Question The Micro-Scenes thread

Kayda knocked once waited a second and stepped into her brothers dorm room only to stop dead in her tracks with her jaw somewhere around her belly button.

"I-I'm a sex- sexy cat god of l-l-love," Danny stuttered, he was in full cat boy mode and was wearing a pair of tight jeans that hid ABSOLUTELY nothing.

"NO! NO! NO!" a purple winged fairy shouted, slapping a twig into her palm. "How are you going to go from a pet kitty boy for the ladies into a stud muffin, with an attitude like that?" she demanded. "Now stick out your chest, get that testosterone of yours flowing and try it again from the top!"

"I'm a sex- AAAAHHHHH!" Danny shouted as he saw Kayda, trying desperately to cover himself.

The fairy flew to the door looking furious. "No visitors while the love doctor is at work. You can get your turn at him after I'm done whipping him into shape!"

Kayda just blinked in astonishment as the door slammed in her face. "Uh? What? Who? Why?" The bizarre scene began to replay in her mind only to stop in horror at what she'd just seen. "Brain bleach. I need brain bleach," Kayda told herself. "Lots and lots of brain bleach."

Starlette cruised high over Regina on a brilliant star shaped manifestation that was the size and feeling of a beanbag chair., revelling at the joy of being a superhero in a town where very little ever happened. Sure just helping out the police with basic crimes and getting into one or two Parahuman fights a year wouldn't make her famous, but she probably wouldn't end up dead either. After she was done college she could see about moving to Vancouver or Toronto to play with the big shots. For now the clear skies of her prairie home were enough for her.

The peaceful night was shattered by the sound of metal breaking and crumpling. Jumping to her feet Starlette pushed her manifesting into a steep dive hoping to reach the accident before anyone was too badly hurt to save. Her mind was already going over her first aid training and guessing at the most likely injuries for a car accident.

She gasped at seeing six figures standing in the middle of the busy street surrounded by dead bodies.

The largest one, wearing a pitch black body suit picked a car up in one hand and threw it at her as easily as a beach ball. Instinctively Starlette veered to the side easily avoiding it, then the blood drained from her face as she saw the people!e screaming inside the vehicle. Stars appeared around the car slowing it down, desperately trying to save the people from a deadly landing. Even as she struggled to handle the weight and momentum she hit her radio. "Starlette here, need immediate back up, The Savage Six are -"

She was thrown off her star as another car slammed into her. A small star appeared around her hand keeping her in the air. Her eyes widened in horror as the two airborne cars hit the ground, the people in the first car might have survived, the other one...

She let her anger at the senseless murder overpower the grief and horror. Filling the air between her and the A list supervillains with small razor sharp stars, she sent them flying in for the kill.

Monolith waded through the razor storm as the rest of the Savage Six casually walked away intent on their own missions of death.

**

Rescue crews dug Starlette out from under a transport truck that was embedded in the side of a building the next day. She was cradled inside one of her stars which had kept her alive.

As they eased her onto a stretcher she regained conscious, moaning in pain from the multitude of injuries.

"D-did I slow them down?" She asked faintly.

The paramedic looked away, trying to ignore the wails of ambulances and desperate shouts for help and construction equipment to rescue survivors in the rubble. "Yeah, you slowed them down until help could arrive," he finally said.

It looked like she was trying to say something but after a few seconds she fell back into unconsciousness, a tiny glimmer of a smile on her lips.

2016 Sept 26, 3rd period
Laird Hall

Once the students had returned to an orderly lineup at the end of the warm-up stretching exercises, Tolman-sensei started by saying, "Charger, I would like you to spar with someone I have brought in for today's class. The rest of you watch and be prepared to tell me what Charger did well with and what he could have done differently."

With this, a diminutive white-haired girl who looked to be one of the junior high students stepped up into the ring opposite Nick. A few of the students snickered, but a few who seemed to recognize her were puzzled.

Turning toward Charger, Tolman continued, "You opponent today is codenamed Ribbon. She is much smaller than you, so you might expect to be able to use your size against her, but you may also find your size makes it harder to reach down to get at her. You both will be free to use full power."

Once they were both in position, Tolman called, "Hajime!"

***

As the stunned Nick Brennan, Jr. shook his arms and legs out once the ribbons he'd been bound with dematerialized, Tolman addressed the rest of the class. "In case you haven't noticed, the point of this demonstration was that you cannot afford to take anything for granted when facing a an unknown opponent, especially one whom you would expect to be weaker than you are." Turning to the undersized fighter, she said, "Thank you Miss Morgan, you can go now. I know Dr. Aranis wanted you back at his office as soon as possible."

With that, the child-sized grad student gave her former teacher a proper bow and trotted off to the female teachers' lockers, an amused smirk on her face.

2007 August 29, 12:15 PM
Crystal Hall

"Man, this sucks." sulked Clover. "I was really looking forward to rooming with you, too."

Irene nodded, agreeing whole-heartedly. "Anyway, they already have me in my room in Poe and everything. Stupid parents."

"Yeah, but, I mean.. is it for real?" said Bethany, sort of cautiously.

"What, that I'm crazy? No way!"

"No, the thing about, uhm, you being inta girls and all."

"Oh. Yeah, yeah, sorta I guess," Palantir let her eyes drop. "I mean, I kinds like guys too, I guess, and... I mean, me'n Missy were just playing around! They didn't haveta freak out about it!"

Irene had already explained how her mother caught her and her old friend Melissa kissing in her room back a few weeks ago, and how both her folks totally had a cow over it. Suddenly, she started crying, and shouted, "I hate them!"

Bethany just looked at her for a moment before whispering, "At least you still got them..."

Palantir's eyes went wide as she remembered about Abracadabra's parents, and how they had died in a car crash when she was just little. "I, I... oh man I didn't.." she stammered.

Then, in the accidental way she often does, Estelle defused the situation by musing out loud, "Hey, if I tell'em I like girls too, would they let me room with you over at Poe?"

Bethany stared at Clover for a moment, then said, "You dummy! They don't put you in Poe for being gay, they put you there because they think you're nuts!"

Irene, feeling the spell Mrs. Horton put on her to remind her not to spill the beans, bit her tongue. Finally she said, "Yeah, my folks were totally insisting that it was the school's fault and demanding that the school do something to 'fix' me, even after Mrs. Carson said there wasn't anything to fix, but my Dad was making such a ruckus they finally gave in and put me there as a 'helper' just to shut'em up." She didn't mention how Mrs. Carson had pulled a fast one on her folks about that, either.

"Oh, oh yeah." Clover finally said.

"That doesn't really sound like Carson, though, does it? I mean, she's a real superhero and really strict. Why would she do that?"

"I guess she figured it was better'n my folks kicking me out of the house," Irene said with a shrug. She could still feel the bite-your-tongue spell, so she didn't say anything else about that. "Anyway, like I said, I kinda like boys too, right, so it can't be all that bad. Did I tell you about the really cute cat boy they got in Poe now?"

Mid September 2007: Sim Briefing Room 2:

Sgt. Wilson sat casually on the desk in the front of the room, and looked out over the three teams in front of him, The Grunts, Star League Jr. and Team Kimba. "So I guess you're wondering why I've asked you to meet here today."

Jade piped up first, "Is it because one of us is the killer?"

Sgt. Wilson chuckled, "No. Have you killed anyone lately?"

"Not since last Christmas."

<(Phase) Not now Gen.>

Everyone was staring at her, "Well it was only fair, they killed me first."

Sgt. Wilson cleared his throat, "Continuing on. We're here to discuss Lancer. As I understand it, he's a member of all three teams and we need to clarify when he'll be participating in Sims for each team."

Dredz spoke up, "Hey... knock a self a pro, Slick! That gray matter backlot perform us DOWN, I take TCB-in', man!"

Sgt. Wilson stared at him blankly, everyone else in the room looked at him like he was crazy. Finally Wallflower spoke up, "Wait, I speak Jive."

Before anyone else did anything, she slapped Dredz in the back of the head and said, "Speak normal English or I'll tell Alakazam you're deeply in love with her."

"In the third such incident this year, the Knights of Purity and supporters of Humanity First! clashed with members of the Easterbury Church, who were picketing the funeral of a slain member of the Goodkind-backed Knights. In a statement made after the incident, Reverend Philby, the leader of the church, reiterated the Church's position that all superhuman powers, including advanced technology, are the result of Satanic pacts. He was quoted as stating, "Everyone knows that these so-called 'mutants' are demons whom the Goodkinds themselves summoned from Hell. These 'mutants' are no longer human, and neither are the Goodkinds or their Infernal servants.'"

"He furthermore announced the church's intention to repeat an earlier protest to be held out outside of the Santa Clara headquarters of Intel Electronics, and renewed their claim that silicon chips are actually engraved with Satanic runes which control the minds of their users. Members of the church are forbidden to use any electronic equipment, including those embedded in modern automobiles and other machinery."

Tom slipped invisibly into his apartment and after making sure the curtains were closed released the invisibility spell and slipped off his superhero mask. The night had gone well, he'd stopped five muggings, a potential corner store robbery and scared the crap out of a young drug dealer. Now he just wanted some munchies, a long hot shower and a nice warm bed. He should also call his girlfriend let her know he was all right after his patrol, he wasn't in the mood for much action but she might be willing to come over and spend the night.

Going into the kitchen he stopped dead, his face turning white.

His fridge was open and what looked like blood stained the floor. Moving forwards he saw a thin hand hanging down, blood was congealed on the fingers and palm.

"Amanda," he gasped, rushing to open the fridge, praying it wasn't too late.

As the fridge door swung open Tom once more stopped dead.

"DUDE! I'm sorry about your ketchup! I totally messed up my entry!" his best friend said.

Tom shook his head in complete awe at the situation. "Ed, how did you get into my fridge?"

"Well, ya see" Ed said, waving an empty liquour bottle around. "I was having a drink and I thought to myself, self your buddy Tom needs to loosen up. So I got a bottle of vodka, some orange juice and aimed right for your kitchen table. And I missed."

"Why the hell didn't you get out of my fridge?"

Ed shifted a little, which was really difficult to do since he was crammed into a small fridge sitting on and covered in ruined food. "Well I thought to myself, self I really should get out of this fridge. But I was feeling a little hot and I never realized that hamburger buns could be so comfortable to sit on. So I had a little bit to drink and settled down for a nap."

"I hate you sometimes," Tom muttered.

There was a flash of light and Ed disappeared, only to reappear ten seconds later, still covered in food but with two full bottles of vodka and orange juice in his hands. "I know what you need. A drink."

Sighing Tom grabbed two large glasses from the cupboard. "Yeah, I really do. Fill me up."

Buck Swift, Boy of Tomorrow strutted into Crystal Hall followed by a rather pretty girl who could have been his sister. She was looking at everythign rather excitedly glancing every few seconds at a blocky type object with a mini radar dish attached to it.

Grabbing a lunch tray he handed one to the girl and pointed her at the food and then a table across the cafeteria where some of his friends were sitting.

The people at the table watched in confusion as he grabbed a burger and walked over to them.

"Who's the girl? You're sister?" his roommate asked.

"Nope, she's from another dimension. We accidentally did something that opened up a wormhole and here she is," Buck said.

"So why does she look so much like you?"

"She is me, kind of. Just with XX chromosome instead of XY."

"Uh huh. So she didn't try to kill you or anything? Because in a lot of science fiction alternate dimension clones usually try to kill you or drag you off to fight some really bad people and save their dimension."

"Nope, we took the third option."

"Third option?"

"We had sex," Buck said proudly.

Buck's roommate and friends looked at him strangely. "But she's you."

"Exactly, we're a perfect match. And she's hot!" Buck said.

The people at the table looked at each other and quickly decided they wanted to be somewhere else.

"What, I'm a total babe!" Buck shouted.

"Ms. Gillman, we normally don't allow pets on campus, but since a teacher vouched for you, we are allowing it under the 'familiars' exception," Ms. Hartford conceded grudginly. "However..."
"Yes?"
"You are still responsible for the usual pet-related chores -- feeding, cleaning, getting your cat a license and shots..."
"But it's not really a cat, it's a..."
"It presents as a cat, so it will be treated like a cat," smirked Hartford.

Dunwich Humane Society offices, Saturday.
"...I see... and which breed or cat is yours?"
"Puddle."
"Poodle? That's a dog breed, not a cat breed."
"No, p-u-d-d-l-e."
"I've never heard of this breed. Must be pretty rare. Do you have any documentation to verify that?"
"Just... look at him." And, in fact, the baby shoggoth had relaxed into its liquid form, resembling a dark puddle of some oily substance.

An exasperated Amelia Hartford stopped and saved her work for what had to be the hundredth unwanted interruption that day, "Yes. What is it now?" she asked as she turned to the latest whining pleb.

"Good afternoon, Ms Hartford. I trust your day has been going well?" The Assistant Headmistress' attitude in that moment had absolved Elyzia Grimes of whatever guilt she may have held. With a bit of luck, this could prove an object lesson to some of the program's students as well.

"Administration is working on a tight schedule and limited manpower, as you well know."

"Indeed, that is why Ambassador Rythax and Merlin only desire a few minutes of your time, in private, to discuss inocculations. I believe 'It presents as a cat, so it will be treated like a cat' was the example used in your earlier policy statement?" Pausing to let implications sink in, "By the way, Caduceus ran cross-check of your shot records against a randomly-selected student's. It seems you are delinquent on quite a few vaccinations yourself."

"Exactly how randomly, need I ask?" Hartford replied, trying to ignore the tandom growling nearby.

"Clover picked the name out of a hat," Grimes smiled. It's hard to get more random than Clover. "Did you know that Metro was completely up-to-date from the last time he visited Africa? His employer at the time was very, very thorough."

"Now listen up mutant," the H1 leader said. "We're not all cruel here, we were just trying to get rid of a mutant who had hurt some of the local boys when you interfered. If you tell us where he got to we'll let you go with a warning. Otherwise..." he nodded at the gasoline soaked logs that surrounded the H.

The mutant seemed to think about it for a few seconds, his breathing was quick, almost panicked and there was a wild look in his one visible eye, the other was swollen shut. Then he spit right in the leaders face.

"Well, they can't say I didn't make the offer," the man said, taking out a handkerchief to wipe his face as he walked away. "Light him up!"

Lit torches were thrown onto the pile, and the mutant was surrounded by a bonfire that seemed to leap up covering him from head to toe. Almost inaudible because of the roar of the flames the mutant moaned and scream.

The leader covered his nose and mouth with his arm, not wanting to smell the coming stench. He had never had the pleasure of being at a burning, and he desperately wanted to be somewhere else, but that wouldn't do if he wanted to keep his position. So when he was well back from the flames he turned to watched.

The flames seemed to dance, moving unnaturally as the mutant raised his burning hands over his head. The screams turned to laughter. Fire lashed out engulfing the two guards who had their rifles out ready to shoot. The H1 members screamed, some scrambled for their weapons, others tried to run. The leader could only stare in horror as the mutant stepped forward and flames reached out for him.

Should not Do lists are something we should not give my Muse...

Things Mr. Welch Is Not Allowed to Do in an RPG
2344. Every time the catgirl fails a skill check, I won't spritz her with the water bottle as punishment
~*~

“Hey Molly, can you help me with my elemental summoning later?” Kayda asked as Molly made her way through the new halls of Poe taking in the changes while on her way to Choe's room.

“Um, sure. But I thought you where pretty good at summoning spirits.” the bespectacled girl quizzed.

“Kinda sorta. I do better with Lakota spirits, not the...” Kayda paused to chose her words. “More abstract types.”

“Ah, ok. So why do you need elemental summoning anyway?”

Kayda let out a sigh. “I want a water elemental to follow Danny around to spritz him when he gets into something that might hurt or kill the cat. Or get it detention.”

“Mmmm might be easier to make a spritz bottle equipped drone or something. Jade can whip you up one. I think she's managed to get things to last 24 hours over the summer.”

“Yeaaaah... No offense Molly, but you're the only member of Wondercute I trust to help with this after the other members tried to press gang him into the group.”

~*~

Things Mr. Welch Is Not Allowed to Do in an RPG
2016. While extremely cool, my superhero needs something more than just a gun that fires badgers at people.
~*~

Cait stared in shock at the weapon that one of the new crop of gun bunny work shoppers had brought in. “Why in the love of all that is Holy are there cages of rabid badgers being brought onto my range?” she growled as she moved out from behind the counter that she had been manning in her role of range assistant.

“They're the ammo.” the kid said proudly as he hefted the monstrosity that make Cait's inner Artifacter cringe.

“No. Just no.”

~*~

Things Mr. Welch Is Not Allowed to Do in an RPG
2061. Note to self: Pinata golems are a bad idea
~*~

“Damn it Jade, quit screwing around with the pinata! This isn't funny any more!” Lindsey complained as the dragon shaped construct the rest of Wondercute had made her for her birthday chased Pern around the room.

~*~

1513. I will not shoot a Great Old One just to say I did it.
~*~

“Um, excuse me Mr Gothmog... but can I shoot you just so I can say I have? It would give me a lot of street cred with the Goobers. And I think they're the reason your daughter is missing...”

~*~

2059. Even if I no longer lose SAN around them, no domesticating nightgaunts.
~*~

/It says a lot about my life and were I live when seeing two bound Nightgaunts at the entrance to my new school doesn't phase me/ John Loki Stevens thought as he unpacked in his room in Twain. /maybe I should tell someone about that so I can get a transfer to Poe. Nah, I think I'll study the bindings and see if I can manage it myself,/

~*~

2100.  No matter how big these sewers seem to be, we aren't finding a Shipley's Donuts down here.
~*~

“Are you Jadis Diabolik?”

Jadis sighed and with out looking up from her book pointed to a sign that read 'If you have a beef with my father, take a number and leave a note with the pertinent details and someone might get back to you.'

“Ah, no. I'm not here about your dad.”

“Really?” the scientist's homely daughter asked perking up to study the freashthing who had interrupted her reading.

“I was wondering if I could rent some space in the tunnels to open a New Hampshire branch of the Frying Dutchman. I figure with the amount of coffee the devisors drink, they need sweets! I'll cut you in on the profits...”

~*~

2120.  Elves Drow do not squirt ink out of their nipples as a defense mechanism.
2121.  Elves Drow also do not secrete a foul tasting oil when threatened.
~*~

Jobe eyed the slip of paper someone had a fixed to his lab door. “I don't see the point of the ink squirting, but a fear sweat based defensive measure isn't a bad idea..”

~*~

2123.  No regifting cursed items on Christmas.
~*~

“Hey, which do you think the Rev would have a bigger fit over when he opens it on Christmas?” John asked Jericho who was the only one willing to sit near the DPA agent in training. “The serpent person skin thong, or the...”

“Give him the horga'hn.” the divisor cut in pointing to a crudely carved figurine poking from John's bag. “Just add this mark to it.” he added as he sketched out a weird triangle rune.

Horgs'hn

~*~

2172. Even if its beneficial, no changing the number of limbs on a character without the other player's consent.
2202. When I take watch, everybody must wake up with the same number of limbs as they went to sleep with.
~*~

“Jobe, why did Mark wake up with a hand in his pants?” Mrs Carson said regretting her wording as soon as the came out of her mouth as she opened the Doyle medical file on one of the freshmen. It looked like a smaller version of thing from the Addams family was waving out of the front of his boxers.

Jobe frowned as he looked over the picture. “this wasn't me... did this replace his...?”

“yes, yes it did. He has a urethra openings at the tops of every finger.”

~*~

2193. Inspire Courage is a great super power, unless you use it to get hordes of innocent bystanders to bum rush the super villain.
~*~

Lt. Mills looked down on the carnage that could have been avoided from his sniper perch, and then back to the so called hero that was preening before the news cameras. The Nashville PD had had things under control, the negotiator had been making head way and it looked like the situation would wrap up with no blood shed past the original guard who'd been injured.

Then the spandex jockey had shown up and then every one had abandoned the plan and bum rushed the building. Mills had apparently been out of range of what ever had caused them to go nuts, and all he could do was watch. Well... slowing his breathing he centered the cross hairs and...

Squeezed the trigger.

~*~

2207. We are not stopping the villain with small mammals armed with power tools.
2300.  It's cute when you train your hamster to attack their eyes.  Your weasel not so cute.
~*~

“Petshop...” Gunny sighed as he tried to massage his headache away as the replay showed a swarm of real odd animals, some armed with an assortment of tools, spewed from her purse and over run the villain's deference.

“What? It worked didn't it?”

“It's not the tactic, but...”

A fuzzy head poked out of Petshop's pack, and the girl stroked it's head. “I got this bag from one of the founders of Wondercute.”

“That is what I thought.”

~*~

2291.  Even if he is "a mysterious entity whose nature is utterly foreign to the fabric of reality" Andy Kaufman does not count as a Great Old One.
~*~

“Are you sure Daddy?”

“Yes Sara, I am sure we have no relation to Andy Kaufman.”

“Oh thank Us.”

~*~

2311.  No matter what it would do to his spell casting chances, I can't cast shrink on the necromancer's undies.
2312.  You can only make so many called shots to the groin until it's an alignment check.
~*~

“John, what did you do to Wump?” Irene asked softly as the arrogant Death Eater in training swore and dropped his lunch tray to tug frantically at his pants.

“I finally got my Hold out spell working.” John said with a grin. “I managed to tag his skivies during Evasion class. They just went three sizes to small.”

Irene winced. “That makes how many times now that you've done something to his groin?”

“Why do you have to make that sound dirty? Going for the family jewels seems like the only way he gets the message.”

~*~

2392.  The teleporting spiders attacking us are not just going through a phase.
~*~

Jobe blinked as his latest arachni-form experiment blipped from within it's tank to the top of his work bench. “Oookay... that wasn't suppose to happen.”

~*~

1278. An elf wardancer chick in nothing but body paint is totally hot. A Vesten berserker in nothing but body paint not so much.
~*~

“So who convinced Fey to run the next few sims in just woad body paint?”

~*~

177. Stinking Cloud is a privilege, not a right.
1812. Not using any emission from the barbarian as flamethrower fuel.
~*~

-Fwoosh!!-

“GOD DAMN IT NATE! We're having a marshmallow roast here!”

“Sorry.”

~*~

1366. I will not use the mass suggestion spell to make the elf babes to make out.
~*~

“Oh crap... Sara just walked past the Drow with a mischievous look on her face.” Ayla said looking over the rail from the Kimba table. Fey flinched at the spike of emotions from below as the Drow swarm fell on each other in a orgy.

“This is just wrong... Peeper and Greasy are moving in and getting it all on tape.”

~*~

17. Collateral Damage Man is not an appropriate name for a super hero.
1792. Let's keep the collateral damage to under a billion dollars.
~*~

“Congratulations team 4C. Only one other sim team in the history of this class has done more property damage then you, and they had Tennyo on their team.” Gunny growled as he glared at the group made up of Clover, Crimson Comet, and Cheese. “the sim techs are still working out why the computer determined you managed to make California an island. You get one more try at this today. Try not to rival the Kimbas this time.”

~*~

2413. The barbarian can still berserk even if he hasn't had his morning coffee.
~*~

“Kid, don't listen to that ape.” Jericho said intercepting the Twain Frosh after overhearing the conversation the kid and a senior had been having about his roomate. “Razor is a good guy, but he isn't safe to taunt like he was suggesting. Especially before he's eaten.”

~*~

1313. I will do nothing that tarnishes Hello Kitty's memory.
~*~

“My God... is that a...”

“Yeah a Hello Kitty porno. Jade must never find out!”

When the fabulous Imp stepped into Kane Hall, every pair of eyes immediately turned to stare at her. Every single person in security knew who the Imp was, and that she didn’t belong in their offices…at least not without handcuffs. They were also aware that she avoided them like the plague, and would not have come without good reason.

“Hello, Imp,” Samantha ‘Sam’ Everhart greeting the Imp cautiously. “Chief Delarose said that you might show up.”

“And here I am,” Imp exclaimed with a broad grin, then giving a sweeping bow. “Ta da! The beautiful, talented, and fabulous Imp…at your service.”

Someone sitting at one of the desks snorted, “As if.”

When Sam looked at the source of the comment, the individual’s head ducked down to suddenly focus on the paperwork sitting in front of him. After a moment, she turned her attention back to the Imp. “I was told that you might have something for me.”

“Yes indeed,” Imp responded. Then with a flourish, she suddenly held out an envelope. “Here are a few of the weak spots I found around the campus perimeter. You know, places where an enterprising individual might be able to sneak in and out of campus without detection.”

“Thank you,” Sam said politely as she accepted the envelope. “This might be useful.”

But as Sam was about to turn away, Imp cleared her throat. “Of course,” she said cheerfully. “I’m interested in some…considerations.”

“What do you want?” Lieutenant Forsyth asked from a short distance away. He gave the Imp a wary look.

“How kind of you to ask,” Imp responded with a grin, before looking to Sam and turning a little more serious. “I’m looking for an empty room, large enough to use as a classroom.”

“But I thought you already had a classroom,” Forsyth pointed out.

“She does,” Sam said in agreement, giving the Imp a curious look. “Why would you need another one?”

For a moment, Imp just stood there, smiling and swishing her tail back and forth. “I’m going to be teaching a few special topics classes,” she finally explained in a cheerful tone. “Unfortunately, I don’t have space in my regular room for all the training materials, and I can’t very well rearrange my room back and forth every day. That would be WAY too much work.”

“Special topics?” Sam asked with a skeptical look.

“Of course,” Imp responded. “Every topic I teach is special. Anyway, admin says that we don’t have enough available classrooms for me to get a second, but suggested that you guys in security might know where I can get one.”

Sam stared at Imp for a moment with a suspicious look, then her eyes went down to the envelope in her hand. With a loud sigh, she announced, “Fine. I know of a room that just might work for you. From the measurements on file, it should be large enough to work as a classroom.”

With that, Sam went to a large filing cabinet that rested against the back wall. She dug through it for just a few seconds before pulling out a thick file. From that, she took several items, then placed the rest of the file back into the cabinet.

“According to our records,” Sam explained, “when the tunnels were first dug from Dunn Hall, this was one of the first side rooms excavated. It was originally intended as a storage room for the classrooms in Dunn, but somehow, it fell into student hands. The last student to use it died in an accident about four years ago, so it’s been empty and locked with a security seal since. We have no use for it, so here…” Sam handed the Imp a sheet of paper with directions to the room, along with a key for the security lock.

Imp held up the key and gave it an unimpressed look. “A key. How quaint.”

“You may have to clean the room,” Sam said, “but it’s yours.”

The Imp gave a nod and said, “Thanks,” before hurrying off.

Once the Imp was gone, Lieutenant Forsyth turned to Sam and said, “You do know that the last student to use that room was Scrounge? He was a hoarder, who died when a pile of his…collection fell on him. The only reason we still had that room locked up, is because nobody wanted to deal with cleaning it out…”

Sam smiled faintly at that. “Really? You don’t say…”

Lieutenant Forsyth shook his head and chuckled. “If nothing else, maybe the Imp will think twice about making security chase her all over campus.”

The Headmaster looked down at the subdued girl standing in front of him.

"Do you know why I've called you in here, Petshop?"

The confused biodevisor shook her head. Wordlessly, the former villain turned his monitor around so that she could read the screen. The website was green, with a logo formed by a pink tentacle in the shape of a cancer ribbon. There was an announcement at the center of the page.

"It is with joy, sadness, and a great deal of bemusement that we announce the closing of this website. For we have apparently fulfilled our purpose. The Pacific Northwest Tree Octopus is no longer endangered. Scientists are still struggling to understand exactly what made their recovery possible, but our favorite cephalopod has been spotted throughout the entire length of its original range, and quite a bit farther besides. Sightings are increasing rapidly, and it seems unlikely that the Pacific Northwest Tree Octopus will be going extinct anytime soon."

Petshop looked down at her shoes. "Oh," she said. "That project."

The Imp stood in front of a sturdy metal door, staring at the strange device that was connected to both the door and the frame. This was a security seal, which not only locked the door, but also notified the security office if anyone tried to removed it.

Since this was Whateley Academy, Imp was confident that a number of students could have easily gotten into the room beyond, without disturbing security’s seal. In fact, she would have been quite disappointed if nobody had already done so. After, all, what was the purpose of such a lock, if not to challenge you to bypass it?

For a moment, the Imp considered the seal and how she could bypass it herself. Several options had already come to mind. But then, she looked down at the key in her hand and smiled wryly.

“Well,” she mused aloud, “using a key is a rather novel approach…”

Seconds later, Imp deactivated the seal and removed it, dropping it unceremoniously on the floor. Then she opened the door and felt along the wall, hoping to find a light switch. As soon as she did, the entire room was illuminated. The Imp froze, her eyes going wide as she took in her new classroom, or her new Imp Lair, as she was already thinking of it.

“What the hell?” Imp blurted out in surprise.

She had a hard time making out the full dimensions of the room, because it was already full. From floor to ceiling, the entire room seemed to be packed full of boxes of various sizes and types. She could see hard plastic, metal, and cardboard contains in various sizes, all piled upon each other in what seemed like a random fashion. There were narrow paths open between the rows, though several of the paths had been sealed off due to collapsed stacks.

“I’ve been played,” Imp said in realization, remembering what Sam Everhart had said about her needing to clean out a few things. “I knew I couldn’t trust security.” Her eyes narrowed as she looked over the room again, muttering, “This place looks like one of Doctor Avarice’s stashes…or that warehouse where they put the Ark.”

