, and out of the back of the transport, with Dodson right behind me. We may not be as fast, agile or skilled in close as our female counterparts, but Myrmidons are stronger and tougher. In the case of the heavy gunners, we’re even more so at the cost of a substantially higher debt rating to pay back for the cost of augmentation.
The thirty foot drop was enough to cause my cybernetic eye to lock in, highlight and flash threat warnings for over thirty enemies. All of them were armed, and I actually had to cut the data down so I didn’t get overloaded with technical information on armor and weapons. All I needed to know was if I could chop them into chutney.
I felt my feet hit concrete and took the impact on my legs and the power frame, crouching until my ass almost kissed the deck before springing back up as I heard the slam of Dodson landing beside me. Out targeting systems came alive with threat warnings as both of our miniguns spun and began shitting burster rounds, explosive-tipped 7.62mm rounds that would penetrate and explode. The effect on an unarmored body was gruesome as the two of us went back to back and began spraying the rooftop defenders like a pair of mad firefighters with a firehose.
Bullets hit our armor and deformed, feeling like a heavy rain as we tore apart the opposition, bodies literally exploding as our fire cut a bloody mess through their ranks. While we were down to business I had to check my fire as the two figures in shiny body armor hit the deck and rolled, sprinting for the entrance at a speed that seemed impossible for a human body while the two Erinyes showed exactly why they were the most efficient and effective combat troops THEMIS boasted.
The two door guards had only begun to bring their weapons to bear on the new threat when Chai and Kait cut them down with their mono-bladed katanas. The poor bastards stood as much chance against them as their buddies had against the massive, overwhelming fire my partner and I were laying down. The Erinyes were the epitome of the basic military adage of “mobility kills.” They did with finesse and speed about what me and Dodson were doing through sheer brute force. As much as I will extol the virtues of just how badass the myrmidons are, either Chai or Kait were only slightly less dangerous than Dodson, myself and our miniguns combined.
The two ladies were inside killing people long before we finished pacifying the roof three minutes later. A couple minutes later the transport cruised overhead dropping a pair of bricks on our position. I picked one up as Dodson ejected his battery pack and ammo unit as I connected another six thousand rounds to the back of his frame, and he repeated the action for me. A quick check showed that the heavy ballistic plates on Dodson’s armor were pockmarked in multiple locations and his chestplate had a hairline fracture. Mine had held firm against the enemy fire.
As the last known bad guy fell, my cyberware began scanning. No more targets on the rooftop. That didn’t mean there wasn’t some asshole hidden behind a wall, just that I was neither hearing, nor seeing anyone.
“Control, this is Myrmidon Heavy, the roof is secure, awaiting further orders.” I spoke into the com while Dodson moved to overwatch on the roof, covering the exits. Now was the time we had to be careful as we listened to the violence below on the Squad channels, as well as the two Erinyes’ comm net. From the sound of it, only me and Dodson had been having an easy time of it, though our boys down below were having a rougher time of it than the two women raising merry hell a mere floor below us.
“Roger Myrmidon Heavy, maintain station and cover the egress route.” Simons’ voice wasn’t one that would normally engender feelings of annoyance, unless you knew him personally. The control officer was a bean-counting weasel-dicked asshole whose sole purpose in life was to find reasons to garnish your pay. He got a bonus for every buck he managed to save on these operations. He was universally despised by every single Myrmidon and Erinyes operator who ever had the misfortune to talk to him for longer than the ten seconds it took to learn to hate him. The Erinyes were lucky. He didn’t get to do the bean-counting for them.
“Control this is Boom-Boom, egress below is cut off, the hostages are en route to secondary extraction point. We’re covering their... try that again asshole! Escape.”
“Look alive Mikey! We got us civvies to cover!” Dodson grinned at me and I moved to the door as the sounds of thunderous fire erupted from below.
“Ok Jake,” I nodded, “cover the other exits, I’ll get the civvies to the drop point!”
We began moving just in time as a swarm of civilians came pouring out, terrified and confused as I did my level best to herd them towards the extraction point. Men, women and children all, I approved. Chai and Kait didn’t stop at freeing the people who’d been paid for on the rescue. A quick count told the story, fifty hostages, almost twice the number we’d been assigned to recover, yet less than half of the number who’d been taken. The terrorists had been execution-happy during the first six hours of the standoff, and they pretty much only had the valuable hostages left, mostly people who were worth real money or their kids.
Targets marked. Weapons negative. The cybereye began flashing images of all the faces as I did a headcount. All the people we were paid to save accounted for.
“Control this is Myrmidon Heavy, we need two transports to the roof soonest. All targets plus twelve evacced.”
“Negative, Myrmidon Heavy, one transport. Put the people we’re here to pick up aboard and get on the transport. The extras can fend for themselves.”
“Bullshit Simons, you get that other fucking transport up here or I’m going to take Mamasita, ram her up your ass and loosen you up, I have kids on this roof. You will evac them or I will hunt your ass down again.” I had absolutely no tolerance for Simons’ nitpicky bullshit, and I have taken steps to discourage him before. The thirty-grand penalty accredited to my debt for his hospitalization costs had set me back, and he took every opportunity to penalize me for my temerity. But he had also learned not to screw with me when I made a call in the field.
“Wait one. Transports en route, Myrmidon Heavy. The boss wants to have a chat with you.”
“That’s fine you dickless wonder. I’ll take my medicine from her like a good boy.” I signed out of that particular line of conversation. Diana was going to tear me a new asshole, even if she agreed with me on principle. It was her job. The fact that I knew she agreed with me when I called my theoretical supervisor to task took the sting out of the severe verbal tearing she inevitably gave me whenever I got snarly about things like this. Simons didn’t give a flying fuck about anything that wouldn’t increase his bonus for a successful op with minimum collateral damage.
“Jesus Mike I know Diana’s hot, but there’s easier ways to get alone time with her.” Dodson loved ragging me for my supposed love affair for the Erinys who was now a field supervisor.
“You’re just jealous because the women always scream when they’re alone with me.”
“This is Boom-Boom we need backup, there’s a lot more of these bastards in here than we thought. We are pinned in the Food Court and unable to move, requesting backup! Chai’s hit and we’re running out of ammo!”
I looked over and saw the transports making ready to land on the roof. “Myrmidon One this is Myrmidon Heavy. You in position to render aid?”
“Negative, Holtman, we are dick deep in bad guys and I have four casualties. We are having a genuine Custer’s last stand situation down here. Control, we need some backup down here, these guys suck, but there’s a crapton of them, and they’re porting better arms than we were led to believe .”
Simons’ voice came in over the comm. “Negative Myrmidon One, our objective is complete, you are to withdraw and regroup. The Erinyes will have to find their own way out. Myrmidon heavy you are to escort the hostages to the staging area. These orders come down from on high.”
“We’re sorry, your request cannot be completed as stated. Try again asshole, we are not writing off those two while they’re still breathing.”
Simons’ voice was entirely too smug. “Myrmidon One you will follow orders or face penalties from on high. I have appraised them of the situation. The Erinyes position is untenable. You will withdraw.”
“Roger Control, we will comply.”
“I, however, will not. Fuck you Simons.” I snarled into the Com as I helped load the last of the hostages into the transport. I stepped off just as the ramp started going up and saw Jake do the same off the other bird.
“Let’s rock and roll, bro.” Jake smiled grimly and snapped his helmet visor down.
Targeting systems online. Ammunition Counter Online. Target recognition online. Thermographics online. Arming weapon. Armor at 98% efficiency.
“Myrmidon Heavy you are in violation of your orders and your contract. Board those transports and get to the staging area.” Simons was screaming as he saw the dollar signs in his eyes falling drastically.
“We’re sorry, your call cannot be completed as dialed, please fuck off and go away.” I began stomping toward the roof entrance as Simons howled about insubordination.
“Myrmidon One, change of orders, you are to intercept Myrmidon Heavy and make them return to the staging area.”
Sergeant Morris’ voice crackled over the comm. “Heavy, you realize what you’re doing.”
“Yeah Sergeant, we do,” Jake spoke grimly, “we’re doing the same thing we’d do for you. Don’t try and stop us.”
“Acknowledged. Control this is myrmidon One, I do not believe we are capable of forcing them to stand down.”
“Then shoot them down.”
“Simons I don’t think you get it you bean-counting little shit. I am not taking my squad against a pair of heavies with the firepower to kill a tank. I am executing field command authority. We will not intercept Myrmidon Heavy.”
“Good call, Boss.” I kicked the entrance door off its hinges and began descending into the thunder below.
The first thing I saw when I reached the top floor of the supermall was the lifeless body of a small child. Jake saw him too. Maybe if we hadn’t seen that things would have gone differently. Both of us began stalking towards the main sound of gunfire. The first tango we saw exploded as two streams of tracer fire blew him to ribbons.
“Control we need help, we are pinned down! We can’t run anywhere! We need fucking help!” Chai was screaming into the com.
We came around the corner where Chai and Kait were pinned, and they were swarmed by bad guys, who were pouring massed fire into their position at a leisurely pace that might as well have amounted to the almighty hammer of God. The fact that they were still alive was nothing short of miraculous.
Multiple flashes began lighting up as my cybereye marked the position of each of the terrorists. Forty enemy targets. Threat Condition Yellow.
“Erinyes put your heads down and pray. You are about to have mass fire on your position. Myrmidon Heavy, out.” I spun up the barrels as I spoke and the two of us let fly, and suddenly the tables turned on the terrorists. Two guns capable of shitting over five thousand rounds a minute with explosive rounds aren’t noted for their ability to maintain damage control. Bodies, concrete, and store property alike exploded violently as we cut loose. The Terrorists were slow to react, and paid for it, more than a few diving behind cover that was insufficient to protect them from our wrath.
We killed almost everything that moved in there before our ammo hoppers ran dry and our guns stopped screaming. Hooray for the element of surprise. No ammo, no point in keeping the guns as the last surviving tangos bolted the hell away from us. Well well, what do you know? Fanatics CAN be taught!
Boom-Boom popped up from behind one of the food court prep areas with her hands raised, grinning at us. “I surrender.”
Target Identified… Kaitlyn Marksbury… Erinyes heavy ordinance Specialist. Thank you oh gods of electronics for pointing out the obvious.
“Move it, woman!” Jake hollered as we shucked the power frames and the guns. Without the Myrmidon Heavy Plate armor hard points the assemblies would be absolutely useless. “We gotta get the hell out while the getting’s good!”
Me and Jake drew our own Mono-Blade swords which we had purchased from the company from our own meager pay reserves. The twin blades we each carried had been a godsend on more than one occasion and we never regretted the purchase. Without the bulky power frames we could run and do all of the insane shit that made Erinyes and Myrmidons what we were.
I went over and helped brace Chai as Jake and Boom-Boom took the lead. The roof was a wash, the transports were already gone. There was no way in God’s name that bean-counting, shit-stain Simons would release another transport to pick the four of us up, being the spiteful little piece of shit that he is.
The Erinys woman clung to my back like a gecko as I rushed forward behind the other two. She’d taken a few too many hits to the body armor and was probably sporting a few cracked bones and a couple small shrapnel bits penetrating her armor.
It didn’t take long for the terrorists to regroup as Jake took the lead charging down the hallways and crashing down the stairwell with Kait right behind him. We WANTED him to be the first thing they saw. They’d mistake him for a bigger threat than the redheaded hellraiser dogging his heels.
Murphy’s Law dictates that anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. It began when about fifteen terrorist assholes came swarming up the stairwell. It ended when the tangos had Jake slam into them before they could really bring weapons to bear. Kait, of course in true Erinyes fashion dropped right down the gap between the stairwells and rushed up at them from below, letting loose with that lunatic Ki yell they teach the girls to do. It was like watching a bear and a cougar fight over a steak. The two of them turned the mass of terrorists into chutney who’s greatest contribution in life would be to make it hard to walk on the stairs while carrying Chai. Intestines can be kinda slippery, don’t you know.
Two more small groups of terrorists later, me and Jake exited the stairwell on the second floor above ground level. Kait was actually confused. “Why are we getting out here? We need to be on the ground floor!”
I didn’t stop running as Chai answered for me, still clinging to my back. “Because they’ll be waiting for us to try to escape that way!”
An alarm chime sounded in my head as my cybereye went to active thermographics and my Cybernetic coprocessors began counting warm bodies.
“Bingo. Thermal’s reading eighteen ahead. How many of these assholes do they have?” I was not happy, half-expecting to find out there was a battalion of the motherfuckers in here. My cybernetic eye was marking targets as we rushed forward. Chai pulled my sidearm from the holster and cocked it from her perch on my back while I made ready with the blades. Kait took Chai’s mono-blade and ducked behind me and Jake while the two of us presented an armored wall for her to take cover behind.
The two of us bull-rushed the enemy position, while Chai tracked on tangos, shooting carefully over my shoulder. Three of them were already dead when I hit the first two and Jake ran up and kicked a field goal on another’s testicles, actually tossing the man while I demonstrated my awesome fencing technique of swinging the blades wildly as hard as I could, shearing through weapons, ballistic vests and bones with equal ease. Once the tangos fully locked their attention on us Kaitlin Marksbury jumped over our heads shrieking like a banshee and landing in the middle of the cluster.
Me and Jake, we were admittedly devastating. Kait made the two of us look like a pair of carrots begging a food processor for mercy. She was almost too fast to track, darting between targets slashing while me and my partner hit the bastards with the force of a cargo hauler. The only thing that could possibly have made things worse for the terrorists would have been if Chai had been in play with her blade. I knew from experience that the petite Thai woman made all three of us look like rank amateurs. The only person I knew who could keep up with her in swordplay was Vangie, and even then it was a near thing.
Oh look, the front of the mall. The three of us left a trail of blood and bodies when I slipped on the gore, running for the windows. Chai let a light shriek as I faceplanted in a pool of dead asshole . As I stood up I actually had to raise my visor to be able to see where the hell I was going. I’d landed face-first in some tango’s unzipped abdomen. That looked distinctively like a Jake wound. He thought it was funny to help people trip over their own guts.
Jake and Kait were already at the window as me and Chai caught up. The little darling fired three times , cracking the armorglass just enough for me to slam into it and shatter it. Needless to say I closed my visor before impact. Better to be slightly blind temporarily than eat fragments of sharp shit in my good eye. Let me tell you, sharp, pointy things in the eyeball are not fun. I speak from experience.
Chai let herself fall away as we fell the short distance to the ground. I landed on my feet as Jake slammed down in similar posture while the two girls rolled. Jake landed closer to Chai, so he sheathed his blades, and turned to pick her up when the fire erupted from inside the mall. I felt the heavy patter of rounds chewing up my armor as Kait scrambled to interpose me between her and the incoming fire. Smart of her, considering my body armor could suck up a lot more punishment than hers could. ‘Twas one of the benefits of being heavy infantry.
Armor at 82% efficiency. Left calf Mynomer auxiliary bundle damaged.
Jake wasn’t so lucky. His armor had been damaged badly on the roof, and more so on the way down to the second floor. An armor-piercing round found the crack on his chestplate and blasted right through the armor, and the subdermal reinforcement protecting his ribcage. My buddy went down like a wet sack, falling on top of Chai with a gurgling cry.
I howled and literally grabbed and threw Kaitlyn towards the reinforced line of cops, THEMIS personnel and other sundries. Thankfully she took the hint and vaulted behind a barricade as I turned and lumbered back to the two fallen, fighting against the tide of bullets slamming my armor, trying to push me back. As I grabbed Jake’s arm and hooked Chai I ran towards the barricades, feeling each impact, and my armor cracking, and coming apart finally. I only had ten yards to go.
Armor at 81%.
Nine.
Eight.
Armor at 74%
Seven.
Six. Almost there.
WARNING! Armor below 70% efficiency rating, breach imminent.
Five...
* * *
Present day...
I stepped into the bar for my second job, the one I used to make ends meet and keep from going so deep into debt I’d be spending the next twenty years paying it off. Being a bouncer didn’t pay well, but for Jake I’d have put on a dress and played serving wench in drag. He’d been my best buddy since we’d joined the Myrmidons together.
I dropped the reinforced leather duster behind the bar with Mindy, our bartender this week. We seemed to go through a bartender at least once a week whenever one inevitably pissed Jake off. It was so hard to find help that didn’t assume you could skim off the till when your boss was wheelchair-bound. Mindy smiled at me as I wandered up to my accustomed spot at a table in the middle of the bar. Everyone knew it was my table, everyone knew better than to screw with my table, and if that wasn’t enough the bright red shirt with SECURITY emblazoned on both sides got the rest of the message across.
The Silo had two major draws that kept it populated with patrons. The first thing was that Jake insisted that it always remain meticulously clean. The second was the fact that we had an open invitation to the Erinyes and Myrmidons, and a ten percent discount on the drinks. The civvies loved to drop in to gawk at THEMIS’ professional super-soldiers. They also thought it was the high point of an evening to see someone start something and get beaten mercilessly by an augmented human. Needless to say, as a bouncer, I did most of the beating. I also got to hear a lot of amusing conversation about whether or not Erinyes or Myrmidons were tougher. It was funny as hell to listen to.
The evening went by quietly, with a few people inevitably coming by wanting to hear war stories about the Myrmidons, or to arm-wrestle, or to see the bouncer rip someone’s head off and boot it up their ass before they died. I hadn’t done that to anyone, but I had given a few impromptu flying lessons. I smirked as the few regulars of the nascent bar filtered in. None of them were Myrmidons or Erinyes. Our boys and girls knew better than to have a specific bar they always hung out at. Too easy a target.
A pair of ex-Myrmidons weren’t worth the expenditure of firepower.
Jake rolled his wheelchair up to me and grinned holding up a deck of cards. “Hey Mike, how’s the day job going?”
“Boring, just like usual. You know how we bitched all the time about never getting a break from combat runs?” While I talked to Jake I listened to a pair of women argue about whether me or Jake were actually Myrmidons or just a couple poseurs cashing in on the THEMIS corporation’s rep.
“Yeah, don’t tell me you miss getting shot at!”
“I don’t but sitting at the desk for eight hours a day... I almost wish something would happen, just for a change of fucking pace.”
“You could always come work here full-time. I almost got my old debt squared off from what I’m making off the bar here. I could help you out Mike. You don’t deserve this shit.”
I sighed and stared at the cards before reaching over and taking them. “I appreciate it Jake, but I need to figure this out. As much as I hated running nonstop, I hate this downtime bullshit more. I don’t know how to explain this shit man.”
Jake smiled sadly at me. He understood something about me then that I never really understood until much later. As much as I bitched and griped and complained, I would never be happy except on the sharp end of the spear, running and gunning until the day I died. Staying with THEMIS loyally was my best option for doing that without going rogue and being hunted by a pissed-off pack of my former peers. Besides, I wasn’t sure where I could go. A Myrmidon or Erinyes released from their debt, should they choose to go solo could practically name their price, and damned near anyone with sanity and an interest in hiring them would meet it.
I didn’t have that option. No legit corp or merc company would touch a Myrmidon or Erinyes who’d skipped out on their debt. It was too high-risk. Not that Erinyes tended to stick with the merc work long after they paid off their debt. They weren’t in it for the money, or the glory. They were in it because the Erinyes augmentation process allowed them to live in a fashion they had dreamed of since they understood it. Almost every single one who survived through her full term vanished from the operator listings and retreated to normal life, content in the knowledge that they could pass as the people they were meant to be now that they had corrected the mistake of genetics that had made them born male.
Myrmidons were a different lot. We were in it for the money. We were in it for the glory. We were there to be the biggest badasses on the planet and revel in the fear and respect that brought us. When we retired from THEMIS we were almost universally sought as operators. We were considered accessible, and those in the know about the recruiting proclivities for the Erinyes usually found us less objectionable.
I didn’t even have that. I was a chump security guard with cybernetic enhancement. Yay me. Jake saw the depressed spiral begin and simply rolled away. I swear to Christ the only thing that cheered me up when I was in a funk was a good fight, or enough beer to get me drunk, but I wasn’t going to spend fifty NuBucks to get buzzed. I couldn’t afford it anymore.
Jake was on his cell within three minutes of leaving. More bar business. He always left me alone when I got in these shit moods since we got tossed out of the Myrmidons. You’d think I could let go of being disgraced by a merc group, just another bunch of corporate bag-carriers in a long line of corporate bag-carriers. Yes, I was depressed, and it was getting worse. Yes, I was feeling used and disillusioned. Yes I was feeling sorry for myself, and that there disgusted me.
Jake was crippled, numb from the waist down. Even the docs couldn’t fix his spine with cybernetics, so he was enjoying the wonderful world of catheter bags and liquid food diets. He still managed to pull himself out of the shithole and was getting himself paid out. Yet here I was, still wallowing in a dead end because I couldn’t think of anything better I could do. Hooray for ruts.
My reverie was broken two hours later when eight guys in drag, dressed as Erinyes walked in, shrieking and gesticulating wildly. “Hello boys and girls! We have arrived!” The voice was familiar, and when I looked, I started laughing. It was Sergeant Morris and the squad, in full bad drag glory as they swarmed about the bar horrifying the patrons. I was laughing my ass off at the atrocious parody of the elite troops of THEMIS as the guys split up and swarmed me and Jake.
My cyberoptic told the tale. The seven men and one woman were all done up in glistening, skin-tight costumes, and the guys were sporting falsies of ridiculous size. A mishmash of wigs completed the picture of horror, especially with Kiehl wearing the repulsive pink/purple concoction of a modern high fashion style that made me wanna vomit.
Branston was the worst, of course, shimmying up to me in what looked like kitchen cling wrap spraypainted to look like Erinyes Fury armor, wearing a hideous, spiked blonde wig and speaking in that rough, gravelly voice of his. “Hey sexy, buy a girl a beer?”
“Branston what the fuck are you guys doing?” I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. My foul mood was shattered, and with it, the hopes of a truly horrific beating to any troublemakers for the edification of the patrons.
“SHHH! Holtman, you’re not supposed to know us!” Sergeant Morris was hissing, until the next sentence, almost yelling it at the top of his lungs. “Myrmidons aren’t supposed to skyline themselves in public so we’re in disguise, brilliant no?”
I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I just started laughing and it just didn’t seem to want to stop. It was too good, the kind of loopy bastard bullshit we always pulled before, usually to drive the Erinyes insane. And what’s worse? Less than five minutes later, Vangie, Diana, Chai, Cleo and Dallas walked in together, though I actually had to look twice when I saw them. No way Dallas was that short. The oddities mounted up, until a few seconds later I realized what was up. My cybereye allowed me to cheat, doing a facial pattern match.
“Dallas” on second inspection, under the Stetson, denim and shit-kickers had a petite Thai face and wasn’t much taller than your average thirteen year old girl. Chai was playing cowgirl, which would make the too-tall Chai, Vangie. Dallas was dressed up as Kait, and how I missed the fact that Cleo’s thick afro framed Kitten’s petite white-girl complexion I will never know. And when I realized that Diana, all decked out in her business suit and pulled-up blonde hair was Kait, I felt another bout of snickering coming on. It was too good, the girls wanted to be incognito, so their idea of a disguise was dressing up as each other!
The party began when Dallas , dressed as Kaitlyn, went over to the jukebox and queued up some very loud country music. The other girls screamed and threatened death when the “Erinyes” with falsies began picking them up and dragging them to dance. Many more death threats were given, though none were carried out. The bar regulars watched with stunned expressions as me’n Jake’s buddies made complete asses of themselves. It was truly awesome, and my foul mood died screaming and clawing.
Vangie was the first one to drop by to talk to me, once everyone had a chance to molest Jake. He wasn’t complaining when Kait sat in his lap and wheeled the two of them around the dance area, doing silly stunts with his chair. I looked over to the once-blind woman who sat across my little territory-table and grinned. “You know, the Thai look just isn’t you. You look better as you.”
Vangie smiled. “We’re in disguise. It wouldn’t do for us to be seen with those disgraced in the halls of high finance.” She reached over and put a hand on mine. I let her, and didn’t read much into that, with Evangeline that sort of thing was not an invitation. It meant she was relaxed enough to let some of her guard down. Some, but not all. I will feel a great swell of pity for the poor fool who decided to use the fact that she likes to touch people when talking meant something more.
Wait, who am I kidding? I’ll laugh my ass off when I see the dumbass who tries to push any of the girls too far, Erinyes or Myrmidon. The carnage would live on in legend.
“I’m glad to see the lot of you in here Evangeline. I was starting to go a bit bugshit.”
“So Jake said. Something about you being a giant, mopey goon who’s thinking too much.” She smiled mildly. “You know you’re the only person that ever calls me by my full name.”
“I could call you Evie, but you’ve already threatened to kill me for that.”
“So you bring it up again? Mike what is it with you and tempting fate?”
“What can I say? If I get too bored I get stupid.” I grinned. “But at least in one case I don’t regret doing something stupid.”
“Thank God for that.” Vangie smiled. “Wish you were back on the teams, Mike. It’s always nice to know that you have someone willing to cover you as backup.”
I nodded. It was always nice to feel appreciated. “So is it true Chai put Simons in the hospital again?”
“No, me and Kait put that bag of shit in the hospital.” I got hugged from behind by the petite Thai woman in a really bad blonde wig. “Well, Kaitlyn held him down. I did most of the hitting.” She got that sly, mysterious smile she was so fond of.
“Ah. One second... OY! Jake, the Apocalypse Twins squashed Simons! I have verbal confirmation!” I grinned at my buddy and he got a beatific smile that was almost serene.
Chai groaned. “Ratting out your buddies isn’t cool Mike.”
“Ratting out? Hell Jake promised if that rumor was true you two were getting free drinks the next time he saw you.”
“Oh well in that case...” She got that perky and happy look only she can do as Vangie groaned.
“Why do you encourage them?”
“Anything to put the screws in the minds of the corporate bean-counters Vangie.”
Evangeline shook her head. “So petty revenge in any way you can get it?”
I grinned. “Damn Skippy.”
“You’re hopeless, you know that, right?” Vangie had a smirk on her face as she said it.
“I am not hopeless!” I protested with every fiber of my being, “I am a perfectly rational individual!”
Kait took the opportunity to prove me a liar three seconds later when she plopped into a chair holding a beer. “Heya Mike, I was wondering. You mind if I crash at your place tonight? I seem to be a bit strapped.”
I nodded, without really thinking. “Sure Kaitlyn. I got a slice of space for you.” I realized both Chai and Vangie shaking their heads at me, with amused and exasperated expressions as I agreed to put up the Erinyes’ most notorious freeloader. “What?”
“Hopeless...” The two of them are really creepy when they speak in unison.
In my defense, Boom-Boom is really hot, and fun to be around. Just don’t give her anything that explodes. Or has bullets... Or has any capacity to cause any structural damage whatsoever....
Ok I’m hopeless, bite me. I still don’t regret it.
* * *
A week later, and I’m still letting the adorable little freeloader sack out at my place. There’s something to be said for a tall redhead who can look you in the eye without wearing heels. But, I left her to huddle under the bed covers while I got up and got dressed in my THEMIS Peon attire. The white security chump shirt went really well with the black pants that seemed to pick up every goddamned hair they came in contact with. Fancy that, more than a few red ones.
It was seven AM when I was ready to roll out the door and face the next long-ass, boring day. I was also terminally short on funds until payday, which meant as much as I liked her, Kaitlin had to go. She’d been stealing my supply of Rocky Road ice cream, and with her metabolism, I could only afford to feed her for so long. So while I am perfectly willing to do incredibly stupid things to save her life, her free comfort stood a distant second to my eventual freedom from indentured servitude to THEMIS.
“Kaitlyn, wake up.” I gently shook her. A groan and her rolling over and pulling the bed sheets more tightly about her was my reward for being nice. “Kaitlyn, get up. I gotta go to work, and you need to get off your ass and go kill people for money.” I shook her again.
“C’mon Dad, I don’t want to go to football practice.” Her murmered reply explained so much about her personality.
Well shit. Some days it just wasn’t worth chewing through the leather straps. If I left her like this I’d come home to an empty fridge, again. I reminisced that sometimes being one of the theoretical “nice guys” just didn’t pay off as I went and poured two cups of caf. The sickening-sweet soy flavored caffeine substitute did wonders for focusing my priorities. I couldn’t afford real coffee, or even good tea.
So, with my newfound purpose induced by tailored bio-engineered plant-based drink I walked over, and made my right eye glow red, a useless feature I’d had installed in the bionic because of my love for old Arnold Schwarzenegger movies. I kicked the bed frame once and made it jump, rattling Kait’s cage enough to get her to sit upright with a mildly freaked, somewhat ready to kill look in her eye.
“Sarah Connor?” I was pretty good with the Ahnuld impressions, and unfortunately, like everyone else from my generation, Kaitlyn Marksbury was a video Phillistine
Her reply of “Huh?” was rather eloquent under the circumstances, I’m sure.
I tossed the mattress, rolling her onto the floor and began speaking in my faux-Austrian accent. “Wake up redhead! Rise und slime! You have a very busy day, for you need to go find work, and get paid, so up and at ‘em! This is your eviction notice! Get up or I grab you and turn you into Alka-Seltzer tablet! Plop-plop, fizz-fizz, no more you!”
“Mike, what the hell?”
“Well, Marksbury, nice to see you can join the land of the living!” I dropped the movie-drama act and handed the porcelain mug of caf over. Whether that look was one of gratitude, or a debate on wether to shatter the mug and gut me with the fragments I’m still not sure. But the joke was on her! I’d given her decaf! Yes, I know, decaf caf is an oxymoron, and also unnecessarily cruel. It also prevented the hyperactivity known to destroy the sanity of everyone around her.
I’ve had more than one lovely conversation with Vangie or Chai after allowing Kait to drink anything with caffeine, or any other stimulant at swordpoint. Feeding Boom-Boom chocolate was similarly punishable by death in their eyes. Diana simply told me she would run me through the Dragon-Blood protocols without anesthesia if I ever did it again. No. On so many levels no to both the dying and to becoming an Erinyes.
“Ugh.” Boom-Boom shared my opinion of the caf, but she swallowed it down. “That time again?”
“I’m afraid so. Unless you’re planning on a more permanent relationship I can’t afford to feed you.” I grinned as I spoke. There was no easier way to scare Kait out of one’s home than to mention anything resembling marital commitment. I only hinted because I didn’t want to scare her off permanently.
Yes I am a bastard, learn to cope with it. I did.
“Where’s my clothing?” She looked around as I tossed something I pulled out of one of the dressers. Yes, she’s been a repeat offender at my shitpile of an efficiency apartment, did we not already establish that I’m fucking hopeless?
“Come on, Red, I’ll drop you off at central so you can wheedle some table scraps from Diana.”
“Gee, thanks Mike, you’re such a pal.”
“I aim to please.”
“Asshole.”
The trip to Central was a short one, and I dropped Kait off the back of my Takesawa rice-burner motorcycle at a mere thirty miles an hour. She was improving. It used to be she’d tumble when she tried that. Well, she still tumbled, but this time she didn’t get scraped up. Bloody Erinyes always had to show off. Three miles at 150 MPH, two dodgings of a traffic cop and three collision warnings later, I got to my destination.
My arrival at the THEMIS Medical Center was heralded by the shrieking wail of the metal detectors and weapons sensors at the front door. Oh yeah. I was supposed to turn on my IFF before going in. A quick eye-twitch later and the alarms stopped going. Thankfully the lobby was more or less empty. I grinned as Colton gave me an irritated look from the front desk. Unlike most people, including him, I had more metal in me than some family cars. I also had more than my fair share of nasty tricks to go with it.
“Mike why the hell do you do that at least once a week?” Colton’s face looked like he bit into something sour. “Now I have to file an alarm report, again.”
“Hey Louis, if it weren’t for me this would be the most boring job in the world.”
“I like boring. So can we get this change-over done so I can go see my lawyer? My wife’s trying to gouge more alimony out of me since she found out about my fifty-cents an hour pay raise.”
I grinned. “See, that’s why I don’t get married. Women are crazy.”
“Really? I thought it was because you’re an asshole that no one sane would spend time with.”
I was about to protest when I remembered that Boom-Boom was my most frequent ex-girlfriend. I only call her that because it annoys her, but truth is truth. She’s fucking insane. It’s one of the reasons I like her so much.
The changeover was smooth as silk, as always. I took over my primary duty of desk-dork and began my routine of putting on a false smile and greeting every Tom, Dick and Sally who walked past my desk while pretending I was important for the clueless berks who didn’t know any better. For a THEMIS building, there was very little traffic in the Erinyes and Myrmidon department. Only one or two regulars who had climbed the corporate ladder came in the front, as well as the odd visitor dropping in to see someone they knew in the tanks.
I wiled away my time during dead hours of the day by plugging my datajack lodged into my brain behind my ear into a net-node and playing reindeer games with the security mainframe and the two tech nerds plugged into it 24/7. Bryce and Millie weren’t exactly what one would call social animals. I swear THEMIS paid them solely in Caf and snacks. The two of them probably didn’t even have the social presence of mind to recognize each other as the opposite of gender and try to go out on a date or something. Otaku anyone?
Sadly, my game of “shuffle the filing systems” ended abruptly when Central actually called me up on the internal comm system they had so kindly wired into my skull and spine. The otaku twins seemed disappointed when I logged out. I was actually a challenge for them.
The beep in the back of my brain got annoying so I answered. “Myrmidon 112-Delta, lack-of-help desk, misdirection and misquotation department, how may I annoy you?”
“That’s not the response procedure, Holtman.” Oh goody, it was Diana, calling little old me on the comm. She sounded annoyed. Good, that meant all was well in her little world.
“I’m also not supposed to be communicating on this net, chicka. Make it quick, since I don’t feel like having another inquiry today.”
“Just because you’re not under my direct authority...”
“No offense, boss-lady, but I’m seriously not supposed to be on the tactical commo system anymore. They put a section-ninety on my data file, so if they catch me using it they can all but smelt my ass down for car parts.”
“Fine. I’ll file the exemption right now.”
“Muchas gracias Seniorita.” I ignored the incoming desk traffic for the first time in weeks, praying that this wasn’t a social call and that I would be doing something other than staring at camera monitors and smiling at every shithead who had delusions of corporate grandeur. “You have my undivided attention.”
“Thank you, Holtman.” I had to hand it to her, Diana was the supreme queen of numbers and corporate bitchmongering that everyone came to hate on principle, because she was the one handing out the liability and collateral penalties. Fortunately, in her defense, Diana wasn’t nearly as bad as Simons. First of all, she actually had a personality that wasn’t akin to washing with a bar of shit, in fact, when you weren’t actively pissing her off she was downright pleasant. Secondly, unlike Simons (she was pretty much his opposite in every way except for being an anal-retentive bean-counter) she had also done her tour of duty running and gunning like every other Erinys the company had. This meant she was more likely to let unavoidable shit slide, as she was personally familiar with what it was like to be on the deck getting shot at when an op went tits-up.
“All right Diana, I’ll cut the shit. You’re calling me, so something’s thoroughly dicked up. What do you need from me?”
“I’m getting the runaround on the psych evals for three of the newbies. Two Erinyes, one Myrmidon. Someone on high wants these three in the high-pay bracket, and they aren’t giving me the full skinny. I need someone to get me a copy of those profiles and hand-deliver them.”
“If I do this, it’s my ass Diana and you know that. I got no more strikes left here.” Gosh I do have a penchant for understatement, don’t I? If I pissed in the wrong bowl of corn flakes at this point I’d have gone from the shitlist to the ‘poor bastard died in a car accident’ list.
“You do this and I’ll see what I can do to force a downgrade from a section-ninety to a section-eighteen. Don’t get caught Mike.”
I made my decision in less time than it would take Boom-Boom to pull a trigger. “Have Dallas pick it up in thirty minutes. Gimmie an upload on which fools you need twigged.” A section-eighteen was a field operative term for ‘last chance.’ If you fucked up on an op you wound up pulling desk detail... rather like I was doing at the time. Get back in the field, with a black mark, or sit snug and secure in my desk-jockey job playing it safe and praying that I would be able to pay off that debt for all the cybernetic hardware I wasn’t putting to use.
The data-dump was almost instantaneous, and the three names and ID numbers popped up in my optics. “Care to gimmie the skinny on what’s got you so worried here, Diana?”
“I’m hearing some unpleasant things about the three of them barely scraping past the psychopath filter.”
“Another Ayumi situation?”
Diana’s voice was somewhat less than friendly. “By all indications, somewhat worse.”
“All right, I’ll get you the data, Dee.” I knew calling her that would piss her off, but I didn’t feel complete without hearing her dulcet voice shrieking at me in a rage at least once a week. Sadly, she didn’t seem to notice.
“Thanks Mike. I’ll see what I can do to get you back in heavy. It might take a month or two to get the paperwork pushed. Simons is going to fight me all the way.”
“I’ll give you a nickel to slit that turd-eater’s throat.” I knew the offer would sorely tempt Diana, since she was a mercenary to the core.
“I’m not that cheap Mike.”
“You drive a hard bargain. Ten cents.”
The pause before she said no and signed off indicated she’d actually considered it. It’s so nice to know your coworkers’ proclivities.
The actual data steal took about twenty seconds. Ten seconds were burned generating a random sample request for most recent psych evals, one second to insert the three names into the random list, and another nine seconds to doctor the file to look like it came from on high. I pulled this kind of shit for my squad leaders all the time. For a low-grade request like this, it was cake. I just made it appear that it came from the Med Center director’s office.
Thirty seconds later, Millie dumped the files into my desk for the scheduled pickup. A quick perusal of the three files buried in the mash told the story of how bad the rumors had to be for her to stick her neck out for me. There was no way in hell Diana wanted these three in her department. These were the kind of lunatics you bopped over the head and sent to a third-world country where people didn’t nitpick about things like mass murder and randomly shooting the occasional passer-by. THEMIS didn’t employ too many sick fucks like these three, but they did have their uses. Preferably they were used as far from the civilized world as possible.
I chopped the data to a chip and palmed it. All I had to do was wait. Twenty-nine minutes later the tall blonde with the cowboy hat, mile long legs and a set of tits you could comfortably use as pillows walked in. Dallas’ smoky blue eyes and body screamed out to the world that she’d picked up what was commonly known as the standard template used by most Erinyes for their body types. The effect was absolutely gorgeous, even if it was somewhat more than normal human genetics was capable of producing. Personally, I preferred a woman’s breasts to not individually take up the same volume as her head. I don’t exaggerate by much.
“Hey honey, thought I’d bring you a bit of lunch.” She leaned forward so that the button-up shirt she’d tied off like a bra to hold her breasts like a halter showed off her cleavage. Another thing that I did like about the Erinyes. Now that they had it, they generally flaunted it. And hell, the general invitation was too tempting to resist.
I got up, leaned over the desk and gave Dallas a kiss like we were old lovers. I really do not give a rat’s ass who she was before, nor will I apologize for it any more than I regret my on-again, off-again relationship with Kaitlyn. Besides, it entertained the hell out of me and gave me an excuse to feel her up while I dropped the chip into her cleavage. When we parted, she gave a smile and sauntered off like the cat that got the canary. Thankfully no one in the area knew better than to buy into that shit. Me and Dallas figured out early on that if we were going to try to become attached, one of us would leave the relationship dead. We were too much alike in all the wrong ways, and I quietly disliked most country music. That alone would have marked me as an enemy in her eyes. If only I knew then what I know now...
The rest of the day was boring, routine and everything I despised about my current position. The only light at the end of the tunnel I could see was the fact that when Diana promised to do something, it got done. I could wait one or two more months playing company chump if it meant I’d be back in the hotseat where I belonged.
By the end of my shift the only thing odd was a group of third-gen myrmidons coming in for their medical tune-ups promised them in their contracts. There were about seven of them, two women, five men, and some chickadee with natty brown hair and severe dogface disorder. Dogface wasn’t a myrmidon, unless she had a way of spoofing my cybereye, my hearing that had been tweaked so that I could hear the whine of old-model Mynomer muscle enhancements, or pick up the THEMIS IFF transmissions from their implanted radio transmitters.
When Miranda took over, I took a moment to appreciate one of the few women who stuck to the looks she was born with. There is something to be said for a girl who doesn’t feel the societal need to have one’s body altered to fit some cookie-cutter, perfectionist mold. Actually, it might just be I was a stereotypical guy. If it’s got tits, a vagina, two X-chromosomes and a pulse, I’m interested. Yeah, I think I’ll go with that, since I’m trying to be honest with myself here. Jokes about pets, livestock and wild animals will be punished by death.
I wrapped up my work and wandered upstairs. Part of the end of shift routine is a walkthrough to make sure everything is where it should be. I trucked up more to talk to the newbies who were awake, to give encouragement and support. I knew from experience that the conversion from man to Myrmidon was excruciating, and it helped to have a friendly face drop in to make sure all was well, besides the all-business doctors and nurses whose bedside manner was caustic enough to strip chrome.
I wasn’t supposed to go near the secured areas or even check doors. That had been spelled out in my work orders very clearly. Due to my actions, as reported by Simons, there hadn’t been any real recourse but to make a huge showing of how I was not to be trusted. My patrol and door checks had been relegated to the Emergency Response Team that happened to be cooling their heels at the office. Normally this sort of arrangement guaranteed a level of hatred for the poor SOB that had earned the wrath from on high. I was the exception, and the two Erinyes who were rotated out of the duty every five days generally volunteered to do it without even griping once they saw the name attached to the “Security Threats” list.
There were perks to being known as someone who the girls could count on to back them to the hilt. The Myrmidons were already well aware of the fact that they could trust me, whether or not the corporate hacks agreed with them. So most of the low-grade hostility directed at me was from my fellow working Peons who could count on never having to fire a shot in anger. Unfortunately I couldn’t spend a whole lot of time talking to my silent allies for fear some other Peon would raise a ruckus and they be tagged as a potential liability for their association with me. It was all very petty, paranoid, and stupid.
The one group to whom I retained unrestricted access was the newbies. They desperately needed a friendly face on the few occasions they were actually conscious between stints with the docs. I talked to them, joked with them, played spades with the few who could, and generally helped reinforce the lie that the company cared about them. They would learn that for a Myrmidon or Erinys, the only person you could count on was a Myrmidon or Erinys in due time. I simply did my best to make their medical misery less torturous, telling them simply that I had retired from active duty in the Myrmidons and was simply taking time to relax with a job that didn’t involve having grenades thrown at me for a little while. If nothing else, it gave IA’s monkeys watching me an idea that I was unwilling to rock the boat any more than I absolutely had to.
The first room the night crew docs were working on a pack of sedated “Gruesomes,” larval Myrmidons having 25-75% (depending on whether they were to be heavies like me) of their muscles stripped and replaced with Mynomer bundles that would allow them to almost pick up and throw a family car once they were fully online and their bones reinforced. None of these kids were in any condition to talk to me, and I wasn’t inclined to distract the docs while they worked. We called them Gruesome because until all of the implants were installed, the scarring and musculature mismatches were fairly horrific to look at. They looked like something Doctor Frankenstein had cooked up after an all night bender followed by dropping a few dozen doses of Trippers, designer hallucinogens.
The recovery ward was packed with bodies in various stages of the augmentation process. As I stepped in, I noted the 3d vids were playing the harmonious nature scenes carefully chosen to provide an illusion of serenity and calm. The kids were all bald, ranging from their mid twenties to one older broad who looked like she was pushing thirty-five. Yes, I call anyone who hadn’t put in at least six months active in the two combat arms of THEMIS kids, regardless of age. One of the benefits of the augmentation processes was the reversion of appearance to about twenty years old if you were of an older age. It wasn’t true rejuve, but it did add some years to your life-expectancy if you could survive the combat contracts.
“Anyone alive in here?” I didn’t get loud as I walked in. I figured if they were asleep, it was best not to wake them up.
The older-looking woman and two guys who looked about my age raised their hands, or tried to. The woman was closest. “All right folks, I’m just here to visit. I’ll get to each of you that stays awake, and talk for a bit.” The responding nods were a bit grateful. As a rule, families didn’t visit these medical centers, so the recruits were usually starving for attention.
I hauled a chair over to the woman, who once had pale, chestnut hair. She was covered by a blanket, but I could see the lumps and deformations of someone who was undergoing a hard-augment. The back of her head was immobilized and I could see the raw scars and seeping bandages of someone who had recently received the neural jack, and spinal control system that would be a part of her life until the day she died.
“Hey Molly,” I spoke as I sat next to her. “How you holding up?” Molly Yakubsin had been here for three months and was just about to undergo her final series of augments and the nanite anti-aging treatment before she joined the newbies in physical therapy to help her learn to control her new body.
“Hurts, but not… as much now.” Her voice wasn’t so raspy now, and I looked down behind her head and noted the wire jack passing from her skull to a series of monitors. The prognosis there made me happy.
“Pain suppressors are coming online, kiddo.” I grinned. “Just think, in a day, maybe two, the docs won’t need much anesthesia on you anymore. You’re about ready to go play with the brawlers.”
She gave me a weak smile. “I’m glad. It means this is almost over. I never thought I’d feel something worse than getting shot.” Her voice was quiet, a far cry from the hellraiser Marine Drill-Instructor voice that had arrived at the THEMIS Center before. She and the two boys she’d come in with were the ones who were awake. The three of them had gotten through screening together, carrying each other where they were weak. They had passed on the strength of that teamwork, and been accepted because people who thought to cover their buddies were a rarity. Our three-year training and weed-out course hadn’t managed to break them of that, so they were already being fought over by the squad leaders, who would all go berserk if the three were split up.
“Well from here it’s all gravy. You and your boys are at the top of the request board at Mym central. The boys and girls are itching to pick up three newbies they don’t have to smash over the head with the teamwork bat.”
“Nice to be wanted.” She gave another wan smile. “So how about you, Mike? You’ve heard our story, what about you? What did you do before you came to THEMIS?”
“Not much to tell. Like you and your boys there I’m a vet. Power Armor driver, specifically, but I never drove anything with wings. Infantry all the way, because I sucked at the piloting aspect. I couldn’t get a Power Suit to dance like a lot of the other guys, but I could lay down a blanket of pure hell with the weapons. So when I came here with Jake, they stuck us with the Four-Grand contract and built us into heavies. Basically what that boils down to is I’m tougher and slower than the other myrmidons, but I can carry a heavier load without problems, and I can soak a lot more punishment.”
“Stronger?” She asked.
“Put it this way, never let a heavy get hold of you in a sparring match. We’re not really that great at close in work, especially compared to the Erinyes, but we’re more the ‘wade in and smash’ types. You’re probably gonna be a light plate fire team, so you’re gonna be doing the hard work and getting the glory.”
“Cheaper debt payout, too.”
“Yeah, tell me about it. Four-hundred-thousand NuBucks. Makes me wonder if I shouldn’t have gone for the light suite and gotten the three-hundred contract some days.”
“How fast you pay it off?”
“I was careful with my cash, so in the first fifteen months I burned off a bit over a quarter of it. A hundred and thirteen thousand later and I was ahead of the game.” I wasn’t going to mention that I was still carrying two-hundred, eighty-seven thousand NuBucks of debt around. It was a fucking miracle I hadn’t been billed for that food court, but our overhead insurance covered it.
“So there really is a light at the end of the tunnel.”
“Yes Ma’am, and Myrmidons have one thing in common with the Marines. We never leave our buddies’ behinds. Or was it buddies behind, I can never remember with the Marines.”
“You must have been Army.”
“Guilty as charged.”
“You know Army means Ain’t Ready to be a Marine Yet.”
I grinned. “Just like Marine stands for Muscles Are Required, Intelligence Not Essential.”
She tried to laugh, a pained thing. We’d both heard it all before, but the camaraderie meant so much more than the quips and jabs at each others’ services. “Go. I think I’m going to try to sleep. Keep my boys company.”
“You got it Molly. See you on the firing line.”
“Good night Mike.”
I stood and walked over to the two guys who were awake, carrying the chair with me. “Howdy, Wilde, Thomlinson, You two are looking remarkably ugly today.” I noted their Pain Suppressors were online fully, though they wouldn’t be able to move much until the Mynomer bundles were jacked in and had come fully online. Right now they looked like a pair of skeletons wrapped in linen sheets with living heads.
