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The Micro-Scenes thread

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4 years 4 months ago #16381 by Domoviye
Domoviye replied the topic: Samantha
“OK, this really is hideous,” Samantha said looking at the ugly brown, cracked and distorted cats eye. The flaws in the centre of the cats eye made her think it was winking at her.

She seriously considered sending the thing back to the client. In the year it had taken to seal the deal, going through twenty different designs in the process, she was out of debt, even if she was still only up to regularly eating hot dogs, actual pork instead of chicken ones. So she didn't need the money desperately. But how the client talked about the project had intrigued her. The fact that her fridge was full of real food and she could afford to buy a car that wasn't threatening to fall apart if she sneezed too hard on it was another reason to do the job quickly and move on.

Sighing, she put the cats eye in the special safe that had been installed the day before as per instructions. “Way too much work for a single ugly stone. And a choker? Dear god, what woman would want that thing around her neck.”

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4 years 4 months ago #16426 by Domoviye
Domoviye replied the topic: Marni
Rachael gave her a silent apology before rushing away. Marni didn't blame her, it wasn't safe to be around her anymore. No one was stupid enough to attack her, but that didn't stop them from harassing her friends, or pulling pranks. Her locker, which was already covered in anti-mutant graffiti that the school was refusing to paint over after having to do it ten times already, was now ripped open. Even better red paint was splashed inside, covering her books, her windbreaker and her gym clothes.

She knew from previous experience that the school would never find the person who did it.

Walking towards the office to report the vandalism, everyone got out of her way. She had never felt so alone.

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4 years 4 months ago #16450 by Cryptic
Cryptic replied the topic: The Micro-Scenes thread
Simon DeVille, a name as good as any other that he used, dropped onto a much abused stool at his favorite pub, that was close to the home office, thankful to be back in London if only for a brief while. While he reveled in the complexity of juggling the various identities he wore, doing Covington missions where the pits. The rumors of what that identity could do was hard to live up to even for him, and he had his criminal past to fall back on. He had no idea how the Honorable Lords who went into the game managed to pull it off. Ok so technically he was an Honorable Lord now, but Simon didn't think of himself in that way as he con man who's long game left him comfortably in the upper crust of society before the War. In his mind he was still just an orphan who was good at manipulating people, who thrilled at taking bigger and better risks with a goal in mind.

A pint landed with a thump in front of him. “Simon, good to see you are still among the living. First is on the house.”

Simon looked up and flashed the man a tired grin. “Mac! I'd heard you managed to get out on a medical.”

“Mostly. They got me teaching what I can to a mix of Irregulars and Gents. You know the noble type won't last more then a week in the field if they didn't get the easy assignments. No offense meant to you.” Mac hastily added.

“None taken. You where saying?”

“Anyway as payment the office authorized one of those Mad types they got working to counter the Nazi's weird shit fit me with a new leg. Works a treat even if it is a bit to heavy, clumsy, and maintenance intensive for use in the field. Still I can walk again, so I ain't complaining.” the former spy replied slapping his right leg which reverberated with a metallic clang. Simon leaned over the bar to goggle at the appendage.

“Motion powered, bronze clock-working and steel plating...” Mac said tapping it again. “hurt like hell when he attached it to my stump.”

“I'll bet.” Simon replied sipping the pint then grimacing at the taste. “this horse piss?”

“Sorry. Supplies been a bit low, else I wouldn't be serving it. Most of the good stuff I had stashed got liberated for the high muckety types in the army. Said that the likes of us didn't deserve to drink it.”

Simon stood slowly a grimace on his face. “Really? Men who come back from the field with a need to steady their nerves after sneaking in and out of occupied territory don't deserve a good drink? I think not. Now tell me, who might know where they are storing the barrels and bottles? And how many of the crew are in town?”

I am a caffeine heathen; I prefer the waters of the mountain over the juice of the bean. Keep the Dews coming and no one will be hurt.