After hesitating only a few seconds, Imp began digging into boxes, humming the theme music from Indiana Jones. The first box she opened was full of socks, in unopened packages. The next one contained shoes, old and dirty ones that had definitely been used. Further boxes revealed old magazines, ceramic mugs, and parts from what appeared to be disassembled clocks.

“Definitely like one of Doctor Avarice’s stashes,” Imp said in disgust.

Imp opened what she’d decided was going to be her last box, and found it full of children’s books. More than half of them were from Dr. Seuss. She sat down and made herself comfortable as she picked up the book on the top and began flipping through it. As she read, her tail started to swish back and forth.

“So, you want to play games with me,” the Imp finally announced as an evil grin began to form on her face, one that could have been worthy of the Grinch himself. “I like games.”

Felix Fossor,

Ch. 4: Unpleasant Surprises
unpublished draft as of June 2024, co-written with Admiral Everheart

The failures of the Exalted and Lancelot exercises in Fall 1989 were only the first of several unpleasant surprises for the Joint Chiefs of Staff in the next two years. Not only had the newly formed Aegis units failed to live up to expectations, but most of the veterans who were tasked with training teams had reached retirement age. By 1990, several of the most seasoned soldiers, airmen and Marines who had been part of the earliest units, now well into their seventies, were succumbing to age.

The few Vietnam era vets who had survived extra-normal incursions were mostly incapable of continuing the work; the decision not to form Aegis units, based on the incorrect assumption that the demonic intruders encountered in World War II had all been summoned by Nazi sorcerers, left them unprepared for the instances that did occur, and the isolated locations of those had meant that even if they had been the incidents had ended by the time a response could have been mounted.

Then came the one-two punch of the end of the Cold War, and the opening rounds of First Persian Gulf War. While the rest of the world cheered the fall of the Berlin Wall, and sighed in relief as the Sword of Damocles seemed to pass from their heads, the military leaders had to face the prospects of loss of funds and a winding down of missions.

[Need to research the 'peace dividend' BS and just how it changed things. Adm. was able to give a lot of details but need to flesh out w other sources, too much TS stuff in what she said.]

[Need stuff on lead-up to Gulf War too - skip to good part]

The sudden appearance of Al Rasheed's insurgency, and especially their heavy use of mutants and other paranormals, was a huge shock to everyone, not the least because they had declared their intention to hold the 'liberated' Kuwait City against both Iraqi and Coalition forces. This was followed by their even more surprising decision to dismantle the petrochemical infrastructure, with Rasheed stating that the 'dark blood of the Fatherless Foe' was haram and shouldn't be unearthed.

[Not sure where to take the whole thing of Al Rasheed's forces suddenly disappearing and the whole Project Sampson supersoldier fiasco. Too many details? Need to push formation of EQUALIZER and merger of EQ and Aegis further off.]

Dr. Wavun studied the young couple sitting on the couch. Marriages just after high school were almost always a mistake. No matter how perfect the pairing seemed at the time, youth and insecurity always managed to get in the way.

"Now, tell me," the therapist said, "what the problem is again?"

The young woman looked up teary eyed. "I'm worried that Benny only loves me for my mushrooms."

Benny Garcia, boar avatar, made noises of protestation as Alexia Garcia, mushroom manifester, began to sob.

Dr. Wavun silently groaned. It was going to be a long day.

"Teri, why haven't you been going to Survival Class?" Headmistress Carson asked.

"But I have been going," Teri insisted.

"You haven't been seen anywhere near the class since the first day."

"Well of course!" Teri said rolling her eyes. "On the first day we were told not being noticed was the most important thing, so I've been making sure no one notices me. I expect an A by the end of the term since I'm so good at it."

Posted earlier by Elrod

Hobgoblins change form, so there's no real 'catalog' of different mage's hobgoblins. Fey's have had several different forms. Elle's have been fanged little snow bunnies, walking pac-men with teeth, and multi-colored little wolves - so far. Wait til she does the miniature pink Yetis

"Jade, what is that thing?" Tennyo asked.

Jade proudly held up what looked like a cabbage patch sized pink yeti which didn't seem very happy at the moment. "I found it wandering around the freshman floor. Isn't he so cute!"

"He's trying to rip your face off!"

"Don't worry about it, it's not like it hasn't happened before. And his fur is so soft! I'm going to call him George."

Mrs Nelson, marched down the coridor of Dickson cottage and into the dorm room, tacking care not to touch the ball of slidified green slime that had appeared almost in the middle of the door.

The girls sharing the room, where standing, side by side near the window, still in their nighties. Though Jenny was clutching a pink bathrobe.

"you have some explaining to do miss Vaughn"

"Its not My fault, Mrs Nelson," the girl said, wrining her hands, " I told jenny not to feed him after midnight."

"And what where you told about taking your experiments out of the lab?"

"But he was so cute."

"That will be quite enough, You girls, off to the showers, and I'll call maintanance to take care of this, before it hatches."

With that she turned and left the room.

The two girls remained motionless for a moment, as the wardrobe on the left opened and three brown and white furry faces, with large ears and cute button noses.

Jenny signed, looking at them, then back at the glowing lump by the door, "I'm relaly sorry, I'll help you get them back to your lab before breakast."

Demios looked up from her tray to fix a three eyes glare at the frosh pretty that had plunked her tray down across from her. With Phobos gone it took a serious effort to bring her fear aura to bear, but she managed to get it focused. For a moment it seemed to work, then it reflected back at her causing her to gasp.

“Ah hell. I'm sorry.” the girl gasped as the fear began to build between them. “I just saw a spot that was empty...”

“GET AWAY!!!” Demios roared as she lashed out with her claws. But instead of cutting through the girl's flesh Demios felt the two of them seen to lift into the air as they merged.

/Sorry. I'm not a mimic... I have no idea why this happen./ Demios heard in her head, the voice fearful and nearly in tears, as those around the Outcast table scattered at the sight of the Fury.

/Just... stop talking and let me think for a moment./ Demios sighed, started that there was no rage, no urge to lash out like there had been before.

“Don't come any closer Jobe.” the Fury warned as the drow scientist began creeping closer. “We are in control and not a raging beast.”

the combined being looked herself over, noting the differences between how they had looked when it was Demios and Phobos, and when it was Demios and... /What is your name?/

/Kira Mills. My code name is Harmonia cause I can cast a peaceful aura.../

the Fur's triple eyes blinked. /ok, relax and I think we can separate from each other. Then we're going to have Joe perform a test or two on us./

The Daleks seemed unsure of how to react to the small pile of students that were moaning in pain before them, finally they powered down allowing the Survival teacher Mr. Anderson to strode forward.

"Teri what are you doing?" He demanded.

"Building a fortress of the dead to protect myself," came the muffled reply.

"And why were you students helping her?"

"She threatened us with flagpole wedgies if we moved," an impromptu barrier said rubbing his back where several beanbags had hit him.

"Teri you are not suppose to use students as shields."

Teri flew out of her makeshift fort looking furious. "You said to use the environment to give us an edge, unless you wanted me ripping apart one of your robots, students were the only material available. I'm just following yo-."

She was cut off as all the Daleks buried her in a storm of beanbags.

"Remember class, you must always watch your surroundings and don't let yourself be distracted," Mr. Anderson said. "Teri you get a B minus."

"Hate you so much right now. Crushing you with my mind" she groaned.

Sam Everhart sat behind her desk, trying to finish her latest round of reports before the next ones came due. Just then, she heard a knocking from her office door.

“Come in,” Sam said, only to look up and see the Imp come into the room.

The Imp was dressed the same way that she usually was whenever Sam saw her around campus, with black slacks, a red blouse, and a black jacket. However, at the moment, she also had a grin on her face and a mischievious look in her eyes. Between that and the fact that her hands were behind her back, and Sam began to have a bad feeling.

“I am Imp,” the Imp announced proudly.

“I know who you are,” Sam responded, giving her a suspicious look.

“Imp I am,” Imp continued in almost sing-song voice. Then, with her tail noticeably swaying back and forth, the unusual art teacher asked, “Do you like green eggs and ham?”

With that question, the Imp pulled her hands out from behind her back, and revealed that she was holding a plate. She held the plate out for Sam, who could now see that it held two fried eggs and a ham steak. However, the ham and eggs were all covered with a neon green food coloring, which made the entire dish look almost radioactive. Sam no longer ate normal food, but even if she had, she never would have touched the unappealing mess on that plate.

Using the same sing-song tone, the Imp cheerfully continued, “Will you eat it in a boat? Will you eat it on a float? How about a county fair? Will you eat it with a bear?”

“Imp,” Sam started with a sinking feeling.

However, the horned teacher just grinned even more broadly. “Will you eat them on a plane? Will you eat them on a train? Will you eat them here or there? Will you eat them anywhere?”

“Enough of this,” Sam started again, though the Imp merely winked in response.

“Do you like green eggs and ham?” the Imp repeated with a smirk. “Do you like them, Sam I am?”

Then, the Imp abruptly turned and ran out the door, laughing maniacally and leaving the plate of unappetizing food on Sam’s desk. Sam leapt to her feet and rushed to the door, only to nearly collide with Franklin Delarose. Delarose was standing in the middle of the hallway, staring in the direction that the Imp had gone running.

“Everhart,” Delarose started, shaking his head and then pinching the bridge of his nose. “Sam. Please tell me you didn’t antagonize the Imp.”

"MOMMY! DADDY! There's a monster in my closet!!!!"

"Your up," my wife said sleepily from the warm comfortable bed.

"Oh come on! I just helped the police bust a drug lab and got shot like five times," I protested, My voice sounded distorted because I hadn't taken off my mask yet and I was busy hopping on one foot trying to pull my jet boot off.

"Your job. I have to hold a staff meeting in the morning. You get to sleep in."

Bowing my head in defeat I made my way to our sons room. It wasn't fair, just because I was a vigilante and a stay at home dad the rest of the time, and she was the big executive, I was the one who got to deal with all the nighttime interruptions. Stretching out a kink in my ribs, I walked I opened my sons door and struck a pose. "Never fear, Billy! Mecha Knight is here!"

It was corny but my son loved it.

"Daddy, there's a monster in the closet," Billy said hiding under the blankets.

Well this was more serious than I expected if my entrance didn't cheer him up. Using my sensors to avoid the pitiless Lego pieces, action figures and other foot killers, I made my way to the closet and opened the door. "See Billy, there's noth-"

I had to do a double take as I saw an ugly skinless witch like woman standing in between my sons Superman T-shirt and blue jeans. The sensors instantly told me that spiritual energy was involved. Reaching into my utility belt I dropped a spirit shield at the things feet locking her in place.

"Um, what are you doing in my kids closet?" I asked.

The spirit looked a little startled and bounced off the forcefield. "How the hell can you even see me?" the spirit demanded. "And what is this thing?!"

"Language, my sons right there," I scolded her. "I'm a superhero and I've had to deal with spirits a bit too often. Now what are you doing here?"

"Oh, well, this is awkward," the spirit replied, scratching its long stringy hair. "Most parents can't see me, and when they do they freak out, running as fast as they can to get a priest or someone. I've never actually had to talk to them beyond screaming and threatening to eat their eyeballs. I'm a fear spirit and I eat childrens fear."

"Uh huh. So you terrorize children and give them nightmares that will torment them well into adulthood?"

She gave me an offended look. "Well when you put it like that, you make me sound like a horrible monster."

I started taking the clothes out of the closet.

"What are you doing?" she asked. "If you'll just take down this magic, I'll fade away and never return."

"Not happening. Sorry, but spirits that feed on peoples terror are never good news," I said. With the clothes safely out of the way, I smiled at my son pulled a devise from my utility belt, tapped a button and handed it to the spirit, my hand easily passing through the spirit ward. "Here hold this for thirty seconds."

"What's this and why can I hold it?" the spirit asked holding the grenade up to study it closely.

"It's a special devise I created using a friends essence and some technology that shouldn't exist, I call it a spirit bomb."

"YOU SON OF A BI-"

I slammed the closet door shut just as the spirit bomb went off, making a loud hissing sound.

"YAY! You got rid of her!" Billy shouted as he jumped out of bed to give me a big hug.

"Yes I did," I replied proudly. Opening up the closet door, I groaned at the thick smoke that came out and the burnt paint. Closing it quickly I bent down to rub my sons hair. "Let's not tell Mommy about the closet, OK. I'll paint it as good as new tomorrow."

"OK Daddy, you're the greatest!"

Smiling proudly, I picked Billy up and put him in bed, taking off my helmet to give him a kiss. Some days being a hero, despite all the long hours, aches and pains, and occasional bullet wounds, was awesome.

So... yeah, fall of '61. I was still loosey-goosey after my trip to the wacky ward, and worried about how I was gonna stay dry and figure out what my next turn would be. I was a bit leery of anything too splashy, but I didn't want to see Lazlo blow all that dough just to see me back in a bottle, so I knew I needed something to do. It was a much for our friendship as anything, but I was sort at a loss about where to go.

Then I read an article in the New Yorker about something crazy: a new computer that MIT had built, a really tiny one about the size of a couple of office desks maybe, and they were letting the student use it without any kind of rules or classes or anything. The article said there were even some high school kids hanging around, and that they'd let them 'talk to the computer' late a night. It sounded weird, and even then I knew enough to see that they weren't talking to it, they were using it somehow. Writing these programs that made it run. Kids!

I'd already had the big tin brains in mind at the time, because it seemed to me like there was something big brewing with them. A lot of companies, banks and car manufacturers and even airlines, were putting a lot of money into getting them, and trying to figure out what to do with them once they had them. American Airlines had this thing called SABRE, which was supposed to make things easier to plan schedules and things like that, GM was talking about using them to help design cars. And then there was the Space Program and military - it sounded like the whole Strategic Air Command was run by one of those huge machines, and that was up at MIT as well.

But this new thing, this small transistorized computer, that looked like a way into the whole inner circle. I had a flight from Chicago to Boston booked within 48 hours of seeing that magazine piece.

Now, I've seen some weird stuff in my life, but I was not prepared for this!

I put together a set of fake credentials for a "Professor Arthur Morey" (oh, don't give me that look, no one caught on to that one) and a arranged for a guy I knew at UCLA to give me a cover as a statistician on sabbatical. I hardly need to bother, as it happened, because I was able to waltz right into the 9th floor office where they kept this "TX-0" thing with nothing more than a business card and a firm handshake.

I couldn't believe my luck! Not only was there no security at all around this thing, there were a bunch of students - I think the oldest one, Alan, wasn't even twenty - who were just falling all over themselves to help anyone who was interested in the damn thing. These guys called themselves 'hackers', which is where the word comes from, right, and they had already started to create a whole new language, a whole new way of living and acting and thinking about the world, that was just plain bizarre to anyone who wasn't on the inside. But I was able to get a grip on it, and while it never really felt natural to me, I could kinda see where they were coming from. It was almost like the Monastery, in a way, but at the same time there was, well, real lack of any kind of reflection or forethought or interest in the outside world.

I'd seen that sort of thing in some sorcerer types at times, the ones who really become engrossed in the Craft in a way even other mystics find disturbing, but I never expected to see it in the techno-Disneyland that was MIT.

I managed to learn a lot from them, and not just about computers. I could see that this sort of thing would spread, would become more than just a game for a handful of demented college kids. Even as I was walking in the door, the place was all abuzz about the next new thing - Alan had been working for a new company called Digital that summer, and they were giving an even newer and faster one of these new computers to the school that very week. At this rate, I could already see that they would be everywhere in a few years, though I had no idea just how 'everywhere' that would be.

It would be a long time before I really came to grips with what it all meant, and even now there are parts about it that I find almost eerie.

“There she is,” the Imp said in a bad Australian accent. “The female security officer. She’s a right dangerous critter, but isn’t she a beaut?”

The Imp was crouched down on the roof of the library, hidden from most people by her PK aura, which made her virtually invisible. She stared through a small pair of binoculars, keeping a close eye on her target, Sam Everhart.

A few feet away, Imp’s apprentice Melissa was crouched down as well. She was using her own powers to turn invisible and hide, which made her even more difficult to see than Imp was. However, she couldn’t remain hidden as long as her mentor, and her power faded away, leaving her visible once again.

“Crikey,” Imp exclaimed, still using the fake accent. She gave Melissa a warning look. “Back up slowly, and don’t let the little critter see you. You don’t want to spook the wildlife.”

Melissa giggled and did as Imp asked. “So, what are we going to do?”

“Not we,” Imp corrected her with a grin, dropping the accent. “Me. You

are going to stay up here and learn.” Then, in a deep and dramatic tone, Imp announced, “Watch carefully my apprentice, for I shall show you the true power of the snark side of the force.”

With that, Imp stood up and backed away, dropping the chameleon aspect of her PK aura. She made sure the items she needed were in the satchel she wore over her shoulder, then she took a running leap, channeling the energy in her PK aura to give her jump a little more ‘oomph’.

“WHEEEEEEE!” Imp cried out loudly as she flew through air, making sure that she was loud enough for Sam to hear her. After all, she wanted the cute blonde security officer to hear her coming…and to not shoot her in surprise.

Seconds later, Imp hit the ground, using her PK aura to absorb most of the impact, and rolled in order to deal with the rest. She sprang back to her feet, facing the security officer. Since she wasn’t one to waste a dramatic entrance, she quickly put on the red and white striped stovetop hat that she’d brought with her, only to remove it again in a sweeping bow.

“Imp,” Sam exclaimed.

“Do you like green eggs and ham? Do you like them Sam I am?” Imp sang out, reaching into her satchel and pulling out a handful of Easter eggs, all dyed with various shades of green, and casually tossed them out in front of Sam.

“This isn’t funny anymore,” Sam started, though the Imp continued and cut her off.

“Would you eat it with a spork?” Imp held up a plastic fork. “Would you eat it with a dork?” This time, the eccentric teacher held up a photograph of Roland Williams. “Would you eat them up a tree?” She gestured towards the nearest tree, then gave Sam a wink. “Or would you prefer to eat with me?”

Sam let out an exasperated sigh, not sure how to deal with situation. Imp wasn’t a student, and couldn’t be intimidated into behaving. In fact, Sam had been warned from even trying.

“Easter eggs,” Sam said, looking at the offerings that the Imp had left. She gave the Imp a suspicious look. “I don’t see the ham.”

“What?” Imp asked in mock offense. “You don’t think I’m a ham?”

Before Sam could decide how to respond to that, the Imp turned and ran away…throwing a cloud of green bacon bits behind her as though it was confetti.

Sam just stood there for a moment, shaking her head and wondering how many superheroes the Imp had driven insane with these antics. She was tempted to ask Carson, but feared the headmistress might just laugh at the situation, and this was embarrassing enough as it was.

"MOM!" Petshop screamed.

Her mother came running from the kitchen holding a knife, terrified that her newly manifested daughter had accidentally made a horrible monster instead of one of her cute little creatures. "What's wrong? OH MY GOD!"

She could only stare in amazement at the red, blood like ooze that dripped from the ceiling, down the walls, and covered every inch of her daughters bedroom and her daughter.

"Mr. Tomato exploded," Petshop cried. "He tastes like strawberries."

Pyre looked down at the young girl who had a thick wet mist surrounding her and her young brother. It wasn't much protection against his plasma, but it was keeping away the killing heat of the fire that surrounded them. He had to admire her bravery, there were no tears, no begging, no trying to flee and leaving her brother behind, she was afraid but she was fighting it every step of the way.

"What's your name girl?" he demanded, pushing a tendril of plasma through her watery barrier to almost caress her face.

"Angelica Gagnon," she said, too startled by the burning heat to come up with a lie.

"Well Angelica, you've saved your brother today. Congratulations." He gave a small bow and walked out of the inferno side stepping some charred bones to reach the door.

**

Ten days later
Angelica flew on a jet of water, far faster than she had ever tried before heedless of the amazed and angry soaked onlookers she left in her wake. The sky was blood red and filled with smoke, she'd seen it from her classroom and once she realized where it was centered she had jumped out the window praying she wasn't too late. As she reached her street she saw that over half the houses along the little cul de sac were engulfed in flames and firefighters were desperately trying to save the rest. Ambulances raced along the road ferrying the victims to hospitals and returning as soon as possible to get more.

She flew over the chaos, even as the heat evaporated her water and burned her skin. Falling, Angelica created a ball of water under her, using it to keep her safe, pushing her powers harder than she'd ever dared the ball of water slid to her home at the very center of the inferno.

A tall man in red clothes stepped out of the flames. Angelica wanted to scream at Pyre who was smiling as cheerfully as he had ten days ago when he'd spared her and her brother, but the protective water kept her mouth firmly shut.

The murderer happily waved at her. "I said you saved your brother. I never said anything about your parents," he shouted to be heard over the flames and through the water.

The water ball exploded in response to Angelica's rage, trying to force itself down Pyre's throat. She didn't care if she burned, she wanted to watch the man drown before her eyes.

Plasma turned the water into steam, the heat sapped away her strength. Already weakened from the mad dash from school and manifesting so much water, Angelica fell to her knees barely able to breathe, her clothes smoking and smoldering at the edges. Laughing Pyre walked away wreathed in flame.

September

"Are you sure you want to take all these classes, martial arts, light weapons, firearms safety, rifle combat, heavy weapons, it's rather combat focused," Angelica's student counselor asked.

Angelica squeezed her hands tightly, feeling the scar tissue that covered her palms and lower legs. "Yes. I need to learn how to fight," she said.

Sighing, the counselor looked over the list again, with the other classes it was just barely acceptable if hardly balanced. After spending a whole hour arguing over each choice, she saw there was little chance of making any changes now. "Very well, here is your class schedule. If you want to make any changes after classes begin come back here and I'll be happy to help."

This started as a Bad Idea, and then grew. Names have been left out to protect the guilty parties, even if they didn't feel guilty at all.

---

Hazing the FNG

As most folks know, reveille watches can be the worst of all. Dull. Dark. Bored watchstanders getting froggy ...
---
"Awww. Looks like our #1 Ultraviowent wore himself out 'finding his wolf'. So cyute!"

"You know he's still going to sneak back in before Filbert notices he was ever outside."

"Speaking of losing track of time, did Jensen forget to sign out or what?"

"Said he had to take care of, quote-unquote 'personal business' over at the nuthouse, but he'd keep the channel open."

"Hang on there. Check the next nearest camera with overlap. Is that what I think it is, sneaking around near Hodges?"

"Ayep. Too bad Johnson's so far away. I'd pay money to see him downwind of that."

"What's Jensen's callsign today?"

"Shortstop. He hates it."

"Too bad. Shortstop, Dispatch. You copy, over?"

"... Shortstop. Read you 5x5, something up? Over."

"That's what she said." "Shhh!"

"Roger, Shortstop. We've got a couple of IR paints near sensor Forty-two Lima Uniform Echo. One stationary, low to the ground, matches a student ID tag, the other rapidly approaching that position. Are you in position to check that out? Over."

"Dispatch, Shortstop. Copy two IR targets near Forty-two Lima Uniform Echo. Will investigate. Shortstop out."

"Rapidly?"

"For a skunk that's fast!"

Projecting would be the fastest way to scope things out, without waking a comatose friend back up after finally talking him down from a nightmare. My, look how ... long past clock-out. Oops.

Sure enough, someone was curled up at the base of a tree, right in front of a security camera. What. A Dick. From the astral side of things Metro could see a second, werewolfy, impression on the astral. The only other moving life force was much smaller. So we're sending the newbie on a snipe hunt? Let's take a look before it snuggles up to wolf-boy.

There was just enough time to get a close look at the long-tailed "snipe" for our hapless patrol to realize that manifesting between a skunk and, well, anything was a bad idea. Between an upset skunk and a badly-spooked werewolf? That was a Very Bad Idea.

"Dispatch. Shortstop. 10-23, You [Something untranslateable, probably involving biologically-improbable acts, including imitating a piñata in violation of International Laws and Good Taste] Shortstop going 10-42. Out."

"I guess he got a good look at it! Well, if it were dangerous, he'd have called that in, right? Oh, hey, Sarge!"

"If you're all that bored, you can stick around for the first round of the morning's uvie check-ins. Give the incoming shift a break. Oh! I almost forgot: I just left word with Mr. Filbert that Bloodwolf and crew need to check in here, in person, first thing today. Everyone cool with that? Shake your heads 'yes', boys."

In the canon stories, the mental health support staff never seem to have a bad day themselves. Then again, I'd give someone like Tennyo, Fey, or even a mildly-impoverished Goodkind priority access, myself. Lest anyone think the OC gets away scot- and skunk- free:

---

We No Longer Care If You Have A Nice Day

"Good morning. Mr. Jensen? This is Natalie, with the Counseling Office, yes. Sleep well this morning? Good. Glad to hear that. Really, really.

I've just received a pass for your morning classes.

Well, you see, if we have to provide counselling in a closed and warded office to Mr. Hodges regarding this morning's unholy demonic attack from the foulest pits of Hell, it's going to be a 'group therapy'. Did you know his werewolf spirit recognized you in the area around the time of the attack?

'Oh', indeed.

It gets better. Some kind soul suggested that this Thing only looked like a normal animal on the material plane, and that you must have scared it away before it could destroy anyone's soul. No, if I knew who it was, they'd be receiving an Academy Award for saying something that stupidly insane, to a howling werewolf, with a straight face.

No, the camera feeds only show some flickering before the Entity exploded into chunky salsa and other spray. Nice try.

Wait. Did you just claim innocence on the grounds that you were busy at the time watching out for the safety of your best friend and other Poe Cottage residents? That's almost amusing. Why? Because Mrs. Horton and Dr. Bellows are currently busy themselves, trying to calm a hysterical Danny Franks down from what he thought he saw the two of you up to when he came down the stairs this morning, without going into age-inappropriate details about what the two of you were not up to.

'Oh dear' is right. I'll bet the call light now flashing is from Dr. Tenent, who had been assured (at one time) that her patient would be responsibly getting sufficient sleep each night and NOT staying awake to keep summoned spirits on safety patrols, scaring skunks and werewolves from the astral plane, and whatever the hell else you've been up to to make our jobs more difficult.

Hold on, one moment.

My bad. That was Mrs. Carson.

Mr. Jensen, God Himself and all of Satan's lawyers cannot get you out of this request for your presence. See you soon."

“What I would like to know,” Lieutenant Forsyth said, “is how she got through the building, past all of the security personnel, and then both in and out of your locked office, without anyone noticing. Frankly, it’s embarrassing. We’re campus security, and if we can’t keep a single teacher from breaking into our own offices…”

Sam Everhart gave him a wry smile and pointed out, “There’s a good reason why Delarose wanted the Imp as a security consultant.”

“True,” Forsyth agreed with a sigh. “But that doesn’t make it any less embarrassing for campus security as a whole.” Then, he gave Sam a curious look. “But speaking of the chief… What did Delarose say about your little Imp problem?”

“That I am the one who set off the Imp,” Sam answered with a scowl, “so I’m the one who has to disarm her.” She paused at that, then admitted, “But honestly, I think he and Carson have a wager over how this gets resolved.”

Forsyth chuckled at that, before reluctantly admitting, “The office pool is on how long it lasts. I’m down for three more days.”

Sam gave Forsyth a wry look. “Maybe I should put some money on this myself.” She shook her head faintly and let out a sigh. “The problem is, how do I stop the Imp without escalating the situation? I’m afraid that just about anything I do will be taken as a challenge, and only make this game of hers more interesting. My best option at the moment, is to be patient and simply wait her out.”

“She’ll probably get bored of this game soon enough,” Forsyth agreed with an amused look. Then with a chuckle, he added, “Hopefully, in three more days.”

“Last night,” Sam said with a grimace, “I went back to my quarters and found the Imp had been there too. She left an MRE on my bed. Omelet and ham of course, and the whole outside was spray painted green. And then this morning, she left another plate of inedible food on my desk.”

“You have to admire her persistence,” Forsyth mused. However, at Sam’s flat look, he added, “Or not.”

Seconds later, the door opened and someone stepped into the room. Sam tensed for a moment, expecting another encounter with the Imp, until she saw that it was just a student. The girl was dressed in a pizza delivery outfit and had a pizza box in her hand. However, as soon as Sam recognized the girl as Melissa Chambers, that moment of relief was over.

Melissa just smiled cheerfully. “I have a pizza for Ms. Everhart…”

“That’s Admiral Everhart,” Forsyth corrected the girl.

“Admiral?” Melissa asked with a look of confusion. “But there aren’t any boats around here…”

Sam refrained from rolling her eyes…barely. “So, the Imp sent you this time.” The girl looked self-conscious as she shrugged in response.

Forsyth took the pizza box and opened it. He chuckled a little as he said, “Sausage and Canadian bacon, with a couple eggs on top. And the whole thing is smothered with pesto. It actually looks pretty good.”

“Would you eat it in a box?” Melissa asked, reading from a notecard in her hand. “Would you eat it with a fox?” That brought their attention to the picture of a fox, which was taped to the inside lid of the pizza box.

“What did Imp…?” Sam started to ask, only to realize that the girl was already gone.

“At least this time, we get free food from it,” Forsyth commented as he pulled out a slice of pizza, then called out, “Help yourselves.”

With that, the other security personnel who were gathering nearby, all rushed to the pizza before it was gone.

Rachael cried in her room. The town hated her, they'd probably try to kill her for what she was. She watched the lights rise from her hand, dancing in the twilight, so beautiful to watch, she couldn't understand why people would hate her for it.

She listened to her parents in the next room packing their bags. They had told her they were going to leave for a while, her own suitcase was packed and ready to go, but she was leaving so much behind, so many memories and personal things. She began crying harder.

