Question The Micro-Scenes thread

Bert Kade straightened his polo shirt and strode away from the zoo, a faint frown on his face. His classmates were so immature. Climbing into the badger exhibit to wrestle with the poor animals? Impersonating chimps? Dressing the otters in sailor fuku? What were they, children? Bert tsked as he walked. His mother would probably approve of such childish nonsense. Well, she could just swallow her disappointment and get over it. He was going to be an upstanding member of society whether she liked it or not.

He slowed as he passed an elderly tour guide near an old building who was reciting the history of Boston's role in the abolition movement in a creaky, droning monotone. Bert smiled and casually joined the drowsy looking group. This was more like it! As he listened in rapt attention, his tail began to swish. Or at least, it tried to, confined as it was in a pant leg.

Delilah Stephens, grandmother of six, snapped out of her stupor as movement caught her eye. She squinted at the boys pants, then shook her head. "Just the breeze," she muttered. Then the pants twitched again, and again. Her eyes widened and she let out a loud gasp. "Young man! Don't panic, but I think there's something in your pants!"

Bert turned and frowned at the old lady. "That is highly inappropriate, ma'am. Please cease ogling my behind at once and kindly keep your perverted attempts at flirtation with minors to yourself. I am trying to enjoy this lecture."

"You- but-"

"I'm not going to ask you again, ma'am. Stop talking about my butt."

"T'be fair, it's a right nice bottom, it is," said a new voice from down around Bert's midsection. He turned to see that short upperclassman girl from Dickinson standing there staring at him appreciatively. And now other people were staring and commenting as well, even the tour guide.

"Thanks a lot," he hissed. "Now undo it!"

"Undo yer bottom? Right 'ere and now?" she hissed back, looking scandalized. "Bliddy hell. And here I thought you Yanks were all prudes!"

"You know what I mean! Your compulsion. Remove it!"

"Or what?" she said with a smirk. "Or you'll tell your dear mum? She'd laugh 'er own arse right off, I bet!"

"No doubt," muttered Bert. "But I could go tell Ms. Dennon that you are inciting sexual harassment of a minor."

"I wouldn't have to distract 'em that way if yeh'd keep yer cute little tail under control!"

"You- You didn't just use your..."

"No, I didn't." She paused and adopted an evil grin. "Do you want me to? 'Cuz I bliddy will!"

"Ahem!" said the tour guide, who'd ambled up next to them both without them realizing. "Will you two inconsiderate lovebirds please take your flirtation elsewhere? I am trying to educate people here!"

"That's alright, windbag, I was just leavin'. B'sides, I got me a bone to pick with them rotten wankers over there," she said, pointing at a mixed group of people in skeleton and zombie costumes who were closing in on Lindy- no. No, Bert was not his mother. They were closing in on Calliope. Well, they were, until... until the short girl whose name he could not remember and he refused to substitute with a nickname gave a holler and they turned their eyes toward the pair of them. Then their eyes shifted solidly to him, only they weren't looking at his eyes.

Bert shook his head as the girl stalked off toward them. Ignoring the old lady who seemed to be struggling to keep her eyes on the tour guide instead of Bert's rump, he tried to get back into listening to the lecture. Unfortunately, his efforts were dashed when a horse boy came crashing out of the wall and tumbled through the group to finally find rest in the middle of the street. "Bogus, dude," said the large senior... Nick. That was his name. "Totally bogus." Nick climbed to his hooves and winced at the crowd. Before he could apologize, another throng of people dressed as skeletons spilled out of an alley behind him and began shrieking at him. "Whoa, guys. That's pretty gnarly. You with Old Man Sulfur back there?" he asked, pointing over his shoulder at the hole he'd emerged from.

That was when something large began climbing out through the hole. All those people who Bert had heard calling him and his mom devils or demons had clearly never seen anything like this before. It stood twelve feet tall and had big curly ram's horns, lumpy blood-red skin, flaming eyes, and the most horrendous mustache Bert had ever seen. To say nothing of the smell. Bert smiled apologetically at the tour guide, then cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted over the screams. "Thank you, sir! It was fun while it lasted!" Then he turned and calmly walked away, ducking under a thrown skeleton before turning a corner back to relative sanity. He very pointedly ignored the deep, rumbling, ear-raping voice of the demon and its comment about his tush.

His peace was short lived. The more people he passed, the more catcalls he got. Seeking solace, Bert ducked into an office building. The receptionist began to challenge his presence, but then she just sort of gave him a silly smile and let him pass. He heard the sound of her falling out of her chair just before he made it into the elevator. After hitting the button for the top floor, he turned to the mirror and forced himself to unclench his fists and soften his glare. Bert Kade was not his mother. He was a civilized, high functioning member of society. He would deal with this like an adult. Several deep breaths brought his calm back, just in time for the doors to slide open.

Bert stepped out into what appeared to be a lobby attached to a rooftop diner and gift shop. He smiled as he approached the large windows overlooking Boston. Smoke was rising from several points around town, and more than one elephant was flying through the skies. This was all his immature classmates' doing, no doubt, but Bert didn't allow it to upset him. He was above such things.

A group of businessmen walked up to the next window, and Bert held his breath. While several of them did briefly drop their gaze to his bottom, none commented and none stared. He let out the breath and smiled again. He was among professionals. People of class.

That was when the most distinguished of the lot received a phone call, and Sir Mix A Lot belted his magnum opus across the lobby.

* * *

"Mommy's little boy!" squeed The Fabulous Imp from behind her x-ray binoculars as she watched her wonderful son systematically liberate the entire tower of valuables. He made several dozen errors along the way, of course, but he'd learn with time. The important thing was that he was finally through that rebellious stage! She put her binoculars and her phone away and hummed to herself as she returned to her bike. Now, if only she could get little Ernie to stop trying to eat Rubber Ducky... Maybe hot sauce would do the trick.

"Yes? You're at the aquarium? And it is being attacked by an Aqua-maniac and an army of lobsters? And Tennyo wants to know where she can get a ton of melted butter... Ask Phase, she'll know."

OOC: A nod to the chaos Diana started over on Twisting the Hellmouth.

2 PM, a block from the dropoff point
Lillian Dennon paced back and forth in the cafe where she had set up shop. She had yet to receive a call from any of her students. She'd been checking Hero Watch every 15 minutes, the news headlines on the hour, rebooted her phone twice, and was pondering asking Liz if Cyberkitty could check if there were any shenanigans going on with the Boston phone system. Nothing had happend, and that was more disconcerting than the alternative. For the 20th time, her eye scanned down the student roster. She was missing something, she knew it. Then her eye caught the second to last line, reading 'Clover' and 'Jynx'.

The other patrons of the cafe looked up as the otherwise healthy looking woman fainted into her table.

Elsewhere in Boston

Froggy and Thorn exchanged high-fives as the prankster trio they had latched onto started to reset for the next go around. They had (literally) stumbled across the vampier/hunter skit as it was wrapping up and decided to latch onto the pranksters for the day. It's amazing how quickly you can redecorate a fast food joint with a bit of ectoplasm. Word had spread through the Whateley students like wildfire, and at least 3 other prank teams had some of their fellow classmates riding along.

Somewhere in Boston:

Anna Parsons ran down the street, screaming. Using her parkour skills, she still could not escape the black cloud of death that followed her. All seemed lost, until she saw the open manhole cover. With a pout, she dove into the sewer. It might smell terrible, but it was better than the cloud. Who in their right minds had given Miasma a dish of Boston baked beans??

Jericho wondered why he was called to the alphas private meeting room. He'd missed the last meeting from being down with a cold and no one would tell him what happened.

"Ah, Jericho, good to see you," Wyatt said, already sitting in a chair, though not at the head of the table, "take a seat."

Jericho, just to be contrary, didn't take the offered seat at the head of the table.
"So whats this about?"

"Remember back at the begining of the year when you said you'd take the alphas from me if I didn't run them properly?"

Jericho nodded, "yeah as a joke. I doubt I could muster the support."

"Well when we held the elections for the new head last week we took that as you accepting Ayla's nomination of you."

"No. No, no, no, no. NO!"

"The vote was unanimous, you are the head of the Alphas as of next week

Jade sat on the front step of Poe, clearly sad and upset. Returning from breakfast Tennyo saw her roommate and came over to give her a hug.

"Jade, what's wrong? Hippy threaten to feed your Kimba plushie to Razorback again?", She inquired.

The diminutive girl looked up at her best friend. "It's even worse than that, onee-sama... I found out that we are getting a new student.... and.. and..." Jade started bawling, " and... and.. she really IS a Radioactive Condor Girl... that means I can't use it anymore.."

At a loss for what to say, Tennyo simply hugged the distraught girl.

Gunny Bardue frowned as he pulled up at the Whateley main gate in the converted armoured van and the Chief of Security himself stepped out of the small guardhouse. Pressing the intercom button Bardue frowned through the thick armoured glass.

"What's the problem Franklin? Caitlin's gizmos are holding strong, we've not had a peep out of the radiation monitors the whole way."

Chief Delarose grimaced. "I'm afraid we had a leak, somehow the student body found out about our new girl."

"So? We're putting her in that specially prepared room in Hawthorne. We've had plenty worse students before this, what's the big deal?"

Franklin sighed, took a deep breath and looked his friend in the eye. "I'm sorry Gunny, I really am. But Jade found out, after Admiral Everheart banned her 'Radio Active Condorgirl' gizmo from the Sims from 'here to the heat death of the Universe', well now Jade's gotten all of Wondercute together, and they're gonna recruit our girl here to their Team the moment they can get close to her."

Franklin slapped the side of the van, turning back to the guardhouse and waving them to open the gate, valiantly hiding his delight and glee until Gunny Bardue had recovered enough to put the armoured van in gear and drive through the gates.

"You're so evil," smirked the normal lead of the contingent of security at the gate after he watched his boss come back to the guardhouse, his evil grin so large it was probably giving all the precogs on campus the willies. "I can't believe you hiked all the way out here just to deliver that news to Gunny."

If anything, the Chief's grin became larger. "After I got pipped running down to tell Hive what was happening?" Franklin laughed. "There was no way I was gonna miss seeing in person Bardue's horror when he got informed." With a final chuckle and a casual salute, Franklin turned and set off jogging, returning to the paperwork still needing to be reviewed waiting for him on his desk.

"Hank, we need your help," a freshman poesie said looking nervously into the sophomore common room.

"Me? Why?" Hank asked getting out of the new hammock Ayla had bought and team Kimba had organized.

"It's your sister Blossom, she won't come out of her room."

Hank sat right back down. "Can't help you, sorry. I'd just make it worse."

"Sister?" Riptide asked.

"Blossom?" Jade asked giggling.

Hank answered Rip first. "Turns out my brother Jay is an exemplar, a level 1, maybe a weak 2. After he got beat up by those bullies for all of his flowers, she had to be healed and he lost something very precious to her. They moved her here last night. And after I talked with my parents yesterday, explaining that Jay was already being called Blossom, it was decided that it would be easiest to make that her new name."

"Is she a pretty girl?" Fey asked evilly.

"Beautiful rose coloured skin, hair like dark red rose petals, willowy with just enough curves to make her interesting, and she smells like a garden," the freshman answered. "A lot of girls are interested in her." From the predatory smile on her face, the freshman was already fantasizing about Blossom.

Jade jumped out of her chair. "Come on! It looks like we have a job to do cheering Blossom up! And we can give her a complete makeover!"

Hank sat in his hammock for a moment as Jade took off. Finally he got up, heading for the door. "This I have to see."

Team Kimba and friends didn't quite run down the stairs. As sophomores they had an image to uphold, but in less than 30 seconds the room was empty.

Stroke of Midnight, Thursday, October 18th, 2007
Fields Family Farm, Eastern Tennessee

"Beeeholld my creeeeasshion!" shouted Dark Eldritch as she kicked open the barn doors, a half-empty jar of devisor whiskey sloshing in one hand. Inside the barn, lit by thirteen differently colored torches glittering off as many empties, was a four foot diameter sphere made of a waxy pink material that was faintly translucent. Eldritch turned to the younger and much less wobbly girl standing beside her. "Now, my loyalll mini-minion! Ani- Anmani- Amnimute- Oh jussh make it be alife!"

"Shit!" yelled Bladedancer at the sight of the creepy black sailer fuku the girl was wearing. She had a pitch black kitten mask hiding her face, but the style, the body language, the overall ambiance... "That's Generator! KILL IT! KILL IT WITH FIRE!"

Chain Lightning's whip lashed around the girl's neck with a sizzle, stunning her even as he gave it a sharp yank to break her spine, but it was too late. She'd already pressed a sticker to the ball, and it was now rising into the air.

When gateway appeared beside the object and Igniarli doused it in flames, Eldritch cackled. "Yesh! Use fire! More fiiire!" She thew her whiskey at the orb and then reached behind her back to draw out a flamethrower, which she used to bathe the other side of the rapidly melting sphere in napalm. The straw in the barn caught as well, and Eldritch laughed harder as she lost focus and began to twirl and sing, oblivious to her own clothes going up in flames. "We goin' 'til tha worl' shtopss turnin' while we burn it to tha groun' tonight!"

"Put out the fire!" yelled Gateway as she called off Igniarli. "They want it molten!" Bladedancer threw a spell slip into the air, and a sharp wind blew most of the burning goop from the orb's surface. Meanwhile, Chain Lightning used his whip to drag Generator's rapidly healing body into the burning straw while Eldritch was distracted by whirling about and setting fire to the barn itself, one hand spraying napalm from the flame thrower and the other spewing magical fire from a specialized ley tap.

The orb, now thoroughly gooey, began to reshape itself into the form of a comically large sword. A comically large sword that was still partially on fire. Several mouths appeared along the flat, and a horrible voice burbled forth. "Let us cross blades, Dancer!"

"Go ahead," shouted Geomancer, who was frantically shifting ley lines away from Eldritch's reach. "We'll keep Eldritch distracted while you deal with that!"

Bladedancer nodded, then rolled aside as the pink sword tried to behead her. It repeated its challenge to match blades, but she ignored the taunt. If this was being animated by Jinn, cutting it wouldn't help. She needed to scatter the material outside of Jinn's range. To that end, she raised her bow and nocked an exploding arrow.

The muttering sword bent out of the way and then suddenly reversed its shape, the hilt becoming the blade even as it thrust at Bladedancer. She cursed, caught by surprise, and dodged in time. The sword twisted as she landed and knocked her bow out of her hands. "I must taste your blade!" it shouted, taking another swing.

Bladedancer stumbled back, frantically parrying with Destiny's Wave while she reached for a spell slip. Even without her bow she could just throw an explosive arrow, but she was too close. She needed to open some distance first. She batted away another swing from the wax as she grasped the slip she was looking for. Then she was yanked off her feet.

"I want Chou inside me!" screamed the wax sword as it enveloped Destiny's wave and Bladedancer's arm, hauling her into the air. She dropped her smokescreen slip and tried for one of her arrows, but she was too slow. The wax sword flowed swiftly and encased her completely. Unable even to scream, Bladedancer watched helplessly as the wax forced her arms together above her head and wrapped her other hand around Destiny's Wave, putting it into a two handed grip. Then it receded from the jade sword, leaving the jade blade bare while keeping the hilt and her hands locked firmly in place within the wax blade.

"Oishi," murmured the wax sword as it rotated slowly in the air, appearing to survey the battlefield. It didn't need to rotate to see things, but it seemed thematically appropriate. Eldritch and Gateway were swinging from the barn's ceiling as the older woman pursued the younger through the hayloft, and Chain Lighting was frantically trying to snare Eldritch with his whip. The sword turned finally to Geomancer, who was taking advantage of the shirtless shitfaced golem's distraction to prepare a spell. That just would not do. It's mouths opened once more. "Yo, Dawgs!" it bellowed. "I heard you like swords!" It adjusted the shape of its pommel to correct its balance, and then it began to spin.

Something hot and wet splattered onto Eldritch's back. She paused in her chase to look over her shoulder, and her face broke into a huge grin. "Ya liddle shits 're hitting tha fan now!"

Wait...Tansy almost became a 1950's fairytale princess mutant?! Little birds flitting around, landing on her finger, carrying owls in baskets, drowsy bunnies trailing after her, and being Aquerna's best friend ever?

Several years ago

The spirit was barely sentient enough to notice the visitor. It was swimming in its pool, listening to the waterfall emanating feelings of peace and calm, basking in the feelings of life and tranquility that were returned to it by the local animals.

But as the visitor sat at the edge of its pool, where the mist of the waterfall would caress her cheek the spirit stirred itself and investigated.

The visitor was not calm, not tranquil, and as far from peace as it was possible to be. The spirit cringed at the feelings of self loathing that clashed with its own being. Hesitantly it reached out, focusing all of its power on cheering the visitor, teaching it how to be at peace with itself.
It screeched as its essence was pulled into the visitor, wrenching it from its home.

'Worthless Tansy!'

The spirit shrank back as the words and feelings flayed its essence.

'Fat Tansy!'

'Useless Tansy!'

Desperately it summoned the animals that lived under its care, trying to stop the hatred and disgust that threatened to rip it apart.

'Who's there?' the visitor demanded.

The spirit responded by sending forth calm feelings, even as part of it scrabbled against the walls that confined it.

'A spirit? I have a spirit in me?' the visitor asked itself. 'I'm an avatar!'

As amazement filled the visitor the spirit allowed itself to relax, the anger was lessening. No longer in agony the spirit reached out to examine its captor, marveling at the essence it provided, feeling its own powers expand slightly with the promise of more.

'THAT'S IT?! THat's all you can offer?' it's captor raged. 'Peace!'

The spirit threw itself at the walls expending energy it couldn't afford to waste in a maddened frenzy.

'What good are you? There are avatars who can work miracles and the best you can do is summon little animals!' the hate filled creature screamed, kicking a chipmunk so hard the little creature slammed into a tree and squealed as its back broke.

The spirit realized it couldn't escape and did the last thing it could, what it lived to do. Reaching out the visitor the peaceful spirit forgave it.

**

Tansy Walcott, more commonly known as fat Tansy, stupid Tansy, worthless Tansy, fell to her knees staring at the dead animal that rested on the grass just a few feet away. She could feel the spirit inside of her, terrified, hurt, and weak. Yet rather than trying to escape it was holding her, forgiving her even as she was destroying it.

For a moment it felt just like when her mother held her, before she'd become so sick. The moment stretched out, becoming a minute, then five, ten, twenty. The feelings of forgiveness and peace, even love, grew stronger.

Tansy couldn't say when she started crying.

Hours later, her face red, her designer blouse soaked and ruined by her tears, she got back up to her knees and scraped a small hole in the ground for the chipmunk, carefully burying the small animal. Standing up, Tansy walked calmly back to her fathers summer home, she no longer thought of herself as worthless. She was fat, she wasn't pretty, and she knew she had a lot of work to do if she wanted to make herself someone she could respect. But as she hugged herself, the spirit that now lived in her let her know she wasn't worthless.

Christmas, Tansy's freshman year

Tansy stared at her father, the calm, almost peaceful expression on her face hiding the contempt she felt for the man.

Since her manifestation, of which the hallow inside her was merely the first power she'd gained, her body had changed, which had helped alter her personality. She was slim and beautiful, so beautiful she would have been intimidating to most people. However her features were soft, a smile came easily to her lips, and her bright blue eyes could calm the angriest person.

Her father had seen the changes in her, had seen how she treated the staff as equals, no longer delighted in tormenting others, and would greet the worst insults with a sad smile and a disapproving shake of her head. He thought that made her weak.

"Let me see if I understand you father," she said calmly. You want me, a fourteen year old girl, to seduce your partners and competitors, so that I can read their minds and share their corporate and personal secrets with you?" Unlike every time she'd spoken to him, she was not smiling. Yet to her father the peaceful expression that refused to leave her face seemed weak and helpless.

"Essentially. It's time you used your talents for something good, instead of being an incompetent little girl," her father said, staring her down, challenging her to disobey him.

Half a year ago, Tansy would have agreed. Hoping to make her father notice her, to win some approval, to get back at the world that shear believed hated her so much. The half hour 'conversation' she and her father had had, combined with the talk the night before over supper, had pressed all of her insecurities, making her feel worthless. Only the calming affect of the spirit within her had kept her from breaking down in tears.

Now the spirits tranquility, combined with her own sense of worth she'd spent the last few months building up kept her voice steady and her blue eyes firmly on her fathers face even as she reached into her blouse pulling out a very good recorder she'd hidden there.

She smiled as her fathers eyes widened and his face turned red with rage. Turning the recorder off she placed it back within her blouse. "I believe some changes are in order, Mr. Wulcott."

To people like her father tranquility was a weakness in others. Tansy had come to realize that keeping calm and staying balanced meant she could act with more decisiveness and certainty than anger ever did.

As her father tried to bluster and threaten his way out of the mess he'd made, Tansy waited patiently for him to realize she had him firmly over a barrel. She wasn't going to let him turn her into a tool or a thing ever again.

Early Fall, 2006

Tansy watched Team Kimba march into Hawethorne, their heads held high despite getting detention for the Midday Melee with the Alphas.

Even the little girl called Jade who still had bruises from the vicious beating Ares had given her which had caused the whole feud was limping along refusing to look beaten or cowed.

Saying goodbye to some of the Thornies she had been talking to, Tansy went over to greet the freshmen. She knew Fey already from Venus Inc. but her focus was on the short girl who was apparently a Goodkind, and according to her friend Jadis, was actually Trever Goodkind.

"Hello everyone," she said giving them a smile and letting her peaceful aura wash over them. "I must say most people serving detention at Hawethorne aren't so eager."

The black girl, Chaka stepped forward. "We did the crime, now we're ready to do the time."

That earned one of her best smiles. "Well, I've talked with Mrs. Cantrel, and even though I'm not a Thornie myself, I explained what happened and she's agreed to take some pity on you guys, so no bathroom duty."

She waited a second for the sighs of relief to stop.

"You still have a lot of work to do, and bathrooms duty isn't entirely off the table," she warned.

Mrs. Cantrell came into the room, eying the newest 'help' critically.

"And here is your overseer," Tansy said with a grin. "However Ayla if you'll come with me, I'll show you your punishment personally."

Ayla watched her carefully, her expression was hard and very wary. Exactly like Trevor had watched her when they'd gone to school together years before.

She took him upstairs and when she was sure no one was around Tansy turned to look at the girl, her eyes full of shame. "Are you Trever Goodkind?" She asked.

"Yes, and you're Tansy Wulcott," the girl said in return.

For the first time in years Tansy felt ashamed, her eyes going to her feet. "I'm sorry," she said, "for everything I did. You didn't deserve it, and while I'm not asking or expecting forgiveness or anything else, if you or your friends need help, just ask and I'll see what I can do."

Ayla looked at her as if she'd grown a second head. Her expression lightened a touch and she nodded. "Thank you."

Smiling in gratitude, Tansy went to a door that was more like an airlock. Handing over the hazmat gear, she stifled a laugh at Ayla's shocked expression. "You were always good in school, so you get to tutor Puppet. She's expecting you and I'm sure you'll have lots to talk about."

Kyle stared at the old style lantern that the Colonial Cosplayer had handed to him before going PIFT! into dust like a vamp staked by Buffy.

"So... do I have to recite some oath or something before i get the green long johns and visit Oa?"

