A Whateley Academy Fan Fiction Tale

How Far

by Domoviye

June, 2000
Near Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario

Isaac fixed his dark black straw hat as he rode his horse along the small highway. The day was beautiful and since he'd finished his chores early his father had let him leave early to play with his friends. He came to the stall run by Mrs. Lengacher and her daughters, selling pies, quilts, and produce.

“Good afternoon, Isaac. Are you looking for Jacob?” she asked in Pennsylvanian Dutch, straightening her white apron.

“Yes, ma'am,” he answered.

“He is in the workshop helping his father. He should be almost done,” she told him.

“Thank you, ma'am,” he said, getting his horse back into a walk.

The simple wooden workshop was fairly large, a diesel generator roared loudly and Isaac heard saws, sanders and lathes inside. Jumping off his horse, he tied it up to a post, and went inside where five men in blue shirts, black pants and hats, with dark suspenders were making furniture. Jacob was pushing a broom, sweeping up the sawdust and woodchips. Without being asked, Isaac grabbed another broom and began sweeping as well. The men who noticed him helping nodded in approval, before turning back to their work.

“All done?” he asked Jacob.

“Maybe. Let me go ask father.”

They both went to the back of the shop, and Jacob knocked on the door before opening it. His father was inside working at a computer, pulling gently on his long thick beard in thought. “All done?” he asked without looking up.

“Yes, father. Can I go play baseball now?” Jacob asked.

“Yes you may, remember to be home in time for supper.”

“Thank you!” Jacob said, as they rushed out.

While Isaac got his horse, Jacob grabbed his bicycle and they headed to the baseball field that was the main play area for the Amish boys of community. Most of their friends were already there, with bats, gloves and balls ready to play.

Isaac felt his heart drop as he saw a bunch of boys from the nearby town come up. There usually wasn't much trouble between the English and the new Amish community, but he knew the big boy with the blond hair Jason. He was a trouble maker and seemed to enjoy making fun of them for their clothes, accent, manners and everything else.

“Hey idiots we're playing here!” Jason yelled at them.

“You don't even have a ball,” Abram said.

Jason went up and grabbed the ball Abram was holding. “Now I do,” the bully sneered while his friends laughed.

Isaac watched as his friends clutched their things a little more tightly and turned to go before things got worse. Violence was evil, any kind of violence, better to leave before things got worse and someone got hurt they could play baseball in another field.

“Hey, we need some bats to,” Jason said. “Let's go get some!”

The English kids ran at his friends trying to whatever they wanted. Isaac saw Abram fall to the ground as someone punched him. Without thinking Isaac jumped down from his horse and waded into the mess. Jason was kicking Abram who was on the ground trying to protect himself.

Grabbing the larger boy by his t-shirt, Isaac made a fist and punched the bully as hard as he could in the face. Even at ten years old he was strong from having worked in his father's field for years, his punch was badly done but it was enough to pulp Jason's nose. He watched in horror as the boy fell crying blood dripping from between his fingers which covered his face.

Everyone stopped shocked at what had happened.

“You can't do that!” one of the English kids yelled.

“I just did, and I'll do it again!” Isaac said.

One of Jason's friends helped him up and they took off. Isaac turned to his friends looking at him in amazement. They didn't play baseball that day.

At home, he told his parents everything. He didn't even consider lying to them his bruised knuckles were proof of what he'd done.

His father bent him over and spanked him hard with a paddle. After supper they read the bible about turning the other cheek, how violence was a sin and how violence beget violence. Isaac listened silently, ashamed of what he'd done whenever he looked at his mother who refused to look in his direction.

For punishment he was only allowed to go to school and do his chores for two weeks. When he wasn't doing that he had to pray asking God to help overcome his weakness and anger.

April, 2007

Issac looked over the solar panel, thinking how it could be made better. Since the church leaders led by the Bishop two years before had declared the use of solar panels for business acceptable, his father had begun selling and installing them. Almost all the Amish businesses and a growing number of English towns people had them now. The Amish who didn't would ask his father to charge their batteries for them, it was cheaper than using diesel generators and quieter to.

He had stopped going to school three years ago when he finished grade eight, but he worked beside his father as a repairman and blacksmith for the family business, his father said no one else could fix a machine as quickly as Isaac. It had been Isaac who'd pushed his father into solar energy after reading a magazine about it. His mind just seemed to latch onto it and that had been all he could think about for weeks.

When they'd finally gotten permission to try solar panels in their own shop Isaac had done almost all the work, reading the instructions once and spotting lots of different ways to improve the connections and speed it up. Since then he'd improved the energy output by over fifty percent and if his father would just let him experiment a little more he was certain he could double it, to say nothing of improving the batteries. He'd become so well known working with his father not only in the nearby towns but in Sault Ste. Marie itself, he'd been interviewed by a local newspaper. He'd wanted to get a clipping from it but his father said it would be too prideful, so he'd had to settle for reading it and having his friend Abram save it for him.

Still it was just three weeks until his sixteenth birthday, then he'd be considered almost an adult and he could start doing his own experiments without having to ask his fathers permission all the time. And he could take the newspaper clipping back.

There was a knock on the workshop door and Abram walked in wearing English clothes, a pair of rugged blue jeans and a button up black shirt. He'd turned sixteen over a month ago and had started his Rumspringa, a time to experiment with the English world and to look for a potential wife while he decided if he'd be baptized into the church or not.

“Good evening, Mr. Graber,” Abram said to Isaac's father in Pennsylvanian Dutch, “I'm hoping that Isaac could come out with us for the evening. There is a band called 'The Good Way' playing in the church at Blind River we're going to see.”

Isaac watched his father out of the corner of his eye as the old man considered it. If it was a few months ago it would probably be turned down out of hand as too English, but so close to his sixteenth birthday Isaac was slowly getting some extra privileges.

“All right as long as you have him back by ten. We're going into the city on business tomorrow and I need him well rested,” his father said.

“Of course sir,” Abram said. “Come on Isaac we're going in Melvin's car,” he said switching to English.

“Thank you father,” Isaac said, putting everything away. A minute later he was out the door stepping out into the warm evening air.

The old black miniva, which Isaac had helped repair after Melvin bought it on his eighteenth birthday, was waiting for them. Isaac sat in the back beside Abram and Jacob. Two girls sat in the seats in front of them. Mary who was a month older than Isaac smiled shyly at him. He wasn't sure what to do being so close to the girl, especially because she was beautiful wearing a flowery purple bandana over her hair, a calf length black dress that was much tighter than any woman he knew would wear and a black blouse under a denim jacket. So he just smiled and said hello to her and Hannah, who was dressed like Mary except with a red bandana.

Jacob handed him a can of coke the fifth one Isaac had ever tried.

“Seat belts,” Melvin said from the drivers seat his arm around his girlfriend Esther, another Amish girl experimenting at being an adult. Everyone said they'd probably get married in about year, after they got baptized. They were already looking at an old farm that the current owner was using mostly as a hobby farm and was having trouble doing even that now that he was in his seventies. The land was cheap this far north which was one reason the Amish community had moved there at the turn of the millennium.

They talked about the Christian band they were going to see, Melvin had heard about them on the net and everyone except Isaac had had a chance to listen to some of their songs. As they drove down the road he kept looking out the back window, he thought he could make out something flying in the sky, but whenever he looked directly at it, the thing seemed to vanished. It was only visible out of the corner of his eye and it seemed to be shaped like a giant person. Shaking his head Isaac tried to ignore it. He knew the bigger cities had superheroes, demons and things like that but no one bothered with this area, there wasn't anything anyone wanted there except lots of lumber and mines.

They reached the church and went to the short line of people waiting for tickets. He smiled shyly at Mary trying to think of what to say as she looked at the ground her cheeks flushed.

Isaac had just thought of something clever when the ground shook. A ten foot tall machine in the form of a human stood in the centre of the parking lot.

People screamed and ran. Isaac grabbed Mary and the other girls shoving them towards the door of the church putting himself between them and whatever had just landed.

There was a whine and a hiss of air, a metal net encircled Isaac sending him to the ground. He screamed for help, but before his friends could do more than turn around he was shooting through the air straight towards the machine. His neck and back jerked painfully as he came to a stop dangling in the air actually bumping against the waist of the machine.

There was a puff of air and Isaac smelled a sweet smoke. Everything started to turn dark as the robot flew into the air.

A bucket of water followed by a kick in the ribs woke Isaac up. With cramped muscles and a foggy brain he struggled to sit up and figure out what was going on.