“Fuck you Mike.” Simon Wilde was looking almost cheerful, probably as a result of the lack of shrieking agony. His shock of black hair set him apart from the dirty blonde Alex Thomlinson. “I see you’re making time with Mom over there. Be nice to her or we’ll break you.”
“Yeah yeah, I’m not fucking you, I’m not a marine, and I don’t go in for that shit.”
Alex chuckled from the other side. “You bring your cards there, Myrmidon?”
I grinned. These two were a pair of gamblers, and from my experience they worked with each other and Molly to chisel the shit out of anyone foolish enough to play, then split the take between them. They were going to be the terror of the Squads once they got into the real work.
“I brought my cards, you ready to lose more money?”
“Gee, if I recall you were the one who lost all his money last time.”
I chuckled as I pulled up a tray for each of the crippled men and began to deal. They were right. I lost again, and they divvied up the five NuBucks we’d bet quarters from when I left.
The Erinyes recovery and augmentation area was always less populated than the Mym side. This was a given, since Myrmidons outnumbered them five to one. It’s an odd dichotomy, the Erinyes and the Myrmidons. The altered women were wildly more efficient in combat, and cheaper to build by a wide margin. One Erinyes has roughly the combat efficiency of a Fire team of four Myrmidons, or two heavies, usually with less collateral damage, unless we’re talking Boom-Boom or Dallas. Hence they tend to get paid more. Unfortunately two things work against the Erinyes completely edging out the Myms.
The first issue is psychology. Yes, there are a lot of Transgender types who would cheerfully sign their lives away for the THEMIS contract to become women because it’s a full genetic and reproductive shift. Once these ladies have paid out their debt, and are getting ready to move on, they’re taken off the mandatory birth control protocols. You can’t get that even with the best biosculpt. The second thing is when all is said and done they are superhuman. There is a certain psychological set THEMIS is looking for. If you can’t make the grade they won’t do it, even if you offer to fork over the cash up front. I’ve heard rumors about someone managing to scam past that, but if the rumors are true, that little witch-to-be was still in THEMIS Boot Camp. We shall call her Experiment X. But what it boils down to is the number of TG types who fit the profile we’re seeking is a miniscule fraction of the ones who apply.
The second major problem is biology. Ok, you say if you can’t use it on guys without turning ‘em into women, just recruit women. Sadly, this is not an option. If a woman receives the Dragon-Blood protocols, she has a slightly better than ten percent chance of surviving. The rest die in agony as their bodies basically melt. Needless to say THEMIS has some standards of ethics, so the women who apply to join the THEMIS combat arms become Myrmidons.
All that being said, during the transition process, there is nothing so pitiable, pathetic and helpless as a transitioning Erinys. Most of the transitioners were unconscious. There was no reason to keep them awake through most of it unless one had a penchant for cruelty, and I’m told the experience of having one’s bones and muscles reduced to the consistency of Jell-O was excruciating.
I looked at the suspension tanks of Shok-Gel where fifteen naked bodies in various stages of transformation were suspended. The pale, greenish gelatinous stuff gave each of the new women an eerie cast. Fifteen new Erinyes would account for the losses and retirement replacements for the continental North American Federation over three full months, since their numbers were so low, unless something deeply fucked happened.
It was almost like a twisted surrealist’s vision, looking at people hanging with nothing but a breath mask in a fluid dense enough to suspend them but thin enough to not cause their bodies to warp and deform randomly from pressure. These women would remain here for three months, until the physical changes completed themselves. Then they would get another two in physical rehabilitation before being turned loose to special training classes, and limited on the job training for the first six months of their female lives.
Thankfully, there were no random visitors to see the nascent Erinyes hanging in limbo, stripped of their dignity, like experimental meat puppets on display for a mad scientist’s twisted pleasure. I moved on quickly, as the sight of this still unnerved the hell out of me. I want to say that it’s the twisted wax museum feel that creeps me out rather than looking at people who were neither male, nor female, halfway between who they were and who they will be. I’m still not sure what it is.
There was only one person in the prep ward. I recognized him as the redheaded guy from the week before who had rushed off like his ass had been on fire to meet Agatha, the hellraising hosebeast that was primarily responsible for orienting the new girls. He was unconscious, skin almost transluscent, seemingly dead to the world. He was already far enough into the process that he’d be dumped into a tank like the others soon. The initial de-ossification was probably the most hideous portion of the process, and the pained expression and labored breathing told the score. They had to keep you out of the coma until you were ready to go into the tank. You will never, ever meet an Erinyes willing to talk about that first week, except to say that it makes Hell Week of THEMIS basic feel like a Chinook, a warm wind in the dead of winter, pleasant and refreshing.
The recovery ward was empty. They’d moved Cassandra out to rehab and training. I was kind of glad, as the Erinyes wards almost invariably felt... off, almost funerary. As if the people leaving were the last mourners of dead men for whom there was no tomorrow. The end of one life and the beginning of the new had been a symbolic part of humanity, death, rebirth, transformation all intertwined into a confusing whole. The ward made me think existential thoughts, and I wasn’t a fan. By and large the Erinyes didn’t share my opinion, but they were the ones who had sought to escape a prison of flesh and bone built wrong, so they got a bit of leeway on that score. All the proof I ever needed to see existed in Kaitlyn Marksbury, and you would be hard-pressed to find someone who was more unabashedly, unrepentantly, and gleefully female even among the Erinyes.
Yes I’m biased, what the hell were you expecting from me? Deep thought and an impartial accounting? Hell no, I’m a grunt. Emotional and impulsive bias is part of who I am. Piss off.
Unfortunately all was not well in my world as I was passing the tanks. Three orderlies, two male, one female were screwing with one of the tanks. I didn’t recognize any of them, and I had photo files of everyone allowed into the building past the lobby. These people... these people were familiar. My eyes bugged out as I recognized the dogface woman and two older-generation Myrmidons who had been coming in, listed for routine medical maintenance. They looked like they were setting up to pull the half-woman suspended in the tank out. The shock of that could kill her, never mind that without the gel supporting her, without any support from her rubbery bones, she could literally crush her internal organs, including her brain, with her own weight rather like a beached whale.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I started barking almost as soon as I saw them, marching forward with a purpose.
They didn’t try to bullshit me, or come up with some lame-ass excuse about transferring a patient. The three of them simply drew sidearms and fired, silenced bullets piercing my skin to impact on the sub-dermal plating and Kevlar tac-weave mesh buried under my skin. Unfortunately, while the low-velocity slugs didn’t penetrate, they did throw me on my ass. The wounds shrieked pain for a split-second before the pain suppressors kicked in and I got an electronic equivalent of morphine.
“Get this one out of the tank before another hero shows up.” The woman seemed at least marginally in charge. “Marks, get the nanoshredders ready and drop ‘em in the other tanks.”
Transmitting…
One of the men, Marks I’m assuming spoke. “Shit! That guy flashed a panic code! That’s a Mym!”
Oh damn, my subtle playing of possum didn’t work. So much for being clever. None of the other Myrmidons, or the two Erinyes on babysitter detail answered my flash code, so I had to assume they were out of action. These bastards were planning on butchering the Erinyes in their sleep, and I was the only one awake. Screw subtle.
I came up howling like a demon and charged, sucking another four rounds to the body, and one that lodged in my bicep. I decided I could fix it later.
The woman tried to run, but I hit her first, whipping my fist at her head to hear a sickening crack as her neck snapped. Well, it was a good bet she was just a normal hominid. Oh well, no interrogating the dead.
The second guy dove on me while his buddy started screwing with a canister of some type. The two of us started slamming each other around like a pair of pissed off Kodiak bears fighting over a trash can. He punched me twice in the skull, rocking my head back and forth. When he hit me I felt it. God did I feel it. If the pain suppressors hadn’t been working I’d have been floored. I hit him back, rocking him similarly, and grabbing his orderly jacket.
I jerked him down and pushed him face-first into the ground, raising my hand and slamming it down like a hammer right above his kidney. The results were spectacular, and gratifying. I’d heard the servo-whine of a third-gen or earlier Myrmidon. Whoever this asshole was, he was porting around our old gear we quit using at least two years before, and that gear had a very specific weak point. If you hit them in the right place with enough force, it blew the tamper-proofing on all the gear, and fried every cybernetic system instantly.
He screamed like a child that got burned and went into convulsions as his entire rewired system locked, fused and paralyzed him. While he was twitching on the ground, wishing he was dead I looked at his compatriot. He was standing next to a tank holding a grenade-like device in one hand. “Stop right there or I toss this into a tank. Get on your face.”
“Why, so you can drop it on me?” I pulled one of the guns off the floor, aimed and fired. My first two shots missed. The third hit the device and cracked it wide open. He screamed as his own nanoshredder started tearing his own arm apart at the rapid rate, seeming to melt and slough away as the killer nanobots ate him faster than his body could cope with. As he sloughed to the floor he was dead from shock and cybernetic feedback long before the nanites reached his chest and began liquefying his internal organs.
Targeting system, online. Of course, a day late and a NuBuck short.
I did a fast sweep and exited, locking down the ward as I ran for the Myrmidon ward. These bastards were not going to murder my tank-babies and gruesomes on my watch.
When I arrived the scene was one of violence and carnage. Two of the intruders were quietly using silenced weapons to execute the men and women strapped to the tables. The first four were dead before I entered, and I got a clear view of a fifth going down right as I crashed through the door, firing. All of the bullets, mine and theirs, found their mark. Not a damned one of the subsonic, silenced rounds penetrated far enough to do more than piss us off. I slammed into the first one and went rolling with him, leaving streaks of blood from my gunshot wounds all over the place. I didn’t even slow down hitting him in the skull with my appropriated pistol several times until I heard a sickening crack as the reinforcement in his skull gave out and his brain ate a concussion that killed him.
His buddy had been helpfully shooting at both of us, and I was starting to feel it. Pain suppressors or no, there’s only so much cybernetics can do for multiple gunshot wounds and blood loss. I charged him, and we wound up tumbling over one of the now awake and panicked gruesomes. The brawl went on for another three minutes with the two of us slamming each other back and forth. I was slowing down. Even dermal armor and mynomer muscle replacements couldn’t protect the bits of soft tissue underneath forever, and I was hurting. I was desperately wishing I had my armor, and thanking whatever god was watching that they didn’t have it.
Warning! Damage to subdermal armor. Left arm bicep actuator damaged. Possible concussion.
I was also thanking Christ, his mother and God above that none of the bastards I’d bumped up against were heavy myms. Early-generation or not these SOB’s weren’t a whole lot weaker or less tough that I was. Another heavy mym, fresh and ready could have snapped me in half as damaged as I was.
I finally got the rat bastard in a bad position and slammed him above the kidney, several times, causing him to go into siezures, and slowly pulled myself to my feet. I went over to the one who’s head I had cracked, and yanked a chip from his head. Typical. The bastards hadn’t updated their internal comms. As I jacked in the chip I began hearing chatter from my comm system that told the story while the gruesomes tried to get my attention and ask what was going on. “Shut it folks, we’re boned.”
I linked to Central tac, the channel I was never, ever supposed to link to and started speaking. “This is Myrmidon 112-Delta I have attackers at the Med Center. Emergency team is not responding, I repeat, not responding! I have at five bad guys down, at least three more in the building. They’re myrmidons, early-gen myrmidons! Control please respond!”
“Sorry, honey, I don’t think control’s listening right about now.” The voice was female, and sounded familiar.
“Who the hell is this?” I was snarling as I began stalking to the control Area. I stopped long enough to close the doors and crush the locking mechanism shut. The gruesomes were in a near-panic, but unless someone was willing to cut through the doors to get them, they would be safe.
I started walking towards the security area, ignoring the sporadic, panicked employees who were rushing about like chickens with their heads cut off. They were running for the doors. I ran into the security area as a throaty laugh came over the comms.
“Oh an old friend. Tell you what Mikey boy I was absolutely thrilled when I heard you were going to be here, love. It just makes things so much more interesting.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard that before, right before the girl told me she was pregnant.” I tore open the doors to the security area, and stepped into hell.
The security team on site was very brutally, messily dead. It had to be a nanite weapon. Normal people don’t melt into slime-drenched skeletons around a card table, with credsticks in the open. Normal people don’t become pools of gelatinous biomass unfit for even a spider to consume. I’d seen what happens when a nanoshredder hits someone before today and I never wanted to again. The results were repulsive beyond all belief. Eight piles of gore around myriad metal cyber-implants and two dissolved masses in Fury armor gave testament to what happened to the team in charge of the safety of the Center. They hadn’t even had time to go for their weapons.
My guts heaved, I felt bile rise in my throat and I choked down the spate of absolute, bitter rage as I marked the name tags on the myrmidon uniforms. Morris. Branston. McClellan. Tylers. Dietz. Sandoval. Ziewalt. Kiehl. My squad I’d been working with lay dead in a pool of their own ruined bodies. I didn’t dare look closely at the two dead furies. I was too afraid I would find the Apocalypse Twins. My best friends besides Jake, the ones who went out of their way to make my exile to Limbo less hellish lay dead in quite possibly the most gruesome fashion I can imagine.
“You fucking bitch, I’m gonna KILL YOU!” I was screaming mad when I cracked open the weapons lockers, searching. What I found and took was on the list marked: DO NOT OPERATE WITHOUT AUTHORIZATION FROM INFAX. I took the fucker anyway. Even if I couldn’t talk to INFAX, or Control, my people were dead. I had five dead gruesomes and God only knew how many of the helpless newbies would live if I didn’t do something.
I patched up the bullet holes with the medical kit by hitting them with a slap-patch, thankful that my arteries were protected, otherwise this would have been a really short fight. The screaming and loud gunfire began in the lobby as I was heading to the door. I prayed I was wrong as I opened it.
The employees were evacuating the building. Well, they tried to. The attackers waited until they reached maximum density at the doors leading out and opened fire. Screaming THEMIS employess started falling like flies as the three remaining Myrmidons opened fire with their Personal Assault Systems, combat rifles well-suited to the task. I about shit an explosive brick on the spot, nearly forgetting to run the targeting controls on the toy I was carrying to my neural jack.
I waited the three seconds as the power system on the four-foot long weapon came Online, stepped around the corner and put the crosshairs of my cybereye on the first Myrmidon woman firing.
The woman literally exploded to the tune of a shrieking bang, the liquefied pieces of her body and cyberware flying backward to stick to a wall behind her as the Personal Rail Cannon drove a piece of metal the size of a pea through her chest at about mach fifteen. They stopped firing, staring down at me in disbelief as I tracked on the male of the trio and turned his sorry ass into a pink mist and bits of ruined cyberware decorating most of the lobby. The last woman turned to run as I shot her through the back, ending her life in a brief cloud of red.
My ears dampened the hellish noise enough to keep me upright, but the shock and sound had been far too much for the poor bastards trying to flee the lobby. They were all more or less unconscious, and most of their ears were bleeding. Better that than the alternative.
“Who’s thrilled to see me now, bitch?” I growled maliciously as I tracked the lobby for more targets.
“I am, actually, Mikey. Now I don’t have to pay any of those fools! Thanks for doing such a thorough job. I didn’t realize I could count on you.” That smug bitch’s voice was rather gleeful. “Don’t worry Mikey, you’ve won. I’ll be taking my leave shortly. I’m almost done anyway.”
I snarled and walked over to my desk and accessed Millie and Bryce’s net by jacking into the second port behind my ear, above the old one and ran a sensor trace. Millie and Bryce didn’t respond to queries. I swore when I realized what this bitch must be after.
Six seconds later I had a solid download of the full layout of the medical center down to the last millimeter. Some hasty extrapolation and locking later I let my control rig responsible for regulating all the cybernetics in my body aim the next shot, relaxing and allowing my body to pivot and aim at a point along one wall. As I settled, I pulled the trigger, blasting a hole through the wall, through three offices and straight into the hardened vault where the main computers were. I saw each of the icons for the computers go offline as I was dumped from the building net, and for all intents and purposes THEMIS Medical Center ceased to exist to the INFAX data network. If that didn’t bring a horde of screaming Myrmidons and Erinyes shrieking to the site I didn’t know what would.
The scream of rage and pain coming over the comm was music to my ears, although it meant I’d missed the mysterious woman who was beginning to seriously piss me off. Still, it couldn’t have been fun to be that close to a rail strike. The building went dark, and emergency transmitters shrieked to life, fulfilling their programming and keeping the nanites and life support systems for the gruesomes and Erinyes tank-babies running properly so they wouldn’t die.
“How’s the pressure bitch? No data stealing for you.” I made the ultimate mistake of charging into the hallway towards the computer mainframes. To my credit, there is no way in hell I could have expected what I got.
Tracking. WARNING! Incoming…
I had precisely one second from the time I saw the glistening, black-clad form ricocheting off the walls and bounding towards me at speeds I could barely track. Three rail gun shots flew down the hallway, and not a damned one connected. Not even the horrific overpressure was enough to even slow down the Erinys who was coming at me with intent to kill. Even if she was as fucked up as I was, I was screwed.
On attack…
I had a split-second to reflect on the fact that this was, quite possibly, the worst possible thing that could happen to me. The slick, shiny, black form hit me in the chest feet-first with enough force to drive me back, while grabbing the thin cord running from the PRC to my head and leapt away with a yank that made me shriek in agony from feedback as the connection terminated abruptly and painfully.
Angle.
She hit me at least six times while I was stumbling around like a drunk, driving her knuckles, heels and toes into various tender parts of my body. Not everything was armored, and I have yet to meet an Erinys who couldn’t beat down even a Myrmidon heavy in hand-to-hand unless the Mym got lucky and caught a grip on her. Easier said than done, and that it had been done before was still unconfirmed apocrypha amongst the current generation of THEMIS combat troops.
I recovered my wits in time to discover the joy of having my nuts kicked by a woman capable of throwing a manhole cover like a frisbee three times. While my eyes crossed and a high pitched whine began to leave my throat, I felt a jab to my throat as even that sound was cut off. I tried to hit her, I really did, but she simply danced and weaved around the wild swings like a fast child avoiding an angry fat kid. The kicks to the kidneys cinched it and I went to my knees while my spinal control unit shrieked warnings into my ears and a scrolling list of damage poured down my cybereye’s vision. I couldn’t even muster the concentration to turn that shit off.
Warning! Pain Suppressor overloading.
My head jerked back, and I felt a light touch as a woman’s finger traced my jaw and cheek. “Mikey you always were the best ride I ever had.”
I screamed as the hand came pack and I felt something pierce my left eye, the one I had been born with, and pain exploded in my head well beyond what any human, even one as tough as I had been built, was able to cope with. As I lost consciousness, the words that would haunt me for the rest of my life scrolled across my vision in the cybernetic eye I had remaining.
New nanites detected. Downloading Dragon-Blood control protocols.
* * *
The recording on the flat screen ended as the INFAX Board of Directors looked down at the veritable horde of Myrmidons and Erinyes wearing everything ranging from business suits to sun-dresses, and terrifyingly enough they were all on their best behavior. Not one snide comment or wiseass quip escaped their lips while the board met in a public forum for a shareholder meeting. There was no sign whatsoever of weaponry or body armor among the assembled, though in this forum they hardly needed it. To those in the know, the sight of Ayumi and Evangeline sitting next to one another with nary a hostile glance was enough to know that something was afoot. And that something was named Mike Holtman.
Diana Davenport, the supervisor of the New York office for THEMIS stood before the board while the presentation ended. “As you can see, the sensor data from the THEMIS Medical Center in Highland Park is choppy, fragmented and distorted at best. As near as we can tell, three nights ago, the center was attacked during shift change for the static desk security personnel. The security officers were Michael Holtman and Miranda Hossman. Hossman was coming on-shift; Holtman was going off-shift.”
She turned to the inert display showing a grainy, blurred image of a crouched, helmeted figure next to one of the medical center mainframes. “The lead intruder appears to have been accessing mainframe 2, the one where the technical data specs for the Dragon-Blood process and the gen-three Myrmidon specs are contained. We have no reason to believe the intruders were after the gen-four or five Myrmidons, as they incorporate technical advances unique to THEMIS, and aren’t easily replicated.”
The image flashed briefly as the mainframes literally exploded in a line, throwing the intruder across the room and into a wall. “This is the point where THEMIS Medical Center went offline and we received any indication that something was wrong. Mike Holtman, the Myrmidon who was serving out the remainder of his contract for violations in the field,” she made a face of distaste, whether at the thought of the violation or her opinion of that assessment she gave no indication, “killed the attackers and blew the mainframe using a Personal Rail Cannon inside the center without authorization when he figured out where the intruder was.”
She held up a data disc. “This is the data we pulled from Holtman’s cybernetic controller before it went offline. With that data we have been able to extrapolate the probable identity of the lead attacker that took him out.” A picture appeared on the viewer, showing a sweet, girl-next door face with golden blonde hair and deep sky blue eyes. Her heart-shaped face was that of a professional heartbreaker, a sweet, innocent thing that begged to be protected.
A murmer of rage passed through the assembled Myrmidons and Erinyes as Daisy “Kudzu” Wentworth’s visage was recognized. Quite possibly the most hated Erinys in THEMIS history, the woman was responsible for over two hundred homicides, including one of her own Erinys “sisters.” The slippery woman was the mistress of backstabbing, and had escaped custody after she had been brought in after being beaten within an inch of her life.
“Daisy Wentworth’s voice patterns were recognized by our software once Holtman cracked the encrypts by stealing the ‘crypt chip from a dead attacker. She’s back, and she was after the medical data. Holtman managed to prevent that loss.”
“What was the total loss at the medical center?” The question came from one of the front seats of the INFAX board section of the auditorium.
Diana didn’t even hesitate. “Fourteen million NuBucks in physical damage, most of which came from the destruction of the mainframes, though we’ve gone over the projections. If they hadn’t been destroyed we would stand to lose more in the THEMIS edge in biological and cybernetic upgrade processes. The more telling losses were in terms of loss of life. Five myrmidons undergoing augmentation were executed while they were helpless, the other thirty-two are still alive. The attackers were preparing to kill all fourteen Erinyes converts in the tanks, and very likely the fifteenth undergoing the preparations for placement in the tanks. The killings there were interrupted. The Security team Consisting of eight Light Plate troops, and two Erinyes were killed using a nanoshredder grenade. Then the attackers killed eighteen of our regular personnel and twenty-three more are wounded, including the ones undergoing treatment for hearing loss from rail gun fire inside the building.”
“As a further note, both of the Electronics security personnel responsible for handling the net, and one Nanotechnician are currently missing and presumed kidnapped. The Medical Center Director was found in his apartment dead, looks like the same kind of nanoshredders were used to kill him and his wife as were used in the attack.”
The INFAX board decided commenting on the monetary damages due to the lives lost and medical compensations being handed out was unwise, given the three hundred Myrmidons and Erinyes sitting in the auditorium.
“What is the disposition of the security guard who fought this attack down?” The chairwoman of the board leaned forward. “I am led to believe that this man was considered a problem before, and now he has cost us a significant amount in monetary damages.”
Diana managed to not glare at the woman, instead following the well-choreographed dance to its finish. “Michael Raymond Holtman, and his partner, Jacob Dodson are typical examples of the type of candidates accepted into the Myrmidon Heavy program. Dependable, disciplined, destructive personalities abound, and the one common trait we look for psychologically is loyalty. These men and women tend to be ferociously loyal to friends and their fellow troops. We choose them because they are the types who are unwilling to abandon their fellow myrmidons, and by proxy, the Erinyes in the field.”
“Michael Holtman is representative of the fact that we have had problems with the Heavies like this at least twice a year. Nothing so spectacular as the supermall incident, admittedly, but problems invariably crop up when the heavies are ordered to abandon still-living personnel in the field. Holtman and Dodson were merely the most violent in their response. What Holtman lacks in fiscal responsibility, he makes up for in loyalty to his fellow Myrmidons. People like them may be problematic, but they are good for morale among the troops. For example, I imagine there will be quite a few Myrmidons and Erinyes who come out of the conversion process thinking he’s their bloody hero.”
“Why is that Miss Davenport?”
Diana gave a tight-lipped smile at the Board members present. “Mike Holtman’s tactical data recording show that his first action was to assault and kill the ones who were trying to kill the converts. Once he’d secured them he moved on to security, discovered the team there was dead and then neutralized the other attackers besides Daisy when they began attacking our civilian personnel.”
‘Where is this myrmidon?” The chairwoman asked. “Why is he not here to answer questions about what happened?”
Diana gave a tight-lipped smile. “Michael Holtman is in critical condition in the medical center having his augments stripped to keep him from dying. Wentworth injected him with the Dragon-Blood stage one nanites. We believe her secondary objective was to target the Myrmidon team for death and Holtman especially, since they were the team that caught her and dragged her in. He was the one who put the pieces together and convinced the others that she was pulling black bag ops on the side involving those murders that occurred last year and the previous three years running.”
“Shouldn’t that be impossible? Nanites are regulated. They should not have gone active.”
“Agreed, ma’am.” Diana nodded. “Wentworth did her homework on this one. There is a scenario under which the Dragon-Blood nanites could be used as a weapon. That scenario was considered such low-order probability that it wasn’t worth worrying about. When Mike blew the mainframes to prevent her from stealing the information, he disabled the control units designated to regulate the process. The secondaries went online, simple transmitters meant to detect what phase the nanites are in and continue the process. Wentworth could have personally killed Holtman at any stage of the attack. She waited until after the primary controls were dead, the secondaries were hot and then injected Holtman with the nanites through his eye, deliberately destroying it like she took the other eye before.”
Diana looked at the Chairwoman with a tight-lipped smile. “Michael Holtman’s cybernetics detected new nanites and automatically downloaded the control protocols because the mainframe wasn’t online to automatically disable them. We discovered this last night when his bones’ ferro-ceramic sheathing began coming apart. He’s already well into the first stage. Unless steps are taken we expect him to die in two weeks without immediate action. We have a four day window while his cybernetics are being removed to decide whether or not to continue on to stage two and three of the process. Without that Holtman will die, and there is nothing, no medication we can use to dampen the pain completely. Wentworth took one of our myrmidons and guaranteed he would be effectively tortured to death because he blew the lid on her little murder incorporated scheme. Because Mike went unconscious from the damage he’d sustained he was unable to override the whole thing.”
“Four day window?”
“I have a signed statement by every Myrmidon and Erinys in the New York area requesting a one-time re-evaluation of the Euryale project with the intent of saving the life of Michael Holtman and returning him to duty.”
“Why the Euryale project? That program was determined to be a dead end.”
“Ma’am I’ve already had one of my best numbers agents look at it. The cost using gen-five Myrmidon upgrades would be the equivalent of building a Myrmidon heavy.”
The Chairwoman frowned. “Why Gen-Five?”
“We looked at it Ma’am, the Gen Five interface and mynomer are the only systems that come close to being able to interface and operate at Erinys speed levels. And we believe it would be easier for him to learn to cope with the alterations than a full bio-rebuild which we estimate would take optimally take two years, and about three times the cost. Holtman’s about sixty percent cyber-augmented, and that means he’s missing a lot of the original parts.”
“Very well, the board will require a more full briefing on the events at the Medical Center tomorrow afternoon. We will adjourn and determine the final disposition of Holtman within two days, after a thorough evaluation of the information.”
“Oh, one last thing, Madame Chairman.”
“Yes, Miss Davenport?”
“I would like permission to evaluate the possibility of rehabilitating Jacob Dodson as an employee of THEMIS, and determining where best we could use his talents. Quite bluntly, ma’am, as I said before men like Dodson and Holtman are good for morale.”
The chairwoman smiled tightly, without good humor as she nodded and left with the rest of the Board. It wasn’t stated, it wasn’t obvious, and it would never be commented upon, but the presence of three hundred of THEMIS’ biological and cyber-augmented combat troops and investigators at the meeting was nothing short of silent blackmail. The message was clear, the Myrmidons and Erinyes would only accept one verdict, and none of the Board was willing to find out what the lot of them would do if they said no.
* * *
Diana didn’t wait for the decision before she intercepted Vangie at the front door. “Hold it right there.”
The dark-haired, unblinking woman froze among the throng of Erinyes and Myrmidons leaving the building.
Vangie looked at her boss curiously. “Uh, did I do something wrong?” The woman ran through a mental catalogue of things she had done, hadn’t done, trying to figure out if any of those had gotten her boss’ attention.
“No. I need you to do something. Get your little coterie of hellions together and get down to the Med Center. You have three days to come up with a body and appearance for Mike that will hopefully not result in him walking into a closet with a gun and a bullet. You three know Mike the best, so you all have the best shot at coming up with something that he’ll be able to live with without going insane.”
Vangie winced. “I know Mike well enough to know that he’s not going to take waking up female well.”
“That’s a given, Evangeline. But, if you lot cook up something he might take it better because you’re his friends. You won’t let them simply slap the standard template on him and kick him out the door. Somehow I doubt Mike will take well to having double-D’s when the tech weenies get done.”
“Okay. One caveat. I’m bringing Dodson in on this, and it’s not negotiable. He knows enough about Mike to veto any body that might cause a thermonuclear reaction.”
Diana nodded. “Why are you still here?”
* * *
On the second day of deliberations, word came back that Mike had been approved for the Euryale program. That didn’t help the disposition of Jake, Vangie and Chai as they went over yet another stack of rejected body types that Jake had pulled his veto on. The pile was getting thick when Kaitlyn finally dragged herself into the room; having navigated the hastily cleaned up, if not fully repaired Med Center.
The redheaded Valkyrie woman brought in a large bag of food she’d appropriated from the cafeteria as she settled in to meet the glares of the three people she should have been helping the day before. “What?” The question was fielded in the vapid innocence which she was known to show when she was being given the third degree for excessive force in investigations.
“You are aware we called you yesterday to come help figure out what body we were going to inflict upon Mike, right?” Vangie fixed her with an unblinking glare.
She nodded. “I know. I figured I’d give you a day or so to hammer certain things out of your systems. Besides, no one actually expects me to contribute anything meaningful here.”
Chai grimaced at the accusation, but none of the three argued the point. The notorious Boom-Boom wasn’t known for her overabundance of wisdom and insight. All in all it was almost a relief to not have her visions of Valkyries with large breasts gumming up the works.
“Mind if I take a look at the reject pile? I’d like to see what you all have so I don’t wind up going over old ground.”
“Have at,” Jake said sullenly. “I haven’t had much insight into this either. I keep locking up on the idea of Mike becoming female, and don’t really have a whole lot to say.” He rolled his wheelchair over to her and handed a decent pile. Kaitlyn smirked when she saw the auto-shotgun strapped just under his armrest.
Kaitlyn nodded as Chai and Vangie went over the latest design they were cooking up. She smirked at the body models they were working off of. She had to keep from laughing as she recognized Evangeline’s penchant for classic movie starlet looks, a few of whom she actually recognized. She detected Chai’s handiwork in most of the non-Caucasian bodies put forth. Chai and Vangie had very definite ideas on what made for a good body.
While the two nattered on about pertinent details, Kaitlin occupied herself by crumpling up each idea one by one and banking them off the walls into the waste bin, more or less suppressing chuckles. She managed to look bored enough that the other two finally looked at her in annoyance.
“Do you have anything constructive to add, or are you just going to sit there and do nothing?” Vangie was annoyed, and Jake shook his head and sighed.
The red-haired queen of explosions shrugged and looked at the three of them diffidently. “I don’t know, do you actually want my input? “ She crumpled up another description that was more playboy centerfold materiel than even Kaitlyn would have liked. Most Erinyes drew the line at looking completely vapid.
“I suppose at this point it couldn’t hurt. It’s not like we have been getting anywhere here.” Chai’s voice was grudging, as was Vangie’s slow nod.
“So what’s on your mind, Boom-Boom? I know you and Mike had a thing going, so what can you add to the pile?” Jake looked at the pile of rejects in front of him with disgust.
“So why did you reject all of these?”
“I dunno, they felt off. I can’t really put it better than that.”
“Any ones that might be salvageable?”
Chai picked up a tiny handful of appearance profiles from the table and slid them over. “Just these, but Jake’s iffy on them.”
Kaitlyn nodded solemnly as she perused the new offerings. It was impossible for the other three not to envision her thought process as akin to a hamster running on an exercise wheel, fast but going nowhere. Two of the eight pages struck her as something that might not provoke an immediate reaction from her off-and-on provider of housing, decent food and personal entertainment.
“Okay. Do you all mind if we start from zero here? We can hammer some stuff out, but bear with me.” She set the maybes down, face down and looked at the three. Jake looked curious, and Chai and Vangie had dubious expressions of whether or not she could provide useful input. “Ok first off, before we begin let’s set in a few limits. I’m not sure if you all did this before, and were just working out of ideas as they came or what.”
The three nodded, and let her speak again. “First off is her height. Don’t screw with it. Mike’s about as tall as I am, so let’s keep him there. The frame will have to be adjusted to a more feminine form, granted but I think Mike will react slightly better if he doesn’t have to look up at everything like a child.”
“Hey! What’s wrong with not being oversized?” Chai looked mildly annoyed.
“Nothing, if you were born that way or wanted to be that way.” Kaitlyn gave her first shocker by showing some modicum of tact. “Let’s face it. Mike’s a guy who was pretty comfy being a guy. To an extent, no matter what we do he’s going to hate it. We just need to think of getting him a look that won’t freak him too badly in the short term, and he can get used to in the long term. If we can avoid changing something too drastically, let’s not.”
Jason nodded slowly. “All right, she has a point. I keep trying to think of what kind of body Mike would like, as opposed to what kind he’d scream the least about being stuck with. That might be why this all isn’t clicking.”
“All right, Kaitlyn, you have my attention.” Vangie decided not to admit her shock that Kaitlyn had shown anything resembling common sense, even if she and Chai had figured out that angle already. She had honestly been expecting to have to explain it to Kait.
“Face, we have a bit of play room with as well as body type, since there is no really good answer. But what we can do is try to take what we know about Mike and give him something that even if he’s not thrilled about it, can get used to in the long term. This means no supernatural hotties, and no dogfaces, or wildly plain Jane.”
“I would think Mike would be more comfortable being more on the plain side.” Chai looked quizzical.
“Yeah, that’s true, at first. But mike’s the kind of guy who always took pride in his appearance. It’s why even when he was looking scruffy, it was a good scruffy. We should probably give him a pretty face, maybe edging on natural beauty, but I emphasize natural, with all the imperfections that make her look more like a real person to him and less like a sex toy.”
“She’s right,” Jake sighed. “If Mike can cope he’s not going to thank us for making him ugly or a wallflower for which there isn’t any real recovery, mentally.”
Vangie actually blinked, for once. “Okay, so that gives us a bit of wiggle room. If we were going on that bent, we should make him tall as he started, possibly with a more smooth and athletic build. Gymnast build? Almost nonexistent breasts?”
Jake grimaced as Kait shook her head. “No on the tiny tits, but a definite yes on the athletic build Vangie but more with a bit of definite muscle tone. I’d suggest enough breast to get across that yes, she’s attractive and female, but not so much that she couldn’t hide them under baggy clothing or even tape ‘em down if she’s feeling really freaked. Good figure, but again, something she can cover if she wants to, and believe me, she’ll want to.”
“So why even bother with them if they will freak her out?” Chai knew the answer already, but she needed to hear it.
“This is Mike. I’ve seen how she copes. If you let her she ignores the problem and just trucks on until he finds something she can’t deal with. We can only insulate her so much, and if we make her look like something that lets her forget she’s female for a bit how the hell is she going to react when she gets aroused? God forbid what’s going to happen when she starts having a period? We do get those after all.”
Jake slowly caught on. “If he’s forced to be aware that he’s female and can’t just blow it off until a freak-out. He‘ll be forced to cope rather than letting himself get blindsided.”
“All right, that makes sense.” Vangie looked at Kait and Jake. “So we’re going to want him to be cope-with-it female but not so that he pushes his own buttons.”
Kaitlyn nodded as Chai cut in. “So we should avoid hitting him with anything that looks like us?”
Kaitlyn wiggled her hand as though it was on a seesaw. “Yes and no. Obviously she’s not going to have our own sense of ‘make me wildly female, by god!’ By the same token, we can’t insulate. So let’s make her beautiful in her own way, but in that way that says natural born rather than designed. That way if she wants to avoid attention, even if she is hot, she could duck behind another Erinys and not stand out above the local lookers.”
“Okay, we can work with this,” Jake said. “Let’s start with the height and build.” He scribbled something down, and then loaded it into the image viewer.
Kait scrutinized the image briefly, before tweaking it slightly, making the breasts a bit fuller, if slightly smaller than what Jake had dialed in. “What do you all think?”
Chai and Vangie blinked as they began to follow Kaitlyn’s simple logic, finally remembering that even though Jake was Mike’s best friend, Kaitlyn had been involved with Mike off and on, and she probably knew exactly what pushed the man’s buttons, because from Jake’s looks of wary approval, she was avoiding as many of them as she possibly could.
“Okay,” Chai began, “let’s do the face. It’s going to be the first thing she sees in a mirror, and it’s going to be the hardest to get without a screaming fit.”
“Eyes first,” Vangie suggested, “maybe a steel gray color?”
Kaitlyn shrugged. “Hazel.”
“Any particular reason?” Jake asked.
“What are the eye colors of most of Mike’s girlfriends?” Chai asked thoughtfully.
Jake looked at Chai and blinked. “Blue, grayish, and green were the ones I’d seen.”
“Wait, no Gray eyes because they’d provoke a ‘potential girlfriend’ reaction?” Vangie looked confused as Jake nodded slowly again from his wheelchair. “I would have thought it would come off as less feminine.”
Kaitlyn smiled and leaned back in her chair. “Hazel,” she repeated with a knowing smirk.
“Kait, why do you keep calling mike ‘she?” Jake looked at her quizzically.
Chai blinked. “Because she’s already started the process.”
Vangie sighed before speaking softly. “This is surreal. I can’t believe that’s Mike in there.”
“Much as I hate it, we have to get used to Mike being one of the sisters.” Kaitlyn made a sour face. “I hate this, but all we can do is help Mike try to cope.”
Although there was much debate, and more than a few frustrated moments, the four managed to put together a face and body over the next several hours, and finish off the new appearance by the end of the next day. Kaitlyn won the argument over the eyes.
* * *
Four nights later…
“Careful, careful you fucking moron! We can’t let this one get bumped around, he’s got almost no body mass left!” The technician snarled at his partner. “You fart wrong and he’ll fall apart, dammit. We need to carefully, very carefully get this one into the tank without injuring him. The nanites will have to finish the deconstruction on the ferro-ceramics in the gel.”
“Why are they starting the phase two already?” His partner looked at the pathetic mass of bone and skin, looking like a twisted nightmare of skin and sticks dangling from the harness as they applied the breath mask. “Those bones will take another week to attain the proper elasticity.”
“They’re programming this one for a slow shift. Poor bastard’s going to be under for a long time. Those cybernetics that got pulled dicked up the equation something fierce.”
The first tech sighed as the pathetic thing was lowered gently into the gel. “All right, gently, gently, stop. We have proper suspension. Seal the tank and have the cleaners sweep the gel for contamination before we get started.” He looked over as his partner performed the task. The harness actually began to dissolve and vanish as the microscopic robots released into the tank began systematically destroying and removing any contaminant they could find that weren’t the poor human hanging in the gel, the mask running to the oxygen supply, or the nanites busily deconstructing the skeleton of the man hanging inside.
“I can’t believe that’s Mike, man. This just doesn’t feel right. He’s going to be semi-conscious through this, and it’s going to take a couple extra weeks.”
“All right, cleaners are green. Begin the DMSO flood.”
“Yeah, you got it.” The second tech punched in the codes to release the chemical in question into the sealed tank, allowing things such as drugs, nanites and nutrients the body needed to survive to be absorbed directly by the skin. It also allowed the nanites inside the body to begin carrying waste and things they cleaned out the same way. Within minutes the gel surrounding the body was surrounded with a pale, glittering cloud as the ceramic-titanium bone reinforcements were slowly ejected from the skin, layer by layer, molecule by molecule in a process that was never meant to handle this sort of thing.
“I’ll be honest, I was expecting INFAX to write him off and order us to salvage the parts off him.” The first tech shook his head. “You don’t even want to know what it’s going to cost to fix this guy.”
“Yeah right man, you tell the Myms and Furies no on this one. I’ll stand over here.”
The first tech gave a barking laugh. “My ass. I’m not telling those crazies anything. Word on the street is this is going to cost at least another four hundred thousand, and he’s still got a bit under three hundred thou on his old debt still.”
The second tech winced. “Think they’ll stick him with the debt for this?”
“Again with the Myms and Furies and the telling them. I have a funny feeling INFAX is going to write this one off as a necessary expense. This stone-cold nutcase is way too important to them.”
“Why is that? I never quite got why a guy like this could have the loyalty of all the buggers.”
“He doesn’t.” The first tech shook his head. “Hell more than a few of them think he’s worth about as much as a used sheet of toilet paper. They care because this guy’s proven that their lives are worth more to him than anything. You can’t buy that kind of loyalty, man.”
The other tech nodded. “All right, the protocols are set. Once our boy here marinates for a bit, the reformation process will begin. I feel sorry for him; this shit’s agonizing and they say you can feel it the whole time even in the coma. And do you know what the worst part is?”
“He’s the only one here who never wanted this?”
“Yeah. I really hope we’re doing right by him man, this feels wrong.”
“Better than letting him die the way that bitch Kudzu wanted him to.”
“Yeah. Even so, this is just foul. I’m gonna need a few beers to get to sleep tonight after seeing this.”
“I think I’ll join you for that.”
The two technicians packed up and left after the tank sealed, leaving the maimed and broken man to his fate. Mike hung, suspended in the green fluid, on display in the horror of the wax museum showcasing the transforming Erinyes. Most of the muscle mass had been removed to make room for the Mynomer bundles that replaced them. Now those bundles were removed, along with every piece of wired cybernetics and metal they could find in him. Even the fillings of his teeth had to be removed in order to allow the process to run unimpeded. All that remained was for the nanites to finish stripping the fused bone reinforcements so that body could be reformed, then re-hardened.
No one who entered the room could look at the sightless, skeletal thing hanging in the gel for long. The skin hanging from bones that had been stripped like a side of beef at a meat market gave a gruesome testament to just how much of his body had been replaced, internally. The most disturbing thing was the eyes, or the lack. He just had two sockets, half-concealed by lids that didn’t close fully. The technicians, doctors, and well-wishers had to leave shortly after they arrived. Rather like Mike’s opinion of the Erinyes percolating in the adjacent tanks, no one liked seeing him naked on display, stripped of dignity, barely looking human. It was probably better that he could not see, so he didn’t wake to see his friends looking in, horrified, biting back tears during the brief instants of consciousness.
* * *
I don’t know how to describe it, the feeling of floating nowhere, the darkness, wondering if you are asleep or awake, alive or dead, deprived of sensory input that held meaning save for the searing agony that was felt fully but never quite there. I don’t remember the dreams, but I remember the pain. I don’t know if I ever woke up, really. I couldn’t see, couldn’t hear. All I could do was feel, and I’m not sure how much of that I actually did. I’d heard that being placed into a medical coma screws with you but I’d never even contemplated the reality.
There is no way I know how to describe the pain, that excruciating, throbbing ache any more than I can explain why a brain all but shut down save for autonomic functions can feel pain and remember it. The current pop medical theory is that it’s a phantom, a reflection of what would have been a memory, trying to resurface, seeming to stretch on forever in the brief moments it takes for the mind to fully reawaken. I don’t know, all I know is that I experienced an eternity in the tank, and it’s hard for me to remember, but I can still feel it. Now I know why the Erinyes can’t talk about the experience, simply moving on and thankful they weren’t driven mad from the experience like so many of their sisters over the years.
Actually waking up, or at least I think it was waking up, was pure hell. My entire body was shrieking in agony as the soft sheets rubbed against skin unaccustomed to stimulation. I tried to talk, scream, speak, see, move. Nothing worked. All I could do was feel weight as my body was settled on a cushion, covered in some kind of linen. I felt like a puppet with its strings cut.
When you can’t see or hear, and the only thing you can smell is hospital cleaning agents, it’s very hard to tell how time passes. It’s even more so when you can’t muster the strength to reach up and pinch yourself to see if you are awake or not. Unfortunately during the few times I was awake and knowing it for sure, I wished I wasn’t. Periods of frustration and boredom were the norm, and the infrequent visits by someone who liked to manhandle me with a wet sponge was terrifying, made worse by the fact hat I was helpless to fight back against anything they chose to do to me.
By the time the pain began again I was thoroughly confused, scared and pretty incoherent of thought. I had come to recognize the empty-socket feeling of my lack of eyes, especially when the docs came to clean them out on occasion. I’m told the wailing shrieks actually unnerved more than a few myrmidons going through augmentation. I wasn’t even able to hear it. The cybernetics rebuilding my inner ear had been pulled. My world was a rush of boredom and sensation all in one, with pricks and pokes, and one terrifying moment when I realized someone had completely wrapped their hand around where a bicep should have been, touching thumb and fingertips together with room to spare.
There were few comforts, though I remember hands in mine, squeezing comfortingly. I remember fingers pushing the unruly mop of hair back away from my face, and gentle hugs, with cheeks pressed to mine. I think that was probably what kept my sanity when the familiar pain of augmentation began anew. I’d say that it hurt, but the fever-dream of agony that I can still feel made this seem like a friendly slap-fight by comparison.
I wasn’t aware of how long I was down and out, but the slow, ever-growing sensation of having my skin and flesh packed tight like a plushie being stuffed, as I struggled to remember what that was. I was able to remember the sensation of having the Mynomer fiber-bundles packed into places my muscles had once occupied. I relived the pain of having a portion of my skull excised and fused to a neural jack. I felt the searing agony as the control interfaces were fused to my spine. I felt that and more, both familiar and unfamiliar as I was rebuilt into something feeling more familiar, yet alien at the same time. I couldn’t remember what I was supposed to feel like.
It wasn’t until after my unseen tormentors did something to make my empty eyes and ears feel packed to bursting that I fully realized what was happening. I was being put back together. They were repacking all the cybernetics into my body, though I couldn’t figure out why they had been removed in the first place. I should have been deathly afraid of what I knew was coming after that, but I wasn’t. After the pain before, getting hurt probably would never worry me again.
My first clue that I would be waking up to the world in full form was when lightning struck my spine and raced to the back of my head, a flash of brief agony that ripped through my entire body immediately after. Muscles I was unused to having spasmed as the mynomer bundles tried to contract all at once, an action that would have torn a normal human body apart. The Ferro-ceramic bone sheathing and impregnation kept me from becoming a modern art masterpiece on the spot. There are few sensations quite as painful.
Suddenly I felt everything I touched in a way I never had before. I could feel the individual fibers of the sheets under and above me along my skin, and it was the most eerie thing to have your tactile acumen suddenly jump through the roof. It was when my cybernetic ears and eyes came on that I learned the true definition of sensory overload.
Everything was suddenly too loud, to bright, too fast. I heard myself scream and twitch, trying to escape the sudden surge of sensory input I hadn’t dealt with in a long time. The scream hurt too. Even clamping my eyes closed I couldn’t escape the flood of input and sensations as I could hear every breath, every step, every incomprehensible word, and the cybereyes flashed streams of data that I couldn’t comprehend as it scrolled and blinked in and out far too quickly for me to see and try to decipher. Not that I was in any mental condition to comprehend what I was seeing.
I tried to move my arms, my legs, and my body, winding up simply jerking as though I was having a seizure, unaccustomed to controlling my once helpless and inert body. In my sensory induced panic I didn’t feel the three pairs of hands grip mine and hold me comfortingly. When I calmed down, the first things I became aware of were three voices speaking words that meant nothing to me. Soft voices were too loud, and far too much light filtered in through my eyelids as I felt every contour of their skin touching mine. As I started concentrating on one thing I started being able to understand what I was seeing and feeling.
“All right, everything’s online, but be gentle. She’s got a long way to go before she can move around.” The voice was unfamiliar, but for the first time I could filter out a sentence and comprehend what was being said.