May 24th, 2007
Whateley Academy, New Hampshire

“Look, I am not going on date with you!” she screamed, and it felt loud enough to vibrate the window panes nearby.

“I know! I’m not asking for a date! I just wanted to share a fucking movie!” he screamed back. Just a movie. The sequel to one of their favorite films! “”The new Pirates film comes out tomorrow!” Watching the pirate films, despite the violence, had been one of their most enjoyable film experiences. Despite their frequent discussions, their loud disagreements, Pat had always enjoyed Jack Sparrow’s clever attempts to avoid fights he didn’t need to have. He might not enjoy the fights he did have the way Dominic did, but he did enjoy the character. Or, Dominic reminded himself, she did. Or she had…

Dani had stopped shouting, and was looking at him, no, she was glaring at him like a queen from above, very angrily. She wasn’t yelling though. “I… I’m not going, Dominic. Thank you, but NO,” she insisted, walking away. He watched her go, and hung his head. One of the trio of girls who were walking with Dani gave him a sympathetic look, the other two just glanced worriedly between the two of them, and then they walked away.

“Dani!” the girl hissed as she ran up to his old friend, but he turned away and walked off. The whole gang of the Grunts were going, but she assumed he wanted to take her on a date? Date… Pat? I mean Dani… I mean… she’s a beautiful girl. Gorgeous, beyond drop dead amazing, near the top of the top for Whateley, which is very impressive, since Dani wasn’t actually an exemplar. At least, the docs had been pretty sure she wasn’t. I’d love to date a girl as beautiful as that, as smart as that, as convicted as that, but… date Pat? He couldn’t do that to his friend. Even if they hardly spoke anymore, he still couldn’t. Pat wasn’t into guys. It was that simple. The rumor mill, and the very few times he did get to talk to Dani, said she wasn’t dating any of the girls either. He had no idea why, but…

It didn’t matter. He deliberately switched his walk from a trudge to a stride, forcing himself into step as he headed for Crystal Hall. He’d simply have to report the attempt was a failure. It wasn’t even like she’d be the only girl there! Then again, she’d be the only pacifist. Maybe if he’d said it was a group invite at the start?

The boy, or rather young man, known as Dominic “Mule” Sellers walked back to Crystal Hall looking far more confident and intimidating than he actually felt. His mind kept turning over where, exactly, he’d gone wrong, and why Dani would even think he was asking her out on a date. Why? It really didn’t make sense.

As a result, he missed all the forlorn looks the object of his thoughts gave his retreating form once they were sufficiently apart.

For her part, Dani could only huff in annoyance. She knew she owed him an apology, but her temper as a girl had only gotten… worse. She hadn’t hurt anyone, but it was sometimes hard to remember her own beliefs when she got angry. Violence solved nothing, but neither would she let people avoid the pain of their own decisions. If you poke a dragon and get eaten, then you just had to accept you were an idiot.

Marie and Jasmine both shook their heads as they walked behind her. They didn’t know about her past, nor why she and Mule knew each other. Of course it would look like a date! If he wanted to ask, he should have sent an email, or caught her in private, or something! Patrick was dead! He couldn’t just go walking up to a beautiful girl, invite her to a movie, and expect it to sound like anything else besides a date! Still… she… she regretted yelling. She regretted not apologizing.

“You shouldn’t have yelled at him like that, Dani. I know you’re stressed about Mrs. Carson forcing you to do Combat Finals, since you’re going to have to fail, but you didn’t need to take it out on Mule!” her roommate, Bianca, admonished her. Bianca was a beautiful girl, five foot nine inches of raven black haired european exemplar beauty. She had startling golden eyes and just the cutest fangs. She was also staunchly heterosexual. Had Dani still been the fat reject she had once been, Bianca wouldn’t be within a hundred feet of her intentionally without absolute necessity playing a part. Pat would have wished for it to be different, but not at the expense of her current form. She was still required to see Dr. Bellows weekly because he just didn’t get it! Yes, the body of Anandani Kumari Choudhari was female, but the mind of Patrick Ollie Stiles controlled it.

She’d never be the man she was. There were lots of upsides to being Dani. She had way more friends. She wasn’t fat. She could run more, and she could enjoy her food without feeling guilty about her weight. She got to look at all the pretty girls in the bathrooms at shower time… even if that wasn’t feeling like all that much fun anymore. Girls were pretty, but something just… something just… it was frustrating. Intellectually, she knew which gender she wanted to be and which gender she wanted to be with, but her biology just did not get that. Dr. Bellows didn’t understand either. He was trying to help, bless him, but he simply did not understand. The very fact this body wasn’t interested in women was one more reason Dani knew it wasn’t really her.

Dani loosed a suffering sigh and gave Bianca a sad look. “I know, Bia, and I’ll apologize to him later… eventually. I… may have done emotional violence against him,” she admitted, making herself cringe. “I just needed him to understand that I…” Bianca set a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Bianca did not know that Dani had once been Pat, but she did know Dani had no interest in boys and that Dani had once been male. She’d figured it out last semester, within the first month of their rooming together. Dani might not have made it this long without doing something stupid, if she’d gone without any friends she could at least confide that much in.

“You should go,” Bianca suggested, causing Dani to pull up short in shock. “Apologize for yelling, and agree to go to the movie with him. He said it’s not a date. You’ve never explained how you and Mule are friends, but I can tell he cares. He just wanted to go to a movie with his friend, Dani. Just go with him,” she urged.

“You and Mule are friends? Wow! Has he taken you along on any of the Nations camping trips or anything?” Marie asked excitedly. “That would be so cool! I wish I could join, I’ve always wanted to experience stuff like that,” she admitted.

“You can,” Dani and Jasmine both replied at once. Jasmine blushed and motioned to Dani with a smile. None of her three friends were into girls, and while Marie and Jasmine didn’t know about Dani crossing the gender line, they were fine with her not liking men. They had similar interests to Dani. Jasmine was a sophomore in the electronics classes, and Marie was in magic arts. Dani nodded. “The Nations aren’t exclusive to only Native bloodlines. You can’t vote on the council without being a registered tribe member, but regular membership isn’t restricted,” she explained.

Marie blinked. “Oh cool! Maybe that means I’d be ok afterall!” she said excitedly. Dani smiled, glad she’d been distracted from talking about Dominic. “Oh, but yeah, if you’re friends, just go with him! I mean, there’s nothing wrong with having guy friends you aren’t dating, Dani. I hang out with lots of guys at home I’d never date,” she stated.

Marie wasn’t an exemplar, but she was on the higher end of the non-exemplar beauty scale. Oh Marie, you don’t realize it, but most of those guys would really rather that you did Dani thought to herself, but she didn’t say it out loud.

“Be a friend, admit you took it all wrong, and apologize. If he’s as big a man as he always tries to look like, he’ll probably apologize as well. Besides, Mule sure as hell didn’t look interested in that when he walked over here,” Jasmine noted. She was the cute one of the group, not beautiful, just not unpleasant to look at. She often joked that at least she didn’t have She-Beast’s problems. Dani thought it was an unfair comparison to both girls, but she was very deliberately quite far outside the social circle of the daughter of Dr. Diabolik, so she didn’t bother to speak up about it. She did try to get Jasmine to see she wasn’t ugly. Self-harm was still harm, but she didn’t think “defending” Jadis was a good way to do it.

“What do you mean?” Dani asked. She hadn’t really noticed Mule until he walked up to her, she’d been focused on reciting some spellwork.

“Well, I mean, he kind of unconsciously checked out all of us, including me,” she said. “Started with Bianca, then Marie, then me, in descending order, but you? He didn’t seem to see anything but your face, I’d say.” Jasmine was very good at reading male body language. It was a trick of her esper power. That trick had probably done more harm than good for her self-image at a school like Whateley before she met her current boyfriend. Jim was a nice sort, another tech guy who wasn’t super pretty, but was fairly handsome. He was a freshman, but seemed like a nice guy. He was also more than a little focused on Jasmine, which is what caught her eye. He could see other women, but he didn’t pay them half as much attention as Jasmine.

Dani mulled over Jasmine’s explanation, before admitting with a sigh, “Alright, I’ll go talk to him.” All three girls gave her a glowing smile, and grabbing her hands and arms, began hauling her back towards Crystal Hall, where hopefully the GRUNTS were still eating. This week is just going to be hellish… Dani thought to herself.

September 1941,
Halifax, Canada

Malcolm ran for his life, not caring that practically everyone of his compatriots were risking their lives trying to buy him time to escape. They had known the risks when he'd convinced them to join, and they knew he was the most important member for Abwehr's organization in the city.

He saw his safe point just up ahead, an old warehouse that was being rebuilt to handle war supplies that were flowing through the city to Britain. If he could get inside there was a secret entrance to the sewers and he could be out of the city heading to Montreal by morning where a new identity awaited him. Despite the pain in his side and his heart which was threatening to burst, he found the energy to run faster.

Just a few feet from safety Malcolm screamed in terror, tumbling and rolling to stop at the feet of a woman who had just landed in front of him. In the dim light of the moon he could see she was wearing some kind of one piece suit, her face was smeared with some dark liquid and her hands were wet.

She leaned down, moving more like a wild animal than a human, placing her face inches away from him. He pissed himself looking into her eyes. Madness filled them.

An inhumanly strong hand gripped the back of his head holding him still even as she leaned in and kissed him. Warm blood filled his mouth, coating his lips and cheeks.

The second she let go, he was on his feet running back the way he came screaming for help. The police would only arrest him, the monster who was laughing madly as he ran would kill him. He saw three people walking down the street and almost sobbed in relief. The brief bit of calm died quickly.

Gunther, one of the strong men he'd hired was walking stiffly in front of the two other men. Something was wrapped around his neck, looking closely it seemed like a snake, but the black flesh didn't reflect any light, it sucked it in. The black... thing, was connected to a shirtless man. Bullet holes perforated his chest, but no blood came from the holes. Two tentacles came from his shoulders, somehow Malcolm could see the crude sutures that connected the unearthly things to flesh.

The other man was small, baby faced and chubby, a weakling that Malcolm wouldn't pay more than a second or two of attention to if they met on the street. Yet the man was walking beside the monstrosity as if it was a typical Sunday morning.

"Are you Malcolm Dickey?" the chubby man asked.

"Yes," Malcolm answered. He clapped his hand over his mouth as he heard himself speak. He hadn't wanted to say anything. Turning he began to run again.

"Stop," the chubby man said, barely raising his voice.

Malcolm stopped so suddenly he actually fell over.

The man spoke again, sounding quite happy with himself, "All right Lieutenant Barker, the gunman is all yours, we've got who we need."

Vomit covered Malcolm's shirt and pants, his mind refused to comprehend what happened to Gunther as the tentacles tightened and convulsed. The only thing he could really see was blood spraying across the damp street, and then some bloody rags fell to the ground.

He screamed when hands reached around him, female hands ran over his chest and a voice purred in his ears. "I like this one, he's so strong, and his screams are pretty to listen to. Can I keep him?"

The chubby man knelt in front of him, "That depends, if he tries to fight, we'll have to give him to Barker. If he doesn't tell me everything he knows, you can keep him."

"Please, for the love of god, just give me to the police," Malcolm sobbed.

The chubby man clicked his teeth and shook his head almost sadly. "I'm sorry Malcolm, but you're a spy, bought and paid for by the Nazi's, you don't get the Geneva convention. And after getting four of our convoys shot to hell, well, I'm sorry but our commander is a little bit peeved with you. So we were given carte blanche to do whatever we wanted. And my associates as you can see, have rather violent tastes. It's going to take quite a bit of work convincing them to hand you over to the police, especially when just making you disappear after picking your brain will make things so much easier."

"I'll tell you everything! EVERYTHING!" he screamed as the woman licked his cheek.

"Now that's the spirit!" the chubby man said with a grin, patting his leg. "Meanad, let him go, it seems our good friend Malcolm is going to do the smart thing,"

The woman made a little mewling sound of disappointment but let go of him and backed away. He could still smell the blood that covered her clothes.

"Now Malcolm," the chubby man said sitting down beside him and throwing an arm over his shoulder as if they were friends, "I don't need much, just your list of contacts. Don't worry about writing them down, I have a very good memory."

"I-I-I-I..." Malcolm clutched his throat in horror as the names caught in his throat. "I'm trying! I can't-" he throat tightened almost making it impossible to breathe.

"Which strings to pluck, my little puppet?" the chubby man looked at him with dark, almost black eyes. "Here we go. Remember why you can't speak, Malcolm and tell me."

Bile rose in his throat as he heard what sounded like the voice of god spoke directly to his soul. He remembered meeting a Nazi agent, there was a blinking light, and a voice that straight to his brain telling him to never reveal what he knew to the allies. "I was hypnotized. I can't tell you what I know," his voice held no emotion in it.

"Huh, well now this gets tricky," the chubby man said. "I'm going to take a few minutes to let you think about things, then I'm going to talk to you again, and you'd better have some answers for me. Otherwise, I'll let Meanad play with you for a while and before you die, Lieutenant Barker will eat you. I've been told he eats peoples souls with his arms, I don't personally know if that's true, but it sounds dreadfully painful. So you think about things for a bit and see what you come up with."

As the man began to walk away he stopped, turned and looked directly in Malcolm's eyes. "And don't you move. I don't want you trying to run away or kill yourself. That will only make my friends angry and I won't be held responsible for what they'll do then."

Trying to move his arms and legs proved virtually impossible for Malcolm. All he could do was watch the monster with the tentacles stretch and flex as the holes in his body healed, and the mad woman swing around a dark lamp pole like a young child, giggling madly. Trying to see something sane, he managed to turn his head slightly, now he could watch the man with the voice plunge a needle into his neck. When the needle was withdrawn, shaking hands dropped it to the ground, and the man bent double vomiting onto the street. The man then staggered away to lean against a building, placing his head against the cool bricks.

A few minutes later the man returned, smiling and seemingly normal. "Now Malcolm, my good friend let's try this again."

Malcolm's vision was filled by the image of the mans dark eyes.

"Tell me the name, address, code name and shoe size of everyone connected to your spy ring."

Something in his brain snapped. With blood flowing out of his nose like a waterfall, Malcolm told the man everything.

**

Theodore got to his feet, clutching his head. Malcolm stared straight ahead his eyes blank of any thought or emotion. "God, I hope this was worth it," he muttered to himself.

Meanad loped towards the empty shell, grinning like a loon.

"Meanad, go to sleep!" he ordered before his partner could touch the body, there had been more than enough blood spilled that night.

Meanad twitched and slumped down to her knees. The woman who looked up at him had tears in her eyes. "Are we done?" she whispered.

"Yeah."

Reaching into her clothes, Margaret pulled out a flask and took a deep swig of rum, rinsing her mouth out. Once it was clear of blood she drank half the flask in one long gulp.

Lieutenant Barker was busy putting on a spare shirt and gloves from the backpack they'd dropped just before dealing with Malcolm. With the tentacles fed, the man was back to what they called normal, and the shirt and gloves even made him look human.

"Did we save the Dominion once again?" the lieutenant asked bitterly.

"Yes we did," Theodore said, feeling exhausted. He hadn't signed up for this, but he'd been one of the special people who could help destroy the Germans. After a year of doing things mortals shouldn't be able to do, he wasn't sure if he was human anymore.

"Margaret," he asked gently, "can you spare some of that for me?"

She pulled a second flask from somewhere. "Here, it's all yours, I've got more."

Silently they walked away into the darkness heading for their car. Each one wondering when their insanity would end.

Monster Dispatch Case #3847590668

Call me unprofessional, but if it were up to me many of our accounts would be filed permanently under DENIED. Or, maybe they could be jobbed out to one of the overseas firms. Lower quality, perhaps, but Dream knows some of their agents would take any old job. Looking over the pass-down notes on file, I'd say that this sleeper would top that list. Even the department COO had gotten involved, leaving a caustic note directing any further requests from the sister straight to Nightmares, Inc., as beneficiary.

My heart sank when I read the trouble report filed months ago by the Silver City Guardians Agency, recommending the account be closed out permanently, counter-signed by Jude. Hell's Bells! That guy even handled Oncology and Epidemic cases on a regular basis. My own trainers had recommended handing the hard-case reinstatements to newbies - give them some experience with unresponsive clients. So, I took a chance on our latest Lennie-n-Squiggy team. Maybe they could conjure up something more frightening than a non-alcoholic kegger?

I'll admit it was a stretch. I honestly did not expect to see them march back into the office, grim-faced and greener around the gills. For that matter, I shouldn't have given Squiggy a chance to sucker-punch me. If I'd had internal organs, that would hurt!

By the next evening, word had gotten out, so I knew I was going to have to cowboy up and eat this field assignment myself. I hate third-party request assignments! You're always stuck going in cold, with only sketchy details ... at least a family member would list the client's best fears! But no, I got bupkes to work with. Never mind that the address info listed a bed, but skipped the fact it was in an intensive rehab ward.

How the hell am I supposed to work with a gel suspension bed? I asked myself as my pastrami and rye made a repeat command performance, facedown over the head. I forced myself to go back in after I got cleaned up. Vomit hasn't been scary since that "posessed demon-child" flick with the catchy tune and the the pea soup.

"Are you here for me?" the kid got out around the breathing mask.

I boomed out, "Yes, I AM!" in my best monster voice, all gravelly- and growly- like.

"Will it hurt?" he asked, "Cause I'm okay with that."

I'm left no longer sure we're on the same page here, but I'm supposed to be a pro, "Of course it will - as I chew away your fingers and toes!"

"Do I still have those? I can't feel them anymore."

"Let us see!"

Finally, I gave up and checked the patient charts, 'Phalangeal and tarsal replacement surgery TBD, pending bone and tissue culture ripening.' Flipping through the other reports, plans for debridement, grafts, bone resetting and traction, and other adult fears, my stomach reminded me that it remembered exactly where it put my breakfast. Wanna see?

My noncommittal "Hmmmmm" was answered with "Please! Please don't go!"

"What? Monster here, yeah? I come and go as I will!"

Dreamers alive! The boy was in tears.

"Please? You don't have to kill me if you don't want to. I'm kind of used to it. No one else answers even my prayers anymore. Just - could you stay a while? It's so lonely here, waiting."

"I suppose I could bend the rules. This once. If anyone asks, you're afraid of snakes! I'd never hear the end of it from the guys back in the office if I drowned in hydration gel."

So it went, well into the summer: one lost, hurt, little boy and the monster in or under the hospital bed. A nicer monster would end the story there, but there are people responsible for reopening the case and I am feeling oh, so, inspired. Sweet dreams!

Sweet dreams, indeed.

Off The Coast of Vancouver Island

Andrew slowly swam through the waters of the Pacific shining a light on the ocean bed looking for anything interesting that may have been brought closer to shore after the huge storm earlier in the week. He'd only just entered the water, so he had at least forty minutes of air before he had to return to the boat. Spinning in the water he made sure his older brother was still within sight. They should be closer according to their father, but they'd been diving for years and didn't always follow the rules.

Swimming a little ways away into deeper water Andrew let his mind wander, almost entering a trance. The dark waters were comforting to him, allowing him to move as easily as a fish. Grinning he went farther out, chasing some sea life, studying some cold water coral that pockmarked the seabed, and having a good time.

Then the headache hit him. It was a bad one, flaring up behind his eyes. His eyes went to his air gauge, but it was still well over half full. Now that he was paying attention, he realized his heart was racing. He wasn't getting enough oxygen, looking around he couldn't see his brother anymore. Taking the regulator from his mouth he checked to make sure it was working properly and wasn't blocked. It seemed OK. Putting it back in he tried to think about what could be causing the problem.

He was feeling light headed, his movements getting jerky.

Cursing himself he realized he should have been swimming for the surface already. The ocean spun, and he couldn't tell which way was up. Panicking he kicked towards where he thought the surface was, seeing double he plowed into the sand.

He tried again, and thought he was at least going in the right direction.

He wasn't getting any air from his regulator. He was gasping, panicking and kicking madly getting nowhere.

His blurry vision saw something like an egg made out of water approaching him. A watery tendril touched his hand and his panic died away. As did his need to breathe.

"Help my child," a voice whispered.

'I must be dreaming,' Andrew thought to himself. 'I'm dying from lack of oxygen and this is all just a dream.'

"You are dying. My child is dying. You can save yourself and my child, just agree to protect it," the voice whispered again.

'Who are you?'

"A dead courtier of the Western Court. The last on this planet." The whisper became almost franticb "Please agree. I used everything to save my child when the oceans burned, and my protection is almost gone. Please, protect my child."

'Western Court? I'm dying aren't I?' That thought rose calmly in his mind.

"Yes! My child can save you, as you can save my child. It will not harm you."

'Why me?'

"Your kind was the first among the surface servants for the Undine. I know you can protect my child. I do not have much strength left. Agree to protect my child or you will both die."

Andrew could feel the panic coming back, his body was convulsing as water entered his lungs. He could feel the Undine, whatever that was pulling away, the egg of water was shimmering, losing its cohesion.

'I agree,' he said, realizing he didn't have any choice.

There was an exhausted sob of relief and the egg encircled him.

His last memory was of the water exploding.

**

Andrew woke up floating in the water. The comforting weight of his scuba tank was gone, and for a brief second he panicked searching for it, until he realized he wasn't breathing. He could see the sun through the water, and instinctively knew the surface was only three meters away. Kicking his feet a warm current encircled him and sent him surging to the surface.

Leaping out of the water, he landed on the waves and stood upright as easily as he would on solid ground.

In awe he looked down at his body and saw that it was silvery water, his legs ended at the knees, his feet and lower legs lost in a motionless wave. Long fingers tentatively touched his body, it felt like jello. The shock made him lose concentration and he lost his shape falling into the water with a splash.

He could feel himself spread out in an inhuman shape, more like a blob than anything. Somehow Andrew shut his eyes and concentrated, trying to remember every detail of his body.

The sun had set by the time Andrew became human again. He knew he had succeeded when water filled his nose and he became heavier, sinking in the water. He kicked to the surface and gave a whoop of glee as his lungs filled with air.

The cheering ended abruptly as he realized he was out of sight of land, had no idea where exactly he was, and he was naked.

Treading water he tried to turn back into water. It was strange but offered more chance of survival.

Near Seattle Washington
Late the Next Day

A slim, humanoid shape, watery being staggered out of the ocean. As it put its foot on dry land it turned into a naked teenage boy. His skin was greyish from exhaustion and he didn't seem to notice the crowd of beach goers staring at him in horror, he took a few shaky steps and collapsed face first into the sand.

When the police and medics got him onto a stretcher and into an ambulance he still hadn't woken up.

US-8, Somewhere Between Tuscon and Yuma

Cell phone locked to her ear, Becca Thomas was trying to console Amber...again. Amber had broken up with Aiden for the fourth...fifth? time, moving all her stuff out, and then, if her usual pattern held, she'd be texting him again 20 times a night, telling him that she missed him and that her heart didn't feel full unless they were together.

Every. Fricken. Time.

Becca admitted to herself that she'd never quite felt the way with Trent that Amber got with Aiden. But it was kind of annoying to repeat the same pattern over and over. Then again, Amber had vouched for her to the cops back in high school that she was pretty sure the weed the found in the car came from her skeezy brother, who had already been arrested for possession and dealing a month before. Friends didn't betray friends.