“Hey dip shit!” a harsh voice shouted, kicking him in the side again. “Time to get to work.”

“Work?” Isaac slurred, his tongue felt ten times too large for his mouth.

“Yeah. I heard you're some hotshot mechanic. So you you'd better hope you're good enough to do what I want or you're going to beg me to kill you before I'm done with you,” the man said.

Isaac blinked, rubbing his eyes to see clearly. He saw that he was in a large metal workshop, tools he'd never seen before were hanging from the walls. The man, who looked like he could lift a horse, was bald, covered in tattoos and scars.

“What do you need?” he asked.

“I need a new power system for my power armour. You have to build it for me. Don't do it, I hurt you. You do it, I reward you. It's very simple for even a medieval simpleton like you to figure it out,” the man said.

He stared at the room, wondering how he'd get out.

The man kicked him again for his trouble. “Get to work the clock is ticking.”

Isaac stared at the machine in front of him. All day yesterday he'd been reading over blueprints and notes in a lot of different handwriting and styles, looking over the batteries and power system of the power armour. In the hideout, wherever that was, there was a hoard of machines, many of them he couldn't even guess at, others he knew all too well weapons designed to kill and cause pain.

The prizes were four suits of power armour. The large one that had kidnapped him, a small suit clearly made for a woman laced with wires and a fairly large pack on its back, another suit covered in blades, and the fourth that looked like it could rip apart a tank with its hands. It was that last one he was fixing now. The energy pack on it's back made no sense but somehow he had to fix it. He could understand how everything else worked on the machine, but the magnets, burned out steel tubes and a residue he couldn't place, were a total blank to him.

Still from reading everything something clicked in his mind, all it needed was a strong enough energy source. Solar power wouldn't work well enough, but he had been considering using some homegrown crystals that mimicked the effect much more efficiently. If he made them in a certain pattern, he could use a low power laser and create power, then he'd just have to wire it up.

Once that was done maybe he could go home.

His kidnapper came in with a microwave dinner the same thing he'd been fed that morning, and twice the day before. Compared to the meals he usually ate it was comparable to what he'd feed a pig, how anyone would willingly eat the mushy vegetables, the tasteless gristly meat and the block of cardboard they called a dessert he didn't know.

Still his stomach growled for food. So with the thick metal chains around his wrists, ankles and neck clinking he moved to the small table where he was to eat away from the tools and equipment. Picking up the fork he dug in.

“When can I expect a new power source?” the man asked. He hadn't told Isaac his name seeming to enjoy being called sir all the time.

“I need to grow some crystals and test them and I'll need to make a laser. I've only thought about it before so I don't know, at least a week, sir.”

The man glared at him, the scar stretching from his hair all the way down to his jaw on the right side of his face twisted it into something demonic. “Then you'd best get started. Make me a list of what you need and I'll have it for you.”

“Yes, sir,” he said. His fork hit the table as the tray of food was taken away less than half eaten.

Throwing the food in the garbage can beside the door the man said, “You're in a hurry so let's not have any delays.”

There was no use getting angry, he couldn't change anything, anger would just drag him down to the same level as his kidnapper and cloud his judgment. “Yes, sir.”

Walking back to his work station, he began writing down everything he'd need. It was pretty easy, he'd read as many books as he could about power generation, ordering them online from his Fathers business computer and even started reading scientific papers. His Father had been worried that he would become too proud from his education but hadn't stopped him. All he had to do now was remember the formulas he'd developed.

With his stomach growling he handed over the list and began drawing out the plans for the laser. He could use the schematics for a laser weapon he'd seen the day with some fine tuning.

One Week Later

Isaac fired the laser into the crystal matrix. He'd lost a little weight after eating just one meal a day but his hands were steady and his mind was clear. If this worked it could revolutionize solar power.

The crystals glowed. The sensors he'd attached to them showed that power was being generated, far exceeding what the laser was using. He increased the power, it wasn't at the necessary level to power the armour yet but with just a touch more energy it should be. The crystals glowed red, putting off as much heat as a small stove. He hit the switch turning the laser off and the glow slowly faded, when it was once more transparent except for a misty white he saw it was covered in cracks and the edges had begun to drip like wax.

His kidnapper who had been watching from the door walked up beside him. “I see this wasn't a success. Can you fix it?”

“Yes,” Isaac said simply studying the crystal. He didn't bother explaining things it was one small act of defiance to only answer exactly what was asked.

“How soon?”

“Three or four days.”

“Get to work,” the man said walking out of the room.

That evening Isaac was fed supper, much to his surprise.

Twelve Days Later

Sweating in the tight confines of the suit, Isaac carefully soldered the wires coming from the armoured box onto the right wires from the power armour. The cables which transferred the power were already in place, this was just for monitoring the power source. The freezing system, the laser, the sensors ensuring the integrity of the crystals, they were more fragile than he would like but it was the best he could do in the time allowed.

He was glad he only had to work on the power system. He'd tried to make sense of the programming, the armour, the sensors and the rest of the machine. He could understand some of it, but most had left him feeling stupid and confused. With two meals a day he was feeling better, but he was still ragged from getting just five or six hours of sleep a night and when he wasn't eating having to think and work on the machine with no real breaks. But it was almost done, he could go home soon and that was all that mattered.

Finishing the job, he crawled out making sure the armoured hatch was properly sealed after him. It snapped into place through an intricate locking system that made it seem almost seamless.

“It's done sir,” he said, his throat felt strange from talking so little for almost three weeks.

The scarred man grinned. “Let's see if it works.”

Isaac walked well away from the machine, his chains clinking. The man climbed in through a hatch in the upper back. Two minutes later the machine began to hum, within five minutes the thick arms moved and the stumpy, elephantine legs took a small step forward. Part of the metal wall slid open revealing a dimly lit hallway, the machine moved towards with growing confidence and the wall slid shut.

With nothing better to do Isaac put the tools he'd been using away in the tool box. Every tool and piece of equipment was locked away behind glass that he couldn't even scratch and sealed with digital locks. He had to make a list of the tools he'd need for the day in the morning and his kidnapper would put them in the tool box. If there was any tool that could possibly help him escape it was only used when the man was in the room. And if he needed a tool he hadn't listed he had to call the man through the intercom. It was slow and frustrating but the man wanted him under his absolute control.

With free time and no threat of violence hanging over his head, Isaac got on his knees and prayed for strength and that one day he would understand why this had happened.

Several hours later one of the wall panels lit up, catching Isaac by surprise, he had had no idea it was a TV. He saw in captions below that they were showing a scene from the city of Sudbury, which was at least four hours away.

Explosions ripped across the screen, and a costumed woman who was at least thirty feet tall fell with a crash in the street, blood poured from her scalp forming a small lake. People were running from burning buildings as more explosions ripped away entire walls. A man dodged the explosions, his jet pack moving him like a humming bird while he fired bursts of blazing blue energy back at his attacker.

“Paulette Bunyan has just fallen!” a reporter shouted. “I'm not sure if she's alive. Grinder is still fighting but the Sadist is not holding back. The police and the heroes are trying to lead Sadist to Bell Park, hoping to limit the collateral damage which is already horrific. If you are anywhere on the west side of Ramsey Lake, please stay in your homes or businesses and get away from the windows. If you are on the street get inside immediately.”

The villain Sadist appeared on screen. A whimper rose in Isaac's throat. The villain was wearing the armour he'd repaired. The bulky armour took an energy blast scorching the metal but doing almost no real damage. The power armour fired back with two missiles. The hero Grinde, flew in a crazy pattern, that was almost too complicated for the camera to follow, desperately firing at the missiles. One of the missiles exploded shattering the windows all around it. The other kept going, exploding just a few meters away from the hero sending him through the roof of a house.

Sadist stomped down the street towards the house as a family ran out the front door. The reporter was saying something but Isaac couldn't understand it, everything was focused on the monster he'd created. As Sadist reached the house a bus came speeding down the street heading straight for him. The camera caught a glimpse of the driver through the shattered windshield, the giant woman was a more normal size but her red and black costume streaked with blood along the left side was impossible to mistake.

Sadist threw something at the ground, and the air seemed to shimmer. The bus hit whatever it was and crumpled. Isaac and the reporter screamed in horror watching the hero come flying out of the windshield. But she wasn't dead, her body tripled in size ripping apart what was left of the bus frame. She hit Sadist denting the hard metal as they connected.

Isaac knew he shouldn't but he hoped the villain was dead. Seeing the machine fall to the ground with the woman on top of it struggling to climb to her feet he felt a bit of hope.