“Hey Mike, how are you feeling, honey?” I recognized that voice, and that soft hand rubbing my forehead. I cracked my eyes open and saw red, literally lots of red, as I processed the face and mass of wild hair I was seeing.
Identifying... Kaitlyn Marksbury, AKA Boom-Boom. File to follow...
I groaned as the familiar, yet painful use of my optic nerves commenced, and I had a wash of vertigo as my brain tried to process all the senses at once. I started heaving for a second as the mad Valkyrie’s face screwed up in concern.
I opened my eyes again and forced myself to take a deep breath. As moved my eyes back and forth, I tracked on two faces familiar as though they’d been born of a fever dream. Vangie’s unblinking stare and Chai’s sweet, unassuming face met my gaze as I tried to smile. There was a man in a myrmidon uniform standing tall and proud at the foot of the bed. I succeeded at smiling as I recognized Jake’s bulky, tanklike form. Then it hit me. Jake was standing.
“Mike can you hear me?” Kaitlyn’s voice was still too bloody loud, but I was too happy to see four of my good friends alive and well.
I blinked. Alive. I remembered the screaming battle, the violence of the deaths in the security room, and the black-clad Erinys beating the hell out of me before stabbing my eye. As it began to filter into my mind what the hell I was feeling from my body I remembered the last thing I’d seen burned into my optic nerve. My cybernetics had downloaded the Dragon-Blood control programs. I knew what I was feeling, but I didn’t want to acknowledge it, even as my eyes flickered down to see the shape under the covers. I didn’t want to acknowledge the unruly mass of hair I felt behind my head.
I must have given Jake a somewhat panicked look, because he got a solemn look and simply nodded at me. I don’t know what the hell ran through me I just started crying, unable to find words. I didn’t want to be a woman. I didn’t want to be one of the Erinyes. I just let myself cry, while my friends who had shown up to see me wake tried to comfort me.
“What happened?” I finally managed to rasp the words out an hour later once I’d cried my eyes out, helplessly and then concentrated my efforts into relearning how to use my vocal chords. I wasn’t liking this situation by any stretch.
Vangie spoke first, “Wentworth happened. She deliberately set you up to die from the stage one nanites, Mike.”
It took me a moment to process that information. First I had to try to remember what the hell nanites were, then remember where I’d heard the name Wentworth. “Kudzu.” My voice was a bit clearer, and it didn’t sound like me, too high and soft, with none of my accustomed hardass growl.
Daisy “Kudzu” Wentworth held a special place in my heart, where I kept my list of people who needed to die in screaming agony. I remembered the sweet, southern belle looks and her girl next door charm lit behind those baby blue eyes. She looked like a literal angel, but had a personality born in the ninth circle of hell. She’d been known as the office backstabber long before I finished my training as a Myrmidon, known for stealing cases from other Erinyes, double-dealing and gleefully screwing over her peers with a wild abandon, all while doing it with that sweet, innocent act which made one wonder if it had been deliberate. We called her Kudzu because she kept surviving situations that should have killed her off, like the weed we’d named the bitch after.
She’d also been responsible for a hit ring involving herself and about fifteen myrmidons that had racked up a body count of about two hundred over three years. Their little murder incorporated group managed to stay under the Erinyes radar by dint of the fact that the only two who even caught wind of the situation were killed before they could alert anyone. My Myrmidon Squad had been the ones to put the pieces together slowly over six months. Once we had the evidence we suckered the bitch into an eight foot square room with all of us and beat her within an inch of her life because she had no real place to run and escape ten pissed off cyber-soldiers. Then we dragged her into Diana’s office screaming and presented the field supervisor with the evidence.
I had been the one to put the pieces together, taking bits of information from the others and stringing them into a cohesive picture. When all was said and done she blamed me especially. As I reflected on this I realized that we should have shot her down instead of bringing her back alive for the truly insane bonus that had paid off a good chunk of all of our process debts.
“How long have I been under?”
“Little under a year, hun.” Chai looked at me sympathetically. “We were almost beginning to think you were never going to come to.” The tiny Thai woman climbed up behind me and pushed me up, before leaning me back as Kait handed her a white hospital bowl. Hell I couldn’t have resisted, whenever I tried to give my muscles a command they started spasming.
“A year” My eyes were probably trying to pop out of my skull.
Jake nodded. “Yeah Mike, that bitch really ran a number on you. Near as we can tell I think she was expecting you to die while THEMIS debated what to do about it.”
“Why didn’t I die?”
Kait got a smirk while I watched. “We said no.”
Jake grinned. “Bro the Myrmidons and Erinyes were ready to riot if INFAX wrote your ass off. None of us were willing to sit and let them pull the plug on you. Especially not after you got boned twice saving the lives of people were working with, or will be working with.”
“What happened to Kudzu?”
Vangie made a face. “She’s still ghosting somewhere. We haven’t been able to pin the bitch down since you got ripped up in the Med Center, Mike.”
“So how the hell did this happen to me? The Dragon blood nanites were the most strictly regulated things in the damned med center. They never should have gone hot, even if I drank a vial of them.”
“That’s just it, Mike,” Chai spoke softly from behind me, pulling the mass of hair away from my shoulders. “You’re right. They never should have gone live. Wentworth deliberately provoked you to destroy the mainframes, which are where all of the interface control overrides and safeties were. The secondary transmitters aren’t meant for anything other than to keep the new ones from dying. So she hit you after those safeties were gone. She did this deliberately to kill you.”
“But why didn’t my cybernetics shut them down? The control unit should have shut them off.” My voice was pained, plantitive, and I wanted an answer, any answer other than what I got.
“Mike, without you to tell it to override the nanites, the control unit detected them as new hardware and just downloaded their control profile. You were unconscious before the download was done.” Jake’s voice was anything but pleased with the situation. He looked miserable trying to tell me this, even if I was definitely sure that his misery at the prospect of my living as someone I never wanted to be couldn’t match mine.
“Fuck.” I didn’t know what the hell else to say as I tallied up my options for fixing this. It was a really easy number. Zero. Once the Dragon blood Process was completed, there was no way on God’s green Earth that you could go back. There were even maintenance nanites tasked with keeping the body healthy and in that female state until doomsday if need be. I was stuck, and there was no going back.
“Would you like to see?” Kaitlyn looked a bit antsy. She had a hand mirror gripped and looked at me.
I didn’t want to see, I really didn’t. I wanted to pretend that none of this was real, that I’d wake up from this fever dream whole and still me. I didn’t want to do what I did when I croaked out a hesitant “Yes.”
The pale, oval-ish face had fine cheekbones and a delicately pointed chin. Her mouth was somewhat small and the lips weren’t big, nor were they particularly small either. Her nose was slightly long, and aquiline, framed on either side by a pair of slightly large, doe-like hazel eyes, framed by a mop of reddish-brown curls (the girls told me the proper color is russet). The girl in the mirror had a natural beauty that didn’t have the sculpted perfect looks favored by almost all Erinyes. It wasn’t me, though. Unfortunately it was me.
I saw the face rapidly go to despairing and I turned my head away, the tears welling up again. A year of my life was gone. I couldn’t recognize myself in the mirror. I felt helpless, unable to do anything but wonder what the hell I was going to do, could do and not having any answers. All my squadmates save Jake were dead, and I had that psycho bitch Daisy Wentworth to thank for the destruction of my life as I knew it. Were I able to move anything I honestly couldn’t tell if I would have gone berserk hunting her, or found a gun and shot myself. In retrospect it’s probably better that I wasn’t able to move.
I spent the next hour talking and catching up while Chai went to work on my head with a pair of scissors, cutting away masses of russet hair and slowly and carefully shaping my hair into something I might be able to live with, rather than letting me take a set of clippers to it as we all knew I would. Women generally didn’t look that good bald. I can attest to this.
We didn’t talk about Daisy, and I didn’t ask if they’d caught her. The girls and Jake would have gleefully told me if they’d dragged the bitch in. What we did talk about absolutely boggled my mind.
*Snip!* More russet locks fell into the bowl they had near my head.
“So of course, nothing ever goes right,” Vangie was saying, “And the damned Saints had the boat rigged! It was supposed to be a dead lead for the kid to get a taste of real investigation work. We were expecting it to be cleaned out but nooooooo. The damned thing had attack drones and was rigged to blow.”
“Wait you blew a floating habitat up?” I boggled, although it was the earlier parts of her story that had me completely stunned. The sheer amount of damage that would cause should have put her into debt for life.
“Hey! How were we supposed to know that our dead end was still hot?”
I chuckled. “I’m still boggling over the fact that you let the Apocalypse twins in the Smithsonian. I mean, I love you two, but that’s kinda like letting Jake loose at a buffet. Only fun if you don’t have to pay for it.”
“Be nice.” Chai gently swatted the top of my head.
“Yes, Momma Dragon.”
She swatted me again.
*Snip!*
I tried to process the implications of this one… “Boom-Boom… With a Santa sack… Filled with high-explosives.” The implications boggled my mind. “How much of the city is still standing again?”
*Snip!*
“What do you mean you found Jimmy Hoffa’s remains, Vangie?”
*Snip*
“So this poor woman was insane, in pain, and insanely fast. I wound up in the nano pod twice before all was said and done.” Chai spoke quietly from her perch behind me while she cut my hair.
“She actually almost killed you? Three times?” I was incredulous. I had actually sparred with Chai before. Once was more than enough and I swore to myself, never again.
“Hey, she didn’t, and that’s all that matters to me.”
*Snip*
I couldn’t figure out what the hell I was going to do with myself as the girls regaled me with their wild stories. I wasn’t ready for this shit.
* * *
Diana looked on quietly at the two women on the sparring floor. Rife with obstacles from loose shopping carts, to barrels, to concrete walls and street dividers, the training room was rigged for the maximum possible realism for a battleground. Chai vaulted off a wall, spinning a foot at the much larger woman, who twisted like a snake at speeds too quick for a normal human, but not fast enough.
The tall, lithe woman who spun to the ground wasn’t the perfect picture of sculpted beauty that the Erinyes tended to be, and her reflexes and speed left much to be desired. What she had going for her became rapidly evident when she kipped back up onto her feet with nary an indication that she’d been hit, slamming a fist through one of the concrete walls where the diminutive Thai woman’s head had been mere seconds before. Chai was good, but she couldn’t manage that level of strength.
Sadly for the former Michael Holtman, Chai made her pay for that wild over-extension of her attack, and she took two punches to the side, and barely managed to stop the bone-shattering kick with a forearm reinforced to a level that the Erinyes couldn’t match. There was no doubt in Diana’s mind that it still hurt like hell to be on the receiving end of, though. In over an hour of going at it, neither woman had been able to get a solid advantage over the other. Chai had the speed and agility that allowed her to get in and out of the larger woman’s guard and the skill to make good on that advantage. Her opponent was quite possibly one of the strongest, and toughest women outside of the Myrmidons, and the fastest outside the Erinyes. It was hardly a perfect blending of the talents but it had some interesting connotations.
In all fairness, Chai was holding back.
“You know, throwing Mike at Chai is sort of like throwing a tree at a wood-chipper, boss.” Jake’s voice sounded behind the blonde field supervisor as the massive Myrmidon entered the observation area.
“I hardly expect Mike to beat Chai straight out of the tank, Mister Dodson.” Diana looked thoughtful as she watched the display. “She’s the best hand-to-hand fighter the Erinyes have had in a long time. Besides, that’s not the purpose of this exercise.”
“I know, it’s to get Mike familiar with his... her new body I know, and to evaluate whether or not that enhanced Ki attenuation you chickas all seem to manifest holds true for her as well.” Jake looked down at the practice area in time to see the newly-minted Mikaela Holtman simply jerk a stop sign out of the concrete and swing it at her diminutive opponent. “Damn, I keep forgetting just how much us heavies take our strength for granted until you see it from outside.”
“Well she’s kept that much going for her. Her speed’s somewhat low for an Erinyes, but we were expecting that. She’s not going to be quite as strong as she used to be, but she seems to be making up for it with the typical stoic Myrmidon tank behavior. The subdermal plates, bone reinforcements and pain editors are making her just as tough as one would expect, and she’s fast enough that Chai isn’t simply able to out-speed and disassemble her.”
“How long have they been going at it, Diana?”
“About fifteen minutes now. Chai’s taking it easy on her for now, and Holtman’s been playing the defensive game, feeling out her capabilities.”
“Fifteen minutes? Last time me and Mike tangles with Chai in a training room she took a grand total of five to trash both of us. She was taking it easy back then, too, theoretically.”
“Like I said. Mike’s fast enough that Chai can’t simply speedball her. Chai’s actually having to resort fully to her skills.”
“That’s bad enough, boss. God forbid the little ninja gets the drop on you.”
Diana nodded then pointed. “Watch this, you might appreciate it. Mike is showing some Ki aptitudes, but neither I nor Chai have been able to figure out exactly what she’s doing.”
Mike actually caught the edge of Chai’s Fury armor with the stop sign, spinning the small woman about as the larger woman darted forward and caught her ankle. Mike flung her like a rag doll at a wall twenty feet away, at a speed that would have sent a normal person pinwheeling.
Chai twisted and angled herself to take the impact on the wall as though she had simply dropped off a short ledge to the ground, absorbing the impact with her legs and hitting a crouch, touching her palms to the concrete. The diminutive woman simply dropped off the wall to the ground and darted around a corner behind cover.
“Bad move on Mike’s part,” Jake said disapprovingly, “giving Chaiaima an edge like that is tantamount to asking to die.”
“Keep watching Jake. What’s Mike not doing right now?”
“That’s bizarre.” Jake noticed that his friend was moving slowly, carefully towards the tightly packed cover of the training area. Normally anyone sane who knew Chai would move away, retreating to the most wide-open clear spot and try to spot her. Jake knew from experience that it was easier said than done. Chai could damn near hide behind a blade of grass, and Mike used to love ribbing her about having to climb up onto his shoulder to look him in the eye.
Diana nodded. “It is bizarre. Mike knows better, but this has happened four times over the last two days, always after Mike gets hold of Chai and throws her.”
“Why throw her? I’d opt for pounding her. But then I’ve never been able to get hold of her.”
“Mike found out the hard way why that’s a bad idea.”
“I’ll take your word for... Holy fuck!”
Jake leaned forward, startled by the sudden flash of dark silhouette as Chai dove straight at Mike’s back, going for the kidney shot from behind some debris. Mike didn’t look back, didn’t seem to see it coming, yet she lashed out with a mule kick right into the diminutive woman’s path. The kick glanced off Chai’s body armor as she and Mike lashed out with fists and feet at one another even as Mike tried to get turned around so she could square off properly. Needless to say it didn’t work well until the bigger woman dove straight forward, away from her opponent and came up facing her tiny assailant, swearing the whole time.
“Now you’ve seen it Dodson, this makes the fifth time for me, and I still have a hard time believing it.” Diana nodded to herself slightly. “Mike’s reflexes and speed are well behind what would normally be considered acceptable by Erinyes standards, yet is still well ahead of the curve for normal, or even other enhanced operatives, and her strength and stamina follow the opposite track, but the only ones who beat her out there are the Myrmidon Heavies.”
“So how the hell did she know Chai was there?” Jake watched quietly as the two women continued to assault one another.
“That’s what I’d like to know. This is the first time I’ve seen anyone able to perceive Chai stalking, much less react in time. Could it have anything to do with the cybernetic senses?”
“Not unless she’s got them dialed to the max, and then any solid noise or bright flashes would overload someone’s ability to function. You actually have to slowly disable the filters that protect you to get that kind of sensitivity.”
“Well did Mike make a habit of doing such?”
Jake shook his head. “Not a chance, not with the Thunderstorms primed. Although there were a few games of ‘guess what I ate last night’ with the scent tracers.”
“And here I thought you two had no charm.” Diana’s voice was deadpan as Mike threw a fifty-five gallon drum at her gleefully fast opponent, buying only distance from the diminutive whirlwind.
Jake grinned widely and shrugged. “Look boss, the other possibility is that she’s getting the full feed, even with the filters. The data all pours in, but the filters keep you from getting overloaded. Maybe that funky Erinyes Ki shtick is letting her process a lot more data subconsciously than she would normally. I know that cybergear tends to bork the Ki field around the body something fierce, which is why most of you Erinyes wouldn’t touch the stuff. Mike’s had that shit integral to her system for a couple years now, and with the re-implantation of all the hardware she can actually function.”
“That might make sense. Care to test this theory?”
“Sure, boss, what do I gotta do?”
* * *
I was breathing hard, numb, and actually able to recognize all of the myriad, painful bruises that my dearly beloved Chaiaima (I may someday forgive her for this) had inflicted upon me. Were it not for the pain editors, the first time she punched me in my shiny new tits, I would have passed out from pain. So much for the theory of the groin being the weak point of the human body. I felt those hits like I was getting slammed across the head with a crowbar.
I was a bit more preoccupied with not getting my skull slammed around some more when Chai was kind enough to land a kick straight in my solar plexus. I took it on the subdermal armor and gave her a backhand swat in return that sent her rolling a few feet back. Unfortunately she was really good at rolling with the hits, and came back to her feet like I’d tried to tickle her. I might try that next, seeing how nothing else seems to work on her.
Damage assessment...Negligible.
Actually landing a hit on Chai requires you to do stupid things with your body, like letting her land one of those pickup-truck impacts she calls punches in order to clip her. Under normal circumstances doing so is tantamount to suicide, but I had the reinforcement. I may now look like a petite little (okay, sweetly amazonian) woman, but I weigh as much as a normal adult man who’s pushing seven feet tall and bench-presses three hundred or more pounds easily.
That being said, even after four days of blissfully taking out my aggressions on Hogan’s Alley, I was still forced to realize that nothing worked right. My reflexes were jacked up from what I remember, I was weaker and taking the heavy hits I used to was right out. That being said, being able to speedball my way around like an Erinyes (almost) really screwed with me. Trying to figure out how to adapt to the reflexes alone was almost enough to forget everything else wrong with my body, almost.
I could move just fast enough to keep Chai from crawling all over me and unscrewing all my cybernetics with her fingernails while I thrashed about blindly, but I wasn’t fast enough to do much more than land the occasional glancing hit on her, which she invariably shrugged off.
By the time we were nearing the end of the day’s acclimation training I was tired, I was hungry, I was frustrated and my body felt WRONG. I think it was the fourth time she’d punched me in my new breasts that I snapped and just went full assault. I plowed forward, taking the three strikes, and feeling the impacts as I began forcing her to duck with the rapid-fire (to me) hammer-hand strikes. Seeing Chai grin and dodge each one just made me madder when my senses started shrieking “DANGER” at me all at once.
Threat at 176 °... I read the line after I reacted.
Chai looked mystified as I ducked right, into the direct path of the roundhouse kick, took the pain and rolled behind a mass of trash. Chai looked less mystified at the sudden eruption of splat-cap dye all over her shiny Fury armor. I don’t know how I knew it was coming, any more than I knew why I was able to react to Chai’s little ambushes before the threat warnings hit my optics. All I knew was if my instincts screamed at me to move, I moved. Preferably that movement either took me out of the path of attack, or caused bruises in Chai.
In this case I opted to run, as the fellow with the paintball gun was kind enough to eliminate my opponent who’d had me on the verge of screaming in frustration for the last hour or three. More paint splatters erupted in front of me, and I found myself skidding, backpedaling and reversing my direction where had I been the old me I would have blundered right into the path of fire. Not getting hit does have some distinct advantages.
I had a pretty solid idea where the shooter was, even as I used the local detritus to cover my movement. Unfortunately the latest bout of fire was punctuated by my spider-senses tingling once again. Oh all right, my battle-senses, Christ on a crutch I swear when you work for INFAX copyright infringement, even in jest, is a serious thing.
In any case, as I was saying before the legal-eagle opened her mouth, (this is your invitation to shut up now, dear) I had another, less midget-sized, example of an Erinyes clad in skintight, armored latex-substitute try to ambush me. I have no idea who it was, but she wasn’t as fast as Chai, nor were her moves as good. I clotheslined the bitch off her feet and hammered her into the concrete while taking only a moment to scream in agony from the kidney-punch she’d managed to land. As she stood up groggily I slugged her in the tits as well, while still screaming in pain.
I was tired, I’d about had it, and I wanted some time to myself. So when the shooter got himself in position behind me I simply gave him the finger over my shoulder and started walking out of the Alley, to the tune of multiple splat caps bursting all along my back. Getting into the locker room and stripping off the sweaty clothing and getting into the shower was the most blessed, painful and yet disturbing experience. This new body was going to take some getting used to. I hated it already.
* * *
Jake put down the PAS rifle and shook his head at the Erinyes on the ground. “You know, I don’t think ‘I told you so’ quite covers this one.”
“You never said that, you big oaf.” Diana pulled the helmet off and groaned as she stood up again. “Dammit I need to start getting back in practice.”
“You underestimated Mike.”
“What?” Diana gave the big man a dirty look.
“You underestimated her.” Jake looked at Diana and shrugged. “You came at Mike like a newbie Erinyes, when you should have been coming at her like she’s a fast Mym. I know you were paying attention to the fight with Chai.”
Diana spit on the ground and grunted something that was distinctly unladylike as she regarded Jake. “Fast Myrmidon? Christ, now I’m the one making newbie mistakes. I think it’s time I started practicing with Chai again. Flying a desk is no excuse for losing your edge.”
“Good idea, boss.” Jake gave her a sly look. “So how hard does she hit?”
“Hard enough that I probably need to get my ribs checked. If she’d hit me square on we’d be needing an ambulance.” She looked around. “Where’s Chai?”
“I dunno I haven’t seen her since...” Jake’s voice cut off abruptly and in a small voice, almost childlike said, “found her.”
Diana almost laughed when she looked back at the Myrmidon. On his back, like a child getting a piggyback ride, was Chai, holding a glass-edged Daikatana to Jake’s throat.
“Hiya Diana, anytime you need the workout I’ll be here.” She turned her attention to Jake, and let her Dragon-Lady persona come forward, accent and all. “Now Jakey, we really MUST have a chat about your aim. I understand being rusty from disuse but I am afraid you get to help me practice for the remaining hour I was scheduled to have Mikaela here with me.”
“Awww, shit.”
“You two have fun.” Diana stumbled out of the Alley area, clutching her side, and wobbling a little bit. As she did so she promised herself she would never get caught making that kind of mistake again.
* * *
I’m not going to belabor my physical recovery any more than I have to. I got over the shakes from cyber-implantation faster than I had before, but that was more due to my nervous system having been hardwired to machinery before. Mentally, I wasn’t so well, given to fits of absolute rage, bouts of crying and periods of wanting to curl up in a corner and die. The psychs diagnosed me with Gender Dysphoria, due to my lack of ambition towards becoming female, combined with my current combination of X-chromosomes. Hooray for stating the obvious.
You know, I never before understood it when any of the girls talked about how they grew up feeling like they were in the wrong body, identified with the female gender more, and wanted to correct a problem. Being wrenched from a comfortable place and drop-kicked to the other side of the gender divide is an eye-opener, I tell you what. I felt WRONG. Even with the Apocalypse Twins, Vangie, Jake and Diana coming in to check on my progress, and help me deal with my problems I still have some serious issues to deal with.
None of that goes very far explaining how I felt. It’s not really something you can make someone understand who hasn’t been there. I wasn’t prepared for the emotional stress of looking into a mirror and seeing a stranger’s face looking back. I wasn’t prepared for the onslaught of emotions I couldn’t seem to just pop a cork into and carry on as usual. I wasn’t prepared for the docs to tell me that what I was dealing with was perfectly normal for a young woman. They weren’t prepared for my psychotic reaction. Fortunately I was able to keep the pure frustration locked down enough that I only broke a bookshelf, though I spent about an hour trying to make the tears stop.
Physically, I was as fit as an ox. Granted that ox had more metal in her than some newer family cars and weighed as much as a weightlifting man, but still an ox nonetheless. The exercises teaching new Myrmidons how to control their strength and not shake a building by walking down the halls were a breeze. I’d done them all before and the gen-five Mynomer bundles were slightly less powerful than the gen-fours. What they lacked in power they made up for in efficiency, however, and I was continuously performing to expectations, both in the Physical Therapy ward and on the mat with Chai.
The reflexes, as stated earlier, were a bitch to get a handle on. The first time I did a turnaround for one of the docs I about gave myself whiplash as my body completed the action before I was fully done thinking about it. The gymnastics exercises to help me get used to my new balance and center of gravity would have been impossible were it not for the three small gyros mounted on either side of my seemingly too-wide pelvis, and centered in my lower abdomen. Because of those things when I fall, I have a real hard time not landing on my feet, on all fours, or some other position that allows me to absorb shock. The gyros cause my body to jerk into a better position when they detect that I’m about to lose my balance unintentionally.
Among the upgrades were better cybernetic eyes that processed image and data better than my old one with various new vision modes, updated sensory inputs, a new spinal unit that was lighter and more durable than the old cybernetic control unit, upgraded comms, a better cyber-modem, and joy of joys, some smartass had seen fit to install a nanoshredder injector into my upper jaw, like a snake’s venom sacs run through my canines. That last one pissed me off immensely when I found out. Humanity’s best nightmare weapon of the age and I spit the shit. Generally, once a girl figures that one out the hope of a kiss is pretty much gone.
Combine all of that fun stuff, and I was pretty much raring and ready to go back to work. I really needed something to take my mind off the fact that I now had to sit down to pee, had breasts, and a disturbing opening between my legs that I really wasn’t ready to think about fully yet. Gunning down assholes who were playing terrorist does wonders for the soul, specifically my soul.
Sadly, the docs wouldn’t let me go until I had “come to terms” with my new body. That one stumped me until I figured out how to get away from their hated presence. Masturbation is a lot more fun when you don’t have to fake the orgasm, but even though it felt interesting, I was way too freaked to actually enjoy the sensations. But that, combined with my “model citizen” behavior convinced the psyches that one Mikaela Holtman was ready to face the world. The instant I stepped out into the main lobby of the medical center they had me cooped up in and met the public at large... I wanted to die.
It took another three months for the docs to check me off as fit to leave the building and take me off suicide watch.
* * *
I actually spent a half-hour in the parking lot of the main offices for THEMIS, absolutely paralyzed, standing next to the city transit stop I had gotten off at. The appreciative looks I got from people walking by weren’t helping my mental state, even though I knew I was going to get them. At my height and current build, I was striking, and I can’t imagine the panicked look in those doe-eyes someone had seen fit to grace me with made me look anything but lost. I wanted to get back to work, but I wasn’t sure what to do about it. Would anyone remember me? Recognize me? Would anybody care? Standing out front in a loose t-shirt and jeans was hardly professional attire, and even with my body more or less hidden under the baggy clothing I felt horrifically vulnerable.
I literally had the clothing on my back, and an ID card in my pocket. My previous landlord had decided that since I wasn’t there to make rent, he was good to rent out my apartment and sell all my stuff. Thankfully Jake and Kait had been able to break in and liberate my weapons and my ancient movie collection. My motorcycle was gone as well, stolen in my absence, probably sent to a chop-shop and parted out long ago.
I don’t remember what got me going but I do remember trying to adjust my bra, yet another annoyance I was learning to deal with, for the thousandth time. It was beginning to turn into a real nervous habit with me, honestly, playing with one of the things that made me very uncomfortable. Kind of like explosives. You can’t not play with them.
I must have looked like a deer in headlights as I was met by the two Myrmidons on door guard detail. The older one smirked a bit at me and the new guy looked bored. I didn’t recognize either. I handed the older guard my ID, and he ran it through the scanner, checking the details of the card against the data brought up by the reader, and comparing it to my face. As he did he got an odd look on his face.
“Holtman?” His voice indicated he recognized me, even if the return wasn’t the case.
I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and nodded, steeling myself.
The kid was staring at my face when his partner said my name. Thankfully the boy kept his trap shut as the older guy handed me my card back.
“Welcome home, Mike.” The older Mym actually went to ramrod attention and nodded solemnly. I could feel my face go hot and red as I returned the nod. The kid simply stood there, shocked.
“Thanks.” My reply was, admittedly, somewhat weak.
As I walked into the lower floors of the building I realized that most of the norms who did all of the administrative scutwork didn’t give me a second thought except to glance up at me to see if I was their boss coming to ride herd. The reactions of the Myrmidons and Erinyes moving about doing various tasks and got a good look at me were wildly different. Here and there a man or painfully gorgeous woman would stop, look me over and give me a quiet nod. For each of those brief seconds, I felt like I was coming home.
My face was still getting red from embarrassment, and I tried to return all of them, but self-consciousness won through quite a bit. No one tried to stop me, ask if I needed help or otherwise bothered me as I began heading towards the elevators. It was weird, seeing respect and sympathy from the faces of the people I had fought alongside, or who had always been there with a prank, or even threatened me with death before. It was a strange experience and I didn’t really know what to make of it all.
As I entered the small elevator I looked at the buttons. Nineteenth floor was where I was going, and as I pushed the button I heard a voice both strange from not having heard it in over a year, yet made a shiver of loathing run up my spine.
Targeting system online... Invalid Target. Override? Y/N.
Y.
“Hold that elevator!” Simons, that blonde, immaculately groomed, buddy-fucking son of a bitch was pointing at me, taking his leisurely time coming toward me. I’ll admit the temptation to pin his head in the doors and make the elevator go up was nigh overwhelming, but I opted for my old standby of hitting the “close door” button and smiling while giving Simons the finger.
No way in hell was I going to stand in an elevator with that cocksmoker for nineteen floors. The doors would open and the walls would be painted in gore. Yes, I have issues. I also think he’s a filthy oxygen thief who needs to be punished for his crimes.
As the door opened and I walked into Myrmidon Central, everything came back into focus. I knew this place, I knew the people, and some of the creeping unease drained away as I stepped out of the elevator. The place was always bustling, almost to the point where anyone who wasn’t a Myrmidon was in danger of getting bowled over or nailed by a flying object on a ballistic trajectory for another Myrmidon’s head. Simons was a frequent recipient of flying objects, now that I think about it.
The few Myms in the hallway stopped and looked at me, both men and a few women just stopped. I wasn’t prepared for the onrush of familiar faces, or the abrupt, and heavy pats on the back, handshakes and voices of welcome.
“Welcome back Mike.” “Good to see you again!” “Fuck I am glad to see you walking.” I lost track of who said what, but I actually recorded the greetings of the men and women whom I’d fought and bled alongside as they welcomed me home, carefully dodging the topic of my new appearance. For those brief, blissful moments, I was Mike Holtman, the Myrmidon coming home. I wasn’t a woman off the street to be fussed over or ignored. That recording has saved my sanity many times over the intervening years.
It didn’t last forever, as of course someone came around the corner and started staring at me. I tried to ignore him, but actually seeing someone lock their eyes on your chest and cock their head just so made me start shaking again. One of the Myrmidons, Sheryl Bassinger, took one look and propelled the idiot out of the area and started screaming at him. Sadly, the damage was done and I felt like a drag queen trying to fit in at a country bar.
“Hey you, when I say hold the elevator it means...” the voice prompted an instant, gratifying reaction that I wasn’t really conscious of and Simons stopped talking mid-bitchfest.
I stood there and took a deep breath, then another, and then realized that Simons was turning purple. I dragged him in close. “Simons, this is your one warning. Do not talk to me.”
It’s hard to imagine oneself as intimidating when your voice is one that would get any man’s attention in a crowded room.
“Mike, let go of his neck.” I don’t really know where Jake came from, but I didn’t really fight as he pried my fingers off the office weenie’s neck.
I stood there, trying to breathe steadily and not have another freak-out while Jake led me away from the suddenly wheezing man, clutching his neck on his knees. Had it been anyone else touching me at that particular moment I think I’d have tried to kill them. Fortunately I trusted Jake with my life, and the only things he was touching was my wrist and my shoulder as he guided me out of the Mym offices.
“You feeling a bit better Mike?”
“No.” Understatement. I felt fucking miserable, and I was about to have another bout of tears that I desperately tried to fight down, mostly successfully.
“Come on. I figured something like this would crop up. We moved your shit up to the Erinyes offices.”
“Would it seem like I was being unnecessarily bitchy if that thought didn’t comfort me?”
“Nah, I got you set up between Chai and Vangie. Someone screws with you there, and Chai will eat them.”
I giggled, despite myself at the image that popped in my head of the tiny Chai mauling someone taller than her, which was pretty much everyone. I hate giggling, but chalk it up to a nervous habit on my part.
“You know you’re kinda cute when you’re being a spaz.”
I hit him. I just hauled off and slugged him square in the chest hard enough to make him take a couple steps back with a satisfying thunk. I was about to kick his knees in when Jake grinned. “Now there’s the murderous fucker I shared my toothbrush with. Welcome back Mike!”
I narrowed my eyes at him and growled. “Oh boy you are gonna pay for that one, you lead-skulled asstick.”
“I look forward to you trying, you egomaniacal coffin stuffer.”
I couldn’t help it. I started laughing and for once, even with the wrong voice, it felt good. Of all the people I had to deal with, the odd looks, and the damned craptastic feeling of being built wrong, I needed Jake around. He wouldn’t treat me differently than he used to, he didn’t suddenly see me as more fragile, or dating materiel. He was Jake, the guy who I’d gone through hell and back with, and he was still my best friend.
Jake led the way to the elevator quietly, leaving me to my own thoughts, which were centered around the creepy, too-wide sway of my hips and the jiggling of my chest at that particular moment. Even after nearly nine months of rehabilitation, the feeling was still alien. I didn’t think about it so much except on those rare occasions I was seen in public.
We got into the elevator and were joined by a big bruiser of a man wearing the blue-on-black uniform of the Jason company, INFAX’s recovery specialists. The recipients of yet another process, the Jason boys and girls were absolutely full of themselves, smugly convinced of their own superiority. Their enhancement process was simple tendon reinforcement and minor reflex enhancement, allowing them to lift more than your average human, move a bit faster and be a bit tougher. They considered themselves the cream of the crop.
Any Erinyes worth her salt could consider ten-on-one to be a fair test of her abilities.
The guy looked over at Jason, and my urban camoflage fatigues and snorted as he looked at our name tapes. He got a disgusted look and snorted.
“Got a problem, dipshit?” Jake growled low. One of our favorite pastimes was beating Argo-nerds from Jason to a pulp in the bars.
The man looked at us contemptuously. “Yeah I have a problem. I’m sharing space with the two shitbags that got themselves blacklisted for pooching an operation and going triggerhappy.” He looked right at me and snorted again. “And you, if it weren’t for the fact that the Erinyes and Myms threw such a hissy-fit over your stupid ass you’d have been parted out and recycled as you should have been.”
Jake pinned me to the wall as I strained to reach forward and abruptly relieve him of his limbs. Jason boy smirked smugly, looking at me. “Grow a pair of tits, turn into a pussy and suddenly you’re a celebrity. Maybe I should go get a sex-change too.”
That stopped me cold as the floor indicator rang out at his stop. I wanted to cry again, or kill him, or just go back to my cell at the psych ward and hide for the rest of my life. Seeing Jake grab the protesting moron by the scruff and slamming him into a wall hard enough to shake the elevator made me feel a little better. Grabbing him one handed myself and throwing him bodily from the edifice made me feel a lot better, more like me.
He was still bouncing and rolling past his coworkers as the doors closed and we began rising again. “Remind me to go break him in the parking lot tonight.”
“Dibs.”
Jake looked at me. “Are you going to be okay, Mike? I can’t imagine this is feeling good right now.”
“No, it’s not, buddy. However, if I don’t get back to running and gunning now, I don’t think I ever will.” I hated my new voice. I sounded like a petulant girl. HATE!
“Don’t worry, I don’t think you’re going to have to worry much more about what people think of you. The only ones who count are the teams, and the girls.”
I nodded. “Time to go see the ladies.”
The elevator rang out the correct floor, letting the two of us out as we came around the corner my breath caught in my throat as I saw the office.
The big sign reading “WELCOME HOME MIKE!” ran from wall to wall, interspersed with glittery lettering and what seemed to be bloodstains and bullet holes. The Erinyes girls had a warped sense of humor. Every single one of them in the office was standing right there, with my friends in the crew up front, smiling at me. Every single one of them was decked out in one of my favorite sights, hot bodies crammed into the too-tight Fury armor that shined and hugged every curve like a second skin. I gotta hand it to them, they really knew how to perk up a bad mood.
I stood there frozen and started smiling, Simons and the dick in the elevator forgotten, as me and Jake got hugs from most of the girls in the room. Even the eerie sensation of their breasts sliding against mine failed to unnerve me. There are some things that just overcome my discomfort with my new form. Hot chickadees pressing their bodies against mine was one of those things.
I’m not going into the details of everyone’s reactions. Hell, most of the girls barely knew me except by reputation, for good or ill. But it was a nice touch.
Wednesday, December 27, Kilgore Texas
Matt Carter slid out of bed, groggily, trying to come to grips with the daylight outside. He dropped the four feet to the floor from the top bunk of his room, and wandered over to the computer and hit the power button, listening to the fans rev up on the ancient piece of computer hardware. He looked over at the empty lower bunk, meticulously made up by their mother.
Matt never touched the bunk, he refused to acknowledge the meaning of it being made up as though the owner was merely out elsewhere. Mom and Dad were deluding themselves if they thought Ryan was coming back. He hadn’t been spirited away, or possessed by the devil, like they tried to convince themselves of. Ryan had turned into a mutant and they, along with the help from Pastor Ferris had tried to kill Ryan in their delusion that the devil had taken their son and left a demon in his place.
He took the time to wander into the bathroom and clean himself up before getting dressed and turning his attention to the computer monitor. He began his weekly routine of checking the darkweb site that had been pulling data from the MCO databases for years. Hackers around the world were into those databases both to protect and likely hunt mutants. Matt had found traces of data that leaned towards this database being a deliberate leak by the MCO for use by people hostile to mutants.
He knew it was a forlorn hope, because the odds were that his twin would never have gone the legal route, registering for an MID. He’d have been too afraid of his own family catching up to him. Hopefully the Admin password Matt had gotten hold of that actually allowed access to name searches rather than blind MID codenames would last until Ryan popped up. One of the site admins thought he was clever, unfortunately even a script kiddie like Matt had been able to cull the access.
He had to wonder if that was deliberate.
Carter, Ryan was the name he plugged into the database, blindly hoping that his brother might have been picked up, just so that he could find him. The hits were in order of relevance, and there were only three.
Carter, Jamal. “Psyscream”
Carter, Amanda. “Nadir”
Carter, Sandra. “Diamondback” (File sealed, Juvenile subject)
None of the names matched, and Matt sighed and shut off the machine the family allowed him to use for the ‘net. He looked over at the lavish supply of Christmas presents he’d piled in a corner of the room, mostly unused. With Ryan gone, the Carter extended family had pretty much doubled up on all the goodies they gave to the remaining, “pure” son.
He was slowly getting used to being alone, but with Ryan gone, and Crazy Joe Turner off to some fancy school for the disabled Matt’s count of people to talk to was pretty slim. He could go find the rest of the “brat pack” crew they all hung out with, but he was forced to admit that it had mostly been Joe who kept the unruly mob of troublemakers going. Without that needless element of caffeinated chaos, the brat pack was slowly edging into the other cliques around the school.
Matt wandered downstairs to discover that mom and dad were gone, off to work and some asinine PTA meeting where they were debating banning mutants who used any powers inside public school property. Sounded like an easy excuse to exclude them from public education to him. Mom was a huge fan; he was less enthusiastic since his brother was one of those “demon-possessed” monsters.
It had been his fault that Ryan had been found out and then hunted by the lynch mob Pastor Ferris had cobbled together in a few short moments. He’d been asleep when Ryan had shaken him awake, and the first thing he’d opened to were a pair of glacial blue eyes with creepy reptilian slits. It wasn’t human-looking and in the seconds it took him to process that it had been his brother he’d screamed holy hell, startled out of his mind. The rest was history, and now he couldn’t find his brother.
He wandered downstairs and clicked on the TV, sliding into the recliner his dad normally co-opted and paged through the digital recorder to find the G4 recording he’d pulled on the sly every week. Herowatch on G4 was quite frankly a ridiculous show, paparazzi following “up and coming” heroes as they crashed the gates of infamy giving silly reality show interviews and glitzy coverage of a bunch of (mostly) idiots who couldn’t tie their own shoelaces, much less make a difference in the world. The exceptions were few and far between. The upshot was that the announcer, Mira Connell was a stunner.
Tonight on Herowatch, a stunning three-way fight in Darwin, Australia erupted scant few nights after the Rager’s night march on December 23rd. Join us as we follow the new super team called Outback Fury as they move to thwart the Supervillain known as SkyHammer-One, only to have both sides assaulted by an unknown group being dubbed “Crowd Control” by the locals here.
Mutant tracking shows had become Matt’s obsession since Ryan had disappeared; trying to catch a glimpse of that familiar face that would tell him his brother was alive and well. He watched impassively as a series of scenes played showing some of the upcoming drama. A clear shot of something that looked like a spiked dinosaur leaping off a roof, then cut to a woman in bright blue spandex firing energy bolts at what could only be the villain, a man in a power harness hovering above the street, bristling with guns.
The young woman with shiny black hair and the cobalt-blue, metallic tattoos was intriguing, and he smirked at the short image of some kind of azure fire erupting from her hands as she looked at the camera. “Get that *BEEP*ing camera out of my face you damn *BEEP*wit!”
Matt chuckled at the image, so rare in the Herowatch world as costumed dorks hammed it up for the camera. Another scene showed some kind of snake person slithering into a crowd, and the bystanders breaking and running from it. The shot of a Power Armor suit standing against the “hero” team bedecked in white and red crosses, holding some kind of octagonal shield looked awesome. The Armor rather resembled some stylized angelic knight until the flashing lightbar and ambulance siren sounded from it.
He settled in and watched the “special episode” from beginning to end, oddly intrigued by the unusually good spectacle. The Camera crew followed the nascent superteam, Outback Fury from their staging point on the outskirts of Darwin to follow the “Hot tip” that something was going to go down, downtown. The group of four barely-grown and graduated teens consisted of “Tazman” a speedster with claws and a harelip that only his mother could love, “Dreamtime,” a skinny blonde girl who would have been an ethereal beauty if her snotty attitude didn’t shine forth and ruin it. The team Science hero was called “Ayer,” and he spent more time dickering with his widgets than paying attention to the camera and interview.
The capper, however, was the leader of the bunch. “Crocodile Commander” was a buxom young brunette with far too much enthusiasm and not nearly enough common sense. Matt idly noted that she was hot to trot in that black leather outfit that hugged her curves. Sadly, she also suffered from the attention-fiend impulse so many other people on the show had.
The fight in the Darwin shopping districts was pretty standard-fare, although Matt was kind of surprised Crocodile Commander was allowed to use an endangered species in a supers fight. The bad guy was some jackoff in a flying power suit acting like he was king of the world while his minions swarmed around the heroes.
Then it got interesting. The G4 crew played an emergency band transmission. “These morons are putting too many civilians at risk!” The quality of the recording left much to be desired. “This is Jericho and I am requesting permission to put these idiots down, hard.” The Emergency band response was short. ”Jericho which side are you intending to put down?” “All of them!”
He got permission. Then Matt was treated to a rare sight of one of the oh-so-rare “freak squads” his dad liked to rant and rave about. A beautiful girl with reflective black hair and cobalt-blue tattoos, what looked like a spined velociraptor only bigger and scarier, a girl who looked like a humanoid snake flinging arcane bolts and a power armor suit decked in white with red crosses and ambulance lightbars abruptly started tearing across the screen, stomping hero, villain and minion alike with willful abandon.
Matt clicked off the screen and deleted the recording after the mayhem had finished. The Outback Fury and their supervillain opponent had all been beaten into submission surprisingly rapidly, something that made Matt wonder who the hell the newcomers were, and why they refused to talk to the cameras.
He wandered upstairs, grabbed his backpack and the odd pendant he’d received on the winter solstice from a very odd woman and left the house, tying it around his neck on the way out. He still couldn’t figure out why the Sidhe had chosen to attend the winter solstice celebration, and why she had chosen him to carry the pendant. He knew enough about them that he was wildly suspicious of her motives.
* * *
“No, lady, Matt will not be joining in the actual festivities for a couple years yet.” Bannon had looked at the lithe woman with her oddly beautiful, fine features and pointed ears. Her eyes had been absolutely strange, an almost blue-grey marble-color that reminded Matt of stone more than anything else. The silvery hair falling to her waist completed the picture of the ethereal beauty.
“Humans, nowadays, you have such odd rules of propriety. No matter, if he will not be joining us then I would like to speak to him before we begin.”
Bannon had wandered off, leaving Matt with the woman, and he was wildly curious what the hell one of the aloof and often erratic creatures had wanted with him. He didn’t say anything as the others in the coven wandered off for the skyclad ritual, leaving underage kids like Matt to head home and pretend to be good little Christians for mommy and daddy.
“So you are Matt, not what I was expecting, but you’ll do.”
“Umm, do what?” Matt really wasn’t comfortable about standing in front of one of the mercurial elves all by himself.
“That remains the question.” She dipped her hand in a pocket, and drew out a pendant with what appeared to be a solid garnet the size of a knuckle with some beadwork on a leather thong. “This, is all that remains of a great creature from a time long before man walked upright, fully. She waits for one to allow her to finally rest. I believe that you are the one.”
“Why would you think that?”
“I have a bit of the sight, dear boy, and I have seen your face before.”
I took the thong and looked back at her. “What’s the catch?”
“What makes you say that?”
“You’re Sidhe, and regardless of what the more trusting think, there’s always a catch.”
“Smart boy.” She smiled. “On my word, and by my soul I’ll not be extracting the price from you in this. The pendant and fate itself will call for that in themselves. It is both a gift, and a burden, but one I believe you would be more than willing to pay to do the right thing. If you choose to do nothing, then she shall await another time.”
Matt nodded as the woman stood and began walking toward the ritual area. “Tell your sister I said hello, her tattooed friend as well.”
“What’s your name?”
“Kalrys.”
“Wait, I don’t have a…” he stopped as he watched the sidhe woman blithely strip her clothing as she walked away, jaw hanging for a few minutes before he continued, …”sister.”
* * *
It was a taste of freedom, roaring along on the off-road motorcycle his parents had allowed him to have. Subconsciously he figured it was either parental guilt over Ryan, or they were rewarding him for not being a freak. Either way it left a sour taste in his mouth. He opened the throttle and cruised out to one of the nearby lakes, having left a note saying he was going camping with the Turner family. He hadn’t told them that the Turners had gone away for Christmas, a lie mom would undoubtedly figure out in a little while, but he needed space.
It was cold, but at least it wasn’t raining again, something Matt was thankful for as he pulled out the tent and camping gear from the makeshift saddlebags he’d rigged up for the bike. The only oddity he’d seen was a man decked in full marine dress blues standing at a grave at the cemetery alone. It was a quiet day, and he found himself wondering what he was exactly thinking when he’d left.
The campfire he set was well-contained, a legacy of his time in the boy scouts. Technically he was supposed to meet the troop later that night, but he found it very hard to muster the urge to want to go anymore. He shucked his jacket and hung it on a tree nearby, sitting to watch the flames from his spot on the dirt.
He sat there for hours, simply taking in the peace and quiet, and he could almost imagine his brother sitting nearby, joking with him when the first drops of rain hit him. The heat of the fire, the chill of falling water combined with the cool air blowing in from the north, the feel of the earth below, and the smell of the woods around him found him almost in a trance as the conflicting sensations entered his mind, and he sat unmoving until he opened his eyes again.
“Help me.”
Matt’s eyes snapped open and he looked around for the source of the voice he’d just heard. Except for the falling rain, all was silent. “Please, help me.”
“Hello? Who’s there?” Matt was getting somewhat freaked. The other voice sounded inhuman, otherworldly.
The voice was silent for a moment. “I’m here, with you.”
Matt looked around and then blinked. His hand slid up and found the garnet pendant around his neck. As he did he could feel excitement radiating, from where he couldn’t tell. He let his hand fall and it was all he could do not to get carried away in the waves of crushing disappointment.
He remembered the words of the Sidhe woman, about the pendant being all that remained of a great creature. “Who are you?”