Becca failed to noticed that in helping Amber through her regularly scheduled drama, that she had been tailgating the Volvo S60 in front of her for the last 25 miles.

As Becca listened to Amber's issues with Aiden feeling "distant" when she forced him to watch Walking Dead with her for the third time, she noticed a hand pop out of the sunroof of the car in front of her, glittering ruby nail polish visible on each of the raised fingers. She stopped listening to how Amber compared Aiden to so-and-so (she didn't watch the show), and watched as the upraised hand splayed out the fingers. Enjoying the heat of the air?

The raised hand closed into a fist, and this time, four ruby fingers came up. Becca's concentration snapped to the car in front of her, Amber's familiar wailing now secondary.

The hand closed again, and only index, middle, and ring came up.

The hand closed, two fingers returned.

Amber was bitching about...god know what, Becca mused, transfixed by the bizarre owner of the car in front of her. Becca felt...weird. Dread? No. Apprehensive? She didn't even know what that word meant. Anxious? She took pills for that. Weird? Close enough.

The hand closed. Only one finger remained. It wasn't the index finger. The hand dropped to a fist, then formed into a pistol shape. Becca, transfixed, watched as the ruby-coated thumb dropped behind the hand.

And on the side of the road a saguaro...literally exploded.

The hand raised again into a fist, and five fingers spread out.

Becca pressed the brakes, dropping back a good ten car lengths behind the Volvo, and resumed helping Amber through her latest crisis. The hand in the Volvo's moonroof disappeared.

“Attention Bio-Devisors; the person who created the Puppy-Monkey-Babies has detention in Hawthorn and helping the sewer team until they graduate. If the identity of this person isn't brought forward by the end of the week ALL OF YOU have this detention. The rest of the student body is allowed to destroy these abominations when they come across them. Bounty of 50 dollars will be paid for each head brought in.”

Grace Conner rubbed at her face thinking it was to darn early for this kind of talk as she glanced over at Katie Phillips, then over the three children around the kitchen table.

“Jess have you never wondered how I met Captain Courage, your father?”

Her currently female child scrunched up her face. “No offense mom, but I try not to think about things like that...”

Grace rolled her eyes at that. “Before I met him I was on my way to Paradise Island to see about becoming an Animan. If I hadn't met him at that bar you and your sister would have been born with spotted fur and tails.”

That dropped Jess's jaw to the table.

“Grace, does that mean your kids qualify to be Bad Seeds, as their father is one of the biggest child support dodger in the world?” Katie asked before sipping from her mug of coffee.

"Now that we have your class schedule settled, there is one more thing I need you to attend to," said Mr. Lodgeman with a somewhat apologetic tone. "Since this is your second year at Whateley, and you have not specifically requested a by on combat courses, you will be required to join a training team."

Miyet groaned. Lodgeman had brought the topic up before, and several of her friends had, too, hell, even Firewoman had even mentioned it before she left. She wasn't looking to dodge the training schedule, far from it, but...

She sighed. "I still haven't really found any teams that would take me." It was a flat out lie, of course, but the truth was that most of the teams she would have wanted to join were full already, and the others were... well, not so great.

With a sympathetic smile, he shook his head and replied, "I know of three teams that have asked for you specifically."

That surprised her. "Three?" Both Wondercute and Power Cats had been bugging her at the end of last semester, and she'd done everything short of beating them away with sticks. "Which ones?"

"As it happens, a representative from one of them is waiting to speak to me, if you would like, I can have her come in."

Miyet nodded, dreading what came next. To her surprise, however, the girl who entered through the wall - not the door, the wall - was unfamiliar to her.

"Uh... hi. I'm Greer Walker..." she said, hesitantly, using the pseudonym Alex had insisted she use. "Ah, you can call me Miyet."

"Oh, thank God," said Lemure, "You have got to help us. If I don't get at least one competent person on our team, I'm gonna die!"

Something that came to mind after the "Ayla buys Tibet" joke in another thread...

The Iron Dragon headquarters, somewhere in China...
"So," the Iron Dragon inquires of his corpulent general, "What is this I have heard of a Westerner in Tibet?"
"It's true, my Lord", the Duralumin Salamander responds. "I tasked my lieutenant, Nylon Gecko, with researching the details. If you would like, milord, he could give a presentation now..."
"Proceed."
"Ah, your lordship" the tall, thin lieutnant begins, "It seems that your attacks on the Communist government of China succeeded in seriously depleting them of monetary reserves. They are getting desperate, and accordingly, are looking for new money sources. They accepted an offer from this American tycoon, Ayla Goodkind, for a sizable chunk of Tibet, including major cities like Lhasa. The terms of the purchase give the new owner considerable privileges, making it an independent country in all but name. Miss Goodkind is using the territory as a sort of private spiritual retreat -- she even invited the Dalai Lama back and offered him the Potala, with the proviso that he would tutor Miss Goodkind in meditation techniques in lieu of rent."
"Unacceptable. A Westerner -- an American at that -- holding a part of Asia as a colonial fiefdom? I thought we had gotten rid of such nonsense almost a century ago. Redraw our strategies, retaking Tibet is now a priority."
"Ah, Dad..." interrupted Silver Serpent.
"Not now, Chu Lan. Daddy is planning an invasion."
"DAD! ixNay onyay ethay invadingyay ibetTay!" whispered Silver Serpent.
"Eh? Pumpkin, I appreciate you taking an interest on my campaign, but this Western encroaching cannot be tolerated!"
"Dad... I know Ayla, from school. Messing with her is a bad idea."
"Now here, daughter, she may have some mutant powers, but it's not like we don't have our own..."
"It's not that. Yes, she is rather formidable on her own, but her friends are seriously bad news. One of them is the Sidhe Queen. Another is the Soke-no-Do, you know, the one who woke up Oolong just for kicks a few years ago? And then there's Tennyo, whose power level is so off the scale that it's not funny. Not to mention Jade... Dad, you would not look good in Hello Kitty. But that's not the worst part. Dad, Ayla is friends with her."
"'Her?' Do you mean... the Handmaiden?" a sudden chill descended the Iron Dragon's spine. "How close are they?"
"Dad, they were roommates."

July 1, 2010

In a burst of static, simultaneously for dozen television and radio communication satellites which had been hacked in the months previous had the Trojan left behind activate and every broadcast television channel and radio station was drowned out and replaced with the image of a powerfully built man wearing a black double-breasted tunic with a vaguely military cut and white piping. On the left breast was a silver medallion of the international biohazard symbol and black leather gloves that came up to his mid forearm were revealed when he gestured. His face was covered in a black cloth Hood through which only his intensely gold eyes glowered.

"People of the world, I am your sovereign Night Death. I speak to you as a warning to the pathetic fools who call themselves your leaders. I hereby proclaim myself Emperor of the world and I give your United Nations 24 hours to surrender and yield their powers to my authority or I will unleash a plague that will eradicate all human life on this planet save for myself and my loyal followers. Unless the United Nations announces its unconditional surrender in 24 hours you will all die! Any attempt made on our royal person or our followers and minions and I will eradicate all life on this planet. Any show of resistance to our will and I will eradicate all life on this planet! This is your only warning! Surrender and submit or die!"

Jet slunk back into Poe, and saw Toni coming down the stairs. "Hey Toni," she called out.

Toni bounced over to Jet, "How's Cyberkitty doing?"

Jet frowned back, "I don't know. I got a 404 Error."

Toni's face went blank, "Huh?"

"Paige Not Found."

Jean-Armand lurked around the corner from his trap. It was a red flag day, and a perfect opportunity to enact his plan and gain access to Madskillz' files, ensuring that his next attempt to secure an angel from that girl wouldn't gain the attention of Security this time.

He had seen what a small amount of the substance would to do the fairy girl, and knew she'd be the perfect distraction. She would be forced to use the tunnels today, and the ensuing chaos would provide the perfect distraction. He chuckled to himself about the brilliance of this plan, though Jadis and Belpheobe had both dismissed it as stupid. They'd see.

The large plate of macarons under a glass dome, twice the normal amount of sugar in the buttercream, stood a few corners from the Crystal Hall elevator. Jean-Armand had labeled it from the Beret Mafia as a fundraiser, a small collection box claiming that it would sponsor a trip to New York to visit the Impressionist exhibit.

"Ooo, cookies!" exclaimed the voice around the corner. That wasn't the fairy girl, Jean-Armand noted with growing dread. They had no reason to use the tunnels!

"Toni, No!" hollered another voice, the Goodkind girl, if Jean-Armand recalled correctly.

"Mmrrm?" replied Toni Chandler's voice. "Buff iz onry free fur a dollah!?"

Well...it didn't go entirely as planned, mused Jean-Armand, but the end result was still the same. He couldn't wait to gloat to Jadis.

Overheard during lunch at Whateley Academy's Crystal Hall:


"Here we go: National Council of Sorcery Registration Boards path to Certification for Sorcerors"

"That doesn't sound pretentious, not at all."

" ... One should take note that 'reciprocal agreements exist among the United States, Canada, and Mexico, Australia, New Zealand, and the United Kingdom.'

It looks like the way to go is to start through this program on your UK citizenship, then finish up with the usual recommendations, character references, and - for certain - pass your language competency requirements. You could even rent a room from my parents and go to University of Aalborg for that!"

< What's wrong with my Danish? >

< It's perfectly good, for a back-country Swede. >

Obtain a Four-year Degree from a National Association of Sorcery Professionals Accredited Program."

"Sounds like the usual. Licensed medical practice requires that much, just to start Med School."

"Accredited schools being guaranteed to be listed on another page on the site, five years out of date, contact registrar for updated standings. Beware of the leopard."

"That's a bit cynical, isn't it?"

"My first language is bureaucratic obfuscation."

"I thought it was Acronymic Militarese"

"Related dialects, equally opaque."

Gain and document the required experience:
All 54 U.S. jurisdictions (50 States, plus Puerto Rico, District of Columbia, Guam, U.S. Virgin Islands)
accept the Sorcery Experience Program (SXP) - Which requires 3 years continuous licensure.

"By the time you've documented all that ..."

"Leave your cameras on, let the evaluators earn their pay?"

"That's cruel. I like it!"

Sorcery-related degree holders can meet the education requirement through documenting two times the SXP requirements (7,480 hours).

"Just under four full-time years, if you can find the work."

"Who gets away with 40-hour weeks starting off?"

"Frenchmen. And mages."

Pass all divisions of the Sorcery Registration Examinations

Meet any extra jurisdictional requirements.

"Translation: Avoid Pennsylvania. They've got some odd laws on the books."

"That would be in comparison to?"

"Just saying. Some things are legal elsewhere, even in Kentucky!"

"Including first cousins?"

"That's Tennessee."

Have your National Council of Sorcery Registration Boards Record transmitted to the jurisdiction where you would like to be licensed.

Integrated Path to Sorcery Licensure

Participating programs include:

Bromwell College
Harvard University
Massachusetts Institute of Technology and Thaumaturgy
Miskatonic University
Raft College
Rutgers University
Princeton University
Salem Academy*
Sarah Langley College
Tulane University
University of California, Berkeley
University of Chicago
University of Florida
University of Los Angeles
University of Sedona
University of Southern California
University of Washington
Whateley Academy**
Yale University

* via Memorandum of Understanding with Harvard University
** via Memorandum of Understanding with Miskatonic University

"If they'd ever visited Campus, that would read 'Disintegrated Path ...'"

"Non. I 'ave 'eard that Misk U's Magical Arts and Archaeology Program has a worse safety record than the Workshop."

"Oh god."

"I don't think he makes house calls to the Miskatonic Valley except in Wrath Season."

The Banshee's Tale wrote: "Above and beyond everything else, you should trust me because I can and will help you, to the very best of my ability and every thing we discuss will be held in the strictest of confidence. No one at this school has the power to compel me to disclose anything you tell me and should I volunteer it I will rightly and justly loose my license to practice. Whatever secrets you have are absolutely safe with me."

"Don't you mean that you would lose your license?" asked Tansy.

"No, I mean precisely what I said. If I disclose anything you tell me, I will will be compelled to take my license to practice off of its leash and allow it to roam freely as its ancestors once did, to kill and be killed upon the winding paper trails lacing the verdant coffee grounds of the Hell of Bureaucratic Obstruction, whence it originally came before I domesticated it. I do not think I could bear the loss and loneliness this would entail. I'd sooner run my own heart through the paper shredder than permit my poor license to face one alone upon the Teak and Oaken Plains."

"Are... are you sure you're sitting on the right side of that desk?"

Dr. Markham looked at Tansy with a bemused expression. "I'm sitting in the middle of the desk." She pointed to the laptop screen on the right side of her desk and leaned forward to whisper. "That's the monitor. He's the one who reports me if I give away your secrets. He's pretty nosy for somebody who doesn't have one." Her eyes flicked to the screen for a moment before snapping back to Tansy. "But don't tell him I said that. He's very sensitive, and if his feelings get hurt he'll clam up and keep me from getting any work done until IT can come over with some laxatives."

"I, um, I think I'll be leaving now..."

"Okay, Miss Leaving. Now, will you tell me why you're here?"

Kettlekorn wrote:

The Banshee's Tale wrote: "Above and beyond everything else, you should trust me because I can and will help you, to the very best of my ability and every thing we discuss will be held in the strictest of confidence. No one at this school has the power to compel me to disclose anything you tell me and should I volunteer it I will rightly and justly loose my license to practice. Whatever secrets you have are absolutely safe with me."

"Don't you mean that you would lose your license?" asked Tansy.

"No, I mean precisely what I said. If I disclose anything you tell me, I will will be compelled to take my license to practice off of its leash and allow it to roam freely as its ancestors once did, to kill and be killed upon the winding paper trails lacing the verdant coffee grounds of the Hell of Bureaucratic Obstruction, whence it originally came before I domesticated it. I do not think I could bear the loss and loneliness this would entail. I'd sooner run my own heart through the paper shredder than permit my poor license to face one alone upon the Teak and Oaken Plains."

"Are... are you sure you're sitting on the right side of that desk?"

Dr. Markham looked at Tansy with a bemused expression. "I'm sitting in the middle of the desk." She pointed to the laptop screen on the right side of her desk and leaned forward to whisper. "That's the monitor. He's the one who reports me if I give away your secrets. He's pretty nosy for somebody who doesn't have one." Her eyes flicked to the screen for a moment before snapping back to Tansy. "But don't tell him I said that. He's very sensitive, and if his feelings get hurt he'll clam up and keep me from getting any work done until IT can come over with some laxatives."

"I, um, I think I'll be leaving now..."

"Okay, Miss Leaving. Now, will you tell me why you're here?"

Razerback I didn't know you moonlighted as a shrink.

"Can I see your credit card please?" Renee asked the hotel guests.

The card was handed over and from the looks of it and the couple it was loaded. Typing the number into the hotel computer she took a second to flick it around in her palm memorizing the three digit security code on the back before anyone could even see the movement. Handing the card back she continued the check in without any problems.

Once the guests were gone and she finished the tiny bit of work necessary, Renee took a minute to zip around the hotel lobby sweeping and dusting the entire area in a fraction of the time it would take a baseline.

As a speedster and low level exemplar the hotel job was boring, well beneath her abilities, but as she thought about the lovely ermine fur coat someone else's credit card would purchase next month, she had to admit that it had its perks.

"This is going to suck," Jenny Mizushima said as she stared at the table set up in the Dickinson cottage kitchen.

"Why do you say that?" Her new roommate, Rebecca van Jones asked. "You're just materializing food, it's easy isn't it?"

"Do you know the legend of Uke Moche?"

Rebecca shook her head.

"My grandmother told me most of the old Japanese legends, and she told me that Uke Moche was the goddess of food. She could make any type of food imaginable, and even after she was killed her body turned into all kinds of food so that The Japanese would never go hungry. I thought she was a legend, and a dead one at that, but somehow I got her spirit, and I make food the same way she did," Jenny said with a groan.

"And this is bad why?"

"Watch and learn."

Jenny opened her mouth impossibly wide, and suddenly a freshly plucked turkey fell on the table. Gagging, Jenny let loose a stream of fruits that somehow all hit a gallon size bucket. A string of curses was cut off by a long trail of perfectly made noodles. Holding onto the back of a chair for support more food erupted out of her mouth. Finally it ended and Jenny was able to close her mouth, allowing her to rub her aching jaw and wipe away the sweat dripping down her face.

Taking a big drink of water Jenny looked at her roommate with runny red eyes. "I have to do that everyday or I get bloated and it comes out in an even bigger rush. If I'm lucky it will become easier once the spirit has settled in."

Rebecca stared wide eyed at the heavily laden table and then at her roommate. "I don't think I'll ever eat again."

Bianca walked up to the MMM table to find a Tia shivering in fury, trying to remove the odd 'hat' some prankster gifted her with. Watching as Lapin stormed out of the dining hall, she took the seat the other girl had just vacated.

Laura, focusing on some calculations she was scribbling to the point where she was apparently oblivious to Tia's departure, said to no one in particular, "Do you happen to know what the cycle rate for that damper was? I might be able use that to counteract the effect, even if it is partly magical."

"I have no idea what you are talking about," Glyph replied, "But that was a bunny with a pancake on her head."

Razorback slinked into the corner, afraid. He knew that he would eventually pay for his little prank, he just had not expected something on this scale. Looking around campus, all he could see were students walking around, wearing shirts and baseball caps that said 'I am not a hat!' on them. How Headrush had gotten Ribbon to co-operate, or the entire student body for that matter, He did not know. Worst of all, Jericho had somehow made copies that flashed different colors for the rest of the Outcasts to wear. Looking around, he slunk off to hide under his bed until it was all over.

(The bullying idea is shamelessly taken from Elrod's story What's New Pussy Cat)

Wednesday, August 30th, 2007 - Before Supper
The Quad, Whateley Academy

Teri watched with growing anger as the boys surrounded her cottage mates. Their words could have been considered nice, but the way they were leering and crowding the Whitman girls was anything but. Because of her size she was being ignored, which just made her more furious.

"Didn't you jerks get in trouble yesterday for this same crap?" Mary asked, her wings out and surrounding her in shimmering black feathers that seemed more like a 2D computer drawing then real.

"We're just talking," one of the bullies said. "And we're hoping that being in the presence of such fine gentlemen as ourselves will keep you from running into any of those bullies who might want to hurt you. How are your ribs feeling after that bastard Rotti hit you?"

When the bully smirked and reached out to stroke Mary's cheek and the rest took another 'casual' step forward Teri couldn't hold herself back anymore. Flying down she got right in front of the guy who was trying to touch her roommate.

"Hi! I'm Teri! What's your name?!" she asked, making sure she sounded super happy and excited.

"Centurion," the bully said, jerking back and answering before his brain could figure out exactly what was going on. "What the hell are you?!"

"I'm a cute little girl who is looking for a big, strong hunk to protect me!" she said flying in close to give his nose a kiss. Then she made a face, "Blech! When was the last time you washed your face?"

"Hey, I just had a shower," Centurion said. He looked around for support as some of the girls giggled and his fellow bullies smirked.

"Oh well that's something. I'll just need to buy you some good soap," Teri said, patting his cheek.

"Wait, what?!"

Teri flew back a foot to look him in the eyes. "Well if you're going to be my boyfriend, proper hygiene is important. I don't want to be laughed at because my handsome and strong boyfriend is all stinky."

That turned the giggles into outright laughter, which only made Centurion more embarrassed. "I'm not your boyfriend!"

"But we'd be perfect together," Teri insisted, flying down to his waist. Everyone watched in horror and amazement as she patted his crotch. "See, you're just my size!"

At hearing the six inch tall fairy say that, Centurion's embarrassment turned to fury. "You lit-"

Not having seen Teri take out Rotti the day before, Centurion didn't realize just how quick or strong Teri was. Instead of moving as he cursed her, he just raised his hand to slap her down. Not braced or prepared in any way, Teri hit him in the chest like a tiny cannon ball, sending him flying, relatively unhurt, several yards away. She was already flying to knock the next bully back when she stopped in midair completely unable to move.

That lasted all of ten seconds when Mary's wings spread out and she gave her best impression of a whirling dervish, using her wings as clubs. The other Whitman girls took off running or joined in on the fun as security and the student auxiliary came charging over to prevent an all out brawl.

**

"Five times in four days, Teri. Are you trying to set a new record?" Chief Delarose asked.

Teri shrugged and gave him an incredible set of puppy dog eyes. "What can I say, my break up with Centurion was messier than I planned. I wonder if he'll call me to make up?"

MID interviews, MacFarlane Stadium

The assigned MCO officer looked to be in good shape and retained a military bearing. Mads 'Metro' Jensen deduced that either the man was a relatively new hire (though he looked a bit over the expected age for that) or he was a field agent newly rotated to a desk job. Neither option boded well in the teenager's mind.

"Good morning. I'm Officer Michael Atkins, of the MCO. Have a seat Mister Jensen."

"Pronounced 'Yensen'" 'Great. Didn't even notice that he had a foreign student on the sign-up.'

"Jensen. Right. We'll be conducting this interview within a silence generator's field. The information that you give us today will be protected under international law and under the Privacy Act of 1974. Do you understand?"

Metro replied, "I understand that said privacy act has more to do with tracking how many places the information is known to have been lawfully distributed than it has to do with controlling that distribution. Also, I understand that its applicability to non-governmental organizations' activities - such as the MCO - are even more limited than that."

Metro paused to sigh, the continued, "With regard to privacy, outside of a few European jurisdictions, 'international law' has more bark than bite. In numerous countries, there is little the MCO can do to safeguard the information it holds, and even less recourse in case of compromise."

"Look. There's no need for hostility here... "

"Hostility? No. Of course not. Part of the job you are expected to do is to gather as much information about me as you can, regardless of other arrangements. Another part of that job is to desist from exceeding the various legal limits of that information gathering. If you still wish to consider that 'hostile', we can agree to disagree. If you wish to escalate beyond that, I believe that both parties are entitled to legal representation or mutually-agreed arbitration."

"Have it your way, then. We can reconvene tomorrow morning at 8AM."

"Very good. 8AM tomorrow, it is."

"The envelope, please."

"No, sir. You, Sir, have terminated the interview already, and so there would be no legal record of receipt." Seeing some agitation in the man's aura, Metro cautioned, "Should you attempt coercion to obtain the contents of a certain sealed letter ahead of tomorrow's appointment, I am fully prepared to press charges. Good day, sir."


Afternoon break, MacFarlane Stadium

"Mike! How have the interviews been going for you?"

"One of the first muties on the schedule lawyered up on me, the arrogant little prick. Get this, the freak had a pair of little horns like a reindeer. Can't wait to see someone mount his head on a wall."

"Hah! What would the little plate read under it?"

"'Metro'. More like 'Roadkill' if you ask me."

"That rings a bell for some reason. Hold on." A minute or two of searching yielded a mix of interesting and disappointing notes. "Mike. You said the kid lawyered up, right?"

"Yep. Said if I thought he was being hostile we could have lawyers or an arbitrator sit in."

"You've called in one of the legal team, then."

"No. It can wait until the end of the day, pull someone in from Boston to put the little shit back in his place. No biggie."

"Your funeral."

"What?"

"Forget I said anything."


0700, In front of Kane Hall

"Good morning, Mr. Atkins, I'm Randolph Crume, here to help with the hostile interview you requested a legal rep for. The school's set up a secured conference room over in Schuster Hall. It's a bit closer to the opposition's home ground than I'd prefer, but this did come at short notice."