The hope died. Sadist grabbed Paulette Bunyan in it's massive hands and pushed her off. Slowly he stood up, grabbing the ruined bus he lifted it over his head as police snipers uselessly shot the armour hoping to find a weak spot. The bus came down on the hero, she stopped moving.

The villain moved into the house tearing away the wall. A minute later he came out holding the limp hero in his hand. Almost delicately, he peeled the rocket pack from Grinder. That done he placed the hero on the ground and walked away.

An armoured truck came down the street, breaking through the debris. Sadist climbed into the back and the truck drove away, fading from view as it did.

The TV turned off.

Isaac couldn't look away from the spot as he replayed the horror in his mind.

His kidnapper walked into the room holding several boxes that from the smell had to be food. He was smiling despite having a horrible looking bruise on his cheek.

“We're celebrating tonight!” he said putting the food which turned out to be pizza on the table.

Isaac just stared at the pizza something he'd never had before. “You killed people today,” he said.

“Yeah,” Sadist said with a smile. “According to the reports at least twenty people were killed and a lot more were injured. Most of that was when Paulette and I went through a city bus at the start. That was a hell of a fight for a newbie. She almost got me with that last hit. Eat up, we're going to need to repair the armour tomorrow and see how we can use the stuff I got off of Grinder.”

“How... how can you be happy about that?”

The man grabbed a piece of pizza and a can of beer, flopping down into a chair. “Get this through your head. 99% of people are a waste of resources and skin. They'll never do anything with their lives except turn food into shit and pop out new mouths which will turn more food into shit. If they die, who really cares? They're there to be used by those of us who actually have power and ambition. I'm going to be teaching you how to be the 1%, what you do with that is up to you. Now eat up and grab a beer I hate eating alone.”

Isaac turned away from the monster.

A hand grabbed the back of his head spun him around in the chair and slammed his face down onto the metal table. Isaac's scream of pain overpowered the crunch coming from his nose. A rag was put into his hand.

“Clean yourself up dip shit and then dig in or I'll make you my main entertainment tonight,” Sadist growled.

Isaac gingerly wiped the blood from his broken nose. With shaking hands he grabbed a piece of pizza and began to eat, ignoring the blood dripping onto it. Sadist held up his beer for a toast. Taking his own Isaac tapped the can and sipped the bitter drink.

As Sadist talked about how fun the fight had been Isaac tried to tune him out.

After the celebratory meal Sadist took off the chains that had been Isaac's constant companion since he'd been kidnapped. He was brought to a bathroom which was much nicer than the tiny sink and toilet he'd gotten used to. It was even nicer than the plain but functional bathroom at his home.

He stepped into the shower and washed the sweat and grime that had been building up over the last few weeks. The water hitting his face hurt but he didn't care, he deserved the pain for what he'd done. The water burned his skin as he washed.

New clothes were waiting for him when he stepped out. Nice looking black trousers, a black silk shirt, and black shoes that were shined to a mirror finish. If anyone of his community had clothes like this, they'd have to publicly apologize and promise to never wear them again or be shunned.

Stepping into the bedroom where Sadist waited, Isaac wondered what was going to happen while fidgeting uncomfortably at the strange clothes.

Sadist smiled which made the long scar twist strangely. “You're mighty damn pretty Isaac. Now it's time for your reward.” The man went to the closet opening it up to reveal an older teen, completely naked except for a fast food hat. She wasn't crying but her eyes were red and she was shaking in fear. If Isaac wasn't horrified he'd say she was very pretty.

“This is Wendy,” he said, dragging her out of the closet and slapping her ass to make her yelp. “Wendy, this is my good friend Isaac. He helped me out a lot today so you remember to be nice to him and I'll drop you off at home tomorrow. But if you complain or do anything to make him unhappy, well things change.”

“Y-yeah. I'll do it. Just please don't hurt me,” she whispered, trying to cover herself with her hands as he leered at her.

“You're sick,” Isaac said. “You want me to- to...”

“What she isn't your type?” he asked rubbing his hand along Wendy's body. “Just do whatever you want with her and she goes home in the morning. She says she's a virgin.”

It was too much, Isaac ran at him roaring like a bull, fist raised. Sadist snap kicked him in the gut, slapped his ear with a hand that felt like it was made of iron and rabbit punched him in the kidney a dozen times, leaving Isaac on the ground vomiting and trying to breath.

Sadist grabbed his hair ignoring the half digested pizza and beer that was still coming up. “Dipshit. I didn't say what you had to do with her. You could have fucked her silly, talked to her, hell you could have held hands and sang kumba-fucking-ya all night. Not my business what gets you off. But since you've pissed me off by rejecting my present I'm going to take her now. And I won't be so gentle.”

He tried to get up only to fall to this knees again, the pain was too intense. He heard Wendy screaming as Sadist dragged her out of the room and locked the door.

From the intercom he heard the screaming continue. As the screaming got more intense he got to his feet and hammered on the door. Isaac's own sobs filled the room as his bloody fists slammed into the door over and over again.

Hours later it finally ended.

Isaac didn't know what time it was when he came to. He was strapped down on a table, his head felt groggy like he'd been drugged again.

Sadist was standing over top of him, smiling like the devil. “Wendy didn't last as long as I thought she would. But she was still fun, thanks for giving her to me.”

He growled. He'd wanted to hurt people before, to fight back. But even the time he'd hurt Jason he had mostly wanted to just make the boy stop hurting his friend. As he looked at the face of the demon who had control of him, he wanted to kill the man as slowly and painfully as possible. Sadist laughed at him.

“Since you didn't save her when you could have, I'm going to count that as your first kill. You caused all of it. I'm a man of my word and if she had pleased you, I was going to send her home safe and sound. So lets commemorate this event with a tattoo. The first death at your hands,” Sadist said.

The demon pulled out something that looked like a gun and put it against his arm. There was a whine and a tiny bit of pain as Sadist did his work.

He sat in a tiny room lit by a single small light. He glared at his arm where the name Wendy was stencilled in black ink with a bloody red 1 beside it.

Getting to his knees Isaac prayed for forgiveness.

“Listen dipshit, you're starting to piss me off here. I've got work to do and you need to help me out or something bad is going to happen,” Sadist said.

Isaac ignored him praying as he had been for the last three days. His body was a mass of bruises from where Sadist had beaten him. He'd accepted the beatings, refusing to fight back. He only stopped when exhaustion and unconsciousness overtook him. He would drink a bit of water from the bathroom attached to the empty room he was being kept in but he refused all the food.

A kick to his back sent him to the ground. He refused to react, letting the groan of pain out and then sat back up in a kneeling position, muttering his prayers the entire time. The lack of a fight seemed to frustrate the demon more. When Isaac had tried to fight Sadist had been laughing and smiling like a child celebrating his birthday. But the last three days had him looking bored, even depressed.

“Fine, you want to play it like this, time to up the ante,” Sadist snarled in his ear.

The metal door slammed shut, leaving Isaac in the dark. Only the sound of his praying relieved the silence.

The door opened up and Sadist grabbed Isaac's arm hard enough to leave bruises. Dragging the battered and weakened teenager down the hallway they came to a thick steel door. Sadist put his hand on a pad to the side, it beeped and the door slid open soundlessly. A crying child could be heard while a woman tried to shush the child.

“Isaac you've forced my hand,” Sadist said. Lifting Isaac to his feet the monster made him look at three people who were chained to the wall, a man who was unconscious probably thanks to the bruise on his temple, a woman who had a bloody lip the blood stood out clearly as her skin was drained of all colour from fear. A little three year old girl in a pink sundress was crying looking exhausted and gasping for breath between the wails.

“I captured the beautiful Walker family as they were on their way to the parents place for the weekend.”

“Let us go please,” the mother sobbed. “We don't have much money, we're not important. Take everything we have, just-”

He cut her off with a punch to the gut, leaving her whooping for air. “I was talking not you. So Isaac, here's the deal. I need your help. I make a living through using technology mutants like you create. Most of it is gadgeteering stuff, meaning normal people can use it and make it. I can keep it cobbled together, and freaks like you if you're in the right field can make it purr. Even if you're skills aren't in that direct area, with the proper motivation you can learn more quickly than baselines. But powering this stuff... powering this stuff is difficult. You need batteries that last a short time, or transmitted power which is difficult as hell to maintain. That's where you're annoying ass comes in.”