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4 years 4 months ago #16526 by Schol-R-LEA
Schol-R-LEA replied the topic: The Micro-Scenes thread
12 September 2007

OK, so no one here was entirely sure how Cyberkitty got to be the new club president, but no one in the room - or conferencing through a monitor - could argue that she was the best coder and cracker in the room, bar none. Well, that, and she was a lot cuter than Tinkertrain or Wunderkind. Still, if it bothered any of the upperclassmen, they didn't say anything.

"OK, let's start the first session of the year for the '133t," Paige said assertively, "Let's start by talking about the club name."

Wirewalker sighed, loudly and deliberately. "Not this crap again..."

"I mean it! Come on, "133t"? That may have been cool in Ms. Hartford's day, but now it just makes us sound like dorks."

"We are dorks," interjected Maze from his monitor.

"Yeah, but no one's gonna take us seriously with such a stupid name," said Ringo, though it wasn't as if Paige needed defending. The name is dorky.

"So what do you have in mind?" I added.

"I think we should go back to the original name. Get in touch with the club's roots, right?"

"Double-You-Tee-Eff? You think '133t is dorky, but you want to use 'International Brotherhood of Magicians'?"

Yeah, Tink said it exactly like that. What an idiot. No wonder she and Flashbang always get caught at shit.

"I thought it was 'Insidious Black Magic'," said Wirewalker, looking up at the picture of the club's founder and first faculty advisor, Alan Kotok .

Legend says - and with these old-time hackers it's all legends - that Dr. Alexander lured Mr. Kotok (now Dr. Kotok, no wait, he died last year, right?), the school's first computer science teacher/system administrator, away from DEC in 1967 with a promise to buy and support no less than four (whoopie) of the brand-new PDP-10 mainframes, hot-shit machines that Kotok had a hand in designing so I guess it was kind of stroking his ego. As one of the founding fathers of hackerdom, he must have thought that helping the students back then form a club like the TMRC back at MIT was the best way to keep the spirit alive. Apparently, Kotok thought that the "Insidious Black Magicians" gag was funny (I.B.M., get it? lame...), but not everyone agreed so it kind of went by a few different names over the years.

On the gripping hand, though, he did manage to get Whateley one of the first ARPAnet nodes just before his sabbatical here ended, and the first that wasn't a major university or consultancy, so the school was ahead of things almost from the start. Go us.

I came back out of my reverie to find that the motion had passed. Oh, crap...

Out, damnéd Spot! Bad Doggy!

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4 years 4 months ago - 4 years 4 months ago #16606 by Schol-R-LEA
Schol-R-LEA replied the topic: The Micro-Scenes thread
3 March 1983
Montréal–Dorval Airport

As the setbelt sign turned off and the other passengers started getting their carry-on luggage, Raul reached into his pocket to get his sunglasses. The unfairness of it all came back to Raul as he put his sunglasses back on, turning away from the aisle so others couldn't see the unnatural indigo of his eyes.

He knew he was a mutant, all the kids in his school knew about it, but didn't seem to have any actual powers. And now, just days after he learned about it, he was on his way to grandpere Raul's funeral. Once again, he wondered if it was the news that his grandson was a mutant that had caused his heart attack. He knew it wasn't true, but the fact that his grandfather had died just around the same time that he noticed his eyes had changed, over a two hundred kilometers apart, shook him to the core, though it did occur to him that if he'd been properly at home in Manitoba when it happened, the distance would have been even greater.