The door opened and her twin brother slipped in. They were almost identical at twelve years old, same height, same features, her hair was longer and she had small breasts where he was obviously flat chested, but other than that they could be mirror images. Through the tears she saw that his hair was longer, almost as long as hers and done up in a ponytail, she rubbed her eyes in disbelief but the image didn't go away.

"Mitch, what happened to your hair?" she asked.

"No time, H1 is getting ready to attack, the roads are already blocked off," he said, walking to her closet.

She watched, uncomprehending as he took out a baggy track suit that she only used when they went camping. Unashamed, he took off his clothes and threw the pants on. Going to her dresser he got a sports bra and some socks, taking a deep breath he put the bra on and stuffed it with the socks. It looked terrible, but once the sweatshirt was put on he looked like he had breasts.

"Mitch, what the hell are you doing?!" she demanded, finding her voice.

"They're not going to let you get away, they'll kill you and anyone who is with you," he said. "If they come after me you and Mom and Dad can get away."

"No," she sobbed. "You can't."

"I'm a lot faster than you are, and I know a lot more hiding places. Rob is going to call the sheriff and say he saw you running north towards the woods, They'll see me there and everyone will head over there. Then you guys can get away," Mitch said, his voice quivered a little with fear and he was almost hyperventilating, but his eyes were hard.

"Mom and Dad won't leave without you."

"Yes they will," he said, pulling his phone out of his discarded clothes.

He hit speed dial and Rachael heard her Dad's phone ring.

"Dad," Mitch snarled, "what the hell are you doing keeping that gene traitor in the house?!"

She heard their father start yelling, saying that it was his sister.

"She's a freak. I'm not coming home until she's gone or dead!" Mitch said, his voice so harsh, Rachael stepped back in fear.

As the shouting in the next room got louder, Mitch hung up. "Get them to leave in twenty minutes. You should have an hour to get as far from here as possible." He hugged her tightly. "Tell them that I'm sorry for that, but it was the only way to get you guys to safety."

"Mitch, please, there has to be another way," Rachael said.

"Please," he whispered, barely audible over his parents arguing, "don't waste this. Get somewhere safe and live a long and happy life."

With a last squeeze, he hopped out the window. She watched him jump the fence, his fake hair flowing behind him and start running into the night.

"I will Mitch," she whispered to the wind.

Sam Everhart walked through Arena 99, where she was scheduled to help design a new training sim. However, when she arrived at her destination, she found that Gunny Bardue was already there, and that he had a deep scowl on his face. That in itself was not uncommon, but this time seemed a little worse than usual.

“Problem?” Sam asked.

Gunny nodded in greeting, then answered in a single word. “Wondercute.”

“What did they do this time?” Sam asked. If Wondercute was involved, there was no telling what they’d done to cause this reaction.

“The usual,” Gunny answered, rubbing at his temples to chase away the forming headache. “I put them through a training sim, with a specific tactical lesson that I was trying to drive into their thick heads. But those lunatics ignored every rule of common sense, and somehow managed to finish the sim, while completely bypassing the lesson…and the primary purpose of this sim…entirely.”

“They do tend to think outside the box,” Sam offered, giving Gunny her silent sympathies.

“Think outside the box?” Gunny grumbled. “Those girls are so far outside the box, they don’t even seem to realize that there is one. And THAT is the problem.”

Sam nodded at that, feeling faintly amused by the Wondercute problem, but trying not to show it. “This school is full of lunatics, and not just among the students.”

Gunny barked out a short laugh. “I heard about the trouble you’ve been having with the new art teacher. In fact, I’ve got twenty bucks riding on the outcome.”

“I’m pleased to provide you betting opportunities,” Sam said, giving Gunny a flat look. “If I could only find a way to distract the Imp long enough to make her forget about…” Then Sam paused as an idea came to mind. A moment later, she began to chuckle.

“What?” Gunny asked, giving her a suspicious look.

“I think I know how to solve both our problems at once,” Sam explained with a smile. “At least for a little while…”

“What do you have in mind?” Gunny asked, sounding doubtful.

“I think it’s about time we fight fire with fire,” Sam answered with a chuckle. “Or fight crazy with crazy. What do you think about giving Wondercute a taste of their own medicine?”

Rachael's mother clutched her cheek which was a brilliant red, staring in shock at her daughter.

"Mom, we have to go now!" Rachael said shaking her stinging hand and trying to work some feeling back into her fingers. Grabbing her mothers arm she dragged her towards the door.

"But what about Mitch?" her mother demanded.

Her voice caught in her throat for a moment. "You heard him, he can look after himself. Come on!"

Her father put Mitch's favourite baseball cap on her head, covering her short hair. She had taken five minutes to cut her long locks before leaving her room one last time. His jacket covered her bound breasts, helping create the illusion that she was her brother. As her father put the suitcases in the car, she slowly dragged her mother out the door.

Slipping into the back seat she slide down praying that she wouldn't be seen.

A truck across the street made her jump as it roared to life and headed down the street, heading north. She bit back a cry, knowing that her brother had to have been seen. Her fingers tingled and began to glow, she sat on them, killing the light.

They headed south leaving their life behind. And more importantly leaving Mitch behind to take her fate if he couldn't get away.

More cars sped past, all of them heading north. Rolling down the window Rachael bit her tongue hard enough to bleed to keep from crying. A shot rang out just at the edge of her hearing.

"Mitch," she whispered, "run faster."

She couldn't risk the tears that threatened to fall. If her parents knew what her brother was doing they'd go and try to rescue him.

Her heart died as she rolled the window up.

Music played in the background, and the fabulous Imp danced to it, her tail swaying back and forth to the beat as she worked. Most of her attention was focused on the painting and easel that were set up in front of her, but the rest of it lingered on her next prank.

The Imp grinned evilly as she considered what she had planned next for Sam Everhart, but unfortunately, she couldn’t make any progress with that until Melissa returned with the rest of the supplies. So until then, she would have to kill a little time, and what better way to do that than with a little painting.

Just then, Melissa burst into Imp’s classroom, exclaiming, “I got it.” She grinned triumphantly at Imp.

“Good job,” Imp told her, with a grin of her own and a swish of her tail. “Now we can get to work…”

Imp carefully picked up a bucket, which had been useless until Melissa returned, and prepared to make a mess. However, before she could do anything, her cell phone began to ring.

“Hello,” Imp answered the phone, annoyed at the interruption, though it didn’t reach her voice. “Imp’s Road Kill Café. You kill it, we grill it.”

“This is Gunny Bardue,” a gruff voice said from the other end. “How would you like to have some fun?”

Imp grinned, twitching her tail back and forth. “I like fun.” Then, as Gunny explained what he wanted, her grin deepened.

Once Imp hung up, she turned and looked at Melissa, who was struggling to hold onto the small pig that she’d just brought into the classroom. Then, Imp’s eyes moved down to the bucket of green dye beside her, and the container of grease.

“Go ahead and take that pig back where you got it,” Imp told her startled apprentice. “It looks like this prank is going to have to wait a little longer.” Then, she began to gleefully rub her hands together, and with an almost evil grin, explained, “I’ve got a new project to work on.”

"Hey Teri how was your trip to Disneyland?"

"It was terrible! They wouldn't let me in, saying something about how I violated their no costume policy. It's discrimination! I look like this naturally, I wasn't trying to look exactly like Tinkerbell!"

"OK, OK, calm down. But if you weren't trying to look like Tinkerbell, why did you cut your hair short and dye it blonde?"

"I wanted to try something different. It's not like they own this haircut!"

"And the green dress?"

"It was a gift from Mouser, I'm suppose to turn it down because it happens to resemble a certain celebrity?"

"And the green shoes with white fluffy balls?"

"They're cute!"

And getting an illusion making your wings look like dragonfly wings?"

"WHOSE SIDE ARE YOU ON!!!!"

From the Bad Idea Thread

Astrodragon wrote: Tink could reproduce by fission.
You know, feed her too much sugar and she splits into two Tinks.

What could possibly go wrong?

Fall, 2008

"Check it out I made a cloning devise, you just have to step inside and a second later your clone comes out the other side."

"Isn't that dangerous?"

"What could go wrong?"

Suddenly a purple streak flew into the lab followed by a number of auxiliary security members. The laughing streak headed straight for the devise and suddenly stopped.

"OOOOOOHHHHHHHH PRETTY COLOURS!" Teri said.

"Oh God! Get her away from the cloning devise!" the student screamed.

"HEY TERI!" the purple fairy shouted looking at herself.

"HEY TERI!" she shouted back.

"COOL! LETS DO THAT AGAIN!" they shouted in stereo.

Before anyone could stop them they flew back into the devise together. Two seconds later the four fairies flew into it. Two seconds after that 8 fairies, 16 fairies, 32 fairies, 64 fairies...

Fall 2020

The last city in the world was a quiet place of dark colours, full of somber citizens. All around the city speakers played sad music 24 hours a day. The walls were covered in pictures of crying babies, hurt puppies and dying characters from cute tv shows. A dome forcefield protected it from the air.

No one left the city except with the strongest magical and technological protection. For just out of earshot of the sad music, where they couldn't see the sad pictures, waited an earth spanning cloud of purple fairies who just wanted to play and have fun.

Thus the world ended, not with a bang, not with a whimper, but with a little girlish giggle.

Tia walked up to the table, then stopped in horror at the sight of the creation atop Morgana's plate.

The red-head was finishing what could only be described as a creation with the delicate precision more usually associated with watchmaking. Tia looked down at the pieces of lettuce decorating her own plate, then back at the tower Morgana was just completing.

"WHAT is THAT??" The bunny-girls tone was full of the morbid fascination of someone finding that the chef's had decided to experiment with roadkill fritters.

Morgana looked up with a cheerful smile. "Oh, this? Uh...its pancake, slices of bacon. pancake, ham, pancake, sausages, and finally pancake."

Tia just gazed on it as Morgana finally topped the butter oozing down the sides like some sort of primordial lava with a thick layer of maple syrup."

Bianca was starting at the mound, her own breakfast temporarily forgotten. . "Are you going to eat that?"

Morgana started to nod, then froze. "Oh...no, wait, I forgot something!."

While the rest of the team looked on, she took a single strawberry from the side of her plate, sliced it expertly in two, and very carefully placed the half on the syrup pooled on the top pancake.

"There! Have to have some fruit, fruit's healthy for breakfast!"

I really don't want to do this, Rich thought as he steeled himself for what he knew he had to do. With no less than three ragers in the scrum - from where he stood, he could see Bloodwolf, Razorback, and a suspiciously well-armed Koala - not only rampaging across campus, but actively being provoked by the likes of Gore and Systemic, and a ring of other UVs holding both Security and the Wild Pack at bay, he was literally the only one on the scene who could stop it. The fact that it meant doing something he'd come to hate, come to regret even before the Foreigner had come, didn't change that fact.

With a deep breath, he turned around the corner he had been standing behind, and sheathed himself in a blinding light.

Light mixed with as much divine Glamour as he could muster, that same Glamour he normally did all he could to suppress. Had his power not been so diminished since taking mortal form, those around him would have been immolated; as it was, it stopped all about him cold, staring in awe at him.

"Stop what you are doing and lay down your weapons." he boomed out in a voice that few mortals could hope to resist.

His face was etched with pain as he did it, but he had resigned himself to the consequences. All that really mattered right now was that Systemic's sick idea of a 'senior prank' had been thwarted.

Summer 2021, A Lone City on a Nebraska Plain

The situation had almost, but not yet, deteriorated to the point of allowing surviving members Whateley Class of '11 to return to Earth for a reunion. Technically speaking, most of them were just outside the dome already. Unfortunately, those set by the City's inhabitants to guard against such incursions were expecting someone taller.

"Check this out! From the outside, it's an exact duplicate of the original Tinkerator Devise. All I need is to attach it to the outer perimeter so that the entrance breaches the forcefield."

"Why would you do that?" seemed to be a common theme for all present.

The young man presenting the mysterious contraption had an answer for that. "Maybe because the Fairy Horde has leached so much essence from the manasphere that R'lyeh has finally fallen, so it seemed a good time for it?"

"Mads, I think they're still not seeing the connection," his dark companion noted.

"... right. So this is a prototype of a device that should help fix your little overcrowding problem. If today's test goes well, I'll be able to scale up. After that ... Where'd everybody go?" The inventor looked around in confusion before resigning himself to a limited audience for the test run.

Hours later:

A nearly-tentacular mass of feeds and taps writhed, power drawn in surges and trickles, as decreed by diagrams liberated from arcane formularies.

The force penetrator clamped the mouth of the device to the outer wall. Its foul joinery was sealed with rheoplastic fluids that dripped into the dead ground from hidden crannies where they'd been applied in excess.

From the interior shone a lurid panoply of lights and scenes projected out amidst the wastelands. They mounted into a sordid mockery of a once-familiar world long dead, beckoning to all who dared step inside to sample its promised temptations.

The seemingly-youthful men waited for the noctilucent spectres to further contrast the Unseen against the Known.

First one, then another, brightly-colored apparition approached. They listened. They conferred. They heard a faint, low melody seeping from inside the curious box. Chemical smells tainted with raw dyestuffs and empty calories wafted from within: backoning to long-forgotten hungers. From the entrance, they could spy a lasciviously gaudy "tunnel". These first scouts called out to more of their kind before finally entering. Some arrived by air, others hopscotched, one had managed to find a pogo stick ... somewhere.

Soon, too soon for the newly-damned, a low series of vibrations emanated from the base of the machine. An assortment of vile powers and fluids began to collect in tinned containers and carefully sealed bottles, only for some unknowable portion to be cycled back into the alchemechanical monstrosity. All through this time, seemingly keeping pace with the pixies' entrance, came the "tink, tink, tink" of metal filings being collected, dram by dram.

"Turns out you were right after all! Piping Barry White in to the 'Tunnel of Love' works much better than anything else I had on hand."

"I've seen, and heard, your gPod playlist before, remember?"

"At this rate, we'll make a killing on the bloodsilver collection alone. Any ideas for which world to drop off the cloning chamber next? Once we find it."

"Let's avoid those in which we've run the "troll sausage" dodge. We keep running into Total Ecological Collapse Syndrome before entropy removes all the bio-available carbon from the system."

---

Fall 2007, Whitman Cottage, Whateley Academy

Teri's screams easily overpowered the track that had been looping from her laptop from the time she fell asleep.

"Welcome to Nuka-World, America's Favorite Vacation Destination!
... and we're here to make sure you have F-U-N-Fun during your time at the park!"

The members of Wondercute were all dressed in their fuku style battle uniforms, when they suddenly found themselves in their new surroundings. During their briefing, Gunny Bardue had only told them that their mission for this sim, was simply to capture a supervillain. He hadn’t told them anything more than that.

“Where are we?” Aquerna asked as she looked around.

They appeared to be standing in the middle of a park, with bright green grass, flowers, and bushes. Trees were scattered about, as were a number of large boulders. And then, in the near distance, they could see a cluster of buildings, in what appeared to be a town.

“Look,” Dragonrider said, pointing to one of the bushes, which was moving.

A moment later, an animal emerged from the bushes, though it was like no animal they’d ever seen in a zoo. It appeared to be some type of mouse, except that it was the size of a large cat, and its fur was bright yellow. The creature sniffed the air, then cautiously came towards the girls.

“Ohmygod,” Bugs exclaimed in stunned disbelief. “Is that…?”

“He’s so KEWT!” Generator blurted out with growing excitement.

Suddenly, a loud voice yelled out, “PREPARE FOR TROUBLE, AND MAKE IT FAST!”

The girls immediately turned to stare at the speaker, a woman who stood on top of a large boulder. She had black horns, a devil tail, and tiny scales around the upper part of her face. Most of them recognized her as the new art teacher, the Imp. However, the Imp was wearing a large white shirt, with a big red letter ‘R’ on the front.

Another figure stood up beside the Imp, a boy their own age. He looked something like a monkey, with brown fur over his body, and a long monkey tail. The freshman boy named Monkeywrench, also wore a white shirt with a red letter ‘R’.

“Oh man,” Monkeywrench announced. “This is gonna be a blast.”

Superchick’s eyes went wide, as she exclaimed, “It’s Team Rocket.”

“TO PROTECT THE WORLD FROM DEVASTATION,” the Imp announced as she struck a dramatic pose.

“TO UNITE ALL PEOPLE WITHIN OUR NATION,” Monkeywrench continued immediately after, trying to make a dramatic pose as well, though not as successfully.

“TO DENOUNCE THE EVILS OF TRUTH AND LOVE,” Imp took over again.

Monkeywrench grinned. “TO EXTEND OUR REACH TO THE STARS ABOVE.”

“IMP!”

“MONKEYWRENCH!”

“WE’RE BLASTING OFF AT THE SPEED OF LIGHT!”

“SURRENDER NOW OR PREPARE TO FIGHT!”

Suddenly, a third person appeared on the boulder, a freshman girl whom they all recognized as Mischief. However, instead of wearing the Team Rocket shirts like Imp and Monkeywrench were, she wore a headband with fake cat ears. And with a mischievious grin, she exclaimed, “MEOWTH. That’s right!”

“That’s our mission,” Generator announced with an eager grin. “We have to save the Pokemon from Team Rocket…”

“But isn’t this copyrighted or something,” Gateway asked.

“Who cares,” Bugs told her, grinning broadly as she reached for the giant yellow mouse. “I’ll protect you…”

“Pika,” the yellow mouse started to say, which was immediately followed by a loud *ZAP*.

“BUNNY,” Superchick cried out as the other girl collapsed to the ground, still twitching.

The giant yellow mouse still had sparks of electricity crackling around its body and firmly exclaimed, “Pika Pii.”

“Bwa ha ha ha,” the Imp laughed, before exclaiming, “RELEASE THE KRAKEN!”

“Gotcha boss,” Mischief said as she held up a whistle and blew on it.

A shrill note filled the air, and then suddenly, all the bushes nearby began to move. More of the giant yellow mice began to emerge from the bushes, from behind the trees, and from around the rocks. In moments, hundreds of these creatures had appeared.

“PIKA!” the creatures all cried out as one, while sparks of electricity shot across the field.

“Oh, poo,” Generator exclaimed as a massive swarm of beloved cartoon mascots charged straight at them.

"It’s only one teacher and two freshmen,” Superchck announced. “We can beat them, no problem…”

The surviving members of Wondercute looked back and forth at each other, noticing that all of them had charred and torn uniforms. They’d barely escaped that field of cute and furry electrocution, though not all of them had been that lucky. Bunny had been lost, buried beneath the massive flood of Pokemon.

“We were freshmen last year,” Gateway pointed out, looking just a little concerned.

“Yeah,” Generator agreed with a grin. “But these ones don’t have any training or experience. It’s actually the teacher I’m worried about.”

Aquerna nodded at that, and in a conspiratorial tone, said, “You know, she’s a supervillain. Not just a pretend one for the sims, but for REAL.”

During the chaos of that last battle, all of them had been so distracted, that they hadn’t paid enough attention to the Imp or her assistants. By the time any of them thought to look, Team Rocket had slipped away. Now, they had to track down their opponents, while keeping an eye out for another Pokemon ambush.

Suddenly, Superchick, who was floating overhead, announced, “I see her. I see the Imp.”

The girls snuck closer and saw that the Imp was standing on top of a small house, all by herself. She was no longer wearing the Team Rocket shirt, but instead, was wearing a black and red leather catsuit. However, she also had on a long, black, and dramatic looking cape, with a high collar, which seemed appropriate for an evil villain. And then, in her hand she held a pitchfork. This wasn’t the kind of pitchfork used to move hay, but the kind that belonged to the devil.

“Superchick. Aquerna,” Generator said, looking at the other girls. “You two sneak around and try to get her from the back.”

“And keep an eye out for Mischief and Monkeywrench,” Gateway added.

As the girls began to approach, the Imp let out a maniacal, “Bwa ha ha ha!” She turned to look at the main group of girls with an evil grin, announcing, “My evil plan is working perfectly. Soon, I shall be the undisputed Imp-ress of the world…”

“You’ll never get away with it,” Superchick exclaimed as she got caught up in the moment.

“Hey, I’m talkin here,” the Imp exclaimed in an exaggerated Brooklyn accent. Then, dropping the accent, she continued, “Don’t interrupt my monologue. Do you know how rare it is that I get to do one of these?”

“GET HER,” Generator called out.

Dragonrider had been getting into position, and the moment the command was given, she swooped down from the air, riding on the back of her dragon, Pern. However, right before she reached the Imp, the teacher vanished in a puff of smoke.

“You won’t catch me that easily,” the Imp’s voice called out, though no one could see the source. “It’s Imp-possible…”

An instant later, Mischief suddenly appeared between Generator and Gateway. “Sorry about this,” she said with a giggle, as she held out her hands and revealed that each clutched a grenade…which she dropped before vanishing again. Generator and Gateway dove to the side, but there were no explosions.

While they were distracted by Mischief and her grenades, Monkeywrench appeared atop a nearby cottage. Like the Imp, he was no longer wearing a Team Rocket uniform. Instead, he wore a loud Hawaiian shirt, with a bandolier full of bananas slung across his chest.

“Bananagram,” Monkeywrench called out, right before throwing a couple of his bananas at them.

The bananas exploded in mid-air, creating a spray of banana scented liquid which fell to the ground. Aquerna tried running towards Monkeywrench, but as soon as her foot connected with the liquid from the exploding bananas, it slipped out from beneath her and she fell onto her face. A moment later, the grenades that Mischief had dropped, finally exploded into thick clouds of smoke that made it difficult to see.

“Smoke bombs,” Gateway exclaimed, then began gagging at the growing smell and holding her nose. “Stink bombs.”

“Who let Miasma in here?” Aquerna demanded as she struggled to back away from the stench, though she had a hard time getting to her feet because the ground beneath her was far too slippery.

Generator gagged and fought to keep from emptying her stomach. “Kitty Compact,” she started to say as she pulled a compact, before going into a fit of coughing.

“Bwa ha ha ha,” the Imp exclaimed, having appeared on top of another building. She looked over the scattered and distracted Wondercute with an evil grin on her face, before commanding, “Pull the lever, Kronk!”

Mischief giggled and called out with an Igor impression, “Yes, master…” And with that, she pulled on a large lever, which stuck out of the side of a building, for no apparent reason.

“Wrong lever, Kronk,” Imp said with a laugh.

Suddenly, all the houses around them began to shake and crack, with the walls and roofs splitting open and falling away, revealing the robots that had been hidden within. In mere moments, the robots had torn themselves free, revealing the large white and pink metal bodies to the stunned girls.

“No,” Generator gasped, her eyes going wide in shock and betrayal, as she recognized the Hello Kitty robots that she herself had once designed for the sims. Then, as one of the totally cute robots pointed its weapon at her, she exclaimed, “That’s not fair…”

Sharing out the extra-to the-curricular pain.

---

Wednesday, September 5, 2007, lunch
Crystal Hall, Whateley Academy

Even with an extended orientation period, the assembled first floor occupants of the school's over-the-top cafeteria could be a jaw-dropping spectacle. Aside from the relatively normal-looking students among the Underdogs, Nerd Herd, and other social groups used to being pushed to the fringes, there was also the full range of mild- to- moderately- "unusual" students sitting together for mutual support or with friends who weren't so impressed with the self-impressed on the second or top floors. The only real drawbacks were the noisy, jostling traffic to and from the meal lines, or the proximity to some of the bullies and losers also exiled to the ground floor.

Only three days in, and some wag had added a placard:

Things Which Metro Is No Longer Allowed To Do:

1. Sit under the big exhaust fans in the Crystal Hall.
2. This causes Nate (Miasma -- "You'll know him when you meet him" ^{If they serve chili, you can't miss him!}) to avoid that table.
3. The rest of us have to breathe air too, you know.

At one of the mixed-menagerie tables, Thomas 'Valravn' Jensen stopped eating for a moment, swallowed, and then chuckled liked he'd just remembered something amazingly inept or suicidal that Mads had done, "So, it looks like you missed a trip down old 'Memory Lane' earlier."

The boy across from him looked up from some notes he was going over. He was back on a semi-liquid diet, so it's not like he'd been needing utensils. "Oh? When was this?" To be honest, Mads 'Metro' Jensen would have preferred to be a complete stranger to quite a few of his own memories. Unfortunately, some things just can't be "processed" with 9mm ammunition.

"Earlier, I had to swing back to Poe to grab my homework and who walked in but Loophole? Eh, she's one of the TAs for the girls wing, Gearhead, Alpha, you get the picture, " he added for their friends' sake. "Abso-frickin-lutely reeking, like she'd spent a few days camping ... with this guy, actually," he finished, maturely sticking a tongue out.

It was a testament to the time they'd spent hanging out that Thomas caught the puzzled and slightly scandalized look on his ex-roommate's face. "Do you mean to tell us that a girl, or rather a lovely woman along the classically shapely lines of Loophole, would have ever, em, 'camped out' with Metro here? Whenever would this have been?" drawled the much larger, heavily-GSD "boy". His size and baritone voice was such that one would never have guessed that he wasn't the oldest at the table.

Mads jerked his chin up and mimed straightening his tie, "What, you doubt that eligible women would have reason to spend time with me?"

The boy sitting next to him, owning a static-shocked hair style and maneuvering his food around a mad devisor's impression of a mobile Faraday cage said, "We doubt an eligible anyone would. Present company excluded, Val."

Thomas nodded, then struck back with, "Mads, you spent more time sulking and wishing Yoyo were dead than anything else I could name."

"You didn't like the useless slitch either! Only person I've ever met that was stupid enough to suggest boosting cars in a war zone." was the growled rejoinder. "What about Jade?"

"She only slept with Proxie, and dealt with you more as a contractor. I wouldn't call that 'eligible'."

"Or Yuki? Completely professional, as needed."

"Professional? Er, right. You her type? Hells to the no."

"A LOT of work went into making that establishment a class operation. I mean. um. What about ... wait. Guys? Why is everyone moving away? I DID shower today," he turned back to his friend and waggled his eyebrows, "and I'm assuming so did Loophole?" Back to a safer subject.

Maybe, Mads thought, he shouldn't sit with the UV brassard pointing towards other people at the table. Wrong impressions, y'know.

"Oh, yes. Apparently, Mrs. Carson took Pejuta and Loophole on a field trip. Camping gear and all," explained Thomas, with a "I know something you don't know" smirk. "You really should see if she'd tell you where."

The other boy thought about and piped up, "Maybe I will!"

---

After the milliseconds needed for the BMA senseis to realize that Metro was still seeing three people to the two of them, there was plenty of open time before Mads needed to officially have his head examined. A Dr. Bellows was the designated sacrificial goat for the week. So the boy headed over to Schuster Hall, not too far from Doyle, to get Officially Told where he could stick his curiosity.

"Liz, there's a student here who says he has a short, but possibly delicate question to ask, if you have a minute for it?"

Headmistress Carson knew Elaine Claire well enough to smell a set-up a mile away. Even more suspicious was a lack of timely intervention by her own Assistant. It was a little early in the year for "Were you really Superhero X, what a looker she was!" or "Sorry I mistook you for Superheroine Y, whatever happened to her?" or "I have a crush on [ teacher, student, random object or eldritch abomination (last year had been sooo special)]", so she took a moment to compose herself. "Send them in." This had better be good.

She was not expecting the politely smiling face of one of the freshmen at the very top of her personal "shit list".

"Mr. Jensen. What a ... surprise. Please, DO sit down." She indicated one of the interrogation chairs directly in front of her desk.

"Thank you, ma'am. Could you tell me where your morning class on extradimensional entities was convened, assuming that's not confidential?" Before the Headmistress of his frickin' School could answer with a lightning strike at his head, he added, "The reason I ask is that a friend of mine suggested that he'd gotten a downwind impression that I would be very familiar with the location."

That was not the question Elizabeth Carson was expecting, even with prior hints and warnings from her staff.

"Yes, it is a confidential location, and as you are not one of my students for that class I do have NO obligation to answer that question, Major Gunnison." She smiled, Check "But I do believe that you are familiar with a certain Training Zone Charlie, and I do hope that you would trust me to have made the appropriate arrangements for its use." and Mate.

"Charlie. Right. But I was told they were instructed to pack for a field outing?"

Confusion. That's an interesting reaction.

"That is correct."

"But it's a basic survival range. We'd just drag prospects ... out of class." Ah. The light dawns. "You never told them that you had atropine injectors on hand, or medevac on stand-by." Seeing the smile and the slow, amused head-shake, one could tell that The Headmistress is quite capable of being a cast-iron bitch when need be. "Or that they were eating the wrong stock." Ouch. Got it.

She finished for him. "Well. I'm glad we had this little talk, but we both have further appointments today. In addition, I'll see you tomorrow in class as a guest reviewer for Ms Nalley's and Ms Franks' debrief papers."

"Yes, ma'am." I. am. a dead man.

Gunny Bardue and Sam Everhart stood off to the side, watching as the dejected members of Wondercute climbed out of their sim pods and began making their way towards the debriefing room.

“You know,” Gunny commented with a faint chuckle. “I almost feel sorry for them.”

“Almost,” Sam said, nodding in agreement. The truth was, after dealing with the Imp herself, she really could sympathize with those girls. “They never knew what hit them.”

“That wasn’t fair,” Generator whined. “She shouldn’t be able to use our own stuff against us…”

“I can’t believe she got you with Hello Kitty,” Gateway told the other girl. Then she shuddered visibly. “And marshmallow fluff… I know it was just a sim, but I still feel like I have to go wash it off me…extra hard. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to eat marshmallows again.”

“Well, I am NEVER playing Candyland again,” Dragonrider announced. “I drowned in chocolate quicksand…while Oompa Loompas sang about it.”