Sadist wrenched Isaac's head around to face him. “You see, most of the people I steal from,for the really big toys like the power armour, they cheat. They make everything they can out of real stuff, but to power it they use devises, things that can't possibly work. When it breaks down I can't do shit, and since I killed my last helper, my weapons and armour have been running out of power, sometimes catastrophically. So what could a hardworking baseline like I do? What exactly could I do? Then out of the blue I hear about you. Making solar power cells do the impossible and you're not even smart enough to realize it's impossible. Thank you GOD! My prayers were answered! Hallelujah! Praise the lord and pass the ammunition. Once you actually managed to replace the devise and get it working with the regular components, well you're now my new fucking golden goose. But I've already damn near broke you and you're still being stubborn. So time to up things.”

He pulled out a pistol and shot the unconscious man in the head in one fluid motion. The man's wife stared in horror for a second before shrieking. The child who couldn't see her father, screamed at the noise and seeing her mothers reaction.

Sadist grabbed Isaac by the throat. “Now go eat some food and then get started on the long list of projects I have waiting for you. Because if you don't start showing results mommy dies after I have my way with her. And if you still don't do what I want, I'll show you how you can keep a kid alive for three days and have them screaming the entire time, it's an art and I'm fucking Picasso.”

Isaac tried to work some spit in his dry mouth. “L-let them go. I'll do it.”

“No, I need to keep my bargaining chip. But if you do a good job on the... first five projects, the girl goes free. Then if you keep working well, mommy gets to leave.” He held out his hand.

Knowing he was making a deal with the devil, but unable to think of any other way to keep the two people alive, Isaac shook the hand.

Isaac tried to stop scratching at his arm, which still felt raw after getting a second tattoo on his bicep, this time it read Robert with a bloody 2. His shirt had been exchanged for a sleeveless white undershirt so he could remember the murders in his name.

The list of projects wasn't too bad. He needed to create a portable recharger that could quickly and fully recharge the hand held weapons Sadist brought with him on missions. Improving the batteries on his truck, which Sadist proudly told him he'd gotten from a gadgeteer down in Mexico who was never going to need it ever again after a week long camping trip they'd taken. And fixing up the power supplies of a number of gadgets that helped Sadist stay on the run for so long.

It was actually pretty easy. He could just fine tune his current design reusing for the recharger, and make smaller less powerful versions for the gadgets. The battery was his main problem. The invisibility shield, tracking systems, and weapons needed an insane amount of power. He had to overhaul the entire engine, add in his generator, and then make batteries that could survive that type of strain. Sadist wasn't happy when he explained how long it would take the day before.

Since Isaac was already battered, almost too badly to work, Sadist had taken out his displeasure on his hostage making him watch. The woman would be able to walk after she healed, but Isaac knew that without breaking the leg again she'd have a bad limp.

With the woman still crying in her cell, Sadist had told him for every day it took over his estimated time he'd cut off a body part from the woman.

The memory of the woman crying pushed him forward. He wanted to kill the man but first he needed at least the little girl freed, and nothing he was making was quite right for what he needed. Going over the plans he thought of what he needed and how he could get everything done on time.

July, 2007

Isaac rode in the truck beside Sadist. It was the first time he had seen the sky in months. His skin was pale and he'd lost a lot of weight, his skin actually felt loose around his muscles. The little girl was asleep in the back. He'd managed to get all the projects done on time, actually a week ahead of schedule, so Sadist was not only keeping his side of the bargain but letting Isaac get some fresh air as a reward. He had had to travel with a bag over his head for the first hour, at first he'd tried to memorize the twists and turns but without knowing how fast they were going it was useless and he'd given up.

They pulled up in front of a small house that was achingly close to Isaac's own home. He wanted to open the door and run away, taking his chances of getting a bullet in the back. But both his hands were handcuffed to the chair.

Sadist picked up the little girl, stroking her hair so that she'd stay asleep. Opening the door he gently got out his combat boots crunching on the gravel. Isaac watched him go up to the house and knock on the door. An old woman threw open the door, a look of astonishment on her face. She took the girl, tears running down her face. Without a word Sadist walked away ignoring the questions the woman yelled at him.

Just before they pulled away, he heard the woman yelling, begging to know where her son was.

Tears ran down Isaac's face.

“Everything is running perfectly Isaac,” Sadist said, patting his back affectionately. “You've seen that I follow my word so let's have a drink together. The good stuff, not beer.”

He pulled out a bottle of vodka and some orange juice.

Isaac took the cup knowing better than to refuse. Sadist hadn't done any unplanned violence in a few weeks, but he could turn instantly. Grimacing at the taste he sipped the drink as the demon drained his own cup.

“I gotta ask,” Sadist said making himself another drink, “how the hell did you start learning about technology and shit? I thought all you people were driving horse and buggies and fucking your sisters.”

“We use electricity and computers for business. But not in the home, it takes away from the family, makes us dependent on objects instead of each other,” he said.

Sadist tapped his fingers in thought. “I see that. I don't like having to use all these gadgets, but since I do I want to be in total control. Of course family is shit. I killed mine when I was sixteen.”

After everything he'd seen the demon do, and heard him talk about, that bit of news didn't surprise Isaac.

“What? You're not going to ask why I slit their throats?”

“I can guess,” Isaac said. “It was fun.”

The demon burst out laughing. “You do know me! Tomorrow we're going to work on some of the weapons. No pussying out for you, we'll do it together and if I hear any complaints, your nose is going to get even more crooked.”

He winced at the comment of his nose. It had healed badly and twisted badly to the left, as well as being much flatter than normal.

“Don't worry, you're my best friend now, Isaac,” the demon reassured him. “Isaac, Isaac, Isaac. That name is no good.”

“What?”

“I hate that name. Let's give you another one. You like the bible, you pray often enough. So... Nephilim. A bastard of heaven and earth. That's your new name.”

He didn't reply, draining his glass instead. Sadist refilled it immediately.

Sadist talked long into the night, Isaac listened and prayed that God would give him strength for just a little longer and forgive him for what was going to happen soon.

Early August 2007

The TV was playing in Isaac's cell. Sadist had left the day before but the free time didn't matter, he was locked in bare metal room with only a bed, a toilet and some food bars to eat. He realized he could easily die in the cell but if he did or not was in God's hands, and he would accept whatever happened.

The announcer was saying that Sadist was attacking a biotech company in Thunder Bay, Ontario. The villain was once more using the tank like armour Isaac had gotten working for him. The monstrosity had torn it's way into the building ten minutes before, and no one was getting in his way.

The camera which hovered over the scene from a helicopter, zoomed in as a wall was torn down and Sadist walked out.

Isaac cringed thinking that the man might get away without having to use any of his tricks.

Then a slim rocket like plane flew in, a figure jumped from it increasing in size as she did. Paulette Bunyan left a small crater in the ground, directly in front of Sadist. Light flared from her hand as she gave the robot an upper cut that sent it flying backwards. The gadgeteer, Grinder launched some missiles from his plane.

Sadist raised his arm the air flickered. The first missile hit and exploded harmlessly. But when the dust cleared, the air wasn't flickering anymore. The next missile hit the machine on the side. The armour peeled away and the villain staggered to the side. Paulette rammed her fist into the gaping hole pulling out wires, cables, pistons and insulation.

Isaac smiled from where he knelt on the floor and prayed for the souls of everyone who was fighting, even Sadist as he watched his handiwork fail just as it was being truly pushed.

Sadist panicked and hit an emergency switch, panels shot out, pushing Paulette back, and missiles exploded outwards. Beams should have been firing as well, but while the turrets sparked nothing came out. The missiles were bad enough though, striking everything that moved within a hundred feet. Paulette rolled with the impact, blood coming from her nose and ears but that was the main damage as what looked like a forcefield surrounded her.

Grinder struck again firing weapons that chewed up the armour even more. Sadist tried to run, but the machine had never been designed for speed. Paulette struggled to get to her feet, wobbling and staggering to move.

Sadist popped out of his armour, which was practically useless and began running across the parking lot, firing a laser gun at the plane as he ran, bullets bounced uselessly off of his PFG. Isaac watched in horror as the truck which was more like a mobile fortress tore through a fence and headed straight for the villain. As Grinder lined up for another pass, Sadist threw something at the ground covering everything in a thick fog.

Seconds later, the truck pulled out, the invisibility field flickered revealing the truck every few five or ten seconds. Grinder took off after it, the news helicopter struggled to keep up.

The TV went black.

Isaac felt the blood drain from his face. Closing his eyes, he prayed for the strength to face whatever would come.