“I can’t remember. It’s been so long I don’t even remember if I had a name.” It was bizarre, finding himself translating alien feelings and impressions, as well as odd images in his head to words.
“Why are you waiting to speak to me until now?”
The voice came, the pain writ large in its tones. “I can only speak to someone being affected by all of the elements of the courts.”
“What courts?”
“The Five-Fold Court, mortal, surely you have heard of them.”
Matt caught himself shaking his head, then said aloud, “No, I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“No matter. The courts are dead and gone. The last person I spoke to said as much.”
“How long ago was that?”
“I believe I still remembered my name, my purpose. It was far too long ago. I have been trapped in this thing for too long, stripped of power, deprived of even my purpose.”
“What do you want from me?” Matt was suddenly very terrified for his very existence, as some powerful thing trapped in an object had been fodder for legend and story the world over. Possessions had been the norm, and never once did he hear a real old legend where the person being taken had kept a part of themselves enough to recover.
“What I want mortal…” Matt braced himself against the fear,”...is to die. I want peace, to not be trapped in limbo and feel nothing. I wish to join my sisters.”
* * *
Matt cut his camping trip short before sundown, and drove home. He wasn’t exactly feeling very centered after the conversation with the thing in the stone around his neck. He especially didn’t know if he was all good with the idea of being used as the vessel for someone’s death, even someone who was nothing more than a voice in a chunk of rock.
He pulled the bike into the garage and unloaded the camping gear to dry in the garage, taking his shoes off before trudging into the house. Caroline Carter was in the kitchen, getting the stuff prepped for dinner when he poked his head in. She wouldn’t begin actually cooking until he or Dad got in to help her cook. The Carter family was big on sharing the responsibilities around the house, and since he’d gotten home first, Matt was nominated.
“Hey honey, I thought you were going camping.” She smiled at her son.
“Forgot the Turners were out of town, Mom. They’re all on vacation in Australia right now.” He pulled himself up to the counter and began the odious task of chopping onions.
“Have you talked to Joe lately?”
Matt shook his head. “No, apparently the private school only allows calls every now and again, so he’s been calling home. Mama T says he’s doing well, and they actually have a mechanical instructor that has Joe fixing stuff even though he can’t see.”
Mom nodded slightly at her son, considering. “Dad and I were thinking, Matthew, we’d like to take a cruise this summer, just the family. Get away from Texas for a few months, see some sights and get a clean outlook for this year.”
Matt grunted unenthusiastically in response.
Mom gave a worried look. “Don’t worry Matt, we’ll find him.”
Him, they’ll find him... Matt dearly hoped not, and just the sheer, stupid blindness that his mother allowed herself set his teeth on edge. He dropped the onions he was cutting and drove the knife tip into the cutting board, walking away. “Ryan’s not coming back.” Not if he wants to keep breathing he won’t at least.
Mrs. Carter watched her son storm off. Losing a son had been hard on the family, and it pained her to watch her remaining child withdraw further from everyone who cared about him. She didn’t want to lose another boy. Losing the first to that sick, mutant imposter had been quite enough. Ryan had been such a good boy, and that thing had taken him from her.
Matt slammed the door as he went into his room, all thought of bothering to eat, or interact with anyone, gone. He vaulted to his bed and reached under a shelf, pulling out a baseball that he, Ryan and Joe had played ball with for years. The ancient baseball’s stitching was coming loose in places, just like my life.
Matt had been living in fear since the day Ryan’s eyes had changed. He knew the numbers, knew the score. Ryan’s change had prompted him to do some research. Twin changes were almost never one-offs when it came to mutant manifestations. In the last fifty years, only two sets of identical twins showed one manifesting while the other did not. Nine times out of ten the second child manifested within a year. Usually they manifested together.
He loved his parents dearly, but he couldn’t forgive what they had done to his brother, knowing their reaction was going to be the same to him was pure torture. A genetic accident was all that it would take to turn his loving and adoring parents into the worst kind of terror. He was just marking time until his inevitable manifestation of what his parents and their church considered a gateway of damnation. He had half a mind to grab his dad’s varmint rifle and go shoot that sick fuck pastor that convinced his parents that they had done right in calling the lynch mob.
The feeling never lasted. Pastor Ferris had scared the hell out of Matt and Ryan both since they were kids. The other factor was the mere thought of ending someone’s life left him feeling cold, unclean. Video games was one thing but the thought of actually killing someone, of taking a life, just didn’t sit right at all.
When he got tired of tossing the ball up and down aimlessly, he rolled back off his bed and wandered into his closet. He pulled out a small room fan and set it up to get the air moving in the room. A potted plant brought in by his mother sat next to the candle he lit as he pressed his finger to the dirt in the pot and breathed in the scent of the odd, ivy-like plant.
“You’re back. We just stopped talking.”
Matt began muttering, figuring correctly that the thing in the rock could probably hear his thoughts as clearly as he heard its. “It’s been a couple hours. Sorry for the abrupt exit, but I’m not sure how cool I am with the whole helping someone die thing.”
“Why not? Death is part of the natural cycle.”
“Accepting death as necessary and actually causing it are two different things for me.”
“So you will not help me?”
“I never said that, but I have to know why you would do this.”
“Too many years trapped in this cursed rock. Too many millennia of nothing but silence and my own thoughts. You cannot imagine what bliss it is to feel your mortal mind touching mine by comparison to watching my own thoughts spiral into madness then claw back out when there is no further depth to which they can sink, then have the cycle repeat itself for an eternity.”
Matt shuddered. “So what happened to you? Why are you trapped here?”
“I do not fully know how to explain.” Matt felt a probing, the feeling of something shuffling around in his mind, bringing thoughts to the surface and discarding them back to where they came from. “You do not have the knowledge to fully understand, but I will attempt to explain. One of the great weapons of those who would destroy what should be was a means of cheating death, be it natural or not. A way of binding one’s consciousness to an object so that the mind, and part of the soul carrying personality, memory, knowledge and a trace of their power would be preserved. They would be traps to the unwary, subsuming a host and taking a new form with each incarnation.”
Matt suddenly felt less sure about the wisdom of holding the pendant.
“I see you are smarter than most of your kind. Yes, it is a danger, and were you like the others I would not have had much to say in the matter. I would have simply subsumed you and taken your body, regardless of how either of us felt about it the instant you touched the stone were you not different, Matthew.”
“So I’m already a mutant?”
The nameless voice flashed images of confusion, as it rifled through his memories again, searching for a context. “Mutant? Is that what you call racial progression? Such a vulgar and hateful way of finding expression for a natural process. Why is it that when something new arises from within, the ones who see themselves being replaced fail to realize that with time, their descendants will be elevated to the same level?”
“That’s what happens when you’re faced with death as inevitability. No one likes the thought that they will be somehow obsolete.” Matt shrugged, “so many people try to find ways to avoid it, for fear that they will no longer exist.”
“Surely your sorcerers and sages educate society properly? Death is but another leg of the journey.”
“Journey to what?”
“… I cannot remember. I know I should, but I cannot.”
“Then you have all the answers we do. The not knowing for sure absolutely terrifies us, but in the end, I know too many people in their twilight years who are almost relieved to know that the end will come soon.”
“Then think of me as one in her twilight years, child. The only difference is I cannot pass on naturally.”
“How did you wind up inside the stone?”
“By force and trickery. The stone was used to rob my body and power of guiding force, whereupon the rest of me was obliterated, my mind cast adrift in this prison. I can’t remember why, or how. I simply remember great pain, then nothing but my thoughts echoing into the void.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologize for something you never had a part of, mortal.”< The voice gave a thoughtful pause. “Although I daresay I owe you an apology. It’s been so long since I forgot my own name that I failed to ask you your own.”
The boy cocked his head, curiously. “I’m Matthew Carter.”
“Very well MatthewCarter, I suppose you may call me whatever you wish.”
Matt smiled. “Just call me Matt for now please.”
A knock sounded at the door. “Matt, dinner time.” His father’s voice came through loud and clear.”
Matt cursed under his breath. “I have to go. I need to deal with my parents for a bit. No escaping it.”
“Is dealing with your family really so onerous?”
“I’ll explain later.” Matt turned to the door as he withdrew his fingers from the potted soil and blew out the candle. “I’ll be right down, Dad. I need to wash up.”
Matt cleaned up the mess, hiding the candle in his stash, putting the plant back where it normally hung. He went out and cleaned himself up, moving himself along to go deal with his folks. As he considered what to do he realized that it wasn’t his parents he disliked. It was inevitability that was ruining things for him, the inevitable knowledge that were he to show any sign of being a mutant, his parents would no longer recognize him as their own.
* * *
Saturday December 31, 2006, Kilgore Texas
Matt made his decision four days later. He didn’t sneak out in the dead of night, skulking away like a thief, hoping no one would notice him climbing out a window. He waited until his parents were out grocery shopping and simply loaded his backpack and camping gear onto his motorcycle and went out. He did it often enough that none of the neighbors would question his actions anyway, and the varmint rifle was quite frankly no big deal. The big deal was the six hundred dollars Matt lifted from his father’s safe in his parents’ room.
“Why are you leaving your home?”
Matt almost spilled out as the voice spoke in his head without the ritualistic combining elements. “I thought you couldn’t talk without the element stuff.”
“It appears you speaking to me is forging more of a connection. In any case, I’m glad to be able to speak to you without having to wait for you to find a clear time to do so.”
“Yeah, well could you give me a small warning before you decide to chatter at me? While I’m driving the motorbike is about the most dangerous damn time for surprises.”
“My apologies. I did not realize.”
“No harm, no foul.” Matt cut a corner and hit a dirt road. “Just bear in mind, I’m not exactly invulnerable.”
“A situation I intend to partially rectify if you help me.” The voice seemed hopeful. “May I ask your plan?”
“I’m going to find my brother somehow. I mailed a letter to the Turners explaining why I left.”
“Who are the Turners?”
Matt shrugged unconsciously. “My best friend’s family.”
“Ah.”
“What do you mean by partially rectify?”
“I’ll explain when you stop moving at such a dangerous speed and have better control of your transport device.”
“We’re almost there.”
Matt pulled the dirtbike into the campsite he called his place, and settled in with the camping gear. It took an hour to get the campfire going but it all came together. His time in the Boy Scouts was serving him well.
“Boy Scouts?”
“What, you read minds too?”
“I can hear your thoughts. They’re loud.”
“Wonderful. Why are we forming a connection?”
“You are unique. Your body has an astral ‘pocket’ for lack of a better word, which would allow a normal spirit to nestle in and drink deep of the essence your little hollow would provide. I cannot take that route.”
“What’s that mean for me?”
“It would mean the spirit gains a home, and you would gain access to a measure of its power.”
“And why can’t you do that?”
“Partially because I’m bound to that rock around your neck, but mostly if I tried to it would very likely kill you outright. I’d much rather that you be the sole survivor of this arrangement.”
“Again I mention my problem with the whole assisted suicide thing.”
“I cannot die, young one, not in the way you know it. Because of the nature of my prison when I am released temporarily I will subsume the host, unless some things are done that would allow my host to subsume me.”
“Now I’m really weirded out with the idea.”
“It is not true death, Matt. Not true oblivion, but it is close enough for my purposes. For all intents and purposes I would become another part of your spirit, my thoughts would become yours, my desires would be little more than a human adolescent’s. In other words, yours. I will be you, and neither of us need suffer the memories of my incarceration ever again. And no fragmented memories of faces long dead.”
Matt sighed. “Will this help me find my brother?”
“I have been promised that much, yes. One thing I remember from so long ago. I would find my peace, and the one who succeeds me will carry my power and find that which was lost.”
“Carry your power?”
“You will understand better if you agree to perform this ritual and allow me my peace. I swear by my power, my soul, and the wrath of my mother that I shall never attempt to control you, subsume you or take away your life or free will. However, I cannot promise not to change you so that you can survive this, nor can I promise there will be no side-effects that I may be unable to forsee.”
Matt nodded. “I’m already no longer human, am I?”
“Whatever gave you that foolish idea? Of course you are still human. You always will likely BE human unless you become more of your own accord. As it stands child, you are simply a different type of human, one with altered potential. The sooner your people stop trying to kill each other because they’re afraid of their own children growing beyond them the better for them.”
Matt chuckled mildly. “Now if only everyone else had such a clear picture.”
“Hindsight, child, is always clearer than foresight”
“Very well, how do we do this?”
It took hours. The preparations for what the voice demanded were exacting, and differed from anything he knew of ritual, wildly. Oddly, the pentacle used by Wiccans was still there, though he was confused by the addition of Wood to the closing of a circle, and replacing spirit with earth. The spirit had only chuckled and made a cryptic comment about how humans were so very close to some very basic truths, and yet so very far. She had him re-draw the circle six times before she was satisfied with his efforts, directing him to place a rock at the central point, a smoldering branch to the south, a berry branch to the west, and leaving the North empty, as the air was already there. Water poured into the eastern point, where she had directed him to excavate a small bowl for the water to pool and soak in, completed the odd formation.
“So what do we do now?”
“Normally there are witnesses, ritual games, and feasts, but I think we shall be fine. Traditions can only carry so far when none alive remember them. This is actually fairly simple, Matt, kneel in the pentacle in the center, facing the point of earth, and recite the supplication I told you then strike the pendant between two rocks. Normally it is required to be word for word, but again, we don’t have the time to dedicate to rehearsal and really, there is no point. This is you, not a dead court of Gods, heroes and beasts. You are the only one who matters here and now.”
“Now?”
“Please.”
Matt carefully stepped into the circle, carrying a piece of stone in his hand as he carefully took a knee, as though in supplication, laying the pendant on the rock at the earth point. As he spoke haltingly the voice was silent, the words of supplication, renewal and succession left his mouth but never touched his ears as the sound seemed to literally be carried away by the wind itself, drowned into the water, breathed in by the wood, consumed by the fire and absorbed by the very earth itself. Even as each word slipped from his mouth it was as though a hand reached forward and caressed his mind hearing the words there as well as by his voice.
“So let it be.” This voice wasn’t the one in the pendant, and he wasn’t sure he heard it as he brought the stone down upon the pendant. The garnet that made the stone didn’t shatter as he had expected, but cracked, and a streamer of something, energy or smoke he could not tell, reached out towards his face and then lashed out like a viper, entering his nose and mouth as he inhaled.
His body burned, but it was not pain. He could feel the spirit exultantly sliding back and forth in his mind, shuffling through his memories, picking and discarding images from therein. It was looking at the images of the many Gods worshipped by man. Once it was done and the burning intensity reached its crescendo, Matt heard the once-trapped voice in his mind for the last time.
“Let this be done.”
Matt’s body felt like it was erupting as the spirit, demon or whatever it was unleashed itself upon his body and mind. It didn’t hurt, but Matt found himself screaming at the sheer intensity of the sensations ripping through him that he had no reference in his mind to understand. When it all became too much for him to take, Matt blacked out. His last thought was that he’d fouled up and unleashed one of those demons that his parents had been so terrified of mutants being. He thought he was going to die.
* * *
Matt woke up slowly, feeling groggy, tingly and generally confused. As he clutched his head to stop the memory of the bizarre sensations he’d just experienced he also received a shock as multiple hands began patting around his body, which felt strange. The second shock was realizing that the extra hands felt like they were his! His eyes snapped open, looking square into the eyes of the silver-haired Sidhe woman who’d given him the pendant on the Solstice.
“I was right about you Matt, I knew you would do the right thing.” She was actually smirking, knowingly, in the fashion that most people would readily claim made them want to play punt-an-elf.
Matt was wide-eyed as he took stock of himself, propping himself up on not two, but six hands. He stood up quickly and everything felt off, somehow, and as he took stock he felt the panic rising. There was no way in hell he could ever go within a mile of home as he was. “What the hell happened to me?”
The Sidhe woman shrugged. “I told you, the pendant would extract its own price.”
“But this?” Matt was wide-eyed and horrified at the new “him.”
“I have no control over the creature imprisoned in that stone. Quite honestly I’m surprised she didn’t make you look even grander, more obvious. The Earthen Court was always rather ostentatious like that.”
Matt didn’t know what to say to that.
“In any case, child, there are benefits. Your body had to change so you could survive holding the prisoner’s remaining power, so she could become one with you and end her nightmare. That power may only be a pale fraction of what she used to be capable of, but I daresay it is likely to make you a formidable force, thusly bringing you that much closer to surviving this world long enough to find your lost sibling.”
Matt looked incredulously at his, or rather her, new form. At least he thought the form was female, save for some very mixed signals he was getting from certain areas. “I don’t know how to deal with this…” her voice sounded very small and unsure, with more than a little wide-eyed panic thrown into the mix.
“I’m afraid that is not my problem now my dear, I’ve completed my task and am now free of that particular onus. What you do from here is up to you.”
“What?”
“Oh come now child, do you really think I’d be out here on some mission of mercy without being forced or having been paid to do so? Really now, and I thought you were one of the smarter ones.”
Matt’s normally thoughtful mode evaporated as she realized that she’d been used. She should have been expecting it, but she’d lost sight of it somewhere. “So all of this, my old life is over and that’s the best I get? Good luck and have fun looking like a freak-out looking for a place to happen?”
"Look at it this way, Matt, you pulled the sword from the stone, now you're the rightful born queen of... whatever. Me, I have a long overdue appointment with a locale far more befitting one of my means and powers."
Ah, there’s the aloof, uncaring, capricious Faerie from all the stories. Matt’s mind was in overdrive as she considered the crap she was going to go through because of this snotty elven bitch. “Cute, so you’re going to leave me here, like this, after I help you discharge a service?”
“How I fixed the problem was up to me, and as I said before, I have a bit of the sight, and your destiny was intertwined here.”
Matt wasn’t even aware she’d done anything when three of the trees abruptly cracked, splintered and hit the ground, hard. “I think I helped you at my expense, now you get to help me in exchanged. Regardless of whether I was unknowing, I did you a service, and you owe me.”
The elfin woman actually smiled as the trees fell. “Oh this is an utter delight! Not only do you try to intimidate me but you claim payment where none was offered! So cute!”
“Sidhe have rules, even when dealing with mortals. Even when you do a favor for us, payment is always demanded and taken regardless. I did a service for you, and I’m asking you nicely to fulfill the debt incurred.”
“And if I do not?”
“You’re the one with future sight, you tell me.” Matt had no intention of doing anything to a freaking Faerie of any stripe. However, debts owed were debts owed, no matter how much she would wiggle to get Matt to admit to no debt and skip away laughing at her folly.
“Very well, you’re beginning to bore me. So my dear, what service would you demand of me.”
“Same thing I wanted from the beginning.” Matt looked her in the eyes. “I want to see my brother again.”
The Sidhe grinned and narrowed her eyes at him. “So many, many possibilities to see what you have already seen. Very well. Travel to the fort-city, and find a knight of red on blue with silver shield riding upon a steel horse. When you find this man your choice is five-fold. Two paths lead to death, One path leads to failure, one path leads to servitude, and one path leads to your dear, sweet sibling. So ask yourself Matt of the Carter Clan. Will you talk? Will you flee? Will you hide? Will you be silent? Or will you simply walk away?”
“Damned cryptic riddles.”
“Aye but the riddle be the best you get from me. My onus discharged again at such feeble cost! Surely you mortals can do better than this.”
“This mortal carries pig-iron in her camping supplies. Get the hell away from me and don’t come back.”
“Gladly oh Lady of Earth. And should you encounter your…” she chuckled… “brother again, please give my best to the Queen to Come.”
“Another favor?” Matt unconsciously crossed all of her new limbs over her abdomen and breasts, giving her a skeptical look. “And what payment do you offer for this service as well?”
“Tell the Knights to save the people.” She turned and walked away gracefully, almost gliding across the ground as she parted with that cryptic piece of non-clue. "Also, tell your friends the succession ritual. They'll need to know how to do it. Soon."
“I’m really starting to dislike the Fae.” Matt got a disgusted look and again tilted herself to view her new body, moving the arms out of the way for a clearer look. “Well fuck me. How the hell am I gonna explain this to Ryan when I find him?”
She looked over at the three fallen trees, which had seemed to keel over of their own accord, suddenly too heavy for their trunks. “What the hell did that thing do to me?”
Matt took stock of her situation carefully, beginning with her new form. She dimly noted the reddish brown curls of hair that had been the hallmark of the Carter Brothers now fell past her shoulders, ending somewhere low along the back. Her torso was very much feminine, sliding along the immature curves of a teenage girl just beginning to hit the stage of life cursed with the name puberty. She had breasts, but they weren’t exactly huge, she had hips, though they didn’t seem as “Spread out” as her mother’s yet. Slender legs ending in delicate feet ended the parity to a normal girl.
The arms were eerie, felt strange and normal at the same time. Each one was slender, delicate, feminine with a hint of muscle toning and her hands followed the normal, girlish pattern. The three pairs were set down along her ribcage, each pair of shoulders beneath the one above it, complete with shoulder blades that were somehow connected to the ribs when Matt reached back to feel. The oddest thing was the lack of distress. Each of the arms moved like she’d been born practicing with them all her life. She shouldn’t have been able to maintain any level of fine control on an additional limb.
For that matter she should have been freaking out. More than anything else, that thought unnerved Matt in ways indescribable to other people. If she was so comfortable with her new form, it meant that the spirit had changed her more than just in body. She wondered what else the odd creature had done with her mind while she was passed out. She couldn’t feel anything different.
It was when she realized that none of her clothing had been removed or ruined that she finally took stock. Her jeans hugged her hips just as the shirt tried to cling to her new breasts like a second skin. The fabric of the shirt seemed to have extended, with sleeves for her new appendages coming out naturally.
When Matt finally dug up the resolve to check and confirm her new gender, she received a shock. Yes she had a girl’s parts, and all of the odd, unfamiliar sensations that came with it. She also still had what boys oft called “their little buddy” hanging just forward of the odd opening in her body. Matt remembered the images the imprisoned spirit had plucked from his mind, images of divinity. The arms were common enough, especially in mythologies such as Hindu, but the other change was rather common as well. Many old cultures never differentiated gender in their gods, and in many cases they were considered to be hermaphroditic.
Matt was left somewhat at a loss to figure out just how much more obnoxiously, arrogantly ostentatious the spirit could have chosen to be with her new body, despite what the whimsical Sidhe might have said. In any case, Matt rapidly figured out that she needed to get the hell out of the Kilgore area while the getting was good. If Pastor Ferris caught a hint of her now, it’d be all over but the hanging.
* * *
Dawn came on the eve of the new year, as light-falling footsteps fell silently amongst the fallen trees. The Sidhe woman smiled and watched, unseen at the tail-lights of the once-boy’s motorcycle tore away from the campground, seeking a highway heading west. The silver-haired woman looked at the signs of Matt’s passing and closed her eyes. There were no words spoken, no odd gestures, merely a twitch of her will. When her eyes opened no one would ever find the signs of the child’s time here. No pentacle, no tire tracks, no fallen trees, not even the remains of a carefully tended fire. Not even a DNA trace would be found.
Another piece in the puzzle began falling and she was relatively certain that the boy would find his way as her skin began to brown, flaking away as dead, brown leaves in the morning wind, carried along to parts random, to settle on the ground and renew the earth. As more leaves slid away into the night air, twigs, burrs and dirt began falling away as she walked deeper into the copse of trees.
When the last of her fell away, nothing more than dead plant matter given life, the dream that was Kalrys ended and another began elsewhere.
* * *
January 1st, 2007, Outskirts of Dallas/Fort Worth Metroplex, Texas
Officer Thomas Knight of the Texas Highway Patrol felt tense, uneasy. Something was off about this day, ever since the APB from Kilgore came across the horn. Apparently one of the local boys had gone missing, along with his motorcycle, a street-legal dirt-jumper. The word passed along was that the family in question had lost another son earlier in the year to a mutant with blue, slitted eyes like a cat, or some lizards. That the second boy had gone missing on the eve of the new year was doubly worrying.
Knight adjusted his helmet, watching the road, trying to concentrate on doing something constructive when he saw the motocross dirtbike scream down the highway towards Dallas. The shock of red-brown hair coming out from under the black helmet didn’t match the picture of the boy, nor did the lithe female frame occupying the bike.
Knight kick-started his own motorcycle and pulled out behind, slowly approaching the odd rider from behind, trying to get a look at the back license plate. “Dispatch this is unit 113, following possible match on dirtbike matching the APB out of Kilgore, license plate number to follow.”
He rattled off the plate number and waited a few seconds. “Unit 113 license plate confirmed, that’s the bike. Make the stop and detain the rider for a black and white to pick ‘em up.”
It was all Knight needed to know. He flashed the light bar on his bike and sounded the siren, and saw the rider of the motorcycle look at her mirror then look back over her shoulder at him. He could almost hear the rider cussing and wondered what would happen. He was very pleasantly surprised when the motorcycle clicked on the turn signal and he followed the machine in an easy turn-off, coming to a stop behind the rider, who visibly turned off the engine and threw down the kickstand, hands still on the handlebars, making no aggressive or threatening moves.
“Dispatch, this is 113, suspect is stopped at the Belt Line turn-off, appears to be unresisting.”
“10-4 113, proceed with caution.”
As officer Knight stepped off his bike he watched for any sign of the suspect rabbiting as he got close. It was rather surprising to see that he’d been right about the female rider, although her dark blue jacket was bunched up oddly around her stomach. “Miss, please step off the motorcycle and remove your helmet.”
The girl nodded, and he noted that she seemed to be shaking as she stepped away from the motorcycle, and removing the off-road helmet from her head. The wild mane of hair that was loosed was that red-brown color. Again, she seemed to be shaking as she dropped the helmet to the side, still facing away as he stepped to about eight feet away.
“Miss, please turn around, keeping your hands to your sides.”
When he did get a look at her the first thing he thought was “teenage girl,” just young enough to be his own daughter. She had that awkward but beautiful face and build that promised to become something more in a few short years. He also saw her eyes. Glacier blue irises with reptilian slits stared back at him, and rather abruptly Thomas Knight’s asshole puckered so tight that he wouldn’t be able to shit for a week as he realized she was a mutant, and her eyes matched the description of the ones that had kidnapped the Carter boy earlier that year. His hand went to the holster of his pistol as he turned sideways so she couldn’t get a full view of what he was doing.
The girl’s eyes went wide, like a deer in headlights as she realized what he was doing. She didn’t look like some killer mutant, but a scared child. Knight had to remind himself that even children could be killers.
“Get on the ground, face-down with your hands on top of your…” he stopped as a crash sounded behind him as he snapped his head around to see his motorcycle fall over and hit the ground. There was a whining screech of tortured metal and cracking asphalt as the bike abruptly compressed itself into the ground, warping and deforming like an elephant had just sat its fat ass down on top of it.
“…head?” He looked back at the girl to see she was no longer standing, but scrambling onto her face, clutching her hands to the back of her head.
As he moved closer, gun out, he could hear the girl, panic in her voice chanting “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over again, shaking.
Officer Knight looked at her for any sign of weapons, although she’d just unintentionally declared live and in stereo that she hardly needed them. As he looked at her, he saw movement inside her jacket, low around her belly.
“What’s that inside your jacket?” He decided to forgo the preliminaries. “Take it off and show me what you have in there.”
Knight was absolutely stunned when the jacket seemed to come unzipped on its own and four more hands slid out along the pavement. “Please don’t shoot me.” The girl was crying.
“Dispatch this is 113, suspect is a mutant, my motorcycle is toast, and I don’t have enough handcuffs to take this one into custody properly.”
* * *
Matt was shaking, nearly uncontrollably, in the back of the heavily reinforced cage of the powder-blue MCO van. It took exactly four minutes for her to break all three of the pairs of handcuffs, and the van jerked wildly as the driver tried to control the vehicle while she huddled, shaking, across the back seat. She’d seen enough “where is my child” websites on the internet while trying to catch a glimpse of anything related to Ryan and more than a few horror stories while researching mutants in general.
She was desperately afraid that the MCO agents were going to kill her. The motorcycle cop was riding in the front of the cage, staring at her while she was quietly wishing she’d run away from him. He had a worried look and the two agents driving the vehicle maintained a calm façade that scared the hell out of her as the officer had read her the Miranda rights, arresting her for the disappearance of one Ryan Carter over six months prior.
Officer Knight looked over at the agents. “Do mutants always panic and start shivering in the back seat?”
The agent riding shotgun, a blonde woman with shoulder length hair shrugged. “Sometimes they do, mostly kids who’ve heard too many Gestapo stories about us.”
“Anything I can do to calm her down?” Knight was rather worried that the girl might panic and accidentally kill all three of them. What he knew about mutants could have filled a thimble and still left room for someone’s fingertip.
The driver looked back. “No, not much. Hopefully she’ll stop freaking out once we get her to the interrogation room. There’s really no help for it until they see that we’re not actually going to put a bullet in them.”
At the mention of bullets Matt felt the van lurch again, almost going off the road. “I’m sorry!” Her voice was panicked, not wanting to give the cops an excuse.
“Christ she’s going to get us killed.”
The woman looked back at the cop. “Doubt it. Yeah, this is worse than usual, but most kids who’ve just manifested don’t actually kill anyone unless they intend to, completely lose it and panic, or are ragers. She’s showing all the signs of rapid-burst power spikes, and I think she’s more afraid of doing us harm than anything.”
“How can you tell?”
“She didn’t rip your head off when you pulled her over.”
Knight shook his head. “No, I mean how can you tell she just manifested? We’ve been looking for a mutant with her eye description for six or seven months now.”
“And I know at least four in the Dallas area with similar eyes who were never near Kilgore.”
Knight blinked. “You serious?”
The driver nodded. “Yeah, quite frankly eyes going weird is pretty much the most common type of early warning you get. Now the fact that she was on the boy’s bike means either yes, she did do something to the Carter boy, or…”
Knight caught on. “Or she’s the Carter boy. Can that happen?”
The woman nodded. “It’s rare as hell, but it happens. See? There you go, she’s stopped shaking and is actually listening to us now.”
Matt was actually pressed up against the cage, listening to every word, absolutely fascinated. She didn’t realize she was twisting up the metal her fingers were pressed through. The two MCO agents seemed to take this as par for the course. As she looked at the officer, who was staring at her nervously, she noted the silver shield and the name tag that read “Knight.” Knight of red on blue with silver shield riding upon a steel horse. Of course, the cryptic statement had to be literal. She also remembered the comment about five courses, and their consequences. All in all, she was desperately hoping that she could talk her way out of getting turned into a grease smear, or incarcerated at Thunder Mountain.
The blonde agent looked back at her, “Ah, I see you’re a bit more rational now. Care to talk a bit?”
“I guess. Sorry about your motorcycle. I’m still not sure what that was.” She gave Knight an apologetic look.
“So you are accepting responsibility for the motorcycle?”
“I dunno. I don’t even know for sure what happened to it, much less if I’m not losing my mind.” Matt was a bit frustrated.
The agent nodded. “Hey look, you’re calm, the van’s stopped lurching, we may be able to get this done quickly. Could you take your fingers out of the cage grille please? You’re a bit stronger than you look and I’d rather we were able to keep this ride on a civil level.”
Matt looked at the parts of the cage she was mangling with her grip on six limbs. “Sorry.” She withdrew her hands from the metal cage.
“Thank you. We’re five minutes out from the office. We will ask you a few questions and see what we can learn. If I’m right, then we’ll probably need to call your parents and have them here for the interview because I doubt you’re over eighteen.” The blonde agent was all business.
Matt quailed. Having her parents see her like this was the last thing she wanted. The van lurched.
“Woah, what’s the matter kid?” Knight saw Matt’s terrified look, and started talking to calm her down.
“I don’t want them to let the pastor kill me like he tried with Ryan.” Matt’s voice was very small, terrified.
Knight looked over at the two agents as they asked what she said. “She says there might be a bigger problem with this case than we thought.”
* * *
January 1, 2007, MCO Dallas/Fort Worth office
The interrogation room was bare save for a table, three chairs and a cup of water which she’d already drank and one mirror which she knew would have MCO agents watching her every move. She fidgeted with her new limbs, trying to not be too nervous, although she had to force herself to not mess with the table much. She’d managed to bend it downward, dangerously, before she realized that she was a lot stronger than she should be. Fixing it without doing more damage had occupied a lot of concentration and cussing quietly to herself.
After what seemed like forever to her mind, the two agents who had driven her to the MCO branch office walked in with a third man who carried another chair along with his briefcase. The blonde looked at her appraisingly.
“My name is Agent Cassandra Tyler, this is my partner, Agent Will Howes.” She pointed to the well-groomed man with a shock of red hair that had driven the van. “And this is Agent Colin Davis from the FBI missing persons division. He will be conducting this interview and evaluation, per Federal law pertaining to potential kidnappings.”
Matt waved weakly. “Hi.”
Agents Tyler and Davis sat across from the fearful child while Agent Howes stood by the one-way mirror that Matt knew from all the cops shows had a recording station and people watching. He was looking at a cellphone as the other two moved into position.
Agent tyler pulled her hair behind her ears as she and the FBI agent opened the folders. “Now young lady, for the record would you please state your name?”
Matt sat there, mouth open, running down ideas as her brain basically froze. The sudden paranoia over giving a boy’s name, rattling her for a moment, fought down the idea that being considered gay was somehow worse than being arrested for her own kidnapping. Her shoulders slumped as she dropped her head between two hands while the other four hands fidgeted nervously in her lap. “Matthew Carter.”
Agent Davis of the FBI closed his folder. “She’s all yours.” The FBI agent dismissed Sandra’s claim and stood to get up as the agent standing in the back’s phone beeped, and he read the text message. “If she’s not going to cooperate with us I’ll leave her to you. Tell me if you get a lead on where she dumped the twins.”
Matt was watching with horrified disbelief as the FBI agent was stopped at the door by Agent Tyler’s Partner.
“Sit down Davis, Boost just confirmed, girl’s legit. Either she’s the missing kid or someone figured out how to imprint her with his identity.”
“Psychics don’t prove anything in court, and I thought it was…”
Tyler snapped over her shoulder. “Davis shut up. For the last freaking time, whomever this department hires on as a Shepherd is none of your damned business. Boost says she’s legit, I’ll take her word for now.”
Davis shrugged. “If she’s legit, then there’s no FBI case here, and I’m overloaded. So if you get the whole skinny, and there’s an FBI case to be had, call me. Otherwise, you’re the MCO. Do your MCO thing.”
“I still hate him you know.” Howes flipped the chair around and leaned forward on the backrest while Tyler made a few notes. He took in the terrified expression on Matt’s face and shook his head. “Hey kid, can you calm down a bit? Just take a few deep breaths, full ones. You’re not under arrest, and contrary to the propaganda, there have been no disappearing children with the Dallas MCO. I want you to put that firmly in your head now.”
Tyler chuckled as Matt tried to calm down, taking the deep breaths, realizing that she felt lighter as the slightly-heavier-than-normal gravity in the room was gently returning to normal. “We don’t do things here the same as places like New York. There’s a few branches like us, and if you tell us your story and it lines up, we’ll talk about why you ran away.”
“Do… Do you actually have a psychic watching me?” Matt looked at the mirror, squinting, even though it didn’t help her see past her own reflection. That reflection was rather creepy, in a very special way, because it took Matthew several moments to register that the reflection was not the one she was born with.
“Boost? Yeah, we do. We only use her for preliminaries to figure out if we’re barking up the wrong tree.”
“Can I at least have her in here? It’s kinda creepy having someone reading your mind when you can’t see them.”
“Depends kid, you find it creepier to have someone behind the mirror? Or would you prefer combat power armor?” The man closed the cell phone. “Sorry, kid. We don’t let non-MCO personnel see the faces of our Shepherds. Too many other mutants would cheerily kill all of them for selling out to the enemy.”
“Oh.” Matthew was actually at a loss for what to say. “I don’t suppose it would help if I said I won’t tell anyone about her?”
“Actually, no, I’m sorry…” His words were interrupted as the door opened and a brunette woman with short-cropped hair in a bob stepped in, interrupting his train of thought.
“Actually, it would.” The woman said. “Young lady if Boost reveals herself will you promise not to reveal her identity to anyone not in the Mutant Commission Office of Dallas and Fort Worth? If you’re willing She also promises not to invade your personal life more than it takes to confirm or refute your story.” Both of the seated agents looked at the woman like she had a trout coming from her forehead.
Matthew very carefully stopped. Everything she was, everything she could do, every possibility of her life seemed poised on her answer to this one thing. The question throbbed in her mind as she dimly nodded and the woman held out a hand. As Matthew took the hand in agreement, everything washed into the statement as the word “Done,” Instinctively slipped from her lips. Matt didn’t know how, and didn’t know why, but she knew that the one called Boost’s identity would never travel beyond her lips, ever, even under torture. It was a terrifying thought.
“Boost what the hell was that?” Agent Tyler looked at the other woman like she’d gone mad.
Boost looked at the agents. “I was just confirming that the dashingly terrified princess here fits a rather rare type of mutant. She won’t tell anyone who I am, because she can’t. Making that promise wrote that deal into her soul, as it were. For her breaking it’s likely impossible, and if I broke it, I’d be in for a very bad day.”
“More of your magic meets psychics claptrap?” Howes grinned at her like he was used to needling her.
“Well, yeah! And if even an uneducated lout like you can figure that out, then we’re off to a good start.”
Matt covered her mouth, the odd banter doing more to put her at ease than anything else, even through the bizarre creep factor. Even so, “She’s right. I dunno what she did… But she’s right. I don’t think I can tell anyone.” She seemed bizarrely bemused.
Agent Tyler blinked. “Mage or Avatar effect?”
Boost grinned and sat down. “I’m guessing Avatar, the assimilated avatar rather than both because for all Matthew here’s thoughts are very much those of a normal teenager, they express themselves in rather alien ways. She’s changed quite a bit, haven’t you?”
Matt processed the information. It seemed to jive somewhat with what the thing in the pendant had told her, but she wasn’t sure. “Changed, yeah. Uhh what’s an Avatar?”
“Avatars are weird.” Agent Howe leaned back, gripping the backrest of the chair as he did so. “I’m not sure how much of it I buy into but it’s pretty much considered scientific fact by now. Avatars are basically people who can safely contain spirits without being eaten from the inside. Call it a metaphysical pocket. But as often as not, avatar and spirit tend to merge after a time together. Each takes on traits of the other until they’re indistinguishable.”
Matt blinked. “Yeah, I heard that as something else. But it fits with what seems to have happened.”
Tyler nodded slowly. “Well, what we’re looking at here is a criminal investigation. Tell you what happens. If you tell us everything that happened, to Boost’s satisfaction that you aren’t trying to lie to us, and you give us something we can look into and confirm, then we will pass on the whole jail cell routing for now, and maybe try to help you sort yourself out, process you for an MID card, and send you home.”
Matt’s eyes went wide, and panic at the thought of having to face her parents set in rapidly. Boost howled something as the three MCO agents ducked from the room as the mirror shattered inward, parts of the wall and ceiling tore from their moorings to join with chair and table, compressing into a large ball of miscellanea in front of the terrified girl. Even though the manifestation ended as abruptly as it started, the three agents took their time before they came back into the room, rather bruised, along with a good number of people who had been abruptly slammed into walls with desks, shelves, coffeemakers, all in the direction of the interrogation rooms, briefly pulled to the epicenter of what an ignorant science nerd might have called a black hole.
* * *
MCO recording tapes, subject: Carter, Matthew. January 1, 2007
-Begin Recording-
Agent Tyler: Are you ok?
Carter: Yes. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.
Tyler: We’re aware, but it also means we need to get you power classed fast and into someplace you can train not to accidentally hurt someone.
Carter: O-ok.
Tyler: Alright… Matthew. I need you to tell me what is going on, to the best of your understanding. Wherever it begins.
Carter: That’s over a year ago when my brother manifested as a mutant.
Tyler: If that’s what it takes, then we can start there.
Carter: You don’t really sound surprised.
Tyler: Wish I could tell you why that is, but for now… what happened please?
Carter: Is Boost listening in?
Tyler: Right in the next room, in fact, kid. Don’t worry she can “hear” you rather clearly.
Carter: All right, but this really sucks. No one ever believed me, and I’m not sure I believe all of it.
Tyler: Just give us what you got, Kid. I can’t tell you to give more than you know, not if I want any results.
* * *
January 2, 2007. Dallas/Ft. Worth Mutant Commission Office.
Matthew woke up on a cot in the office room she’d been assigned to for the evening. The previous day had been filled with recorded Questioning, over and over about the same things as the agents followed procedure, even though Boost confirmed that the new “girl” was telling the truth as she understood it. That didn’t leave a whole lot left but endless repetition, and finally blessed sleep as she was allowed to pass out in the Shepherd’s office.
It was an odd title for a mutant in MCO employ, in fact Matt had never considered the idea of a mutant working for the MCO as a serious one. But apparently the MCO had mutant personnel who felt that there was, in fact a need for MCO agents with powers to help curb the excesses of the others with power. It also made them targeted by mutants in the know as traitors and sellouts.
She looked around and saw a fast-food bag on the desk with a post-it note with her name on it. She took the hint and savaged the contained breakfast burritos and sausage biscuits with gusto. As she did, looking around told her the story of the place she was in. For all the expectation of uniform hangars with MCO dropships, powder-blue armor and the screams of mutants languishing in the Gestapo prison the place was like any other office building. Well, any Government office building with the requisite mandatory photos of the directors, motivational posters and ooh-rah crap one expected among Texas households of veteran soldiers, sailors, airmen and marines.
Finishing her breakfast quickly she darted to the bathroom, not paying very close attention to which one as she used the sink to clean herself up a bit, washing the grime of the day off carefully. She looked at herself in the mirror again, and brought her arms up, touching each finger with her thumb on first her upper, then middle and finally lower hands. Her level of control was impossible, and she knew it. She should have been fumbling around with her new limbs the same way she fumbled around with the crushing power that had destroyed a police motorcycle, and one of the interrogation rooms.
Her reflection brought a distinct level of unease, looking at the female face, the pretty, curly-haired girl with the odd eyes stared back. It didn’t feel wrong, the way she was now, and the face of a stranger seemed impossibly normal. She was as comfortable, bizarrely, with her new anatomy. Even the budding teenage breasts of a fifteen year old girl didn’t seem odd except when she compared it to the face of Matthew Carter. The thoughts of her old body actually brought a feeling of creeping unease, of wrongness.
She turned away, and shuddered, heading over to the standing urinal to do her business. The changes to her body she could cope with, but the thought that her mind had been altered on a fundamental level scared her. In fact, the only real comfort of familiarity she could find was not having to sit down to take a piss.
She came back to the office and put the cot away in a standing closet that had been moved in. She’d gotten the impression that more than one of the MCO agents had pulled all-nighters before. Here and there, bleary-eyed faces were nursing cups of coffee, and more than one of the agents in the office had hairstyles that bespoke of pillows being their primary hairdresser. Most of them looked up at her as she exited the office, but didn’t really give her much thought. She got a very “I’ve seen weirder” vibe off of them.
A blonde man who looked military came into the area of cubicles. “Yo, latest dispatches from the Main Branch for your perusal boss.”
Another woman, this one with jet black hair and a Japanese cast to her face looked over. “SSDD?”
The blonde man nodded. “The usual procedural edicts and policy changes.”
“Anything legal under US law?”
The man shook his head.
The Japanese woman shrugged. “Round file ‘em then.”
The distinct sound of a paper shredder revving up sounded off as Matt simply stared at the unlikely scene. This was not anything she’d imagined she’d find in an MCO office. She expected a lot more “Death to Mutants” propaganda and posters of the type the more hardcore members of Humanity First! would hang all over areas of town.
“Carter.” Matt turned her head back to the Japanese woman, who crooked a finger and entered her office.
She followed, somewhat bemused, sitting down in a chair across the woman’s desk.
“I’m Director Kuni Sommers, the person in charge of this departmental district for the Mutant Commission Office. You look a bit confused.” On second glance Matt realized the woman was probably pushing into her fifties. A well-maintained and attractive Fifty at that.
“This…” Matt didn’t exactly know how to say it politely, “is nothing like I expected an MCO office to be like.”
The woman smiled with a bit of understanding. “And you likely won’t find another MCO office like it north of the bible belt either.” She smirked at Matthew’s quizzical expression. “Basically when the MCO gained its charter in the U.S. several southern states, Texas included were deeply concerned with exertion of yet more federal controls, and in this case, International controls on laws and enforcement.”
Matt nodded. “My dad talks about that kind of stuff all the time. Always saying taxes are illegal and such.”
The woman nodded. “We’ll save that argument for elsewhere though. But in this case while the MCO and their lobbyists were pushing for entry Texas, Georgia, Kansas, and the Carolinas all passed laws forbidding foreign-controlled Law enforcement agencies from appointing non-residents of the states as directors for their offices, as well as Locking out hiring people from known hate groups, and restricting actual agent-enforcement personnel to state residents hired locally. They also made it a mandate that all management personnel be drawn from local and federal Law enforcement.”
Matt looked bemused. She had never even thought of such a thing, much less heard of it. “So basically, you’re saying the MCO branches in all the major bible belt cities are…”
“Drawn from actual locals, which has its good and bad points, but mostly makes sure I don’t have some United Nations oversight puke breathing down my neck in any way that matters.” The woman finished with a smile. “So relax a bit. I can’t say all my agents are the type to like mutants, but I can say they’re professionals first. To the best of our knowledge, you have not committed a crime, but we’re in a quandary due to what you’re telling us about yourself and your brother.”
Matthew nodded.
“So, Matthew, I have to ask you. Do you honestly believe your life would be in danger were we to send you back to Kilgore?”
Matthew nodded. “They tried to lynch Ryan. Literally, all of them. Pastor Ferris led the group to do it. Dad went with, Mom stayed behind to watch me.”
“Matt, what you’re describing is attempted murder, child abuse, neglect and a few other things. If we investigate this, you’re very likely to end up in foster care after we get enough evidence to turn over to Child-Protective Services and the Texas Rangers, since as you said, a couple deputies were a part of the posse you speak of.”
“So you can’t arrest them?”
The MCO director shook her head. “Unless there’s some sort of unnatural influence causing people to turn on their children, then no. It’s cleanly outside the mandate of the Mutant Commission Office. We can have a look, but at some point it has to go to State Law.”
Matt nodded, sighing, both relieved and apprehensive.
“However, the upshot of all of this is, you’ve more or less shed some light on a quiet legal battle that this office has been involved in for the past eight months or so.” She turned and put a file that had been opened on her desk into a cabinet. “I can’t go into details, because of some truly obnoxious lawyers banging down the doors of Child Protective Services. I can’t tell you where Ryan is, legally, but I’ll ignore parts of the bullshit and tell you that your brother’s alive, and according to our records hasn’t been thrown in jail.”
Matt’s eyes went wide, and she felt tears begin to collect. She didn’t know what to say, because there quite bluntly was no reason beyond kindness that she could see for someone like an MCO director to tell her any such thing. She didn’t know whether to thank the woman or hug her. When she saw the glass full of pens float off the desk she opted for a third option, taking a few deep breaths and setting the cup back on the desk. One of the pens stubbornly stayed aloft, floating like a picture of things drifting in the space shuttle despite her best efforts to get herself completely calm.
The director cocked her head. “Well that’s unexpected. Come on, young lady, Boost should be getting back with our shepherd team shortly. She wants to talk to you.”
“I’m sorry about banging your people around yesterday.”
The director looked at her calmly, as though trying to puzzle this girl out in her mind. “You didn’t kill anyone, or do anything more than bruise people, and wound some prides. My objective is to make sure it stays that way.”
“So what’s going on with me?” Matt was more than a little antsy. “Every time I get scared something breaks, collapses, tries to run off the road…”
“Believe it or not, you’re fairly normal for a mutant. If I were joining the office pool, I’d peg you for a combination Gravity Warper and Brick.”
“Brick?” Mat gave her a quizzical look. “I know what a brick is, but I haven’t exactly tried to move anything heavy.”
Director Sommers chuckled. “You left handprints in the interrogation table, a very common sign that one is an exemplar or PK brick.”
“Oh.”