“Mischief does make a cute Oompa Loompa,” Superchick pointed out with a giggle.

Aquerna just grumbled, “Unicorns are supposed to be nice.”

Once Wondercute had gathered in the debriefing room and had settled into their seats, Gunny put on his game face. As satisfying as it might have been to watch that particular sim, there were still some valuable lessons the girls could take away from it. And it was his duty, and in this case, his pleasure, to make sure those lessons stuck.

Just as Gunny opened his mouth, the room was suddenly filled with music. “I’m a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world,” the female voice sang. “Life in plastic. It’s fantastic.”

All the girls stared at Gunny in surprise, then burst out laughing. It wasn’t until that moment, that Gunny realized the music was coming from HIM. From HIS cell phone. He normally kept the phone in silent mode, and he knew for certain that he had NEVER set this song as a ringtone.

“You can brush my hair,” the song continued to play, “Undress me everywhere. Imagination, life is your creation.”

“One guess as to who is responsible,” Sam commented wryly.

“Damn Imp,” Gunny grumbled as he turned off the phone, earning more giggles from around the room.

Then, to Gunny’s dread, Generator turned to Bugs, and with a broad grin, announced, “I just had a great idea for something to try in our next sim…”

Sam Everhart purposely walked across the campus, keeping a close watch of her surroundings but not seeing another person. That was no surprise though, as it was in the indeterminate hours where night and morning blurred together, and most people with any sense were in bed. She had just finished her final patrol of the campus, and was returning to Kane so she could sign out and end her shift for the night.

Just as Sam reached the entrance to Kane Hall, she paused and carefully looked around, though she still didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion anyway.

“Come on out, Imp,” Sam announced. “I know you’re there.”

Sam heard a sound from behind her and snapped around, to now see the Imp standing there. Since the Imp had a smirk on her face and a hand behind her back, she was obviously up to something. Then again, since she was the Imp, it could probably be assumed that she was up to something anyway.

“What now?” Sam asked, keeping her voice and expression even.

“Can we talk inside?” Imp asked cheerfully.

“Would it matter if I said no?” Sam asked with a sigh. When the Imp didn’t respond, she nodded. “Come on.”

Once they were inside, in the main security office area, the Imp pulled her hand from behind her back and revealed what she was holding. Sam had expected another green eggs and ham joke, but instead, Imp simply set a bottle of vodka onto the desk beside her instead.

“A peace offering,” Imp said.

Sam gave Imp a suspicious look, then picked up the bottle. She expected it to be green eggs and ham flavored, but it wasn’t. It wasn’t one of those flavored vodkas at all. However, it was Cat and Hat brand vodka, and had a picture on the front of a fat cat, who was wearing a derby. The reference was obvious.

“You know,” the Imp commented, casually sitting on the edge of the next desk over. “When I was cleaning up my new classroom, I found a certain book. I bet you’ll never guess which one.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief and her tail swished back and forth.

“I think I can guess,” Sam answered wryly.

“Green Eggs and Ham,” the Imp answered with a broad grin. Then she winked at Sam and continued, “To be specific, an autographed, first edition print of the book. It was worth enough that I was able to hire a few enterprising students to clean the room for me.”

“I suppose that was good for you,” Sam said, giving Imp a wary look since she wasn’t sure whether or not Imp was about to try something else.

Imp nodded agreement. “Yes it was. Most of the boxes were just clutter and junk, but there were a couple more hidden gems in the bunch.” She hopped back to her feet, flashing Sam a broad grin. “So, no hard feelings or anything. Besides, that whole sim thing was a lot of fun. Thanks for setting it up for me.”

With that, the Imp gave a sweeping bow, then turned and hurried out of the office. For a moment, Sam remained where she was, waiting for the other shoe to drop. She’d expected the Imp to pull at least one more trick before leaving. However, when Sam looked to where Imp had been sitting on the desk, she suddenly noticed the book that had been left behind. It was a brand new copy of Green Eggs and Ham.

"But what good are my powers if i can only predict sun or snow,and the lotto numbers, which as precog I'm not allowed to play in the first place?" Pouted a chubby young man from Pennsylvania as he watched the other kids in Power theory blow past him.

2016

"Ok, does anyone know why Jade keep calling me up giggling to ask if I have or want some BBQ potato chips?" Nikki asked leaning back in her 'throne' eyeballing the wall of her friends looking for Jade's co-conspirator.

Ayla, looking very Euro and content raised an eyebrow. "Even I am aware of the new Geico commercial... here's the link. You may want to sick your lawyers on them as they are leeching off your image some."

Not Canon, but a nice piece that occurred to me ...

---

"Mom," Lily asked softly. "Why did you become a hero?"

Startled at the question Tabitha stared down at her only child, before the sincerity of her question bought a smile to her face. "Your father," she replied reaching out to stroke Lily's face, siting down beside Lily on her bed.

"But," Lily blurted. "You were a Master Mind! And then, you said you were going straight! Having a normal life! What happened?"

Tabitha shrugged. "I fell in love. Robert was my life, and then there was you," Tabitha smiled again. "I was happy. I was in love and I was married. I had a daughter that was my entire world, and then," tears came to her eyes and she stared blindly. "And then Robert didn't come home one night," she whispered. "Nor the next day. Nor the day after."

Lily stared in horror, allowing herself to be pulled close as her mother absently reached out, trembling as she hugged her.

"No one knew what happened. Nobody would tell me what he had been doing. And I." Tears freely falling, she trembled as she remembered. "I couldn't lose him," Tabitha whispered as Lily stared at her horrified.

Giving herself a shake, Tabitha turned and smile wanly at her daughter, reaching up a hand to wipe away the tears on her face. "So I took you to your grandparents, promised them I'd do all in my power to find Robert, and went out and renewed contacts with my associates from the bad side of Whateley. I went dive to dive from one end of Boston to the other, tracking down all rumours of Falcon that I could, till eventually I tracked down a warehouse I was sure he was being held in. Using all my skills as a thief, I broke in through the roof and sneaked around in the rafters looking for him."

Pausing, Tabitha sighed and gave Lily another hug. "I found him just as they finished another session of 'interrogation', he was unconscious and they were dragging him back to a cell, laughing and joking about what they would do to him when he finally cracked and gave them the information they wanted. After they threw him into the cell, they paused by another one, commenting on how much they'd get when the 'merchandise' inside was sold."

Tabitha shivered. "Merchandise!" she snarled. "When they left, I crept past that cell on the way to rescuing Robert, and I glanced inside." Tabitha clutched Lily tight to her. "It was children," she whispered horrified. "Drugged and chained, one little older then you were then."

Tabitha sat silently staring ahead, before with a smile she hugged Lily to her. "I rescued Robert from his cell, and I dragged him off and was hiding, waiting for an opportunity to bolt, when I overheard them talking about the 'buyers' for the children, and what they would do to them. I ... I couldn't help it. I kept seeing you, chained and drugged and ... I couldn't do it. I couldn't skulk away and leave them. Not even for Robert." She closed her eyes, trembling at the memories.

Tabitha sighed and hugged Lily to her and smiled. "After that, I was always at Robert's side, making sure that never again would he be alone. Without backup. Without me. Making sure that from then on, he always came home every night." With a final hug, Tabitha stood up and left, leaving Lily staring after her, deep in thought.

Some suggested Jade scenes that were not used.

---

Jade beamed happily up at the man behind the customs and immigration desk at Paris airport as she pulled her suitcase along behind her and stepped up to the desk.

"Bienvenue à Paris, avez-vous quelque chose à déclarer?" he greeted her with an answering smile.

Frowning slightly, Jade haltingly replied. "Pardon. Ne comprends, parler anglais?" she asked finishing with a smile and fixing him with her wide puppy-dog eyes and holding out her passport.

Smiling at the young girl's halting attempt to speak French, the immigration official took pity on her. "Oui, mademoiselle. Welcome to Paris, do you have anything to declare?" he repeated the question in barely accented English, accepting her passport and scanning it.

"Well, I've got clothes, and shoes and things in my suitcase," Jade started babbling as the immigration official absently nodded, only half listening to her while he examined her passport and the contents of his computer screen. "And I have some harmless electronics and stuff, projects I've been working on at school, but I left all the guns and explosives and things like that at home, because all of that is like a big no-no to bring on an airplane."

Blinking rapidly and snatching his gaze up from his screen at the mentions of guns, the Immigration man glanced at the front of Jade's U.S. passport before looking up and rolling his eyes as she continued, sparing her prattle only a momentary glance before returning to processing her passport.

"And in my backpack I have a change of clothes, some books, gee it was a long flight! I'm so glad I brought them, not to mention my b-phone for its music and videos. And of course, there's my sister's ghost. She's in the backpack too."

Pausing in the act of giving back her passport, the officer asked cautiously, "Your sister's ghost?"

"Yeah, she died two years ago and she's with me constantly to look after me and protect me!" Jade happily declared.

"Oh, I see," he blinked at her.

"Yeah, she's always helping me, telling me things, watching over me ..."

"As an older sister should," the Officer murmured absently crossing himself. "Well, here is your passport. Welcome to France I hope you and your sister enjoy your stay," he smiled formally at her as he held out her stamped passport.

"Thank you!" Jade said happily gathering back her passport and stepping through the checkpoint to exit.

"Yes thank you!" The officer started and stared hearing a voice seemingly coming from the young girls backpack. Staring after the young Asian girl in disbelief, he watched as a white hand emerged from the backpack and waved goodbye to him as the young girl cheerily disappeared into the crowd of arrivals.

---

Jade almost shivered in glee as she rolled the sensual stockings up her long Jinn legs.

"You really do like dressing in this suit don't you?" Adalie asked Jinn in wonder. Looking around carefully she leaned in and whispered. "I thought you couldn't feel things anymore?"

Jinn smiled and started on her second leg, wiggling in delight as it too was covered in stockings. "I can't, but Nikki had Jade stretch and smooth a pair of the same stockings onto her legs, she said it would help me understand the mood and wickedness a pair of luxury stockings can imbue you with as they are slid slowly up your legs. And she was right, I do feel wicked and sultry and sexy when I slide on my stockings," Jinn smiled a knowing grin at the wide eyed stare of Adalie.

---

"How do you get such a sultry voice?" Adalie pleaded in a whisper as once again Ayla got out of the limo wincing at the pressure his gaff was exerting to keep his panty line undisturbed and his secret hidden.

Jinn giggled. "I just imagine how Nikki would say it if she wanted to melt Hank into a puddle on the floor."

Adalie blinked. "Isn't Stalwart Nikki's boyfriend?" she demanded confused.

Jinn giggled again. "Yes, but Nikki and Toni realised early on that Hank is the perfect gentleman and would never presume not matter what they teasingly suggested to him, so poor Hank became the patsy Nikki and Toni perfected all their feminine wiles on. Sometimes Hank was left not knowing which way was up, and which way was down when they were around." Smiling delightedly Jinn hopped out of the limo to follow Ayla.

"Have they been doing the same thing to Ayla?" Adalie demanded in a whisper when she too followed Jinn out.

Jinn shook her head. "Ayla's not much of a challenge to them, so they save it up for special occasions," Jinn placated her.

"Challenge?" Adalie splurged outraged.

Jinn turned to her and smiled. "It's a good thing that Lily is a "girl next door with a heart of gold," by now nearly every seductress on campus had tried her hand at Hank, but without Nikki and Toni's advantages, none of them have even entered Hank's conscious as an attempt on his affections."

"Advantages?" Adalie asked confused.

"Nikki has her Sidhe glamour and her empathy, and Toni is almost as good as Nikki at reading emotions through monitoring Ki flows. Plus they have the advantage of knowing all of Hank's weaknesses through teasing him from all the way back to that time when a pretty girl pressing against him and fluttering her eyes at him still worked. Nowadays Nikki and Toni have so desensitised him to that, I doubt there is a woman in the world other then Nikki and Lily that could still do it to him." Jinn snickered wickedly. "And Lily almost has Hank to the point were Nikki's Glamour isn't enough to get a response anymore. God he's soo far gone, Hank hasn't a chance at all of escaping Lily's intentions," she smiled excitedly to Adalie who grinned conspiratorially back at her.

"I don't serve mutants here," the ice cream man said gruffly.

"But- but, I just want to buy some ice cream for my friends," Teri said, her eyes wide and beginning to overflow with tears. "A-and you're the only ice cream place at the beach, so I can't get ice cream anywhere else."

"I. Don't. Care."

That was enough to set Teri off, and she began to wail so loudly all eyes in the immediate area turned to them.

"Mommy, why is that fairy crying," a little girl asked.

"Hey Mom, why won't he give that fairy ice cream? She looks nice," a boy said.

As the ice cream man tried to get her to shut up, more and more little kids started asking why the cute little fairy was so upset, and some of the toddlers began to cry themselves or walked over to try to cheer the fairy up.

"I just want a little bit of ice cream," Teri sobbed, futilely wiping the tears away with her wings. "I even said please and thank you!"

If Teri had been a monstrous mutant crying, she would have gotten far, far less sympathy. But being a six inch tall fairy straight out of a fairytale or cartoon gained Teri quite a bit of sympathy. As the kids kept asking questions, and a few even shouted at the ice cream man to be nice, with the parents getting more upset at the noise and how the pleasant day at the beach was turning into an uncomfortable learning experience.

"Just give her the damn ice cream!" a father shouted as his daughter tugged at his finger to help the sad fairy.

"Fine. What did you want you damn mutant?" the ice cream man snarled.

"I don't want it anymore, you're a big meanie!" Teri wailed, not leaving her seat on the corner of his cart.

"Come on kid, I'm trying to make a living here and you're scaring away my customers. Just tell me what you want and get out of here."

His mean tone just made Teri cry even harder.

"For the love of... Here! Take it! Just get the hell out of here!" the ice cream man said, filling a bag with what he remembered from her order.

"I wanted an ice cream sandwich to," Teri muttered.

An ice cream sandwich went into the bag. "Now take a hike!"

The tears slowly faded to sniffles, as Teri took the bag. She took to the air her wings drooping a little, but she made sure to smile and thank the children for helping her. When she was well away from the crowd, she perked up, smiling happily and began bouncing up and down as she flew. Reaching her friends she tossed them the bag. "Hey guys I got the ice cream, sorry it took so long, but I managed to get it all for free!'

By some measures it was a good thing that, by the time Auxiliary Security Officer Mads Jensen finally got down the hill and dragged his sorry arse up the steps to Hawthorne Cottage, it was well past lights out. He was hoping that that meant the common rooms would be deserted - because he was just too wiped out to head back up to Kane Hall from Doyle to clean up all his gear and soak blood and pine tar off his uniform first. The tremor in his hand as he went to unlock the door warned him that a long day was turning to a longer night.

Some time back, Sam Everheart had mentioned that one of her first nights patrolling on-campus she'd run across a student who'd plowed into a tree because the girl had forgotten that knowing where you're going is a critical flight skill. To hear her tell it, it was kind of funny, since exemplars tend to be bullet-proof and mostly impalement-

You know, they could very well wait to examine his knee until after he finished yarking up his bootlaces. Hell, that kid is probably still in surg-

Make that 'until after the bootlaces worked their way up and the rain has died down.'

It was one thing to deal with shooting or stabbing victims being pulled off the street into Mama's clinic. The few times he'd been in combat, well that had definitely been 'kill or be killed'. There's just something about having to help saw limbs, tree, tree limbs, not the other, off next to still living and crying. No. Thinking about that was just worse. Even with all the power he could risk on healing, that wouldn't have made the pain go away. For someone whose world wouldn't ever, ever. Damn. Just breathe.

The boy never noticed the warning signal before his medkit fired off a double dose of anti-psychotic and pain-killer.

Nor, thankfully, did he see the look on Mrs. Cantrel's face as Eldritch and the on-call nurse loaded his unconscious body on the stretcher, leg carefully splinted. The phone call warning her that one of her charges was coming in in bad shape had hurt; the pounding of boots, slamming of a bathroom door, and snap of broken cartilage when he slipped and went down hard simply broke her heart with each terrible sound. The softly muttered "Well, his helmet's still on. No concussion this time. That's good, right?" from one of the other 'inmates' who should have been asleep, didn't help. "Right. Like I'd trust Metro with crutches." Gallows humor, but better.

"You all go on back to your rooms, now." What kind of world teaches children 'There but for the Grace of God go I' so intimately? "We'll know more in the morning." But the dawn is still so very far off.

Gina headed out the door of Dickinson a little early to avoid the rush of students eager for breakfast, She stretched her arms back and let the warm sun caress her skin for a moment before heading off towards Crystal Hall.

~
Gina headed out the door of Dickinson a little early to avoid the rush of students and so that she could talk to Mr. Anderson before class about some new tricks she'd learned over the summer. She stretched her arms back and let the warm sun caress her skin for a moment before heading off towards her first day of Survival Class for the year.

~

With a bowl full of cereal and a cup of hot chocolate, Gina took a quick look around the cafeteria to see if any of her friends were getting an early start as well. With a big smile she headed over to the Underdog table and took a seat. "Hi Anna, how was your summer?" she asked.

~

Gina strolled along the back path listening to the singing birds and enjoying the bit of privacy the trees provided after the bustle of the cottage. Unfortunately her few minutes of peace were cut short when she saw some bullies start swaggering down the path towards her.

~

"- the MCO gave Jerry and me some trouble at the Miami airport, but Jerry was able to handle it so we didn't miss our flight," Anna said, with stars in her eyes. "What about you, how was your summer?"

"It wasn't as interesting as your summer," Gina said. "No supervillain fights for me. But I had fun back home. I went, oh no!"

~

"Well if it isn't my favourite girl, two for one," Buster said. "New guy, this is one of the underdogs I told you about. All she can do is make a duplicate, so if you catch her, you can beat two of her up for the price of one."

A freshman, who looked even stupider and uglier than Buster smirked. "What a useless little bitch. Why is she even here?"

Rolling her eyes, Gina ducked before the freshman could grab her hair. "Yeah, my power is useless. Why don't you go find someone who's actually a challenge to annoy or are you too chicken to risk a real fight?"

"Are you going to let her talk to you like that, new guy?" Buster asked.

~

"Are you OK?" Anna asked.

"Yeah," Gina said, shaking herself to focus on her friend. "I just got distracted a little. One second."

~

Gina took a step back from the bully who was growing by the second until he was ten feet tall and leering down at her. "Oh this is so fair. Your mother must be so proud of you," she said deadpan.

A hand the size of a desk reached out to pick her up, not wanting to know what the bully would do if he actually got her Gina disappeared.

"Where the hell did she go?! I thought you said she could only make a duplicate."

~

"Ugh," Gina groaned in disgust. A duplicate suddenly appeared beside her.

Anna didn't even blink at the sudden appearance of the second Gina. "Problems?"

"Ran into Buster and a new bully who is a size warper that's at least as bad as Buster if not worse," Gina replied in stereo. Turning to face her duplicate the original Gina said, "I'll go to survival class now, I seem to have more luck today."

Anna waited patiently as Gina got up and headed for the door, while Gina slid into the now empty seat.

"So like I was saying before we were so rudely interrupted, my vacation was boring but nice. I went to my grandparents with my brother..."

"Everyone, please get out your pens and put your books away, its time for a pop quiz," the English teacher said.

As the class groaned, the teacher pulled a chair off to the side. "Gina, please come here."

Teri watched in confusion as a normal looking girl suddenly became two, and the new one walked red faced to the chair.

"What's going on there?" She asked a sophomore who was sitting beside her.

"Last year Gina used her double to give herself an unfair advantage on her exam. It's why she's taking the class over again."

"Oh! That's sneaky," Teri said, imagining what she could do with that power.

12: 35, Lunchtime, Whateley Academy, the Crystal Hall
“Look,” Eddie said intently over the lunch table, “we have to do something!”

“Hey, Gina’s cool with it, and she made the goober look like a complete dork,” Jamal said coolly. “If we go back at him, we’ll just kick it up so’s he’ll feel that he’s gotta come back at her. Let it be.”

“What’s this?” Thorn skated up to the table dressed as a 1950’s carhop, with a large plate of junk food held up properly in one hand. “Let what be? Is Paul McCartney making yet another comeback?”

‘There’s another new bully in the crop of Froshes,” Jolt explained. “A Size Warper, calls himself ‘Maximize’ let Buster talk him into leaning on Gina.”

“What? The CAD!”

Jolt shrugged. “From what she told me, it wasn’t that bad. She was doubled-up and she just merged off the spot before it could get nasty. Gina says let it be, and I agree with her.”

Thorn sat down and resumed his usual (‘normal’ so rarely applies to Thorn) Edwardian mode and said, “’Maximize’, you say? Well of course! A young lady of Miss Regina’s quality and sensitivity would never stoop to seeking revenge on a poor young man who’s had a nervous breakdown! I suggest that we follow Miss Regina’s example and leave the poor soul to his plight.”

“Nervous breakdown?” Eddy asked, confused. “When did Maximize have a nervous breakdown?”

Then a huge figure staggered into cafeteria, swatting frantically at one of hundreds of bright cheery pastel color cartoon squirrels that were swarming all over him. Maximize frantically stomped and swatted and tore at the squirrels, but every time he did so, two more took its place. In one high-pitched nitrogen-charged chorus, they sang, ‘John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt! His name is my name too! And whenever we go out, you can hear the people shout, HEY JOHN JACOB JINGLEHEIMER SCHMIDT!YADA YADA YADA YAH! One More TIME! John-”

Thorn took out a large gold watch, checked it and said clinically, “I’d say about 3 o’clock, 3:30 at the latest.”

"Assault with a horde of cartoon squirrels! Shouldn't someone report this?"

Thorn did not jump. A gentleman is never so crude, even if there had certainly NOT been anyone behind him so much as a moment ago!

"Help. Police. Murder ." he muttered calmly before piping up, "Of course, my good fellow. If indeed these shadows have offended?"

Before a Midsummer's Nacht, errr, Dream, could get much further underway, the new kid pointed over to the bully, "Then consider this, and all is mended"

Now it was a hugely confused Slappy Squirrel^TM being serenaded.

"I've got a twenty on 2:30 if the chorus line switches to " Tom's Diner " Yes? Good. Off we go."

Rachel tiptoed across the sunroom, through the maze of Meccano pieces on the floor. "Do you have to make such a mess?"

"Hay Rach," her twin brother said without looking up from the gears he was screwing together.

She plopped down opposite him and regarded the contraption. He'd used the windup motor from the Meccano car, and linked it to a gear train, that seemd to be part way to being a circle. "So what you building."

David stopped, dropping the screwdriver, and scratched his head. then turned the contraption over, to reveal more gears on the other side. "You know what. I don't have a clue.""

"Mum says we've got to be ready to go in ten minutes. Uniforms!" she shuddered.

David picked up another gear, and poked his contraption with it several times. But each time the gear train seeme to jam up. "It's just part of the Joys of High school."

Rachel snatched the gear from him, and flipped the contraption back over.. "It goes, here", she said, slotting it into place. "you're not the one who has to wear peach! Whoever though peach dresses where a good idea should be. Well should have somthing terrible happen to them, thouse dresses are hideous."

David nodded, and added another gear. It connected to the one his sister had fitted snd completed the gear train, "Its, missing something."

"Mercury" Rachel said at the same moment as David said "Quartz".

"I'll get a thermometer" David said, running from the room and down the stairs. Rachel was up at the same moment, their feet hitting the steps in perfect unison, only to separate at the landing.

Moments later Rachel returned with her collection of mineral samples. Her fingers ran along the sall compartments, fishing out the clear quartz and Iron pyrite.

David sat beside her, placing a large candy thermoeter beside their collection. He picked out a piece of obsidian from the box, and dropped it beside the other minerals. "that one too"

Rachel nodded in agreement, and positioned the quartz on a metal meccano plate. David put the screwdriver at and angle and tapped the other end with wooden block. The quats split, into three, sections with clear smooth facets along the facture line.

They split shards of quats, pirite and obsidian and then fitting them in among the gears. Four hands working as if they had practiced the motions for hours. Neither of them saying a word, or indeed feeling any need to do so,

Finally the crystals where all in place. Rachel held the broken thermometer above the gear train. Meanwhile David turned the key on the clockwork, and released the catch.

The gear train turned, crystals sending beams of sun light dancing about the room. Slower and slower as the cockwork rand down.

Rachel tipped the thermometer, puring a stream of mercury into the works. It came out not in drops but in a single stream as thin as a human hair. The mercury weaved from gear to gear in total disregard of gravity. Finally looping back to the beginging just as the thermometer emptied.

The Twins watched it for a while, smiling. "That's just like in my dream", they said in unison, looking at eachother.

"Hay your eyes, are green", sitll in unison their voices bleing into one polyphonic whole.

"Rachel, David, get down here" Their mother called from downstairs.

"Jinx," Rachel said, pulling herself up and away from the contraption. Her brothers eyes looked brown again. "we better get going."

"Kids," their mother called again.

"Coming," they called as the yrun down the stairs. By the time they hit the landing Rachel, with her longer legs, was in the lead, and the spell was broken.

Upstairs the impossible contraption kept turning. Thirty seven gears linked in one continues train. Life went on in th Doyle household. Shoes where put on, and the front door slammed, leaving the house empty. Upstairs in the sunroom the Meccano contraption kept spinning. The crystals glowing faintly in the shadows, and sparkiling in the sun. And the mercury tinkling as it looped around and around.

Although she'd been taught that an effective way to start a pre-exam review was to open the floor for questions on key topics, Dr. Ophelia 'Caduceus' Tenent was absolutely convinced that neither her college professors nor the Goddess herself had had her 6th Period Magical Theory class in mind.

"Excuse me, I don't think I heard what you said. Could you repeat that?"

"I said one potential way to exit a Fool's Circle would be to modify the local gravitational constant in the local frame of reference, such that the curvature of space-time either excludes the subject previously with the warded volume, or the spell's physical boundaries intersect, disrupting the working. Barring some variation of a heterodyne effect."

The words escaped before Dr. Tenent could stop them, "Are you insane?"

On reflection, that slip-up boded a much better outcome than the fact that "What can you tell me about a Fool's Circle?" had been the first question, with 40 minutes left to go.

The student looked over and frowned at the student sitting next to him and grinning like a loon, "You took the words right out of my mouth."

The other piped up, "However, the Rule of Inherent Flaw doesn't preclude flaws induced after a casting. In theory, what's being described is little different from erasing the diagram from the outside. Drawn circles are also vulnerable to earthquakes."

"Gentlemen, if either of you ever decide to test that method, please warn the faculty in advance so we can arrange to be on a different planet at that time."

The beleaguered mystical arts teacher mentally counted to ten before adding, "For the rest of you, whoever introduced your fellow student back there to 'Star Trek: The Next Generation' and/or 'Supernatural', you have until the end of the day to turn your self in."

Main Workshop, Friday before Parent's Day
Langley Paulson looked around at the assembled collection of Devisors and Gadgeteers. After a moment, he spoke. "It has been brought to my attention that parties who shall remain nameless have scheduled a pie throwing contest for tomorrow on range 4. This contest has been canceled. Anyone caught participating in said contest will face a week of detention."

The speech was interrupted when a member of security tapped him on the shoulder and whispered into his ear.

Range 4, earlier that day
The delivery van that drove up to the Range 4 bunker was a non-nondescript affair, proclaiming ownership by a 'Waldorf Bakery'. Driving the van was a similarly non-remarkable gentleman. Standing outside the bunker was a surprisingly alert Lieutenant Trout. Coming to an easy stop, the driver grabbed a clipboard from the passenger seat and hopped out of the van, the engine still running. Lieutenant Trout in turn strolled over to meet the driver. The driver was the first to speak. "'Morning officer. You're here to sign for the shipment?"

"What is it?"

"Several pallets of specialized non-lethal ammunition."

"What type of ammunition?"

"Competition grade throwing pies."

"Who ordered that?"

The driver looked at his clipboard. "One I. M. Pei."

Lieutenant Trout snorted. "Figures. Can I see your ID?"

The driver fished a red-bordered card from his wallet and showed it to the security officer who scrutinized it before handing it back. The duo then proceeded around the van and opened up the rear rolling door. The Lieutenant was surprised to see that the pallets contained exactly what the driver claimed, row upon row of pie shells filed with some type of cream filling. Shrugging, he held out his hand for the clipboard. After taking a minute to scan the paperwork, he scrawled a signature on it and returned it to the driver.

15 minutes later, the pallets had been unloaded from the truck and were stashed in front of the bunker door. After closing the rolling door, the driver shook hands with Trout. "Pleasure working with you."

"You too Highwayman. Drop me a line if you have any deliveries coming this way."

"I will be certain to do so."

Security Offices, later that day
Chief Delarose growled. "What do you mean, we can't revoke the booking for Range 4 for tomorrow?"

"Apparently the Imp called it her fee for her pen-test on the administration offices."

"And the pallets in front of the Range 4 bunker?"

"How was I to know that they'd lock in place until all the ammunition had been thrown?"

"What were you doing there, anyways?"

"I had received a tip about some incoming contraband. How was I to know that the pies were the contraband?"

The chief just shook his head. "You get to tell the range jockies that range four is closed until the Imp's little competition is over. I'll take care of notifying the department heads."

Main Workshop, a little later
Langley Paulson just shook his head after hearing what the security officer had to say. After taking a moment to compose his thoughts, he spoke again. "I stand corrected. Apparently a significant quantity of practice pies were delivered this morning to range 4. The administration was unable to halt this delivery, or return the shipment. As such, the use of this range for test firings will be permitted. However, anyone caught throwing pies at anything other than range targets will still be subject to detention.