Two Days Later

The cell door, which had proven resistant to everything Isaac could do to it with his bare hands slammed open. Sadist stood there, dried blood covered shirt and half healed cuts lined his body, everything about him spoke of absolute rage.

Isaac looked at the man with absolute calm, knowing what would happen if the demon survived. There was no way he could escape and he had given his soul to God weeks ago.

“You TRAITOR!” Sadist screamed. “A signaling device! You planted a signaling device on my truck! The batteries exploding after a set amount of power! My forcefield shorting out! You planned it all!”

He didn't nod, or acknowledge the demon in anyway, knowing that by ignoring him it would enrage him more than any words or actions possibly could.

“Oh, you're calm now. You think you've known pain. You think I'm going to kill you so you can go off into heaven and fly around with the angels and suck gods dick. No. I told you when it comes to pain I'm fucking Picasso. And I'm going to make sure you live for a very long time until you'll do anything I say, praying that if you please me enough I'll put a bullet in your brain.” Sadist lashed out with a punch to Isaac's jaw, sending him to the floor in a daze.

He felt needles being jabbed into his chest, stomach, groin, and neck, then he was being dragged down a hallway. Whatever had been put into him started to burn, he tried to scream only a gurgle came out.

Sadist started laughing.

Late August, 2007

Isaac woke up to pain.

His body was like one giant bruise, and his skin felt extra sensitive. Even before he opened his eyes he realized that he was naked and tied down. He didn't bother thinking about what was going to happen to him, it was going to be bad that was enough. Flexing his arms and legs proved that the cords were too strong to break and the knots weren't about to loosen.

He heard a door open, opening his eyes just revealed blurry half formed images. Sadist's voice came through clearly though. “Babylon's awake now. How about we go introduce you?”

'Babylon', who was that he wondered.

“Damn, she's even better looking than the pictures. She's a virgin?” a man with a deep voice asked.

“I'm the only man who's touched her and that was just to clean her up and give her the tattoos. She's a little tender now, so feel free to rough her up but don't leave any scars,” Sadist told the man.

Who was the girl? Was he to watch a rape as part of his punishment? Blinking hard things started coming into focus. There was a figure above him, tied to the ceiling? Shaking his head hair tickled his ears. It had grown long since he was kidnapped, but this was even longer than he remembered. How long had he been unconscious?

He heard a woman moan.

A hand touched his thigh. He tried to kick it away, but the rope around his ankle that had him spread eagle was too tight. “Go away,” he moaned, his voice unrecognizable from the drugs he'd been given.

Something wet, almost like a tongue, licked his nipple. Through the fog, Isaac realized his nipple seemed larger than before, much larger. A hand stroked his cheek which was smooth.

His vision became clearer he realized he was looking at a mirror above the bed. The reflection of a woman, naked, tied down and spread eagle, with long blonde hair was looking down at him, a look of horror came to her face, as a half naked middle age man leaned over her his hand caressing her cheek.

He shrieked, his mind shouting that this was impossible. A woman shrieked at the same time, her voice full of terror.

Sadist laughed as the man fondling Isaac slapped him hard across the cheek.

The man stood up, leering, bringing his hand back to strike Isaac again. Sadist appeared behind him, grabbed the man's throat and squeezed, twisting at the same time like he was wringing the neck of a chicken. The man collapsed struggling to breath.

“Oh shut up already,” Sadist said, stomping on the man's head a few times until their was a loud crack and the gurgling stopped.

Isaac kept screaming.

Wordlessly, the monster took a needle from his pocket and jabbed it into Isaac's skinny arm. A few seconds later a sense of calmness overcame him, the terror was still there but it was buried so deep it couldn't come to the surface. The cords were cut and Sadist helped him sit up.

In the strange state of calm and terror Isaac felt the breasts on his chest pull against his skin, they were large, not the largest he'd ever seen but larger than most girls he knew personally. Looking further down he tried not to cry as he realized that his manhood had vanished.

“Dip shit,” Sadist said, taking Isaac by the shoulders, “I said I was going to hurt you. You cost me more with your little stunt than I've lost in a long while. You owe me a big debt and I intend to get repaid in full. How you repay me is up to you.”

“Wha-at did you do?” Isaac slurred.

“A gadgeteer I robbed made a way to turn people into the opposite sex. You're the third person I've done this to, and you are a complete success as the many responses to my online ad selling your ass has proven.”

The part of Isaac that was still able to think normally cringed and howled at the thought of being sold and raped.

“I was really tempted to let Barney boy have his way with you and sell you out to thirty or fifty guys a night until you're so worn out not even a homeless fucker would want you. That's still plan B. But your mind is still good and I want to keep it that way. The gadgeteer who I got it from, well once he came to I used him hard and his mind snapped.” Sadist paused to smile at the memory, rubbing his crotch at the same time. “I'm guessing, he couldn't handle the changes and being raped before he could comprehend everything was too much for him. Same thing happened to the second guy who pissed me off. I sold them both to pimps who were willing to pay good money for a pretty body, even if they did scream a lot.”

Isaac whimpered and pulled away from the demon, even with the drug running through him he was terrified.

“You get the rest of today to recover. Tomorrow we do some shopping to get you clothes more appropriate to your new status as my bitch. If you do well, you can keep being my mechanic. You disappoint me I have fifty guys lined up to use you in every sick way possible. You have food on the table, I'll bring you some more in a few hours, you're body is hungry for real food after it had a liquid diet for three weeks.” Sadist picked up the dead body letting Isaac see the bulging tongue and the boot imprint on the persons forehead.

“Feel free to scream,” he told Isaac. “I'm borrowing this place from a buddy of mine, no one will hear you. Oh yeah, your name is now Whore, like the Whore of Babylon, I thought you'd like the biblical reference. Remember that or I'll punish you. Make me punish you enough and your pussy is mine.”

Sadist left the room and locked the door.

Isaac grabbed the thin blanket and covered himself trying to block out the image of what had been done to his body. Looking around the room showed that mirrors lined every wall as well as the ceiling. There was a plate piled with fruit, sandwiches with energy drinks beside it. A second door was open leading to a bathroom.

Sobbing he pulled the blanket over his head and cried.

Hunger had made Isaac eat all the food and drain the drinks at some point. He couldn't remember going to the bathroom but he knew he must have. Everything seemed to be far away happening to someone else. He could barely think. It felt almost like when he'd had pneumonia as a child, his fever had been so bad he'd believed he was a puppet. He could believe that this wasn't happening it was all a bad dream.

Then Sadist walked in, naked.

“Time to go Babylon, we've got shopping to do,” he said, throwing a pile of clothes at Isaac.

“Get away from me!” Isaac screamed, wrapping the blanket around himself more tightly.

Sadist ripped the blanket away tumbling Isaac to the floor. “Two choices Baby, get dressed or get fucked.”

Seeing that he had no choice Isaac grabbed the clothes, the demon just watched him with a little smile. Separating the clothes, he saw a pair of stockings, a short, short skirt, a tiny t-shirt and something that looked like it might possibly be underwear.

Taking the underwear, which was a tiny patch of fabric held together by string, he took a moment to figure out how it should go on. Sliding it up his smooth legs was strange, he didn't know how it was suppose to protect anything, least of all a girls modesty. Seeing how his hips widened before shrinking at his waist he felt his mind wandering again. The fabric was soft and smooth, nothing like the boxers he had worn before.

The string went up his butt, and the tiny bit of cloth was pushed to the side of his groin, revealing his sex. Sadist chuckled, leering at him, licking his lips, massaging himself. Humiliated, Isaac struggled to cover himself properly. He'd seen the underwear worn by his mother and his sisters when it was hung up to dry, it was nothing like what he was wearing. Tears threatened to fall from his eyes.

Isaac threw on the t-shirt, feeling much more comfortable with that. Until he realized it ended just above his stomach. His new nipples created little tents in the fabric. “Can- can I have another shirt?” he asked.

Sadist grabbed his breasts, squeezing them hard, making Isaac squeal in pain. “Nope. I didn't know how big you were so I took a guess. We'll get you something pretty later.”

Slipping on the skirt, it stopped just below his round bottom. Isaac realized that if he walked normally he'd flash his bare bottom and the thing that was jokingly supposed to be underwear to everyone. The tears which he'd been holding back ran down his cheeks, while the demon twisted the skirt around so it sat a little higher on his waist.

“Please,” he whispered. “Don't make me do this.”

“Two choices,” Sadist said running a hand over his butt. “Take your clothes off now and no one will see you in public again, or put your stockings on and we might get you something a little more modest.”