A few moments later, Matt saw three of the powder-blue body armor suits walking in a wild-eyed man who was vibrating so fast that the concrete was cracking as he stepped. He was muttering “please stop” over and over again.
“Shaky, you didn’t hurt anyone this time?” Kuni Somers asked quietly but clearly.
“Nonononono, but can’t make it stop. Won’t stop…” the man muttered as he was led away with a distinct lack of handcuffs or being prodded by the armored suits.
“Shaky Jake, one of our local homeless.” She looked back at Matt. “Vibrates at such a high intensity he damages things around him. Started out epileptic, and when he has a seizure this happens. Sad thing is he’s more scared of hurting anyone than he is what it might do to him.”
“Ouch. So what happens to him?” Mat watched the vibrating man leave a small path of destruction to the lockup areas.
“We put him in a brick containment cell for a day or two, till he stops vibrating, then we turn him loose. He’s harmless except purely by accident, and his friends all call us to get him under control so he doesn’t hurt himself.”
“I get the feeling I’m one of the lucky ones.”
“Mutant traits aren’t always kind to the host. We had one girl pass through here to a safe place that was being eaten alive from the inside by the toxins her own blood was generating. It was very touch and go, and from my understanding the transit was a long one.”
Matt shuddered slightly. “So what do I do for now?”
“For now, you’re a ward of the state,” the brunette woman walking up behind them said rather abruptly, causing Matt to jump very nearly out of her skin.
“Don’t do that!” the exasperated teenager rasped out after she calmed down.
“No gravity event,” the director said drily. “We might be able to take you out in public yet.”
The director found a pair of blue, reptilian eyes pointed right at her with a dry expression that matched her own tone.
“So glad to see the MCO using the responsible approach of triggering panic attacks in teenagers.” Matt gave the comment with a tone as dry as a desert in July.
“Oh please, you’re just jealous you didn't think of it first,” Boost remarked calmly.
“I can neither confirm, nor deny that I would have deliberately spooked you given the chance.”
“For now I’m releasing you into Drea’s care here,” Kuni said. “You’re going to get powers-tested then you two need to sort out more than one set of clothing that fits. Then to be sure, we’ll be packing you along to wherever we need to get you safe from this pastor and the influence he has on your family.”
“Okay.” Matt considered, “Will I get to see Ryan again?”
“If I can get the ducks to fall in a row, absolutely.” Boost put a hand on Matt’s shoulder. “But for now, we need to get you settled out on a path that might take you there.”
“Why are you being so cryptic?”
“It’s part of my nature, and partly because your brother’s circumstances are as unique as yours.”
“And here I was thinking that the stupid Sidhe was the last one who’d play ‘riddle me this, Batman’ with me.”
Director Somers gave Matt a horrified look. “And let you walk away thinking the MCO was reasonable and friendly? Are you mad?”
Matt shook her head and followed the MCO Shepherd into the Powers Testing area of the building.
* * *
Anomaly’s MID card was glossy and warm to the touch, and bespoke a terrifying potential to Matthew Carter. The Mutant’s Power Set was Exemplar 2, Warper 4g, PK 4, Esper 1. She was able to lift about four tons and could manipulate gravity with incredibly fine control.
And she could fly.
The hard plastic showed a young woman’s face staring out under a mop of curly, reddish-brown hair with a pair of blue slitted eyes that looked guiltily familiar. Matt looked over at Boost, curious. “So what’s all this mean?”
“It means you’re a rather nasty customer, or an amazing utility person. I’ve seen Gravity Warpers who can make as much or more than container ship crane operators and telekinetics who can lift multi-ton loads. You’ve got a very bright future ahead of you if you decide to capitalize on your abilities.”
“So what do the numbers mean?”
“Usually it denotes power scale. Exemplar two means you’ll be able to enjoy a long, healthy life in excellent, but normal, physical condition. Adult Exemplar-fives can bench press a ton or more. Esper is because you seem to be sensitive to certain phenomena involving gravity, and the PK rating goes up as strength goes up.”
“So I’m what, super-warper?”
Boost shook her head. “Warper ratings are based on how many dimensions are trackable being altered, for you, space, gravity which brings time, even if at a immeasurable level and you appear to be drawing off of another dimensional aspect we don’t see often. The G means you are a gravity-focused Warper. Even Warper 1’s can be incredibly powerful within that dimension, but 1’s are rare. Usually warpers affect multiple planes of reality simultaneously, so the rating is more of a scientific tag than a power-level, though the two usually correlate.”
“Meaning…”
“Meaning you could probably have done a lot more damage to everything around you if you were the type of person who enjoyed wrecking things for fun.”
Matt screwed her face up at the thought. “Pass, I’ll leave that to the retards who think that public endangerment is a spectator sport.”
“I knew there was a reason I liked you.” Boost smiled a bit. “Just as a fair warning, I do read surface thoughts, whether I want to or not.”
“Figured, most telepaths I read about on the net seem to feel that being around people is a headache and a half because of that.”
“You’re not so bad, honestly, easier to tune out. That’s another reason why you’re an Esper, your thoughts aren’t at all patterned to human norm anymore, it’s like another language I kinda know but have to think about to decipher. it’s rather refreshing.”
“Just let me know if I start speaking in tongues and my eyes start bleeding or something.”
“Ew, morbid much?”
“Too much time listening to a certain Pastor and his ‘mutants-are-demons’ monologues.”
“Sounds like a real charmer.” She led Matthew out of the powers-testing area and handed her the jacket she’d used to conceal her extra arms. “While we’re moving out, have you thought of a new name? As little as I care, most people will give weird looks to girls named Matthew.”
“Monica, probably. Mom would have named us Monica and Sandra if we’d been born girls.”
“How do you stay calm talking about her like that? I know you love her dearly.”
“I cried myself dry a year ago when Ryan ran. I knew it was coming, I knew it would happen, the odds of a twin not manifesting within a year of the other are so small that they aren’t worth wasting the breath on. I was counting the days till I had to run.” She did bite back tears this time. “My folks can’t even acknowledge that Ryan was their son, not some demon who kidnapped their child, and it was my fault because I had a panic attack when I saw Ryan’s eyes. The scream had them come running.”
“You can’t blame yourself for that.” Drea shook her head. “What happened to Ryan would have been inevitable given the changes he went through.”
“What changes?”
“Let’s say your brother wound up catching the GSD bug much, much worse than you did.”
“You ever meet Ryan?”
She shook her head at the prying teenager as they got in a nondescript, blue, VW beetle. “Ryan was lucky enough to have local help from friends who sheltered him during the events that happened. Apparently Ryan threw one of his attackers into a moving box truck.”
“So I’d heard.”
“So. Clothing. I know of a mutant-friendly place where there’s not going to be hairy eyeballs pointed at you for the arms, and they have a selection of things more the speed of your generation.”
Matt said nothing, just watching, and didn’t realize that Drea was speaking until the finger tapped her shoulder. “Earth to Monica. You might want to put the jacket on.”
“Moni… Oh shit, right.” The newly-minted “Monica” scrambled to get the jacket on, folding her extra arms under her breasts. “I need to get used to answering to a new name, don’t I?”
“Easy enough for me, I can use auto-hypnosis on myself to imprint the name to your face.”
“Can you do that to me?”
“Maybe if I could figure out how to casually navigate that M.C. Escher space you call a mind I could.”
“Hey! I’m not impossible! I’m festively warped.” Monica grinned.
“Pull your arms in tighter, you look like you have six breasts.”
“And now I want a baggier coat.”
“That would just make you look fat.”
“Better than if I look like I have more tits than most animals!”
“You say that now…”
The petty, and amusingly distracting, bickering continued until they pulled up in front of a nondescript storefront. A simple sign reading “Fabricator’s Lab” hung above the blacked-out windows and nothing else.
“Why do I feel like i’m about to step into a mad science lab from a movie set?” Monica shuffled in her coat, quietly reciting the mantra “my name is Monica, my name is Monica” over and over in her head.
Fabricator’s was rather like any other clothing store, if normal clothing stores included body armor, utility harnesses, GPS suites that could be worn, and more. She sat there for a little too long, staring at the various neat things.
“Monica, what’s up?” Boost used her new name to reinforce the change, quietly.
“Oh my buddy Crazy Joe would have loved this place. He’s a total tech-head, he was our best friend back home until he went to some fancy school out in New Hampshire.”
“Fancy school?”
“Yeah, he had a knack for engineering, but he was going blind, completely blind. His folks got him enrolled in a private school that would make it so his eyes turning white and becoming worthless wouldn’t ruin his chances at a good life. I miss him.”
Drea said nothing, and let Monica try to decipher the slight, mysterious, Mona Lisa smirk she wore for a few moments before the shopkeeper came out from a back room, dropping several sets of folded clothing in their proper places without really seeming to care where things belonged.
He was big, scary, had horns, claws and scales all over his body to match the sinuous, reptilian tail weaving behind him. Demonic wasn’t the word Monica would have used to describe the man, Draconic was.
He noticed them, but far from being sheepish about his looks, he stumped right up to Boost and gave her a hug. “Heya Andrea. Good to see you.”
“Drea, Daryl, please.”
“I like your name.”
“Just like you hate yours?”
“Just because Mom had good taste with you doesn’t mean she matched for me.” He looked down, unconsciously looming over the young woman who suddenly felt very small, and his voice rumbled like an earthquake riding in the wake of an avalanche. “New kid to the Mutant world? Careful kid, your eyes are about to pop out.”
“Sorry,” Monica stammered out as she force-averted her gaze. “I’ve never seen…” She found herself at a loss to describe what she was seeing politely. “...a humanoid dragon before.”
“Huh. I must be losing my touch, most people call me a demon. Although you made ‘ol Steamer happy.”
“Ol Steamer?”
“Daryl here is an Avatar, he has a draconic spirit inside him, one too big for his Hallow, the side-effect of that being my brother now looks an awful lot like him. The two of them communicate, unlike most Avatar/Spirit pairings.”
“Yeah, and now he’s rambling something about an ‘earth Court,’ whatever the hell that means. Dunno, but girlie there’s similar, she’s just merged with hers.”
“How did you…” Monica looked at him quizzically.
“Dunno, one of my tricks, the old grump claimed to be a Herald, so it’s his business to know who he’s addressing or something. So every so often he’ll recognize someone as having been important in his day and age, which I’m still betting was the mesozoic era, and have to make a comment.”
Monica found herself giggling slightly.
“Alright kid, take the jacket off. My dear sister wouldn’t have dragged you in to see me if you weren’t having your own GSD issues.”
Monica nodded and carefully removed the jacket, unfolding her arms. The draconic man grumbled a bit to himself. “Huh. Shuddup Steamer, I doubt the kid would recognize that name. Fine, I’ll say it if you shut up. Terra-Kashaly, Thirdborn.”
Monica felt a twitch in the back of her mind, like she should recognize it. It felt odd, and right, but not her, at least not anymore. “Rings a bell, dunno why it does, but it does.”
“Search me, the grumpy old fart just went silent again.” He gave her a critical look. “he keeps yammering on about courts, and what we call atlantis every so often. Nice arms, gonna be a pain in the ass to get something to work as well as what you got there.”
“The shirt got changed when I did. Spirit decided it wanted to be done with the world, so she poured herself in, and changed me. I can’t feel any traces of her anymore.”
“She picked an heir. Go figure. Now the old grump’s distraught.” He turned to Boost. “Sis, you should probably tell her about Whateley, if for no other reason than she’ll be able to get better clothing from Cecilia over in Dunwich.”
“I was getting there.”
He snorted. “Get there faster. Your love-affair with cryptic speech always gets these poor kids more confused than anything.”
“Do you think you could do better?” The brunette woman smirked.
“Yes I think I can…” he paused. “Oh you snotty little brat. OUT! Out of my shop you psychic, rotten manipulator, before I change my mind!”
Boost smirked and bowed, then turned and wandered out.
“Did I miss something?” Monica looked more than a little confused.
“My dear sister likes to bring me strays who have to be kept off the blotter for a while. We’re going to ‘disappear’ you until whatever heat is chasing you drops off and she can get someone to haul you out of here, probably to Whateley Academy.”
“What’s Whateley Academy?”
“School for people like you, me, and Boost. We graduated about a decade ago. Get this, Lady Astarte was our English teacher.”
“You’re shitting me.” Monica looked him in the eyes and saw his expression and her jaw dropped. “You’re not shitting me.”
“Nope. Unfortunately, unlike my dearly beloved, pasty little sister, I didn’t get blessed with an overabundance of marketable mutant power. Sure I can lift heavy objects, breathe fire, and when I’m really focused I can turn into a thirty-foot-long dragon for a while. But unless I want to join a supers team and get shot at everyday I’m stuck for my gadgeteering talents. Tech head as you put it for your buddy.”
“So you went into clothing?” Monica asked dubiously, wondering how he’d picked out her comment from the back room..
“More went into fabricating things that the Mutant Community might find useful. It’s kinda hard to find a cardigan that will fit someone with two heads. So I build stuff that can fit, or survive a brick tapping on it. I have a few dozen mechanical keyboards that’ll survive and exemplar-seven clicking away on them.”
“That’s actually kinda neat.”
“Pays the bills. So let’s get you into the scanner. You’re going to need more than one t-shirt and pair of jeans.”
“So where am I staying if the MCO dumped me here?”
“Upstairs I have five apartments that I put up strays in for a while, while the heat cools down. Don’t have anyone up there, so you get to use one all to yourself for the time being. I’ll get the food stocked, and I’ll give you your privacy. Just let me know if you have to run anywhere so I can give a heads-up if you don’t come back that day.”
“Thanks.”
“Come on, I’m feeling generous with my sister’s money. Let’s get you outfitted.”
* * *
The news commentator’s voice was cracking as she read off the death toll. It has been five days since the return of the mass-murderer, Doctor Reaper had struck the Australian seaboard, this time targeting the city of Darwin in his latest attack upon the cities of the world. Representing a monumental loss in property and life, the death toll could have been a lot worse. Doctor Reaper was once again defeated by the combined efforts of the Overwatch Defense Team, a multinational group formed to patrol for multinational threats, and the unexpected appearance of Unverziehen, a former Waffen SS officer whose activities are known to be in atonement for the wrongs done during the second World War…
It had only been a week since Monica had watched the pasting of an Australian Supers team only to now see the city torn apart by the arrival of the most murderous supervillain the world had ever seen. Even the known villains had dove in on Reaper’s Hunter-bots. Dr. Diabolik, who had been in the area for some unknown reason, had run toe-to-toe with the bizarre energy beings the media had dubbed “Gogg” and “Magogg.” He and Unverziehen had assaulted Dr. Reaper as the last vestiges of overwatch Defense were being mopped up. The former SS officer who had spent eighty years trying to be a hero for the world to atone for the party he had supported had given his life defending the Australian Port Town.
Ironically it was Diabolik who was credited with the defeat of Reaper this time, and his efforts had saved lives uncounted, despite the collateral property damage of the fight.
In the footage of mutants and Law enforcement fighting back to save Darwin, four figures were seen blocking the killer Robots’ advances time and again as a group. They were pushing ahead a massive crowd of civilians seeking to flee the aftermath of a disabling pulse that had stopped all of the cars in the city for over twenty hours. The cobalt-tattooed girl, the siren-blaring red-crossed power armor, the snake girl and the velociraptor were going toe-to-toe with killer bots one at a time in a fighting retreat while the civilians were covered.
The ferocious quartet seemed obsessed with getting out alive, and they could be seen frequently stopping to pick-up a fallen man or woman, getting between a robot and a child, or generally fighting a running war against the inevitability of death itself. It was amazing as the murder toll had been through the roof. They had assisted Diabolik in defeating Gogg and Magogg, then the cobalt-tattooed girl had ridden Diabolik’s power armor through Darwin to assault Reaper himself and steal his scythe.
A heavy knock on the door signified Daryl’s presence, and she got up and answered, only to be greeted by the sight of an imposing man with short-cropped, dark hair going slightly gray in an MCO suit that made him look more imposing than Daryl’s draconic bulk. The man looked like he’d been a marine Drill Instructor in a past life and his eyes seemed to bore a hole right through her to see what crimes were written on her soul.
“You’re not Daryl.” Monica squeaked out.
“No. I am not.” The man looked at her for a moment. “My name is Agent Miles Wylann, I’m actually with the Seattle branch of the MCO. I just finished a prisoner transport and was asked to assist you in making a decision about whether you wanted to try to get into Whateley Academy under one of their Scholarship programs, then get you to the school. Daryl will be joining us shortly, after he closes down the shop.”
“Okay.”
“May I come in Miss Carter?”
“Do I actually have to give permission?” Her voice was wary.
“No warrant, no probable cause, regardless of the MCO reputation this is still the United States. So yes, I have to ask permission.” He smirked just very slightly, like he’d fielded this question hundreds of times.
“Okay.” Monica stepped out of the way, and the imposing man simply stepped in and looked for a table, set his briefcase and popped it open. He began sorting stacks of paperwork that came out, several of them looked like duplicates.
“I’m only here to get you set up. The semester begins officially on the eighth, so we’ll have to get moving as soon as possible to get you to New Hampshire.”
That twigged Monica’s perceptions. “Why new Hampshire?”
“That’s where Whateley Academy is located.” He gestured for her to join him at the table. “This is the entry package and scholarship application for the school. I can walk you through getting it filled out completely and correctly, as well as explaining the Scholarship application.”
“Why are you helping me out with this?”
“Partly because it’s no trouble, and partly because once I’m done helping you get to Whateley safe, sound and without incident, I get a few days off at home to spend time with my wife and son.”
Daryl stumped in through the open door. “Ah, I see you found the right one. Wylann here’s the Agent who issued my MID at the school. He’s been there a few times.”
Monica chuckled at the gruff, rude and perennially grumpy Dragon-Avatar. “Ok I’ll bite, is this school pretty cool?”
“Awesome as hell, and I’ll never regret going.” He paused. “I heard the new headmistress is amazing. A bit of a ball-buster, but amazing.”
“Indeed,” Agent Wylann said drily.
“Ok, so school for mutants, then?” Monica took the first set of offered papers and began filling them out. “Are all of these this detailed?”
“Trust me kid, you fill those out to the best of your ability, your life will be easier. It’ll be easier for them to accommodate people with your particular problems.”
“My… problems?”
“I can hear every word spoken in the building and my sense of smell tells me you have problems that will likely require accommodation in my old cottage on campus. You’d stick out like a sore thumb, even in Whitman where weird is the norm. Trust me. Honest and complete as you can be.”
Wylann raised an eyebrow, but said nothing as Monica began filling out her application. The process took a couple hours, which were mercifully made easier by the two men showing her how to fill the things out. After they were done, Daryl scooped up the paperwork, then headed downstairs.
“Gonna fax this out. You two grab something to eat and get outta here. Sooner she’s at Whateley, the less likely some triggerhappy imbecile in KoP armor is likely to shoot her for jaywalking.”
“He’s joking, right?” Monica asked apprehensively.
“Mostly,” Wylann replied with a sour look.
“What do we do now?”
“We head to the car,” he handed her a small cellphone, “That’s for emergencies. First number on speed dial is mine, second belongs to Boost, third one goes to the office of the Headmistress of Whateley Academy. If we get separated, use those numbers. If you can’t get to me for whatever reason, call Whateley and let them know what’s happening. Second is so Boost can give moral support.”
“Okay.”
Monica rapidly scarfed down more food than she should have been able to, then followed the agent to his car, a black, unmarked Lincoln town car that could have been used by any number of law enforcement agencies. She got in the passenger seat, and the car began to quietly pull out to the main roads, then onto the highways.
Neither had much to say, and Monica bided her time watching the landscape change. She was silently thanking the powers-that-be for Daryl’s ability to make shirts that could accommodate six arms without just mauling them with scissors, or a bra that wouldn’t get tangled up in her extra limbs.
* * *
January 7, 2007, Somewhere near Zanesville, Ohio
As far as truck stops went, this one was much the same as any other. Monica kept a firm lid on most of her abilities and let Agent Wylann do all of the talking. The two of them were enjoying a quiet lunch when the explosion went off. The windows rattled a second later as a car came hurtling, from outside the parking lot, right at the window, end over end.
Wylann was up and moving even before he could tell Monica to duck, then gravity got weird. Everyone inside felt a strong tug towards the window, and up, then as the car slowed, it seemed to hang in zero-G for a moment while miscellaneous food started rising. Monica could see the panicked people in the car, frozen in shock as their hurtle to death was unexpectedly interrupted.
The agent looked at her. “Good job kid.” he actually looked somewhat impressed.
“I’ll get them down, you do your thing!” Monica bounded out the door, not bothering to wait as she tore her jacket off and grabbed the floating car hood, pulling it to its wheels facing the road before waving a hand, yelling at the driver “GO GO GO GO!”
The driver didn’t even hesitate, getting herself, and her screaming children out of the area as fast as her engine could haul them.
She could see Wylann, sidearm out and on the phone as four suits of Powered Armor shrieked overhead, converging on the site of the explosion.
“Knights of Purity.” She felt her heart drop into her guts even as their target plucked another moving car off the road and hurled it at the oncoming enemies.
One of the armored forms took the impact and crashed to the ground even as she distorted gravity again, stopping the vehicle’s terminal flight to impact. She brought it slowly lower, and peered inside, noting that the two occupants were unconscious from the torque of the spinning arc it had taken, but still breathing. She got the car down, then dove into the car, taking each passenger out, then hauling them to the building.
The people inside looked at her like she was a monster until she handed them the two people out cold. “Get to shelter, NOW! Help them!”
She wasn’t a superhero, but she did understand what was at stake. She didn’t know how to fight supervillains, but she had seen an example where even the freaks could help in a crisis. She’d try to keep as many bystanders alive as she could. Just like the weird, freakish mutants she’d seen on the news.
The world seemed to slow in sharp contrast as her body lightened, her hair began floating as she started hovering a few feet off the ground, watching the carnage as the three other suits of power armor engaged the mutant with heavy weapons. Nothing seemed to be effective as she watched the lunatics shoot literally everywhere trying to pin down the fast, strong terror creature that looked like nothing more than an angry old man who’d had the kids tromp across his lawn one time too many.
“Anomaly, get down!” Wylann yelled as she spotted the giant chunk of asphalt the rager flung at one of the armor suits. “You can’t take any of them on.”
“Not going to take them on, I’m watching for… Oh God, no.” She went pale as the rager leapt into the parking lot of the truck stop, charging right at a safety-yellow School Bus that was parked, only two of the basketball players managing to get out before the man simply grabbed it, then threw it like a lawn dart at his assailants.
She was gone, gravity around her warped so fast that she shot like a bullet right at the bus, spreading her arms wide, as she focused on the murderous momentum of the vehicle. She hit the back, catching it as she pulled, warping gravity hard while she dug all six sets of fingers into the body of the bus, which dangled towards the ground like an arrow about to drive into the ground from Gods only knew how many feet up.
She didn’t know it, but it took all of her combined gravity manipulation and PK to keep the bus aloft. She just held on for dear life trying to keep it from falling, and as her hands threatened to tear through the frame, she found herself re-setting her grip. Any time she tried to do anything, they started falling, and she had to re-assert herself just to keep them from dropping.
The ordeal seemed to stretch on to forever as she waited, praying someone, anyone could help. She was not relieved to find the three KoP power suits bracketing her.
“Let them go now!” The loudspeaker on the armor let her hear them clearly, just as she could hear the panic inside the bus.
“Are you insane? If I do anything we all fall! Get them out; get them out NOW!!!!” Her voice was screaming, unable to comprehend the blistering stupidity of pointing guns at the person trying to keep people from dying.
It took a moment for the hovering mercenaries to process the information before one dropped slightly and began cutting on one of the walls, then extracting one of the kids caught in the line of fire. A few moments later the three found themselves rapidly removing and setting the shocked teenagers one by one away from the bus, lightening the load, one body at a time. Monica reset her grip again, rapidly running out of solid structural points to hook onto when the driver and coach of the team were finally extracted last.
She was able to lower the bus to the ground.
Barely.
She was not, however, able to stay standing, hitting her knees and shaking, feeling weak, hungry and mentally drained. She was only barely aware of the few students who were aware enough still, and grateful enough to come say thanks for saving their lives. She was completely unable to provide a statement to the swarms of police officers and MCO suits whom Agent Wylann firmly sat on, using the powers of the Law and Regulation to keep literally everyone’s hands away from her.
It was four hours later, after what felt like a small, metric ton of food and mental calm descended again that she gave her statement. She wasn’t so out of it that she didn’t recognize that many of the MCO suits did not like Wylann, which upped him a few dozen points in her book. They really did not like how he kept them away from her, and guided the interview away from accusations of wrongdoing on her part.
Suddenly his-by-the-book-and-regulation professionalism seemed a lot more warm and welcoming than it had over the last couple days. Monica was grateful that he’d been the one working with her, very rapidly.
“I’m not going to go into how stupid what you did could have been. I think you know.” His words were not quite as clipped as they usually were. “But I have to say, your instincts were in the right place. You kept a lot of people from dying today. I wish more mutants were as cognisant of this as you showed.”
“Couldn’t just let people die.”
“So, you’re not in trouble, and you showed you have an instinct for saving lives rather than fighting. I think you might have a bright future in Search and Rescue when you’re done with school if you ever cared to go that route.”
“So what happens to the old man?”
“Right now, he’s on his way to Thunder Mountain awaiting trial.” he shot a sidelong glance at the KoP suits outside talking to the local PD. “There’s strong evidence that the Knights of Purity provoked a known rager deliberately so they could take him down for good press.”
“What’s going to happen to them?”
“I don’t know yet. So far as anyone here knows, they, and you, saved a lot of lives. I’m more dubious about them.” he looked right back at her. “You, however, need training. You did overexert, and you could have killed yourself saving those boys’ lives. The bus is a loss, micro-warping in the frame did a lot of damage.”
“Sorry.”
“They’re alive. That’s more than they would be had we not stopped here. Just don’t make a habit of getting involved in police or supers fights.”
“If I have a choice I’ll skip the whole mess.”
“That puts you ahead of the game in the brains department. For now, it’s time to get going again. We’ll hit a hotel up the road, then continue. Should have you on campus the day after the semester opens.”
“Late to school on the first day, what would mom think?”
* * *
January 9th, 2007, Whateley Academy
Crisp, cold air should have bothered Monica more as she exited the MCO Lincoln. The two gray gargoyles at the gate were almost as imposing as the man she left in the car with a heartfelt “thank you” for helping her.
It was cold, but not cold enough to need the jacket, and the buildings were very “Old-school New England” with the exception of the impressive, geodesic, crystal dome in the center of the school. Along the path a pretty girl waited for her, and held a hand out.
“Hello, my name’s Beltane, welcome to Whateley Academy.” The girl’s voice was thick with an english accent.
“Uh, hi. I’m Anomaly?”
“You sound like you’re not sure.”
“I was expecting something more… X-Mansion, I guess.”
“Wait until we get you settled in then. We’re going to take you to Poe Cottage and get you situated, then we’ll do the tour, and you should be able to hit the Crystal Hall for lunch right as everyone settles in.”
“Okay.”
“Now just as a heads-up, Poe’s a bit… odd, I’ll explain as we go.”
It was two hours later when Anomaly was quietly settled into a basement room at Poe, filled in on the purpose of the cottage, and taken on the tour before being set loose to grab some lunch. She was very much overwhelmed by… everything, especially when she saw them. A serpentine girl and the metal-haired girl with the blue tattoos walking into the Crystal Hall with literally no one offering them so much as a second glance. The metal-haired girl had several bandages along her body, and her back and one arm sparked with odd, eldritch colors as she moved along what Monica could only surmise were her wounds.
She shook her head as she followed them in and was promptly overwhelmed by the sheer breadth and number of kids in the hall, ranging from exemplar hotties to GSD terrors. Hundreds of kids had filtered into the lines, and she found herself staring at too many people in turn.
“Hey you in line to eat or gawk?” a cheerfully snarky voice erupted behind her, attached to a rambunxious looking black girl who looked like she was a walking sugar high.
“Umm, sorry.” She walked over to the line and piled the food on after seeing just how much some of the other kids could eat.
“Hey, no worries, you got the new-girl look. Just remember, the chow line is sacred.”
Monica chuckled and headed towards the more sheltered area of the Crystal hall and as she was looking, she heard a painfully familiar voice speaking a familiar phrase very loudly.
“We got out, and we kept people alive doing it. No fear, no regrets.” She turned and saw the cobalt-tattooed girl, the velociraptor and the snake girl fist-bumping together with a person in the garish, nearly vomit-inducing ensemble of clothing worn by “Crazy Joe” Turner.
Monica froze like a deer in headlights as she saw the snake girl and two other monstrous girls snap their attention at her sudden upwelling of disbelief. In the head of the snake were a pair of slitted, blue eyes that matched her own.
It didn’t take long for the other eyes to follow, and the dinosaur-kid stood up and walked over curiously sniffing the air next to her. She barely noticed. She noticed when he shrieked ferally back at his friends and signed -She smells identical to Diamondback.-
“No fucking way.” Joe jumped out of his seat and came over to examine the girl whose face was too uncannily identical to Diamondback’s sans scales, and stared at her with those blind, white eyes.
“Carter, is that you?”
* * *
February 3rd, 2007, Crystal Hall
Ayla shook hands with Hazmat and watched him make his way over to the Underdog's table where Anna jumped up and greeted him with a huge smile and an enthusiastic hug. Smiling at Anna's uncomplicated outlook, Ayla casually glanced over see who else was at the Underdog table and frowned, quickly turning to the food lines to check them too.
Puzzled Ayla made his way to the Kimba table and sat down, glancing over at Fey who raised her eye to him. "What's on your mind Ayla?" She asked.
"Have you seen the Outcasts lately?" He asked her. "Are they doing something for you?"
Fey quickly checked her privacy necklace, but still leaned close to Ayla and kept her voice low. "Ah no, that's not the issue," she explained. "It's Diamondback, and her sister."
Ayla blinked. "Sister?" He pressed Nikki. "I didn't know she had a sister."
"She does, she just manifested and arrived here about a month ago, the new Poe girl, the shy one in the basement room with six arms?" Ayla nodded he knew of her. "Well, apparently Diamondback had a lot of issues with her parents when she manifested, and now her sister is here too, and well, she's in Poe! So the Outcasts are kinda keeping a low profile and helping the two siblings sort stuff out at the moment."
"Do they need anything?" Ayla rolled the words around, nervous. He knew Anomaly was a changeling, but she hadn’t really gelled with many of the other Poe kids.
"I've let them know if they needed anything, even just someone to run interference in Poe for them, to let me know. I'm sure they'll ask us if they need us, otherwise, well, I was just gonna give them space?"
Ayla nodded and smiled his thanks before turning back to his food. “Is everything ok?”
Nikki shook her head. “I’ve heard some of the arguments. Anomaly thought Sandra was dead, and since Jericho was best friend to both of them, and he didn’t tell her where her twin was…”
Ayla winced. “How long until things calm down?”
“It’s been a month, things are calm. They all vented their anger on Medawihla grounds. They’ve taken to finding pockets of the Bastard’s spawn on the reservation and scorching them out as a group, now that the Voodoos seem to have petered out.”
“They’re hunting these things?”
“We have, with Bunker and Mule. Anomaly is… If any of the big-spirit avatars ask you about her, tell them to give her a lot of space.”
“Why?”
“You really don’t want to know.”
Three odd faces were accompanying the Whateley Outcast Corner crowd, and he didn’t bother to shift his head to take them in. He did let the camera mounted on his shoulder, hooked into the jack on his neck swivel to supplement his odd perceptions.
Joe Gunnarson
December 18th, 2006 in the sky above Uluru
Jericho adjusted his legs for the hundredth time as he adjusted the programming for the sensor suite he was working on. The loud, droning hum of the deceptively ancient, heavily modified C-130 transport plane was as cacophonous as it was unending. Jack was out cold, a legacy of the droning engines that acted like a metronome to his senses, artificially bringing fatigue to stave off the many, many hours of boredom on board the transport.
Caitlin was almost unfamiliar, decked out in the metallic, cobalt blue tattoos that stood out in stark contrast to her pale skin. The young woman was silent, listening to something through a pair of headphones, almost shock-still as the boredom dragged on endlessly. Like him, she was fiddling with a project she’d started after they had gotten underway, distracting her from the antsy nervousness about coming to Australia that had almost kept her from agreeing to come entirely until Gunny Bardue put his foot down. The volatile girl still wore her blood-red rager band on her left arm, something Jack also had adopted upon boarding the plane bound for his home.
Sandra was coiled up on herself, reading a book and trying to relax. Jericho’s serpentine best friend was often shy and quiet, but he knew she was absolutely, frantically scared of the idea of being out in public anywhere, much less in a foreign country where she didn’t know the rules. Fortunately she had calmed down in the unending hours of travel, and was poring through novel after novel at a pace anyone not familiar with Whateley Academy would consider insane.
Three odd faces were accompanying the Whateley Outcast Corner crowd, and he didn’t bother to shift his head to take them in. He did let the camera mounted on his shoulder, hooked into the jack on his neck swivel to supplement his odd perceptions.
Koala, Spider to anyone who wasn’t trying to annoy her, was also poking at a mechanical project. She was a bit older than Jack, but the two were as thick as thieves when opportunity presented itself. She wasn’t exactly the picture of Sidhe hotness, but the Chestnut hair and tapered, elven ears and fine features meant she could be, and often was, mistaken for the mercurial fae. She was also as temperamental as Jack was. The amber eyes completed the picture of ethereal beauty that contained one of the most devious and diedrick’s-prone minds in the world, according to the great, reptilian buddy that was busy snoring in the back of the plane.
Hammerhead was one of the two adults escorting the quintet of mutants to Australia. A native of Cairns, the man had the dusky skin and some facial features that marked him as having some aboriginal blood in his recent family history. He was relaxed, easygoing and calm, something not expected of one of the strongest bricks operating in the Pacific theater. Jack had practically tackled the man in greeting, too happy to see the man who had fished him out of the Outback near Darwin.
Katja Vilenkov was a rather severe Russian woman in her forties, or he got the impression she affected being severe when she was on the job. Jericho never understood why some supers teams maintained an MCO liaison until he’d met her. Far from the hostile, “you’ve committed a crime and we just can’t prove it” attitude most MCO agents seemed to reserve for himself and his friends, the woman was all business, simply ensuring that the paperwork was filed correctly, the Outcasts had their passports, and that Jericho and Caitlin weren’t bringing any items forbidden by Australian law with them.
Bizarrely enough, his Rafe Armor was not an item that was deemed “restricted.”
Jericho put the finishing touches on the coding that he’d worked out to replace the string of devisor “what the merry hell is that” code that should ensure his Rafe armor medical sensors could be comprehended and utilized by normal, baseline technicians. Slowly, but surely, the entire assembly was drifting from pure Devisor Sci-Fi supertech to gadgeteer-solid that could be replicated and used for the purpose he intended.
He got up and hooked the sensor control node back to its housing under the back-plates of the power armor, re-attaching and sealing the suit, then locking the stylized wings that generated the faux-PK field he had built into the entire rig.
The Power core was pure Devise, but it worked like a charm. He’d need to get something more real-tech before he could actually complete the initial suits that were promised to Whateley Academy in exchange for their funding. Koala had the knack for Gadgets, and he envied her that. He had to back-trace his work the hard way, not being able to emulate many other techies in their super-genius IQs, like Loophole. He had to settle for mere “genius.”
A Klaxon tone began sounding loudly, emotionlessly. A red light appeared on the ramp door and Caitlin was out of her seat like the bullet from a gun, and had the parachute on so fast that “Crazy Joe Turner” could swear it had teleported on her body. The massive, mottled, black-and-yellow, spined raptor-thing that was Jack Carlyle shook off the grogginess as the tone pierced the fog of his mind and he and Hammerhead both got the GSD pair equipped and harnessed safely.
Spider lazily got up and sauntered over to her own suit of power armor next to the bulky, armored Rafe. Compared to the white-with-red-cross armor, her light armor looked as lithe and graceful as she did, and it was painted a dark purple that almost went to black like some car paint jobs. It was also more dependent upon gravity fields for her defenses rather than armor, much like the power fields of his own. The two of them didn’t bother chatting as they hooked into their respective drop armor suits. Jericho removed his shoulder cam, stowed it and connected a five-point gravity field generator to his armor and dropped the chest plate and helmet over himself.
Systems online.
The helmet and spinal assembly automatically plugged into the jacks he’d had implanted in his back and skull, giving a better connection, and allowing him to see like a normal person without interfering with his peripheral “vision” that he lived with from day to day. A few tests of the systems to make sure that everything was working properly told the tale. The Rafe Armor was operating well above his expected design parameters.
Fat lot of good that had done him during Combat Finals. Carmilla and he had gone round and round against each other, but ultimately, she had won their contest, which turned out to be less of a fight and more of a contest of wills interspersed with “brick dodgeball” to keep things exciting.
He almost missed the green light except Caitlin was bolting and leapt out the open bay door within half a second of the light flicking from Red to Green. Hammerhead almost missed it as Jack leapt out right behind her. Spider darted out and dove for the ground as Sandra, shaking more than a little, let her tailtip, then a few feet of tail slip out and drag her out the door with a terrified shriek.
He kept the stomping footfalls of the Rafe Armor as light as he could then simply stepped out the back of the plane, dropping as he opened his arms and legs to keep from tumbling at thirty-thousand feet. He could see the others below. Jack wasn’t leading even though he was the largest, that honor fell to Caitlin, who was cruising in a face-down dive like she thought she could fly. Her body was held rigid as she dropped like a lawn dart, aiming to impale something unsuspecting below.
Sandra had already pulled the ripcord on her massive chute. He couldn’t imagine having nineteen feet of tail in freefall was a pleasant experience, but she managed stoically as first spider, then he, fell past her. He turned on the telemetry and saw Caitlin aiming for a spot about five Kilometers south of the great red rock in the middle of Australian nowhere. Even from above it was eerie how the rock seemed to glow red in the setting sun.
The trip down didn’t last long enough as Jack, then Caitlin pulled their ripcords a bit under a thousand feet up., Jericho and Spider forced themselves upright and activated their gravity chutes, which created a rippling distortion of space around them, pulsing outward as both sets of power armor hit the ground hard, taking a knee as the accumulated force was bled off into the desert and scrub brush around them in an almost-visible shockwave that would knock a full-grown man on his ass had they landed too close.
“How’s the knees Jericho?” The elfin devisor’s voice came over the comms, Australian accent and all.
“Worked like a charm, just like you said. I appreciate the upgrade.” He grinned, despite himself.
“Anytime, mate. You done Jack a good turn all semester, more than happy to help.”
Caitlin hit the ground shortly thereafter with a thump and a roll to absorb the shock, having pulled both control cords on her square chute to control her descent and shorten the time hanging in the air. The two armored forms looked and watched as she collected up the bundle of cloth and safety lines, jamming it back into the backpack it had erupted from as though she’d done it a hundred times.
“Trust Cait to avoid the scenic view. You’d think she was afraid of heights or something.”
Caitlin gave Jericho the one-finger salute, fully able to hear him through her own commset. “Funny, funny Joe, gonna give you an armor wedgie.”
“You and what ar...OOF!” Jericho crashed to the ground as close to four-hundred pounds of dinosaur landed on him, catching him in a tumble and tangling the two boys up in the chute lines as Razorback made his entrance to the conversation with an exultant shriek.
Diamondback took the longest to land, both because she’d pulled the chute highest up, and because it was one of those old, nigh-uncontrollable round chutes used to drop heavy cargo crates. The girl easily weighed in at half a ton, maybe more, of human/snake hybrid even though she’d never tell anyone what her actual weight was. Her arrival was the most graceful, as her dangling tail hit the ground, she simply got more under her until she was comfortably balanced and pulled the release, and landed as though she had simply levitated down.
“And the winner of the coolest skydiving entrance goes to the Diamondback.” Spider’s words were greeted by the whooping jeers of the boys, who took too much time to get untangled by wrestling and making it worse, and a smirk from Caitlin.
“It’s not my fault I was born practically perfect in every way, Don’t hate.” Diamond gave the boys a fangy grin.
“Ok Mary Poppins, go grab your chute, we should be able to hit Ayer’s Rock after dark so we don’t freak the norms.” Caitlin chuckled as she moved to assist her friend.
“Uluru.”
“Huh?” Caitlin looked at Spider.
“Uluru is the original name of the place, the one most people in the Northern Territory actually use.”
Jack, having extricated himself from the chute mess, by the simple expedient of shredding it, nodded and chirped in agreement.
Sandra hissed something under her breath and made a gesture, and the discarded, rolling chute snaked it’s way back into the pack it came from as Jericho stuffed the wreckage of Razor’s chute where it belonged. Caitlin clipped the three packs together and improvised a drag line for all three.
“You sure you’re ok hauling that yourself?” Joe looked in askance.
“Unlike you lot, I don’t get tired, I’ll be fine, Joe. You two should ditch the armor like you said.” Caitlin rolled her eyes. Far from the usual eruptions of energy they had become accustomed to, she was stable. Something about the full-body tattoos had gotten the mess under control, and she was dressed in a simple white T-shirt, jeans and jungle boots with nary an arcane sigil to be seen.
“What? And do actual exercise?” Jericho made a warding gesture against evil as he popped the control on the armor. The Dimensional fade was notable, but not a bright lightshow as the armor stowed itself nowhere, an improvement over the teleporter delivery system that wouldn’t reach from Whateley to Australia.
Spider’s armor flickered similarly, then faded, slipping into it’s own dimensional pocket as the “blind” devisor named Joe stretched out a bit.
“So we waiting for dark?” Sandra slithered up and drank down a bottle of water. The heat was notable even at dusk, and she was still warm-blooded.
“Nah, Sun’ll be down before we get near the resort territory. Our folks should be near one of the tent cities away from the main touristy areas. Fortunately, you and Jack won’t cause quite as much of a ruckus as you’d tend to in the states.”
“High GSD counts here in Oz?”
Jack nodded, signing -Something about this country spits out more monstrous GSD types, so you see a lot more like us on the local supers teams. Not exactly one in four, but seeing someone with spikes is more considered a friendly warning to be nice than an implied threat.-
“Smee, translate.” Caitlin looked over at Diamondback.
“He said you need to learn sign language faster.” Jericho grinned. “Just the stuff we heard before, more GSD cases here. What he didn’t say is most of them don’t get near his level of body alteration, much less Cthulhu Plushie’s”
“Watch it bunky, I like Fubar!” Caitlin mock-glared.
“Who doesn’t?”
“Most of Melville?” Sandra offered, archly. “We should probably get going, Jericho’s the only one here besides Jack who can see in the dark.”
“And me,” Caitlin supplied.
Sandra sighed. “Tell me that you’re at least normal that way, Spider?”
“Sorry luv, stole a package from Jobe, now I can see by starlight just fine.”
“Why am I the only one normal in the vision department?”
“Because the world decided to make you amazingly distinctive in other ways, my old friend.” Jericho grinned. “Remember, it could be worse, you could have given the only map to a blind man!”
The rest of the outcasts groaned as Jericho opened up the aforementioned sheet of carefully-folded paper… sideways. “That way,” he declared, beginning to march eastward until Razorback ungently turned him towards Uluru and pushed.
“I think we picked up an imposter.” Spider looked at Jericho critically.
“Why do you say that?” Caitlin asked.
“Not a trace of crossdressing, clashing colors or vomit-inducing fabrics.”
Diamondback’s eyes went wide and she snatched her protesting “friend” by the neck, giving him a noogie. “Who are you and what have you done with Jericho?”
Razorback was home. Whateley was awesome, but this was his birthplace. He’d taken to joyously tearing across the landscape, running free and taking in the sights, sounds and smells as he re-familiarized himself with the desert sands and scrub brush. Jericho, Diamond, Cait and Spider all wandered a ways back as he powered his way towards Uluru, and Jack hunted for the place he’d been during the previous summer. It was a quiet, out-of-the-way location, with a very distinct, six-year-old boy who was wandering back and forth in the dying light, searching for a monster big brother.
Jack saw Little Adam staring out into the fading light of dusk long before the boy saw him. The large, mottled raptor-boy got low, on all fours and crept around the child like a stalking animal, staying low and under what little cover he could until he was behind. The little boy never saw Jack coming.
When Adam turned around again, he was eye-to-snout with a massive, lizardlike form and he shrieked in fear and delight. Adam practically dove on his big brother, the dinosaur, and hugged him for all he was worth. Jack chirped at his brother and butted the boy with his jaw and hunched down low.
Adam got to play his favorite game as he settled between spines on Jack’s back and shoulder, then hung on for dear life as his big brother loped out lazily, at a fraction of his full speed, to meet his friends. The two brothers were an odd match, but neither would have traded the other for anything.
“Now that’s adorable.” Caitlin looked amused as Razor loped by with a whooping child on his back.
“That’s Adam, the most fearless six-year-old ever seen in creation.” Spider sounded amused as she watched the two. “When Jack’s within earshot that boy fears nothing. Razor killed a Caiman that tried to nab him last summer and now he’s Adam’s hero forever.”
“Yeah, that sounds like Jack alright.” Diamondback looked quite comfortable, slithering on the still-warm sands. “He’d never let someone who couldn’t fight back take a hit if he has a choice.”
Jericho nodded. “You should have seen the look on Bloodwolf’s face when Jack caught him stalking Aquerna once. She never even realized they were there.”
Jack did an overly-elaborate skid for Adam’s benefit, kicking up the dust impressively. -Quit lying about me. I am a fierce, man-eating death-lizard.- He chirped at the lot of them quizzically and cocked his head to punctuate the statement.
“Suuure you are.” Sandra gave him a mock-noogie, only to realize that the little boy was staring at her like she was made of pure awesome and held his hands out to her. She blinked a bit, then picked Adam up.
Adam, for his part, surprised everyone as he carefully inspected Diamond’s scales on her face and arm, then craned his neck to look at her tail which replaced her legs. Apparently deciding that it was good he grinned at her. “You’re pretty. Can I get down please?”
“Uh. Um… Thank you?” The confused snake-girl set the boy down and he promptly scooted behind her to follow her long tail to the tip, poking at it, then coming up the other side and sitting on the thick portion just behind where her body hit the ground and lying forward like he was riding a racehorse, feet off the ground.
-He wants a ride.- Razorback signed, chuckling.
“Just go with it, Sandra, Adam’s decided you’re like Razor.” Spider chuckled.
Sandra slithered experimentally, giving a few thrusts with her tail, and discovering that Adam’s body didn’t interfere, then started moving again as Jack led the lot of them towards the remote campsite. Adam, of course, was giggling the whole time.
“Reminds me of my little brother, Zach.” Joe Turner smiled.
“Yeah, he really does, doesn’t he?” Sandra chuckled. “Remember that one time we kidnapped him to the pool that day?”
“Shit yeah. You, me and Matt carried him what, a quarter mile with him struggling and giggling like a lunatic?”
“You all sound like you had fun back home,” Caitlin commented idly.
Sandra nodded sadly. “I think it’s only a matter of time before Matt has to run too.”
“Mom and Dad are keeping an eye on Matt, watching for signs whenever they can. Best we can do.” Jericho sighed.
“If he manifests and he has to run, I’ll get Carson to turn me loose to go retrieve him.” Caitlin was still hauling the three Chute packs like they weighed nothing.
“Why would Carson do that?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve gone into a hot area to drag someone out.”
“One of these days you’re going to have to explain these cryptic comments.” Diamondback smirked. “I’d say you were one of those cops they put in High Schools to pass as students given some of your humor and commentary, but they try to pass as normal. You suck at normal.”
Caitlin stopped for a second, considered, then shook her head. “Yeah, it’s not like I have anything to lose at this point. I’ll tell you all what’s up when I’m ready. The tats just made my life a lot less complicated, believe it or not.”
“I figured,” Joe nodded, “You’re exploding a lot less.”
“I spy, with my little eye, several Americans and one Australian family searching for a missing child.” Spider pointed at the figures near the campsite. “Shall we go meet your parents?”
Sandra steeled herself and slid forward with the little boy, who weighed next to nothing against her exemplar form’s strength, clinging to her tail like a gecko, enjoying the odd, undulating ride that was nothing like being on Jack’s back at all.