Teri flew down the tunnel holding Buster by his underwear in the mother of all wedgies, looking for a good spot to leave the bully hanging when she came across an amusing sight, a preteen young girl in a gothic lolita dress, with long white hair and a boy who was cocooned in pink ribbons.

"Whatcha doing?" she asked the girl.

"I could ask you the same thing," the girl replied.

"Teaching a bully a lesson. It turns out Buster is only really strong if you hit him, and wedgies don't count as hitting." She bobbed the unlucky bully in the air causing him to whimper in pain.

The girl nodded in understanding. "I'm doing something similar with this guy, he thought that being a size warper let him pick on little girls. I proved him wrong."

"Isn't that Maximize?" Teri asked. "How can ribbons keep him wrapped up?"

"Yeah, it is. I just needed to use a lot more than usual. I'm Ribbon."

"Teri. I love your dress, I have one like it I wear for special occasions. I should be going, I need to get this guy to the nearest flag pole before the dinner rush starts. Maybe we can play together with some bullies later, I'll get my own dress so we can match."

Ribbon nodded and said goodbye slinging the bully over her shoulder, waving as Teri flew past.

"Thanks for annoying me Buster, you just helped me make a new friend," Teri said cheerfully, giving him a little shake.

Buster didn't say anything, just groaned in pain wishing he'd never seen the little freak.

"Can I paint your face?" Teri asked her fellow Whitmaniac.

"What?" asked the porcelain covered girl sounding confused even though her expression never changed.

"I'd like to paint your face," Teri repeated. "You look like a pretty doll, but you always seem sad. I was thinking that painting some flowers in really bright colours would make you look really beautiful. I have some stencils so they'll look nice. I think the rose stencils would look best, but I have a bunch of others that we can look through. So can I?"

The girl cocked her head, cracking the porcelain at her neck, which was the only sign she could give that she was considering the request. Finally, "Thank you Teri, I think I'd like that."

Teri disappeared from sight and was back five seconds later holding a large zip lock bag full of paint, brushes and stencils. "Yay! I get to be Picasso!"

I suggest you find the "Belle - Bonjour" song on the net and listen to it while reading this scene. Why should I be the only one with that ear worm in my head?

~*~

Andi'argana grinned as she turned her face into the morning sun as she stepped out of her home. With a bounce and a slight twirl in her step she headed down the street. “Little town it hi's a quiet village.
Every day like the one before. Little town full of little people, waking up to say...” she started to sing as she nodding to the neighbors she passed.

“Morning.” first one then another called out. “Good day.”

“Hello!”

“How are you?”

Most where of Sidhe decent like her, though more then a few, her self included, showed hybrid traits. It had been a necessity forced on the Colonies long ago for them to have a wide enough pool of stock and to adapt to their new worlds. Di'ar knew some places where only the Court Pure where allowed to enter, and hybrid children born to them where killed as much as the Council objected to the practice.

“Here is the baker with his tray like always. The same old bread and rolls to sell. Every morning just the same since the morning that we came, To this poor provincial town.” Pushing the disgusting thought from her mind Di'ar entered the little store she liked.

“Morning Di'ra! The usual?”

“Yes please, Mon'shir.”

The baker nodded and turned to pull Di'ar's order from the shelves behind him, his tail flicking to the tune Di'ar had brought in. “Where you off to?”

“The library... I'm trying to do some research.” She replied as she paid for her purchases. While she counted out the required coins Di'ar didn't see the baker roll his eyes at her. Tucking her things in her carry all Di'ar pulled out a tablet and began to work on it as she walked, still humming to herself. So engrossed was she, Di'ar was unaware of the gossip going on about her.

“Look there she goes, that girl is strange, no question. Dazed and distracted can't you tell?” a woman with a good bit of feline melded with avian and Sidhe said pointing. “Never part of any crowd.”

Her friend, a woman with a scales and four arms shrugged “It's 'Cause her head's up on some cloud.”

“No denying she's a funny girl, that Di'ar.” the cat-bird woman agreed.

Coming to the library Di'ar paused long enough to check that she had dawdled long enough for it to be open, the she pushed her way through the door. The librarian, a short green man with comically over sized ears looked up giving Di'ar a fond smile. “Ah! Di'ar! Like always the first you are.” he said before running a hand through his thinning hair.

“Good Morning! I've come to continue my research!”

“Scanned our collection all is. At home view it you could.”

“It's just not the same.” Di'ar sighed as she leaned on the counter. She was about to say more but her words where cut off as the windows began to rattle in their frames. When something fairly close explodes Di'ar and the librarian dropped to the ground as the power went out. Seconds after the explosion Di'ar's curiosity forced her to get back on her feet and approach the window. From her position she could see the Protectors rushing towards the source, their uniforms flowing from their light duty forms to ones more suited for heavy combat.

Di'ar could see that near the edge of the town a space craft hovered, likely over their energy plant if the fact the power grid had just gone out was any indication, firing weapons at whatever seemed to catch the gunner's attention. Sidhe that where struck by the beams collapsed to the ground, while the buildings struck by them seemed none the worse for wear. Then a hatch opened in the side of the craft and being either dropped or flew out of the space ship. Gulping nervously Di'ar pushed the door open and hurried out onto the street, hugging the buildings, unsure what she could do, but knowing she should try and help some how.

~*~

An almost androgynous looking blue Pergusus hovered near her leader, grinning as the dark purple Alicorn's stun weapon dropped another of the damned sidhe. “Wow! You didn't miss a shot Aftergolw! You're the greatest marksfillie in the whole troop.”

The woman known as Afterglow Spark buffed her fingers on her chest with a smirk. “I know.”

“No beast alive stands a chance against you. And no male for that matter.”

Afterglow nodded distractedly as she scanned the fleeing crowd below them. “It's true Scurry. And I've got my sights set on that one.” she said pointing.

Chimera Scurry cocked her head looking confused at the figure her mistress was pointing to. “That pink one?”

“He's the one! The lucky male I'm going to enslave in my bed chamber!” Afterglow said already wondering how long this one would last. She wore them out so darn quickly...

“But he...”

“He'll be the most handsome stallion around. That makes him the best! And don't I deserve the best!?

“Well of course, I mean you do, I mean...” Scurry said looking frustrated and even more confused by the moment. “That's a female mistress!”

Afterglow shrugged. “So? That's what the Conversion Matrices are for.” she paused to eye Scurry, causing the smaller mare to shiver and her mane to stand on end. “I wonder what would happen if we put more then one being in the same Matrix... You're nearly due for a promotion my daring one...” she added absently as she caressed Scurry's small bust. “I do miss what you once had, but after you disappointed me like that...”

“I know mistress, I won't disappoint you again.” Scurry said meekly. “I'd very much like my breasts back.”

“Well then go retrieve him for me! Maybe if you really please me with the rest of this raid, I'll let you join me in breaking him in.” Afterglow said as she lined up her shot and dropped Di'ar.

~*~

Di'ar heard someone grunt “Huh!” as warmth flowed over her body. Cracking her eyes she saw a flaming demon standing over her, and she let out an ear splitting scream as she scrambled out of the box she had been curled up in. As she tried to get away from the in-Sidhe fiend her foot landed on something soft and fleshy, and when she put more of her weight on it she felt pain rip up through it and into her pelvic region. The pain dropped her to the ground, curling her back into the fetal position. Her hands instinctively went to cover between her legs, and she was shocked to find that instead of the 'burrow under the grassy hill' she had had since birth, she now possessed a 'sapling' thicker around then her wrist, and in it's writhed state of pain, nearly as long as her forearm. And between her clamped together legs she could feel the added pain of squeezing two apples between her knees. And while the feeling was much disturbing then the new organ she had sprouted and stepped on apparently, Di'ar felt like there was something also wrong with her feet.

“Hey now, easy... Miss. I won't hurt you.” The demon said as his bale fire snuffed out and the black carapace that had encased him faded away. Blinking against the tears in her eyes Di'ar looked up him, and realized he looked almost Sidhe, though there where some differences. Then something cut through the pain; she could understand him! He was speaking, all be it with a terrible accent, one of the lesser Old Tongues her teachers had made her class learn!

“What... what colony is this?” she asked as she cautiously took the man's hand, letting him draw her to her feet. She swayed slightly, eyes dropping to the ground. Gulping she released the hand she was holding to mover her new addition out of her way enough to see her feet. Some how she was not surprised in the least to see that her toes had fused together into two thicker toes which where both capped by a dark pink nail. The bones in her feet had also shifted so she now stood on tip toes.

“What are we going to do with him? Her?” a female Di'ar hadn't noticed before asked, causing the girl to turn towards her. The woman's attire left little to the imagination and Di'ar staggered feeling light headed as the blood flowed else where.

“Holy Crap! He's practically poking his chin with that thing!” she woman squeaked as she backpedaled away from Di'ar.

"So, what made you retire from the demon-summoning business"

"Well, there comes a time in every villain's life when they realize that villainy is both more dangerous and less profitable then they expected. But the skill set they've developed isn't one that they can apply to legitimate business, so they just push themselves harder, going for that one big break that will let them retire.

Fortunately for me, when I reached this point, I realized that demon-summoning skills are vastly more applicable than those of the average villain. So I packed up my salt and virgin's blood, and became a contract lawyer instead. Haven't looked back since."

Saturday, October 27, 2007, Parent's Day, oh-just kill me now-thirty-hours
somewhere along the south perimeter road

Mikkel Andersen was officially miserable. The weather wasn't cold enough to warrant heavier clothes; he'd be venting heat plumes that would give his position away. What it was though, was chilly, overcast and wet with rain, and the ground was cold and damp too. He'd been informed that something happening tonight would affect one of his watch list targets, but useful information beyond that was conveniently not available. Some other student on that list had snuck away to the south, but that path led to a village of weres and a stand of trees considered even more dangerous. Than weres. In the forest. Under a full moon like tonight's. So here the agent stayed, miserably staking out a school, in weather only a miserable Canadian could love, miserably hoping that his last moments on earth didn't include fangs, claws, and the smell of wet fur.

Security officer Derek R. Johnson was having another rotten patrol shift. He could complain, deeply and way, way off-duty, about what the Academy was meant to do, but not about the foul-weather gear issued to Security. No, the problem was that this year's "Parents' Day" was too close to Halloween for the comfort of anyone attached to the unit. Maybe not every mutie needed to be put down - although Johnson had such a long personal list of those that really, really needed to be - but Security and the Range Crew had been hit far too hard last year just for doing their jobs. Instead of acting as part of the team, he'd let them all down by pursuing his own agenda. Now here he was, parolling the south side of campus facing Sector Tango with Auxiliary-my-ass security officer Jensen, supposedly because they'd both survived Class 3/Class X encounters in the past year. Yay.

Mads 'Metro' Jensen was feeling the chill as acutely as the others. Other than that, the high humidity would slow down dehydration; that was a plus. He'd known about Thomas heading off to check on Evelyn and Lars, and was looking forward to hearing how his little brother was doing at school. Being one of the school's geographic orphans, that would have to suffice for his Parents' Day. Meanwhile, the usual security hazards, Derek R for 'Robert the Plant' Johnson included, didn't take care of themselves. There were no good reasons to slack off on patrol, just nothing interesting going on.

On the other hand, there was no reason not to have some fun with uninvited guests, yeah?

Johnson knew something was up when Jensen suddenly stopped and signalled a halt. "Someone up ahead. Wait here."

"Understood", Johnson crouched and double-checked his gear before scanning the area ahead for masked heat signatures or worse. He already knew, from working with the guy, that tracking the smaller, faster Jensen would be a lost cause.

Soon, he heard a very quiet voice over the comms, "Watcher. 100 yards ahead, on your 2. Move up."

After several tense minutes of commando crawling up to their "guest", Johnson could nearly see traces of the man. See the officer he was supposed to back up? Of course not. Until ...

"Mr. Andersen... you disappoint me."

In retrospect, Johnson decided that seeing 'Agent Smith' step out of the gloom would have been less frightening than seeing the grinning 14-year-old step out of complete darkness aiming that assault rifle equipped with an underslung grenade launcher. He also decided that the howling coming from the forest was what passed for laughter among werewolves.

OK. Watching the platoon nutcase scare the hell out of the intruder with a movie quote was pretty damned funny.

Huddling under a warm blanket after being dropped off like a mouse dragged in by the owner's tomcat, Agent Andersen miserably pondered how he was going to report back to headquarters that he'd not only been caught by an American high school's security team, but that his captor had been one of the very high school students he was supposed to be keeping track of. At this rate, he'd be lucky to be assigned whale-counting along the Greenland coast.

Kane Hall, later that morning

Security Chief Franklin Delarose looked up from the morning pile of reports, to the other "observers" who'd managed to get themselves rounded up overnight.

"What's it going to be worth to you, for me to forget to tell your supervisors that you were caught by Commander Chipmunk's platoon?"

Whitecliff Technical Institute, Aberdeenshire, Scotland
Fall, 2028

Located on the Aberdeenshire coast, Whitecliff Manor was an unusual place to locate a boarding school. Situated on the North Sea coast, the surrounding hills were devoid of any vegetation larger than a bush. While picturesque in the summer, the climate was much harsher in the months of November through March, which just happen to comprise the bulk of the school year.

However, Whitecliff Technical Institute isn’t your usual boarding school. For a school full of devisors and gadgeteers, being located a respectable distance from civilization provides a buffer in the case of the inevitable Diedrick’s episode.

For a newcomer, the focal point of the sprawling building was the entry hall. Milling around on the floor of the hall were roughly 50 students, nearly as many VIs, and a dozen teachers. Opposite the quadruple doors into the building was a grand staircase to a second floor balcony. On the ground level, the staircase was flanked by two pairs of double doors. Three more single doors lined the back wall on the balcony level. The left and right sides of the hall each had two widely spaced single doors on the ground level, and two more on the balcony level, directly over the doors on the ground level. Just to the left of the balcony level door at the top of the stairs and the balcony doors on the sides of the hall were alcoves, each containing a statuary bust.

Addressing the crowd with a calm dignity from the landing on the grand staircase was a lanky exemplar, looking every bit the stereotypical mad scientist. “Welcome to Whitecliff Technical Institute. I am Headmaster Urquhart. For those of you looking for Hogwarts, I’m afraid you’re in the wrong place. The goal of Whitecliff Technical Institute is to nurture the skills and talents of the brightest gadgeteers and devisors. We count among our alumni many of the biggest names in the gadgeter and devisor communities. While you are here, you will receive a well rounded education. Before you are given wing assignments, let me give you an overview of the manor’s layout.”

He paused a moment to gauge the attentiveness of his audience before resuming. “You are standing in the Manor’s grand hall. In the evenings and on weekends, this is the social hub of the school. Behind me on the ground floor is the dining complex. Below the dining complex is the library. To the left and right on the ground floor are the classroom wings. All laboratories and workshops are located underground. Above the classrooms and dining complex are the student sleeping quarters. The Men’s wings are to east, and the women’s wings are to the west. Each wing has a wing mother or father. In addition to their teaching duties, they have agreed to live in the manor and to take on the responsibility of watching over the students under their care. Once you have settled into your rooms, your wing parent will take you on a more detailed tour of the school.”

An asian lady who had been standing behind the headmaster took a step forward and spoke up. “I am Mrs. Yoshito, the assistant headmistress. I too welcome you to Whitecliff Technical Institute. Each of our resident wings are named after a Brittish author. For men, the full wings are Wells in the front and Stoker in the rear. On the women’s side, the full wings are Tillyard in front and Shelley in back. Wing parents are Mr. Leslie, Mr. Agnue, Miss. Craig and Miss. Macgillivray, respectively. Mr. Leslie and Miss Macgillivray are the languages department, Mr. Agnue teaches science and Miss Craig is the fine arts department. Our final wing is located above the dining area. Named the Shakespeare wing, the two halves of this wing are commonly called Opheilla and Othello. The wing mother for these wings is our mystic arts department, Miss Forbes.”

After she finished her explanation, the identified teachers climbed the stairs. Each teacher stopped next to one of the busts that guarded a door. Headmaster Urquhart then spoke up, drawing the attention of the students back to the stairs.. “When you are called, please make your way up the stairs to your assigned wing. Once everyone has arrived in their wing’s common area, your wing parent will give you your room assignment.”

One by one, names were called out, with Mr. Urquhart and Mrs. Yoshito taking turns. After a short time, it became apparent that the headmaster and assistant headmistress were rotating between the four full wings, occasionally assigning students to the shakespeare wing, seemingly at random. It also became apparent that many of the students with more severe cases of GSD were being assigned to Stoker and Shelley.

Eventually, the only students left standing were a male exemplar with Pict features and a shy girl clad in a buckskin dress. The headmaster spoke up. “Martin Mackie and Joann Deep Waters, please join us on the landing. As you are both exchange students, I needed a bit of guidance on where to place you. Mr. Mackie, what cottage did you reside in back at Whateley?”

The student spoke as he ascended the staircase. “Emerson cottage, sir.”

“Would you have any concerns about rooming with someone with GSD?”

“No, sir. Some of my best friends are thornies, and I have yet to serve detention.”

“Let’s give you a go in Stoker then. It’ll balance the rooming situation better anyways.”

Mrs. Yoshito then spoke as she focused her attention on the girl. “Miss Deep Waters, I’m afraid you’re the first student we’ve had from Homestake. How are students accommodated?”

“We are grouped into four bands, with each band comprised of four or five camps. Each camp houses about a dozen students. Most of the avatars and weres are in the Cave band, while the Forrest band is the male shamen and the Sky band is the female shamen. I’m part of the Waterfall band, which is something of a catch-all for students who don’t fit elsewhere for whatever reason.”

The assistant headmistress frowned. “That doesn’t help me much.”

Joann fidgeted for a moment, then spoke quietly. “Chief Franks told me to let Miss Forbes know that she was one of us, whatever that means.”

“Would it be more accurate to say that Pejuta said that you were one of us?” The student looked up to see the Shakespeare wing mother descending the stairs. Joann blinked, then nodded in response to the query. Seeing the nod, Beltane continued to speak. “It means a whole lot. Headmaster, may I have her for Opheilla? Melissa could use a roommate while Cynthia is at Homestake.”

Headmaster Urquhart gave an amused snort. “If you wish. You always claim the most interesting students. Miss Macgillivray will be disappointed though.”

“I do wish. Joann, please come with me to your new home for the school year.”

As Joann and Miss Forbes ascended the stairs, the other wing parents disappeared into their wings.

"Um, Lanie," said Tansy as yet another pair of girls stumbled past Elain's open door, mouths firmly locked together, "is it just me or are there a lot of lesbians in your cottage? This isn't like, the designated gay cottage or something, is it?"

Elaine laughed. "No, no. It's just, you know how Poe's supposed to be for the crazies? Well, it is, and we're all here to support each other. That means we're used to being open-minded and withholding judgment, so we feel more comfortable being honest with each other. You probably have just as many over in your own cottage, but they're scared to let anyone to know."

Mustang gave an amused snort inside Tansy's head. "She's right, you know. I keep telling you that all females are bisexual. Especially for us."

Tansy shrugged and turned back to her breadboard. "I guess you're right. Besides, a gay cottage would be silly." She continued placing components, humming absently , while Elaine let out a very quiet sigh of relief.

"But why?" wailed Brenda Franks. "Why does it have to be a boy spirit? I want to stay a girl! Kayda and Danny got girl spirits! Why can't I have one!"

Wakan Tanka's manifested form sighed. "Yes, they did. And they were both very unhappy about that."

"Then you understand! So why would you do it to me?"

Kayda rolled her eyes. "Brenda, we were trying not to do that to you!"

Wakan Tanka nodded. "When we realized you were coming, Kayda and Danny told me quite firmly that I was not to give their new brother another female spirit, and I agreed with them. It had caused more trouble with them than I had expected, and with you I had more time to prepare. I began searching for a suitable male spirit immediately, and I found one! Sica Wica is very proud to-"

"But I'm a girl!"

"Yes, you are a girl."

"So if you know I'm a girl, why didn't you get me a girl spirit?!"

"I didn't know you would be a girl at the time, and then it was too late. I'd already asked Sica Wica if he'd be willing, and-"

"So what?! Why didn't you just tell him there'd been a mistake?!"

"Brenda, if you had seen the look on Sica Wica's face when I broached the idea of him bonding the brother of Ptesanwi, you would not ask me such a silly question."

"How is that-"

"Brenda, you weren't there," interrupted Kayda as she began rummaging through the knapsack she'd brought with to their little pow-wow. "You didn't see. I so wish I'd been able to take a picture... ah, here." She handed Brenda a photo of a portrait. "I got a teacher at Whateley to paint this. It's a pale imitation, but she did her best."

Brenda examined the image and sighed. "I guess you have a point." She handed the portrait back and then her expression turned stormy again. "But you could have waited until you knew and avoided that mistake entirely! You had years to pick a spirit!"

Wakan Tanka sighed again. "I have existed for a very long time, Brenda. The years pass by like breath on the breeze. You say that I had years. I had but an eye-blink. One eye-blink's duration within which to save you from the fate of your siblings. I think that I did rather well, given the circumstances."

"...I hate you. You are an evil, vile, lazy, manipulative bitch."

"Don't worry. That feeling will fade with time. I'll see to that."

"...You'll what?"

"Oh, nothing, dear. Here, have some tea. I always find that some good magic tea helps to bend victims to my will."

"WHAT?"

Kayda looked at Brenda with a confused expression. "She said that this tea helps to calm your nerves, and it does. You really should drink it. You'll have fewer of these disturbing hallucinations that way."

"I am not having hallucinations! She said she's going to bend me to her will!"

Wakan Tanka frowned. "I said no such thing. I never bend people to my will. That is what tea is for."

"Just drink it," said Kayda encouragingly. "The tea makes everything better, I promise."

Brenda's eyes widened, then she leaped to her feet and turned to run, only to bounce off the side of a large white bison. His many gold chains rattled in the night as he slowly shook his head at the trembling girl, then pawed the ground with minor agitation. "Drink your tea, foo!"

Tia frowned at the package that was waiting for her in her mail slot. “Now what did Ibby send me?” she muttered, ears drooping slightly as various potential gifts flashed before her eyes, each more expensive and/or slutty/embarrassing then the last. With shaking hands she carried it up to her room and shut the door firmly.

Ripping open the envelope that had been taped to the box Tia flipped open the folded sheet of paper, beginning to realize that the gift (?) wasn't from Ibby. The printed note read “Not every rabbit needs to be a Bunny. But then again I am splitting hares” it was signed with what looked like a long clawed paw print.

“What?” she asked out loud cocking her head, curious now. It was a matter of moments she had the first box open. In where paperbacks, and running her finger over the spines she read the titles out loud “Red Wall, Salamandastron, The Long Patrol?” Confused and intrigued Tai pulled one out at random and found a section had been bookmarked. Opening to that section she settled back on her bed to read.

Later Hikaru poked her head into Tia's room as the long eared girl hadn't been seen for several hours and hadn't answered her phone. “Tia? Are you ok? You missed lunch, and you haven't picked up your phone.”

“Hmm? Oh, sorry, I got reading and lost track of time.”

“I see.” the Japanese girl said as she padded further into Tai's room to find several paperback scattered on the floor. Picking one up she saw the cover depreciated a large badger. “Hmm, this reminds me of one of the other Avatars in my class. What was he going by? Hoka, his code name is Hoka.”

(Two weeks of very limited internet made me go a little nuts. Enjoy)
First Day

"Hey Toni," Nikki said looking over her roommates class schedule, "what's this class, Constant Vigilance?"

Turning away from her wardrobe, Toni grinned, "It's a special class Sensei Ito recommended I take this term. It's only three weeks, and I'm the only stud- AAAHHHH!"

Sensei Ito came charging out of the wardrobe, slapped a sticker on Toni's forehead and shouted, "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" before running out of the room.

"What just happened?" Nikki asked, staring wide eyed at the door.

Peeling the sticker from her forehead Toni saw that it said 'Constant Vigilance!' in big red letters. "I think my class just started.

Second Day

"I think I'm getting a handle on this Constant Vigilance class. I managed to avoid Sensei Ito three times this morning," Toni said as she looked over some of the soups available for lunch.

"And how many times did he get you?"

"Two. You wouldn't believe how devious he can be."

The corn soup suddenly exploded outwards as an evil old man jumped out of it, screaming "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" slapping a wet, sticky sticker to Toni's forehead, and ran out of Crystal Hall, leaving a trail of yellow soup behind him.

"Well, I don't think I'm hungry anymore," Nikki said, putting down her bowl of corn soup.

Day 3

Toni peered nervously into the classroom checking all corners, walls, containers and students before moving tiger like to her seat, a set of tonfas at the ready to block any attacks.

She let out a sigh as the English teacher walked in. Once class started she'd be safe from the crazy and evil old man.

A hand slapped a sticker on her forehead, and she was dumped on the floor out of pure shock as her chair turned in to Sensei Ito. "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he shouted as he ran out of the classroom.

Day 14

Toni was ready for anything, her eyes constantly moving, dodging the very dust that blew on the wind as she made her way to her martial arts class. In the last few days the few freshman bullies who didn't know her and thought she would be an easy target at the beginning of the term hadn't made it within ten feet of her before she had them beaten and incapacitated.
But she was terrified of what the psychotic old man would do next.
A twig cracked behind her.
Before she could consciously plan it, she was in a tree that her chi sense showed was free of danger, staring down at the potential attack.
"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" the tree shouted as a branch slapped her forehead.
She jumped to the ground just in time to see Sensei Ito crawl out of a hole in the tree that she hadn't seen, and run away, shedding a branch that covered his arm.

Day 22
Boston
Toni walked casually down the street as the supervillain fired a thousands of bullets at her from a devised machine gun.

"TONI! DUCK!" Nikki shouted from behind her forcefield. "OR AT LEAST RUN AT HIM!"

"Why? This is nothing," Toni said almost sounding bored.

Somehow she made it up to the shooter standing directly in front of the barrel and yet still being missed by the hail of lead. Yawning she knocked him out with a slap.

"How the hell did you do that?" Nikki demanded.

"Constant vigilance," Toni said.

Ten Years Later


"Hey, Valravn, did you see that cute VI?"

"No. Whatever it is that you're thinking, just no. We're just here to make a couple of deliveries."

"We could introduce Igniarli to Tavi!"

"In front of the new White Lady? Of course. That would make everyone's day."

"Of course not. Duh! We wait until she's not looking."

"This is why the alumni association makes a point to lose our address."

"Metro good matchmaker!"

Mrs. Carson's Office
June, 20??
Mrs. Carson sat behind her desk finishing up the last of her year end paperwork for the Board of Trustees. Once she was done, she could start her long awaited vacation. A knock on her door startled her, as Chief Delarose opened the door and walked in.
"Am I bothering you," he asked.
She smiled at him, "Unless you are here to report on an invasion or a student riot, no."
He chuckled, "No invasions, and no riots. The only students left are some 'Thornies that can't leave, the few students that have no place to go, and some that have long term projects down in the labs. I'm just here to say 'goodbye'."
Mrs. Carson stood up and walked around her desk, "I don't remember approving your retiring. It's still sitting in my inbox."
Frank looked at her, from under his greying hair, "Liz you have to approve it. I'm starting to get odd looks. I've been here too long as it is. Ms. Dennon, Mr. Donner and a few others are beginning to ask questions."
Elizabeth stared at him, "I can have a talk to them..."
His laughing cut her off, "Liz, sure you can, you can talk to the whole staff, but rumors will get out. Besides it's just the fact that I am a 'baseline' is what is supposed to keep the kids in line. If it gets out that I am not a baseline, that's out the door."
She sat on the edge of her desk, "So if you are retiring, what do you plan on doing to keep busy?"
Franklin Delarose straightened up and affected a Texan accent, "Well Ma'am, Lt. Jacob McCandles Executive Office First Security Platoon Homestake Academy reporting for duty."
"Jacob McCandles? Aren't you dead?" Liz laughed, "Do you think anyone will get that?"
"Ayla Goodkind did. She was there meeting with their Board of Trustees, or at least reasonable facsimiles of them, when I was interviewed."
Liz jumped off her desk, "I'm going to miss you, Harry." She gave him a big hug, "So do you think that anyone figured out you really are?"
Harry smiled, "Ms. Hartford confronted me after a week, then she fixed all the records so no one else could. She set up the Jacob McCandles IDs too, so I don't have to worry about them."
A tear formed in Mrs. Carson's eye as he left her office, she still had a bit of a crush on her oldest friend.

“All right people; I have some good news, and some bad news.” A red headed Sidhe woman said as she stepped onto the set of 'A Changeling's Tale'. Most of it was green screen though the pool and waterfall where practical props. The actress playing Di'ar let out a soft grumble as she lounged naked in the pool while Lillow's actor was having his animetronic prosthetic adjusted and it's make-up touched up. Trakar's actor was munching on a fruit just off stage.

“Let me guess; the writers still have no idea what my character's powers are?” Di'ar's actress stated.

“Ok, that's enough touching that.” Lillow's actor said shooing away the make up person who had been dabbing at his fake lips. “Vee, this happens way to often. Not that we don't mind trying new things...” he waved down at his movie magic made mixed genitalia. “I'm finding this character rather fun.”

“Yess, well...” Vee stammered.

“Relax Director, we get it.” Trakar's actor said as he slid forward to drape over Lillow's actor's shoulder and kissed his cheek. “Some times the writers have issues and need to see things played out.”

“All right. Well then places people. Di'ar, let's try this like you are.... mmm how about Elemental powers.”