Isaac seriously considered the options. Whatever was done to him couldn't be much worse than walking outside like this. But as he looked at the demon, he realized that his only chance of surviving was to be useful as a mechanic. He'd accept the humiliation, it was just a test and he was strong. Sitting down he put the stockings on in fits and starts as the clingy fabric caught on his toes and nails. Sadist offered to help, Isaac refused to look at him even as tears fell on the smooth, silky fabric of the skirt.

Standing up, Isaac kept his face down. He was staring at the freakish things on his chest, but it was better than looking at Sadist or his reflection. So of course Sadist grabbed his chin, forcing Isaac to look at his new body.

“Look at yourself Whore of Babylon. This is the new you,” he growled, shoving his body against him. “You can't go home again. No one will believer you're Isaac. No identity. No family. No money. You can work with me, and I swear no one will hurt you as long as you do exactly what I tell you. Or you can use the one thing you have going for you and sell yourself to anyone for enough money to keep yourself alive for a few more days.”

Isaac closed his eyes, struggling to pull away from the rough roving hand. He screamed as his breast was squeezed hard enough to bruise.

“I said look!”

He opened his eyes and saw the new him. His light brown hair was now blonde, hanging down to his shoulders in a wavy waterfall. He was still the same height which made him taller than most women. His face was round, with big sky blue eyes, a tiny nose, and thick lips shaped like a bow. He knew why he couldn't struggle against Sadist, his arms were tiny, the muscles had virtually vanished. His legs were shapely, looking more like the models in the garage calender's he'd seen sometimes. The breasts that were heaving as he cried were large, barely covered by shirt which had a picture of a bucket overflowing with what looked like white paint, written below were the words cum bucket, which he didn't understand. To his eyes he was beautiful, if he'd had a weapon, he'd have killed Sadist without a second thought.

“Let's go,” Sadist said, pushing Isaac to the door. “And remember if you tell anyone who I am or try to get help, I'm armed. I'll kill everyone around me, so you aren't just protecting yourself but every man woman and child we see.”

Isaac nodded and walked silently through a large house until they reached the exit where he was given a pair of pink sandals. Heading outside he started shivering despite the warm air, the wind lifting his skirt showing his bare bottom to the world.

They went to a dirty looking clothes store, that was full of pictures of almost naked women in every imaginable pose. The clothes were a lot like what Isaac was wearing. Standing behind Sadist, hugging himself as he shook with shame, foolishly hoping that someone would recognize him while praying that no one would, he listened to the half naked saleswoman talk with the demon. They talked like Isaac wasn't there, spinning him around, lifting his arms and spread his legs for measurements, laughing as he blushed and sniffed, fighting back tears.

They pulled out dozens of outfits for him to try on. Watching as he stripped to his underwear time and again trying on shorts that seemed like they were painted on, shirts with obscene pictures and words that barely covered him, and bra's which Isaac had only ever heard of. The support they gave him was nice, but they made his chest stick straight out, and half of them didn't cover his nipples, or had holes for his nipples to stick out.

Then they had him try on underwear. They had holes in the crotch, said things like 'men at work', 'insert penis here', a few were see through, and there were more of the tiny pieces of strings that he learned were called thongs. Everytime he put on something new, Sadist and the woman poked and fondled him while making comments about how pretty he was, what they wanted to do to him, how much they could sell him for.

By the time they left, Isaac was breaking down, feeling like he was going insane. Wishing he was.

In the car Sadist pulled out his phone and showed it to Isaac. A video was playing after a few seconds of watching Isaac put his head between his knees and cried, the man had taped every second of his humiliation.

September 15th, 2007

The girl who used to be known as Isaac, but could no longer think of herself as the strong young man who had been so peaceful and hopeful just a few months before, and refused to think of herself as Babylon, sat and stared at the suit of armour in front of her. The Demon didn't know she had managed to break the locks on its case, he probably didn't care. For the last few weeks, she'd done everything he ordered when he ordered it. It didn't stop him from beating her, he liked hearing her cry and scream but he didn't go any further than some bad bruises.

She didn't look at her body anymore. She now understood the words that were tattooed on her arms, her hands, her thighs, stomach, breasts, her face, almost everywhere that there was space. The piercings were worse, sometimes she thought that she should rattle as she walked. Her thong pressed against six piercings and a barbell. She'd screeched in pain and horror when the Demon had first given them to her. Now when he wanted to add another she just pulled down her thong and laid back, it was easier.

She had stopped praying after the second week of being turned into a girl.

The Demon had had her power up a number of his more unique weapons and then he'd gone hunting using the bladed power armour. The Demon had set up a live feed showing exactly what he saw to a TV in his lair, she had been strapped to a chair her face placed in a device that kept her eyes locked on the TV, with needles taped to her eyelids so that closing her eyes drove the needles into her flesh.

She'd watched him rob a bank.

“Hey Babylon, you folks don't use banks do you?” the Demon's voice said over a speaker as he walked down an alley. “Well I don't really care. You'll be happy to know that this is a Goodkind Bank. Do you even know who the Goodkinds are? Probably not since you don't even have a fucking TV. They really don't like mutants. They'd line everyone of you up and shoot you in the head just for fun. My kind of people really. But I need some cash, and this bank has a lot of it. And do you know why I need cash? Because you cost me a couple of million dollars.”

The TV showed a blade slash against a dirty brick wall, the hard stone crumbled under the blow. “So I'm going hunting. And everyone I kill today is on your hands. YOU MADE ME DO THIS! I hope you're really damn happy about yourself now.”

He came to a back door that had a sophisticated looking electronic lock. A block of something that looked like grey putty was placed on the lock, and nimble metal fingers attached some wires and other things right into the centre of it. She had never seen anything like it before, but could guess what it would do.

the Demon moved off to the side and five seconds later there was a loud bang shaking the image. The picture began to move as the Demon ran down the hallway, she noticed several small objects fall from his hands. Office workers were standing in the hallway wondering what had exploded, some popped their head out of their offices, a few were running. The short blades coming from the robotic hands cut them down. When he could do it without slowing, the Demon tore open the stomachs of the bankers, leaving them screaming as they tried to hold their organs in place. A man who actually tried to punch the demon was castrated and had his left leg cut off in one smooth motion. Then the demon was in the crowded lobby.

Foot long darts pinned the security guards to the walls. The patrons who were streaming towards the exit in a panicked herd, stopped when metal barbs cut down the people in front. “Everyone down!” the Demon yelled.

The twenty or so people leapt to the ground. Two people who weren't fast enough were speared in the necks, one fell to the ground dead instantly with a severed spine. The other wasn't so lucky, falling to his knees, grasping the smooth metal shaft with weak hands that quickly became slick with blood, gurgling and begging those around him for help with his eyes, as he choked to death.

The Demon stepped over the cowering people. He dropped a few things on the steps just outside the door and then put a box on the glass door, stretching a thin metal wire to each side of the door attaching them with something like a staple from his fingers. “Listen up, this is a claymore mine. It's set to explode if it's messed with. It will explode this way and kill everyone here. Don't move and this will be over quickly.”

He walked back into the office area, setting up another claymore in the doorway. As he made his way to the vault he ignored the people who were huddling under desks and behind doors. At the vault the demon placed a box against the door and pressed a button. There was a hissing, and the box glowed red. In less than a minute the thick vault door began to glow and melt, sagging like it was made of wax. Within two minutes the Demon was able to step through the hole, ignoring the dripping, molten metal.

Going to certain lock boxes he ripped them open placing the papers, jewels and other items into a pouch in the armour. A few minutes later he was walking back out. There were screams from the lobby, and an explosion. “Huh, I guess someone opened the door. OK, Babylon, I've got what I came for, now to show you what I'm really capable of. Every time you disobey me a little I'll do this again. You know what will happen if you really disobey me.”

Grabbing the nearest person, an older man who looked to be in his sixties, the demon sliced his head off. The six people huddled down screamed and got up to run. The first person to get to her feet was hit in the back by the severed head, knocking her to the ground. The picture became blurry as the Demon moved like a dervish through the office cutting off limbs, severing spines, gutting people, nothing that would kill instantly. There were explosions in the background as people hearing the slaughter tried to flee.

Walking into the lobby it was a like a butchers yard, a few people huddled behind overturned chairs, in corners and under the few desks, too terrified to move. It looked like two police had tried to enter the building, their mangled bodies torn apart below the waist laid on the steps their faces twisted. Bullets hit the armour, as police outside tried to stop the carnage without risking setting off more bombs. The demon ignored them, stalking the survivors and killing them with his bare hands, making sure she had a good look at their faces as they died.