"That's fine by me. It'll make a bigger impression on the others when we send this one packing with his tail between his knees."

"Most likely. More than half of the students you were scheduled to see are now booked for that location."


0730, Schuster Hall Conference Room

It became clear to the two MCO officials that the school wasn't above playing hardball itself when the headmistress herself opened up the discussion.

"Gentlemen, I'd like to thank you for responding to the requests for legal representation registered by some of our freshmen. I would offer my services as arbitrator, but I suspect your superiors would consider that a conflict of interest -- as would I. Therefore, I would like to introduce you to Mrs. Marissa Walcutt and Mrs. Solveig Holm. Mrs. Walcutt is a member of the New Hampshire bar, while Mrs. Holm practices international law in London and Copenhagen. They'll be joined later by a Mr. Johnson, who hopes to see to the Canadian Defense Force's interests this afternoon.

Mrs. Walcutt, Mrs. Holm, may I introduce Agent Mike Atkins, MCO, and Mr. Randolph Crume, legal council for the MCO. I would also like to inform you all that while this room is shielded and has been swept as of this morning, it would be advisable to consider the remainder of the building as unsecured. If there's anything further needed, please feel free to ask my administrative staff."

With those preliminaries out of the way, Mrs. Carson left the lawyers to their devises. This would be a good exercise of Marissa's recovery - one that was well within her skills. On the way to her office, she noticed the student who'd prompted the schedule changes walking into the building's foyer. Judging by the look of him, he was on his meds: stone cold sober, brain revved up from a nootropic that helped with both his magic use and his PTSD flashbacks, and in pain from caffeine withdrawal because it doesn't combine safely with Workshop-strength coffee. If the MCO agent had any humanity, he'd recognize the signs of a building migraine and not push the student too hard. Otherwise, he'd be drawing back a stump for poking the cranky crazy one.

Twenty-five minutes into a thirty minute time-slot, Amelia Hartford buzzed herself into the Headmistress' Office. The twinkle in her eye alone would have sent ninety percent of the student body running, had they any instinct for self-preservation.

Elizabeth asked, "I take it that things are going well in the conference room?"

"Let's just say that one of our charges has a poetic grasp of Arabic."

"His inspiration?"

"As suspected, Agent Atkins attempted to put a DFA on a student MMID. The student in question is practically an underdog with no criminal record, not a rager, and - according to their own equipment - not even a mutant; all this transpired in front of a representative of his home government. Expect the phones to be busy as several interested parties become very unhappy. I didn't have to lift a finger!"

"What set the student off?" Mrs. Carson wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know, but it didn't hurt to ask.

"Defaulting back to 'Baseline human' blanks his MID power ratings because everything else could be attributed to one spell or another. The resulting unofficial WIZ-0 rating puts him below the Three Pests and Mugwump. "

"You know we're going to have to show that MID during combat finals."

Amelia smiled even more, "Yesss. Yes, I do. I'm looking forward to seeing what happens afterwards."

MID interviews, MacFarlane Stadium

Eliza looked at the man in the suit with a perplexed expression. She had wondered about the sense of this plan, as it felt as if it were inherently deceptive, which would surely be a sin under the eyes of the Lord. She wouldn't have gone along with it at all if she had not been given permission from the Conduit to the Heavens, whose mortal name was Kerry, but in truth, she didn't have to be deceptive at all, when it came to it. She was pleased that she didn't have to lie to act out the plan. Lying was definitely a sin under the eyes of the Lord.

The plan had been to hold as much information back from the white-devil as she could because they, being evil, would only use the information for evil purposes and to hurt her. It was decided by her friend Sarah that she should use her foreign appearance and poor grasp of the westerner's language to do this, but those two things didn't have to be faked to execute it. It had all been natural. Her olive complexion, coupled with the Shayla her friend Semiramus had gifted her, caused the white-devil in the suit to almost immediately start out with insults, losing his temper, and with it, his powers of enunciation.

Eliza considered whether it was necessarily a bad thing that she could only recognise one word in every five he spoke. While it was probably good for her mental health, she felt, it punctuated the lack of progress she was making in the westerner's language. No doubt she would have to spend more time with Mister Smith over the coming weeks.

She just hoped that she didn't have to have the possessed boy join her. She had been convinced, mostly by the words of the Conduit, that neither she nor most of the school was truly possessed, but that boy...

Well, to say that the only reason she spoke to him at all was the fact they could speak in Arabic, wouldn't be a sin under the eyes of the Lord.

Somewhere inside the Whateley tunnel system.

Ribbon silently walked down the unfamiliar tunnel. Using her exemplar memory, she knew this was a part of the tunnels that she had never used before. Nor any of her friends. Holding up the blank business card to her right eye, it revealed a glowing line in the darkness. The neon green line invisible to the naked eye stopped at a nearby doorway beckoning the little girl in. “Almost like a cheap horror movie.” Alyss thought as she moved to the mysterious door.

Giving the door a once over, you could easily walk by it. No handle, no markings of any kind, only a small little slit big enough for a business card. Already having the card in had Alyss put in it the slot seeing no other option. The door then slid open revealing the interior. Stepping in the gothic girl was in awe that such a place could exist here inside Whateley. Pool tables, Blackjack, and even a fully stocked bar albeit with no labels on the bottles.

“Hey! Who invited the diaper queen!?” a voice bellowed out from one of the pool tables. Followed by a roar of laughter from every part of the room.

Alyss gritted her teeth and clenched her fist trying not to let the laughter stab through her. “Not even in the darkest corners can I escape from it.” The goth thought while counting her breaths.

“I did!” A skinny pale red head yelled out while touching Alyss’s shoulder. “And if you got a problem with it you can take it up with management. So do any of you have a problem?”

The room fell back into its hum of music and murmuring. As Aylss asked the mysterious red head “You’re Bill?” pointing to the neon sigh the hung above the bar Bill’s Billiards and More.

“Gosh no, Billy is my brother. The name is Birdie.” The redhead responded extending her hand.

“Ribbon.” Aylss responded shaking the girl’s hand.

“Cool I like it. And if you’re wondering why you were invited into our little slime ball, Hippy dropped a hint that you were looking for a place to drop some cash on Texas Hold’em.” Birdie explained. “So be sure to get her something nice with your winnings.”

“You know Hippy?”

“I know Hippy very well.” Bridie said with a wink. “Oh and be on the lookout for AP. He’s the head dealer for tonight.”

“What does he look like?”

“He’s got a name badge, but he does have a crown on his cheek.” Birdie described the boy.

“A crown? Was he in a gang or something?” Aylss questioned raising an eyebrow.

“Something like that…” Birdie responded. “Now go mingle! See who you can steal money from tonight.”

"Welcome, Whateley, welcome!" shouted Mr. King. "Now, I know you're all here for Outcast Corner, but they're running a little late tonight thanks to a surprise sim. So, while we wait for them to escape from Mr. Bardue, I'd like to introduce somebody new who's finally feline ready for their big debut!"

The audience groaned when they saw four members of Wondercute emerge from backstage. Several people got up to leave even before the girls could finish setting up their three TV-headed mannequins. However, as the girls departed from the stage leaving only a fuzzy Danny Franks behind, the audience heaved a collective sigh of relief. Even the people who'd gotten up returned cautiously to their seats when they saw that Danny was struggling to peel off the large Hello Kitty stickers from the front of the mannequins.

Mr. King loudly cleared his throat and Danny looked up. He motioned impatiently for the catboy to come up beside him, and as he did the screens on the mannequins flickered to life. One showed Danny's normal face, one showed Danica, and the third displayed the head of a cougar. King patted the real Danny on the shoulder and then gestured at the boy and the mannequins backing him. "Without further ado, I give to you Danny Franks, the One Cat Quartet!"

Tuesday Evening, November 13, 2007

It started innocently enough...well, okay, it actually didn't.

Michiko Shugendo led the two identical girls into Liz Carson's office. Amelia Hartford followed, as usual. Oddly enough, the often-arrogant crown princess looked uncharacteristically contrite. Her companion, Belphoebe Blackadar-Wilkins looked nervous, but her expression hid a very faint smile, presumably directed at the princess due to her current disposition.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Princess Jobe?" asked the headmistress with a smirk.

"I may have had a...containment accident," the normally haughty princess muttered. The mood in the room changed instantly.

"What KIND of containment failure? Be. Specific. Anything I don't understand, I'll have you clarify."

Michiko noticed Jobe's thighs gently rubbing together nervously as she stood before the three administrators. She snorted softly. No snark? Her pride really was wounded by this, whatever it was. Michi kept otherwise silent as the gaze of Liz and Ms. Hartford bored into the drow princess.

"Well...Belphy and I had sealed up my personal lab space, and it seemed that one of the spy kidz managed to gain entry into the lab before I had sealed it without my knowledge."

"They should know better by now," the headmistress fumed. "Which one of them was it? Names."

"One of the newer ones? The tragically plain girl."

"Carrie Porter?" Michi interjected. The twin girls looked at her with confusion. "Geist?" The blank looks continued. Well, she was reasonably sure, given the nature of the description of a squirrel gaining access to the considerably heighten security and appropriate warnings on Jobe Wilkins' lab space in the tunnels. A deep breath transitioned into an exasperated sigh.

Belphy continued. "We both looked around the area, and it was the usuals passing through for a red flag day, Diamond, Razorback and Deimos, that black-skinned horned girl, Bloodwolf, though there was that one girl passing by stooped for some reason...we were able to secure the labs pace like we usually do."

Michi was sure of it now from the description. It was Miss Porter. She nodded to Liz and Ms. Hartford as a signal.

"So, please describe to me the nature of the pathogen that has escaped your typically vaunted controls," asked Ms. Hartford.

"Well...it was a work in progress," Jobe stated humbly. "It was meant to be both a successor to my crowd control strain, and also an intermediate to a project that both I and Belphy are under an NDA for, prohibiting us to discuss in particular detail. You understand. I can confirm that it is a targeted strain."

"Targeted strain? Against whom?" the headmistress asked, her inner English teacher rising.

"Individuals with an active metagene complex," Jobe replied, rubbing invisible circles into the carpet of Liz' office with the toe of her designer heels.

"And why exactly did this result in a quote-unquote, containment failure?" Liz asked.

Jobe huffed, "The strain was propagating under a filter hood in order to be applied as the basis of two different projects in a number of agar plates. I am willing to admit that, given my particular reputation around campus after the events earlier in the year," she said, glancing at the girl next to her, "That most students know better by now that to attempt intrusions on my lab. Belply and me took appropriate precautions."

"Belphy and I," the headmistress interjected. Michi knew Jobe was better than this. The girl really was flustered by the turn of events that had gotten around her stellar professionalism with safeguards.

"It is airborne, it is contagious."

"What!?" blasted both the headmistress and her assistant at the same time.

"Deatils," Ms. Hartford pressed. "Incubation period. Symptomatic duration. Effects. In order please." Michi noted that for once, Amelia was actually far angrier than Liz. She remembered that the assistant headmistress had requested the entirety of the week of Thanksgiving off, and the week after. Oh, Michi thought as she made the connection. To her credit, the crown princess of Karedonia replied in a highly consice and clinical manner.

"Approximately 48 hours, another 36 hours, and largely limited to debilitating sneezing fits. Once it settles in soft tissues and begins incubation in the nasal cavity, countermeasures are pointless."

"Elaborate please," added Liz.

"My standard bacteriophage tied to disrupting those strains with the unique marker I apply to my work. I injected Belphy and myself routinely during development, it is airborne after all, and once we realized that my laboratory was compromised, I provided the same treatment to Jads, Nacht, and Superchick."

"Why did you specifically provide a countermeasure to Miss Diabolik, Miss Cooley, and Miss Twardovski, and not inform Security and our offices sooner?" Liz asked of the two girls.

The crown princess gave the headmistress a look, returning to some of her habitual entitled dignity. "I've learned over the last several months that is far better aiding Jadis than attempting to let nature take it's course when she's involved. You understand. Jadis is my Loophole," the princess cutely sneered at the headmistress, gaining some of her usual air back. "Kate, well, you know."

Belphy nodded emphatically. "And a happy Misty is a happy Jadis. A happy Jadis is...well...you know."

"I'll reiterate. You have not provided your unique countermeasure bacteriophage to Doyle, Security and Administration...why?" asked Liz.

"After an hour, the strain is self-sufficient in nasal tissue. No amount of antibiotics will stop it in time before it becomes symptomatic and contagious. The effects are...relatively harmless. It is strange that it doesn't appear to impact baselines, so Security should be fine. It was intended to affect baselines as well." Jobe quickly started muttering to herself and jotting notes in her PDA.

Ms. Hartford turned to Belphy, "Miss Blackadar-Wilkins, when did the breach occur, by your estimation?"

"Last Thursday, shortly before lunch. Oh...it's probably spread through the whole student body. None of the squirrels were at lunch on Sunday, nor were the two freshie prankster girls, and the magenta elf who claims she's not Sidhe was sneezing like crazy."

Thursday Evening, November 14, 2007

Michiko Shugendo was panicked. The student body had, largely, gone through the full course of the virulent strain ravaging the Academy. But it was doing a number on the staff. Security thought it was hilarious, she glowered at the screen before her. Easiest two days they've had in the past several months, Delarose had said. The more recent hires seemed to be particularly amused.

Michi was the last one in administration that had yet to succumb, after isolating herself for the past two days as instructed. Immediately after the meeting with the girls, it seemed like Amelia had deliberately gone out and get infected, so that her travel plans wouldn't be impacted, bringing the plague to the staff exactly in the timeframe that Jobe suggested. Acting as headmistress with Liz out, Michi shuffled around the staff as best she could. She had staff from Doyle covering some of the more specialized topics, but for the general education classes, she was three short. A lot of the students had been skipping, even after they recovered, but since most of them were healthy by now, they had been returning to their classes. Security was busy corralling the student body that had been cooped up for the past few days and were getting their frustrations out on each other. She didn't dare bring any of the parents she knew wouldn't mind covering. Whateley was effectively quarantined for any mutants.

Hopefully Liz wouldn't fire her for this she fretted...and she dialed the number for the Vermont Board of Education.

"Hello, Janice? It's Michiko Shugendo. I could be better. You? Glad to hear it. So, I hate to ask, but do you know if you can find out if any of those in the county substitute pool have active military security clearance? I know, but we're having a bit of a staffing crisis here, and it's the quickest way to determine whether they'll keep quiet about...you know?"

Inspired by the conversation in the Gates of the Garden thread

"I heard you got thrown at the last Renaissance Fair."

"Ug... don't remind me. I'd been bragging that the Devisor gene therapy I'd given Jenny would keep her steady under any circumstances. So for the last joust of the weekend they put me up against someone riding a velociraptor"

"Someone's been cloning dinosaurs? Haven't they seen Jurassic Park?"

"No, not a clone. A mutant with bad GSD from what I understand. But that wasn't the problem. Jenny didn't exactly like being in the presence of an ancient carnivore of course, but she trusts me."

"So if it wasn't the dinosaur..."

"It was the rider. Those clothes he was wearing... I-I can still picture them. Every time I close my eyes, there they are. Waiting."

Rottie sat in Twains day room glaring at the tv. The new dent in the wall and his barely audible growl were doing their job ensuring he wasn't disturbed by anyone making wise ass comments about being beaten by a fairy. But he'd probably need to break another head before curfew to ensure the lesson stuck.

"I'm a lumberjack and I'm OK..."

The growling grew as he heard Jericho singing in the stairwell. He knew better than to go after the blind devisor, even if the little shit had been singing that song off and on for the last three days. Apparently having your head used to break trees was funny.

The few boys in the dayroom looked very carefully in his direction and seeing his twisted, growling face quickly exited. His sensitive ears twitched as heavy footsteps came into the room.

"Unless you want a fight, leave," he growled.

"I always want a fight, but not with you," the newcomer said.

Rottie turned to look at the boy and saw one of the older bullies who was dyed blue from head to toe. "You're Buster right?"

"Yeah, and like you that damn fairy has pissed me off."

That earned a chuckle. Buster had tried to bully the fairy in the tunnels and been thrown into a vat of dye a gadgeteer had been working on, he was still trying to remove the indelible dye a week later. "Not much we can do about it, she's damn near impossible to catch," Rottie said.

Buster smiled cruelly, "Not if we work together. She's made a lot of enemies, and we think she deserves a bit of payback."

Turning off the tv, Rottie spun the chair around. "I'm listening."

Crystal Hall, Lunchtime


"Can I have your attention please!" Teri shouted, her voice amplified by a fellow Whitmaniac.

Most of the Whateley student population turned to look at the diminutive fairy curious about what she might have to say.

"Last night, every garbage can in Whitman exploded, causing a huge mess. We know that some Dickinson girls did this. Talking to some older students it's almost a tradition for Dickinson to prank us. Congratulations, tradition upheld," Teri said, giving a small clap.

Quite a few students burst out laughing, and a handful of Dickinson residents stood up to take a bow.

"Usually Whitman would retaliate on a small scale, going after whoever they thought were the perpetrators, or just ignore it. Well we freshmen thought about that and are going to take a different approach. We will not retaliate this time, in favour of keeping the peace."

Several students snorted and nodded as Teri admitted that the freaks were too scared to challenge the pretties.

"HOWEVER," Teri shouted, "if this happens again we will punish all of Dickinson. For two weeks we will prank every single floor, many, many times. In the third week, at some point I will enter Dickinson at night, with a large thermos of devisor coffee. At which point I will drink the coffee and the fun will begin."

The evil giggle made many of the students look at each other nervously, most shook it off and started laughing at the uppity freshman. What trouble could a little freak fairy do?

Three weeks later

Mischief peeked through the Dickinson kitchen window and seeing the coast was clear teleported inside. Invisibly she put some fish still wrapped up in the fridge with a note saying 'Calla's Don't touch'. A bag of flour that had sandwich bags full of powdered jelly beans, a bag of sugar full of dye packs, a can of baking soda with itching powder, and a bottle of honey that contained several stink bombs went into the cupboards.

Holding back a giggle Mischief teleported out and casually walked away. She couldn't wait to see if her ideas worked.

**

"Are you sure prancing Whitman was a good idea?"

"Of course it was. What are the femme freaks going to do about it. We have all the windows and doors rigged so nothing is going to get inside without us knowing about it."

"Well if you say so."

**

Teri quietly unzipped the backpack and slunk out into the Dickinson dorm room while the owner of said backpack was in the bathroom.

Stretching her wings, she flew up to the ceiling and moving a tile slipped into the dark opening unseen.


The next morning

Anna yawned as she waited in line for the shower. For some reason it seemed to be taking longer than usual for the girls to get clean.

As she waited she saw one girl who had just gotten out of the shower and dried off, stop and pat her skin. "Why am I so sticky?" She asked.

Anna became more curious as two other girls who had already had showers came back combing their hair which seemed gelled in places, and wiping their hands on some wash clothes like they were sticky.

Suddenly a girl in the far shower screamed and jumped out. Her hair and skin were neon purple.

Backing away Anna tried to avoid getting trampled as more girls came in some because of the screaming, others yelling that they needed another shower.

Making her way back into the hallway she saw the girls from one floor up come racing down the stairs holding their noses. "DON'T GO UP THERE!" One shouted. "It reeks!"

As the girls made there escape, there was a pop and the stairway filled with powder. Anna jumped back just barely avoiding the powder. She ran for her room as she saw the girls who were caught in the madness start to scratch madly at wherever the powder had touched.

Getting inside she slammed her door shut got dressed in record time and jumped out the window. THere was no way she wanted to be caught in that mess.

**

"Teri we know you pranked all of Dickinson today, if you just admit it, you may get off with just a long stint of detention."

Teri smiled up at the officer. "Prove it," she said.

**

Two weeks later

The girls from Dickinson cottage did not look very pretty.

Two weeks of interrupted sleep, attempts to catch the insane Whitman freshmen, stink bombs, rotting fish in the ceiling, itching powder, dyes, ruined showers, and more had taken its toll.

They knew Teri wasn't the only one behind the pranks, but they couldn't seem to catch anyone. Whenever they thought they were about to there was a distraction, a prank, or something that would make them take off in the wrong direction and the girl or girls would get away.

They were more than ready to throw in the towel but the Whitmaniacs refused to consider it.

**

"All right girls, this is the final week. Teri said she would do a direct attack on us, this is our chance to catch her and make her pay. Is everything ready?"

"We've got everything set up. We're going to get her this time."

**

That night

Dickinson was bustling with activity all night. Girls patrolled the halls, rooms were checked at random, devises and gadgets whirred and beeped to make sure nothing happened.

The next morning the cottage was prank free, but the girls were exhausted.

End of the third week

"So... tired."

"Just one more night. We can do this! I need more coffee!"

"Want to sle--- zzzz"

**

Teri flew outside of Dickinson, fighting not to laugh as she watched lights being turned on and watched the girls fumbling around trying to find her.

She looked at her watch and cackled as the fireworks start.

On every floor of Dickinson they had planted devises and gadgets that were set to old fashion clocks with gears and springs that worked as perfectly as any electronic timer. They were well hidden inside walls, in the ceiling, under beds and furniture.

They went off at the exact same time turning on every hidden booby trap, and setting off every possible detector in Dickinson.

As the bug and electronic detectors alerted their users of the sudden wave of emissions, holograms, sound effects, smoke bombs, and flashers went wild. Monsters roared from blinding lights. Smoke covered doorways and then revealed gateways to hell. Bats flew at girls heads. And a hologram of a little purple fairy laughed and flew through every hallway leading people on a merry chase.

And in Whitman cottage the freshman girls laughed their asses off watching the whole thing thanks to numerous hidden cameras.

The dinosaur stalked through Twain cottage until he got to his blind friends room. Twirling the letter between his scaly fingers. “Jericho! MAIL CALL!” The raptor chirped sounding like a robot. Before passing the letter to his friend at his desk.

“Okay, R. Lee Ermey.” The blind divisor responded taking the letter in hand.

- What is it? - The raptor signed earnestly.

“Why it’s a letter Pinky. A letter from the Illinois Public Transportation System….and apparently I am banned for life.” The boy said paraphrasing the letter.

The raptor chortled a laughter in response before signing. – Be careful the MCO might lock you up now! –

“No, this is exactly what I wanted.” Jericho explained as he pulled out a map from behind his desk. “I have been banned from every major city’s public transportation system. Most of them were easy. Just sending a photo was enough. Some were more difficult, but just showing up in person set them off. Now…I move onto the last city on my list, my magnum opus!”

- Which is? –

“Austin, Texas. I have no idea what their breaking point is, but mark my words, I will find it!”

September, 2016

Darcy Gleason sat on a bench in the quad and sighed. Three more. She removed them with three quick flicks of her fingers.

She realized that twice a week wasn't good enough until she finally got used to all...this. She tapped her phone to add a reminder to stock up next time she went to the campus store.

Curling the next section of her waist-length black hair, she located two more split ends. She was starting to get pissed. It had never been this bad when she still had silky blond hair. Was it New Hampshire's air? Was she still stressed of getting run out of town in Virginia? That was back in April! Was it her classes? Was is that she felt so useless compared to everyone else around here?