His father hadn't been able to get out of his parlimentary duties, something to do with Dr. Diabolik's recent raid on Winnapeg - at least it didn't spill into the suburbs, he thought, he'd be crushed if anything happened to his home - and his mother was already in Mercier because of Grandpa Raul's illness, so he was flying alone for the first time. He could hear the mix of English and the somewhat less familiar French bubbling around him, but he wasn't interested in listening in. However, it reminded him that he'd better start getting used to speaking in French again; grandmere never much approved of speaking English (or Portuguese, for that matter, as she always took grandfather to task when his childhood habits arose), and he suspected she didn't approve of his father, either. The fact that he had risen to be an MP - a minor back-seat MP, but still - only seemed to make her more suspicious of him. He felt a bit self-conscious of his poor speaking skills, especially given the way his Parisian-born French teacher would berate him for his Quebecois accent and 'colonial habits of speech', but he guiltily hoped that grandma was too distraught to notice this time.

As he walked down the gangway, he could see his mother and grandmother at the end of the hallway. He walked briskly towards them, giving Ma a hug and a kiss before doing the same to his grandmother.

But then, as he embraced her, his head began to swim, and a cold chill overcame him. He backed in horror, and in English said, "Grandmother, your, in your chest, there's..." he shook violently, and pointed towards the small ball of... something he could somehow feel over her heart.

"Speak properly, child," she retorted in French, "What are you talking about?"

Mastering himself, he answered in the same language, "There's... when I touched you, I could feel, there's some, some kind of, you need to see a doctor immediately! I could feel it, it's a lump, right there..."

His mother and grandmother stared at him in confusion just before he passed out.

Out, damnéd Spot! Bad Doggy!
Last Edit: 4 years 4 months ago by Schol-R-LEA.

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4 years 4 months ago - 1 month 1 week ago #16607 by Schol-R-LEA
Schol-R-LEA replied the topic: The Micro-Scenes thread
Candler Mansion, Atlanta, Georgia
17 April 1983

Bo Candler tugged nervously at the bow tie his mother had made him wear for church that morning, peeking around the corner before surreptitiously opening the door to his late grandfather's study to sneak in. He hated the way he was expected to dress, almost as much as he hated the awful name Beauregard Mason Candler, but he couldn't admit that to his Ma, no matter what. He had been feeling strange for weeks, both physically and emotionally, but he never told anyone about it because he was ashamed of how he was thinking and feeling.

After all, family honor was at stake.

He idly wondered if he was a fairy. That would be bad; he knew that no one had spoken to his uncle Raymond for years after he'd left for San Francisco, no one went to his funeral last January, no one even spoke his name. Bo knew that he had died of something terrible, but no one wanted to say what; he could only guess that it was that new Gay disease, AIDS, which was always on the news lately, but no one wanted to talk about it.

Or maybe he was a mutant, like Asa and Sophie. That would be almost as bad, but at least they hadn't been kicked out of the family like Ray was. His older siblings did have to go to some school in the North, way off in New Hampshire, but at least they weren't treated like strangers. Asa was even working for Coca-Cola as a chemist, the first member of the family to work for the company that the family fortune was built on in three generations, and spoke excitedly about designing new soft drinks for them.

Closing the door behind him, he started scanning the old library shelves for the book he wanted. Finally, he found the book he wanted, an old leather-bound printing of Hamlet from the turn of the century.

His mother was in love with Shakespeare, and in love with her new videocassette player, too. Last night, she had cajoled him and Sophie (home for a break) into watching an older film version of the play, the one with Sir Laurence Olivier in it. Sophie didn't sit still through it, like usual, preferring to speed off somewhere, but much to his surprise, Bo found it fascinating. The part that really stuck out was the character of Hamlet's girlfriend, Ofeeya or something like that (he had missed the credits at the beginning so he wasn't sure how it was spelled). Opening the book, he quickly read through it, not realizing how fast he was going, until he got to the third scene, where Laertes (another strange name) was preparing to leave. There he saw it: Ophelia.

His heart quickened, remembering how strange the name seemed, even stranger than Beauregard, but it was such a pretty name, too. If he were a girl, he'd want a name that pretty.

He pushed the thought aside. There were some things you didn't dare admit to wishing for, not even to yourself.