The next ten minutes went like that, every door was kicked open, every hiding place ripped apart. More mines were places behind him, in case someone tried to escape while his back was turned. The windowless building became an abattoir.

Stepping out into the alley, blood dripping from his arms the Demon laughed at the police who were guarding both ends. They hadn't had time to call in the swat team or the special weapons, they were just regular cops. Demonic laughter filled the air as he ran at them, not slowing in the slightest as the police used shotguns and AR-15 rifles trying to find a weak spot.

When the first policeman screamed with a fist in his gut, she closed her eyes ignoring the pain of the needles piercing her skin. But she couldn't cut out the noise, the screaming, the crying, the pleading.

When it finally ended, bloody tears had stained her white shirt.

“I'm coming home now Whore. When I get there, you'd better be ready to work like you've never worked before. To make sure you won't get bored I have a little video for you, a compilation of your greatest hits,” the Demon said with a laugh.

Keeping her eyes closed, she listened to drunken men laughing, whistling and shouting suggestions. Almost every night for the first week the Demon had taken her to bars in outfits that exposed her body, encouraging men to fondle her, kiss her, and forcing her to dance for them. It was part of her training, to learn that she belonged to him and she only stayed whole thanks to him. The crude tattoos and piercings that covered her body were brands marking her as his, letting her know what she was and always would be.

As she heard herself crying on the TV and listened to the disgusting suggestions, she wanted to vomit. She felt part of herself shutting down, too shocked and horrified to stay in the hell that was her existence.

The part that remained shook itself out of the stupor it had been in and began to plan again.

The silvery suit was skin tight, made for a woman smaller than she was, fortunately it was stretchy. She had tried it on and found that while it was tight in the chest and hips, she could move in it. The Demon never used it but he had found uses for some of the gadgets it held, specifically the forcefield generators.

While the suit itself offered only a tiny bit of padding, the forcefields were powerful and could be altered to manage different tasks, powered by the devise on the back of the suit. She kept looking at the door afraid the Demon would catch her with it. The work was slow going, snatching a few hours here and there when the Demon was gone to change the generator with a better one, learning how to replicate the forcefield technology so she could make more of them. Changing the tiny internal power generators of the PFG's so they'd last longer.

The lights flickered. Grabbing the suit she ran to put it back in place. The devise she made could only tell when power was used in another part of the lair, it could be an automatic system starting up or the Demon opening the front door. He could come directly to the workshop or go to sleep. She didn't know but couldn't take any chances.

Slipping back into her chair, she got to work on the small projects he had left her. She'd completed them hours ago but wanted to seem busy so the Demon wouldn't think she was lazy or planning something.

The door opened and the Demon came in holding a plate of food. Her stomach growled, she hadn't eaten since the night before.

Putting the food down, he grabbed her long hair pulling her to her feet and kissed her lips, forcing her mouth open as his hand groped her body. She accepted it, not fighting back, not reacting at all, afraid to encourage him.

He let her go and turned to walk away. She let out the tiniest sigh of relief. That was a mistake.

A steel toed boot was driven into her crotch, the genital piercings cut into her flesh, and it felt like her pelvis had shattered. She dropped limply to the ground, paralyzed by pain, unable to even cry.

“You should be thanking me bitch!” the Demon swore. “I feed you, look after you and I haven't even used your body. And what do I get from it?”

He kicked her again in the stomach.

“You'd better make damn sure everyone of my machines is perfect or I'm going to start selling your ass after using it myself.” He picked her up the hair. The tears finally came as it felt like her scalp was being torn off. “Do you UNDERSTAND ME?!” he screamed in her face.

Somehow she found the strength to nod.

“Good,” he said, backhanding her and letting her drop.

She landed on the table flipping it onto its side. Her supper flew up into the air landing on her and the floor. The Demon was gone by the time she could move.

Crawling on her hands and knees she picked the microwave dinner up, eating every morsel she could find, using her fingers to scrape up the sauce from the floor, shoving it greedily into her mouth.

September 17th, 2007

She watched the Demon preparing to leave. He was loading his trench coat with gadgets in case he had to fight but was leaving his armour behind.

“I'm going into the Sault, Babylon, do you want anything?” he asked.

She stared at him in wonder. He was offering her something? There had to be a trick, something he would use to hurt her. Sitting there with her mouth open, her brain desperately looking for the trap, she couldn't speak.

“If you keep your mouth open like that, I'm going to put something in it,” the Demon joked. He left, closing and locking the door behind him.

Her mind started working again. The Demon was going to Sault Ste. Marie, and he wasn't ready for a fight, this was her chance. She waited fifteen minutes before taking out the suit. Putting it on, she hit the switch and felt the hum of power. Grabbing a belt she had to tie it around her waist since it was far too big for her, filled it with a number of gadgets and devises. Taking one last look at hell, she went to the door, activated the forcefield and using her tongue twisted the controls for her right hand, shifting the field into a blade. Punching through the thick door she began sawing the metal, it was like cutting a tree with a dull axe, but it was possible.

Leaving the lair was easy once that was done.

Activating the tiny thrusters in the back, she jumped into the air and came back down stopping an inch or two above the gravel. On a frictionless forcefield, the thrusters pushed her along almost as fast as a car on a city street. She knew where the Demon would be going. And with him away from his armour she could destroy him.

Tears ran unnoticed down her face as she sped along the highway. Even freed of the lair, she was trapped and could only see one way to free herself.

“Good work, Isaac,” his mother said.

The ten year old boy smiled, looking up at the small windmill that he had repaired all by himself. It was a brilliant summer day, he heard his sisters talking as they mended clothes enjoying the fresh breeze that kept the sun from being too hot.

She jerked, barely avoiding a transport truck that blew it's horn trying to get her attention.

“Focus!” she screamed at herself. “He's dead! He's dead! He's dead!”

His punishment made sitting hurt, still Isaac tried to focus on his fathers words. “Remember, death is not something to fear. We do not look for it, or seek it out, but if we are killed by the violence of others, without resorting to violence and a pure soul, we are going to Heaven. So the threat of death at the hands of others, is no threat. And hopefully, the attacker will at least glimpse the love of Christ in our nonviolent response.”

She screamed. The Demon had to die. He'd find her again if he lived. He'd find her and hurt her and torture her, and punish her.

Isaac worked alongside his father and some of their neighbours, harvesting their small field of corn. It was hard work, and the sun was hot, but no one was complaining. His father started singing an old harvest song in English that had first been sung by Isaac's great great grandfather. It was about the love of the harvest, and resting after a hard day of work. The other men joined in. After a short time, Isaac began singing as well. The hard work didn't seem so bad anymore, as the sense of belonging grew.

“I'm not him anymore. Can't go home. Can't go home.”

As cars slowed down staring in wonder at the young woman in a body suit zipping along the road, no one heard her muttering and screaming to herself or saw the pain carved onto her face.

She spotted the car the Demon used when pretending to be normal outside his favourite bar. She remembered it all too well, having to dance on a pool table as men tossed money at her, telling her to strip off her clothes. If she didn't obey, the Demon would beat her and had promised to sell her. So she did what she was told.

Striding up to the door she raised her hand and blasted it open with a battering ram like forcefield. The bouncer, who liked to grope her breasts, came running his fist raised. She let him punch her, smiling as he broke his hand. Shoving him out of the way she took a gadget from her belt and threw it into the ceiling. It blasted out a sonic note that sent everyone in the bar to the ground, vomiting and clutching their ears.

A person came out of the bathroom, seemingly unaffected by the sound. The Demon.

“YOU LITTLE WHORE! That is MY suit!” he shouted.

Ingrained fear filled her. She couldn't move, she was shaking so hard it felt like she was going to shatter into a thousand pieces.

The Demon pulled out a pistol and shot her. The forcefield held, barely, but the devised ammunition threw her out onto the street taking a large portion of the wall with her. He followed shooting her again. A car screeched trying to stop, the fender bent as they hit sending her rolling down the street while a third shot destroyed the car.

The early evening crowd screamed and ran.

She got to her feet and ran at the Demon who was cursing and swearing at his gun, the barrel had thick black smoke billowing out. The forcefield around her hands turned into blades, she swung wildy as soon as she was close enough with no skill just berserker fury. He ducked and dodged, getting a few light cuts on his arms, but nothing serious enough to slow him down.

He managed to reach into his coat and rammed his hand against her chest. Leaping away he rolled to the side, covering his head.