“Just me or all of us?” Di'ar asked as she fell into character and the other two actors took their places.

“Just you. OK, cue practical FX...” the green screen became an forest glade reminiscent of a Tolkin flick, but with a vaguely Alien look to things.

“And action. Cue Berrybelle...”

A small Tinkerbelle like being zipped from the greenery, shouting in a high pitched voice that hurt the trio's ears.

“Whoa, whoa Berry, slow down, none of us can understand you when you talk this fast.” Diar said as she stood, revealing her magnificent molted gray skin. The glowing little woman seemed to take a breath deeper then her little body could hold then released it.

“The village is under attack.” Berry said more slowly. “You have to hurry and go protect it!”

“All right, give me a moment.” Di'ar replied as she stood.

“I ask for the blessing of the Air Court.” Winds swirled around Di'ar's body drying her as she rose into the air, the lighter places on her skin glowing faintly.

“I ask for the blessings of the Earth court.” the young woman intoned. Seconds after she said it crystals and chunks of ore rose from the ground and formed into armor.

“I ask for the blessing of the Fire court.” came next and energy from the sun settled into the gems, and a flick of her wrist sent a fireball into the waterfall.

“I ask for the blessing of the Water court.” This time there was nor real change, but internally her natural healing ability ramped up into overdrive.

“Finally, I ask for the blessing of the Wood court, and call the Wild Hunt!!” All manner of beasts began to call out from the underbrush and several large wolf like beasts flowed out to stand at Di'ar's feet....

“Cut!! Ok, we're gonna save that one, I rather like it. But let's try a few other things first.” Vee said as the FX's faded and Di'ar's actress was lowered on the wires that held her up.

“That one left us in the background with nothing to do.” Trakar's actor commented.

“Yeah, I know.” Vee agreed. “All right, how about all three of you are Magical Beings...”

Trakar's actor face palmed as the wardrobe department brought out the costumes they'd teleport onto the cast. “Ok, that is just.... why does my junk have to be on display? Can't I keep things tucked like it is now?”

“Because you're the Male champion of Love, so...”

“Nope. Not gonna happen.” Trakar's actor said shaking his head.

“Ok, find, Plan B. Same general idea, but you three, prior to this, have been chosen to be the guardians of the planet by an ancient Sidhe spirit.” Vee suggested as the costumes changed into form fitting spandex with helmets.

“Ok, that's better.” Trakar's actor said with a nod.

“Can we some how blend the male costume with the female one for me?” Lillow's actor asked.

“Sure, we can do that. Skirt?” Wardrobe asked.

“How about just around the back? And can we go leg less, show off the fur?”

“You object to some knee high boots?”

“Nope, no objections.”

“Ah, why does mine have a big arse cleavage window?” Di'ar's actress asked. “No, cleavage window doesn't cover an opening that goes from my throat down to just above my bits...”

“Um....”

“You lot are pervs.” Di'ar's actress sighed as the window filled in.

Again the green screens became the forest glade and the trio returned to their marks.

“Ok, let's shoot this! Action!”

Di'ar grimaced as something shimmered in the air, resolving itself into the ethereal face of an Elven woman. “Rangers, you are needed. The village is under attack.”

“Of course it is, it's Tuesday.” Di'ar said as she and the other two stood, golden gauntlets appearing on their wrists. In unison the trio touched the gauntlets and skin tight body armor and helmets appeared on their bodies. Di'ar's was bright red, Lillow's was green, and Trakar's was jet black. “Summon the Zords!!”

“CUT!! Just found out we don't have the budget for any kind of Zords. Can't even do mechanical lions.” Vee pouted. “Di'ar... do what ever you feel like this time,”

Di'ar's actress rubbed her temples. “All right, I have an idea that might be what you're looking for. Let me talk to the FX department for a moment.”

After a brief conversation the actors retook their marks. “Action.”

The scene played out much like the first take, but after Berrybelle the sprite delivered her warning Di'ar rose into the air as darkness flowed from the shadows to cloak her naked flesh. “Arise.” she intoned. The soil rippled as things dug their way free. Soon several skeletons and half decayed bodies where bounding ahead of the flying Di'ar.

“Cut. Ok, we'll get back to you on what scenario we'll flesh out, and we'll go from there.” Vee stated.

Here's a quick 'thank you' to Peter for mentioning GrrlPower. I had been meaning to check out the series out for a while but never got very far in it, until now.

As they watched the folks from Archon and Project Skin Horse return to their respective dimensions (once Molly and Sydney had figured out how to untangle that gateway from the green orb... again...), Journeyman turned to Toni and asked, "Was that really the best way to win your match against Math?"

Chaka shrugged, "You gotta know your opponent's weaknesses, right? Beside, I figured if he was gonna keep staring anyway, I might as well give'em a good look at them."

Mads 'Metro' Jensen looked up from the mirror, convinced that scrying is fueled not by essence, but by sucking all the precious caffeine from the magician's limited body stores. Pretty much like debugging Java code documented in Esperanto. No one actually does that. We were just checking to see who's awake. Some people use Gjuha Shqipe instead.

"Hey, Thomas. You think this'll count towards our scrying homework?"

"I think I'll go out a limb and say no."

"Good thing I asked! Um... Why?"

"Because our homework assignment is on different alchemical traditions."

"Oh."

Thomas 'Valravn' Jensen risked taking a look at what his friend had managed to write down so far. He wished he hadn't.

"Pro tip: Writing 'Hakim Al-Feyez is a poopyhead' in ten different languages does not count for credit."

"Even if it's true?"

"Especially if it's true. He's the guest lecturer that assigned this homework."

"I... don't remember that."

"That was after your chair teleported 10m to the left. Without you. While you were leaning back in it instead of paying attention to class. For you, it was a mild concussion; for the rest of the class it was a Wednesday."

Mrs. Carson's latest call to the DPA:
"Sorry to bother you, Jim, but we've got a bit of problem on our hands. No, this time it is Miss Harrington and Miss Gilman again."

"No, they were warned about letting their powers interact again, but this time it was purely by accident."

"Right now, we still have most of our 'out of town visitors' on campus while the two of them and one of the guests try to figure out how to stop their powers from heterodyning."

"Yes, it is Miss Scoville, again. No, we have Security watching her, we don't think she will get into Berlin this time. The problem is that while they were trying to close the first portal, a second one formed, and a dangerous criminal used it to escape from the authorities on her world."

"We really don't know the details, but from the description given to us by the people from her dimension, she's something along the lines of a Schimmelhorn scientist. No, she's not a mutant, at least not as we understand them, but she did manage to make her way off campus, with a hostage."

"Well, it seems that the hostage is in the form of a gerbil. Yes, more Schimmelhorn stuff, she has him trapped in a small cage. No, he was a gerbil to begin with, someone created him but he does have the ability to transform into a human."

"I am not sure. Mr. Wilkin, a special agent from her homeworld, recommends starting with any dance clubs and vintage clothing stores in the area. No, I am not entirely clear on why,"

Several seconds later, while still talking to DPA

"Hold on, Jim... Gateway, stop making portals in my office!"

"It's not mine!" Molly replied with a squeak. "My portals aren't green !"

An anthropomorphic dog/squirrel hybrid peeked her head out of the opening, and asked, "Hey, Anna, Doreen wants to know if you can make it to Grace's birthday... wait, you're not Aquerna..."

Previously posted in "Tales of the Barman" , the fanfic series it is set in, as well as on the old forum. I can't believe I forgot to re-post this here.

It was around 4:40 on a Friday afternoon, and as usual Xander was getting one last round of Shirley Temples for the four girls who were chittering up a storm at one of the tables. "It's about that time, ladies," he said gently, laying the last of the soda drinks in front of Rhonda . When they'd first appeared, a few months back, he'd agreed to let them stop by from time to time for some non-alcoholic drinks, as long as either one of the older members of their team were with them, or else that they left before 5 PM. Oh, and as long as they made sure that Slappy didn't drink anything stronger than Geritol. He was glad that they never gave him any trouble, as he got the distinct impression that they were a lot more dangerous than they appeared.

The humanoid dog/squirrel hybrid rolled her eyes in the way all teenagers did when told something they didn't want to hear, but she didn't complain. Instead, she said something in that high-pitched language they shared which made Anna, the youngest of them, blush furiously, while Grace seemed confused.

He never did figure out how it was that both Grace and Rhonda were the oldest one of the four at the same time, but since time-travel appeared to be involved, he didn't look into it too closely.

Moments later, as Xander got back to the bar, a mustachioed man in his early thirties wearing what appeared to be a very expensive suit came in and headed towards him. "Hello, I hear your name is Xander Harris, right? I was supposed to join someone here for a business meeting tonight and was told to ask you..."

Just then a gleeful screech came from the girls' table, and the handsome stranger went white as a ghost. "Mr. Stark! Mr. Stark! It's me, Doreen ! Oh wow I can't believe you know this place too this is just soooo awesome you have just got to meet my friends here it is just oh wow..."

And with that, the newcomer was flocked by the younger members of the All-Squirrel Squad.

Agent Dulmer looked at the young woman across from him with a slight frown. She had voluntarily come into the Harrisburg MCO offices for testing, escorted by a power stone using hero called Blazestone as well as two other girls to be tested. Why had he been stuck with the boring one? The others had been a Elf and the other had been like that ineffective Wonder Twin that could only take the form of water. No, the girl he had been stuck with was boring. He'd have given his left nut for her to have at least been an Exemplar babe, but Noooo; she looked like a damned boy. And her power testing had proved rather inconclusive. If it wasn't for the faint mirror like ring around her cornea he'd have dismissed her as a baseline yanking his chain.

“All right miss, what do you want your code name to be?” Dulmer asked as he refocused on the computer before him.

“I want to be called either Alice...” the girl waited as he checked for the name which he signaled was unusable, then suggested “Or Tippetarius.”

“Tippetarius ?” Dulmer asked looking up, his frown deepening. Something about the name was niggeling at the back of his mind, but he couldn't pin it down.

“Sure, it's a character from one of the Wizard of Oz sequel books.” the girl replied brightly.

Dulmer let out a grunt, figuring the mutant was screwing with him some how. “Mkay... Huh, that one is available. Tippetarius it is.” the card printer hummed and spat out the MID, the lamination still warm as he passed it over. “I believe the rest of your party is still undergoing testing. You can go wait for them in the designated waiting area.”

“Thank you Agent.” the girl said with a smile as she pounced out of the room as Dulmer brought out his smart phone and tapped in a quick search for her lit reference.

“Tippetarius, called Tip, was a kitchen boy... who was under a spell... really the princess Ozma, true ruler of the land of Oz?” Dulmer muttered casting a confused look after Jess.

This scene I had to write up before my Muse let me fall asleep last night.

“Geeze Cait, did you have to make the extra dimensional horror cry like a baby while ripping it a new one?” Jericho groused as he covered Sandra, Monica, and Nikki as the three closed a rip in reality a Goth playing with a spell that was beyond their skill had opened. “It was kind of hard to watch.”

“Yes. Yes I did Joe.” tattooed young woman snapped, a hint of the 'baseline' willing to go head to head with the Lamplighter for attacking school children leaking out. “It was trying to sell me a time share in a hell dimension. For the low low cost of kids souls and free will. I just wish it had stuck around long enough for me to shoot it a few times.”

Nikki shivered slightly and shifted in her seat to look down over the edge of the level. Her eyes and mystical senses scanned the floor below before settling on a quartet of freshmen. Two looked to be siblings, maybe even twins, though the girl had blue hair and the boy had brown. Nikki's eyes only paused on them for a moment before being drawn to the violet haired Drow girl standing with them. The Drow girl looked up slowly and Nikki shivered again. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Jobe working herself into a hissy fit over someone somehow copying her formula. Nikki knew though that the girl was not like Jobe's creations but was somehow of true Sidhe blood. The girl radiated something like Nikki's own Royal Glamour, though it had a chill of fear to it rather then the Obey Me vibe the red head's had.

“Woah... I just feel a great disturbance in the force.” Toni breathed as she set her tray down.

“Uhuh.” Nikki breathed as she felt the girl's illusion spell drop, along with what ever was holding back her full aura. Nikki's stomach rolled, and she had a feeling if Aungahadhail had still been with her the ancient Queen would have been raising more of a hissy fit then when Jobe had created his Drow formula. The girl, the Sidhe who looked so Drow like, below was something that SHOULD NOT BE! A glance around informed her that those with a connection to the past had all felt it, even Billie who was over in the food like filling her plate.

The girl seemed to nod to herself before light blossomed through the tights she wore and from the cuffs of her shirt sleeves. She rose into the air, ascending to Nikki's level. Once level with the red headed senior the floating girl just stood there studying her.

“Name your self.” Nikki commanded, an echo of the Queen who Was in her voice.

“I am Di'ar, Descendant of Lady Mab the Third daughter of the Burning Oak, General of the Black Guard...”

“Impossible, Mad had no get.” Nikki found herself saying as a fragment of Aung's memories kicked loose. “And the Black Guard destroyed in the Sundering.”

Di'ar's eyes narrowed. “And yet your blood resonates with mine, so you know it is true my cousin. The General lived through the Sundering, unlike the wisps of the spirit I can sense clinging to you cousin. The Black Guard and Mab retreated through a Way before the End to defend what had been entrusted to them.”

“That does not explain the... taint I detect within you.” Nikki said softly.

“You two do realize you're causing a scene right by chatting rather loudly about stuff you might not want others knowing about?” a red haired bespectacled girl said, causing the pair of Sidhe to jerk in surprise.

“Val, what...?” Di'ar asked, realizing her step cousin was clinging upside down from a support beam and wearing a costume that was some how a blending of Harlequin's classic black and red skin tight and Janet Van Dyn's yellow and black Wasp costume.

Val shrugged as she pointedly looked at Di'ar. “And you forgot to wear panties today Di. People are getting an eye full...” she paused and sent a wad of hot pink and neon green webbing to splatter all over Peeper's face and Greasy's camera lens.

Val blinked and looked down at her hand, which was still curled in the three fingered squirt gesture Spidy used to trigger his shooters. “Huh, didn't think that would work. Anyway, Hi I'm Val, aka Skinz with a 'Z'. I saw you around Poe while me and Tip,” she pointed to the blue haired girl who's brother was doing his best to project 'I don't know them...' with his body language, “where moving in this morning. I can tell whatever this is.” she flicked her pointer finger from one girl to the other, “is important, but I'm hungry, and this really feels like a 'do it in private' talk. So, nice meeting you Red, and come along Di.”

Val leaped from the beam and in mid air seemed to shrink down to doll size as her outfit shifted to look like the Wasp's complete with wings. A line of webbing shot from her body and stuck to Di'ar's butt, causing the mini woman to drag her along behind as she bee... wasp-lined for the food line.

“At least we can be sure Poe's cover is gonna be well maintained.” Toni mused as Billie ambled up with her heaping trays. “So what was that about?” Toni asked as Billie's tray thumped down on the table top.

“She has the same vibe as Nikkie began giving off after her Blood Bonding with Sara. Sort of.” Billie offered before Nikkie could explain. The red headed Queen's eyebrows went up in surprise. “You and that girl are quasi-Class X entities.” Billie explained as she smushed down a burger as tall as her forearm small enough for her to get her mouth around. “It's a vibe that makes me hungry.”

“So Nikkie's the one at fault for you eating whole herds of meat creatures at one go?” Toni quipped with a smirk.

“Kinda, sorta...” Billie replied around her burger, blushing slightly.

Nikkie let out a sigh as she massaged her temples. “Her claim to be descended from the Black Watch's general is troubling.”

“Why's that?”

“Because they guarded the Five Fold's equivalent of ARC's Black Sector.”

“Oh.” Toni said softly blinking. “And some how some of that badness leaked out and...”

“Yeah, we need to keep an eye on her and her friends, least we have another Bastard or Necromancer rise up.”

At another table Sandra was shaking her head as she watched Val pull Di'ar after her. “Joe, I think we may have found your successor for the title of Whateley's Worst Wardrobe...”

“Cool. I can pass on some of my favorites that I've outgrown.” Joe replied with an evil grin.

A lone figure sent the signal out. "IT HAS TO BE NOW. GATHER IN 20 MINUTES. LOCATION BETA."

Shortly after the message was sent, five figures clad completely in black stood beneath a window outside the building. A window was silently opened and a sixth figure in black slowly drifted from the window and one by one, brought the five from below into the room.

The room was a bit cramped, as now seven figures, six in head to toe black clothing and a seventh in civilian clothes went over the details of their mission. Some of the group could hardly be called friends, but for this job, they would be united. Individually, they had failed over the past several months, but as a group, the plan would be executed with thorough precision. They couldn't afford to fail. Not this time.

"Are you certain? We'll only have one chance at this," the first asked for confirmation.

"I saw what was put in there, in a little over four hours it will be gone unless we extract it first," a breathy voice answered.

"Okay," a third figure stated. "Let's go over our equipment. Container, check. Countermeasures?"

"Check," the breathy voice answered, holding a small padded bag with multiple compartments to account for every eventuality.

"Tools for access?"

"Check," a fourth voice responded. The first figure mused that you could hear the smirk through the mask.

"Substitutes?"

"Check," confirmed a fifth voice, lifting a canvas bag.

"Cleanup and disposal?"

"Check," responded the sixth figure, floating slightly off the floor, carrying a dropcloth and a large black plastic bag.

"Okay, that's everything." The third figure looked at the seventh, conspicuously lacking the comparable height of the other six. "Overwatch?"

"Check. Short, Short, Long, Short, Short from the countermeasure equipment and the rest of you abort. Send the signal that it's complete and I'll get what we need," the seventh chirped.

"Okay team, we start in 2 minutes, and extract in 25. Every knows what they need to do, so let's maintain silence." The group of seven nodded and double checked their gear.

"Clear," stated the seventh in grim seriousness. They were enjoying this a little too much, considering, thought the fourth figure.

The six slinked into the hallway from the room. Well, five slinked, one floated. Thankfully, they'd planned well, the target room was directly adjacent from their staging area.

The fourth figure glanced up and down the hallway as the others pressed themselves on either side of the door. It was clear. The figure removed a glove, revealing an unnaturally pale hand with an immaculate manicure. The first figure was definitely going to ask her where she had gotten it done, or if she had done it herself when this was all over. The pale hand grasped the door handle and it unlocked with a gentle click. They were in. Five slid into the room with almost no noise, thanks to their soft-soled shoes. The sixth figure dropped the ground and walked into the room behind them.

In the room, the group worked quickly, wary that at any moment they might receive the warning from the overwatch and flee through the window. The second figure removed various things from the satchel, trying them one after another. This is where a few of their members had failed before. They hadn't known the number of sensors and surveillance equipment in the room in case of exactly the type of intrusion they were now performing as a collective. A devisor really was a key to this operation, the only way it could succeed. A few whirrs and clicks from the devices as the group stood still and tense.

"Clear," announced the breathy voice.

The sixth figure quickly planted the dropcloth to speed any clean up the group might require. That completed, the group looked at their target. The gentle hum of the machine belied the value of the contents within. The group looked to the second figure again, who nodded. The second figure planted a device on the door of the machine. It made an ascending whine before the snap of a relay went off within it. It was open.

The third figure placed the container on the dropcloth, appearing to be a large, multi-layered bento box at the same moment that the first figure examined, then cautiously opened the machine. Within, white containers obscured their contents.

The fifth figure arranged the substitutes on the dropcloth, so the group could work in tandem. One after another, the replacements were opened, plastic and metal placed carefully into the bag held by the sixth figure. The containers were opened one by one, the contents placed in the layers of the bento box container the group had brought to obscure the extraction.

The group had known there was a weight sensor, one that their devisor would be unable to disable, so as each white container was extracted, the contents were replaced with the substitutes they had brought with them, acquired many weeks prior for just this opportunity.

Spaghetti went into the first container. Ravioli went into the second through the fourth (the group weren't monsters...it was the best of what they brought to replace their prizes). The fifth was filled with something labeled as lasagna, but resembled anything but. A horribly named concoction of macaroni, tomato paste and meat sauce went into the next. Round pasta and meatballs went into the next after that.

And at last, they had found what they had come for. The second to last container was opened, revealing a full Mille-feuille. The contents were replaced with chocolate-covered, cream-filled roll cakes extracted from their cardboard box and plastic wrappers. Goal accomplished, the group elected to leave the last container as is.

The first figure quickly reassembled the bento box, and the dropcloth was gathered by the other four, into the bag held by the sixth. The first figure signaled back to their seventh member that their goal was accomplished. The fourth figure grabbed some supplies from the room before she left, to secure her alibi. Toothbrush, toothpaste, and a sample-size container of mouthwash. She was at the highest risk, so the group had no objections. The group waited for a response signal that the hallway was clear again, before slipping back into their staging area.

The seventh member dashed down the hallway as the six removed their black clothing, depositing it into the black plastic bag, now bulging with the evidence of their operation. The sixth figure took the loaded bag, and sedately obliterated it with her powers. Then, one by one, she deposited the other five back onto the grass below their window of Poe Cottage. Securing the window from the outside, the sixth figure landed amid her conspirators. Thankfully, it had been a green flag day. The operation would have been much harder, and their alibis less secure, had it been a yellow flag day. A red flag day would have made it nearly impossible.

The seventh figure ran around the corner of the building, her small arms carrying a folded cloth. "I got the picnic blanket!" she squealed in delight. Her other hand held a small box of disposable forks, spoons, and knives. The seven unlikely allies smiled at a job well done, and headed toward the lake to enjoy the late summer weather, their prize in tow.

Evening meal, Euro-Promotional League table, Crystal Hall


"Did anyone else 'ear that one of the freshman devisors specializes in distilling liquor? What is the world coming to?"

Considering that Adalie's family has been in the business of making fine brandy for some time, surely she could be excused for rating something like that as highly an outrage as global pollution or Brass Monkey.

Metro piped up, "Does that include rhum, by any chance? I need to get my hands on a bottle or two, and fresh scotch bonnet peppers too, for Fet Gede. Oh! Adalie, do you know if Ayla could help me explain to the cooks what would be good to have on-hand if my cousin shows up?"

Several people at the table stopped eating as the words sunk in. A couple looked over to Valravn to see how strongly he'd object to the insane plan being hatched. Instead he just looked up, "If? Mads, since you've been introduced, when has your cousin skipped out on All Saints' or Imbolc?" Thomas took another bite of his meal before going on, "Are you sure you'd want to serve devisor booze? That sounds ..."

"They say that some of `Shine's products can even affect Exemplars!"

" ... dangerous enough for the two of you. Never mind. Workshop coffee too?"

"Nej, that would be for me, and for poor Rorsmand who looks to be in shock." The Danish magician cocked his head as if inspecting the other boy for damage.

Cytherea was now becoming intrigued by the conversation, "Who is this cousin of yours? Those do not sound like Danish customs."

"She goes by Brigitte now. We're distantly related through, em, it's really complicated." Thomas smirked as he leaned over to whisper something in Mads' ear. "Don't. You. Dare. tell him that, unless you want to wake up wearing a dog collar!"

oops.

"That didn't come out right, did it?"

Cryptic wrote: Should not Do lists are something we should not give my Muse...
Things Mr. Welch Is Not Allowed to Do in an RPG

1513. I will not shoot a Great Old One just to say I did it.
~*~

“Um, excuse me Mr Gothmog... but can I shoot you just so I can say I have? It would give me a lot of street cred with the Goobers. And I think they're the reason your daughter is missing...”

Slowly, gently, Gothmog untied the ingenious web of rope and knots he'd so painstakingly tied earlier. He finished with a soft kiss to his sweet rifleman's forehead.

"Code Duello, love. The challenged party chooses the weapons. I'll be looking forward to the rematch."

Cryptic wrote: 2121.  Elves Drow also do not secrete a foul tasting oil when threatened.
~*~

Jobe eyed the slip of paper someone had a fixed to his lab door. “I don't see the point of the ink squirting, but a fear sweat based defensive measure isn't a bad idea..”

Metro handed Jobe the packaged cheek swab, hazmat label, runes, and all. "I love the idea for approximating almond oil. But trust me on this, you want voluntary control added to the piloerection reflex, and non-absorbant sheets for those occasions." At the inner door to the lab he turned to add, "Oh! I almost forgot: the sequence also renders areolar glands a bit hyperresponsive, but who'd complain about that?"

Jobe was still trying to task-switch from staring in shock to swearing in outrage, as the freshman cycled back out through doors his security system still claimed to be locked.

“So Mrs. Hair Lady said I had to come in here and help you with your leg?”

The blonde girl looked around at the door from the military textbook on her lap. Andrea Elsner was a relatively “cute” tomboy, shorter than the average girl, even in her sophomore year, yet looking closely, you could see she had been working on a fairly defined set of lean muscle. She almost looked out of place in a white tank top and blue jeans, sitting in the hospital bed, a cast over her foot, instead of her usual uniform, either the standard school one when required, or a set of BDU's when not.

By contrast, the girl with waist-length pony-tailed red hair kept in check with a green tiara at the door was positively adorable, a rather easy task given that she looked to be only around seven or eight years old, and dressed as one might expect. A green pleated cotton “Princess” dress, with accompanying white leggings, black Mary Jane shoes and white opera gloves, gave the impression of a girl still in a love affair with Disney's clothing. An adult nurse in green scrubs followed behind her.

“You? You're a healer? Holy shi...” It soon became clear that the only reason Andrea wasn't swearing her head off was the fact she thought she was talking to an eight year old. “fffffff, doc, it's not like I don't want my foot better, but surely there's somebody older that could do this?” As she raised the blanket so the girl could look closer, the nurse began checking the various machines for her statistics, while the little girl cringed. “Mummy said I'm not meant to be called 'Doc' or “Doctor” or anything like that. Said it was special, for people who earned it. People who went through training. IT'S NOT FAIR. I should'a earned it by now. Been healing people for years, bah.” A rather “Muttley from Wacky Races” like grumble came from her throat.

“Ceilidh, you're a mutant healer who lacks any empathy or esper sense to tell you what's actually wrong with the patient. And your paragon talent doesn't cover this. You don't get to have a special term like that until you train enough to recognise why somebody is hurt, same as your mother did. We've had this conversation three times in as many weeks now.” The nurse replied, having placed her notes in the clipboard, and inspecting the foot herself.

“I'm a stronger healer than Mummy! I'm more powerful than her, and I can be the strongest healer ever! It's not fair! I should be a doctor!” The little girl cried, while placing her hand on the older girl's ankle. A bright light emerged around her hand, and about five seconds later, Andrea let out a gasp of surprise and relief, as her fractured ankle and shattered shin knit themselves back together. “Can I rip this cast apart for her, or do you babysitters need to check my work again? I must've healed about a huntred of these by now...”

“Wow, thanks. That feels great Doc.”

“Mummy said I'm not alloweded to be called Doc” the little girl muttered...

Doyle Medical Center, room 119

“So Mrs Hair Lady says you need help with your... oh. Hi.”

The blond page boy hair twirled with how fast the long, rectangular face snapped to the door, the greenish-gold eyes scowling at its entrant, nostril's flaring and jaw set in anger. “What, in the world, are you doing here? Come to gawk at your fiendish friends' handiwork? Hmmm?” Bobby 'Iron Star' Hastings was most decidedly, not amused to see the little girl at the door. How dare Doyle medical center even consider making use of such an obviously mentally perverted and devious criminal in the making? She'd already been known to cripple two men, one to the point that he'd likely never wake again! It was obvious that she was the stereotypical Bad Seed, just biding her time before she became a villain like her father!

The fact that said 'crippled beyond saving' victim WAS her aforementioned supervillain father, and that she'd immediately called the authorities after crippling him, or that she'd only been able to cripple him in response to him performing his villainy to her, was all lost on Bobby. No, to Bobby, it was an outrage that little Ceilidh 'Siofra' McKenzie (and what kind of a code-name was 'Siofra' anyway?) was allowed outside of some form of ultra-max prison for dangerous powered individuals. Let alone to be at Whateley. Appearance of being an adorable eight year old or not, he knew a hardened criminal mind when he saw one.

“No, you're not here to gloat, you're here for some devious plot, aren't you? Well? I'm onto your games little Missy! I'll expose your evil deeds, I swear it!”

“That's enough Mr Hastings. Miss Siofra is here as a student worker, not a detention. Your injury is non-critical, and you're being abusive. To a girl who is almost literally half your size. As a junior high student, she's more than allowed to walk straight back out that door if she pleases, and with the weekend field-trip, the next time for a healer to get to you is Monday afternoon. Politeness would be most becoming of a hero right now, don't you think?” The male nurse in green scrubs pointedly pointed out.

“Only those not in life-threatening danger? So even when making use of her filthy talents, Doyle at least sees her for what she is. A criminal and a villain.” The boy retorted angrily and hastily.

“Or that they see that I'm a phobic UV rager, which means my rages are caused by being scared of things, and I'm scared of the ICU?” The little girl curtly spat. “I'm not forced to do this, and you're a big mean poopyhead, so you can have fun with your ruptured butthole for the next week. Dave, I'll be waiting outside the next room. Bye.”

With that, she turned on her heel, and stomped out the room. “Boy, if the weekend of having it burn when you shit and piss doesn't spell it out for you, you just massively messed that up. You know that, right?” Dave said, as he checked the charts.

“I'm going to kill Nephandus, I swear it.” The boy muttered through clenched teeth. “...Wait, did she just called me a poopyhead?” A cold sweat starting running down the boy's back, as he considered that yes, she did look to be the right age to be finding things.... “Cute”...