Jack’s mother was skinny as a rail with strawberry blonde hair and the look of someone who constantly worried, while his father actually looked like he was someone who worked out constantly, his sandy, blonde hair was at odds with his dusky skin and part-native features. Little Adam took after his mother more than anything else.
The two hesitated only slightly before giving Jack hugs and welcoming him home. Even Caitlin could tell that their fear wasn’t of Jack, but fear for him. Their hesitation was marked by guilt and worry. Being empathic allowed Diamondback to cheat a lot, and she quashed an unconscious and unworthy stab of jealousy towards her raptor-like friend.
Joe and Sandra were engrossed in a family group hug with Joe’s mother, father and eight-year-old brother. Jericho’s mother looked like the stereotypical “professional black woman” in many ways. Her hair was shoulder-length, and her clothing was clean and stylish, even for a vacation. His father was skinny as a rail, and only slightly taller than his wife. Were it not for the short hair and very different, friendlier face he would have reminded Caitlin of Worm’s wiry form.
Caitlin would have felt left out had the whole scene not reminded her more of the Parents’ Day get-togethers at the school.
Jericho, of course went first. “Guys and gals, these are my folks, Edith and Nathan Turner, and my little brother Zachary.” He actually signed along as he introduced his family for the benefit of the thirteen-year-old Zach, who was wearing what looked to be an older-style hearing aid that obviously had minimal effect on the boy.
Caitlin and Spider politely shook hands and accepted a hug from the insistent Mrs. Turner before turning to Jack.
-My family, Debra and Kiernan, and you nerds all know Adam.- Jericho translated perfectly, and Jack’s dad gave a wry look.
“Still a smartass with every statement, are we boy?”
Jack looked at Jericho as though he’d been betrayed at Joe’s perfect translation, looked sheepishly at his father, then unabashedly and rapidly nodded his head with a toothy, predator grin.
“And that explains why they get on well. Joe couldn’t ever say hello without being a wiseass about it.” Mama Turner gave her son a scolding look.
“Me?” Jericho asked. Then frowned and tried again. “Who me?” His innocent face failed utterly so he opted for “Moi?”
“You’re lucky I love you, Joseph Turner.”
“Does this mean I still have to feed him?” Nathan Turner gave his son the gimlet eye only to be popped in the arm by his wife.
“If you don’t I’ll start cooking the family dinners.”
“Feeding the boy till he turns thirty, gotcha.”
She popped him in the arm again.
Spider grinned. “Much as I love the byplay, I have to scoot. I promised my mum once I got settled I’d jet off to Cairns to be with the family.”
“Well it was good to meet you, Spider. Hope to see you again, soon.” Nathan Turner smiled.
“Bye Koala.” The Outcasts invoked her hated codename all at once.
“Oh you right rotten...” She wasn’t able to finish her tirade as Adam hugged her leg.
“Bye Koala,” the little boy said.
She hugged the boy and gave the outcasts a mock-glare. “I’ll get you all for this you know.”
“Promises, promises.” Diamondback buffed her nails on her shirt idly with a fangy grin.
Spider shook her head wryly and hit the control on her watch, causing her armor to rematerialize from its dimensional pocket around her, then bounded into the sky, letting the disc-shaped gravity plates carry her on her way.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to things like that, no matter how many times I have seen it,” Debra watched the girl fly away. “Come on then we should all get back to camp.”
As the families went back to camp, Diamondback was so very caught up in the conversation and reacquainting herself with her surrogate family that she missed a phantom tearing sensation on her lower body that left no physical wounds.
Caitlin sat up late, watching the fire die quietly. All of her friends were asleep, and she was left to her own thoughts. Not all of them were good thoughts, but the instances of crying when she thought of Cat were fading, even if she still felt hollow inside.
There was a nagging feeling in the back of her skull, the feel and sight of the currents in the air, which she’d learned to identify as the magic flowing through the world, were wrong here, weakened and yet not, spiralling oddly even if naturally. The best way to describe it to herself was akin to scar tissue. She got up, and started to wander towards the great stone mound that marked Uluru, a place most Americans only knew as Ayer’s Rock.
It was odd, and she followed a spiraling path along the outskirts of the area twice, coming inward, slowly, careful to note the markers, Jack told her about earlier, which denoted areas taboo to wander into. Caitlin was hardly the most spiritual person in the world, but she wasn’t anti-spiritual. She honestly preferred not to shit in the wheaties of the native cultures that were gaining more and more recognition as time passed onwards.
She’d been to Australia a few times before. The laid-back people reminded her of home, and she always got a feeling of disappointed indulgence of the ignorant when people not of their culture went about as if they were still back in the states. The dusky, native people were almost invariably laid back, but passionate about whatever they did. It had been hard not to come to like them in the past.
But that was a different life.
There were actual wards on the markers ahead. The place cordoned off by subtle magics was being blocked from most of the essence flows of the rest of the desert, and Uluru itself. This was the place that was getting her twitchiness going on. The cordon was wide, and familiar. There was no mistaking that whatever it was, it called out to her. But she couldn’t go in without deliberately tromping over someone else’s sacred or taboo spaces.
“Walking alone at night near Uluru isn’t always as safe as tourists think.” The voice came from nowhere, but the words were delivered with such quiet and easy tone that they simply alerted her to the man, several meters away, rather than making her jump out of her skin. “You, however, aren’t a normal tourist, are you?”
Caitlin turned and looked at the older man, who was shorter than her six-foot frame, with weathered skin and short-cropped hair going gray. “Not that I could hide it. I think I saw all the markers and stayed off the taboo spots. My friend Jack told me how to pick them out.”
“You respected the ones that matter. Not all of the markers are something anyone can see. So why come here? Most anyone who steps near this place feels repelled rather than drawn.”
“This place feels familiar.” Caitlin breathed. “It’s like I should know it, but I’ve never seen it before?”
“Well, since I suppose you are a mutant that makes you tied to a spirit of some kind, one whom is of stone made flesh. You are not the one I would have expected to come here.”
Caitlin gave the man a careful, second look. The currents flowed through him. She could see and feel him gathering essence almost as if it were old habit, then storing it on the ancient, rough, walking stick he carried. She nodded to him.
“I’d jaw at you about the essence flows here, but I’m about as novice at the knowledge as you come.” She pointed at the invisible border she’d stopped at. “All I know is that blocks most of the flows here, just not why.”
“If you listen, I could tell you a story, but you don’t seem the type who hears the whispers of the dream around us, or see the spirits.” His voice and demeanor weren’t that of judging, but understanding.
“If you’d asked me six months ago, I’d likely have just smiled, nodded and walked away.” She looked at the old man carefully. “I’ve had a few things happen in my life that forced my views into a larger world.”
“I take it this wisdom has come at a cost of pain.” He held a hand up. “You are like an open book. You dress like a young person, but your posture, words, tone and inflection tell me that you’re older than you pretend to be.”
Caitlin smirked. “You could say that.” She took a few steps forward, away from the boundary marker and held out a hand. “You can call me Caitlin. Since I can’t really go any further, I should probably head back to the camp.”
He took her hand and nodded. “I am Kuparr. I’m one of the ones who keep a finger on the pulse of the dream here. But I disagree, you can go further, you just choose not to in respect for my culture’s taboos. I came here tonight because I was told that I would meet someone who might cleanse Uluru of this particular scar. If you feel a connection, then you are probably the one I am looking for.”
“Ok I’ll bite. I want to know. If you say we can pass through, lead the way.”
“You trust easily.”
“I really don’t. I just know that this is important, whatever it is.”
“Fair enough. If you will follow me then, I will show you the safe path to the gates that cannot open.”
The path Kuparr tread made no logical sense, whatsoever. It was a spiraling, overlapping, nonsensical path that would have had Caitlin rolling her eyes had she not seen how the currents flowed around them, cutting a tunnel of energy as she recognized a ritual. As they walked, light shone through, and the sun seemed to rise without lighting the sky, standing beside the moon and stars in an impossible vista guarding the great red rock which had the feeling of nothing so much as a great being guarded in eternal slumber while the rest of creation was born of her dreams.
“Modern popular culture calls this the dreamtime, accurate and not, but it is so much more. Coming here physically is impossible without one’s essence being ignited and lit like a beacon. Even among the spiritual elders, very few could muster the spark needed. You have enough for both of us.”
“Should I be worried here?”
“No,” the man shook his head. “This place is safe, sacred. Dark things do not come here. The only thing which scars the land here is a place carved from the dream when courts of things greater than men ruled this world.”
“Five-Fold Court.” Caitlin muttered ruefully. “I’m familiar. There.” She held a hand and the ever-shifting landscape around Uluru froze in place, then pulled back until the building came into focus. The great edifice looked as much cathedral as bunker, a place of burning heat and slagged metal. “I’m not an expert, but this doesn’t strike me as something that belongs here.”
“The Dream contains all that is, was and will be. But that is not natural to it. Someone or something carved that from the dream. It drains the essence of the world slowly, and gives nothing back. The spirits are choked off, and have difficulty coexisting with it, so they hide elsewhen.”
“Son of a bitch, that’s an Artificer Forge.”
“A what?”
Caitlin took a breath, mostly to school the bitterness from her voice. “I don’t know the whole story, or even all of the details, but the Courts you spoke of were presented with a gift. Four wondersmiths that would be granted to them, one for the Sidhe, one to the Undine, one to the Efreet, one for the Earthen Court, whom I don’t know much about. Two male, two female. One of the courts got left out of the gifting, so I imagine that caused some friction. This was a Forge that housed one of the smiths while they worked.”
“All this for one person?”
“Seems like a waste to me too.” Caitlin walked straight to the gate, then turned to the side, following the great, stone walls while her mind filled with the details of the edifice. It was forged from dreams, the stone and metal construction cut from the endless wash of possibility itself, a great rent in the fabric of the world. It was anchored from within, the essence-forge drawing power. So long as the flame burned hot, the forge would burn on.
Caitlin stopped at a piece of blank wall, then traced a spiral pattern on the wall, and the stone drew back on seams cut into the stone that were too fine for human eyes to see. “Come on, I know how to remove this thing.”
“What is it?”
“One of the places where some of the greatest artifacts, recovered from the past, were forged.” She looked around at the edifice, a monument to creatures too powerful for the world to fully contain, and saw the many forms of Gaia’s daughters, for the first time, cut into statuary and murals in the walls of the massive edifice.
They were beautiful, they were terrible, they were literal monsters and gods all at once. Each one of the cathedral walls, ceiling and floor told the tale of one of the four great beings who ruled the Center Court in their Mother’s stead. The scenes on the wall changed and shifted with each glance, each told a different story of the lives of the four great beings, and in the end, how they were murdered for their power.
“Who were they?” Kuparr was almost reverent.
“Terra-Valeria, Firstborn.” Caitlin easily read the long-dead script on the wall as she pointed to the wall on the left side of the corridor. “Mother of the Mind, giver of life, the aspect of the Court from whom all natural life came.”
Caitlin looked at the right, “Terra-Verdanis, Secondborn, the shaper of the world, mother of the plants and the natural order of the world.”
Underfoot was the odd one. “Terra-Kashaly, Thirdborn, the aspect of force, she was the glue that held the court together, representing the forces that held the world itself together.”
“Terra-Nocturne, Fourthborn.” Caitlin looked at the alternating figure of light and darkness. “She seems to be the light and dark, good and evil, idealism and pragmatism, like a coin flipped. She represents duality.”
“I have never heard of them.”
“Neither have I, and I have memories going back to the Five-Fold Court that I can’t always filter out. I can just read the script. Whatever killed them, it looks like it did the job very, very thoroughly.” Caitlin looked at the end and saw the pendant, the crystal, the seed, and the fawn each of their remaining power and spirits had been bound to.
“How powerful were they?”
“From the looks of things? Powerful enough that no one likely wants to see them return.”
“That is a sobering thought.”
Caitlin shook her head. “The Five-Fold Court is dead. I wish people would quit trying to dredge up the corpse and revive it.” She led on into the great Forge shop, past the entrance.
It was beyond massive, seemingly containing enough space to fill several aircraft hangars, and carrying more imagery of the four daughters. Great beasts of all kinds decorated the walls, the servitors of the earth court were ancient, primal. The statue of Terra-Kashaly in one corner showed a woman with many arms, caressing two raptor-like beasts as though they were favored pets. The deadly beasts lacked the spines and spikes that Razorback had, but they looked like him.
“This place gives me the Heebie-Jeebies.” Caitlin shuddered at the memories of uncountable hours laboring at that which the Nine Queens commanded. The forges were just similar enough to trigger the memories.
“Would it be right to destroy this?”
“This was a place to hold a favored slave.” Caitlin spoke firmly, and bluntly. “This place is a strategic location and your people will lose Uluru if anyone finds out about this place and how to access it. This is a supernatural ICBM factory that was used to build weapons of war to battle things few people can stand up to without going mad at the very sight.”
“We cannot have that. What will you do?”
“Let me see if there’s anything useful in here that my guys can use at school, or you all can use to keep Uluru protected. I intend to burn the rest.”
“How much damage will that do?”
“To Uluru? Should just cause this place to wither and fade away like a popped pimple.”
“I think we can live with that.”
It took Caitlin less than two hours to find everything useful in the place. This Forge had largely been wasted on the four sisters, who could do most of what they needed without artifice. An armband shaped like a black-metal serpent with Orichalcum eyes, a smoky, black octagon of seeming obsidian and a small box from whence came a haunting voice, singing a lullaby that calmed even Caitlin’s emotions, were what she stuffed into a pouch and strapped to her back.
“Why those things?” Kuparr asked. “From what you told me of the rest, those are the least-valuable.”
“My friend Joe built armor to save lives. The adamant Octagon would let him shield wounded people better, and not break. The serpent is an unbonded familiar spirit, in a physical form, intended to advise and guide a child into their full powers, and I think Sandra could use an advisor who didn’t judge her on her appearance. The music box may help Razor keep his temper when he needs it.”
“Nothing for you?”
“I don’t want anything from this place. If I need something, I’ll make it myself.”
“Then as far as the councils are concerned I saw you bring those three things in yourself.”
“Thanks. I didn’t give you a few items because… the time for such things has passed. Or there’s no possible way we could argue they were “cultural artifacts” that your people could simply claim. The stylings are all wrong.”
“Our culture is not about things you hold in hand, though I thank you for the ones that might help us keep Uluru safe.”
Caitlin nodded, then picked up a massive Orichalcum sledgehammer and pointed. “Keep the door open. I’ll be out in a moment.”
“As you say.”
Caitlin went to the four pillars, each bearing a face and form of the Sisters, then in reverse-order of their birth, shattered the base of the pillars before tossing the incalculably valuable hammer aside to vanish when the edifice was reclaimed and annihilated by the surrounding dream. She walked to the forge-fire and reached into the naked flame with a bare hand and closed her fist, snuffing it like a candle.
Caitlin turned to the door, picked up her three prizes, and left the Forge to die.
December 19th, 2007, Uluru Resort
Sandra felt wrong as she woke up, and felt like she was twisted in knots, her arms and tail felt constricted, like she was wrapped in cloth wrong. Her tail was coiled under and over her and through itself uncomfortably as though she had been thrashing in her sleep. The feeling was not pleasant and she felt tearing as she tried to pull herself upright.
“Please, not shedding, not again, not now.” Her grumbled voice didn’t carry far enough for anyone to hear, but her inspection of herself found no signs of the glassy, glazed scales that would indicate she was getting too big for her own skin.
She popped open the tent and dragged her upper body out with her arms, letting her tail uncoil itself naturally, grumbling and snarking to herself as she slithered across the warm sands to the fire pit.
She found Caitlin in quiet conversation with an older gentleman she didn’t recognize. She would have hidden herself if he didn’t happen to look over at that particular moment and do a double-take.
“Well now, that’s something you don’t see every day.” he recovered quickly, much more quickly than she would have expected.
“I would hope not,” Sandra snarked wryly, “If there were too many like me there’d be a major confusion factor in the dating and modeling scene.”
“Like how do we market all of these now-useless pairs of pants?” Caitlin chuckled. “Sandra, meet Kuparr. Kuparr, meet Sandra. She’s the shy one I told you about.”
“Good to meet you Sandra. Your friend here didn’t tell me you also were blessed with odd physiology.”
“Blessed, yup, there’s the word I’d use.” She grumbled and coiled up near the fire and tasted the eggs and bacon Caitlin was skilleting over the fire as she spoke.
“You’re going to find most people a lot less reactive to your appearance than I imagine they are in the states,” Kuparr commented and tossed her a pair of hard-boiled eggs. “Cautious, yes, but after Rager’s Night most people are actively trying to be more forgiving of ragers and the GSD. Both are common on this continent, probably as common as exemplars elsewhere.”
“Ouch.”
Caitlin snorted. “Unless you’re dealing with a genuine Humanity Firster, just do your thing. Your behavior is usually as nonthreatening as they come. So you should be able to show your face in public and get service at most shops.”
“That would be a nice change.”
“Why do you think Jack resisted going to Sydney?” Caitlin smiled.
“Big Cities have more to damage, and thus, more outrage when something goes wrong,” Kuparr added.
“So I guess I’m not the worst off you’ve ever seen?”
Kuparr looked at Sandra and shook his head. “No, you aren’t the worst, but you are one of the most… secure?”
“There’s a terrifying thought,” Caitlin cut in. She dropped a pot of eggs and bacon in front of her friend. “Eat up. I’ve been cooking for you and Jack. The rest of us will eat civilized amounts of food.”
“You’re just jealous because I can dance and you’re all left feet.”
“I see you two don’t like to take life as heavily as most others in your situations,” Kuparr noted, still looking at Sandra, skeptically.
“If we took life too seriously…” Diamondback made a gun with her fingers while pointing it at her own head while Caitlin used two fingers for the gun barrel, grinned insanely and pushed the “gun barrel” deep into her mouth.
The old man laughed.
“Ugh, why are you people awake at this ungodly hour?” Joe grumbled as he stumbled out of his tent, searching desperately for the pot of coffee Caitlin was already holding out to him.
“It’s ten O’Clock, doofus, time to be awake.”
“Sandra, I love you, but it’s vacation time. Being awake before noon when there’s no work, and no school, is sacrilege.”
“Shut up and eat your breakfast.” Caitlin shoved a plate of eggs, bacon and grits at her friend as Razor came sniffing out of the tent as well, taking the other pot of rapidly-cooked dead thing and digging his snout in.
“You’re going to wreck my…”
“If you say diet, I’m going to leap over this fire pit and slap you.” Caitlin pointed a spoon at him like it was a lethal weapon. “You’re starting to look like you are trying to become a football player.”
“Huh? No way.”
Sandra reached over to her friend and grabbed his baggy clothing and pulled tight, showing that Caitlin wasn’t wrong, and Diamond was clutching a double-handful of fabric behind him. “Time to get some new clothing, butthead.”
Razorback pointed and made a pair of whooping shrieks that sounded suspiciously like “Ha-Ha!”
Kuparr watched the interplay with an amused smirk on his face.
Jericho poured himself a cup of coffee only to have Jack steal it.
“This means war.” Jericho launched himself at Razor with a whooping battlecry that he’d learned from a cartoon, starting an impromptu wrestling match that had everyone rapidly awake, worried and laughing all at once.
They practically had to drag Sandra bodily to the resort. The nervous, serpentine Whitmaniac tried every single excuse to get out of going to a public place filled with baselines as she could. No one was having it. Even Jack, who normally respected her worries, firmly took a hand while Joe took the other and they hauled her between them.
“This is a bad idea.” No one needed to be an empath to get that Sandra was pushing towards the border of a panic attack.
“Sandra, breathe, relax and trust.” Mama Turner’s voice was like pure magic to the panicky girl as she let herself be led while her surrogate mom gave her quiet encouragement.
Caitlin ranged off to the side, watching for any sign that someone might actually take offense to several obvious mutants walking towards the five-star resort that was one of the most popular tourist attractions in the country. She noted the security guys who were in the area because they weren’t as laid back as the locals, nor as antsy as the tourists. Not all of them were pros and combat veterans, clearly, but that wasn’t necessary in a place where the worst incident would likely be a loud and obnoxious Texan who needed to be told to calm down and mollified with some minor pittance of customer service.
Two of the Security workers in official capacity did approach, did do a double-take at Sandra and Jack, but said absolutely nothing about their appearances. They simply walked up to Caitlin. “Miss, is that red band…”
Caitlin just nodded. “Come on Jack, let’s go get acquainted with the Security team.”
Razor chirped and handed the hand he was guiding Sandra with to Mama Turner. -We’ll catch up.-
The pair of them stepped up to the security guys and Caitlin held a hand out. “Lead the way, we aren’t interested in causing a freak-out.”
“Thanks, lot of people don’t quite get what a red band means in Australia.”
“Means me and Razorback here are providing friendly warning that poking us with sharp objects is not safe. Neither of us have any verbal triggers that we are aware of. It’s stress and violence-related for the both of us.”
The two men visibly relaxed. The one speaking nodded. “Then this should be simple enough, thanks for being courteous enough to give the warning.”
Razor chirped and pointed at his armband and Caitlin’s then pointed at the security man who was talking and pantomimed a circle.
“He can’t talk.” Cait looked at the two men. “He said something during the plane ride out about needing to get local versions. These are ones we used back in school to let people know we can pop if poked.”
“Right. That we can arrange, if you will follow us.”
The two Outcasts nodded and followed, giving the two men enough space so they wouldn’t feel crowded. They were doing a damn fine job keeping their nervousness in check, confronted with a pair of Honest-to-God ragers, but there wasn’t any good reason to test their bearing.
The pair left a shaking Diamondback, who was enduring the disbelieving stares of more than a few tourists, most of whom were Australian and giving more sympathetic looks to the panic-attack-having GSD girl, and only a few nervous looks from non-locals. The Turners, Joe and the Carlyle family all worked at coaxing Sandra towards her destination, telling her that everything was fine.
Caitlin and Razor, however, the other two obvious oddballs in the group, owned it. At least, they appeared to. Jack didn’t even give the wild-eyed looks of a few tourists so much as a second glance, and Caitlin studiously ignored them as they followed the two Security Guards to their destination. Most of the eyes weren’t glued to their odd features, but to the red bands on their arms.
When they were safely in the Security office the two were politely offered their choice of coffee, tea or soda and given a rarely-used clipboard of paperwork to fill out. When they had done so they put away their Whateley-issued Ultraviolent bands and put on the plain, red bands with the logo of the Australian Paranormal Investigation Organization. The API band meant that the pair had taken the time to register as ragers, and were protected by Australian law.
Anyone provoking a known rager to attack in Australia would share the fate of the rager. All of the property damage, all of the injuries, all of the deaths, they would be considered responsible for. They would automatically receive the same sentence if the rager was tried and convicted for crimes in the nation, sharing the rager’s fate. If the rager was taken down before they could do any significant damage, “Provoking a Paranormal Berserker” carried a mandatory sentence of five years in prison. PPB convictions could make it incredibly hard to find work with anyone who wasn’t a Humanity First! enthusiast.
This was, of course, assuming the person provoking survived their egregious mistake.
“Alright you two, I have to say thanks for being so cooperative. Most kids your age grumble a lot more about having to do this.” The guard wasn’t showing his previous level of tense.
Caitlin shrugged. “It’s something we have to live with. If we want friends, family and bystanders to feel safe around us, so be it. Besides, we got being awesome as a side benefit.” She grinned and put a hand on Jack’s shoulder.
Jack nodded frantically in agreement.
“Well, given that everything’s filled out right, you two have the run of the resort. If someone does start poking your triggers please remove yourself from the situation and get to one of our security personnel and we will get the mess taken care of. We’re very proud that we haven’t had any incidents of para violence here at Uluru, and we don’t intend to start now.”
“We’ll do what we can to help you keep that record.” Cait gave a mock-salute and the pair walked out into the hallways without so much as a nervous glance as to what people might think of them.
It took a bit, but they found the spa that the families insisted that everyone visited. Joe was waiting for them at the door and he dragged Razor into the changing areas to help him get changed up without completely shredding his normally-mangled shirts. Caitlin walked into the womens’ area and just picked a locker, stripped down and put a towel over the bikini that Sandra had insisted she have after a good ten minutes of staring at the thing like it would bite her.
Caitlin had gotten by pretending not to notice her body, pulling the bras tight enough that her breasts didn’t bounce much, learning to cope with the wider hips. Her height hadn’t changed much, but her build had, and no matter how blithely she pretended it wasn’t a problem, Caitlin Bardue wasn’t comfortable really considering how she’d changed.
Once she finally managed to work up the gumption to put on the offending garment and really look at herself in the large mirror, she had to shake her head in amazement.
Exemplar bodies really only varied on the one-to-ten scale based on the person doing the rating’s personal tastes. Her skin was pale, but still had the pinkish hue and very slight tanning of a girl who was used to being outside, working. Her body was long, leggy, topping out at just under six feet by fractions of an inch, and built like a girl who lifted weights for the tight tone of an athletic body. The breasts she knew were D-cups intellectually, but on her frame they looked more like C’s or B’s would on shorter women, not enough size to make her look top-heavy. Unfortunately too big for her to be able to completely ignore them entirely.
The metal irises of her eyes and shiny, metallic, black hair that travelled to just below her waist had its own problems as cutting any part of it caused it to rapidly regrow, and the bits removed self-destructed in spectacular light shows of unrestrained magic. Clipping fingernails resulted in similar eruptions.
The girl was lithe, athletic and well-built, almost like she had been sculpted in the image of someone’s idealized, human woman. Adding in the full-body, metallic blue tattoos, and she was obviously not normal, and in many ways exotic. Erik would have rated her an eight, Caitlin was having a hard time really processing that it was her. The lack of biological panic response to the disbelief was more relieving than disconcerting.
In all the time she’d been a woman, Caitlin hadn’t had a period, hadn’t slept, and didn’t have a visceral attraction reaction to anyone since she had changed. She wasn’t more prone to crying, and she could take or leave the close contact, hugging and such with less discomfort than she had as Erik, but not with the natural enthusiasm of most women she knew.
It took her a few minutes of processing before she remembered that she had told Sandra that she would be there for the girl. She stepped out into the massage area, blithely ignoring the stares from more than a few women, many of whom had that “I hate you for looking that good” expression that she’d come to recognize over time, and hunted down a nineteen-foot long serpent with a young woman attached to it at the hips.
Poor Diamondback was lying face-down on a series of mats, arms crossed under her, hiding her face as Caitlin settled down next to her. The girl’s towel she’d had wrapped around her hips was opened at the back, revealing nothing but smooth, serpentine trunk where her ass should be. She was shivering a bit, and not from a chill when Caitlin settled a hand on her shoulder.
“Hey Sandra, relax a bit. I’m here, and I’ve always got your back.” Cait saw Mama Turner and Mrs. Carlyle watching Sandra from a pair of massage tables with slightly worried expressions until Caitlin came in and dropped to the floor next to her friend.
“Thank you.” Sandra looked over at Cait and gave a wan smile. “I’ve never been in public without someone shrieking about the monster.”
“Well if they call me a monster, they’re right. I’ll eat them.” Caitlin grinned.
She was rewarded with a more genuine smile from her friend. “Thanks Cait. You here for the massage?”
“Sure, I’m made out of rock, how good can it be?” The tattooed girl rolled her eyes and grinned.
“Dunno, I’ve never had one.”
“Same.”
Caitlin needn’t have worried. When the women doing the massage arrived, she found the experience far more painful in the early parts as the woman explained that her back was completely clenched up. “Board back” was what they called it. Diamond giggled quite a bit as she watched her friend go through the painful process of having her kinks worked out, even as she had her own strange experience.
The woman helping Diamondback had brought a bucket of sand, soaked in mineral oil, and was very thoroughly using it to rub down Sandra’s scales. The sand scoured out all of the scale creases and apparently felt amazing to the girl as she began to relax into the sensation. Both of the women working on the two obvious mutants were incredibly skilled, and utterly professional. If either was uncomfortable working with either of them, neither showed it. There wasn’t much to say, and Caitlin caught Debra Carlyle smirking knowingly at the antsy, nervous, and horrendously insecure Sandra.
“Don’t look now, smug mother alert.”
When Sandra looked up, with a sleepy, dreamy expression, she realized that the two mothers were watching her with knowing looks, and Sandra groaned as the woman working her way down her serpentine back found knotted muscles she didn’t even know existed before.
“They can be smug all they want,” the serpentine GSD girl moaned in agony, then relief as a particularly painful knot released its hold on her tail. “This place is amazing. Maybe someday…” She left the wistful comment unfinished.
“Ow, shit. Oh that actually feels good,” Caitlin winced as her own back gave up it’s unknown torture-hold upon her life by inches. “I think we can safely say, best vacation ever.”
The two girls managed to somehow endure a full hour of massage, then the moms dragged them in to get their hair and nails done. The two were too zoned out and relaxed to argue much. Caitlin didn’t even have it in her to threaten the woman doing the work with destruction, and wound up with blood-red finger and toenails after she warned them that trimmings could be dangerous. Both she, and Sandra had their hair pulled up on the sides and clipped in place with rather elegant styles that matched their normally-long and unrestrained hair.
The men and women met up and after a bit of coaxing, and invocations of Christmas spirit, Mama Turner and Mama Carlyle got their way, and both Sandra and Caitlin wound up sporting very nice dresses, Sandra in blood-red, Caitlin in emerald green when all was said and done. Sandra almost glittered, her scales having been sand-scoured and polished with mineral oil left her looking vibrant and very, very vivid in coloration.
“How the hell did I let them talk me into this?” Caitlin said nervously, her turn to feel antsy and vulnerable.
“Same way they got me. They hit us with an amazing massage and got us dolled up before we regained our senses.” Diamondback was fidgeting with her dress while they waited for the guys to catch up.
“As if we’d get you in there any other way,” Mrs. Turner gave Sandra a smug look, and adjusted the girl’s dress so it actually didn’t look or feel awkward on her odd body.
“And Jack told us you’d probably fight us with knives if we simply dragged you into a salon,” Mrs Carlyle made similar adjustments to Caitlin. “We had to do something, because neither of you deserves to just be wallflowers tonight.”
“Help Sandra, they’ve assaulted us with class,” Caitlin deadpanned.
“We never stood a chance.”
Neither did the boys. Jericho, Jack, Zach and Adam stopped dead in their tracks upon seeing the two Outcast girls in their Christmas Eve attire. It was bizarre seeing “Crazy Joe Turner” wearing proper slacks and a suit jacket, and somehow even Razorback’s suit managed to not look obliterated.
Both Caitlin and Diamond were blazing bright red, blushing for the same reason, each not knowing that the other was just as uncomfortable being dolled up as she was. Joe recovered first, and took the lead his folks would expect, and offered Sandra his arm. Jack followed suit with Caitlin as the parents paired off with each other and Zach tried to talk with his brother and his friends on the way to the reserved room for a very good dinner.
Dinner, as it turned out, was worth every penny both families had spent on it together. Even Jack, the bottomless pit was sated by all of the amazingly good food that was provided. When the parents retired for the evening, they took the two younger boys with them and left Outcast Corner to sit quietly in the dining room.
“Merry Christmas, ladies, a few days early.” Joe grinned.
“Merry Christmas, guys.” Sandra grinned at Joe.
Caitlin just smiled wistfully, remembering similar nights with friends, family, and a loved one she would never see again. Even Razor caught the tears threatening to pool along the tattooed girl’s eyes.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Joe translated as his reptilian buddy signed.
“I wouldn’t know where to start.” Caitlin smiled and shook her head. “As weird as it’s been for me, I haven’t had many better days in my life.”
“Well, we’ll see.” Joe nodded to Diamond and Jack. “We thought it was time to talk to you about our history, our secrets we’ve kept on campus. You’ve been a good friend, and none of us feel right being cagey around you.”
Caitlin looked at the others, curious, then slowly nodded.
“It’s not like you wouldn’t figure it out sooner or later. You’re learning the sign language, and that’s how we talk about it.” Diamondback looked nervous. “When we manifested, me and Jack… we…”
Razor simply gave Sandra a nod, watching curiously. Caitlin got the impression no matter what secret anyone ferreted out about Jack, he would own it and make it his.
Sandra dug into her purse, an affectation Caitlin had been forced to adopt when the surrogate ‘rents dragged them kicking and screaming into attire without pockets, then withdrew three small photographs. She laid them down on the table carefully one by one.
“This one is Jack, four years ago.” Sandra put down a picture of a little girl who was the spitting image of Debra Carlyle at age eleven, with brown hair, her father’s tanned skin and a yellow sun dress.
Caitlin blinked but let Sandra continue. “This one is me, and this was my brother Matthew.”
Caitlin leaned over and looked at the photos of the twin boys with mussed, reddish-brown hair and roguish grins on their faces. She took in the faces, and looked over at Sandra, ignoring the tiny, soft scales framing her face, and the eyes, or the forked tongue that occasionally poked out when the girl wasn’t paying attention to her instinctively serpentine behavior. She looked like she could have been the supermodel twin sister of either of the twin boys when consideration for her inhuman features was eliminated.
Caitlin leaned back and looked at Sandra, then at Jack. The pieces of the puzzle that were Diamondback’s insecurities just seemed to fall neatly into place, not all of which were congruent with her GSD body image. “Well, that explains quite a lot.” She rolled the words around on her tongue. “Except for you, you don’t have a girly bone left in your body,” she said pointedly at Razor.
He just responded with a predatory, fangy grin and shook his head.
“You’re taking this remarkably calmly.” Joe didn’t quite look at her, but she knew he was scrutinizing.
“Would you believe me if I said you two were hardly the first two I’ve ever met in your boat?” She rolled her thoughts around, remembering Zenith, and Nikki Reilly, among a smattering of others she’d either been confided in by, or figured out. Almost all of them were good kids.
Sandra let out a breath she hadn’t been aware that she was holding. “Oh thank God.” The empathic snake-girl felt absolutely no disgust, fear, hatred or any other negative emotion save caution rolling off her friend.
Caitlin took a long breath, then held out a hand to Sandra, and one to Jack. When each of them took the offered hands, she smiled. “I don’t care who you were, the only thing that matters to me is who you are. Who you choose to be is what matters, and I’m not going to judge you. God only knows I’ve no room to judge anyone.”
“Thank you.” Sandra gripped the hand tightly and Razor let out an amazed chirp.
Caitlin stood up and stretched a little, then looked around the room. “I was debating what to tell you, how much I can tell you, what Carson might skin me for telling you.” She popped her neck nervously.
“Hey, you told us about that artificer shit, how much worse can it get?” Joe looked amused.
“I’m older than I look. Diamond wasn’t far off when she said campus cop. Only in my case, teacher.” Caitlin looked at each in turn. “I had a late-stage burnout because I got charged up with too much mystic art mumbo jumbo and blew up on one of the ranges.”
She could have used a shovel, comfortably, to pick up the three dropped jaws. “You two aren’t the only two who’ve had their bodies rebuilt in a manner not of their choosing. The ash pile at my little ritual site had everything from my past life that had a meaningful memory connected to it. My truck, my uniforms, miscellaneous belongings, and the engagement ring I gave to Cat McQuiston a little under a year before Halloween night.”
Diamondback put two and two together, filling in the blanks with a rapidity Caitlin would have thought impossible were it not for her association with the quietly brilliant girl. “You were put in the student body to keep people from twigging to the Artificer. No one’s going to look for a mystic construct in the student body of a school.”
“You got it in one.”
Joe shook his head. “Erik Mahren, the Range Bastard. All along and… Holy shit. Why didn’t you pop back up on the radar once you got the tats done? You said once they were finished no one else could do it to you.”
Caitlin smirked as Joe invoked her favorite nickname. “It’s not that simple, wish it was. Now I’m, rejuvenated isn’t the word because I wasn’t that old, but I’m orders of magnitude stronger, faster, tougher. I see Essence currents, and I can force magic to do what I want, kind of like you build things Joe. I just do the Magic Devisory, where you do scifi. Add to that my old meds that keep me from popping my lid don’t work anymore?”
Razor signed at them, Diamond translated. “Razor says you have to learn to be a new person and adapt to new powers, just like us.”
“Believe it or not, this is one of the reasons I like you all. You think, you use your brains, and you don’t judge.” Caitlin looked at Sandra ruefully. “You think me figuring you out was inevitable, sure, but that road goes both ways.”
“You suck at being a teenager, and a girl now that I think about it.” Joe grinned, “You walk like you couldn’t decide if you wanted to be a ballerina or a berserker when you grew up.”
Caitlin rolled her eyes and cranked the invisible wheel to extend her middle finger at Joe, grinning.
“You do realize that I’m going to make you take over for the Team Tactics course next semester,” he grinned.
“The hell you say.” Caitlin shook her head. “I’ll help with tactics, but you’re the leader here, Jericho. I’m not a good person to lead teenagers in the sims. I’m like Razor, pop a gasket and I’m gone, no more leader. Never mind you’d just learn to do what I tell you, when I tell you, not actually how to beat Gunny at his own games.”
Razor signed again, forcing Cait to try and puzzle out what the hell he was trying to say until she realized he was pantomiming drums.
“What is he trying to rope me into?”
Sandra smirked. “Razor suggests that Joe accept a compromise. He stays leader, you provide advice and tactical knowledge, and you join them in music class and learn to do drums.”
Razor signed again.
“What do you mean, us?” Sandra watched Razor sign again. “Don’t I get a choice in this?”
“No.” Jericho said as Razor shrieked and signed, then both grinned.
Caitlin shook her head. “You do realize that neither of them are going to let you off the hook if I agree to this silliness.”
“I don’t think either of them is going to let us off the hook, ever. They’ve been hounding me since the beginning of the school year.”
Both boys nodded. “She speaks wisdom,” Jericho said.
“So you’re telling me if I don’t agree to be your tactics guru and try to learn an instrument for your thornie band you’ll harass me about it at least once a day and demand I participate in music?” Caitlin gave the boys a long look.
Razor pretended to look thoughtful, then nodded his head vigorously.
“This is blackmail,” Sandra gave Joe a narrow-eyed look.
“I prefer to think of it as an irritation incentive. Like when you ask the parents for something and they finally give it to you to get you to shut up.” The blind boy was grinning, knowing full well he’d already won.
“Can I give him detention?” Caitlin asked blandly.
“I have no issues, but you’ll have to clear it with Carson.”
“Could be problematic.”
“Do we have any other options?”
“Wedgies come to mind.”
“Oooh, I haven’t done that since I became an exemplar…”
Sandra tried to sleep, but it wasn’t working. She felt an itchy, taut sensation across her body, like being wrapped in gauze from head to tail tip, and it was driving her nuts. She felt like she was bound up in one of Joe’s damn glue bombs, and she wasn’t sticking to anything.
The worst part was her face. She couldn’t see anything constricting her vision but she could feel it pulling her face against her skull, muffling her breath, making it hard to sense anything. She tasted something akin to cobwebs.
As she scratched, her fingers were catching in… something, hooking on something she couldn’t see but not quite having the force to tear it away. As she awkwardly flailed and half-slithered out of her tent, she felt something give as she scratched at the sensation on her face, and stopped, frozen as she heard an audible sound like wet cloth ripping, or flesh.
A blind moment of panic expected bleeding, but there was no pain. In her hand, trailing to her cheeks was a handful of frayed, silvery threads, like she’d had spiders cocooning her. And she could only see it with her right eye. Her left eye saw nothing but the darkened campsite and the smouldering remains of the cooking fire. The sensation brought her to full attention, as she brought both of her “personalities” to bear on the problem, working out the details with her twinned attention spans.
A bit calmer, Sandra dug her nails into the phantom threads and began tearing, forcibly snapping the frayed things until she could see. She immediately wished she couldn’t.
Uluru went insane. The vibrant daylight burned with the night sky and all the stars in a kaleidoscopic nightmare of sensation as the world around her heaved and shifted even as the ground beneath her adhered to the laws of gravity and held her upright. She almost threw up, but managed to hold it back.
Sandra closed her eyes, and her attention divided. She watched the darkness of the real world, while Ryan watched the unnatural light of whatever it was pounding at the borders of creation. Her view of reality divided, superimposed upon itself impossibly as the GSD exemplar focused on the problem at hand, tearing away all of the threads binding her body that Ryan could see but she could not.
The webs seemed to take forever to peel apart and unravel. The knife laid out near the campfire couldn’t touch them, but she found that Caitlin’s odd, obsidian knife could be seen by both herself and her other side. She took a breath and pulled the blade from its’ sheath and slid it down her body, sharp end up, slicing through the gods-cursed webs that held her bound as though the blade were built solely for that purpose.
When she put the blade away and stood, what she saw defied her comprehension. Day and night, heat and cold, joy and bitter anguish all seemed to co-mingle in the very air around Uluru. Midnight had stolen the light, but the sun burned away the darkness as she tried to reconcile the fading, flickering, dancing forms that flickered in her vision like heat shimmers, then faded away to barren sands and red rock. The land was verdant, vibrant, alive with trees and animals and people. But it was barren, brush and the occasional tree broke the landscape around the great mound as her perspective of time literally failed her.
Great beasts charged across the landscape in phantom packs, killing things she could barely perceive, and knew she did not want to see. Four great shadows looked down at her and she wanted to exult, to hide, to flee, to embrace as burning eyes that were not judged her. The pastoral vista burned with unholy fire as time broke and the world itself screamed and cracked into pieces, all of the glorious, beautiful, terrible, monstrous things died in the flash of an instant and were replaced by glorious towers of glass and steel, with nature burning with it rather than in spite of the man-made edifices.
“I see you are awake, and finally unfettered.” Kuparr’s voice called her attention, without startling her, in his easygoing manner. “Your friend knows a thing or two about being unbound. Are you alright?”
Sandra looked at the old man, realizing that she could see him both through her physical, and mind’s eyes. Kuparr was as real to Ryan as he was to her. “What is this? What am I seeing?”
The old man gave a wan smile. “Who knows? Past, present, future. Possibility and the end of hope coexist here. What it is, who is to say, but the sleeping dream of something greater than we.”
“This isn’t the dreamtime…” Sandra gave a skeptical look.
The old man shook his head. “It is a dream for sure, but not the Dreamtime. We remember but the dreamtime, as it is called in english, is long past. Entering the actual Dreamtime would be to see the creation of the world itself. We can no more chase that revelation than one could step into the Book of Genesis and advise God on the creation of Man.”
“Oh…” She looked thoughtful. “What dreams here?”
“I honestly do not know. I’m not even sure if the dreamer itself is aware that it is asleep.” The old man smiled indulgently. “But it is here, and it is very old. Perhaps someday we will know.”
“Is it dangerous to walk here?”
Kuparr nodded. “Very. The fact that you have the presence of mind to ask means you may pass without the Bunyip using you as their tool, or their meal.”
“I thought the Bunyip was a water-demon.”
“Not the Bunyip. Just Bunyip.” He sat by the embers and put more wood down on the pit, stoking the small flame. “Bunyip are many, not one. The things that feed on nightmares, the things that corrupt the flesh, and possess the body, or make trinkets of the soul, all are Bunyip.”
“Demons.”
He nodded, slightly. “This place was once ruled by beings greater than us. Your friend found one of their edifices. She believed it to be a threat to Uluru, and the autonomy of our people here, and destroyed it.”
“She never said…”
“Why should she?” He sat, staring into the flames. “I only tell you this to illustrate a point. The Dream here is strongest, at its’ most powerful. It extends even across the seas to touch the corners of the world, but its influence is not as strong as it once was, and it encompasses all things, both benign and malignant. The dream showed your friend something that had scarred her, badly, so she erased it from existence despite the fact that she could have taken and claimed it with little I could do to stop her. Those scars she carries aren’t healing any time soon.”
“It’s not just what lives in the dream. It’s what the dream can show you.” Sandra looked contemplative as she picked away threads of webbing and tossed them to the fire. She saw nothing but the flame guttered and burped anyway. Ryan saw the flame reach to assault the fibers as though a dying man were offered a last meal before his execution.
“Correct. Everything the dreamer knows, everything she sees past, present and future can be reflected here. This is a safe place, a holy place in many ways. The darkness does not come here except in reflection, old memories adrift in slumber. You’re lucky you unfettered yourself here at Uluru.”
“She?”
“Call me weird, but I get a very motherly vibe from the dreamer. But Mothers can be wrathful.”
“Yeah. Yeah they can.”
“We don’t have a lot of time. I’ve places to be, and things what must be done before I can rest, but I can give you the basics. What do you know of Astral space and Dream Realms?”
“A little. Both can be homes of spirits, Dream Realms are pockets created by minds to cradle them in sleep, or to protect them as they delve into things that for most are mystery.”
He nodded. “Close enough. You’re a child of both worlds now, flesh and spirit. You and me, we exist in both at the same time. If you can figure out the trick, you can move to one or the other, but it never lasts. Your presence is too vivid within the realms of both flesh and spirit to last long solely in either.”
“So what can I do?” For the first time in a very long time, Sandra knew the feeling of heart-seizing terror. Spirits were dangerous when they couldn’t perceive you. When they could put touch to you, the potential became infinitely worse.
“I can show you the basics, give you some tricks to defend yourself. But you’re going to be best off making use of any ability you’ve learned to fight, any magic you might know. You, and your friends have been touched by things you shouldn’t have been. There are things in the Outback not wholly flesh, not completely spirit. You and the Hunter will be able to see them. The others might not. The tattooed girl and the blind kid might have better luck seeing these things.”
“Am I going to be attacked?”
“Maybe, but if we do this right, hopefully we can get you home, without too much scarring.”
“As if my life needed more complication.”
“Life is complication. You need to trust your friends, and let them help you. The others, the families? They aren’t ready for what you are going to see, and they can’t fight the dark things that have left those very faint scars on your blind friend there.”
“Voodoo Wolves.”
“Pardon?”
“Jericho calls them Voodoo Wolves. An amalgam of things here, and outsider blood that shouldn’t be possible. Something called the Bastard…”
“Don’t say that name that way, not with that inflection, not here.” She found her words cut off as the sky dripped blood from the stars, and the sun scoured the world with its fury, seeking the cursed thing. “She knows what that is, and we cannot wake her. The beast which offends her so much is close. It’s here, and not. It tried to kill her heart once, and it’s still recovering from the doom it inflicted upon itself. But we do not dare invoke one near the other, lest they rekindle that old war. Speaking of the Dreamer to the Beast, or the Beast to the Dreamer invites the wrath of both.”
Diamondback blinked, and nodded. “Show me what you can. I’ll fill in the others when they’re awake.”
“Let’s begin then. I’m going to show you how to shield yourself against both sides. It will help with those Voodoo Wolves you speak of. You’re going to see the truth, what they are, and reality isn’t going to force their existence into the comfortable, maddening shells that humans fear. When you must straddle the line between flesh and spirit, they’re much, much worse.”
“I hate my life.”
Kuparr watched the four friends talk after the two boys woke up, and the tattooed girl came back from her explorations of the deserts away from the great rock. He watched as the two families packed up the two 4x4 trucks, one battered and rusted pickup with the four very dangerous children in the back, and one rented SUV with the normal children safely belted in and secure.
They were good children, he thought, a bit rough around the edges, a bit prone to lashing out at the world, but good.
As he reminisced the wind picked up, and the old man never seemed to notice as the wind blew the flecks of sand from his bones, withering his body until even his husk vanished, blown away to rejoin the desert. The Dream that was Kuparr ended, and another began elsewhere.
December 21st, 2006, Darwin, Australia
Caitlin was absolutely shocked by the sheer turnout of people that had come for the Rager’s Night March. There were at least a thousand people here, many of whom wore similar red bands, many of whom bore the signs of obvious GSD on their forms. The number of baselines who were marching compared to the few mutants was staggering.
On December 21st, 1998 one of the worst episodes of mutant violence in the history of Australia had erupted on the streets of Darwin as a Humanity First! Rally targeted the family of one Connor Edwards, a fifteen-year old football (soccer to Americans) player who had recently manifested as a mutant. The boy’s temper was astronomical, and he’d been ejected from the competition teams as his exemplar status made him ineligible for competitive sports.