"Getting into a funk again isn't gonna help this," she mumbled, and ran the PK claws on her index and thumb across each other, neatly removing the next two split ends. She grabbed the next section and started twirling it around her fingers as a satyr girl and a black girl with a hoodie over her uniform, hood up, walked into the quad.

"Okay...that's one thing I don't actually miss," laughed the girl in the hoodie to her friend.

Darcy looked up and saw the two girls looking at her work, and she saw...something under the hood. A security guard spotted the pair and stalked up to the two girls. "Green flag day miss. You don't have to have your hood up." Darcy noticed the girl flinch, and the satyr girl calmly tried to assure her friend.

"It's okay Ekene."

"But...they'll see..." the other girl stammered, seeming to curl inward and lose a lot of the confidence she had when they two had joked about Darcy's split end hunting.

"Nobody will mind, or if they do, I'll have Adam show 'em why," the golden-haired girl chirped. The girl reluctantly pulled back her hood, revealing a girl with beautiful facial features and six green writhing snakes on her head where there should have been hair. She cringed as Darcy looked with curiosity. The blond flicked her head to the side and squealed. "Adam!" She ran off, leaving her friend standing embarrassed and awkward next to Darcy. The girl tensed and prepared to flee.

"Wait!" Darcy cried out, and the girl turned.

"Your...snakes," Darcy bumbled out, trying not to offend the girl. The girl, Ekene, Darcy surmised, stifled a sob and prepared to run again.

"I said Wait!" Darcy yelled out, and grabbed the girl's wrist. The snakes coiled and hissed at Darcy, but she wasn't bothered by it. "Are you taking care of them properly?"

"Huh?" Ekene gasped, tears starting to well up in her eyes and she tried to get out of Darcy's grasp.

"Carson, he's my cousin, he liked to keep a lot of snakes. I mean like thirty of 'em, and he's a weirdo and all, but he treats them like someone else would treat kittens. Gosh, I'm babbling, aren't I? Anyway," Darcy moved her hands to Ekene's upper arms, out of the reach of the clearly upset and annoyed snakes. "Sometimes, they wouldn't shed properly and he'd have to pick off some of the leftover bits."

Ekene looked even more embarrassed, knowing that she had a few spots.

"So, I guess what I'm trying to say, if you don't mind, could I, maybe, you know, help you?" Darcy blushed, despite herself. "I was in my second semester of cosmetology at my tech school in Virginia when I manifested. I kinda miss it. Whateley's classes are fun and all, but..."

Ekene's panic had started to wind down thanks to Darcy's calm demeanor about her snakes and equal embarrassment, as Darcy's inner gossipy stylist started to come forth.

"My aunt and uncle, she's totally his trophy wife by the way, they took me in some place called Westport Connecticut. He's rich by the way, hedge fund stuff. Anyway, they got me my MID and shipped me up here. The Waynesboro Sherriff don't know I'm here, and Mom, and Dad, and Aunt Emily ain't saying a thing. But I'm babbling again! Ekene, right?"

Ekene nodded, somehow completely forgetting about how she had been starting to break down after Dawn abandoned her. "I could use the help with them," she gestured at the hissing snakes, "But, they can bite and their venom is really strong." Ekene took a few deep breaths and her snakes finally calmed down.

"Hmm..." Darcy dropped her hands from Ekene's arms, now that the girl wasn't going to flee at the attention. "I got an idea!" Darcy beamed, which got Ekene's snakes agitated again. "I know this boy in my algebra class, he's one of them gadgeteers, and he was showing off his messenger bag made out of this 'kevra' stuff. Was bragging that its really resistant and stuff, and we can make stuff out of it here at school, though it is really expensive outside of Whateley."

"Won't they puncture through?"

"Hmm, dunno," Darcy shrugged, not letting these problems get in the way. She found a way to be happy again here in freezing New Hampshire, darn it. Nothing was going to stop her now. "I'll see if I can Henry to stick some plastic bits on it or something. Like the stuff in Daddy's hiking boots so the snakes don't bite him when he's out hunting white-tails. It'll be like gloves for coloring jobs, just...for biters."

Ekene couldn't help herself in the force of the girl's bubbly enthusiasm and a smile soon grew on her face.

"So, conditioner for me, soft-tipped tweezers, talk to Henry, some sand, some mineral oil, washcloths, a towel, hmm..." Darcy tapped the list into her phone. "Let's see...does Saturday after lunch work for you?"

Ekene thought about her class list and nodded.

"Whitman bathroom?"

"Sure. Second floor. I'll let Mrs. Savage and the RAs know. We can meet in the common room."

"Not the cafeteria?"

"Well...I guess that would work too."

"Great! I'll see you then!" Darcy zoomed off toward the campus store, practically skipping.

Early October, 2016

By the third session, Ekene and her snakes trusted Darcy's hands enough that she didn't need the kevra armored gloves anymore. A couple of other Whitman girls asked Darcy for help, and there was a rumor that some girls in Melville were looking for updos before their next social.

Things were looking up for Darcy. She'd have to get a few books on her tablet, and maybe a few practice foam heads. One of the mage girls on her floor said she should invest in a micro-furnace from one of the girls in the labs, but she didn't know what that had to do with cutting hair.

Late October, 2016, Dunwich

Wendy sighed as she closed the cash drawer at the reception desk of Cordell's. Suzy and Mrs. Cordell came up to the desk.

"What's wrong Wendy?" Suzy asked.

"That's the third one. She just came in for a color job and some highlights, and she didn't reschedule for next time," she looked at Mrs. Cordell, "What's going on at Whateley?"

"You think someone is undercutting us?" Suzy asked. The other two looked at her. "No pun intended. It's not funny."

"Well, whoever it is," said Wendy, "He or she is pretty sloppy with layering. The ends are great though. Not a single split end on that girl just now!"

"Do you know anyone on campus who might know?" Mrs. Cordell looked at Suzy.

"I heard there was some big staff shuffle, but I can try Nikki. She came in last month for a touch up. Singed ends, again."

Mrs. Cordell, "Call her, let's see if we can find a new part timer, or maybe even expand onto campus itself."

Arena 99, Whateley Academy

This evening's sim run for Outcast Corner had left Gunny Bardue in a rare mood. Instead of waiting for a normal debrief, he ended up storming out into the arena himself.

"Outcasts! What the HELL are you doing out here? The stated goal was to capture the FLAG!"

Razorback stifled a bark of laughter as he brought his forelimbs up in the classic "I dunno" pose. The others seemed desperately torn between confusion, mild outrage, and full-on laughter.

Steaming, Bardue addressed the token non-robotic Blue Team member (in case psychics needed someone to play with), "And YOU! What do you have to say for yourself?"

From where he hung, arms crossed as if to claim I am having no part in any of this, the student questioned reached back with his left hand to pull a medium blue cloth from where it had been stuffed into his back pocket. "Do I LOOK amused? Besides," the boy then pointed to where his duty shirt was stuffed in Razorback's mouth, "Teeth."

The rest of the Outcast Corner team finally lost it when Gunny Bardue shook his head, "Don't explain. I don't want to know. Just... put Metro down."

Flying at a sedate speed for her, only a fast run for a normal person, Teri skimmed along the bushes, stopping occasionally to smell the flowers. It was at one such stop, that she found herself surrounded by five bullies.

"Hello, do you want to play some more?" she asked, smiling.

Buster, who had a bad make up job covering his dyed blue skin smirked. "Yeah, we do."

Taking a reclining position in the air, Teri's grin became even bigger. "You do realize I can fly, and you can't, right?"

The werewolf like Rottie let loose a barking type of laugh. "That's why we've got Goop. He's an expert skeet shooter."

Spinning to see who Goop was, she saw a boy in the center of a mass of greenish, slimy jello. Somehow her grin got even larger. Flying over to Centurion she hugged the handsome boy. "You'll protect me won't you, my big handsome stud muffin!"

Scowling he tried to grab her. "The only thing I'm going to do is rip your wings off."

Narrowly avoiding his hands, she flew into his shirt. "That's not nice at all. Our movie night is now officially cancelled, you big meany!" As she finished talking, Centurion found himself being lifted into the air at high speed.

Goop fired off some of his slime covering Centurion who was busy cursing and swearing at the fairy. Safely covered by Centurions shirt with his body acting as a shield, Teri flew towards the slime thrower and cheered when she felt contact. Gripping the shirt even harder she ripped it off of the bully and flew out the other side of Goop with a loud POP.

Throwing away the slimy shirt, Teri checked to make sure she was still clean, then stuck her tongue out at the bullies. "HA HA! You're too slow to catch me!" With her taunting completed, Teri was across the Quad before the angry chasing bullies were even able to reach full speed.

And in Whitman cottage the freshman girls laughed their asses off watching the whole thing thanks to numerous hidden cameras.

Melissa trudged in front of the security guard, her stomach rumbling from having been hauled out of the breakfast line, along with several other Whitman girls. She was a little bit worried about how much trouble they were in, but she hadn't seen Teri being hauled off, so she didn't think it could be too bad.

Well, until she realised the guard wasn't taking them to security chief Delarose's office, but to the administration office. She began to rapidly rethink how she'd have to play this one out when she saw Miss Hartford's face. While she was accustomed to seeing the assistant headmistress in an unhappy or even angry mood, the woman was deathly pale, almost in shock. Melissa didn't know whether it was a good thing that Miss Hartford didn't even say a word to her, as she was pulled straight into Mrs. Carson's office, where her heart sank.

In the front row, standing on top of the chair with a guard holding a capture net over her, was Teri, also looking pale and subdued.

"Miss Chambers, take a seat." Mrs. Carson voice was tight, tense, and angry. When the last of the girls had been brought in and seated, the headmistress lowered a screen, where the girls were 'treated' to a set of views they all recognised; the intensive/emergency care wards in Doyle, where it seemed that a good dozen young girls occupied the focus of activity for the medical personnel.

"This prank war has gone too far." Mrs. Carson proclaimed, still with her back turned to the girls.

"The girls you can see here were the first victims of your activities last night, and consequently, the furthest away from its conclusion, except the three at the end. The injury count at the moment stands at thirty-three, yet there have been no lethal fatalities so far, but that was a close thing. While most of the injuries sustained were healed during the encounter, three children had at least one cardiac arrest last night, with a fourth undergoing several as she attempted to defuse the situation. Ten girls are currently being force-fed nutrients for stage three Total Cellular Starvation." The view changed to another ward, where they could see those girls strapped into bed, a row of needles inserted into their arms, being fed a purple coloured sludge through the lines. Not one of them moved more than shallow breathing required.

"The only reason the casualtiy figure isn't higher is that the rager you instigated happens to be a class 6 beacon healer. Don't breathe a sigh of relief at that Miss Chambers, she's in stage four Total Cellular Stavation." The seated girls who hadn't already, went completely ashen faced at that news. They all knew that stage four meant the body had actually eaten through an organ severe enough to cause it to fail. "She will eventually recover. But she'll be kept in a medical coma for as long as we can keep her there, until she at least has two kidneys and a pancreas again. It is fortunate that the rager is the only casualty that won't make a full recovery by tomorrow lunchtime, but it was a close thing.""

"It has come to my attention that several other, more enlightened, countries actually have made provoking a known rager a criminal offense. If that were the case here, the five of you would be facing federal charges of intent to commit mass murder, since there are currently six known ragers inside of Dickinson who could have been triggered last night. We were fortunate that five of them were already awake, so they weren't as startled as the one who caused all of this. As of now, any feudal interaction between Dickinson and Whitman is over. There will be no retaliations. There will be no escalations. I know you five assisted each other in this campaign of terror, so you will each be performing two month's detention. I will decide later where and how you will spend those months. Get to your first classes. Now."

Even without the thunderous edge to her voice to provide the need to get away, the five girls scrambled to their feet.

...beep...
...beep...
...beep...
"Oh my gee, what?" /cough/ cough/ "Ewww."
...beep...
"Ugh, that's disgusting."
...beep...

I would start by saying those were the sounds I 'awoke' to, but that kinda implies I actually woke. A more accurate thing to say might be that those were the words I heard while semi-conscious. My eyes refused to open at first, and when they did, everything was all... weird. Like, shimmery and flimsy. My mouth tasted like I'd fallen over on a beach and swallowed a load of sand. I tried to move my hand up to rub them, but found it was strapped down in like, four different places.

'Wait... was I back at Rotswell?' As the thought came up, it was immediately replaced. What the hell was Rotswell?

...beep...
"Ewwwww, ugh, oh. I think I'm gonna barf."
...beep...

I dragged my mind away from that Rotswell thing, all that was coming up was a memory of being held down and a white tiled ceiling away, and walls that felt soft. Why would walls feel soft? I focused on the voice. It was female, and young. Not as young as I am, but not an adult. Focusing on it let me realise it was in front of me, and I found I could open my eyes all the way by forcing them to look forwards. A teenager, maybe one of the freshman or sophomore girls, though as I knew, looks didn't count for much, was crouching in front of my hospital bed, fiddling with something underneath, pushing it further beneath the bed.

"Ugh, what the hell is going on with her stoma... Oh! You're awake. Hi. Um... please don't be scared. You can't afford to be scared. You're okay, yeah, see, you're okay. You're gonna be fine! I'll just... um, I'll just go get a doctor now. Don't freak out, okay? Your body won't be able to take it." With that, she straightened up, turned, almost tripped on something on the floor, and actually ran at the wall. I thought she'd hurt herself if she ran into it, thinking she seemed quite clumsy after almost tripping on whatever was on the floor, but instead, she just ran through it like it wasn't there.

Great. What the hell have I done now, and how long is Leanna going to rant at me for it?

Alfred Bellows sat at his desk, shuffling papers, when there was a knock at his door. He beckoned the person to enter, and watched as a petite girl poked her head uncertainly into the room.

“Am I disturbing you, sir?” She asked in an uncertain voice.

“Not at all, first day of school is always hectic, but I always have time for a student.”, He looked at the girl, not recognizing her. “Miss… I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name, and not all incoming students files have arrived yet.”

“Lucy… Lucy Marie Jensen”, The girl stuttered.

Dr. Bellows smiled and motioned for the girl to sit. “So, Miss Jensen, how may I help you?”

Lucy, swallowed hard and then spoke in a somewhat sad voice. “I’ve been having problems, and I thought I should come to see someone about it.”

The Doctor nodded and motioned for her to continue.

“You see, I grew up on a farm, just my Father and myself, my mother was never really in the picture. Things were fairly normal, but then I manifested over the summer, and discovered I have a little brother. The first time I met him, he hurt me rather badly, if not for my regeneration, I would have died. Ever since, he’s always there, I can’t get away from him. And he always hurts me. I couldn’t even get away from him here. He came with, and I’m afraid he’s going to continue to hurt me. I’m never going to be rid of him. There isn’t anything I can do.”, She began to sob.

Dr. Bellows handed her a tissue. “If he’s that dangerous, perhaps we can talk to security…”

Lucy only sobbed more. “They won’t be able to help, nobody can. He’s like a parasite, I can never be rid of him, and he just clings to me, taking from me and making my life miserable.”

The sad girl looked at her tissue, noting that there were a couple drops of blood on it. “He’s coming, there’s nothing I can do…“

Suddenly she sat straight up, her back arching as her chest burst wide open. Dr. Bellows didn’t have sufficient time to dodge, as he was pelted with bits of heart and lung tissue, broken bone fragments and torn muscle. He wiped the blood and gore off his glasses and sat stunned as a 6-inch creature that looked like a cross between a snake and a fetus sat on his desk.

The creature looked at him, and frowned. “Great, Sis is badmouthing me again.” The thing looked back at the girl, she had a gaping hole in her chest, the back of her spinal column and ribcage could clearly be seen.

The small worm-like thing looked at the stunned Doctor. “Can I tell my side of things now?”, it asked.

December 23, 2016

Emily Perez sat at the kitchen table with her daughter, sister and niece. White Christmas was playing on the small kitchen TV, but none of them were really paying attention to it. Her husband Esteban was by the stove, helping himself to another hot buttered rum, before heading back to the living room. Esteban and her brother-in-law Jason were having a Die Hard marathon in the living room with the boys, as tradition. They'd take over the big TV later for a Hallmark movie.

Her niece Darcy babbled on about all the strange, no, Emily caught herself, unique children Darcy had met at the school she and Esteban had helped send her to. It seemed far longer than the eight months back when her sister Carolyn had pleaded over the phone to help hide her daughter from the sheriff and the MCO back home. Darcy's "little adventure" earlier this week, before her parents and brother arrived this morning, hadn't helped the sensation she'd been looking after Darcy for years. It really was like night and day from when she had sent the girl along to some mysterious boarding school in New Hampshire. To Esteban's mother's credit, one daughter was enough after all!

Of course Emily had assisted her niece in April without a second thought. It was all too familiar to the way her mother had run her out of the house when she brought a specific Puerto Rican man home from college with her. The same one who just vacated the "Kitchen of Estrogen and Acetone." He'd pay for that later.

"...and they got in so much trouble, Mr. Turner gave them detention in the sewers!"

"The sewer..." Carolyn arched an eye at her exhaustingly enthusiastic daughter.

"Yeah, it's like, THE worst! Usually they made me shovel the sidewalks that aren't heated."

Carolyn's parental gaze, probably capable of bringing super villains to heel, immediately bored into the girl, who somehow managed to stay cheerfully oblivious as she rifled around in her nail kit for the right colors. A large black velvet mat had rolled out on the table so Darcy could work on each of their nails tonight. Emily silently thanked the girl's remarkable professionalism for not chancing the future of her Ethan Allen breakfast table.

The uncomfortable silence was broken by Emily's eldest son Carter, who came in for another soda, but she saw him eyeing the rum. Her 20-year old cracked the can open as her niece dropped a large felt bag on the velvet mat. The contents of the bag made a strange noise. Glass beads?

"Hey, Darcy? Do you mind if I see your MID? Never seen one before."

"Sure!" she chirped, and paused in her current excavation of green gels in the over-packed kit to pull a plastic card out of her simple black leather purse. Carter flipped it over in his hands and read the information off it before looking at his cousin.

"Beautician, huh?"

"Yep! They let me change my codename!"

Her son placed the ID back on the table with a soft click and went back to the movie with his father and uncle. A few moments later, Darcy had apparently found the two shades of green she'd been hunting for and looked at her cousin Valeria.

"So I'm thinking pink background, lilies on the fingers and roses on the thumbs?"

"You can do all the small details like that sweetie?" Carolyn asked, her disapproval temporarily suppressed by Darcy's ever growing repertoire.

"Totally! I practice on my friends. So like, Maggie, she wants them redone once a week. Fran's usually good until you can see the nail growing out. But it's not like I'm allowed to charge or anything! Honestly, I'm almost getting better at this than hair." Darcy looked back at Valeria, "I think...one gem on the thumb in the middle of the rose is enough bling. Especially if it's the first time you've had stuff attached."

Valeria nodded with a mouth full of hastily-consumed oatmeal chocolate chip cookie, the 13-year old excited about her first set of gel nails.

"Okay, I think I have two small rubies in here still. Maggie doesn't end up with a lot of those, and Fran usually likes me to use them because red and gold goes well with her hair," Darcy grabbed the felt bag and dumped a small portion of its contents on the table. Dozens of cut diamonds, sapphires, and emeralds glittered on the velvet covered kitchen table. She began picking through them, locating a small red one quickly and putting it aside before dumping out another handful from the bag.

"Are those..." Carolyn asked. Emily thought the same. They certainly looked like the real thing. They weren't rhinestones, that's for sure.

"Hmm?" Darcy looked up as she plucked a second diminutive ruby from the pile.

"Jason?" Carolyn called, "Could you come into the kitchen please?" The disapproving gaze once more burned lasers at her daughter. This time, Darcy was frozen by her mother's stern look as her father and uncle walked in. "I think you better start explaining yourself young lady..."

Monday November 5nd, 2007
Crystal Hall, third tier
Ceilidh

“Hey Mr. Render, what's wrong?” I'd been hoping it would a quiet start to the first day of the week on campus, but as I ascended to the Bad Seeds table, Mr. Ray and Uncle Jean-Armand were scowling at each other over their breakfasts.

“Huh? Oh, nothing you need to know Pip-squeak. Stuff for us big kids.” Gah, I don't like the way how this guy seems to think that just because I'm in junior high, I'm not important! He treats Aylss just as bad! And she's counted in the freshman year!

“Mr. Render, are you going to tell me, or do I have to take my gloves off?!?” I did not pout. Pouting is reserved for children having tantrums and grown women attempting to weasel something from grown men. I merely insisted that he volunteer the information, with my expression. Or at least, that's how Aunt Alex would say it. The way she says things can be a little weird sometimes.

“It is a travesty, little one. The injustices the lesser members of this school would perpetrate upon our completely honest and fair venture are grave indeed!” Yeah, sure Uncle Jean-Armand. I'm might be a gullible little girl, or so I'd have you believe, but even I recognise that your objection means you got caught doing something.

“Shut up J-Arm. Now she knows something's wrong.” Damn, my expression must have slipped, because Mr. Ray noticed. “Short version is that some of the new members of the cape squad are jerks, and felt the need to show off the size of their cocks.” Uncle Nathan said, from next to Mr. Ray. “But you don't need to worry about it. We dealt with it splendidly. By the way, you still up for some runs on Saturday?” Wow Uncle Nathan, I almost couldn't see you try to change the subject there.

“As long as Leanna doesn't put her foot down, sure. I'm finding it really fun. Kinda hard to resist flying when I do the big jumps, but it's entertaining at least. But are you certain you want 'little baby bottle' there?” His response was to do this weird hand movement that I'm sure would mean something to his skater friends, but was lost on me. “Don't worry about it. The hooligans is just a name. We only care for the feel of the run. Big macho guys are actually outnumbered by little girls there. You've met Gateway and Aquerna, right?”

“Ummm... I've met Miss Anna, but I don't know who Gateway is.” I tried not to look nervous. Who was Gateway and what could they do? Was that someone I needed to watch out for?

“Gateway is a second year Dickinson girl. She rooms with Lynds.” Aunt Jadis supplied, not even looking up from her book as she drank some coffee. “Magic user, can cast summoning spells easily. Neutral on the hero/villain thing, but she's one of the founding members of Wondercute, so you need to be careful.”

“Hey! There is nothing wrong with Wondercute, is there Pern? You just don't have the good sense to appreciate cute like we do, Jadis!” Aunt Lindsay pipped up, with Pern raising his head from her shoulder, where he'd been getting petted. “Oh, of course not Linds, but I'm thinking about Ceilidh's trouble with touch telepathy. Don't want her getting too overstimulated now, do we?”

You know, I'm not sure if Aunt Jadis was attempting to mollify Aunt Lindsay there, or get in a stealth dig at me. I haven't been around the Seeds that long, but as the sort of default “Team Mum”, by virtue of being the one keeping a sort of, not really, leash on the others, I get the feeling she has to snark a lot to not go crazy.

Or it could be the exposure to 'Snark Queen Kate'. Probably that one.

I decided to take the high road and change the subject again. “So... Anyone seen where Jericho is today? I wanna know if I'm gonna be safe to go back downstairs for more food.” Uncle Jean-Armand sniggered. Miss Jobe and the drow actually laughed. Even Aunt Jadis got a little smirk.

“You mean is he going to be safe from you, and then in turn, if you're going to be safe from his rager friends? Don't worry, he's been and gone. And he was even wearing somewhat normal colours, though our little friend Ribbon might have put those over him. Still looked like he was doing the ugly wardrobe thing on purpose though.” Mr. Ray said through his own grin.