Remembering how sad the story was in the film, he started crying for the poor, waifish girl torn apart by her love of her brother and her betrothed, driven to madness and suicide. He wiped away his tears and returned to reading, eager to see how the story really went.

Out, damnéd Spot! Bad Doggy!
Last Edit: 1 month 1 week ago by Schol-R-LEA.

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4 years 4 months ago - 4 years 4 months ago #16611 by Schol-R-LEA
Schol-R-LEA replied the topic: The Micro-Scenes thread
Berne, Switzerland
11 November 1953

"Please don't take this personally, Simon. Or perhaps I should call you Sean Causewell?"

What was left of my hair bristled at hearing my original name for the first time in decades. "I don't know, should I call you Shlomo?"

Sidney seemed just as put out by his own given name, shifting the pistol in his hand. "I'd rather you didn't. I expect you know why I am here, then."

"I'm guessing it's the connection we've cultivated with the Gehlenapparat. Can't say I blame you for it, I wasn't too comfortable getting in bed with a bunch of ex-Nazis but I could hardly afford to pass up an opportunity, wot?"

"Actually, it has to do more with the likes of The Network. Surely you can see the trouble that's causing people." Despite the chatty amiability of the conversation, I couldn't help but worry about the long-dead man, now somehow returned to youthfulness, who was here in my own office to assassinate me. I resigned myself to the fact that he was just that much better than I was, especially now in my old age. Reilly had been my own mentor once, after all, and seeing how he was somehow younger than he was even in 1915, I knew I didn't stand a chance.

Oddly, the thought that it was Armistice Day came to mind. I guess some wars never do end.

"Sorry old chap, much as I would like to talk over old times, I really do need to get on with this. You've built a rather impressive system here, and while certain... interests I am party to applaud your work, MI-6 has asked my group to send a message to the people who support you. As much as they would have preferred to smash your school to the ground, I am afraid that this the most we can do right now. Goodbye, Simon." With that, he leveled the gun at my head and fired.

Out, damnéd Spot! Bad Doggy!
Last Edit: 4 years 4 months ago by Schol-R-LEA.
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4 years 4 months ago - 4 years 4 months ago #16624 by Domoviye
Domoviye replied the topic: Rose
“Hi Rose, how are you doing?” Mind Over Matter called from down the the street..

“Pretty good, but uh, why are you here? And who's the lady in the silver dress?” Rose asked as she jogged over to the costumed hero. She was so used to Mind's powers keeping them unnoticed she didn't worry that they were talking in the middle of the busy street.

“This is Witch Mabel, she's helping me out with a possible mutant criminal. Mabel, this is Rose, the girl I told you about.”

“Hello, Rose. You've made a very good impression on Mind,” the woman said, smiling pleasantly her chubby cheeks were bright red in the cold.

Rose knew she'd seen the hero before, there weren't many chubby, older women who looked almost ready to be a grandmother acting as a hero. Then it clicked. “Hey I know you, you and your team got your asses kicked- Uh... I mean... it's nice to meet you.”

Mind hit his forehead with his palm, while Mabel turned even redder as she said, “It's a pleasure to meet you to. My team and I aren't very martially oriented, but we do try our best.”

“Yeah, I've heard you guys have a great anti-bullying program. Uh, I've got to get going now, lunch break is almost over for school and I don't want to be late for math class. Good luck with everything, it was really nice meeting you Witch Mabel,” Rose said hurriedly.

As she headed back to school, she shook her head in embarrassment. “Good going Rose, insult the second hero you've ever met.” Still she had to admit it really wasn't her fault, Witch Mabel and her team were most often seen on Youtube under the title 'curb stomped', 'humiliated' and 'how not to be a hero'.
Last Edit: 4 years 4 months ago by Domoviye.
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4 years 3 months ago #16646 by Domoviye
Domoviye replied the topic: Miss Powerful
“Ready?” Miss Powerful asked her cousin.

“Are you sure no will come in here?”