No one knew what exactly set him off, but they had a good idea. It was here, in front of an empty, nondescript home that Connor’s two-kilometer rampage began, ending in the most horrific, televised battle seen on the news in recent years. “Rager’s Night” was the Fool’s Fight of Australia, though rather than inciting panic and mutant suppression, the parliament of the country had written the laws to punish those who deliberately provoked violence from mutants saddling them with the sins of their target, should they live through the ordeal.
Every rager in the crowd was given a single rose. Caitlin held hers delicately between two fingers, trying not to crush it. Razorback held his carefully, not being flippant and using it like a toothpick like she expected. Both families were here. The Turners and the Carlyles were following the twenty-two red-banded ragers who were on the front line of the procession.
Caitlin could see the twelve blank plates where names might be inscribed on the plaque at her feet. It was the place where the horror had started, and as she read the odd plaque in the road, she understood.
In this place, twelve men and women died, committing an act that would result in the deaths of too many innocent men, women and children.
This was a crime of hate, and they provoked a rager to prove mutants were dangerous.
In doing so, they sentenced their own neighbors to die.
Their names will not be remembered.
They will not become martyrs for their message of intolerance.
Let the only legacy they have be the horror they wrought upon the people of this nation.
They may not have a legacy of infamy that others can share.
Two steps away, Caitlin saw the first plaque.
Amelia Edwards, Mother of Three, age 42.
The second one became visible as the march began and the litany of names every so often joined the first one. As they passed one of the ragers would place a rose on the name of one of the people who fell in the rampage.
Nick Arnassen, age 8. Razorback placed his first rose on the plaque, and everyone avoided stepping on it.
Sharon Hunter, Age 27. Caitlin knelt and set her rose down on the plaque, and stood, moving forward.
The litany of names continued, and when the ragers ran out, another rose was given to each. The victims were remembered, and the slow march finally came to a small park in the intersection square where Erik Andrew Mahren had executed Connor in the street, on camera, and Caitlin diverted and brought Razor with her to a spot with a plaque few might notice, as it was off the beaten path.
The march stopped for a moment and watched as the pair set a pair of roses for Nathan and Bonnie Gellar, who had died in their car, having had the poor luck to drive through a stream of bullets from machineguns intended for a berserker. Their car had been cut to swiss cheese, and they never had a chance to escape before they died. They were collateral damage.
Caitlin prayed that it had been swift.
Three plaques marked unknown assailants who had stopped the rampage and died, their bodies never recovered by the authorities.
Here is where the so-called “Dragonslayers” fell to Rage.
We do not know who they were.
We do not know why they came.
We only wish they could have ended this nightmare peacefully.
A GSD woman with four eyes and tendrils in her hair laid a black rose on the plaque where Blackjack fell.
A normal looking businessman laid the rose at the spot where three Marines were killed in their Hummvee, trying to escape the carnage after delivering the Dragonslayers.
Razorback laid one on the spot PFC Colton, the kibble had fallen.
When everyone gathered around the center of the memorial park, Caitlin knelt and laid her rose on the plaque of Connor Edwards, Desperately trying not to see his face in her mind’s eye through a gunsight, fighting back tears. This was the battle that broke Hijacker so many years ago, and it had been one of his first.
She hated herself for being the survivor all over again. Caitlin couldn’t keep the images away as she whispered a silent prayer that one day she could find forgiveness, as she ran her hand along the plaque marking the place where a child had died by her hand.
People say killing gets easier. They were liars.
Sandra felt the guilt, the shame and the remorse coming from her kneeling friend as the red-bands formed a circle around the crying girl in the center. She moved to help, but Joe caught her arm.
“Let her grieve, Sandra,” Joe said quietly.
“But she’s..”
“I can see. Just… trust me.” The look on the face of her white-eyed, dreadlocked friend was something she’d never seen before, and she nodded.
After a seeming eternity, Caitlin stood and stepped back into the circle of red bands. There were no speeches, no news interviews. There was a long period of silence as twenty-two berserkers and almost a thousand baselines and mutants stood with bowed heads to honor the victims of the tragedy. Every single one of them understood a simple concept: this could be me.
An old man carrying a bible led a prayer for the departed and asked God to watch over his daughter and grandson, wherever they might be. He even prayed for Connor’s killers, never realizing one of them stood within arm’s reach, Asking God to forgive them if their intentions were only to stop the deaths that seemed unending.
When the circle broke, no one could find Caitlin anywhere.
Caitlin arrived back at the Carlyle family’s ranch-style home sometime after midnight. She was still wide awake, but she’d just about cried herself out, reliving the raw guilt she felt at the deaths she’d had a part in during the Rager’s Night nightmare.
If it had been anyone but a child she could have coped, Erik could have coped. She could have made peace with that death, but even in her waking nightmares she realized that any pair of eyes she had ever met could have been the ones staring into her gun barrel on that nightmare night. When she’d still been able to sleep she’d seen those eyes almost every night, and on the worst nights she saw the faces of her students staring up into the barrel of a pistol whenever she’d closed her eyes.
The house was silent, the families were all asleep, only one person had stayed up, waiting for her in the living room. Joe Turner held up a hand when she was about to speak, and waved her to follow. He quietly opened the back door and led her outside. She was half-expecting him to confront her, she didn’t really expect his first question.
“Are you going to be alright, Cait?” She saw concern writ large on his face, as “Crazy Joe” Turner dropped the clown act so he could be there for a friend in need.
“I honestly don’t know.” She shook her head, ruefully. “Eight years and I still have nightmares about that street, can’t forget what happened there.”
“Sandra was worried, she thinks you are blaming yourself for that kid’s death.”
Caitlin opened her mouth, and nothing came out for a moment. She was mentally exhausted, stressed, and just now realizing that she had never really learned to cope with her own demons. She’d never spoken to anyone about what had happened in Darwin, none of them had. Connor Edwards was the nightmare Erik Mahren had prayed would be a delusional nightmare and he’d wake up not feeling like a murderer.
She wanted to say that she couldn’t talk, that she couldn’t violate security, but it was just an excuse to keep from having to think about it for too long. Erik Mahren was officially dead, and nothing could really stop her.
“I wish I could say I wasn’t responsible for that kid’s death.” Caitlin leaned against a thin, odd tree and wished that just once she would be able to let go. “Eight, nine years ago, I was here on a deployment, on my way home when the ship pulled into port. Me and a few others on the ship had survived some hairy shit by the skin of our ass and the dumbest luck anyone could have.”
She closed her eyes and remembered the excitement for being off the boat after too damn long, looking forward to a landfall that wasn’t to go hunt for death incarnate with six others who had gotten too close to the reaper a few too many times.
For his part, Joe just listened silently, letting her compose herself, find words and leaving his normal smartass commentary at the door.
“While everyone was prepping to debark for some drinking and partying the shit hit the fan and people started dying. Me and my crew were pulled up on deck by the colonel and told to grab our shit and get ready to go.” She relived the feeling of going from elated, to terrified in seconds as the situation was laid out.
“Darwin had no native supers teams, and no paranormal cops who could go toe to toe with a Class Three rager. The closest team that might have taken Connor down was over an hour away. The local military forces were mostly at home with family for the holidays, and they couldn’t pull a react team fast enough to matter. We got the green light.”
“They didn’t tell you it was a kid, did they?”
“They didn’t know it was a kid, no one had enough information to tell what the fuck was going on. By the time me and my guys were engaged fully, Connor had killed a Hummvee full of Marines who tried to distract him long enough for us to get fully in play. All we knew was we had a screaming body that was literally pulling people apart like a kid dismembering insects.”
“What happened?”
“We fought, he killed two of my Marines in close Combat. Between him and the havoc, me and the other two gunners missed the car coming into the intersection with two people who made the wrong turn at the wrong time. We didn’t even realize what had happened until the vehicle got painted red from the inside. We turned their car into swiss cheese and killed them without ever intending to.”
Caitlin tried to stop her hands from shaking, but it wasn’t really working. Her voice was more than a little hollow, as Joe watched her relive Rager’s night in her mind’s eye as she talked. “Connor almost killed me, and I survived by popping a satchel charge on a city bus at near-suicide range. I shellshocked myself pretty bad, and all I saw was the guy who almost killed me standing, looking around.”
“I stumbled out of the store front, moved right up to him as he dropped to his knees, drew my sidearm, and I put a bullet between his eyes at point-blank range.” Her voice cracked. “It never even occurred to me that he’d stopped, snapped out of it, and it made sense in the moment. But my mind replayed it back and I saw his eyes. He was awake, staring at the mayhem and wondering what the hell happened, then he saw me, and it was over. Then I realized I’d just executed a fucking teenager!”
Joe was silent for a moment, then put his hand on Caitlin’s shoulder and seemingly stared into her eyes, her soul. “”How many people have you talked about this with Cait?”
“You’re the first. I thought I could handle this, thought maybe I could make peace…”
“Maybe you can. You’re not just another killer. Did you go in wanting to kill him?”
“I remember wanting to live, praying to god someone else would solve it before I ever had to click off my safety.”
“So you were responding to a shit situation, and you had to fight or die.”
Caitlin nodded. “He was out of the rage when I killed him, walked up, pop. No thought, just execution.”
“How much do you know about Connor Edwards, Caitlin?”
“Not much, just that he was a soccer enthusiast, he manifested and was a known rager, and some idiot shitlords decided to go pick a fight with him to protect humanity or some other bullshit.”
Jericho nodded. “Connor Edwards wasn’t a blackout rager. They tested him when he first popped a gasket and ripped a car to pieces. I looked up the bio on the kid before we went, then read it again after we lost you. Connor told the docs that he felt like his body was possessed, and he couldn’t do anything to control it. He was a passenger.”
“Oh sweet Jesus he would have remembered…”
“He would have remembered tearing up those H1s, he would remember killing the kids, the bystanders, everyone who got in his way. He would have seen their faces in his nightmares the same way you see his. He killed his own mother when she tried to stop him from going ballistic.”
Caitlin’s shaky knees finally gave and she hit the ground next to the tree, silently for a minute. “To this day, I could swear I thought I saw relief in his eyes when he realized I was going to kill him. I thought it was my brain making shit up, trying to protect me, find a way to make me feel better about what I did, to justify what I’d done. I still have a hard time believing that I wasn’t grasping at straws to find a reason why I didn’t deserve to be dead next to that kid.”
“Connor’s greatest fear, according to the bio posted alongside the laws protecting ragers, was that one day he would find himself hurting people he cared about, people who didn’t deserve to suffer, and he wouldn’t be able to stop himself.” Joe knelt next to Caitlin. “There’s a police record, and a recording of a kid with far more self-awareness than anyone our age has a right to be. He told the local cops if he raged out, and he started hurting people, shoot to kill.”
Caitlin started crying again, and Joe let her head rest on his shoulder as she finally let go and simply mourned the boy she had killed eight years before.
December 23rd, Darwin, Australia
Last minute Christmas shopping was fun. The Outcasts were still recovering from the Rager’s Night march, and talking to Caitlin. She’d spent most of the previous day looking at the biography for Conner Edwards, going over the history of the kid. Jericho never said a word to anyone about what she had confessed that night, acting as her sin-eater, and sharing her burden so that maybe she could stop hating herself for living when others had not.
Jericho’s mother had started reading the riot act about running away, making everyone worry when her oldest son told her, in no uncertain terms, to drop it and let it go. All of the outcasts were more than a little shocked, as were his family. Joe, for all his foibles, never defied or outright disobeyed his parents. But for whatever reason, that was the day he’d put his foot down,2 hard.
Caitlin could have kissed him. She didn’t have it in her to put up with anyone for a while.
Now the four Outcasts were loose, on their own in Darwin, exploring and burning up what little pocket money they had to buy gifts for the families. More than a few were purchased on Caitlin’s dime, much to the protests of her friends.
“Merry fucking Christmas, Jack, now shut up and take my money.” Caitlin grinned at her stubborn, dinosaurian buddy as he protested her helping him buy Adam his present.
True to form, there were plenty of people who shied away from the three obvious GSD kids, but there were more who steeled themselves, and tried their damndest to treat the small group like they were nothing more than normal teenagers. The Outcasts were more than happy to overlook people, being uncomfortable because of their appearance, if it meant that they weren’t being treated like dangerous, wild animals.
Diamond was trying on one of the touristy “Australian Bush hats” that tourists loved to buy, and they were generally goofing off while Caitlin distracted the girl at the counter who couldn’t quite hide her utter terror of snakes enough to do her job. Diamond pretended not to notice her affect on the girl when Caitlin distracted her, getting her to peel her eyes off of Sandra’s lower body long enough for the girl to calm down.
A few minutes, and kitschy trinket choices for presents later, and the girl looked back to see the snake girl wasn’t in the shop, and the two boys brought the bits for purchase.
“You did good,” Jericho grinned at her. “Most of the people back home would have had a screaming fit.”
“I’m sorry, I dunno how…”
“Relax,” Caitlin patted the girl on the shoulder. “To a point, we expect it. Shit happens, water under a bridge, Hakuna Matata and all that rot. You kept your cool, that’s all we can ask.”
“Yeah, sorry. I’ll get you rung up then.”
The ground shook, and a low thump announced something to be terribly, terribly wrong.
Forgetting trinkets and Christmas, the remaining three Outcasts darted outside to see what had happened.
“Oh shit, someone’s looting the Jewelry shops.” Diamondback pointed at the ten men who were running into and out of one of the shops while their boss, a man in a blocky power frame, directed them. It wasn’t power armor like Jericho’s. That would imply full-body coverage. It was more akin to a body-enhancing servo frame.
With a jet pack.
Razorback shrieked, and Jericho took in the sight. “Too many bystanders, get everyone away from the area. Jack are there any supers you’re aware of who will respond to this?”
The dinosaurian boy shook his head.
“I don’t think we should get in play, too risky with two ragers.” Caitlin didn’t like it, but it was the pragmatic view.
“I tend to agree, keep an eye. Looks like the locals are smart enough to take cover and get outta the way, let’s follow their lead and let the authorities sort this shit out. If anyone gets injured, we yank ‘em and triage.” Jericho quietly pulled a small gadget out of his pocket that looked like a nondescript wireless earpiece, and began listening in on the CB emergency channel.
“You gonna call it in Jericho?” Diamond looked at him quietly.
“Yup, Jack feed me the location info.” He tapped the transmit key. “This is an emergency broadcast, crime in progress, Jewelry heist it looks like. One power frame, looks like ten mooks. Any backup anyone can send?”
“What is the location of the crime in progress?” The operator’s voice cut through the static smoothly, and she listened as Joe filled her in on the address while Razorback signed. “Noted, dispatching assistance. Please do not get directly involved.”
“Not a problem, we’d just make things worse.”
Caitlin looked at her watch. “Amateurs,” she said critically, “Most of the Masterminds and even Techno-Devil would have been done and gone by now.”
“Yeah, but they all wouldn’t be doing this in broad daylight.” Sandra looked concerned.
“”Which means these guys are either pros, which I doubt, or they’re complete idiots.” Joe would have rolled his eyes if anyone would have noticed.
Razor chirped and signed. -Incoming trouble. Looks like a buncha flying idiot teenagers to the rescue.-
“Oh look, the cavalry has arrived.” Caitlin’s voice was dry and unamused as the group of young supers was followed by a G4 news van. “Oh for fuck’s sake.”
The crowd of people watching the heist was small, but there was more than one camera pointed, occasionally taking a shot of the power framed leader floating imperiously over the scene.
“Firefight?” Jericho asked.
“Firefight,” Caitlin responded calmly as the young heroes leapt into action, blazing away with abandon.
“Change of plans, Razor and Diamond, hit the crowd and get them to scatter away. We don’t need collateral damage. Cait, let’s circle, anyone gets wounded, peel ‘em away.”
Razor chirped along with the two young women nodding, and the four Outcasts scattered.
The flying blonde woman in bright blue spandex was trading fire with the power harness while the others waded into the minions. Two Crocs followed the brunette girl barking orders to the others as they charged the minions.
“Fucking idiots!” Jericho dodged a stray shot from little miss blue spandex and hit a trigger on his watch, causing a series of shield spikes to pop into existence from the nowhere compartment they were hidden in.
The sudden eruption of combat around the area caused people to panic, fleeing en masse and making things worse in general. Jericho ran and threw a spike in front of a storefront, causing a black shieldwall to erupt around the entryway and windows, protecting the huddling occupants from stray shots.
Razorback took the expedient of chasing bystanders away, waving frantically, shrieking and leaping at people to scare them away from the battlefield. They got the hint, as did the crowds diamond slithered up to.
“Run faster dammit they’re not paying…” Sandra’s voice dropped as a yong man ate some kind of blast to the shoulder. “...attention.” She caught the man before he fell completely and dragged him behind cover, hissing out the sibilant syllables she used, a modification of latin that she made sound serpentine, to focus her magic. Her hands glowed as she laid the man down and pressed her fingers to the wound.
Caitlin wasn’t having much luck getting near the few bystanders who were getting hit. More than one stray shot had gone into a storefront before Joe could drop a shield spike to protect the civilians in all of the areas. She saw the young man next to diamond get shot and snarled, then yelled. “Outcasts COMMS UP!”
She pulled her own Jericho-made team communicator and the others quickly checked in. “This isn’t working Joe. They’re idiots.”
Joe got behind cover. “Alright, Get to cover, I’m going to try something.”
“Emergency band, that Jewelry heist just got hot, some punkass kid hero group just engaged. We have civvie wounded. I dropped shield barriers on as many storefronts as I could but these morons are putting too many civilians at risk!”
“What kind of shields?” came the response.
“Devisor special, me and my friends are also mutants, two of us are ragers, that’s why we didn’t want to get involved.”
“Please give your identification.”
“MID Number US-22456-TX. The rest of the MIDs should be linked under the Outcast Corner link. This is Jericho and I am requesting permission to put these idiots down, hard.”
“Jericho which side are you intending to put down?”
“All of them!”
“Roger Jericho, wait one.” The Outcasts waited behind cover, watching the idiocy unfold and go nowhere. Neither side, hero or villain, were getting an edge over the other, and the injury count was rising. “Jericho, Outcast Corner is authorized to use nonlethal force to end the combat. Disengage if the situation escalates or if ordered by authorities.”
“Roger. All right Outcasts, let’s show ‘em what Gunny B. and Ito Soke teach the freshman classes!”
Razorback was already in play before Jericho finished and hit the button to call his rafe armor. The raptor-like Outcast scaled a wall and leapt off a nearby roof to crash into the blonde chick in blue, slamming her to the ground, then skull-punching her when she tried to get up.
“That’s one!” Jericho fired two darts loaded with sedatives at the Crocs, knowing full well that if Razor got to them, they’d have Lizard tartare all over the landscape.
Diamond drew out a small crystal and looked over at the grand melee, hissing out a sibilant invocation and flinging the essence battery into the fighting crowd right as Caitlin slammed into the center like a whirling tornado of limbs. The crystal shattered in a glittering, silvery haze as the movements of the combatants became sluggish, the baselines getting the worst of it.
It was unfair. None of the minions, nor the teen heroes really knew what the hell they were doing, and the many, many hours of sim drills for the Outcasts made a potent case for just why said sims were important.
Caitlin swept the legs out from under the hero devisor and swatted his chest with an open palm to ram him to the concrete, the wind was completely knocked out of the boy. Jericho charged in, lights and sirens on his angelic knight Raphael-class EMT Armor blaring at full power as he grabbed the brunette hottie from behind and deployed a sedative dispenser, giving her enough sedative to send her reeling, then repeated the procedure on her opponent. He easily overpowered his opponents, the simulated PK field was too powerful for the myriad combatants to overcome.
Razor climbed another wall and leapt at the power frame, ripping and tearing into the mechanisms and driving the suddenly panicked and not-shooting villain caroming off a wall and to the ground.
Diamondback darted forward and slugged the young man, with a harelip and claws, who was zipping around trying to stop the Outcasts from flattening his team. She hissed and cast, flashing two fleeing minions with concussive bolts of magic energy that laid them out on the ground.
It only took one more backhand, to a pair of baseline knees, from Caitlin to sweep the last minion into the air to hit the ground hard. The rest surrendered.
“Everyone on the ground, face down, spread-eagle and palms to the sky or we’re going to maul you some more!” The blue-tattooed artificer could be scary when she put her mind to it, erasing any doubts that her three friends might have that she was, in fact, the Range Maniac reborn. Everyone who could, complied, and the Outcasts proceeded to search the downed groups for weapons.
“Oh for shit sake, Razor.” Jericho had to laugh.
The leader of the heist’s power frame was ruined, torn to ribbons and the massive, black-mottled form of Jack “Razorback” Carlyle simply had the man’s head and neck pinned between his jaws, tightening just enough to discourage the man from trying to move.
Or fight.
Or do anything more complex than peeing his own pants.
Jericho looked at the stopwatch that triggered whenever he donned his rafe armor. Thirty-nine seconds from engagement to finish was all it had taken for the Outcasts to end a fight that had dragged on for well over five minutes. “Does anyone else feel like that was too easy?”
“I think no one here is really trained.” Diamond’s comments were subvocalized as she had gone back to finding wounded people and stopping the bleeding.
Jericho peeled off to retrieve shield spikes before helping Diamond continue to find and treat wounded. Caitlin stood sentinel over the prisoners. Razorback licked the back of his captive’s head like he was going to eat the man.
The G4 crew, lacking the common sense that God gave a Sand Gnat, were rushing up and trying to get Caitlin to interview, only to have her unconsciously flash azure fire from her hands as her skin seemed to burn.
“Get that fucking camera out of my face you damn fuckwit!” She roared at the crew, pointing at them with one blazing hand, as a pair of men on the ground decided that trying to flee might be a bad idea. The camera crew backed up to a safe distance, not eager to interfere with Jericho’s mobile ambulance armor dragging people who’d been hurt out and doing triage, or the two monstrously GSD Outcasts who were occupied healing or trying to make the bad guy shit his pants.
“Emergency, this is Jericho. Fight has been put down, no fatalities so far. We’re treating the wounded. So far four gunshot wounds, all stabilized, Eldritch is overseeing the perps, Razor is keeping the instigator under control. Diamondback is actively healing wounded, so please tell the boys in blue not to shoot the big snake girl.”
“Ambulances and police should be arriving momentarily, Jericho. The officers have been advised of your compatriots’ GSD appearances, please stand down so the officers can take the combatants into custody.”
Sure enough the police arrived as she finished talking, and Caitlin and Razor immediately backed away from the antsy cops, and made very nonthreatening, hands to the sky gestures. The police gave wary glances at the red armbands and one of them visibly slung a rifle, he was obviously unaccustomed to wielding, and waved the two to the side to take statements while his fellow officers began zip-tying and arresting everyone on the ground.
Jericho was auto-stitching a cut on a young woman’s leg and wrapping it in gauze when he was approached by the Officer in charge.
“You the one they call Jericho? You in charge of this show here?”
“Yessir. Let me finish helping the medics please, and I’ll give you all the time you need.” He chuckled as Caitlin was pointing at the G4 news van and several officers converged to acquire the raw footage the Herowatch crew had gotten to find out who needed to be prosecuted.
Diamondback, lacking any particularly badly wounded people to heal, took the time to close a vicious scrape on a little boy’s shoulder that would have scarred nastily had she not given him the rough equivalent to the healing power of a regen three for ten minutes.
“I’m tapped out,” Diamond said. “I need to gather more essence to heal anyone else, I left my bag ‘o tricks back at the house.”
“That’s fine, we’ll take it from here,” a nervous young woman drew Sandra aside to get her statement as well.
The whole ordeal took six hours, and a ride to the police station, to sort out. The Outcasts disarmed what little they had, and cooperated with the cops fully, not wanting the MCO involved at all. The end result was that while the Turners and Carlyles had to come pick up the four troublemakers, no charges were filed. The only sticking point was that the police wanted to learn where the three freshmen and one sophomore had learned to fight like that.
“Remind me to apologize to Gunny Bardue, when we get back to school, for everything I’ve ever said that was rotten. Ito too.” Jericho and the others went over the fight several times, and all they could come up with was the complete lack of training on both sides.
“Oh hell no. You keep calling him a rotten old bastard.” Caitlin grinned. “He’d get soft if he thought you liked him. Or he’d torture you more. One of the two.”
-Torture,- Razor signed.
“I don’t know why you four can be so flippant after getting into a fight downtown,” Kiernan Carlyle gave the four of them a glowering look.
“Because if we don’t I’ll start throwing up and getting the shakes again.” Caitlin didn’t bother to sugar coat her reaction.
-Sad thing is we have harder fights at school. I showed you my combat final recording from last year, Dad.-
“Aye but you still won’t show me this year’s.”
Jericho went a little pale at the thought of anyone seeing that. “Trust me, you don’t want to see that one. Jack popped a gasket with one of his friends on campus. No one exactly thought that one was really cool for family viewing.”
“Bad?”
-Worse than the mixed bag of our scout guys on the army base and the attached Marine training platoon aftermath.-
“You’re right, I don’t want to see that.”
“They keep drilling it into our heads, but it didn’t really make sense till now.” Diamondback was making connections she hadn’t before. “Monster? You expect them to be dangerous, things that go bump in the night are dangerous. But I’ve never seen a fight in a crowd like that before, most of the damage done was to bystanders.”
“That’s normal.” Caitlin shook her head. “We were actually staying out of it. We were pushing the crowds away, setting up barricades and whatnot to shield the people in the shops when things went retarded.”
-The idiots on both sides were hitting bystanders, Dad, we couldn’t excuse that.-
“Mom, you’re glowering at me. Spit it out.” Joe looked at Mrs. Turner, who was sitting at the dining table. Zach and Adam were both peeking around the corner, trying to see what was happening with their siblings being in trouble.
“I’m glowering because I don’t like the thought of you, or Sandra, in a supers fight.” She sighed. “I’m not yelling because I’m proud that you were thinking of the people who couldn’t defend themselves. But we are going to have a long talk about why, exactly you didn’t pull your bulletproof armor before you ran through a firefight.”
Joe tapped a control on his watch. “Caitlin, hit me.”
Cait didn’t even hesitate, snapping out a punch that could have shattered a grown man’s skull and caved it in, only to have her knuckles deflect off of a barrier that shimmered faintly about a foot from his skin.
Mrs. Turner jumped.
“That’s why mom. I didn’t want to escalate, so I went with less obvious and combative tactics. I didn’t look like a threat, and I was protected. Cait’s hide is actually about as tough as stone, and I’ve seen Sandra dodge bullets. Literally. Razorback there heals fast enough that unless someone whacks his head off, he isn’t going down.”
His mother, still irritated by the demonstration, breathed a silent prayer of thanks that her son wasn’t taking unnecessary risks. “How many people did you all save today?”
“Despite all of the idiocy? Only four who would have been critically or fatally injured. Everyone else was just banged up.”
“That’s still four people who get to wake up Christmas morning,” Diamondback said.
“Worth it,” added Caitlin.
-You could ground us until we all turned thirty, but we’d do it again. Hunting’s fun, but keeping people from dying rather than mauling them means something to me. I feel a bit more human afterwards.-
The two parents looked at each other. “Alright, we let it slide. Once.” Kiernan’s voice was made of steel. “If you lot get into the habit of seeking trouble, we’re going to have words.
“Please, as if we don’t have enough trouble,” Diamondback muttered, half-watching the Dream warp the spiritscape of the town out the window like reality was made of melted wax. “With this secondary astral crap, I’d rather focus on not getting bit by some immaterial oogie-boogie.”
“Still can’t turn that off?” Caitlin asked quietly.
“Only for a few seconds. I can fade out of one side or the other for about three seconds but it takes a lot of effort.”
“Caitlin, I need to ask, why did you vanish the other day?” Mrs. Turner’s voice was a lot more calm.
“I was here, in Darwin, on Rager’s night. I saw everyone on that street die.” Caitlin kept her voice level this time.
“And, on that note, I think I’ll go grab the boys and help them wrap presents.” Mrs. Turner immediately comprehended what the ramifications of that might be for a small girl of age seven. “If you ever need to talk about it…”
“Joe’s been helping me work through some of it.”
She nodded and rounded up Adam and Zach.
“So how good are the self-defense instructors at the school?” Kiernan gave the kids a skeptical look.
“They make us look like rank amateurs, and Ito-Soke can dismantle any of us, except maybe Caitlin.” Jericho shrugged.
“No, not except, just takes him longer,” Caitlin cut in. “That evil old bastard still gets the best of me unless I keep him running for an endurance match. That’s the only way I’ve ever beaten him. And I’ve still not been able to do it twice.”
“Gunny Bardue’s a rotten old asshole Marine Drill Instructor that teaches Marksmanship and runs the sims,” Diamondback explained gently. “He’s put us through seven of the nine circles of Hell in his simulators. Compared to some of the shit he throws at us, that bloody fight in the shopping center areas was more like a warmup. The teachers of Whateley Academy don’t do things by half-measures.”
“It’s about survival.” Caitlin said. “Here, in Australia? We haven’t seen a fraction of the kind of panic we’ll see in the states. Diamond going into a Boston shopping mall resulted in the police being called about the ‘Dangerous mutant monster’. And it’s even worse in some countries. It’s about being ready to defend yourself in a world where in most countries you’re already judged a threat to your neighbors.”
“Is it really as bad as the news makes it out to be?”
“Worse.” Caitlin gave Kiernan a serious look. “A couple kids were doing a parkour run with a teacher and some of his buddies in Boston a few months back. They were showing off and having fun in what was basically slated as a wrecking yard, and the police had been cleared on the full-power run. Lamplighter decided to attack them for God only knows what reason. The teacher and his buddies went nuclear, because the bastard hurt his kids. Almost killed lamplighter, and all of them were baseline or exemplar Ones.”
Caitlin ran a few scenarios in her head. “Thirty-seven kids have disappeared in American MCO arrests and just vanished into nothing in the US over the past five years. The Iron Curtain may have dropped but there’s still some seriously fucked up shit going on in some of those areas. Certain parts of the US will turn into a warzone if a mutant gets outted.”
“Jesus.” Razorback’s father leaned back.
“It’s not a nice world.” Jericho said simply.
-We’re just not going to lie back and get torn up by the world.-
“Good.”
* * *
December 25th, 2006, The Carlyle House
For the Holidays you can’t beat home, sweet home! The tinny radio played quietly in the living room, adding cheerful sound as Santa Raptor turned on the Christmas lights and the tree.
Jack grinned as he’d slipped downstairs at five in the morning, creeping silently into the living room to look at the tree. The many ornaments from his childhood were hanging, and there were far more presents under the fake tree than he was used to. But he had a tradition to uphold, one he’d not done since the fateful day when he’d gone from normal child to GSD monster gone feral in the Outback for almost two years.
He’d gotten much better at cooking since his fateful days as a child, nearly burning down the house every Christmas morning. The food wasn’t amazing, much less Ayla-grade, but he enjoyed doing it when people would appreciate it.
Adam, of course, was the first one down the stairs, and when the rest of the family congregated in the living room with the guests, there were eggs, bacon and sausage cooked up for the normal appetites, and two big pots of hard-boiled eggs to supplement his and Sandra’s appetites.
The Outcasts were hanging out together with the two younger boys while the presents were being opened. Adam, of course had to do presents from Razor’s back. Razor, for his part, was lying on his belly, relaxing as his brother used him like a jungle gym.
Zach was opening the present from his big brother, revealing a remote-controlled helicopter drone that was built to take a beating, with a distended camera that could be used from a home computer. Zach’s howled “Thank you” might have elicited mockery at school, distorted by Zach being unable to hear, but Diamondback was beaming at the genuine emotion. She was finding that one of the benefits of being an empath was that the emotions of children at Christmas were almost like a high.
Joe and Jack opened their presents at the same time from the family, and the two boys eyes popped out of their heads when they realized that their respective parents had gotten them each a series of distortion pedals they could use for their underground jams. Parents were assaulted with joyous hugs, and instruments were hooked up.
Jericho led off with a solo rendition of “Silent Night” on the bass, and Razor followed up with a rendition of “Oh Holy Night” as Mama Turner and Mama Carlyle opened up a present from the two boys, a framed group photo of Outcast Corner and all of the friends they had made in the first semester of the year. Jericho, Caitlin, Diamond and Razor had taken a knee, crouching so that Bunker, Mule, Slapdash, Phase, Fey, Chaka, Phobos and Deimos, Jimmy-T and many more could clearly be seen behind them. Hanging from the rafters behind the bizarrely eclectic group hung “Merry Christmas from Whateley Academy.”
Edith and Nathan Turner had slight smiles as they looked at the mixed, eclectic group of people their son had made friends with. Debra and Kiernan Carlyle had tears in their eyes as they saw that their son had finally gotten past the raging horror monster, feral detention King reputation and made friends this year. He’d been miserable his first year, but for christmas he’d brought home good friends, good people and this. Diamondback got to feel the little stabs of hope as they hugged their son.
Caitlin smiled when she opened her gifts, a mix of music CDs and recordings that her friends had given her. Diamond got a microphone and amplifier setup that the boys had collaborated on for months.
“You know it’s hardly fair, they make a big deal about wanting you on their little band, and give me the instruments,” Sandra said to Caitlin with an amused smirk.
“I’ve been thinking about that…” Caitlin rolled the words around as she looked at the suddenly expectant boys. “I’ll agree to come to music class with you, but you knuckleheads have to sign up for team tactics class. Joe, you’re the lead. If you do not agree to my terms, you don’t get to bother me or Sandra about joining the band, ever again.”
“Done.”
“Don’t I get a say in this?”
“NO!” Caitlin and Joe grinned at the mock-sullen snake girl with grins as Razor chirped at her.
Adam giggled and handed her the microphone he’d hooked up to the amplifiers with his big brother’s help. “Jack says you can sing!”
“Oh you great rotten lizard…”
“Nope.” Caitlin pointed at her. “I heard you sing once, have to do it again.”
She looked at the families present and tried to imagine a boy she would likely never see again in the crowd, and prayed she would. She focused on her twin brother as she sang the old melody of “I’ll be home for Christmas” for everyone, on her new setup, and smiled at the emotional reactions, and genuine applause, when she finished. She knew she’d never hear the end of it if she didn’t take Music classes, now.
Caitlin got up, and wandered up to the tree and withdrew the three presents she had carefully hidden behind the tree, and dropped the massive, meter-wide octagon at Joe’s feet, and handed the oddly wrapped tootsie-roll package to Diamond, and a small, palm-sized box to Razor. “I found these a bit back, and thought they would be something you guys could use at school.
Sandra felt the oddly ribbed package and tore it open, revealing the odd, black-steel serpent with orichalcum eyes and her eyes popped damn near out of her head. “Holy shit what is this?”
Caitlin scooted closer. “It’s a training tool, one that was used a long time ago for teaching. It’s kind of like a familiar, but also meant to be a mentoring type, that adapts to the person it’s tied to and their powers, to help them learn how to survive and thrive.”
“Dayum.” Joe looked more than a bit wide-eyed.
“Figured you could use help that wouldn’t get weirded out by you having a serpent tail.” Caitlin took Sandra’s hand and drew her harvester, then pricked Diamond’s index finger then pressed the tiny bead of blood to the metal snake’s forehead. The thing immediately animated, slithering and coiling up her arm and wrapping itself around her upper-arm like a band meant to decorate and protect.
I am here for you, Milady. By the Sisters, I will guide, protect, teach and be your companion until darkness takes us both. The voice only she could hear rattled through her mind, and she could now see the snake both in the physical and astral now that it had attuned to her directly.
“Woah, how did you get this?” Diamondback was amazed at the deceptively simple thing.
“I did a favor to the people at Uluru. They let me grab a couple things for you all in the aftermath.”
She leaned over and hugged Caitlin tightly. “Thank you!”
Jericho stood and tried to pick up the heavy octagon. “Good God how much does this thing weight?”
“About four hundred pounds.” Cait grinned as jericho unwrapped a glassy, black, inch-thick octagon of smoky, opaque material that seemed to be similar to obsidian.
“Woah,” he rubbed his hand along the impossibly smooth material, feeling about for the information his odd vision could not give him. He felt the four divot points on the backside of the plate, “This is like where you’d rivet on straps for a shield.”
“Got it in one.” Caitlin grinned. “It’s not as fancy, but it’s a finger wiggler alloy I think you’ll appreciate.”
“That can’t be Adamant, you can’t make that much at once!” Diamond’s expression was disbelieving.”
“This isn’t adamantite, feels all wrong, texture’s off and this is heavier.” Joe was thoughtful.
“Not adamantite, Adamant.” Caitlin flipped the octagon upright and walked a hand over it. “I can figure out how to destroy or dismantle just about anything. Not this. So far as anyone can tell, there’s no force that exists that can pierce, alter, mangle or otherwise damage or penetrate this stuff.”
Jericho’s eyes went wide as ghostly dinner plates. “Holy crap. I have to mount this to my Rafe Armor!”
“Every knight needs his shield, right?” Caitlin smiled, then turned to Razor. “Yours isn’t so flashy, but I thought you’d appreciate it.”
“Oh God now I have to start working.”
“Oh God, not again.” Mama Turner groaned. “He disappears for hours or days and comes back with some insane contraption he cobbled up in the garage.”
“Two Hours, tops.” Joe looked at the octagon.
“Thirty minutes if I help you.” Caitlin replied.
Jack, for his part, carefully unwrapped his gift, holding the palm-sized mahogany-wood box in his hand. Unclasping the latch and opening the lid let out a quiet, ethereal chorus of singing voices to match the fae form of the ghostly , dancing illusion which gracefully stepped and leapt in time to the music. Everyone could hear the ancient song, and a feeling of peace slid through everyone’s minds, calming even Diamond’s anxieties, Razorback’s feral fury, and the constant, bottled-up core of Caitlin’s unexpressed rage.
It was magic, it was inspirational to the australian rager, as he set the box down, lying next to it, watching the dancing, elfin ballerina keep time with the eternal song. For the first time in his life since he’d first looked into the mirror and saw the nightmare eyes of a crocodile looking back, Jack Carlyle felt fully at peace.
Watch. Sandra was startled as the quiet voice interrupted her thoughts. Shield, child, and learn. This is how the hunter is kept calm when he is not leading the packs.
She didn’t want to shield the serene calm, but at the serpent’s coaxing, she did, and then realized what she was seeing. Jack’s reptilian form was constant in the physical and astral realms, but as the song rang out, that started to change. As she separated her mind and senses Sandra really looked at everyone.
Jericho seemed to have a halo almost, and wings of light raised from his spirit that were muted by the pain he stole from others, worn as a shroud against the darkness of the world.
Caitlin was flesh in appearance, but her skin had the white iridescence of marble, and her hands were soaked in the blood of too many, dripping to the floor, the stains never drying, even as the young woman’s spirit shone with a burning light of pure intent to do right by the people around her even when the paths to what was right led through darkness.
Jack’s fury abated,and as her friend seemingly drifted into a happy trance, the lizard faded, and a small boy could be seen clutching his guitar inside the silhouette of the great beast, pulsing with a heart of pure furious energy that fuelled his every action. The boy and the beast did not move congruously, and as the clever camouflage faded, Sandra saw the bright point of light latched onto his spirit, a primal force of nature that could never be tamed, and was too strong for a child to fully contain.
You understand now. The spirit of the Hunter has claimed this child. Together they are a weapon to protect the world, and song is their release from their fury.
“Jack is an Avatar.”
When her friends were unresponsive, she reached over and gently closed the music box, and felt the awareness creep back into the Outcasts as they stopped hearing the haunting chorus.
As their awareness filtered back in, the spirits of her friends cloaked themselves back in the guises she was familiar with. Caitlin was the statue, Jericho the clown, Razorback the Beast.
“Jack you’re an Avatar.” Sandra’s voice was slightly bemused.
-What do you mean?-
“The Music box, I saw it, I saw your spirit. I saw what each of you look like at your core, your spirit. The Music box calms you down.” She was amazed, excited and a little frightened. “Jack you have a hallow, and your spirit’s too big, it’s overwhelming your body, that’s why you look like you do!”
-We’ll figure that out later, back at Whateley. For now, we deal with Christmas, and be family. Screw Exemplars, Avatars, whatever. I want to think about being here and happy with you guys, my parents and Adam.- Razorback put his points to action when he pretended to start eating his brother, tickling the hell out of the boy by using the simple expedient of folding his fingers inward and using his knuckles to torture the poor child.
Caitlin grinned. She hadn’t had too many happy holidays in the last twelve years. For one of the few times in her life, she was glad that she was celebrating.
* * *
December 31st, 2006
“No spider, don’t build a disintegrator ray,” Sandra was on the phone, talking with deceptive calm to the poor girl having a drick-a-thon on the other line. Spider had encountered another one of the Sidhe noble-wannabes that were the utter bane of her existence and had completely lost her cool. The serpentine girl had an air of put-upon resignation as she worked to talk yet another mad scientist down from the maddened tirade of fury she had worked herself into.
The others had handed her the phone as she was usually the calmest. Poor Sandra thumped her head on the wall slightly as she listened to the shrieks of outrage on the other line. “No, melting her skin off would make you the criminal. We don’t want you going to jail.”
Joe was on the other phone, talking to Spider’s dad while Sandra and he worked to get the girl to calm down without invoking a death ray, or something, to punish the fae who had so offended her.
“Come on, are you really going to have time to build an assault bot to stomp on her before you calm down? Be reasonable. On second thought no, disassembler nanos are a bad idea! Do the robot! Do the robot!”
“Joe tell her dad she’s got a class three nanoassembler under her bed!” She held her hand over the receiver of the phone to muffle the coordination while Koala’s harried father tried to get all of the destructive science projects away from his daughter’s grasping fingers.
“No spider you’re right, Ninimeth is absolutely a poncy name that sounds like a bad Tolkien reference. Calm down, and let’s think rationally… no, you can’t force-ration oxygen to arrogance. It’s not legal spider! No, Caitlin is not loaning you her sidearm collection!”
“Will it shut her up?”
Diamondback put a hand over the phone to stifle a giggle. “Not helping, Cait!”
The metal-haired girl grinned and “helped” until they finally calmed down. “Where’s the address of this Fae nerdling? I’ll get a recruitment package and go check her out and see if she’s a good candidate for Whateley, so Carson doesn’t have to send an eval, before we leave.”
“Hey Spider, someone else volunteered to deal with the bint, you’re off the hook.”
Diamond grinned and finally hung up the phone.
“Well that was bracing.” Cait grinned. “You should have seen Koala last year. She and Mega-Death got into a shrieking match that lasted four hours.”
“Ugh, I don’t even want to imagine that.”
Joe got off the phone a few moments later. “Alright, Spider’s calming down enough that Dad was able to get most of her stuff back to the Overwatch workshops in Cairns.”
-Can we go into town now?-
“Why do you want to go into town, Jack?” Diamond was perfectly comfortable chilling at the Carlyle house, talking to the odd, intelligent construct on her arm, or BSing with her buddies.
-I’m going stir-crazy sitting at home. I wanna get out and see a movie or something.-
“I’m with him. Movie?” Joe grinned.
“Movie.” Caitlin nodded and stood up. “I’ll get the tickets. Joe, Jack grab your brothers, you know they’re going to want to come.”
The two boys, far from wanting to exclude their brothers, bolted out to retrieve them.
“Night at the Museum?” Cait asked
“Sounds like a plan,” Diamond grinned a bit. I’ll go see if someone can give us a ride.”
Thirty minutes later, Debra Carlyle was driving through the streets of Darwin with two boys and four mutants in the bed of the family pickup. Two hours and thirty minutes after that, when they were all fed and happy from watching a T-Rex skeleton play fetch, the truck wouldn’t start, and the radio played a digitized static broadcast interspersed with bits of human voice.
“Any of you kids good at figuring out how to fix a truck?” Debra wasn’t too concerned. It wasn’t the first time the truck had broken down, and most certainly wouldn’t be the last.
Caitlin and Jericho immediately began looking at the vehicle. “There’s nothing wrong with it, should start right up.” Caitlin’s words trailed a bit as they looked around and realized that all of the traffic was at a dead stop. Several people had their hoods open, trying to get their vehicles to cooperate. Not one single car was working.
*static*...win...regret...to save our future, all of you have to die. People of Darwin, it is with a heavy heart that I must bring you these tidings. The future of mankind is at stake… The radio started a repeating message interspersed with static, and Caitlin jerked away from the truck like she’d been burned, looking upward, scanning the sky for something she prayed wouldn’t be there.
“No, no no no no…” Caitlin saw an almost digital flicker, points of light like LED pixels trying to sync up to the vision of a mad God began to flicker slowly across the skyline, and two pinpoints of light, one burning white, one burning black started shining less than three hundred feet off the ground. “Fuck too late. Everybody run!”
Dozens of people looked at the oddly tattooed girl, and the Outcasts looked at Caitlin as she put on her comms bead and started looking around, slamming the truck hood. “We gotta go! Round up everyone, we have five minutes to be gone or everyone here’s dead!”
"Caitlin what the hell is going on?" Jericho was worried, he’d never seen Cait freaking out before.
“Doctor Reaper’s coming. We have to get everyone moving and gone now!”
The outcasts all stared at her like she’d gone insane, and then they moved. Jericho immediately called up his Rafe Armor, freshly connected to the new shield hanging off of its left arm, then engaged another trigger. Slapdash’s anti-tank Core-Ejector materialized in his right hand as he began calling the CB emergency Band. “Emergency, Darwin is under attack, I repeat Darwin is under attack. Dr. Reaper is materializing killbots over downtown.”
“Say again, there is no…”
“Shut up and get the word out, four minutes, tops and we’re going to have people dying. Get the Overwatch Defense team and every fucking soldier you can mobilized now!”
The digital distortion in the sky was getting worse.
Caitlin and Diamondback got together and the pair were frantically pulling out their wallets, scanning the notes they had made before coming to Australia.
“Nevakah!” Diamond shrieked as Caitlin hastily drew a perfect circle in front of them with chalk and then grabbed the serpentine girl and focused all of her essence into Diamond so she could do something normally beyond her capacity, causing both girls’ and Razorback’s emergency bags they had left safely at Whateley Academy to appear in front of them.
“What’s going on?” Debra was frightened, and rapidly became moreso as Diamondback began donning her various essence-crystal jewelry and sorted her Tarot deck.
Her eyes grew, and everyone nearby started freaking out, as Caitlin began assembling a four-foot long, heavily modified gun, and donning black Range REACT armor unique to Whateley Academy.
Jericho flashed the lightbars and sirens on his armor and turned on the PA. “This is an emergency, everyone, get to us now. This is an evacuation order! Everyone needs to get out of Darwin now. We will clear a path and protect you!”
Almost as soon as Jericho finished, all of the car radios playing Reaper’s melancholy message of extermination were overridden on all channels.
This is an emergency broadcast. Darwin is hereby ordered evacuated. I repeat, Darwin is to be evacuated. Leave immediately. Take nothing with you save your family and neighbors. All vehicles have been disabled, watch the skies. Do not try to hide. Evacuate the city with all haste.
As if to punctuate the severity of the moment, Sandra caught sight of a passenger plane tumbling from the sky, on the outskirts of the city, near the harbor. “Oh no. No no no no no.”
The explosion and pressure wave as the bird impacted the harbor could be felt clearly as more planes flew into the Darwin interdiction zone, and simply began falling from the sky.
“Diamond I’ll keep you juiced. Joe we gotta go!”
“Everyone, let’s go, this is your one chance to get out of here! We need to move!” Jericho’s PA system tied into local electronics as he broadcast. “Get to my location, we are leaving in thirty seconds! Anyone not here will have to catch up!”
* * *
Doctor Reaper finally materialized in this juncture of time and space, clad in his metallic shell created to resemble the visage of the Grim Reaper. He took no joy in what must be done, and ticked away the final countdown as the first of his hyper-tech extermination robots materialized in midair and fell to the earth, not bothering to arrest as it slammed into an office building, punching through the roof and unfolding from its drop configuration within. The sudden gouts of flame and panic from within told the tale as the machine went about its business in an ordered and efficient manner.