“Ugh, don't remind me of that. Aunt Lindsay, can I borrow Pern for a hug? I can feel a rage coming just from the memory of his clothes.” Okay, I couldn't, but Pern still jumped from her shoulder to my lap, resizing to be just bigger than a cat. His scales weren't the most comfortable thing to cuddle, but he was very warm. You could almost just melt into him with his heat.

Lucy Jensen looked around uncertainly as she held her tray of food. She had arrived early to check in with the medical staff and the house mother over at Hawthorne. She had had one embarrassing incident already, scaring her new advisor and counsellor with an unexpected outburst.

Opting for a table that looked out of the way, she sat down. Nearby there was a group of kids looking at her, one girl kept glancing over at her. She was a cute girl with brown hair and eyes, not an exemplar by any means but still cute. She looked as the girl nudged another one of her table mates,
a young asian girl with long black hair that couldn’t be more than 9 or 10.

The girl got up and walked her way. Lucy fretted, ever since her manifestation, she hadn’t really had any friends. Partly because of her being a mutant, and partly because her long-lost little brother kept embarrassing her.

“Hi, I’m Jade!”, the young girl said, in a cheery manner. “What do you do? my codename is Generator, I’m a devisor, and I have regeneration, and my sister is sort of a ghost.”, She looked Lucy, “I couldn’t help but notice your Rainbow Brite shirt. You like Rainbow Brite?”, she asked excitedly.


“I..it’s okay, I guess. I… I sort of go through clothes really fast. This was all I had to wear.” Lucy stammered, “I… I’m called Host. I’m just an exemplar with high regeneration. I have a brother, but he’s kind of a big pain.”

“My friends and I are in a group called Wondercute! You should join us, we defend the power of cuteness, and we watch anime and talk about cute things and beat up on the poopyheads here that pick on people because they are the enemies of cute!” Jade just babbled on.

Lucy looked around, hoping someone would save her from this midget motormouth. There was nobody around that looked willing to save her. Just about then she felt a couple of drops of blood trickle from her nose.

Jade looked at the girl in front of her. “Are you okay?”

Suddenly there was a squelching sound and a loud pop. Jade looked in horror as the girl in front of her literally exploded, covering Jade in blood and entrails and organ meat.

A loud scream carried through the largely empty hall as Jade and Wondercute fled in pure, unadulterated terror.

A small worm-like creature sat on the table, taking in the surroundings.

“At… at … least that … got … her … to stop… “, A small smile crossed Lucy’s lips before she passed out.

Doyle room 218
Friday 24th November

"So...Mrs. Hair Lady tells me you broke your... oh HEY! HIYA MISTAH COSPLAY!"

The little girl, dressed in a Disney^(tm) Belle dress, yellow tights and gloves, with an actual rose tucked into her hair, threw open the door as fast as she could, and ran to jump up at the boy who was sitting on top of the bed. The boy had, at one point, been wearing a rather tight muscled t-shirt that seemed to be designed to pick out and highlight his toned body, some denim jeans, and some actual army issue combat boots.

At one point anyway. Before the point in time where he had decided to pick on the underdogs without noticing the unassuming form of a ginger headed, freckled young boy standing in the middle of the pack while they haggled the cost of Fixx upgrading Chimera's Kilt. Centurion had just noticed the foursome standing without a care in the world, smirked at Legbreaker and Anvil, sauntered over and pushed the devisor/gadgeteer to the ground, knocking over the (currently) female Yang as he fell.

It had taken Jimmy T all of three seconds to turn into an eight foot tall Godzilla facsimile and rip the shirt to pieces as a sharp claw pulled Centurion's arm out of its socket, ripping a severe gash as he tore through the boy's flesh before he could even power up.

"So tell me Mr. Cosplay, who did you try to beat up today?" Ceildih cried as she jumped on the bed and cooed over his shoulder, which had been hastily bandaged by the Doyle staff. She yanked and pushed the boy's torso too and fro, as she seemingly tried to get a better angle to look at him from.

"Siofra, you're not allowed to ask people that. And stop moving him goddamnit." Dave, the male nurse said from the doorway. "You're not meant to make people hurt more. It's part of the Hippocratic oath. Just heal him already." His admonishment was met with an overdramatic pout and a full-body sigh, with the kind of annoyed exultation of "okaaaaaay" that only an eight-year-old girl can manage. As she raised her hand and shot Centurion with a beam of light, he gave her as deathly a glare as he could, though he said nothing.

It became harder and harder to keep it up though, as underneath his bandages his flesh knit back together. He tried to keep it up even as he breathed out with his relief, and managed to at least keep scowling at her as she finished, jumped down from the bed, and yelled, almost as loud as she could at him. "Oh, you have to tell me at dinner what happened! I just gotta know how you got hurt Mr. Cosplay! I mean, I gotta find out who the actually really scary people are on campus. You know, I mean, anyone who can beat up such an awesome warrior as you, has got to be a great fighter!"

Throughout it all, Centurion said nothing, but scowled even harder as the girl turned, gave Dave enough of a real salute for it to be debatable whether she was trying to be mocking, and then became covered in blue hands that picked up by her wrists, ankles, knees, armpits, waist, and hips, and carried her out of the room. Slowly. Almost so slowly there was little point in doing it instead of just walking out.

"Do I need to ask what the hell was that about?" The confused nurse asked as he began checking the charts, doing his due diligence in defeating the bane of all workers everywhere: Paperwork.

He almost didn't get an answer, until in a very, very quiet voice and somewhat mulishly, Centurion spoke: "I was responsible for why she got her armband, and now she's trying to be a little bitch about it in the most annoying way possible."

Los Angeles, California
January 18, 1994 (One day after the Northridge Earthquake)

"Bendis, get your platoon down to California State Univerisity, North Ridge, now. A mutant is causing problems at the emergency food depot and the police are asking for back up. Over," MCO supervisor Rictor said into the radio. He would have liked to go himself, but he was busy using the new MCO power armour for search and rescue. Even in the relatively cool January weather, with the AC at max, he was drenched in sweat and breathing in dust that made its way through the intake system, as he helped hold a pillar in place while rescuers dug a woman out of the debris.

By all rights he should be back in the emergency MCO headquarters, but with all the damage to the city the higher ups had everyone running around doing what they could to help out. And with the communication suite in his command armour, Rictor could direct everyone from anywhere in the city as long as the MCO blimps stayed in the air.

"This is Bendis," the radio crackled. "Getting weird signals and interference, please rep-" the static filled message was cut off by an agonizing scream and died abruptly.

"Bendis, report!" Rictor shouted into the mic. Tapping a button he opened up the frequency to the rest of Bendis' platoon. His demand for information was cut off by the sound of metal being ripped apart, screams and the shrieking of birds.

Frantically he looked at his monitor trying to see who was close enough and equipped to help his platoon.

"BOSS! On our six!" his wingman shouted.

Unable to drop the pillar without killing the woman and her rescuers, Rictor switched to the video camera in the back of the suit. A hundred metallic birds flew in the sky, their claws, wings and beaks gleamed razor sharp. In the center of the flock stood a blue knight in full armour, steam rose from the joints and it held a sword that glowed a horrific red.

Rictor dropped the pillar ignoring the screams that abruptly cut off and bolted for cover. Keying his radio he was met by screams and pleas for backup.

The knight, who was only known by the slaughtered MCO units he left in his wake, ignored the bullets that flashed against his forcefield. Raising an arm he pointed at the five armoured MCO agents and his birds attacked, cutting them open with lasers, claws and wings. Rictor tried to help, firing grenades and explosive rounds into the mass and at the knight, but it wasn't enough. The birds ignored their losses, while the knight casually walked towards him almost daintily stepping over the butchered bodies of the MCO and anyone foolish enough to fight back.

Knocking the gun away, the knight picked Rictor up by his neck. All that he could do was pound at the arm which was as effective as spitting in the ocean.

"You people hurt and murder children," the knight said in a booming voice. "Face your judgement, murderer."

Rictor howled as the sword cut through the best armour the MCO could create, piercing him through the stomach.

As the birds watched ensuring no rescue would come, Rictor saw his murderer fly into the sky.

His dying screams joined those of his fellow agents on the radio.

(I've watched videos trying to prove each of these ridiculous ideas for the last week at work while folding laundry, my brain kept turning them around into a story. Enjoy.)

Boston
April, 2008

The four students wearing identical black and white uniforms sat at a table eating their lunch, rolling their eyes and shaking their heads in disgust as a fifth member of their merry little band excitedly talked with a well dressed man who was just as excitedly showing her a tablet and pointing at different things. Their supervisor, a well dressed blonde woman was trying not to laugh as the conversation went on.

"You see, Teri," the man said, "the Washington monument really is a sign of the conspiracy. It's an obelisk, those were used by the Egyptians and the ancient Syrians to celebrate their gods, and the Nephelim king Nimrod. This is a sign used by those in charge to show who is really in control, and as part of their ritual design of the city of Washington. And you know how we know this?"

"How?" Teri asked, grinning as the secrets of the world were imparted to her.

"It's masonry."

Her forehead furrowed. "You've lost me."

"Masonry, the Masons. George Washington was a Mason, they're part of the Illuminati. That's why we have all those hidden images on our money," he insisted.

"Oh," she replied the truth dawning.

"And do you know who is really behind the Illuminati?" he asked.

"No. Tell me!"

"The reptilians. After the Nephilim were destroyed in the flood, the Reptilians arrived and at first they started to try to mate with humans, but they couldn't." He pulled a picture of a tiny humanoid mummy with an elongated head up on his tablet. "See, this is proof of it, the Atacama humanoid. See the strange skull, and the tiny size, it's only 6 inches tall, but it was at least 7 or 8 years old when it died. How did it survive so long?"

"I can't believe anything would be that tiny!" Teri said in shock.

"Exactly. The head shape is clearly reptilian in origin. But it didn't work, so the Reptilians had to begin shape changing and turning our leaders against us, creating their debased religions and secret societies. They've only recently managed to manipulate the human genome enough to create mutants."

"But what about the Nephilims? I thought you said they were the creators of society and the first religions?"

"They were," the man insisted. "But they were destroyed in the flood because they were so evil."

"What did they do?"

"I'm glad you asked," he said, pulling up yet more pictures. "They destroyed most of the world, from their city in Atlantis. Here, see this mesa, now look at this tree stump."

Teri looked at the two pictures, one of a giant flat topped and smooth sided mountain, the other of a tree stump that looked remarkably similar. "They look alike!"

"Exactly. Before the flood and the disastrous destruction of the Nephilim, the world had trees dozens even hundreds of miles high, but they were cut down and destroyed. The deserts we see today are the dust and debris left after that deforestation. Even the tallest trees today are nothing but bushes that survived the devastation. And we can see this all over the world, the mountain ranges, groves of trees shattered for god alone knows what. Volcanoes are the toxic waste dumps that are still burning to this day."

"But I thought that volcanoes and mountains were caused by tectonic plates shifting and moving."

"That's what THEY want you to believe. Just like the transhuman cyberneticists want you to believe the Earth is really round."

A dark skinned girl rubbed her head awkwardly. "Teri stop encouraging the crazy man. Next he'll be talking about demons infiltrating society, instead of just killing everything and driving the survivors mad."

"But they are!" he insisted, pulling up yet more pictures of Asian girls wearing horns and shoes that looked like hooves. "Look in Japan how they worship Lucifer and the demons. They're trying to make demons cute to bring in worshippers."

All of the students looked at their supervisor who was now looking more annoyed than happy.

"I believe that that has been quite enough," the woman said. "Is everyone done their lunch?"

Everyone nodded, and Teri got an almost inhumanly large grin. "So we're going now? Can we show my good friend something really fun, Ms. Imp?"

The woman looked around carefully, a mischievous grin coming to her lips. "I think that would be appropriate."

Reaching into her purse the woman did something and the illusion dropped.

The mans grin turned to horror as he saw a tiny fairy flying less than three feet in front of him, two horned demons, one a dark black the other with scales on her cheeks and forehead, a girl that looked to be half cybernetic, a hulking stony girl, and one who looked like a humanoid lizard watching him with varying degrees of disgust and amusement.

"Y-y-y- AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" he screamed turning to flee.

"Well that was fun!" Teri said as the illusion returned.

Alyss was enjoying the cool fall air. She walked the path from the quad, passing Whitman. In her peripheral vision, she saw something move by a tall maple. It was a girl. Cautiously she walked over.

The girl was crying. When she got close, she saw the reason why. The girl was sobbing and hugging her knees. There was a puddle of dry blood on the ground, and scraps of what looked like various tissue and organ meat. Her shirt was torn to shreds, and she was trying unsuccessfully to tie the bloodied scraps around herself, to cover her bloody chest.

“Excuse me, Are you okay? Pardon my French, but what the fuck happened here?”, Alyss inquired.

The purple haired girl looked up with large teary indigo eyes. “It’s n...not my ffault. My brother… he... I … “ The girl was wracked with sobs and couldn’t continue.

“Um, my name is Alyss, and if your brother hurt you, tell me where he is, and I’ll have a word with him.” Alyss cracked her knuckles.

“L…Lucy. That’s m …my name. And he’s in here.”, She pointed to her chest, which Alyss noticed was rather flat, and had a scar across it that was slowly shrinking.

“My Power is th..that I’m a Regen 7, and when I… was … I’m … a Twin, and my brother lives inside… in my chest. He… he has to come out each… d...day… kinda rips me apart to do it. It hurts, and I’m running out of shirts, and … I can’t affort to get the blood out of all my underwear and pants, and I buy new shirts every day. I… I’m on … a scolarship, b…but the cost of clothing is gonna make me h….have to drop out … if ... if I can’t… “

Lucy whimpered and put her head down.

“That’s seriously fucked up… pardon my French again. I might just be able to help you though.”, Alyss said with a smile. “One of my powers is that I can make things out of fabric that I can manifest. They only last a day, but if you give me your sizes, I can whip up some stuff for you in emergencies.”
Alyss pulled out her phone, and handed it to Lucy, so she could put her number in.

Lucy stood up and went to hug the young girl in front of her, But she stopped, realizing she was covered in blood. Alyss shrugged, and concentrated on making a simple black tee for the girl to wear, until she could get inside. Taking her phone back, Alyss smiled and said goodbye, happy that she could help someone.

Sara leaned back in her chair eyeing the young man seated across form her. The Youngling GOO was grateful for her rescue from that circular Limbo she'd been folded into years ago, and she was repaying the rescue by overseeing, of all the clubs, the Goobers. But the Old Man had a point; the last few Goober Grads hadn't lasted long due to their shoddy training under Englund and his successor. She wasn't thrilled with the position, but she had to admit that flipping the bird at a mechanization of a few of her more destructive relatives did feel kind of good.

Tapping her VI interface Sara skimmed over the student file for the young man, and Goodber recruit across from her. “So, Simon, it says here you are an Avatar who is immune to the effect of Class X exposure. May I ask how you came to possess your spirit, and what it might be? And how the hell you learned you where immune to stuff that makes your brains leak out of your ears?”

Simon shrugged. “I found an old journal that my Grandfather had inherited when we where cleaning out the house after Gran passed. It belonged to his mentor, the man that introduced him to Gran, and gave them the money to get married and go to collage. When I opened it, I guess I picked up his spirit somehow. It was either the book or the garden gnome. Or the stuffed parrot...” he trailed off looking thoughtful as he considered what might have let him connect to his spirit. “Maybe the sun glasses or the boots? Not sure why Gran let Grandpa kept those nasty boots...”

Sara nodded slowly as she leaned back in her chair. “You're not the first to pick up a spirit from an artifact. So what makes you feel like you can hack it as a Goober, and you still haven't explained the class x note.”

“Well ma'am, it's kind of tradition for the family. Granpa and Gran did it, my mom, their daughter, did it, and my dad's distantly related to the guy Egon Spangler was based on. Standing up to what wants to fuck over humanity is in my blood. And um... ma'am, The Old Man is a might agitated being around you. May I ask what you are?”

“The Old Man?” Sara asked softly, her skin rippling slightly as she put the pieces together. If she had had a stomach she would have been sick to it at that moment. “Your codename is Henderson, and your spirit is...”

“Yessum, Old man Henderson...”

“... He Who got Hastur High before Banishing It.” Sara finished softly, loosing control of her human form. Instead of being driven mad by her True Class X form, Simon Wifflehaus leaned forward for a closer look.

“Cool.”

"That's not fair!" The boy in fatigues exclaimed. "She brought in a whole range bag! I was told only my regular equipment and any holdouts."

The instructor looked at the boy with a flat expression, bordering on annoyance. "Our records show that Beautician has had that equipment registered with campus security for at least a month."

"Yeah, I carry my kit everywhere!"

The boy looked confused. He knew the haircut girl was an underdog, and thought she was in survival. He hadn't heard of her being in any Team Tactics classes, or combat classes of any kind. "Well...make sure she didn't put anything extra in there!" He tried to save face as best he could.

"Do you mind?"

"Nope!" Darcy chirped and unzipped the large olive drab bag with colorful appliqués and patches sewn onto it, revealing an assortment of combs, clippers, aerosol cans, and a disturbingly large collection of nail polish jars.

"Is this acceptable to you?" the instructor asked.

The boy goggled at what the perky girl had brought into the arena. A smug look crept on his face. "Looks fine to me, thanks."

The two teens headed in separate directions and prepared for the match to begin. The freshmen Grunt checked the settings on his railgun while Darcy twirled her hip-length black hair around and around before pinning the mass behind her head with two metal chopsticks each topped with a glittering purple gemstone.

----

"I bet haircut girl doesn't even get a single hit on our boy!" said another boy in Grunts uniform. The hulking student with GSD next to him agreed with a nod.

"We'll take that bet," said the Hispanic girl in a lab coat in the seats behind them.

"You're on!" The four students launched the betting app on their phones and had the money transferred to the bookie escrow. Nearby, others followed suit with wagers of their own. When the transaction was locked, the dark-skinned girl in Grunts fatigues known as Green Zone started giggling. "There's no way that idiot remembers that my micro braids get redone every three weeks!"

---

The match began and a milky smoke filled the arena, but a clear view was shown to the spectators. It looked like they were going for a large scale urban raid scenario. Darcy had her bag on her shoulder, and looked for a safe building to enter. Survival had taught her there was no way she'd last out in the open, not with her abilities.

A twisting vortex of disturbed smoke bloomed just above her head, and Darcy heard a loud pop. It was a good thing she had put up her hair with the chopsticks she was given by that junior high French girl. They magically produced a large 'electro...magnetic?' field. 'Static dynamic?' 'Magno-dynamic?' 'Stagno-magnetic?' Either way. The higher the velocity of a metallic projectile, magnetic or otherwise, the further it got deflected from her head. Or something. It was way above Darcy's head, literally and figuratively. It was magic, it mostly worked, it kept her from getting singed hair, the sticks kept her hair up, and they looked pretty. That's all that mattered to her.

---

He'd missed. How the hell had he missed!? He had a solid bead on her with his quench gun. The sights were calibrated, he checked them once a day for finals. You never knew when you were coming up. He could still see her, center of mass, through the gun's optics.

He knew it. She was cheating! Or she had a PFG. An evil grin appeared. No PFG survived had more than two consecutive shots from the quench gun. He shifted it to burst mode. It would be cooling for three minutes after, but he wouldn't need it after her got her.

He sighted her body through the smoke. At this range, the second shot would be aimed at her head from the recoil of the first. He added a mental note, recoil compensator for the next upgrade on the gun.

He lowered the first shot to her knees, and hoped the arena safety systems held up.

---

She felt a blast of air between her legs as a deep furrow appeared seemingly out of nowhere a foot in front of her. The shockwave of the shot passing caused her to wobble, and the successive blast was deflected over her head. Darcy heard two quick pops, one after the other. Still, Darcy stumbled, landing on top of her bag before ending up on all fours. The impact caused one of the pins to fall out, and then the mass of her hair splayed out around her like streamers.

Darcy panicked, just a little. She didn't have time to find the lost pins, so she scrambled across the ground into her destination, a mocked up storefront. Darcy ran to the back and into the service hallways, getting time for a quick breather.

Darcy pulled the bag off her shoulder, and unzipped the slender compartment at the base of the bag. She slid out the thing, two plates sandwiching a bundle of electronics she didn't understand and a battery too small for general use. She didn't have time to use the AC adapter. Darcy rezipped her bag, grabbed a few things from the main compartment, and trotted around another corner. She tossed a few of the polish bottles toward the first corner and approached the opposite wall.

She pressed the plate against the wall, then rotated the upper plate counter-clockwise. It clicked, mounting to the wall, then she rotated it back clockwise, activating it. A faint whine emanated from the contraption. Hopefully the battery would last long enough. She jogged down the hallway, looking for an escape.

---

He barged into the shop, noting that the door to the service corridor was open. There was still two and a half minutes left on the cooldown of the quench gun, so he slung it over his back. He briefly considered drawing his sidearm, but since haircut girl was mostly focused on fleeing the area, he pulled out his Z7 Riot Control Baton instead.

He paused at the door, checking the corners. As he charged down the hallways, he noticed that there were scattered jars of nail polish on the floor. She had definitely come this way. Eager to put an end to this, he blasted around the corner, only to see a squarish object mounted to the wall, before he felt nothing but heat.

---

The howl of pain was heard right through the arena shielding. The two girls, one in lab coat, one in fatigues, called out simultaneously.

"Called it!"

Green Zone in particular, practically glowed with pride. Her man-portable Active Denial System had a better battery than she thought. She'd given the thing to Darcy as payment and for beta-testing, thinking that she'd use the AC adapter to keep would-be attackers away from her until the police or DPA could arrive. She had never imagined that Darcy might use it in a defensive/offensive manner, but Darcy was nothing if not unique.

---

The two instructors were busy chewing out her opponent as Darcy looked at the folded paper slip in her hand that revealed 'B-' as her grade.

"You got high marks for switching to non-lethal weaponry as well as aiming in a way that she had a higher chance of survival, but I cannot emphasize enough that you need to check your corners! What if it hadn't been non-lethal? What is it had been an IED or a claymore? You’d be paste! I expect a higher standard from you." The instructor's gaze shifted to Darcy.

"Beautician. We're glad to see that you opted to handicap yourself with non-combat items that you routinely carry and while your use of the tools at your disposal was admirable, once you were cornered, that was the end of it for you. I recommend that you consider taking Basic Martial Arts, at the very least, before you graduate. We will, however, commend you on using the bottles to ensure that you lured your opposition into the trap you placed. On the other hand, you lost your equipment that was clearly instrumental to you lasting through the initial attack." Darcy was handed back the two jeweled chopsticks. "I also recommend that you consider a jumbo hair-clip or scrunchie be added to your bag."

"Yes ma'am," Darcy responded. She noticed that the boy next to her had reddened skin from the plate-thingy that she was given by his own teammate. Darcy fussed through the contents of her bag until she found the bottle of skin cream. As the two walked out of the locker room, she handed the small bottle to her opponent, who took it without a single word.

"No, that is totally out of the question!"

"But Arnold, he might be able to help Alana."

A fist hit the table. "They caused it. Do you have any idea what this freak might do to our daughter?! Haven't they done enough damage already?"