Doyle Medical Center, Room 120

Jericho sat dejectedly in the room at Doyle, looking at his hastily bandaged hand. A very slight mistake with his laser dermal, caused as he was overreaching for his coffee cup, knocking it over, and he had managed to cut a huge gash in his palm. As he waited, he racked his brain trying to remember the school's healers. His friend Band-Aids had graduated, Sandra and Rich were both in detention, Fae was still causing too many hobgoblins to be allowed to work as a healer, even if she wouldn't have preferred the modelling. He didn't think Kayda was being asked to heal any male students, if she did heal anyone. He knew Cascade still refused to do a stint in the A&E section, Seraphim wasn't working in Doyle AT ALL due to the sympathetic reactions of her angels and Lifeline was still being barred due to the circumstances of her failed combat final, that he was purposefully trying to not be learning the details of.

He didn't personally know of any of the other healers or even any mages capable of performing more than the basest of base healing spells in the school, but he did know that most of them were still pissed off with him, either because of his clothes or his war with Wondercute. He'd only started fighting them to engage them with some light-hearted revelry and silly fun, which he felt he needed after Darwin, but it'd gone too serious and too far so fast. By now it seemed like it was almost a real cross-campus grudge fight.

He wondered who he'd have to take attitude from to get his hand fixed, when the door opened revealing someone he didn't know. But he didn't have high hopes from the start. Too young to even be a freshman, if this girl was to choose between him and Wondercute, not even he would put money on himself.

“So Mrs Hair Lady said you had something wrong with your hand? What seems to be the whag?!? Heee, heheheheheheh, hehehehehehehheheheh, hahahahahahhahahha!!”

The small, elementary school sized red-headed little girl in a purple “Disney Princess Belle” style dress, high opera gloves with a familiar red and black armband, and white tights with Mary Jane shoes, carrying an open flask on a neck leash. She had been reading from a comic book when she entered the room, flanked by a tall, heavily muscled male nurse in green scrubs. As she turned to look from her book to her patient, she gasped in shock, and then began giggling, before guffawing madly, before engaging in full blown “Wicked Witch from the West” style cackling.

The slightly tired looking nurse swore, then pulled her head back, grabbed the open flask by dropping his clipboard full of paperwork, and upended it into her open mouth. She was so busy laughing, she didn't even notice the potent devisor-made sedative flowing down her throat, until her gag reflex kicked in and she sputtered some back out. Enough had gotten through though, that within seconds, her eyelids drooped, she swayed, and then fell to the ground. The cackling only stopped when her head rebounded off the tile, the bruise forming, then disappearing instantly, as she lost consciousness.

Sitting on the bed, dressed in one of his most eye-turning outfits yet, mismatched colours and patterns aplomb, featuring a tye-dye shirt that had splotches of fluorescent yellows, luminous greens, blood reds and angry oranges, a set of plaid trousers in similar colours, ribbons and bangles aplenty, among other trinkets, all arranged to be as vomit-inducingly, painfully eye-searing hideous as possible, Jericho looked stunned.

“Goddammit Jericho, when seeing your clothing causes the danger-trigger ragers to freak out, you need to knock that shit off! We're running out of the stuff that'll affect her as it is!”

Woods outside Dickinson, Saturday Evening

“Please Runic, you have to help me! Your sister is driving me crazy! If it's not 'tea party' this or 'play with me' that, she's running around with her stupid stuffed animals! I haven't been able to study in the room since term started!” Maggie Finson pleaded, her hands almost pulling out her blonde hair.

“Well Lifeline, you should have thought of that before doing whatever you did to piss Carson off this much. What did you do anyway?” Leanna 'Runic' McKenzie haughtily enquired. She sat on top of a low hanging branch, holding out some nuts for some of Aquerna's squirrels. She didn't really care, but when she'd watched out the window, she'd thought it was nice to see the little rodents behaving for their 'big squirrel', so she'd decided to help the little underdog out with feeding them.

“She's been... forbidden me to tell anyone, but it's clear she's just taking that... that beast's side. As if moving me out of Whitman and in with your crazy sister wasn't enough, I'm having to look after all the little brats! Please, you must know some way to get her to shut up?”

“Well, I know one clear method. You won't like doing it though. Of course, you could just get some good headphones, or use the library.”

“I already tried headphones. She tried shaking me when she thought I was ignoring her, and she says it was an accident, but I'm not so stupid to believe she didn't mean to damn near yank my arm off. And use the library? Half of the stupid cheerleaders are usually just lounging around in there, and they're... not forgetting the ex-Whitman thing....”

“You won't like it.”

“I'm going nuts here, listening to her and her little friends. I swear I've never seen such obnoxious children. Please.”

“Do it wrong, and you'll be in deep trouble. It's not a good idea to do repeatedly, and you're liable to get caught.”

“Please, Runic, I'm begging here. I just want some peace and quiet in the room.” Leanna huffed, dropping the rest of the nuts into the foliage, and jumped off the branch, coming face to face with the native American girl.

“Provoke her into a rage. Then heal her. She's been conditioned to radiate her healing when she herself gets healed, then she collapses into eight hours of sleep. Good luck though. Personally I'd just put up with the tea party. That is, after all, why you're taking over from Tansy, looking after the little children, right?”

“Huh?” Maggie's face had fallen flat, and she'd turned slightly pale at the mention of being near a rager.

"Told you that you wouldn't like it.

Crystal Hall, Sunday Evening,

“Hi Steven! Having fun? Bye Steven!”

The various members of the nerd herd craned their necks to see who was addressing one of them, and almost all turned back to their meals with a dejectedly morose sigh. Normally, any one of them would be happy for their friends if they'd been able to get the attention of any of the pretty exemplar girls. None of them were happy to see an exemplar girl who was still a pre-teen, in a sparkling princess dress, or her similarly attired junior high friends. Most of them were quite relieved as the girls carried on walking, over to sit next to another of their age group.

“Dude, it's still fucked up that she doesn't hate you.” Edward 'Kludge' Williams spat with disgust, looking towards his fellow 'mobility challenged' roommate with daggers.

“You've said this before, it's getting old news Edward. Steven, finish your food, I can't be fucked with this argument again.” Sebastian 'Montana' Terwilliger thundered. Steven just looked down and attacked his spaghetti bolognaise with a renewed vigor, happy to have an excuse not to talk, but Kludge remained glaring at him.

“Nah, Monty, it's fucked up. And I'm not dropping it. I want this scumbag out of MY room. I don't feel comfortable sleeping there with him!” The misshapen boy barked. Several of the table went uneasy, as Kludge was somewhat fingering the button on his upgraded wheelchair that controlled the micro-missles he'd installed back in January. Just as the tension was getting thick enough to cut with a knife, Steven swallowed, hard, and looked up.

“You know what Ed? Screw you. I had a visit from Blotter earlier, and he said something interesting. Apparently, you give me any shit about my serums, I'm supposed to ask why you couldn't get it up with 'The Blonde', and why, I quote, 'A choice piece of ass like her would even be doing anything with Ed in the first place.' So tell me Ed, who's 'The Blonde' ?”

Kludge's face fell, and a look of shame came over it, as it did almost all of the sophomore and junior year twain boys. Instead of answering, Kludge shoved his tray forwards, and in lieu of stomping off in a huff, ran his chair at almost swerving speeds trying to get away from the table.

Steven looked around the table, at the looks of shame, and asked in a small voice “So... how bad was it?”

“He's not going to forgive that in a hurry man. More the first bit than the second. Hella issues there dude. And it's not something we should discuss in public. Short story? For a week or two, most of the cottage thought we had had a lucky break. That we were allowed to taste the good life. Then Thuban's girlfriend oversaw some of us looking over the pictures, and reminded them that they'd kinda... been the monsters they look like.” Harry 'TechWolf' Wolfe said, in a low voice.

“....So... Blotter told me to shut Ed up... by reminding him he's worse than me?”

“Essentially. Even worse, his body betrayed him by failing to perform, so there's the further shame of that. And hell, all of you were just piggybacking on my justice. So shut yer traps. And Wolf, I don't even wanna hear you start. Doesn't matter if you were with the 33 that day, you'd have dabbled, so shut up and eat.” Monty laid down the topic, deftly. Nobody saw fit to counter him.

When he was done with his food, instead of waiting for the others as usual, Steven 'Capsule' McKenzie picked up his crutches, and began hobbling over to his cousin's half-sister.

A farm in Syria

Eliza knew that this would be the day she died.

It didn't seem fair. She'd only ever tried to do her best, and to love her parents as much as she loved God. In these final moments, it just didn't seem fair though. All her life, she'd never taken in just how unfair it was. Even when the rains stopped, and the farms struggled, she'd never considered it. Her family had been lucky when the devils first came through the town, and had been ignored. She knew a lot of people had run away, to the west. She'd seen on the TV, back when it worked, the opulent life lived by those godless heathens in the west. She hadn't really cared though, since she knew that their world could never be her world. Her father had taken the fact they'd been ignored by the devils as a sign that they'd be fine to stay.

“They're through there! They're hiding in the storeroom.”

“Don't let them escape!”

She could hear the devils approaching. It was the third time they'd come to her village, and they weren't ignoring her family any more. She knew they wanted to kill her, just because she read from a different book than them. This somehow made her unclean, and therefore deserving of death, or worse. That had never made sense to her. All three of the major holy books said to love each other, so it didn't make sense that people hated and killed each other.

And... just... why... her... ?

She'd always done her best, tried to live a good life, as it said to in the holy books. Well, in the holy book her parents read to her. She knew there were other holy books, but her parents told her they were false.

She knew that the people who read from those books, said the same thing about the holy book her parents read from. Worse, she knew that they were nicer about it, claiming that although the mighty Yeshua the Anointed was indeed a prophet, he wasn't the final prophet. Eliza didn't know why, but that sounded better than what her parents said about Mohammed. (Eliza still wasn't sure if she should add the 'Peace be upon him remark' that the Muslims added. Eliza knew they also added it to Yeshua the Anointed, but she didn't know if she should be adding it in return. Her father hadn't answered that question when she asked, instead reminding her that she had to help plough the grain fields.) It had almost seemed... rude when her father dismissed Mohammed as merely a crazy warlord who grew up surrounded in many religions, and many gods, and he decided to justify his conquest by claiming he had spoken to the divine, though he hadn't.

Was there ever even a way to know for sure, who had spoken to the divine? Yeshua the Anointed had lived twenty hundred years ago, and Mohammed had lived fourteen hundred years ago. Neither had actually written anything themselves, nor left any physical evidence that still existed. Everything was second hand accounts, or even third hand if some of the westerners were right. Who could say if what was written was what was said at the time?

So Eliza had decided that she would just try to be the best little girl she could be, and not worry about any of that. She'd remember the sermons, and remember what parts she had to say and do to be accepted, but she decided she wouldn't think about that stuff. It seemed like the church leader thought about it enough for everyone anyway, and she was just a little girl. The church father could read, even the difficult words of the holy books! She knew she didn't need to know how to read any more than the directions of the instructions in the cook book, or the road signs so she could help take the cattle to the market.

“They've locked the door! Bring up the battering ram!

Eliza hugged her sister Ruth closer, huddled as they were behind the pots. She knew that if they had gotten this far, then her father, her uncle, and her two brothers were already dead. Even little Thomas, young enough that he could barely lift the pistol. They had stayed at the entrance to the barn, hiding inside, to hold the entrance to the bunker with the family's rifles. It made her feel empty. She'd never be able to hug father again, or to share in the eucharist, or read over David's shoulder as he taught Thomas to pronounce the words.

She knew that if they were banging in the pantry door, then her mother was also dead. She'd stayed in the kitchen proper with Eliza's two aunts, hiding the girls in the bottom of the pantry, with sacks of grain between them and the door. It was uncomfortable, being squeezed in, but Eliza knew that it could save them if the devil men looked inside.

As she heard the ram smash open the door, and heard the arabic shouts obscenities about her mother's purity, followed by the boom, Boom BOOM of the shots she knew that her beloved mother was no more. She wanted to cry, but knew that she couldn't afford to make the noise, or the devil men would find her and Ruth as well.

Ruth... was too young... to share her concern as deeply.

“What was... in there! In THERE!”

The door was wrenched open, and the sacks removed, and Eliza was dragged out, and thrown across the kitchen.

The blood was everywhere. All over the cooking pots, all over the table. Where her mothers body was. The source of the blood. Eliza couldn't hold it anymore. She didn't need to hide from the devil men, because she was already found. The tears formed in her eyes, and she sobbed, the first of many, as the dam broke and she wept over her mother's corpse, no longer caring that the devil men were raising their guns at her.

She heard Ruth's voice, but she didn't care.

She was about to die. The devil men would shoot her, as she cradled her poor mother's body. It was coming. Any second now. It would come, and she would find out which of the holy men were right about what comes after.

Any second now.

It would come.

Any time now.

“E... Eliza, help me. We have to go. We have to go and meet the Western men. The one in the suit... he'll take care of us now.”

Ruth... Ruth was shaking her. She wasn't dead. She also wasn't in the kitchen.

Where was she? And why... why were her hands the colour of pure snow?

Because my own humor is just that twisted:

---

Later that evening, Back at the Bat Clinic

"Well, Jericho, this could be your lucky day after all!" The forced smile on the nurse's face didn't do much to encourage the boy - they'd obviously had to scrape the bottom of the barrel to avoid stapling ligaments and stitching skin back together. Conventional surgery was tried and true, but the healing time plus physical therapy would cut deeply into the gadgeteer's ability to complete his schoolwork.

Ignoring the boy's grimace - it was his fault Siofra couldn't help, after all - the nurse continued, "It turns out that Generator had one of her devises available to be recalibrated for hand injuries. Something about it being a good thing that her stomach wasn't making the rumblies - the kind only hands satisfy? Someone from Security is bringing it over now, so let's make sure the wound is clean."

A few minutes later, Joe Turner was treated to the cheerful sight of Officer Jensen carrying a sealed case marked "Sterile Medical Equipment - Do Not Open Until Needed", in crayon, and still-drying glitter glue. He'd thought his fate couldn't get worse until the rent-a-cop started scrubbing up. Wracked by visions of doom and disability, he didn't even notice the nurse bring in a sterile tray suited to minor injuries or that said rent-a-cop really was scrubbing up.

"I know there's a doctor on the floor this time of the day. Are there orders for an IM muscle relaxant? I can get Jericho back to Twain if that's an issue." Whispered to the patient, "They get all upset if I just slip the injured some painkillers. I've even got my own injectors!"

Oh, god. They were really going to do this. Mall cop field surgery, Wondercute medical devise, and all.

Removing the devise from the now-opened case, when did that happen?, "Handy Handlady: Activate!"

"Activated."

It's Official. The Universe hates him.

The next several minutes were filled with a barrage of medical jargon even the medtech-oriented patient had trouble following. Soon, but not soon enough, the horror show was over.

"Generator does good work. I'll need to tell her that some time. Handy Handlady: De-activate!"

Once the expended disk fell off, all Jericho had to show for it was a reddened mark, some sore muscles, and a Hello Kitty! styled hand brace.

"You still want to use the hand as little as possible for the next 24 hours. Don't worry, we've already sent notifications that you'll be wearing this to your House Parent, and to your Workshop instructors in case you want to work on projects over the weekend."

Jericho thought that was the end of it, but as always there was still paperwork to sign off on, and so forth. Just outside the Clinic doors, he felt a slap on the back of his left shoulder.

"Good going, Jericho. You handled that like a true trooper!" Auxiliary Security Officer Not-A-Frickin-Mall-Cop Jensen loudly announced. The short bastard gave him a tilted half-smile and a thumbs-up before heading off to wherever mall cops go on campus.

Not too much later, Mama Turner's loud-mouthed son had heard enough laughing behind his back to stop and take stock of where his wardrobe had gone wrong:

• Company (blue) Shirt
• Company Badge
• Company Patch
• Company Tie
• Duty Belt
• Black Pants
• Black socks
• Shined black shoes

And a fused hand and wrist brace, with metallic glitter complementing the Sanrio motif.

Ballistic-grade rip-stop cloth for the conjoined shirt and pants meant that Jericho should be damned glad that the "mall cop" comment had not been bad enough to skip the front-to-back three-way zipper. Finding out how a freshman would know about such things would have to wait for his so-called "friends" to stop laughing.

Doyle Medical Center, room 120, Friday afternoon, November

Danny sat in the room in Doyle, waiting for this supposed healer to come. He could have gone to his sister, he supposed, but he didn't want to. If only because she'd either berate him for ignoring his spirit again, or because she'd find it funny where he was hurt. He felt like killing Gauntlet for pulling on Wihinape's tail, the damage of which had still remained in his human form, while attempting to shoving his claw where... No, best not to even think about it.

“So, Mrs Hair Lady said that you hurt your tailbone or something?”

The sound of the door opening caused Danny to break completely from the spirit world, where he was studiously ignoring Wihinape berating him for his abysmal performance in the fight. He gazed at the door, where a little red-headed girl looked like a picture in a pink princess dress, a pink tiara, and black Mary-Janes. Wihinape noted to him in a non-vocalised whisper, that her white under-shirt, opera gloves and tights made it so that the only open skin she was showing was on her neck and head. He didn't know what, but that symbolised something.

Inwardly, he cringed. He hadn't had much luck with the other junior high students. Okay, the goth silver-haired girl hadn't given him a second look, much less of a first. But the rest had been some of the worst offenders in what he was coming to consider the “Evil Petting People” - those girls who couldn't resist stroking him or touching him if he was the slightest bit furry. It was really starting to rankle – He had been told, both by PSA's by the school and by 'being raised right' by his parents, that he shouldn't touch girls in an overly familiar way if they didn't like it. So why couldn't the girls return the consideration?

Gender equality was sometimes somewhat loose, he thought.

“Well, what's the cringe-face for? Did you hurt your tailbone, or not Kitty-boy? You want to tell me where I should heal?” The little girl seemed slightly... vexed.

“You... you don't want to pet me first?” Danny was shocked. He had shifted to his half-kitty form, lacking the tail but having fuzzed up. It'd been the most comfortable state to remain, as painful as it still was.

“Mummy and Daddy told me it's unpolite to treat people different when they have GSD, even if their fur is soft like a cat's or they look like a vampire's nightmare. Like, Uncle James is a 'Beast-Boy' shifter and we're only alloweded to stroke his fur if he says it's okay. He usually does though. We're not alloweded to touch Uncle Bob at all though... But hey, we're in the healer building, so shall we be doing some healing? Where does it hurt?”

“You... you're not just trying to get my defences down, so you can hear me purr, are you?” Danny asked with some small amount of fear. He hated his purring.

“Mistah, I'm sure it's adorable, but I've just been speaking to Iron Jerk-face, and his poopyhead delusions. I'm wanna'ing to do some healing. So unless you want me to just blast you with enough strength to push you into the wall, you wanna just tell me where I should heal?”

“Okay, sorry. Just... Don't tell my sister about this, will you? I don't want her knowing what happened.”

“Mummy says I can only talk to Mrs Hair Lady and Dr. Betty about anyone I heal. Besides, I don't know who your sister is, so there.” She stuck her tongue out at him, blowing a raspberry as well. Danny figured that she must really have no idea who Kayda was, which was a relief, and a worry.

Even though the male nurse with the little girl had him have to take off his trousers in a most embarrassing way, and even though she needed him to shift through all of his forms to get his tail sorted out, for some reason, Danny didn't think he minded this little girl so much. At least in comparison to the others.

"Dammit, that's it! Imma so running that bitch down!", growled the faux redhead, as she glared daggers at Inquisitor. The former Peter Bradford, who had been taking her disgust at her own changeling transformation out on everyone around her - especially the one MTF student in their group who hadn't been altered in that way by her mutation - turned and sneered.

"Damn it, Carla, no!"

"Oh, yeah? Since when are you such a fan of Mary's, Ruth?"

"I don't give a fuck about her, but if you transform inside Poe, it'll trash the hallway again!", the RA cried, pointing at the damaged walls and tire marks already on the floor near where Carla had gotten her fenders stuck the last time she changed while indoors.

"Okami-samaaaaa! Ohayo!"

On hearing the young girl's voice behind her, Hikaru winced and even shuddered a little. Surely that thing couldn't have made it all the way here on her own..?

Turning to face the speaker, she saw exactly what she feared would be there: a young girl, no more than six from her appearance, in a baseball cap, a red blouse, and a denim jumper, and wearing a pair of oversized eyeglasses. Sighing inwardly, she said (in Japanese, of course), "Arare, how did you get here...?"

The android - a creation of one of her teachers, made when the woman was a student herself and built to look and act like a popular manga character - said, "I flew here, silly! Mama asked me to deliver this to you, she said it was very important." The robot held up a package longer than she was tall, and resembled a metallic version of the sort of tube which was used to carry posters or architectural drawings... but it also radiated considerable magical energy.

Hikaru's mind jumped between curiosity about the package, and irritation that Miura-sensei had decided to test out the robot's latest improvements without saying anything about it to her. "Thank you, Arare-chan, if you could please hand it over to me, you can be on your way."

"Mama said I could stay for a while! I wanna play around here, it looks like fun! I even made a new friend while I was waiting for you to come downstairs, she's from China and has a very pretty bell on her tail!"

Whateley Lakeside picnic site
Sunday October 21st 2007

“Catch me, catch me!”

The younger girls were playing joyfully in the clearing of the picnic area, as their older cottage mates were moving the veritable feast onto the bench table from the baskets. At first, their game seemed like it might have been some form of tag, but it soon became apparent that it had a few extra rules. For one, none of the girls seemed to be actually allowed to touch the ground, as a marker to “The ground is lava!”. The few who couldn't achieve some version of flight or levitation by themselves, seemed to be using a variety of gadgets and devises to keep aloft. For another, it seemed that the girls were transferring who was 'it' by means of silly string lassos.

As Maggie moved to catch Estelle before she crashed into the bench and ruined the food, four young men and one short girl stumbled out of the forest and into the clearing. Each with their clothing in tatters and, in several places, caked with drying blood. On their left biceps, all five wore a black band with red letters, spelling out U-V.

“Heh heh heh, what do we have here? Awww, are the little dollies having a little Barbie picnic?” The boy in the lead asked.

“Wouldn't it be such a shame... if something happened to it?” The girl added, reaching around the boy in a hug, while digging her nails into his side hard enough to break his skin.

“Bloodwolf. Maggot. Killstench. Hela and Necro. I have you all on video, and it's going straight to security.” Belinda 'Crystalline' Mathews said, pointing to her phone. “They're already on their way, so why don't you make this easy and piss off before they get here?”

“Ooooh, that sounds like a challenge. And you know how beating down a challenge makes me feel afterwards, don't you boys?” Whichever of the boys weren't salivating due to the thought of the oncoming fight they would start, was clearly made to salivate by that thought.

“... aunt Sammy, who're they? Can they play tennis with us later on?”

“Um... No, Ceilidh, they can't. Why... why don't you take Estelle and Miranda, and go help Maggie get the other basket from Hawthorne?” Samantha 'Beam' d'Cruz didn't so much question, as ordered and shoved the smaller girl in the direction of the buildings. But before the pre-teen could so much as take a few steps, Bloodwolf had shifted forms, and jumped in front of her path.

“And where do you think you're going, pup? Off to get your mummy? HAH. I'm going to enjoy breaking you... And your little band is pathetic. I'll have you know that I've the spirit of the werewolf. Even if you could hurt me, I'd heal faster than you could believe, and then return it.” He proceeded to grab her forearms, ripping off her own red and black armband, and lifted her to be eye-level with him, in quite a painful grip.

“Is that why you have that scar on you?” The petulant reply came, tinged with a spot of mirth, as the girl looked at his chest through his ripped shirt. “What does that even …. he, hehehehe, hehehehehehehehe, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA”

The werewolf's hands dropped the little girl, but she didn't fall. She was instead surrounded by a blue glow, as the boy became surrounded by a red one. In seconds, he began screaming in pain, as blood began flowing from his eyes, ears, nose and mouth, and hundreds, if not thousands of little papercuts began opening all over him, just big enough for blood to flow out from.

The other boys rushed forwards, ignoring the other girls who were slowly, carefully backing away, to join in the fight, while Hela watched curiously from a distance. They managed to cover no more than half the distance between the giggling child and themselves, before they too were surrounded by a red glow. Before they too were screaming in pain, as they began bleeding from all their orifices, and they too received the papercuts. They were then sent shooting off into the lake, as the security forces arrived on the scene, gulping in fear.

A small globe of light came from the group of girls, huddled around the bench, striking Ceilidh in the chest, just as the papercuts on Bloodwolf began stretching into large, deformed sawblade-length slashes.

"Hey, Narns, did you get a look at that horse guy?"

Matt gave his best friend Amy, a curious look. "Huh? No, I didn't. One of the froshes?"

"Yeah. He looks like one of those animal people on that TV show, the one about that island?"

"Oh..." Matt wasn't a big fan of Paradise Island, but he'd seen it a few times. "Oh! that must be the guy Toni told me about!"

"Tony? I thought he graduated last year..."

"No, I mean my sister Toni. With an 'i'. She said she'd gone down to Paradise Island to talk to one of the kids, because he thought he might have some kind of ki powers. Turns out he's an Energizer, and they're all confused because he's the oldest one of the Horse animen who wasn't, I dunno, transformed into it or something. They aren't sure what it means."

"So, wanna go meet him? I mean, he maybe one of the kiddies, but I bet he's..."

"Don't even finish that sentence, I don't want to know." Matt always wondered about Amy's tastes, after all, she wouldn't go out with him, so what's wrong with her?

Whateley Academy, January 1968

Well, I have to admit, I had volunteered for this. I was really surprised to hear that none of the big Mad Scientist types in the Syndicate had done as much with computers as I had; it was an embarrassment, I tell ya. The ones who had? They knew only the ones they built themselves, and most of them were, eh, pretty iffy if you ask me, too dependent on stuff that didn't really work for anyone else. We really oughta come up for a name for that kind of thing.

Anyway, when the time came to check out just what the school was doing with the dosh set aside for their fancy new mainframes, I ended up with the job. I had no problem with that; if no one else could see how big a deal this stuff was becoming, all the better for me.

After meeting with Dr. Alexander in the main office, we took a ride down one of 'secret entrance' elevators to the computer rooms. Once there, I was surprised to be greeted by someone whom I knew.

"Dr. Morey! It's great to see you again, professor." I did not expect Alan, the guy who taught me about computers in the first place, to be down here of all places!

Dr. Alexander gave me a bit of a squinty grimace, but he knew better than to say anything. "Mr. Kotok! I wasn't expecting to see you here... Is that young Dave over there?" I added, pointing to a teen who had been hanging around the AI Lab last to time I stopped by to brush up on the latest tricks - tricks that helped me get one over on a pack of TAROT agents a few weeks later, as it happened. I seem to recall there was a lot of arguing over whether they really ought to be letting a junior high kid walk around the place and fiddle with robotic arms and such, but a bunch of the 'hackers' had taken a liking to the boy and wanted him to stay.

"Yeah... actually, he's the reason I'm here. He started here at the school this Fall, and he got to talking about me with one of the Engineering teachers, so they decided to look me up."

So, young Silver is a mutant? Can't say I'm surprised, it was pretty clear from the start that he was doing things no one else could figure out. "He's a Gadgeteer, then? I hope I got that term right."

Dr. Alexander interrupted, saying, "That's actually a matter of some debate among the faculty, actually. Since the school opened there has been uncertainty about whether there is only one such trait, or two. There's is talk of creating a separate category called 'Devisor' for those whose work appears to violate ordinary physical laws. Mr. Silver here is one of those who seem to work from ordinary principles, but in extraordinary ways."

I nodded; that information was worth the trip by itself. I turned to Kotok again and said, "Well, shall we get on with the tour? I hear you were one of the primary designers of these new model Ten computers, I'm sure you have a lot to say about them..."

Friday October 13, 2006 :

Alex put a hand against the wall to support himself. He was desperately trying to avoid falling down, with moderate success. Each step was slower than the previous one. At this point he chuckled and wondered if he would make it home before the sunrise or if he would just drop to the ground along the way home and just sleep the booze off. Even he could realize that he had drunk too much tonight and despite his bravado during the party, teenagers were not meant to handle that much alcohol. Nobody was meant to handle that much alcohol. Or maybe those exemplars that Alex had heard of.

Paradoxically, it was in this advanced state of inebriation that he felt that he truely could see things clearly. He was on the verge of passing out from the alcohol when he left the party, and yet no one really cared about him. Or at least not enough to bother to make sure he would be ok on the way home. He was not even sure they would have taken his keys if he had come there alone by car. For all his so called popularity, his jock status was no more than a shooting star burning through the sky. The fall would be brisk and abrupt, causing a lot of destruction in its aftermath. Maybe it was still time to steer the wheel.

As if to extract him from this thought, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned back and found himself face to face with what he had to assume was human or else he would have to question his sanity. The stranger was tall and slender, with piercing red eyes glowing in the night. He allowed a few seconds to pass to let Alex gaze at him and bask into the oddity of the encounter. The eyes were not the only thing that screamed "mutant" about him. Even if in the dark of the night they were particularly captivating, his most distinctive features were rather his second jaw, his grey skin and while it could have passed for dreadlocks what was on his head was definitely not hair but rather some kind of bone-like formation.

This appearance coupled with the red tuxedo jacket he was sporting didn't leave much doubt about his identity in Alex's mind.

The obviously GSD affected mutant reached out his hand, "Hi. You must be Alex, aren't you ? You can call me John, I find the use of codenames in this kind of situation quite impolite. Don't you think so too ?"