“Yes I'm sure. I asked the gym teacher really nicely to let me use it after school. Although I may have accidentally signed myself up for the end of year talent show. You're suppose to be teaching me how to dance,” she said.

“You and I only know ballroom dancing, do you have a partner?” her cousin asked.

“Yeah, not really. That could be a problem,” Miss Powerful admitted. “Anyways, I figured this was a great place to practice some things and I wanted you here to see just how cool this is.”

“And to watch the door right?”

“Would you be so kind?” she asked, giving her best puppy dog impression.

“What are best friends for?”

She hugged her fourteen year old cousin, careful to control her strength so that she didn't break any ribs or leave bruises. “Thank you! Now I think I might be able to fly, watch me.”

Going to the middle of the gym, she did some stretches, then with a look of concentration ran five steps and jumped. Her cousin watched in amazement as she went ten feet into the air and landed almost thirty feet away.

“ISN'T THAT COOL!!!!”

“Wow!”

“OK I'm going to try to reach the other end of the gym now.” Closing her eyes, she tried to visualize herself flying. She thought it would be a lot like swimming, only drier. Filling her lungs with air, she ran as fast as she could and threw herself into the sky. Looking down she saw the ground far below, at which point her every instinct screamed that she was going to fall and break every bone in her body. Her stomach began to churn.

On the ground her cousin screamed and ran, barely escaping the foul smelling mess that hit the ground, followed a second later by Miss Powerful.

“OW!” Miss Powerful said, holding her head which she had cleverly used to help soften her landing.

“Are you alive?” Her cousin called from the door of the gym office.

“Yes. Ow.”

“OK. I'll get a mop, while you hit the showers.”

“Ow. Can you help me up?” Miss Powerful asked, holding up a dripping hand.

“Um....” the older girl said looking carefully at the foul smelling muck covering the budding superhero. “No. You're super tough now, you'll survive.”

“Traitor! You're no longer my sidekick!”
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4 years 3 months ago - 4 years 3 months ago #16670 by Schol-R-LEA
Schol-R-LEA replied the topic: The Micro-Scenes thread
OK, this is an older non-WA story - not exactly fanfic, but whatever - that I had started about 11 years ago and just rediscovered. I thought some of you might enjoy the fragment I managed to write.

Sue for Peace
by Schol-R-LEA;2
2005:07:07

I was coming back from a Mysterious Informant gig - I did it up right, the whole Deep Throat schtick in the underground garage, keeping my face hidden in shadow and everything - and once I was sure I wasn't being tailed, I did a Scene Change into some more comfortable clothes and decided to take a walk around Lake Merritt before going home. Near the corner of 20th, however, I happened to notice a young girl with long, radiant black hair and a glowingly smooth pale complexion. She wore red and gold robes and an expression of innocent bewilderment. Now, this wasn't that unusual in Oakland, especially the Oakland in my home Ficton; but the sheer perfection of her appearance set off warning bells in my head. If she's not a Mary Sue, I thought, then I'll eat my fedora. Somewhere along the line, I had wandered into another Author's story.

OK, that's not to big a deal, really. As an Authorial Avatar myself - a Marty Stu, to you real-world folks - I had no place complaining about other chara's business, and while I don't come and go quite as easily as some of my Author's charas, I figured there had to be some way back to my own Fandom. Still, there seemed something out of place about the kid.

Suddenly it clicked: the robes were from Hogwarts, the school in the Harry Potter Ficton. Whoever this kid was, she was a long way from home, and I couldn't help but wonder what kind of story would have a teenage witch from Great Britain wandering a major city in Northern California. A bad one, was the obvious answer that leapt to mind. However, rather than risk interfering in a Plot (I'm willing to give the writer the benefit of the doubt, here), I decided to do what I do best - skulk around on the edges of things and watch events unfold.

Out, damnéd Spot! Bad Doggy!
Last Edit: 4 years 3 months ago by Schol-R-LEA.
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