Alana flipped the switch on her sound dampener, not wanting to hear the ongoing argument of her parent. A curse escaped her lips as she reached for a tissue to wipe up the blood that leaked out of her cracked, scarred, skin. The tissue was followed by special skin cream, specially made for burns. Moving more slowly, trying not stretch her skin anymore than she had to, she rubbed the cream in gentle strokes sighing as her dry skin cooled and became a little more supple. Her phone buzzed, letting her know it was time to take her pain medication again. She ignored it, the medicine numbed her mind, she could gut the pain until it was time for bed.

The cream treatment done, she picked up her tools again and set to work on her project. Her parents thought she was working on model robots, she had gotten specially made boxes implying just that, but the work was all hers.

With the screwdriver held in her thumb and forefinger, the only fingers still usable on her right hand, she tightened a screw on the audio devise that was in the base of the devise. Once satisfied it was holding the wire in place, she sealed it up and took a deep breath it was the moment of truth, seven months of agonizing labour to reach this point. Awkwardly she put the glove like devise on her right hand. Clamps pressed against her skin, holding it tight as the velvet like fabric went all the way up to her elbow. She had to adjust it a little so the sockets fit into the nubs of her fingers.

Once it was in place she switched it on the audio devise, twitching her muscles a single clear note hummed causing the sonic attuned metal to shift along the physics that she had created. The long silvery fingers of her new hand clenched into a fist before spasming into a a flurry of manic activity. Alana relaxed her arm and slowly the movement stopped. Carefully she thought about moving her fingers like she had before being burned. The fingers moved tentatively, twitching and jerking around, but they weren't completely out of control.

Hours later, dripping with sweat, her arm stiff and cramped, Alana wrote her name in small neat letters.

Tears fell down her cheek as she planned her next move. With two fully working hands she could do the more intricate work that her body required. Pushing her wheelchair away from the desk, she stared at the remains of her legs, already imagining them covered in the silvery metal, letting her walk, run and dance once more. She didn't care what her parents might say, she was going to be whole once more.

Lucy sat at her usual table on the lower floor of the Crystal Hall cafeteria, she was getting used to the solitude, at times she really didn’t mind it. She picked at her ham sandwich and was poking around at the chips, when she noticed a girl looking around uncertainly.

The girl was certainly a fellow freshman, and had that new look to them. She was holding a tray, and uncertain where she should sit. She saw Lucy looking in her direction and took that as an invitation to come sit down. Lucy nodded to the girl and gestured for her to take a seat.

“Hi, I’m kinda new here, I don’t really know anyone. Is it okay if I sit here? I saw you are alone, and thought it’d be nice to have company. My name is Trisha. What’s yours?”

Lucy looked at the girl, She wasn’t an exemplar, but she was cute, in her own way, She was maybe a couple inches taller than Lucy, and kind of thick, in that healthy but slightly overweight way. Her mopish brown hair fell down over her brown eyes.

“So, are you new here too?”, Trish asked in a bubbly excited way.

Lucy looked at her. “Y… yes, I’m new here t…too. My n… name is Lucy.”

Trish giggled with glee at making a new friend. “So, what do you do? I mean, what sort of powers do you have?”

Lucy squirmed uncomfortably. “I… I’m an Exemplar 3, and I have Regen 7. … Most people know me here for something else though… it’s kind of embarrassing…”

Trisha leaned in. “Ooh? It can’t be that bad…”

Lucy bit her lip. “ I sort … well, when I was… in the womb, I… I sort of absorbed my little brother… and now we… well, we are both mutants, and he occasionally… well… you ever see alien?”

Trish nodded confused.

“Remember the chest-bursting scene?”

“Yeah?… oh… OOH!… yikes.”

“Yeah”, said Lucy as she looked down. “My code name is Host, because of that.”

Trish gulped. “I don’t have my MID yet, I think I’m going to choose Backslide as my codename, because I’m a warper. I can push everything in a 50 yard radius away from me.”

Lucy looked up. “That sounds cool. oh, lunch is nearly over. I should get ready for class.”

Trish looked at her watch. “Yeah, I should get back to the testing, it was nice to meet you!”

Lucy watched as Trish got up and turned away. Her new friend walked away, with a slight wiggle that in the tight outfit she was wearing, clearly showed off a behind that would put to shame J-Lo and any number of Kardashian sisters.

“Hm… Maybe she should rethink using ‘Backslide’… “, Lucy pondered.

Dickinson Cottage, Late-October 2016, morning

Darcy was running her fingers through her absurdly long hair and occasionally removed a tangle with a wide tooth comb, like she did every morning as Viola Hartigan put on her makeup on the other side of the room. The only saving grace was Darcy actually knew how to take care of it. Viola probably would have begged to get moved if Darcy was one of those girls that just had like, gross, super-long hair. Ick. Darcy was humming to herself again.

God, she hated her.

Things had been so much nicer at the beginning of the year, when Darcy had been quiet, passive, and depressed. Viola got a lot of studying for her mystic arts classes done when Darcy spent most of her time moping on the benches in the quad or silently watching movies in the common room off to the side by herself, or just lying there on her own bed. It was basically like having a single. It was awesome.

She had even considered letting Darcy hang out with her, eventually. Darcy wasn't an exemplar like she was, and she had made it a point even before she manifested to keep a slightly dumpier girl around her for comparison. It's why she stayed friendly with some of the Whitman girls. Darcy would have been a good addition to her growing pool at Whateley. Why stay a 10, when you can look like an 11 or a 12 because of the person next to you?

At least, everything had been great until that day in September.

Darcy had come back from the quad...happy. And she'd been annoying as hell ever since. She couldn't stand it. True, Darcy was in the room even less than before, but it didn't seem right to her. Darcy was popular somehow, even when she was so useless. There were still ways Viola could enjoy herself. She still swore way more than normal around Darcy, especially while she did her homework when Darcy was in the room. It was funny watching Darcy start blushing, just from some unnecessary colorful language. What a little girl!

Someone knocked in the door. Viola rolled her eyes and pushed down the scowl she so deeply wanted to show. Same time every morning.

"I'll get it!" Darcy chittered. Of course you will. Idiot. It's the same time every day. Sure enough, Darcy's sophomore friends 'Cambion' and Fran poked their heads in the door.

"Breakfast, Dee?" asked Fran. "Wanna join us, Viola?" Viola looked at them through her mirror, and noticed the giantess' slight frown of disapproval toward her roommate. Good, at least the gadget-skank and she were on the same page.

"No thanks, I'll meet up with some of the Whitman girls like I usually do," she answered, carefully filling in the space between her two eyeliner swooshes, forming a perfect cat's eye.

"Bye Vee! See you after classes!" Darcy chittered as she put on her Burberry jacket and left for breakfast with that towering amazon of a gadgeteer friend of hers and her roommate. The door clicked shut behind them.

What. The. Fuck!

The two sophomores had taken Darcy to Boston over the weekend and she came back with that jacket. Viola wanted to steal it and mail it home, but she was certain that bitch 'Cambion' would notice it missing. Even Darcy might notice. It wasn't goddamn fair! Ever since mid-September, Darcy had gotten detention no less than thirty times. Thirty! Yet somehow, somehow, administration had approved a trip for her, Fran, and that bitch Cabochon to spend the weekend in Boston.

She finished her other eye and admired her handiwork. Perfect. Darcy had her hair, Viola had her makeup.

Now to complete the rest of her morning routine. She padded over to Darcy's side of the room, and rummaged around in the box of "thingamabobs" that Darcy kept under her bed. All stuff from the lab girls, and even a few of the boys. Viola dug toward the bottom of the box, and grabbed two of them. She'd pass them to her boyfriend Andrew during English, and he'd check to see if they were gadgets or devices.

It was a pity that Andrew hadn't turned out to be one of THOSE Vanderbilts, but he still made her feel good when they made out in a nook near his lab space in the tunnels. And of course he had his uses. The gadgets he'd take a look at, take some notes, and then return them to her to toss back in the box.

The devices? They had expiration dates, naturally, so she sent them off campus and they were "magically" converted into Viola's growing college fund. Darcy had no clue what she had, and Viola was pretty sure that Darcy didn't even care what was in the box. It worked as a system, but there was still one problem.

Darcy's bag.

Darcy's little "range bag," full of her hair and nail supplies, was actually heavily warded. The other thing of Darcy's with any magic to it in their room was Darcy's microfurnace. She dumped sealed bags of hair into and vented out their window. Even if Darcy took all the right precautions from a mage's perspective, Viola would never let that bimbo touch her hair. But that fucking bag!

Viola didn't know who the fuck did it, she wasn't sure that Darcy even knew, but the only person who could open the zippers on Darcy's bag, was fucking Darcy. And that was the big problem.

Viola wanted the hair chopsticks that Darcy got a week ago. They were in the bag.

Some little French junior high girl down the hall had given Darcy those. God knows what the hell for. Darcy had put them on once or twice since she got them, and Viola felt the significant working that had been applied to them. She'd asked around, and one of the upper classmen said that her friend swore that the French girl had gotten help on crafting them from Miss Reilly. Sister of a friend of a friend sort of thing. She couldn't believe it! THE Miss Reilly, helping out a little exchange student, for a gift to that vapid whore Darcy!

But Viola was patient, and Darcy was a moron. Eventually she'd leave them out. Then they were all hers.

May 12th, 2007
12:10 AM
Near Dunlap, NM

To say that things had not been going right for Robert James Hawkins Junior the past few weeks would be an understatement. Like most young boys, he was physically and socially awkward, and noticing girls for the first time. One girl in particular, Tiffany Brooks. Tiffany was everything he dreamed of in a girl. She was tall, attractive, and smart. She had a stellar personality. There was only one thing wrong with Tiffany, he lived very firmly in her friend-zone.

The past couple weeks changed that, however as things beyond Robert’s imagination happened. First, he had gotten the nerve up to talk to Tiffany, second, he died and came back a mutant. A mutant girl. That second part being the more unusual of the two occurrences.

Two weeks prior, Bob was on his way home from school when it happened. He had been warned a thousand times not to go near the old Brisby place. Everyone knew that old man Brisby hadn’t come back from ‘Nam with all his marbles, but cutting through his property
saved Bob nearly 10 minutes time getting home. He had done it time and time again, however today was different. Brisby actually saw him this time.

Bob ran as hard and as fast as his skinny legs could carry him. However fast he was, it wasn’t fast enough to outrun the rifle shot.
Bob felt the impact, and crawled away, slipping under the barbed wire at the border of the man’s property. He limped and dragged himself for the next mile, reaching home and passing out on the porch.

When Bob had awoken a week later, things had felt different. He soon had found out why. During that time, he had begun to run a temperature, a dangerously high one. That wasn’t the only thing though, while he slept and fought off the fever, his body began to undergo changes. He had gone from a slender, scrawny boy, into a slender, shapely young girl.

—————

Tiffany saw Robert every day at school. He was a nice guy, if somewhat clumsy and awkward. She liked him, but only as a friend.
She had no real attraction to boys. That was just as well, being close to 6 foot, she towered over everyone in her grade, boys and girls alike.

She was walking past the Brisby place that day, and had heard the shouting and gunfire. She was far enough away from the house that she wouldn’t be seen, but she did see something else. Something that froze the blood in her veins. It was Bob, and he was bleeding. She followed him to the house, and went with his parents when they went to the emergency room.

She stayed by his bedside every day, until visiting hours were over. When he began to change, she was stunned. First that it was happening, then by how pretty he was becoming. During that time, She observed quietly as Bob’s mother cried and her emotions were all over the place. She watched as Bob’s gung-ho ex-military father grew more and more disgusted.

When Bob woke up after that week, they talked and she consoled him about how his father had disowned him. She talked to his mother, telling her that no matter what Bob, or Bobbi now, looked like. That was still the child she had given birth to. When it came time to check out, Bobbi’s mother signed him out.

They reached the house a short time later, Bobbi’s dad was on the porch with a shotgun, his Humanity First pin proudly on his chest. Robert Senior aimed it and took fire at his former son.

Tiffany had instinctively reached her hand out to protect her face. She needn’t have worried, as a barrier appeared around her, deflecting the bullet. The bullet ricocheted and hit Bobbi, tearing a fair-sized hole in her shoulder, one that immediately began to close and heal.

The two of them were stunned and scared, and took off. Robert Senior, for his part, hesitated for a second before jumping in his trusty old Ford. He chased them through the back stretch of the property, towards the railway tracks.

Tiffany led them on, if they could reach the other side, the train they heard in the distance could cut off pursuit and give them time to escape. Running as fast as they could, they made it to the tracks, but Mr. Hawkins was on their tail. The train was roaring toward them, and they risked getting stuck on the wrong side. throwing caution to the wind, Tiffany and Bobbi jumped in front of it. Tiffany cleared the tracks.

Bobbi was not so lucky, the train clipped the young mutant, throwing her almost 30 yards. Tiffany picked her up, seeing the mangled stumps that remained of her legs. She carried her newly female friend as far away as she could. They hid in an old abandoned barn, as night fell. In that time, Bobbi was shaky and delirious, but more astoundingly, she was growing back her legs. Leaving Bobbi behind, she made her way home for supplies, but when she got there, she found the local H1 posse camped out.

They were fugitives, and they had to go somewhere, but they didn’t know where. The MCO would certainly be after them, and H1 definitely was.

—————

Lunch, October 29, 2007
Euro-Promotional League Table, Crystal Hall

It was only a matter of time before the hottest question on campus made it's way to the Beret Mafia table. Some were more prepared for it than others, particularly those from conservative backgrounds or those from places where the holiday was celebrated by different traditions. "What are you going as for Halloween?"

The Whateley Academy's own tradition was to encourage classmates to go as someone or something they aren't, assuming they know who or what they are. With omni-shifters like Jimmy T running around, that was a legitimate question, most days. For others, like Razorback, the list of viable options was more limited. However, as a result of the previous year's events, there was one common theme to most of this year's plans, and that was to be well-armed and armored.

"... So, guys. What are you planning for Halloween?" asked Kismet after detailing the well-thought-out theme she'd come up with for the Vindicators- one they almost certainly wouldn't be following.

Rorsmand looked over at the freshman he was supposed to be minding for his government, and cringed.

That was a mistake.

Metro piped up, "I was thinking of something classic, like a rock star!"

Rorsmand face-palmed. As far as Kristian could tell, Mads' idea of a slammin' rock concert involved mosh pits, broken bones, blood, and maybe a nice little post-show riot. He resolved there and then to beg, borrow, or steal a PFG before the 31st. The table became suspiciously quiet.

When he was ready to re-open his eyes, Kristian had to blink a couple of times to verify they were working. Across from him, now sat a tall, slender, modestly-endowed, tanned woman with long ash-blonde hair, wearing a strapless one-piece, opera-length gloves (For the sake of his blood pressure, he was almost glad that he couldn't see the ankle to hip leggings,) all in quicksilver and form-fitting as it the clothing had been sprayed on. The air around her had a faint hint of lavender, vanilla, and warm, clean skin. He didn't even hear the near-misses and collisions that answered the unasked question as to whether all the right curves were in all the right places.

"Too much?" the vision asked, leaning forward slightly as Kris' brain struggled to function without a blood supply.

A voice next to Rorsmand asked, "Bror, when did you start liking Maria Mercurial?"

She answered the youngster, "I did live in Seattle for a good time. It just comes with the territory." If bourbon and recently-worn velvet had a voice, it would have been hers.

Cytherea coughed politely as she stood up to bus. her tray, "I think you should keep that one in reserve." Walking past, she leaned over and purred, "But DO keep that one. For me?"

The woman smiled knowingly, "D'accord!" before morphing back into the wiseass Thornie they were generally almost used to.

Valravn whispered something into the magician's other ear.

"Really? Consider that a done deal!" came the delighted reply.

'Let's make that a PFG, riot gear, and spare ammo - all by the 31st'

"Are you all right?" Alana asked the boy sitting next to her. She wished that she could remember his name, he looked cute, but she'd always sucked at names, and as the new girl in school she had already been introduced to dozens of new people so her brain seemed to be well past it's name limit.

The boy nodded a little too quickly, his head practically a blur, spraying sweat all over his desk. "Fine. I'm fine. Just a little hot."

She had trouble believing him, but not wanting to draw attention to herself she just nodded and went back to reading the assigned book. Her reading didn't last long as a quiet, thumping noise drew her attention back to the boy. His face was now a brilliant red, and his hands were vibrating against the desk. Her jaw dropped as she saw that the desk itself and everything around him was vibrating just as quickly.

Raising her hand, not looking away from the excruciating expression on the boys face she shouted, "Mr. Wentworth! There's something wrong with him!"

The English teacher ran towards them the second he saw what was wrong. The other students turned to look at their corner, backing away as the desk and the boy began to rise in the air. Some were screaming and heading for the door, others ducked under their desks, Alana found it impossible to move, her right hand covered her mouth, as her other hand reached for her book bag. A voice in her head screamed at her to run.

Before she could put the thought into action the boy and his desk exploded.

Alana found herself lying on her back, her ears ringing. She felt hot. Raising her right hand, she was reminded of the time she had burnt hamburgers on the BBQ. Using her other arm she pushed herself up a little to see her legs several feet away where her desk used to be. "I liked those pants," she whispered in dismay at seeing the beaded blue jeans turning red from blood.

A student looked down at her. He was cute, she wished she could remember his name. He was saying something about not moving. That was silly of him, her legs were at her desk, how was she going to move?

She leaned her head back and thought about how she would have lots to tell her old friends once she got back home. As the screaming in the room got louder she started writing the email in her head. Before she got past the first line she closed her eyes and went to sleep.

Alana wrapped her coat closer around herself, ducking her head to keep the rain out of her face. Every step gave a soft chime as her silvery feet moved to the sound. The sonic metal she had devised was hidden under clothes and soleless shoes making her appear ordinary, and not the cybernetic freak her father accused her of being. Her silver glove that went over the remains of her mangled right hand tapped a tune on her thigh as she considered her next step.

Going home wasn't an option, her father had made sure of that. With the current anti-mutant climate, she wasn't sure what would happen if she turned herself over to the government, it wasn't like she could hide herself unless she wanted to be crippled again, and that would never happen.

What she needed was a place to turn into a lab. All she needed were some basic tools and electricity than she could build the tools she'd need, grow the crystals which let her create her sonic metal. With that, she could start selling her devises online, they'd have to be one shots, testing showed that they stopped working anywhere from a week to five months after leaving her, but she had enough ideas that she could make a couple of thousand dollars from just one sale. Shaking her head, she had to grin at the thought of supplying supervillains with weapons. She wasn't going to lie to herself that people buying one shot sound mufflers, sonic grenades, and area affect stunners would be the good guys, at least not at first.

As she was musing about the future, she was jerked off her feet as a hulking teenager ran past and tried to rip her backpack off of her back.

Her devised arm gave a shriek grabbing a strap with inhuman speed and gripping it with the force of a hydraulic press. The teenager looked at her in surprise, and pulled harder yelling threats right in her face.

Alana literally dug her heels in, keeping her balance, and got her normal hand on the pack.

"Let go, you creep!" she shouted.

He didn't let go, Instead he raised his fist, which looked to be as big as her head, and got ready to beat her down.

Her metal hand reached up and touched his temple. The fingertips vibrated for a moment sending sound waves right through his skull and into his brain. For a moment the teenager stared at her, glassy eyed, than he slowly toppled to the ground, snoring.

"Stupid jerk!" she spit, before taking off at a run.

December, Westport, CT

Agent Melina Hauser entered the small interview room of the Westport PD after driving up from the MCO branch offices in Stamford. A young woman sat at the table, twirling segments of her very, very long hair around her fingers, and removing the ends of strands with what looked like PK claws into a small sachet. The Wesport Chief had called the MCO in accordance with procedure over a "little incident." Agent Hauser was simply told that the file would be in the room with the girl. Sure enough, a manila folder was placed on the table across from the girl, her MID sitting next to it.

Agent Hauser set up her laptop, and looked at the girl.

"Good Afternoon. I'm Agent Hauser from the Stamford MCO. You are?"

The girl dropped the lock of hair and nervously looked at her. "Da…err…I'm Beautician," the girl smiled, her eyes flicking to the MID on the table before she dropped her gaze and fiddled with her fingers. Nervous? Good. Nervous mutants often gave up more information than they should. That would give Milena the edge she might use to bring the girl into their custody, depending on the crimes she had committed. Judging from the girl's reaction, this one would be easy to break.

Melina picked the MID up, and began looking over the information on the card.

Beautician. PK-1. A nobody. Little threat, she wouldn't even need to call for backup.

Techniques: Layering, Undercut, Plaiting, Micro braiding, coloring, manicures…okaaaay.

Was this a fake? Melina typed in the data into the MCO system. This appeared to all be official. The data matched exactly. She looked back to the card.

Weaknesses…firefighters?!?

"What the fu-"

Melina doubled checked the laptop. It matched. She looked to the girl and saw a sheepish blush. In an instant, Melina flipped open the folder. The police report listed a misdemeanor for…"Unlicensed cosmetology. $500 fine."

Milena slid the card back across the table, where the girl caught it, somewhat awkwardly. She pressed her fingers deeply into her temples.

"Just get out."

The girl popped open her purse and slid the MID back into her pocketbook. "Thank you ma'am. I promise it won't happen again. At least until I'm licensed. And then it won't be a problem! Err…I guess I mean…"

"Out!"

"Thank you ma'am!" The girl fled the room, back to the rest of the police station, presumably to wait for her parents to pay the fine.

Milena sighed. What had she done to deserve this?

Earlier that year, Berlin, NH

The girl looked quickly at her MID, and a huge smile blossomed on her face. She crammed the card into her purse, and fled the office as quickly as possible.

The two interns smirked at each other. The girl had been so happy that she was allowed to change her codename, she hadn't even bothered reading the rest of the card.

The two interns each raised an arm, and gently bumped fists.

"Next!" called the one on the left.

Jennifer Kelly frowned. "So you're telling me I'm married to this putz?" Kayda nodded while Wyatt rolled his eyes. "Well, what of it? I don't remember that life, and I don't want to. It's gone. Dead. Kaput. I'm sorry for your loss, but I'm not going to flush the life I do have down the drain for the sake of a memory." She wrapped an arm around Sarah's waist. "I'm happy with what I have. Leave us alone."

Kayda gasped and tightened her grip on Deb's hand. "But, but cuwe!"

"What the fuck is a cu- forgetaboutit. Don't even want to know."

"Too bad," growled Wyatt as he reached out and flicked her in the forehead.

"What was that supposed... to..." She trailed off as the healing magic worked and memories started unfogging. "God damn it." She could remember everything now. That stupid glow Trevor had when everything first started going wrong. The way old man Buffet began to vomit at her birthday party a year later. The day six months after that when it all finally caught up with her and she first noticed her boobs coming in, that she was becoming herself. The weeks with Hammond. The escape and ensuing slaughter. The four miserable and terrifying years at Whateley. Her plot to get revenge against Trevor by slowly ruining the lives of his friends, one by one. The stolen ID and subsequent impersonation. The lab. The explosion.

"Lanie?" asked Tansy tentatively.

"No." Her flesh seemed to ripple, and then an entirely different woman was standing there, orange irises glaring daggers at Wyatt from behind frizzy brown hair. "Denise. Denise Goodkind."