Looking down, she was just in time to catch an explosion full in her face. The forcefield seemed to buckle and she fell onto her back. Her breasts and stomach ached, spots danced in front of her eyes and she couldn't even roll over onto her hands and knees.

The Demon jumped on her back, she heard something whine and hiss as her head was jerked back, the forcefield kept him from getting a solid grip, but she couldn't move her head more than an inch. His free hand brought a silver hilt towards her neck, he flicked a button and blue plasma erupted from the end. She tried to stop his arm, she might as well have tried to hold back the sea.

The flame hit the shield, bending around it but the heat was intense. She could smell her flesh cooking, feel the skin blistering.

Turning on the thrusters they headed along the street straight at a building. The Demon rolled off with a curse and she was barely able turn the thrusters up in time, actually scraping against the outside of the building. Gasping as cool air filled her lungs and sobbing in agony she grabbed a handful of explosives from her belt and threw them at the Demon who was pulling some new weapon from his coat. The bombs exploded around him, leaving him bloody and shaken on the ground but still alive.

Flying down, she was ready to stab him. Pausing to aim properly she didn't even see him grab her arm, flipping her onto her back with a bone jarring thud. He put another explosive on her chest and jumped away. Her back bent around the power pack and ribs snap as the bomb went off.

The Demon walked up to her while she moaned and writhed in pain, trying to find some position that wasn't agonizing.

“Bitch!” the Demon shouted, leaning over top of her, blood dripped from his scalp and face. “I'm going to kill you, but I want you to know.” He put an explosive on her chest. “I'm going to take everyone in your family, your mother, your father, your brothers, your sisters. And the men, I'm going to do the same thing to them that I did to you. But I'm going to be fucking them as soon as they're awake. Your sisters, I'm going to sell them to the sickest fucks I know so they can torture them for weeks until they're dead.” Another explosive was put on her forehead. “And your mommy. I'm going to keep her for myself. I'll make her scream and beg as I do everything I can possibly dream of to torture her. They're going to suffer because you were too fucking stupid to do what you were told.” He took out some detonators from his coat. “You ar-”

He stopped talking, his hands were inches from explosives the detonators ready to attach, but only his eyes moved.

She slowly crawled out from under him, gasping as each movement shifted her ribs sending bolts of pain straight to her brain. She looked at the forcefield generator that she had attached to his foot and smiled. He wouldn't move again, he couldn't.

Pulling the explosives off, she wobbled as the ground seemed to move under her. She wanted to fall over and sleep, to pretend it was a dream, to imagine that it was finally over, but she knew what had to be done. Raising her arms, she set the force blades to the same frequency as the one that trapped the Demon. She brought her arms down.

They stopped just short of the Demons head.

She fell to her knees hugging herself. A scream ripped its way out, whether in was in rage, pain, grief or just to make some noise after staying so long in silence, she didn't know. She kept screaming even as her throat turned raw.

A hand touched her shoulder.

She jumped, screaming again in pain as her ribs grated against each other, ready to run, wanting to just just fall down and die. She recognized the woman, it was the superhero she'd seen on TV fighting the Demon.

“Hey girl. It's ok,” the woman said softly, holding her hands up. “You're safe now. You got him and we're going to take him to prison now.”

She looked and saw the Demon was being wrapped in metal by the womans partner. Looking at the large woman she whispered, “Is it over?”

“Yeah, it's over. You did good. You're going to be OK.”

Turning off the forcefield, she took of her helmet and grabbed the woman with a soul rending howl, letting out all the fear and hatred she'd been feeling for so long.

Whateley
Late November, 2007

Headmistress Carson looked over the file of her newest student and shook her head in sadness and frustration.

The girl was traumatized but functional, and no one who should look after her was willing to since she was a mutant. The girl hadn't made it easier by refusing to say who her family was. They suspected she was actually Isaac Graber, but when asked all she said was that the boy was dead and DNA tests were inconclusive. Since the girl had gone into hysterics when they suggested she meet her possible family, there was nothing they could do to send her home. So the Canadian government was paying for her to go to Whateley where she would be nicely out of the way.

At least the doctors had removed the tattoos on her face, and hands. Doyle would be able to remove the rest relatively quickly. If only the  emotional and mental scars could be gotten rid of as easily as the tattoos and piercings. She wondered what it would take to save the girl, if that was even possible.

Picking up the phone she asked Ms. Claire to send the student in.

“Ruth,” the secretary said, “you can go in now.”

“Thank you,” whispered the girl now known as Ruth Damaris. Getting to her feet she made sure the bandana covered her hair, then walked into the office her black skirt swishing against her long stockings.

A distinguished blonde woman stood up when she entered. “Hello Ruth, please have a seat.”

“Thank you, headmistress.”

“I know you want to rest and get your things organized, but there are some details I need to work out with you first. I need your honest opinion and your answer won't reflect on you in anyway. Can you do that for me?” the headmistress asked.

“Yes, headmistress,” she whispered honestly. She was still finding the ability to make choices difficult. Easier to do what she was told, it was safer that way.

“This school has a group of students who have changed from men into women,” the headmistress paused watching her closely. “They help each other more than many other students here do, and some of them have dealt with physical, emotional and mental trauma. From reading your medica lreports, the doctors here think you could use the support. Are you interested in that?”

Ruth thought about it, she knew that they knew who she had been. But the headmistress wasn't telling her she had to go and see her family. Her heart ached at not seeing her parents, her siblings, her friends, but there was no way she could show her face to them, not after what had she had done. “They really help each other?” she asked in the same quiet voice.

“Yes they do. And most of them keep their change a secret, so you don't have to worry about anyone finding out what happened to you unless you want to tell them.”

She gave a tiny smile. “I'd like that. Thank you, headmistress.”

The woman smiled warmly. “Now there may be one small problem. This group is in the same cottage as the lesbian and gay students. They are also kept relatively secret to avoid being threatened or attacked by other students. The cottage is a safe place for everyone, do you understand?”

“I was raised to love the sinner and hate the sin, I won't say anything. And what right do have to say anything? I'm neither fish nor fowl, and I have so much blood on my hands it will take a lifetime to wash away my own sins.” She fought back the tears that threatened to well up.

The headmistress came out from behind her desk and took hold of her hand. “Ruth, I know you won't believe me, but you had nothing to do with those crimes. I hope that in time you'll come to realize that. But until you do, I want you to know that no one will judge you for what you've done and we will work very hard to make sure this is a safe place for you.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“You're roommate is waiting outside to show you around campus and take you to your room. She looks different, but I and your housemother Mrs. Horton believe that she is the best match for you. If however you would like another roommate you just have to ask.”

“How she looks doesn't matter to me.”

The headmistress walked with her out of the office, a girl who looked to be made out of glass was waiting there, shuffling her feet nervously.

Headmistress Carson gave her hand a squeeze of encouragement. “Ruth, this is Rona. She's your new roommate.”

“Hi Ruth,” the girl said.

It took a second to find her own voice. “Hello Rona. Thank you for having me.”

Rona smiled nervously and looked at her feet for a second which made her waist length hair ring like wind chimes. “It's my pleasure. Come on, I'll show you a few mandatory things and then we can get some lunch. Are you hungry?”

“A little,” Ruth whispered following her roommate to the stairs.

Ruth got her few simple toiletries and went across the hall to the bathroom. It had been a long, tiring, bewildering day, but she felt happy. She wasn't being looked at all the time, she could see the sun, she could move around. Even better the other girls and boys who she'd be going to class with were younger than she was but they treated her like she was normal, even ignoring how she talked with an accent and dressed far more modestly than almost every girl at the school. she could almost believe she was safe.

Since it was nearly lights out most of the other changeling girls were in the bathroom getting ready for bed. Taking off her robe, she slipped into an empty shower stall and quickly washed herself. Stepping out to dry off there was a gasp, looking up she saw the other girls staring at the tattoos that still covered her.

“Why did you get those tattoos?” a girl she couldn't remember the name of asked.

Ruth drew the towel around herself. “I-I didn't want them,” she stuttered, feeling tears start to trickle from her eyes. “He gave them to me. He said it was to remind me what I am!” She slid to the floor, bawling.

The girls surrounded her, holding her, telling her it would be all right, letting her know it was OK to cry. Slowly they got her dried off and back into her room, where they stayed and talked with her. Long after lights out they finally left.

While Rona snored on the other side of the room, Ruth sat awake in bed. She wasn't awake because of nightmares like she usually was, she was smiling. For the first time since she was kidnapped she felt a little like she was part of something again, a community.

Getting on her knees she prayed.