It wasn’t cruelty, but necessity. Ultimately, it did not matter how people died, only that they died. Minimizing the chances of survival, rather than bringing humane ends, had dictated the design of his minions. In mere moments, Gogg and Magogg, his allies in this silent war, would fully extract themselves from their dimensional wound, and the terror of uncaring Gods would descend upon Darwin, Australia.
Dr. Reaper watched, his predictive interface monitoring the sectors of the city for any deviation in the expected casualty counts. In order for the world to be saved, at least eighty percent of humanity had to die.
* * *
Panic descended, as the first killing machines landed, and the frantic crowds of people tried to flee in literally every direction, following instructions that came far too late for the majority of those in town to get clear. Local army units were already mobilizing and some were even in motion. There would be no outside intervention. The people of Darwin were on their own.
“Stay together, stay together!” Jericho and Razor herded the crowd, including Debra, Adam and Zach away from the series of multi-limbed, shredding blade-wheels the size of small horses that had come around behind the fleeing people drenched in the gore and remains of previous victims.
Diamondback slammed her bracers together and released an emerald wave of force, at the things, as she flung her hands apart. One of the killer things shattered, falling to the earth in pieces over twenty yards away. Thunder crashed as Caitlin tore into the others with a practiced hand, the AEGIS-Loader feeding manifested armor-piercing bullets into the feed of the gun at an impossible rate. She had a rocket launcher strapped to her butt and six rocket tubes were loaded on hardpoints on her back in an eerie mirror of events on Halloween night. Unlike Halloween night, the weight of all of the ordinance did not slow the girl down as she ran alongside the crowd, scanning for threats.
Razorback was on the rooftops, scouting for killer bots, using his insane leaping abilities to rapidly keep pace, and check all of the people. He grimly noted that the crowd was growing, as they huddled up with the Outcasts to keep from being killed by merciless machines.
They had been moving the crowd for an hour. He estimated that they had made it a kilometer, tops. Frequent stops to retrieve downed wounded, makeshift stretchers and blood-pounding fights with killer robots was taking its toll.
He saw the spider-like burner when it engulfed three people in napalm fire, dousing them all sufficiently that not even Diamondback’s magic could have saved them. He shrieked into his comms, and leapt.
Officer Melody Wright jerked back and held out a hand to stall the crowd of people warily following the four mutants who were going nuts trying to keep all of them alive. The raptor-thing dove off the roof he was on, and moments later, the armored girl with the metal hair bolted past her at olympic speeds, running up and over a wall, aiming and firing as she hit the ground and advanced on the metal monstrosity.
Razorback darted over the thing’s back, ripping and pulling at anything loose. Metal pipes, feed hoses and hydraulic pumps began to fall victim to his wrath as the beast he was riding started taking fire from Caitlin. He almost lost it when the thing engulfed his friend in flames.
Caitlin saw the wash of burning napalm and ducked behind a dumpster. She could take the flames, but the ordinance she was carrying could not. As the burning wave of heat erupted around her, she counted. When she hit ten, she stood and came around the dumpster, firing again, then charging.
The spider was losing, but Razorback couldn’t kill it. He was getting annoyed when he saw Caitlin sling the massive machinegun and rush, gripping a small object and ripping something out of it. He saw the ring and pin on her finger and leapt away again as his friend slammed a fist through the sensor eye of the thing and then turned and ran, leaving the beast to try and pull the grenade out of its head as the two Outcasts dove for cover.
The chain-reaction of the explosion ignited the fuel in the thing’s abdomen, detonating the pressurized mixture of napalm and acetylene in a spectacular explosion that destroyed the faces of two homes.
Jericho had his own problems. The blocky, tripod-like, armored thing was fast, and it fired energy blasts that incinerated flesh and clothing, leaving smouldering statues of ash that collapsed and dissolved, or exploded in the wind. Three people trying to reach the fleeing crowd had died. He rushed forward, interposing his shield, and himself, between the killer droid and the fourth, and he felt the impacts of energy bolts that failed to so much as mar the glossy face of his shield.
“Caitlin I love you right now.”
“Bit busy right now!”
Jericho chuckled as he heard the massive explosion from somewhere on the other side of the moving crowd. When he came out from behind the shield, he aimed and fired twice, magnesium burner rounds, punching through and incinerating the robot’s internals, left a burned and glowing husk to fall to the ground.
“Diamond, how you doing?”
Sandra pulled herself into the spirit as the machinegun fire raked the spot she had been standing, flickering back and drawing a card. “Death.” She released the essence in the card and willed it to take the true meaning of the death card: Transformation. Caitlin had overcharged her essence crystals, and she was focusing on keeping things under control. These machines had no souls, no spirit, so she was able to leave Ryan to watch for threats in the astral without distraction.
Caitlin and Razor charged to the front of the crowd again, a roving patrol searching for threats, and finding them. They saw the robot charge, then glass shattered as its transmuted joints exploded into clear shards of crystalline glass that could never take the stress of moving a massive war machine.
“Remind me never to piss you off.” Caitlin goggled at Diamond.
“Your fault, I’m about out of juice.”
“Razor go help Joe!” Caitlin turned to Diamond and put a hand on her shoulder, working to focus the essence, that flowed into her constantly, and allow it to go into her friend, who channeled it in turn to her expended energy foci.
Razorback darted off into the crowd they were leading, and the two girls took point.
The comms traffic was scattered, unreliable and all of the city’s myriad defenders had come out of the woodwork to fight back.
Mutant children hiding their powers began blasting and smashing alongside parents and police as weapons were retrieved and distributed. The Army rode their vehicles into town until they hit the interdiction field and began marching in to rescue civilians. When they hit the limits of the vehicles' range, the Artillery cannons and tanks set up for long range bombardments. Within minutes, reconnaisance units were calling in pockets of Hunter-Killers. The Australian Army guns thundered, and steel rain began to fall.
Even the super-powered criminals were fighting. Word got around that several police stations had been hit, and all of the men and women held in the lockups had been slaughtered without mercy.
By now everyone had figured out that Reaper intended for no one to live.
All that stood between him and several hundred fleeing civilians were four mutant children from Whateley Academy.
“GOGG!” The word was roared as a burning, humanoid face of whitish-blue energy rushed through buildings and fleeing crowds. Where it went, tendrils of white energy arced from its body and struck the humans, detonating them into clouds of ash.
“MAGOGG!” the Black-energy face left withered husks as the energy lancing off of it ripped the life energy from its victims.
“What the fuck is that?” Jericho asked.
Razorback started vibrating.and shrieking as he got close, every fiber of his soul screaming that these things needed to die now! The spined, raptor-like Outcast powered forward in a suicidal charge as the rocket shrieked over his head and exploded in Magogg’s face, throwing the being into a spin that crashed it into a wall.
“GOGG!” The explosive being shrieked in agony as two Magnesium shells impacted its face.
Sandra saw these things and thanked all of the gods in creation for the shielding lessons of Kuparr. These weren’t Great Old ones, but they weren’t something that her mind was intended to comprehend as she gazed upon them both astrally and physically.
A power armored suit tore its way through a shattered wall, and the underslung minigun began to sing the song of destruction as the kids recognized Dr. Diabolik’s trademarked battle armor. For once he seemed to be helping people as he swept his guns across Gogg and Magogg, firing mini-missiles at each in agonizing swarms.
“Remember me you energy-sucking shits?” Jadis’ infamous “Dr. Dad” laid in hard, shutting down the barrel of the cheery-red minigun for a moment as the cooling systems pumped away the heat.
Jericho and Caitlin answered for the two things, laying in with the Core-Ejector and another rocket. “Hey Doc, ain’t you supposed to be hanging out with Jadis and Mal right now?” Jericho patched the supervillain into the Outcast comms.
“Who is this, and how do you know about…”
“We go to school with ‘em Doc, we’re trying to get the civvies past the kill zone, those things are in our way!”
Caitlin looked back and cursed. “More incoming from the rear!”
The artificer went into a dead run, charging as fast as she could towards Diamond and the beleaguered people bringing up the back end of the human wave they were trying to lead to safety. Too many people had already died.
“All right, if you’re from Whateley, let’s do this. That your Raptor?”
“His name is Razorback.”
“The detention king?” Diabolik spoke easily even as he grabbed an empty compact car and slapped something to it. He threw the car across two city blocks, making Razor and Jericho stop, realizing just why Diabolik was a household name. His Rafe armor felt very small in the face of the twelve-foot monster that raised its cannon and blasted the car, causing an explosive wave of energy that ripped through Gogg and Magogg like it was their antithesis.
“Oh shit, what the fuck? Caitlin they’re merging like Fury!”
“GOGGMAGOGG!” The two things shrieked as they combined into a reality-shredding nightmare thing that caused everything within thirty meters to explode into shards of sand.
“Focus fire on the eyes! Goggmagogg is vulnerable to attack once they merge!”
“How does she know that?” Diabolik asked mildly as he began ripping off particle blasts from a shoulder cannon at the rapidly-dodging face of the Light-and-shadow amalgamation of Goggmagogg.
“She probably knows how to beat your armor, too.”
“Less talking, more shooting!” Caitlin spat out. “Hunter-Killers converging from the west side.”
“Roger that.”
The back plates of Diabolik’s armor disgorged hundreds of small, scarab-like things that made Jericho go a little pale. Razor was still waiting, watching Goggmagogg like a trained attack dog as the destroyer-scarabs, Jadis’ dad had used to great effect in the past, began seeking out enemy bots.
“You kids get these people to cover, I’ve handled Goggmagogg before. I’ll give you a window to get out.”
“We’re not going to get Razor away, he’s got that look in his eye like he’s about to rip voodoos.”
Caitlin tossed Diamondback her harvester as a spinning blade bot got too close. The serpentine Outcast’s reflexes were so fast that the harvester’s impossibly sharp blade went through the thing’s main chassis and slashed it open. She tossed Caitlin a Tarot Card and chanted.
“Caitlin get that card to Razorback and stick it to him! It’ll help him!”
But it was too late. As the Outcast started to divert the crowd, Goggmagogg charged at the silent, black-mottled and seemingly hapless Raptor, and Jack opened the music box that Caitlin had given him for Christmas.
Goggmagogg stopped.
* * *
The casualty predictions were coming in at an inexorable pace, though far slower than they should have. In the second hour, a full twenty-five percent of the city should have been dead. The numbers were nowhere near what they should be. Reaper checked the sectors, and found the anomaly. Life signs were pointing to a crowd of people who were close enough to Goggmagogg that they should have been dead already. The Hunter-Killers were trying to reinforce the areas around that crowd as casualties, for his minions, were brought to unacceptable levels.
There were more pockets of genuine resistance than there should have been. The sheer number of paranormals that were coming out of the woodwork was astonishing. The MCO agents and Power Armor teams had been tying up the northern sectors as expected. They should have been swept up in the aftermath as more of his machines finished their grim work and reinforced those sectors.
The crowd was an anomaly, and he tied into a tripod gun turret, watching from it’s view as it scanned the crowd. Goggmagogg was stalled, and a metal-haired girl in body armor pointed a rocket launcher as the turret swung her way, firing before it could lock her.
He cursed and swapped to an aerial unit, a machinegun-wielding hover drone that was cutting down several people fleeing towards the crowd. An angelic knight with stylized angel wings, blaring ambulance lights and sirens took the blasts on what could only be a PK field and shot once, ending the drone’s flight.
He cursed. The mutants protecting those people were doing too much damage. He had to…
Dr Reaper slammed to the side, his body hitting terminal velocity instantaneously and smashing into an office building as Hammerhead, the Brick of Overwatch Defense, was released by his partner in crime, Koala, to drop on the mass murderer.
“Get love, I’ll take this psycho down. Go find your friends.”
The Overwatch Defense team erupted into existence around Hammerhead as he pulled the beacon trigger. They stood and charged as Reaper stood, then unfolded the black, metal scythe from his armor.
“Again you interfere. No matter, you die with the rest.”
“Bring it you sideshow freak.”
* * *
Razorback looked up at the impossible face which had contorted in absolute rage moments before and chirped, setting the music box to the ground gently. He shimmied, let out a cooing, birdlike chirp, then shrieked and launched himself right into the alien face with intent to kill. The massive form of Goggmagogg tried to respond and fight, but it was as caught up in the haunting melody, that drained all emotions into a peaceful calm, as Razorback would have been had he not been created to kill things like this.
He didn’t care that the lances of energy hurt as he scaled the five-story face that disintegrated his fingers and toes as fast as he re-grew them. He didn’t care that the stray bullets from Diabolik’s minigun occasionally veered off and hit him, then healed like nothing had happened. All he saw was the pale, white, right eye that he wanted to tear out.
Diabolik saw Goggmagogg stop when the raptor kid opened the box, and the moment of hesitation could have cost them when Razorback leapt to assault the beast from God-only-knew-where. Diabolik fired, ripping away with mini-missile minigun and particle blast, trying to take out the Black eye while the thing writhed and dodged in a haze of pain.
Jericho, Caitlin and Diamondback were fully engaged and fighting, herding people away from killer robots as they slowly whittled down their numbers. Too many people were wounded. Too many others were dead.
A missile exploded too close to Caitlin, tearing her armor apart, destroying her launcher tube and shattering the machinegun. She was flung into a wall, feeling shrapnel crack and split her skin as a familiar mystic tearing began. The corona of energy caused part of her armor to dissolve like it had transmuted to water, showing matted, rigid bloodsteel threads where her blood soaked her shirt.
Two stray bullets hit her in the lower back, and left ribs, smashing into her and causing her skin to divot and crack.
To her credit, she gutted down the pain, turned and flung a chunk of concrete at the thing that shot her, smashing its face in.
Diamond flung another searing wave of emerald energy even as Joe shattered another with his shield, Core Ejector rounds all expended.
The Outcasts began to resort to hand-to-hand combat as Razorback shrieked and tore into the eye that was his target, burrowing into the skull of the dazed Goggmagogg. The beast shrieked as its most ancient enemy bored deep into its head again, shattering its concentration long enough for Diabolik to put a stream of tracer rounds right through its other eye.
Goggmagogg exploded in a flash of searing, white light, and Razor fell to the ground, skin seared off as his scales began to painfully regrow to protect his exposed flesh. As he stood, the ululating battlecry and red nictitating membranes told Jericho everything he needed to know.
He blocked Razorback and triggered the sonic grenade in his hand, and slowly lowered Razorback to the ground.
“Outcasts circle up. Razor is down. Last stand. We can’t keep going like this.”
“I’ve got you covered, boy.” Diabolik dumped the massive ammunition drum from the minigun and inserted another. “These bastards interrupted my shopping trip to get good opal Jewelry for Jadis.”
“Does she know you’re knocking over the Aussies for bling.”
Diabolik laughed and fired more mini-missiles into the oncoming killer robots. “If you knew my daughter you’d know she gets a touch offended when you give her hot goods as gifts.”
“If you wanna help us out, I’m not gonna bitch.”
“What, no hue and cry about the bad guys teaming up?”
Caitlin cut in on comms, “Less talking more shooting. Get that walking artillery engine over west, I’m getting overrun and I’m wounded.”
“Diabolik to the rescue,” the supervillain chuckled, voice dripping irony all over the street.
Diamondback whooped “Spider’s here!” Her words were punctuated by several robots being flung into the sky by Koala’s gravity plates, then smashed to the ground with enough force to shatter them.
“Why’s the fucking Wankerbolik here?” Spider almost shrieked.
“Saving our lives, shut up and leave him alone!” Jericho didn’t mean to snap, but he was getting tired as he charged and rammed a tripod, smashing it with the adamant shield that was as good as Caitlin’s claims before tearing it apart with his PK field simulation.
“HKs descending on the civilians to the north, engaging.” Jericho had to give “Dr. Dad” credit. The man was a pro, and once he started fighting in earnest, he was able to keep the Hunter-killers at bay more efficiently than all of the Outcasts combined.
“Team tactics Cait, if we live through this, definitely team tactics.” Joe was thanking God for the torture Bardue had put them all through, or all of them would be dead. “Reviving Razorback, we don’t have time to wait for him to recoup.”
“He might go berserk again!”
Joe ignored them, and ran over to where Jack had stopped Goggmagogg in its tracks and scooped up the music box, flipping the cover back down and latching it. He then ran over and popped out an injection needle on his suit’s gauntlet and gave Razor an adrenaline shot, then shocked the poor kid with the palm-mounted defibrillator pads in his armor.
Razor came conscious with an outraged shriek and jumped back, chirping, hissing and shrieking at Jericho frantically. Joe tossed Razor his precious box. “We can’t hold buddy, we need you.”
Razor considered for a moment, chirped, and moved.
Caitlin took another shot to the leg. Diamond got cut by a blade wheel. Only Jericho and diabolik were moving at full steam.
Ok, Caitlin was moving at full steam still. Jericho watched the seemingly indefatigable girl run up a wall, then climb the up several windows, using straight jumps and cat-catches so she could leap out and grab a flyer that dipped too low. She smashed the thing and tore the energy weapon from the frame, and dropped to the ground, then dug out parts from other robots and hooked them together, cobbling together a hand blaster on the fly.
Jack took the simple expedient of running at full tilt and ramming whatever was shooting, smashing it hard and then tearing at it like he was born for destruction.
“How the fuck do you stay so calm?” Jericho asked.
“Been doing this for years, son, and my armor’s built for prolonged fights.” He casually gunned down several more bots, searching for targets and watching the kids battle away. “Bluetattoo there is the only one of you that’s got any experience with this kinda thing isn’t she?”
“Yeah Caitlin’s special, she knows her way around a firefight.” jericho threw a fist-sized chunk of concrete through another blade wheel, shattering the thing. “How many of these things does that asshole have, anyway?”
“Hundreds, maybe thousands.” Diabolik didn’t call attention to the people who were being slaughtered three blocks down, he simply locked his armor in place, then engaged his sniper mode, picking off robot after robot until the panicked survivors realised the robots were being destroyed, and that the massive power armor, and its smaller ambulance-like cousin, were defending them. “If no one puts down Reaper himself, he’ll rez in more of them.”
“How will we know if he’s stopped?”
“All the shit he brought with him will de-rez.” Diabolik looked down at a shattered machinegun with a familiar piece of equipment. He grinned as he recognized the AEGIS-Loader. “Mahren finally trusted someone to use the loaders?”
“Mahren died after defending the school on Halloween,” Jericho said flatly.
“Pity, I actually liked that asshole.” Diabolik hooked the wrecked machinegun to a repair port and the internal nanoassemblers went to work repairing the destroyed heavy weapon.
Caitlin was blasting more robots when Diabolik held out the newly-repaired weapon, with the AEGIS intact, to her. “Fixed your gun.”
“I could kiss you.” Caitlin grabbed the weapon, smashed another robot with the butt of the machinegun and stepped out into the open and resumed her most effective tactic: Unrelenting suppressive fire.
“Try not to, I have enough on my plate without adding shenanigans with a minor,” he said lightly.
The outcasts were converging on a large brick building with a civil defense shelter inside. Razor and Jericho dove in, searching for more Hunter-Killers in wait and finding huddling people hiding inside. “Shelter's intact, get everyone inside!”
The boys got out as the terrified people they were protecting moved into the safe area rapidly, but without stampeding.
“You know Giz is still pissed off that Whateley still has those.” Diabolik’s manner of speech was calm, easygoing, and set the kids a lot more at ease than they otherwise would be.
“I think I can endure his irritation with an enormous amount of fortitude,” Caitlin shot back while trying not to move too much. Her machinegun tore through the ranks of the oncoming robots, then the inevitable misfeed happened, and she was forced to set the weapon aside as its feed tray cover exploded for the hundredth time since she’d started using the loaders.
“Ah, forgot about that little flaw.”
Caitlin cursed and ran forward, hooking onto a wrecked tripod and studying, then hitting a few releases, and unscrewed two bolts with her fingernails due to her supernatural strength and lifted the cannon off the tripod and ran back.
She held back behind the others as she tinkered with the cannon and the parts from her gun, cobbling together a rudimentary trigger and handle, then after several minutes, began blasting robots with massive pulses of incinerating fire that had once been used to reduce the civilians to ash.
Jericho blinked at his friend’s ingenuity and while Diamondback spat arcane epithets and caused more joints to shatter like glass shards, Jericho liberated his own cannon and began tinkering.
Diabolik chuckled, “God the other kids must hate the lot of you in the sims.” Razorback dove on yet another metal monstrosity, teaching it to play fetch with its own parts.
“Hate’s about the right word,” Diamondback said as she began laying out Tarot cards on the battlefield during a lull in the fighting.
“Fuck, here’s wave two.” Caitlin’s voice was shaky as the sky above started to begin that glitchy pattern of digitized weirdness.
“We have a few minutes. I’d ask if you wanted me to evacuate you lot, but if you took the time to herd these people to shelter you aren’t going anywhere, are you.
“Nope.”
“Not a chance.”
“Ain’t happening.”
“SHRIEK!”
“Welp, in that case, let’s even the odds.” Diabolik swapped comms frequencies. “Base one-niner, go hot. I repeat, go hot. Reaper Wave Two, Darwin. Abandon original mission and begin defense of the port and city.”
The response was immediate, and loud, as several seeming meteors shrieked in from the sky, crashing into the earth and disgorging dozens of combat robots that had been intended for a major gambit all over town.
When wave two hit, the beleaguered city defenders began praying for a miracle.
* * *
When hour four finally came around, three of the Overwatch Defense team were dead. Hammerhead had worn armor, but it hadn’t stopped Reaper’s scythe from bisecting him across the waist not seconds before. Two other bodies lay dead in the running battle that had ensued since Overwatch’s heavy hitters started trickling in.
This was the third time they had fought Doctor Reaper. It wasn’t the first time members of their team had died to him.
Thundercall blazed with lightning, her body arcing with a corona of energy as the perimeter of Syndicate soldiers flanked the Oiverwatch team and kept the bots off them. She didn’t know where the Tiger Guards had come from, but she wasn’t going to complain about the help.
When Reaper threw his Eon blast, the black bolt struck her, and over an agonizing twenty seconds, Thundercall aged five-hundred years, rapidly dying of old age, her corpse falling from the sky, putrefying, then slamming into the ground as nothing more than bleached bone and dust.
The remaining team could have run. But Doctor Reaper was horrible enough that none of them dared to risk the consequence of him winning. His bizarre, metal and dimensional shadow Grim Reaper armor showed no signs of damage. It wouldn’t until it failed catastrophically.
The humming Scythe wielded by the madman was a horrific amalgam of necrotic and destroying energy. No wound inflicted by the blade would ever heal naturally, and even magic would be touch and go. Reaper’s hallmark was the inevitability of death, and the weapons he used were chosen so that even the wounded would most likely succumb to their wounds even with top-tier medical attention.
The rapid-fire pulses of energy from GunRunner and the devisor who had come out of the woodwork to protect her home from this lunatic were having no visible effect even as Reaper seemed to pause to savor this latest death.
In reality he frantically checked his predictive algorithms. Inevitability was on his side, but the fatality rate among the citizenry had stalled at 1.3% casualty rate overall. The military cordon had recovered too many civilians, and the GSD oddballs defending people, over to the western side of town, had diverted and destroyed enough of his forces that most of the civil defense shelters were full of people waiting to meet their end, and were being fortified and defended with a ferocity heretofore unseen in this nation’s history.
Reaper pulled the trigger and began rezzing in Wave 3.
Two bricks charged, wielding whatever they could lay their hands on, but the four dead men and women of Overwatch had been the biggest known hitters on the team. The rest would inevitably succumb. All he had to do was continue to fight and be patient for the openings that always made themselves known.
* * *
The Tiger Guards and Diabolik’s assault robots had come to the rescue. Caitlin had come within a hair of going berserk at the sight of the same uniforms that had accompanied Chessmaster in his assault on Whateley, but she forced her fury back into the bottomless well she kept it in before threatening to go completely berserk.
Caitlin was used to being the aggressor, and this endless meatgrinder was getting to her.
She was in pain, she was frustrated, she had gone through every weapon she could get ahold of, opting to take one of the Personal Assault Systems the Tiger Guards were using and loading their Sabot rounds. She was fighting a battle the Marines were trained for, and that training made it very, very simple in execution.
Jericho smashed another Tripod, blasting the Blade Wheel that Rezzed above him before it had time to hit the ground. The Rafe Armor was almost untouched, the PK field held up beautifully, and the shield was more than enough to stop lasers, heat bursts and other things that used light and termperature to kill.
Diamondback and Razorback had resorted to taking cover and using rifles taken from dead Tigers. Both were exhausted, and neither really acknowledged the slashes, scrapes and near-misses. Diamond fought with three broken ribs as she fired, the recoil hammering her like a sledgehammer wielded by Stormwolf.
Koala’s power armor was coming apart at the seams, her lighter frame’s defenses were dependent upon her gravity plates, which she was putting through combat uses the devises were never intended to be applied to.
The Tigers were actually professionals, and they had followed Diabolik’s orders instantly, setting up a defensive perimeter to allow the Outcasts some breathing space, and to resupply Diabolik’s nearly spent ammunition. Caitlin was in the process of hand-reloading the power armor, and repairing two malfunctioning shield generators.
Jericho cursed as the sky began to shimmer and digitize a third time. “We can’t hold out like this. How much more of this shit can this bastard do?”
“Until Reaper dies, or whatever it is he does, this won’t stop. The last time he attacked in Russia, five waves before the Iron Hag showed up to rip his ass a new one.” Diabolik’s words were almost conversational.
“Can you take him?”
“Maybe. Depends on how much damage everyone else has done to him.”
“We’ll hold here.” Jericho paused a moment, and heard Caitlin’s voice.
“If you say it, I’ve already forgiven you, Joe.”
“You know what I’m going to say, you know why?”
“Yeah Joe, I know exactly why.” She kicked the last ammunition can away from Diabolik and picked up the newly-repaired machinegun she would never, willingly, part with.
“Diabolik, you can do more by taking down Reaper.” Joe’s voice was strangely calm and level as he made the choice to ask his allies to die. “Caitlin, cover Diabolik. Do whatever it takes to kill that fucker.”
“I’m not sure a teenager…” Diabolik heard multiple thumps as the sparking Parkour traceur climbed up the back of his armor and laid the machinegun over his shoulder.
“Shut up and move, Doc, let’s kill this asshole.”
The massive war machine, that was Doctor Diabolik’s rarely-seen combat armor, moved slowly at first, then built momentum as the girl on his back used the maintenance grips as handholds to ride him into battle like a bizarre limpet.
“You realize we’re probably not coming back from this, right?” Diabolik gave a tight comm just to Caitlin, unlinking her from the Outcast comms so they wouldn’t hear her screams if Reaper killed her.
“I’ve heard, or said that thirty-eight fucking times Doc, being wrong was getting old anyway. Felicis Fossor.”
“Lucky fools indeed.”
“Patch me through to Carson.”
“It’ll take us a few minutes to get to Reaper, why not?” Caitlin laid in with the machinegun as Diabolik smashed his way through a group of killer robots that were engaging his own combat droids. The metal-haired machinegunner on his back was able to pick out the enemy machines and almost exclusively hit them. “Nice shooting, Since when do machinegunners actually learn to aim?”
“Since I decided I want to be alive when the shooting stops.” She let loose another burst at more droids as a phone dial tone chirped merrily in her ear.
“Hello?” The phone clicked and she heard Carson’s voice on the comms.
“Bet you’re getting tired of hearing my fucking voice whenever I take people on a field trip.” Caitlin continued firing for a second as Diabolik added his own particle blasts to the mix. “Guess where I am?”
“Eldritch, where are the Outcasts and Koala?”
“Fuck, warn me before you ram a wall, dick!” Caitlin ducked in time to avoid getting pasted with large chunks of rubble as the supervillain she was riding ran straight for the heart of the ongoing, city-wide battle. “Outcasts and Koala are having an Alamo moment, get the coordinates from Doc Diabolik. Me’n She-Beast’s dad are moving to engage Reaper.”
“Caitlin, you can’t fight Reap…”
“Not asking your permission Carson, and I’m not letting the others die if I can help it. The Outcasts are defending a civil defense shelter full of civvies. Hundreds, including members of Jericho and Razorback’s families. Find a way to get them the fuck out, all of them.”
“What do you intend to do?”
“Same thing I do every night Carson, try and find new and interesting ways to kill people more powerful than me.” Caitlin paused, dropping the flippant manner for a second. “When the Outcasts get home, Carson, they need to see Bellows. Not when it’s scheduled. They need to see him as soon as they’re off the fucking plane. This is worse than anything they saw on Halloween. Razor helped Diabolik take down GoggMagogg, Jericho’s been making decisions that have saved a lot of people, but he wasn’t ready to lead a war. Diamondback’s gotten fucked up nonstop since we came to Oz.”
“We’ll get them out Caitlin. We’ll come for you.”
“No you won’t. Reaper dies or I die. No compromise. Eldritch out.”
“I sent Carson the coordinates. Interesting conversation. Care to explain?”
“You care to explain to me how you got into Camp Pendleton’s Deep Vault where the M-SOC gadgeteers keep the big guns?”
“Not really.”
“There’s your answer.”
The war heated up as Diabolik smashed through the last cordon of robots, and the Tiger Guards, keeping the Hunter-Killer robots off of the remains of the Overwatch Defense team, ceased fire long enough to let the two lunatics through.
Caitlin could see Reaper four-hundred meters down a street of annihilated store fronts. Bodies littered the ground where he, or his machines, had murdered people casually and without mercy. “Get me to three hundred and holy fuck, stop!”
The distortion bubble they almost ran through popped as a lone figure erupted from nothing. The massive power frame skidded to a halt as the odd man with chiseled features and sad, old eyes turned to look at them.
He wore a Waffen S.S. uniform, stripped completely of decorations, insignia and identifying markers. He looked like he had absolutely no fear, whatsoever, and he raised a hand as Diabolik cut in the PA system. “I’m not your enemy today, Konrad. I’m here for the Reaper’s head.”
Unverziehen, Unforgiven in German, considered for a moment, then nodded once. Caitlin prepped and laid in the gun. “I’ll get his attention, you two go for the kill.”
“I don’t think…”
“You two have the chops to wipe him out, I don’t. Let me do my thing, you do yours!”
Unverziehen simply nodded and flickered out of existence, then the explosions, around where Reaper was, began anew, and in earnest. “Alright, since I can’t talk you out of this, how about a little mood music?”
“This is your show, Doc, lay me a beat and I’ll dance to the tune.”
Diabolik chuckled and charged, the PA on his suit thundering out a heavy metal riff old enough to be considered “old people music” the thundering footfalls keeping time with the beat as Metallica’s thundering riffs played out over the Australian landscape.
Caitlin laid into the gun hard as James Hetfield’s voice tore into space, thundering her gun at the full cycling rate, holding down the trigger and not letting go.
Lashing out the action, returning the reaction
Weak are ripped and torn away
Hypnotizing power, crushing all that cower
Battery is here to stay
Diabolik started firing as he ran, adding into the chaos as the German World War II veteran, from the German, side cut loose, blasting Reaper and causing the remaining Overwatch team to scatter. Missiles flew from the power armor’s chest as the supers cut loose with literally everything they had, holding nothing back against a lunatic who was trying to render humanity extinct.
Smashing through the boundaries
Lunacy has found me
Cannot stop the battery
Pounding out aggression
Turns into obsession
Cannot kill the battery
Caitlin knew her shots were nothing more than an annoyance to the supervillain trying to murder anyone, but she didn’t care. As Diabolik and the long-repentant ex-nazi soldier attacked, Caitlin remembered the Lamplighter, and set her sights on this battle’s lamp. If Reaper’s Scythe could be removed from play, then the odds would even out in favor of the defenders.
Unverziehen was an enigma to most people, the insanely potent warper had been a member of the combat arm of the German SS, and had not been privy to the war crimes of Auschwitz, Dachau, Sobibor and other places. The man and Caitlin shared something similar: guilt. He felt responsible for what his country did during the war, and though her crimes paled in comparison to what the Nazis had done during that war, the A-List hero, who still could not forgive himself, hadn’t physically committed any of the crimes he bore the shame of.
Caitlin was a bit more gray in that area. She had committed the crimes she was wanted for in various places. She had committed murders and assassinations of people and inflicted collateral damage, on a horrific level, in the name of survival. And now, she was going to see if all of that experience killing might help her sleep at night.
Cannot kill the family
Battery is found in me
Battery
Battery
Caitlin abandoned her gun and dropped off of Diabolik’s back, abruptly, letting the ripping, uncontrolled essence play across the wounds where her tattoos had been marred. She hit the ground running, and shot out from under Diabolik’s armored legs like a greyhound chasing a rabbit, vaulting a car hood, and skidding across like it was built for her to slide on. She didn’t bring a gun, or a knife, her harvester would be next to useless as she charged straight into the mouth of death.
She dropped into her parkour trance and flowed, rushing across obstacles, over them, dropping to slide under a city bus that jumped from its position, blasted back towards Jadis’ father as she came back to her feet and rushed.
It was a tiny, sentimental part of her that realized her life had come full-circle as she, and her allies, assaulted a mass murderer in the little memorial park where the Dragonslayers had killed Connor Edwards.
Crushing all deceivers, mashing non-believers
Never-ending potency
Hungry violence-seeker, feeding off the weaker
Breeding on insanity
Diabolik and Unverziehen caught sight of her rush and poured on the fire. The spatial shocks the warper directed at Reaper slammed him around like a rag doll, and Diabolik’s missile and minigun fire staggered the bastard while two devisors flanking Reaper were frantically pouring laser fire into the killer’s side. The chaos made it very difficult to see Caitlin’s attack, but reaper did, and the black bolt flung from his seemingly outstretched hand struck her in the chest and engulfed her body.
The Whateley Range React Armor tore apart as it disintegrated under the weight of years, tearing away and falling to dust as Caitlin’s suddenly stone-like body ignored the killer’s manipulations of time. It was kind of hard to age to death a creature engineered to be an ageless slave, laboring away for eternity.
Smashing through the boundaries
Lunacy has found me
Cannot stop the battery
Pounding out aggression
Turns into obsession
Cannot kill the battery
Reaper blasted her again, and this time, Caitlin dropped and slid as she came close, falling like he’d hurt her, sliding into his legs and slamming her arms back, twisting and hooking her legs around the arm holding the scythe and then spinning, grabbing, pulling and rolling away with her prize, the killing blade that had slaughtered so many people over the years. Within seconds, she knew how to use it, and that if her body had still been made of flesh and bone, her death would have been horrific for her temerity in touching the thing.
Cannot kill the family
Battery is found in me
Battery
Battery
“That girl is insane.” Diabolik laid back in and charged, taking advantage of Caitlin’s sudden suicide rush, and unexpected survival in the face of Reaper’s entropic attacks, to blast the suddenly disarmed opponent full on with his particle beams. His German sometimes-enemy followed suit as the metal-haired young woman rolled and ran, carrying her prize away from its former owner. “How the hell are you alive?”
“I’m a goddamned miracle in action, now kill that fucker!”
Diabolik cut loose with every single weapon he had, obliging Eldritch’s demand as Unverziehen charged. Exemplar Sevens with warper powers as potent as the ex-Nazi’s were rare and feared. Where Reaper was at the top of the Supervillain A-List, Unverziehen was near the top of the A-List for heroes, rated somewhat higher than Champion and Lady Astarte. Backed up with eighty years of combat experience, the stoic, sullen hero, who almost never spoke, was nothing short of lethal.
Circle of destruction, hammer comes crushing
Powerhouse of energy
Whipping up a fury, dominating flurry
We create the battery
Everyone’s luck had to run out sooner or later.
Reaper took two solid hits, then grabbed the hand streaking in for another attack, giving way, and failing to stop the strike, but blasting Unverziehen in the arm with his Eon Burst.
Unverziehen’s left hand, then arm, withered, then putrefied, then sloughed off as the man screamed in agony. Reaper grabbed him by the throat as he fell to his knees, and hit him again. Eighty-one years after Konrad Hauptmann had given up his place among the hated Germans in the second world war, death finally came for him. Reaper silently thrilled at the demoralizing blow this murder would deliver to the defenders.
Smashing through the boundaries
Lunacy has found me
Cannot stop the battery
Pounding out aggression
Turns into obsession
Cannot kill the battery
Contrary to what people expected of Hollywood, real small-scale fights to the death were rarely minutes, or hours-long epics of endurance or skill. They are brutal, bloody affairs that are decided in seconds. When Unverziehen and Diabolik entered the battle together, the clock started ticking. When Caitlin stole the Scythe, the clock ticked faster.
When Reaper let himself be distracted by the opportunity to finish off one of the longest-surviving “heroes” of the twentieth century, Caitlin Bardue came up behind him and completely abandoned all pretense of honorable combat. She reared back behind the armored man and slashed Reaper’s own Scythe through his knees, dropping him to the ground, on stumps, as Diabolik moved in for the kill. Caitlin helpfully kicked the shocked man in the spine, knocking him on his face.
A massive, armored foot slammed down on Reaper’s back, and thighs, pinning him to his own divot in the concrete. Jadis’ father pressed the particle cannon on his left arm to the back of Reaper’s head and fired right into the back of the monster’s head, again and again and again, until the world’s most hated supervillain succumbed, and seemed to dissolve into pixelated nothing, while every killer robot he’d brought with him suffered the same fate.
Caitlin leaned on the scythe, looking at the mess, and breathed a sigh of relief. Once again, she was alive. “I’ve heard it thirty-nine times now, Doc. Doesn’t anyone ever get tired of being wrong?”
Dr Diabolik let loose a shuddering breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding, laughing suddenly, painfully at the absurdity of the Whateley student’s statement. When he recovered he looked at her. “Why didn’t the Scythe go with him?”
Caitlin grinned and pulled out a small, mangled piece of metal with odd circuitry and held it up. “I tore this out of it before I offered him a place to lie down. It’s whatever he needed to recall it and everything else. Do me a favor, see what you can do to figure out where he keeps vanishing to. I’m sure he would love to entertain houseguests.” Her last words were delivered with such cold-blooded ferocity that Dr. Diabolik had to wonder what kind of kids Whateley was training now.
* * *
When the robots started dissolving in a pixelated, bizarre lightshow that left no evidence save dead, burned out husks of assault robots, both Razorback and Diamondback collapsed, exhausted and starving as the adrenaline they had been living on for hours finally crashed on them. Jericho disbelievingly dropped to his knees, then popped his helmet open so he could throw up messily on the torn-up pavement.
When he was done emptying the bile that had pooled in his guts, he closed his helmet, and forced the system to pump his bloodstream full of specially-tailored stimulants that were custom designed for his body and metabolism. It worked better than coffee ever could as he grimly activated his Rafe Armor’s Triage and Search-and Rescue functions.
People were still wounded. Those wounded would probably die, despite treatment. That couldn’t stop him from trying as he, blessedly, was able to quit fighting, and begin the long process of finding survivors and saving lives. He closed the eyes of too many people for the last time.
* * *
January 3rd, 2007, Whateley Academy Gate
The death toll could have been a lot worse. Too many people had lost lives, businesses or homes, and it would take a long time for Darwin to recover from the attack. Diabolik was gone, having vanished within hours of Reaper’s destruction and exodus from reality. Caitlin was torn up badly, and her body would take a week to fully mend, most likely.
Jericho had not expected her to shake his hand, and hug him in the aftermath after he had ordered her to go and likely die fighting a monster even Carson herself was leery of engaging. When his brother came out of the shelter, Jericho couldn’t bring himself to let go of his brother for more than an hour, crying for the people he hadn’t saved, and crying because of the ones he had.
Razorback had sat on Adam and his mother for days, refusing to let them out of his sight until he fas fully convinced the monster wasn’t coming back.
Mrs. Turner had greeted Diamondback with grim news after the poor girl had just finished fighting a war she was never prepared for. Her brother, Matthew, had gone missing. Her parents had contacted the Turners to find out if they knew where their boy had gone. The worst part was she knew they blamed her for his disappearance, as they blamed her for the disappearance of their pure, good child Ryan.
Caitlin had folded Reaper’s scythe back into it’s carry configuration, and had figured out how to turn the thing off, so it wouldn’t kill anyone by accident. She joined her friends in searching for survivors, digging out people trapped in wrecked buildings, and laying to rest the people who had not made it. It was all so very unfair, and she had to wonder how many people might have been saved had she and Diabolik simply attacked Reaper as soon as they had found him.
The realistic part of her knew that both of them would probably be dead. Reaper’s seeming invulnerability had a limit, one that had been whittled down by the members of the supers team who had rescued Razorback from a life as a feral monster in the outback. Eight out of the twenty members were still alive.
Koala had lost her mother when Reaper murdered Thundercall. Her father was still alive, though it was uncertain if their team’s mage would be able to heal him enough to save his life. No one had tried to pry her away from her father's bedside as she frantically worked to build a devise to halt the damage inflicted on the man by the Reaper's scythe.
It had not been a good week.
When it was evident that they had done all they could, the Outcasts and their families retreated to the Carlyle home and stayed close to each other. The Turners and Carlyles had been terrified to know that their children had been fighting a running battle to save lives, and their efforts had been mostly successful. Each one of the three who could sleep had nightmares of things going much, much worse.
Caitlin stayed close to shake them out of the nightmares so they could find peace. Nobody really wanted to talk. She was using a crutch to move, her back and leg were more damaged than she realized, barely able to hold her weight when she wasn’t focused on staying upright. Her skin had cracked and pitted like stone, not skin. Her blood congealed and hardened into a metal sheath over her wounds.
When the four got out of the small van used to transport them to the school that was their home in many ways, Diamondback finally started crying. Caitlin bottled up her nightmares with the others she’d kept for years, and hid them away so she couldn’t look at them. Jericho still felt guilty for sending Caitlin into what he had known would very likely kill her. Razorback, oddly was the most calm and normal. Caitlin suspected it had a lot to do with the monster spirit Diamond had seen, the one powerful enough to subsume Jack’s body entirely. It was probably protecting him from the nightmares, allowing him to help Caitlin walk their friends through their troubles.
Razorback’s music box had been playing nonstop, as they slept, once the Outcasts discovered that the eerie tunes quelled the horrible dreams.
They were early for the winter semester, and Alfred Bellows, Elizabeth Carson, and Gunny Bardue were waiting to help them find some peace of mind. Razor guided Diamond along behind the psychologist, Carson delicately led the blind Outcast leader towards Schuster Hall.
Bardue took his adopted “Daughter” back to the village to share a bottle of scotch and let Caitlin’s shakes come and go once she no longer had to put on a strong face for her friends. Caitlin, in turn, spent a day cutting runes into Reaper's scythe that would allow her to banish the blade into a pocket of nowhere that only she could access. Reaper's Scythe was her trophy from the battle, and it would kill any other person who touched it while it was active.
* * *
Carson helped Joe into a seat shakily and offered him a cup of coffee, fresh from the devisor pot she’d started up early.
“Are you going to be alright, Joe?”
“I have no clue. I don’t know if I’ll ever be alright after seeing what that bastard did to all of those people.”
Carson nodded. “I’ve fought him before. I know what he does, and I’ve seen the aftermath. What happened?”
Joe was close to tears. “We were just going to a movie when all of the cars stopped working, the radio playing this godawful message about how that fucker had a heavy heart but all of us in Darwin had to die for the sake of humanity. Jack’s mom, his baby brother, my brother…”
Carson let Joe collect his thoughts as he let out a shuddering sob. “They were with us, we’d just gotten food, were getting ready to go back to the house when Caitlin started screaming. She said everyone needed to run, and that Reaper was coming. She saw the signs in the sky of the materialization of the killer bots. Then the planes started falling from the sky like dead birds.”
Elizabeth Carson didn’t judge, didn’t lecture, for one merciful night, as she listened to Joe Turner talk about the nightmare he lived through that had come on the heels of one of the best Christmas breaks he had ever enjoyed. She talked him through watching people die, the decisions he made to save as many as he could, letting him know that he wasn’t at fault, for playing the numbers game, with lives, to save as many as he could.
When the Outcasts were put to bed together in Hawthorne common room, Caitlin stood watch, armed. She didn’t know that her friends’ memories were being guarded by Louis, or that the Psychic Arts Teachers had been pulled in to work the Outcasts through the trauma in their waking hours, and their dreams. She was the only one they weren’t allowed to help. She’d never let them.
When the first kids started trickling back onto campus, Caitlin was as functional as she ever was, meaning on the ragged edge, but Joe, Sandra and Jack were coming around. The constant work done with the three of them wasn’t a memory band-aid, nor any kind of quick-fix. The expert minds of Whateley Academy helped the children shore up their willpower, and guided them through their own actions, and those of their friends, to help them see that they weren’t at fault for what had happened, that feeling guilty for surviving wasn’t what they should be doing.
It wasn’t a quick-fix, but it was a start. They would simply need a few months of relative (for them) calm to recover.
* * *
Sandra awoke to the whimpering cries of her roomate, Trisha, the perpetual misery engine of her existence. As she opened her eyes, she saw something crouching over her roommate, a humanoid, spined thing that ecstatically cried as it fed the poor girl visions of being murdered and eaten by her roommate… by Diamondback. Every time the thing caressed the doe-like GSD girl she cried out, whimpering in terror in her sleep.
Trisha was startled awake by the shrieked “YOU MOTHERFUCKER!” that came from her roommate. When she opened her terrified eyes, she felt a weight lifted from her pounding heart and Diamondback tore a translucent, spined barely-seen thing from her bed and literally tore it apart.
Trisha screamed as her enraged roommate tore out of their shared room into Whitman Hall, hunting for the things in her cottage that were feeding on the misery of her friends and neighbors.
Mrs. Savage almost fought the girl when she ripped a translucent monstrosity that became semi-visible the instant Diamondback’s hand wrapped around its throat and squeezed. The fog lifted from her mind as she realized, all at once, the hell that Diamondback and Psydoe had endured with each other. The serpent-girl was already gone, tearing through the cottage on a shrieking rampage that saw many other translucent things assaulted and torn apart as the enraged Outcast vented her frustration, guilt and fury on the monsters only she could touch and see.
Fubar and Doctor Bellows took three hours talking down the berserk GSD girl as she attacked and tried to kill every single spirit in Whitman hall, that wasn’t part of an Avatar, that she could put her hands on.
* * *
“Hey Jadis! I need to talk to you about your dad!” Joe couldn’t quite keep the edge out of his voice, and he saw Jadis Diabolik tense up as though she were thinking not this again…
She-Beast gave Jericho a flat look as the blind Devisor tapped his cane away at the ground near her, maybe fooling the kids around them, but she wasn’t an idiot. “What do you want, Jericho? I don’t have any control over what my father doe...OOF!”
An attack she could understand, a screaming tirade even. She could even cope with accusations of familial wrongdoing. Of all the things Jadis Diabolik was not expecting, being hugged by the one-man war on fashion, that was Jericho, was not one of them. Quite honestly, she was a bit freaked as this particular outcome had never once occurred to her, not knowing how to react as Jericho spoke quietly.
“He saved our lives, if you talk to him, tell him thanks, please.”
“o….Okaaay?” Jadis turned to Nacht as the inexplicable Outcast started walking away. Kate was just as horribly confused by the whole thing as she was.
“If you need help, your Dad bought you a big marker.” Jericho’s voice was very clear as he walked away.
“What the fuck just happened?” Jadis blinked several times, trying to figure out that exact question.
* * *
Doctor Reaper was in agony. The recovery period from being defeated was always excruciating. This time doubly so, as his lower legs had been removed by a blade built to make sure that no wound inflicted by it would heal, a weapon taken as a trophy by that magically unstable woman right before that idiot Diabolik had ended his existence in that thread of potential.
Darwin had been an unmitigated failure. He hadn’t even managed to destroy five percent of the population, much less the goal of eighty that he had been aiming for. The majority of humanity had to die, or the whole would be lost. He could not fail.
Reaper screamed in agony as the medical bots tore away the ruined flesh on his legs and began fusing cybernetic components in their place to replace the limbs he had lost. Until the memory imprints were fully updated in all of his clones, Dr. Reaper simply could not afford to allow himself to die.
He would have to try again. If Darwin could not be obliterated, then he would have to achieve 95% when his attack on Chicago commenced.
Fin.