Alex didn't shake John's hand, which didn't make John's wide grin falter. Those teeth looked awfully sharp to Alex.

He sighed, "Well, it seems politeness is a lost virtue among your generation."

Still not quite understanding what was happening to him, Alex stammered a weak apology.

"Nevermind, I am ambushing you while you are unmistakably still sobering up. At least you are not puking on my jacket, which I am quite grateful for by the way."

"You ... You're welcome."

"See ? We are already making progress here. It's the start of a beautiful friendship." John moved forward and put his arm around Alex's shoulder, guiding him toward a less lighted alley. "Alex, I must admit that I haven't come here just to admire your witty comebacks. I have a problem and I am hoping I will be able to smoothly fix it with a simple heart to heart conversation. Easy enough to follow so far ?"

Alex nodded, not wanting to contradict the man and not trusting his voice to not betray his fear.

"Cat got your tongue ? Nevermind, but I will have to hear your delicate voice at one point." He cackled. "Does the name Blake Newman ring any bells ?" Instantly, John's voice lost any trace of friendliness.

It hit Alex like a whip. "Yes, he ... he is a classmate." he answered, almost choking up now that he understood where the discussion was going.

"Would you say that you are both getting along ?" inquired John, his voice still devoid of any emotion.

"I wouldn't call us friends but there are no hard feelings between us." tried to lie Alex.

His inquisitor would have none of that. "Bullshit !" he yelled, from both of his mouths, which made the situation even more surrealist. But Alex was more focused on the right hand that had made his way around his neck, lifting him in the process. Claws were slightly digging into his flesh, drawing blood. But what truely alarmed Alex, and quite frankly made him instantly sober up, was the vision of the sacrificial knife that john pulled from his jacket with his left arm. The edge of the knife was glowing red and Alex couldn't look away from it.

John sighed and lowered the boy to the ground, but still kept his knife out in the open. He matter-of-factly apologized, "Sorry, I try to portray myself as civilised, to fight against GSD stereotypes, but unfortunately as a rager I still have sometimes some outbursts of temper." He left this last notion hanging the air, as if he meant it as an implicit threat. The grin was back.

"What do you want from me ?!" cried Alex.

"Don't be like that, it does not suit you. The thing is, normally I don't mind people like you. I tend to see you as a necessary evil." He paused, it almost seemed that the next statement was painful to admit. "Unfortunately, I am an hypocrite. See, I don't care much about other people. But if you target one of the two people I truely consider to be worth something ? I don't care about the hypothetical place you were meant to play in my representation of the world. I have to interfere."

Alex's eyes were still riveted on the knife. He saw the freak raised the hand holding it and brutally plunged it ... in his other arm. In a swift motion the arm was cut at the elbow and dropped to the ground. There was no effusion of blood. He couldn't comprehend what had just happened. John seemed unaffected by the injury and simply turned his back on Alex.

He began to walk away but stopped to add, "I would have liked to say that it was a pleasure to meet you, but I try to avoid lying these days. As I said at the beginning, it is the start of a beautiful friendship. Or maybe not, who knows ?" He then disappeared.

Alex let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. However his relief was short-lived. The severed arm, still lying on the group started to throb. It crawled on the ground in his direction. And yet his legs refused to allow him to run away. He was mesmerised by the movement of the arm. Or rather what had begun as an arm because the piece of flesh was slowly morphing into something far more ... hellish.

When it launched at him, he couldn't help screaming.

Homer Gallery, Tuesday 28th August 2007

Eliza stopped in her tracks, looking around the room.

Her eyes tracked every exhibit, being marveled at the appearance of some of the items, the defunct death rays, the costumes, the portrait she barely spared more than a glance at, and coming to rest on top of the biggest pile of gold she'd ever seen.

It was so much gold, she thought it was so much that not even President al-Assad had as much in the palace! Not that Eliza had seen it. She hadn't seen anything except for her little farming village, the insides of the westerners transports, and now this school.

By the grace of Allah, what was she doing in an American school? She understood a little bit of the westerner's language, English, but had no idea at all how to read it, let alone write in it. She could barely write in Arabic. She'd never needed to. Would they need her to convert to using English all the time? Would... would she need to start using that strange western word, 'God' instead of 'Allah'?

Was it okay that she was going to be learning anything, at all? She'd always left that stuff to her father, her uncles and brothers, and to the church leader. Did... did she need to learn anything more?
It was all so confusing.

/It'll be fine for you to learn, dear one. It won't be a problem/

Eliza felt like screaming! There it was! That strange voice in her head again! She felt, despite what the man in the suit said, that she must be possessed by one of the servants of the seven princes of hell. Most likely Asmodeus, given what she was told she had done in the bunker by the man in the suit, and the new body she found she could take on. Or possibly Sathanus, given what she had done while they apparently were paralysed, with the hands over their groins.

/I may be a spirit, but I have no connections to any lower plains dear one. And that form is granted to you to protect you from those who would harm us, my host. Do not fear it./

Eliza knew that the souls of those men, if their own beliefs were true, were now in the Islamic version of the pit, for having been tempted by her body. She didn't know what actually happened there, but she knew they believed that she had been the one to condemned them. But she hadn't been able to talk to the church leader since the bunker, so she didn't know if she did carry their sins upon herself, or if they were just wrong. She knew that the Holy Bible held that each man and woman was individually responsible for their own sins, but she didn't know if some of the blame fell with her.

She wished she could talk to the church leader, or at least her father, to get them to explain these things to her. Though she knew she couldn't. It was blasphemous to think you could talk to the dead.

“Okay, so, this is what we're here to see. This is a picture of Lord Paramount, ruler of Wallachia over in Europe. He's an alumni, and a big donor to the school. But he has a rule that every new student has to see the picture within 24 hours of coming onto campus, so here we are.”

Eliza wished that Ruth was here, at least. She knew that Ruth had come to the states as well, but she was being looked after by some normal American family, not being shunted to this school. She wished she understood more English, written down, so that she knew what was written on the pieces of paper she had signed – with her own signature! - to be able to attend. The man in the suit assured her she had no obligations to come work for him when she was done, but she knew he expected it. She didn't even understand who he was, he'd introduced himself as something like “An agent of the 'Seeing A'” or something. She didn't understand his English words enough, and he hadn't had the Arabic to confer the idea clearly enough. But he would only find a home for Ruth if she put her name on the paper, so she did. Ruth needed looking after now that mother and father were with Allah, so she did what the man in the suit said, and now she was at this... was the word “school”?

/You'll be able to see your sister again Dear One. I can feel where her soul is. And this school is both necessary and dangerous. It has much to teach, but would be unsuitable for one as young as your sister. Do not worry for her./

Eliza felt like screaming again, to hear the voice. But it too, thought this place was a good thing. Eliza didn't know if that was good or bad. She so wished she could talk to the church leader again.

How decadent the west must be, that they can not only afford to let each and every child, even the girls, have time to go to school, and not also work in the fields! Let alone the decadence it takes to make a school whose entire lot of students were possessed by demons to grant them powers!

A little something to feed the demon ducks, with the idea that maybe Eliza had Mrs. Hawkins for her class advisor.

---

Schuster Hall, Whateley Academy
First day of classes


Eliza was having a little bit of trouble getting to class without being jostled by, or being pushed into, one male student or another. The slight reassurances she'd had that modest behavior might not be an alien idea here, gained from being placed in a girls-only dorm, had been rapidly erased. Yet she persevered and arrived at her next class in time to hear the teacher start his lecture.

"Good Morning, everyone. My name is Mister Williams and I will be your instructor for American History 1. I see that there are a number of unoccupied seats matching the number of students still standing around. Would someone care to explain this behavior before I start assigning seats?"

One of the girls still standing said, "Mr. Williams? I'm sorry, but if I have to sit next to that creepy guy in the back over there, I'll have to drop the class!" Some students around the room nodded in agreement.

"Is that so? Mister," the teacher nodded toward a back corner of the room. "Yes, you. What is your name?"

"Madz Yensen" or that's what it sounded like to Eliza. Another of those coarse Western names she'd be expected to remember. The boy looked nearly as uncomfortable as his name sounded to her.

'Remember child, your name may sound equally unfamiliar to the others,' sounded the voice inside of her head.

Seeing something he did not approve of, Mr. Williams went on, "Jensen. It's bad enough that I have one of you in my class; I will not tolerate you disrupting my classroom further. Whatever you've done to alienate so many of your classmates, that stops now. For the moment, the rest of you hold on. It seems I have another problem student: Eliza, I can't pronounce this. She's from the Middle East and may need translation help. I don't suppose any of you reprobates ... Yes, Jensen, what is it now?"

"I know some Arabic." Actually, the boy looked like the one of the least likely persons on earth to speak the language: dirty blond hair, pale skin, slight frame, almost pointed eyebrows over mischievous green eyes. The glasses framed in reinforced plastic hooked to not-quite-pointed ears? If he wanted to look trustworthy, he was trying too hard for too little success. On the other hand, the way his tie was tied and the way his shirt and jacket hung over hidden body armor, matched men whom Eliza's father had pointed out as al-Mukhabarat.

To complete the image of decadence, there seemed to be something going on over his head, certainly not a halo. Eliza didn't blame the other students for avoiding this one.

'He wears illusion. Perhaps to avoid more trouble than he already attracts?'

He is a sorceror?

Williams said, "Good, she can sit next to you and you can share notes. So, Eliza, are you present, so we can get this over with?"

The boy looked around and said, in ʿAmmiya, <Eliza? The teacher wants you to sit by me. Do not worry. It is for instructional purpose only.> Eliza gave her location away when she nearly laughed at the image of this very Western boy speaking like a Cairene truck driver.

The boy's gaze was appraising, guarded, not inappropriately forward as most boys his age, nor openly contemptuous as she'd seen in other Westerners' eyes. In this she was reminded not only of the secret police, but of those times when little Thomas had been bullied by the other children in town and was trying his hardest to not let their parents know.

< Are you truly a sorceror? I have been told you use illusions. >

Smirking a bit, the boy replied, < Did not Imam as-Sadiq say that the Holy Prophet has ordered, “The Muslim sorcerer must be killed and the infidel magician must not be killed.”? >

It took a few minutes to find students willing to sit near them. Certain boys seemed as likely to be uneasy as the girls objecting to his presence. It wasn't as if he hadn't kept himself clean ... but as the class progressed she imagined being near some distant battlefield - cordite, tear gas, petrol, woodsmoke, saltwater, ice, sweat, blood, death. Disturbing, but she'd become far too used to these things in her life back home.

At the end of the class, neither student rushed to the door. What would be the point, when the rest of the class seemed to be trying to get away from the 'raghead' and the 'uviefreak' in the back? Also, she was more tired than she'd expected to be from trying to decipher the other kid's accent. He wasn't completely fluent, and some of the idioms he used? It was certain that he had not lived in a polite part of Cairo.

< Eliza, may I ask where you are from? >

< Syria. We used to live in the northeast, before the devil men came. My father, we had a farm, but > Eliza could not stop the tears from falling.

As Eliza wiped her eyes Mads asked, gently, < Who is left to you now? >

< Only my sister. She lives with another family in America so she can be safe. > Even though it left her sad, she knew it was for the best.

< You studying here assures her safety, yes? Such things are important in life. > The boy nodded to himself. Maybe he had family he hoped to keep safe? Moving to a more neutral topic, < A farm you said? My... > "how do I say foster?" < mother took me to a farm once. They even let me try one of the flame-throwers! >

Flame-throwers??? Merciful Allah! < What kind of farm was that? >

< Soybeans, I think. Dangerous business away from towns. >

< Where? > Such demon-infested places would be good to avoid!

"Ehmmm..." < Tribal council lands. Used to be called Manitoba? I think it is called that now. >

'My dear, I think that young Mads is far, very far, from where he calls home.'

Cell Games Tournament Ring
Island off the coast of Unspecifiedistan

"So, now that you've defeated the youthful Pokemon master, Ash Ketchum, what do you plan to do, Cell?"

"Well, Mr. "Firecracker", for starters, I'm going to wash the blood of those adorable creatures he sent to their death off of my ring. And if you don't get out of my way, I might just use your blood to do it. No, wait, that would just make an even..."

"Wait a moment, folks! Yet another challenger has made their way to the ring!"

"Oh, for... seriously, what part of, 'face me in a challenge to the death on Sunday' didn't people understand?"

"Take a look at this, ladies and gentlemen! This amazing blue-haired woman just flew into the ring like a superhero! This is incredible!"

"You're doing that, now? Really? For fuck's sake, I've been flying around the whole planet and you're just noticing her?"

"Hey, asshole! I guess your that Cell guy, huh? I kinda gotta kill you now, OK?"

"Sure you do. Who are you supposed to be, anyway? Ryoko?"

"I... OK, so I look like Ryoko. It's kinda a long story, so skip it. I guess I should tell you my name, though, right? They call me Tennyo... well, when they aren't calling me 'The Star Stalker' or 'The Destroyer' or 'The Universal Scourge' or any of those other things, I guess."

"I seeee... Isn't that Japanese for 'Angel'? How appropriate..."

"No, actually it's more like a sort of..."

"BECAUSE WHEN I AM DONE WITH YOU, YOU'RE GOING TO BE WEARING A HALO!"

"Fine, fine, never fucking mind, OK? Let's just... hold on, something's up..."

"I cannot believe what I am seeing, Folks! Some sort of huge sea creature has just emerged from the ocean and is walking towards the ring!"

"Wait, is that Cthulhu? Well, color me impressed! I didn't think I rated a challenger that impressive. I may have some trouble beating him actually. No seriously, I'm actually kind of wondering about it. I mean, he's a god. I don't think I've beaten a god before. Is it even possible?"

"Sure. Like this."

"What?"

Tennyo teleports over the head of the High Priest of R'lyeh

"Oblivion strike!"

"Oblivion what?"

Cthulhu gives a shriek that shakes the whole world and begins to disintegrate

"Wait. What the fuck did I just witness?"

"OK, back."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me. You just... one punched a fucking god! You completely destroyed him!"

"Yeah, sorry about that. It's sort of what I was made for. Man, Sara's gonna be pissed that killed one of her relatives..."

"I... I... I..."

"Hold on! Is this gorgeous red haired woman yet another challenger?"

"This might not have been such a good idea after all..."

"Hey, Cell! Sorry, I gotta get going, Fey just told me that Headmistress Carson said if I'm not back at school in ten minutes, I gotta do detention again! See ya!"

"Holy shit. I think I just dodged a huge bullet there."

June, 2008

"Leanna! Slow down!"

The 1998 Renault Clio II rushed through the corner of the road, as it joined onto the motorway, at almost 75mph, with the two redheads in the front seats, weaving through the lanes to find a place in the traffic. The paperwork for her provisional license had been sent the day after Runic's 16th birthday, and thanks to the leeway a small piece of laminated plastic bought her with the Whateley admin in terms of driving courses, she'd been ready to get her B-class the second she turned 17. Well, the second after she got the return form from her theory test, which she passed.

She'd trimmed the line on the practical, with fourteen minors, but no majors, as the British instructors had significantly less patience for impatient driving than the Whateley instructors had, and in recognition, her parents had named her a driver on her mum's ten-year-old, 2.0L, 172horsepower five-door hatchback. Her dad wasn't so much worried about the hit his insurance premium had taken, adding a teenager to it (though thankfully, a girl. He didn't even want to know how much more it'd have been for a boy) or the possibility of wrecking the car. He was endlessly trying to get his wife to upgrade to a more modern, more safe car, possibly even one that had been 'upgraded' by his brother in law. What he was worried about however, was whether his daughter could invoke her shield spell in time if she clipped a curb or any of a hundred things she could do to lose control of the wheel.

If he'd actually attended Whateley after they started the defensive driving courses, he wouldn't have worried, but being an 'old fossil' (even if he had yet to gain his first grey hair) did have it's disadvantages.

As the car was pushed to rev up past 85, he laid a hand on his daughter's shoulder from the backseat. "Your sister asked you to obey the speed limits, dear. A request I somewhat agree with." For a moment, the only response was a quick glare at the occupant of the child seat buckled next to her, before Runic let the car drift back down to 70, and she took the middle lane, watching as four BMW's and an Audi passed by on her right in less time than it takes to write it. Nobody took the left lane, that was for trucks and lorries, and slow old gits who couldn't go more than 60.

"FINALLY! Thank you! This isn't one of the school's cars you know! It's a baseline car Leanna! We're pretending to be baselines, remember!?!"

'Yeah, yeah, whatever. Brat, the pair of you can both fly faster than this rust bucket.' Runic thought, but didn't dare to say with her father in the back seat.

"Wow," said Bob. "That's an absurd amount of torque. Like, a useless amount. If you try to use even a fraction of it, your tires are just going to slip."

"Maybe with your tires," said Alice. "Yours are made of rubber. Mine are made of glue. Glitter glue. And glitter sticks to everything."

"That's... no. Just no. The world does not work like that."

"Sure it does."

"No, it does not. You're an idiot."

"Insult me all you want. It's just words. Everything you say bounces off me and sticks to my tires."

Laura awoke groggily on a Saturday morning. She was still a little out of it from the small party in Melville the night before. Tia was being pretty generous with the money she was making from modelling. You know, that thing she used to insist she wasn't comfortable with, even if the brand was paying for a lot of her tuition.

Bailey was still sleeping, so Laura grabbed her bathroom kit and went through her weekend morning routine. She was definitely going to remember the noise canceller this time. Bailey was awake when she got back, looking a little out of herself. As she was getting dressed, she noticed that there was a large cardboard box sitting her desk.

"Bailey, what's that," Laura asked pointing at the box.

"Hmm," Bailey answered in a daze, "Oh, Mrs. Horton brought it up for you, but you weren't here. It's kinda heavy."

Curious, Laura didn't bother finish getting dressed and walked over to the package. 'This Side Up' and 'Fragile - Handle with Care' stickers on the sides and top. There was a note attached, it looked like Tanya's handwriting.

"Laura, we hope this came on time, if it didn't, we're sorry in advance. We saw it and knew it was for you. Take good care of it. Love - T & T & H," with a hand-drawn bunny next to a heart and a red sun with rays pointing outward.

Under where the note had been taped were three simple words: "Product of Karedonia"

Suddenly very excited, Laura pulled the tape off the box and opened the lid. It was probably some Giz-thing she could reverse engineer! Maybe even one of the latest models. She was definitely going to thank Tia and Hikaru at breakfast. Tanya must have helped them pick the right one.

Right inside the box was an invoice, a plump foil packet, a quick user guide, and piece of styrofoam. Tossing the user guides to her bed (no self-respecting gadgeteer read those!), she looked at the foil packet. "Solution Refill Mix." Curious, Laura tossed it onto the bed after the instructions. She opened the folded invoice, wondering what Gizmatic product required a fluid solution. It was a gift invoice, so no prices were listed.


Prickles? Laura thought. She hadn't heard of that one before. Maybe it was some sort of neuralizer or nerve disruptor. She'd love to see how it compared to her own weapon designs.

With a happy giggle, she eased the top styrofoam piece out of the box to see what the three girls had gotten for her.

---

Five minutes later, after finally calming down, Laura grabbed her phone to make a series of very angry phone calls. The lock screen showed, "8:28 AM, Saturday, April 1, 2017."

---

Bailey thought it was best to never repeat the series of words she heard next. In polite company, among friends, or otherwise. It was fortunate that Laura had made the device attached to the door of their room that prevented any noise from escaping when Laura and Toni were "studying" together. Bailey scrambled to get the remote and turned it on before Laura woke up the rest of Poe.

She also thought it was fortunate that her roommate was so angry that she didn't think about leaving the room with one of her inventions.

This was going to take a while, so Bailey picked up the Quick User Guide while Laura continued going ballistic.

---

After Laura had finally returned to her normal shade, she looked over at Bailey, still reading the Quick User Guide in horror, her face and ears an incredible shade of red. Jimmy or Vic could probably help, but there was no way she would or could ask them about this. Her face threatened to go nearly purple again. Toni? No way. She'd probably want her to try it!

"Bailey?" Laura said icily. Bailey jolted from Laura's tone, throwing the pamphlet in a flutter. "Go see if Morgana and Bianca are awake."

"Why?"

"This cannot be allowed to stand, and we probably have less than 12 hours."

"Mama," asked Angela as her mother tried to decide on an outfit for the day, "what does the writing on your chest say?"

"Um... nothing, dear."

Angela gave her an angry pout. "I can read better than that, Mama! It says... it says 'I atta... atta-ack...'"

"Honey-"

"Liii... lit-tle..."

The Sidewinder CEO covered her scarred chest and forced a smile. "Wow, you're getting very good at reading, Angie! You're so smart! Now, why don't you go get yourself a cookie while Mama finishes dressing?"

Rosa Beretta had been the CEO's Executive Assistant long enough that she felt there should be few things left that could surprise her about her employer's clientele and associates. Although in this case, if she hadn't met this courier before, she would have already summoned Security. She had done that the first time he'd brought something in. The boss had found it hilarious and quoted something about 'meddling in the affairs of wizards'. The company's head of security was still holding a grudge.

The courier was wearing a suit this time, and still he managed to look like a lost schoolboy.

"Does the package require special handling?"

"I wouldn't open it except in a completely isolated and shielded location, but that's me. I believe the instructions were sent SEPCOR."

"Good idea. Oh, good! The CEO's off the telephone and can see you now. I'll check for the correspondence while you two are in your meeting."

"Thanks, love!"

"Rafe! How's it ... ? Woah! Looking good, chummer!"

"Mads, my eyes are up here, remember? It's Rachel Hodges now, in case you're wondering."

"Right. Someone does very good work. A little bit of weight forward over the hips, but still ... "

"Sit down. And no, we're not going to compare scars." Rachel smiled, and that was the most frightening thing: not seeing her old predator's leer, but a fraggin' smile! "...not for another few months!"

"Months? Um. Sitting now. Sitting is good. I. um. Congratulations are in order, then!"

"I think so. When I lost the 'wolf a couple of years back, I'd thought that was the end for me."

"I'm still sorry there was so little I could do." Before Rache could disagree, loudly, again, "I know: it wasn't my fault. But, yeah."

"But nothing, spyboy. That last package you brought in a few months ago? The full genetic reassignment treatment. The past is passed for good."

"I can see that. I wish I could tell you how happy I am for you"

"My nose is still sensitive enough to tell me that. That, and the fact that you didn't sleep alone last night. You still need to buy that man of yours a ring."

"Not you too?"

"'World's smallest fiddle', bucko. Now, what am I signing for?"

Gunther Wicks grinned over at his buddy Stew Avery and got a nod from his fellow mutant. “Lighting it up.” Gunther said as his hands danced over the cobbled together control panel of the craft the pair had built out of parts they had scavenged from the local aviation graveyard. With a chug and gurgle the bell shaped generator fed power to the lift system and the saucer shaped air craft rose from the desert floor.

“We did it Stew!” Gunther laughed as he slapped the shoulder of his skinnier buddy. Stew nodded and slipped a pair of sunglasses over his overly large black almond shaped eyes, their arms tucking behind slightly pointed ears.

“Let's take her for a lap and then test the porter.” Stew stated, his words not quite an order, not that Gunther would have noticed of it had been.

Picking a direction Gunther sent the flying saucer zipping along and in minutes the desert was giving way to farm land, which prompted a whistle from the pilot. “Faster then I expected, and I didn't feel any Gs when we accelerated.”

“Yes, yes, let us find... ah, there. Beam that up.” Stew said pointing to a herd of cows below.

“Let me see if the stunner works first, I don't wanna pull one up and have it wreck your work shop.” Gunther replied as a green beam lanced down causing most of the herd to fall over on their sides. “Beaming.... and it's in...' he glanced over his shoulder and pouted. “And you're gone.”

"I have had a seeing!" says the prophet. "The one called Kayda shall suffer no more angst for the time being!"

"Who the fuck is Kayda, you stupid hag? I was asking you about Kayla!"

"I have had another seeing!" says the prophet. "I have seen that to see the one called Kayla, additional jelly donuts will be required!"

* * *

"What's that?" asks Kayda, pointing at the wire-wrapped hoop carried by her friend.

"Well," says Lanie, "Ah call this the Destabilens. See, Ah've had this theory about how to see through and disrupt certain types of mystic disguises. So, Ah built this. You just look through it like... like... Huh."

"What?"

"Well, Ah think Ah must've miscalibrated this. It's showing you as a boy. Hang on, let me just..." She turns a few small knobs and presses a button, and the devise hums. "What in tarnation..."

"Lanie, why do I feel itchy? What did that thing just do to me?"

"Well, um, y'all are, um... C'mere." She grabs Kayda and hustles her into a bathroom.

"Hey!" shouts Kayda as she sees a boy in the corner of her eye. "This is a girl's bathroom, perv! Get... get... out..."

"So you are seeing what Ahm seeing, then?"

Kayda moves her hand and watches the familiar boy's hand mimic the movement on the other side of the mirror. "Lanie," she says slowly. "What. Did. You. Do."

"Well like Ah said, this thing shows the truth behind certain types of illusions, and it can emit a pulse that destabilizes the EM matrix and ends the spell. See, Ah got the idea from Dashboard's hard-light projectors and some of the parallels we've noticed between magic and-"

"Lanie. Why am I male again?"

"Well, if Ah had to guess, Ah'd say you were inside a tactile illusion this whole time, and my Destabilens just disrupted it." There's a tense, awkward silence that Lanie eventually interrupts with a question. "So Ah take it this is Brandon?"

Just then the doors open and a freshman girl walks in, sees Brandon, and screams. "PERVERT!" She delivers a swift kick before spinning on her heel and marching away to find a safer bathroom.

Lanie shakes her head as Brandon rolls on the floor clutching aching parts that he hasn't felt for months and is now much too acutely aware of. "Ya'll are gonna need so much more therapy." She pulls him to his feet and helps him back out into the hall, heading toward Doyle. "C'mon, let's get you to Dr. Bellows before they try finding an excuse to drag you off for powers testing or medical treatment. Ah think you're going to need him more than Hewley or Tenent for the time being."

Suddenly Brandon's legs give out and he nearly hits the floor before Elaine takes his full weight and hefts him back up. "I can't be male, Lanie! What about Debra! If I'm like this..."

"Hush. Let's just get you to-"

"Hey Lanie!" shouts Flux, who quickly closes with them, Risk in tow and whistling appreciatively at Brandon. "Who's this handsome hunk of human? Yum!"

"Damn it Flux, back off!" Lanie shouts as Brandon starts to shiver and mutter incomprehensibly. "This one's off limits! That goes for you too, Risk!"

"No, that's fine, we get it," says Risk as the two boys see Brandon's state of upset. They turn and leave, Flux humming When She Smiles while they disappear around a corner.

"So much therapy," grumbles Elaine as she hauls a now catatonic Brandon into Doyle.

* * *

"Alright, hag. Here are your damn donuts. Now, what can you tell me about Kayla?"

"I have had a seeing!" says the prophet. "I've seen that these are the incorrect donuts! To see Kayla, I will require jelly fillings! Not cream! Jelly!"

Kayda clutched at Elaine and sobbed harder, wailing in grief and ultimate suffering. The red head did her best to console her friend but the tears just kept flowing. "It won't stop!" she wailed. "It never stops! Every...every time I start to feel hap...happy....<hic!>" The poor girl was crying so hard she'd given herself the hiccups.

Dr. Bellows kept his voice calm and soothing, grateful for his training and hating every time he had to use it this way. "It will be alright, Kayda, I promise. We won't let him hurt you any more, but you'll have to tell us what happened."

The dusky skinned girl wailed again as the physiologist stood and went to his desk drawer. He got the doll he kept there just for this purpose and came back to the seat next to the two worried girls. "It will be alright, I promise, Kayda! We'll just take it slow. Here. Take the doll. Now, show me on the doll where Elrod gave you angst..."

As Doctor Bellows talked to and Lanie comforted Kayda, a knock sounded on his door. "Excuse me a moment," he said to the girls, then opened the door. One of the powers lab technicians wheeled in a cart, on which sat a strange devise with a lot of wires leading to sensor pads.

"What is that thing?" Lanie asked, ever curious about gadgets and devises.

"It's a brand new Angst-o-Meter (TM), which will help calibrate how much distress you are in, as well as where, and that will help me treat it." He turned to the technician. "I can take it from here. Dismissed." The technician spun on his heels and left the room, pulling the door shut behind him.

"Well, Kayda, do you want to give this a try?"

"It's ... it's harmless, isn't it?"

"Perfectly. I just put on these sensor pads, and the machine reads your A-wave pattern ...."

"A wave?" Lanie asked curiously.

"Angst waves." Bellows shrugged. "We couldn't come up with a better name. Anyway,l it reads your A-waves an gives me a readout. The level of distress registers on this meter." He pointed to an old-fashioned analog meter dial in the face of the machine. A paper trailed from it, on which the A-waves would be recorded and plotted for analysis. Altogether, it looked like something straight out of a B-grade 1960's sci-fi movie.

"Okay, let's try, if you think it will help."

*****

Dr. Bellows gawked at the smoking remnants of the machine. "That's ... that's impossible!" he stammered over and over.

"Ah told you her angst-level was high," Lanie said, her hand rubbing the Lakota girl's back reassuringly, while stealing glances at the machine. All the recording pens had snapped to levels off the chart, and the analog needle had not only zoomed past '10', but had gone to the peg so fast and hard that it wrapped around the stop - registering at least, according to Lanie's best guess, well over '11'. And that was before the machine gave up the ghost.

"Now what?" Kayda whimpered, still feeling distress at her last angst and tremendous fear about what would befall her in the future.