Tansy gasped. "Falsarium?"

"Jenny..." said Sarah worriedly.

"You know," muttered Denise to the unwelcome visitors as she gave Sarah one last squeeze, "I was happy here. I really was. For the first time in almost a decade, I was happy."

"Baby, it's not too-"

"But I don't get to be happy, do I?!" Denise was shaking now. Tansy tried to soothe her roiling emotions, but her power just slid off Falsarium's mental shields. She reached out to try physical contact, but the other woman leaped back out of reach. "Oh no you don't, bitch! I was going to save you for after Trevor, but after what you've taken from me? You burn here and now!"

She raised her arms and flames raged forth to splash harmlessly off Kayda's shield. Wyatt growled and began wading through the blaze. Then it vanished, revealing Sarah pinning Denise's arms to her side in a bear hug as her own sleeves smoldered. "I love you, Jennifer Kelly."

"My name is Denise. Get out of my way, Sarah."

"I don't care. I love you."

"No you don't! You don't know me! I've-"

"You have baggage, I get it. But baby, I've seen you without it weighing you down, and you're beautiful. My beautiful Irish Rose."

"I'm not Irish. I'm a shifter."

"And I'm not Nubian, ethnically speaking. None of this matters. I. Love. You."

"This... this isn't even me! I mean, it is now, but I used to be... I used to be a guy."

"I don't ca- you what?" Sarah started to pull away for a moment, then shook her head and tightened her hug. "Whatever. Don't care."

"I murdered my parents, Sarah."

"I'm sure you had good reason."

"Well, yeah, but you deserve better than-"

Sarah tightened her grip further until Denise couldn't do anything but wheeze. "Shut up. You remember being Denise, and I guess that time sucked, but Denise has been dead to the world for three years now and the world didn't stop turning. She can stay dead. Leave her baggage behind. Be Jennifer Kelly. Be my Irish Rose. Be the real you, without all the shit life put the old you through. Be my love."

Denise wheezed some sort of quiet reply that made Sarah smile. A few moments later their passionate kiss was interrupted by a gruff throat clearing. They both looked up to see Wyatt Cody frowning at them in his heavily singed flannel. "Forgetting something, Falsarium?"

"I'm not Elaine, Kodiak. Get out of my apartment."

"No, but you had her ID and her face! Explain yourself!"

"What's to explain? I wanted to tear Trevor apart, one friend at a time, piece by pathetic piece. Step one was to destroy Night Death's antidote as Wicked, but Walcunt here showed up and got it out ahead of the explosion. Or so I thought." She shrugged. "If that was your wife in disguise, then she's dead."

"So, you caused that explosion," whispered Wyatt. "You killed her..."

"Oh shit."

"NO!" screamed Tansy as she threw herself in front of Denise. Wyatt's eyes widened, but his claws connected with her torso before he could abort the swing. As her guts spilled out, she looked down in horror. "The baby," she gasped with her dying breath.

"What baby? What are... you... shit. Shit!" He spun around to rage at the room in general. "Okay, great, now that I've just killed my presumed dead lover who was pretending to be my actually dead wife along with an unborn child I didn't know about, in the apartment of the amnesiac villain who killed my wife and then semi-accidentally impersonated her for just long enough to get my hopes up... now that all of that's happened, are we quite the fuck done with the fucking ass pull reveals for today?"

"Language, Wyatt!" snapped a high pitched voice from the hole in Tansy's eviscerated corpse. As the other five watched in confused horror, a tiny blond humanoid form crawled out and wiped its face on Tansy's blouse. "Alright, somebody fill me in on what's been going on. Last I remember, Ty interrupted our inspection of the tunnels to go fight an extra-dimensional invasion of his homeworld. We fought, we lost, our survivors were captured, and then... Where are we?"

"Liz?" called another high pitched voice from within Tansy. "Did you make it out?"

"Yes, Amanda! Are the others with you? Tell them to hurry! I can see a calendar and it's already November!"

Kayda gasped. "Mrs. Carson? Is that you? Why are you chibi?"

Carson spun on her heel and paled. "Kayda. I should have known you'd be involved in this insanity." She straightened to her full five inches and raised a stern finger at her former pupil. "What have I told you about magic rituals!"

"But... but I didn't..."

"Oh? You didn't perform a deep identity replacement ritual on the late Ms. Walcutt here while she was pregnant with her first son who was conceived in deceit born of self sacrificial kindness?"

"What does that have to do with-"

"Will you never get it through your skull that actions have unforeseen consequences? Let me guess, Tansy interposed herself between Wyatt and... is that Miss Goodkind? Right, of course. So I'm guessing Denise was finally having a redemption moment, correct? This was the cost of your spell, Kayda. In helping Tansy to give up her own life for the good of another, you caused her to be drawn here where she could do that more literally. This combined with the death of the aforementioned son of specific circumstances at the hands of his own father completed a blood ritual opening a passage through her for a group of selfless individuals to return home."

"But why are you chibi?"

"I don't want to talk about it. Wyatt! Pull yourself together and call Whateley. I need to speak to Sam. Deborah! Stop hiding behind Kayda and Wyatt and bring us some handkerchiefs and a bowl of water." She turned to face Denise and Sarah. "I assume that this is your residence? Excellent. We will require large amounts of food, pronto. Preferably in a form that's mushy. Oatmeal, cream of wheat, grits, Soylent, mashed potatoes, anything of that nature. Don't worry, we'll clean this mess for you. Kayda! You remember the spells for getting blood out of textiles? Heal those burns on our host's arms and then get to it." She turned back to Tansy's body. "Amanda! What is the holdup? The portal won't stay open much longer!"

Another small blond head wormed its way free of Tansy's guts. "You do not want to know, Liz. It has been dealt with. They're all right behind me now." As soon as she finished pulling herself free, a poodle-sized dragon burst out and began shaking his wings off, flinging blood everywhere. Half a dozen others followed, most wearing grim, haunted expressions.

As the others used the water and handkerchiefs to wash themselves, Hartford moved to Tansy's head and patted it as her slow tears streaked through the blood of her protege coating her face. "Liz can say what she wants," she whispered, "but this was ultimately my doing. I groomed you for this, you and Kayda both. I hoped we'd never have to use the fallback you provided, but I had to be prepared for every possibility. I'm sorry that it required you to die, but the rest of us together will be able to do far more good for humanity than you would have on your own. The math is clear, but I don't have to like it. I will remember your sacrifice. You did good, Tansy. You did good."

"Eldritch did WHAT?!" screamed Carson into the phone.

Amelia Hartford looked at the student sitting before her and sighed. These sorts of incidents always seemed to happen when Liz was away. She shook her head and addressed the crying teen.

“What were you thinking? Taking on 6 bullies at a time, not to mention that four of them are on the ultra-violent list! It’s a miracle you didn’t get yourself killed!”, bellowed Hartford.

Lucy Jensen mumbled something amidst all the sobs. What it was, Hartford didn’t make out, but it caused the girl to escalate her sobbing into a full-on crying fit. Amelia decided to change tactics. Stepping out from behind Carson’s desk, she came around to the girl and put her arms around her.

“If you tell anyone about me giving you a hug, I’ll deny it. But what were you thinking?”

Lucy sniffled and took a tissue from her handbag. After she dried her eyes, she started to explain. “ I really c… couldn’t help it.”, she said in her shy voice. “A…after my brother and I re-integrate, He falls asleep, and I’m usually… v…very drained. It was a nice day, and I decided to take a rest under a t…tree. That’s when they came up and surrounded me. I t..tried to get away and to call security..b..but they took my phone and crushed it. Pl…pl..p… please don’t send me away, I’m sorry. I d…didn’t mean it. “

Amelia wasn’t used to this touchy-feely stuff, but she did her best to comfort the girl. “I’m not going to expel you. Detention certainly, but the students you fought are well-known around campus as bullies and trouble makers. My only concern is that you might end up on the Ultra-violent list for this, yourself.”

“I… I .. really didn’t m..mean to hurt anyone, I was just trying to get a..away.” Lucy, said in a defensive tone.

“Be that at it may, you did stab Counterpoint repeatedly with, I might add,… your own femur!”

“I’m sorry, but if… that wolf guy hadn’t torn off my…leg I…I wouldn’t have. And I …I have grown my leg back, see?”

Amelia looked at the pale white skin of the girl’s leg, a noticeable tan line evident at the point in which it had been severed.

“I will be talking to Bloodwolf, once he regains consciousness. Killstench and Maggot are too scared of you to say anything, except for some babbling about how you flogged Buster with your own entrails…”

Lucy looked at the ground. “I…I did sort of do that. But.. he was trying to… hit m..me.”

Amelia shook her head. “Okay, okay. I’m going to consider this matter settled. One week’s detention, to be served helping the groundskeeping staff.”

Lucy looked up, wiped the last of her tears away, and hugged Hartford, who hugged the sad girl back.

“Again, I will deny any and all hugs.”, stated Hartford. “Oh, one last thing before you go, where are Strongarm and Legbreaker? Campus security hasn’t been able to locate either one to question.”

“I… I didn’t do anything… well, I did chase them some… while… holding some of my discarded ribs… You might check w…with Dr. Bellows. I… I think they might have gone to…to see him.”, Lucy turned and looked at Hartford through the long hair that was falling down over her face, smiling wickedly. “They seemed to have been a might bit upset.”

Amelia Hartford ushered the girl out of the office, and grabbed the wastepaper basket. After emptying her stomach, she recalled the look on the girl’s face. Amelia would be getting no sleep that night.

Morning, Ground Floor, Crystal Hall

Mads 'Metro' Jensen was rather pleased with his lot in life as he carried his tray - with real food! - over to an open spot at Bloodwolf's table. He'd have preferred to hang with the other Thornies, but Jimmy T woke up supersized and, well, it's just not safe to get between him and food at such times.

Hell. Maggot and Necro both looked like they'd seen their own ghosts.

"Morning gents! Mind if I join you?" Everyone looked to Bloodwolf, clearly hoping for a "no".

"Suit yourself, " the werewolf avatar replied, daring the others to embarrass him. "Running late this morning."

"I ended up working graveyard."

"So you heard about yesterday."

"Ayup. I have to ask though..."

"There's a question that Security missed? Color me surprised." Bitter? He hardly even knew her.

"Pfft. Only the obvious one. What on earth and all of God's own hells possessed anyone to go along with one of Buster's ideas?"

"Sounded like fun at the time."

"Should've had yourselves checked for mental coercion. Because, Buster. And Counterpoint. Fun?"

"We get it. Bad idea."

About this time, Metro decided that going back for the silverware he'd forgotten to obtain would let his prized breakfast lose its freshness. That would not do! The guys stared as a pair of razor-sharp knives appeared from practically nowhere. Smiling, the boy went to work on his meal - one which had the bad manners to twitch a couple of times before finally dying.

After a few slices he looked up into three sets of wide eyes. "What? It's a common name. They're not even related to me!" "Hah!" the boy exulted as he pinned the fish's tail down to the table before it could flop again.

A few more bites of tasty fresh fish were enjoyed before he looked up to see Jimmy waving him over to join him now that both tables were empty.

Caitlin Bardue walked into the teacher's dining room and grabbed a bagel and some coffee. Seeing Nikki Reilly sitting alone at a table, she walked over and sat down.

"Hey Nikki, I've been having some problems with one of your students, he keeps swearing blood oaths against random students on the range. I'm afraid that it might not end well.", The gruff range warden stated.

Nikki sighed. "Kids will do stupid stuff like that. Send them to me, and I'll talk to them. We don't need someone becoming the next Hekate, or worse, the next me, when I was that age."

Caitlin frowned and nodded. "Say, whatever happened to Hekate anyhow? I know she fooled your curse, but I never heard what happened after."

Nikki paused and put down her fork. "Well, I couldn't just kill her, there would have been karmic repercussions. Sealing her magic would have been a solution, but there are ways around that. I finally thought of a solution. You know the saying about 'keep your friends close, and your enemies closer'... ? I thought of an idea, and since Fubar's old tank wasn't in use anymore..."

Caitlin interrupted. "WHAT DID YOU DO?..."

Nikki looked at the instructor with a wounded expression. "No, nothing bad... besides, I think she likes being a goldfish."

"What it would mean to be tagged as UV?" Wyatt perceptively finished his question. When the boy nodded, Wyatt explained what his freshman year had been like with the UV armband.

---

"So, after nearly killing a junior who'd started a fight with you, and then just kept provoking you, they made you wear an ultra-violent band for the rest of the year?" Danny asked the hulking senior.

"That's correct. For the rest of the year, no one wanted to fight me. Not sparring in BMA, not even in a simulator, not a single person anywhere on campus wanted to. It was the loneliest time I've spent here, before or since."

"But I don't want to fight anybody! I just want the bullies to leave me alone!"

"Can't help you there, sport. I've never been bullied. I may have beaten up a number of kids like you for the Alphas, especially once I became one of Freya's enforcers, so the best I can tell you is not to upset the more important folks on campus. Mrs. Carson can send you down to muck out sewers for a week or two, but upset the wrong upperclassman and you'll be eating through a straw until they get you patched up."

"Could you tell me again, then, what else goes with a UV band?"

Wyatt thought for a moment - there wasn't much to it, really, "There's the daily check-ins, and you have to wear the band so it's visible at all times... "

"Babs told me that Jimmy T has one modified so he can attach it to a book bag or purse when he can't wear clothes." Lanie clarified.

"Of course, Security has a tote-board set up listing the various UVs and their relative threat rating. Hm. You'll also tend to be punished more severely than other students for the same impromptu scuffles, but you can still book Arena 77 for a refereed fight. You don't see either one happening much because the punishment for picking a fight with an ultra-violent is a bit more severe too." And Kodiak would know, right?

"Aside from that, it's also much more of a hassle to go off-campus if you're on the longer list of kids not allowed to leave without a counter-signed pass from Admin. Good luck with that if Mrs. Hartford is one of the ones you've pissed off. Even some of the obvious GSD cases in Whitman and Twain get to go into town every month or two..."

"Holidays too, assuming they have a place to go. Since you're a freshman, don't worry about Thanksgiving. Unless you already have a MID, you're going nowhere."

All in all, Danny left the discussion more than a little traumatized.


It turns out that being on the lookout for the school-sanctioned bullies also helps one notice things about the people around one. For example, two of Danny's roommate's friends wore UV-style bands. When he asked Hank about Jade and Billie, Hank reassured him that while Billie wouldn't hurt a fly - maybe annihilate the Eastern Seaboard under certain conditions, but not deliberately hurt anyone - it probably wasn't safe to personally antagonize her best friend and roommate. At Phase's estimate, and discounting the mythos-corrupted weres fought by the Wild Bunch, Generator had at best the fourth or fifth highest off-campus body count, behind Tennyo, Fey, Metro, and Bladedancer. On the bright side, Metro was the only one not legally deputized in Boston.

It would be some time before Danny felt comfortable sleeping alone in Poe Cottage.

Outside Fort Wayne, Indiana, August 7th, 2007

Stacy Yates walked into the living room after a long hot bath and saw her son eating a waffle cone ice cream treat, getting peanuts all over the carpet. At least it wasn't the chocolate slivers on the microfiber couch, she rationalized.

Considering that he had just used four months' worth of allowance on a PC Interface card for the oscilloscope he got for Christmas…Stacy checked her purse first, and quickly counted the bills. He's gotten smarter, she thought to herself. Stacy turned back to the bedrooms of their modest ranch and grabbed five objects off Jordan's desk.

She returned to the kitchen with her prize, muttered a few words and unlocked the liquor cabinet. She pulled out a 2005 and put the five objects into a plastic sandwich bag before securing the liquor cabinet again. She sighed. It was too soon to send him, and she still had this under control. Next year, maybe. Gavin was working ten hours of OT a week already so they could start saving, but…they'd work something out. Stacy opened the bottle, poured a half glass, and placed the bottle in the fridge before heading to the living room.

Jordan was watching a rerun of Future Weapons, again. Stacy thought she had blocked the channel, but Gavin must have unlocked it after getting annoyed at always putting the code in so he and Jordan could watch Man vs. Wild. Stacy didn't blame him, Jordan would just figure it out on his own soon. Which is exactly the sort of reason why she was right here, right now.

"Jordan Dietrich Yates!" she boomed, causing her son to spin away from the television. "Where, exactly, did you get that ice cream?" She was rewarded with his deer in the headlights look. Stacy suppressed a smirk. Her son stammered a response, and not the one she hoped to hear.

"I stole money from your purse?"

"Try again, little man, I already counted it."

"Uh…Brendan paid for it!"

"Your friend Brendan is at camp for another week, unless you forgot?"

"Well…"

"I'm gonna guess that your Rectified Phase Inducer generators found their way onto the side of the ice cream truck that I heard from the bathroom about ten minutes ago." Her son looked at her in shock. She'd correctly identified the name of his latest invention. Pfft, like she didn't have access to the Wifi logs. Salted, SHA-2 encrypted, 34 character password protected. Her son glanced down the hall toward his bedroom. "Don't bother, little buster," she said, draining the rest of her glass. "The remote is in the cabinet with the four little cubes."

"Mom…I…"

"Let's try this," Stacy's Cheshire smile grew steadily on her face. The one she saved just for her son, and husband after Lodge nights when he should have gotten a ride from one of his coworkers. She folded her arms over her chest, the stem of the glass gripped between her index and middle fingers. "You clean your room, and wash the dishes for a week."

"But maaaaawwwwwwwm…"

"You certainly will if you want them back. Unless you can figure out how to light your well, which you can't, or figure out how to get enough essence and the cantrip and the coda to unlock the cabinet, which you won't, or get your sister to help you, which she's can't. Yet."

"Aww….man!" her son whined, and stomped over to his room, the pilfered ice cream forgotten on its wrapper on the coffee table.

"And you're grounded for a month!" she craned her neck and called after him.

"Geez!" she heard grumbled from his room, then hearing a pile of parts clatter all over the floor. That should keep him out of trouble for a few weeks.

Stacy went back to the fridge, poured herself a full glass of Mommy Juice, and sat down on the couch with a crime novel.

God, she hoped Cora wouldn't be this difficult in a year or so.

Morning, Crystal Hall Cafeteria, Whateley Academy

Lucy Marie Jensen, also known as Host, found herself sitting alone again at one of the ground-floor tables. She'd been told that this was the usual area for the Thornies and GSD kids to sit, so there should be more people around, but not many of them were raised on a working farm and used to getting up at the crack of dawn for their morning chores. She wouldn't be used to the hour yet, but having to regenerate back from the dead every day had the odd side-effect of resetting her biological clock to her new times zone.

The young mutant quietly sat then, with her morning coffee and breakfast, waiting for her body and her brother's to wake up. The doctors had explained that the caffeine would no longer physically work for her, but keeping up her morning routines as best as she could helped her feel just a little bit more "normal". The early September morning was dawning clear. It would be a good day for most outdoor activities, so of course it had to be a school day. I wonder how Dad is doing? I could always send an email, I guess.

So the girl was completely lost in thought, which left her open for just about any schoolyard pranks or bullying. Sure enough, she heard a *thunk* on the table across from her as someone dropped a packet of something on the table, followed by a barely-controlled coffee cup descent. Great. Either this is someone who didn't get the memo to avoid me. Or it's some jerk here to make my life miserable.

No worries, Sis. I'll protect you.

Good to see the tapeworm was awake. If things got rough, they could cause a nice bloody scene and escape while the jerk was wiping blood off his face. And then she'd have to replace another blouse.

The intruder looked... shorter even than Lucy was. Not by much, but going by her guess that he was another freshman, the boy was probably well-aware and insecure about the height difference. Maybe a weight difference too, judging by the pale, almost lilac skin of his face - skin that didn't have enough baby fat remaining to hide his underlying features. Compared to Jeremy Lundegren back home - if Jeremy had some nordic ancestry, this guy must've been straight off the boat. Maybe even just off the boat this morning, as tired as the kid looked.

"Good morning. And you would be?"

"Oh! Right. We haven't formally met, have we?" There was a pause as the boy visibly chased thoughts moving faster than the rest of him could track. He finally reached across the table for a hand shake, "Mads Jensen. Pahss-, er, um, I guess I'd better get used to 'Metro' before someone comes up with a worse name.

"Lucy Jensen." She gripped his hand. He had a surprisingly firm handshake. Most early teens either gave the 'dead fish' handshake, or tried to impress people with their strength by clamping down hard. Her father'd warned her that neither type of guy who did that was entirely trustworthy. "My MID says 'Host'. My brother's reads 'Tapeworm', so yes, you could end up with worse."

You need to work on those coping skills, Sis.

The boy mused with a grin, "Jensen... Where have I heard that name before?"

An esper herself, Lucy could guess by his expression that he'd gotten an answer to that question, and it was probably rude enough to suit.

"Hej! You're the bodice-ripper up on the freshman floor, yeah?"

"I do not wear a bodice. Nor do I rip them!" The nerve of this guy! Now she remembered where she'd seen him. Going by the UV band, and the places around Hawthorne she'd briefly seen him, he was probably one of the campus bullies working off his latest detention.

Want me to bite him a few dozen times? These teeth aren't just for show!

No. Not yet. Maybe he'll take a hint and leave.

'Metro' followed Lucy's line of sight to his white UV band. "Oh, this? I think I set a new school record for getting on the ultraviolet list."

*sigh*

"However could that have happened?"

"For one thing, it was ready for me even before they revived me from the medical coma."

"Why were you in a coma?"

"'Cause I got stabbed. 'Tswhy I'm taking BMA. Um, you don't mind of I eat this, here?" He motioned to the packet he'd brought with him.

"Oh no, go ahead." Somewhere else, preferably.

"Thanks. I'm never quite sure whether it's better warm or cold, what with the blubber and all."

Ew.

"Just out of curiosity, why were you stabbed?" With some of the city kids Lucy'd read about, it could be anything from drugs to prostitution. Even the guys,

"Not entirely sure. Some sort of ritual sacrifice? Anyway, I objected, he insisted, I objected some more, and now here we all are!"

Wow, Sis. That's somehow even worse than what you'd been thinking.

"Your brother's looking talkative this morning."

"What?"

"You've got two auras, and one of them's male."

"Oh."

"So how do you like Inmate Central?"

"?"

"'Host' is listed among the regular freshmen rooms."

"So, you have been working your detention off at Hawthorne!"

"Nope. That's Kane Hall. Security. I'm just a floor or two below you, with some of the other special environment folks." He squeezed out more of whatever-it-was to eat. Looking more closely at the labels, she realized that the set of 'special meals' could intersect 'poison' and possibly hazmat.

Minnesota was looking and feeling light-years away, right about then.

"What can I say? Mrs. Cantrel's nice enough, and most of the other kids. But when your brother has a habit of bursting out through your chest, it gets kind of lonely. And expensive too, what with blouses and shirts taking the collateral damage, and the blood stains."

"Does he have to come out that way?"

"Yes. Really, he does. He needs an hour a day outside or we both suffer for it."

"Hunh. Beats sleeping in a bathtub I guess."

"At least that way your shirts probably stay clean."

"Nah. If I'm too excited or upset, my skin dumps fatty acids and oils all over. Good when a policeman, for example, tries to grab me, not so good for keeping clean. Throw in pheromones, everyday dirt, etc., and I end up showering at least two, three times a day. You did notice no one is in any hurry to sit here?"

"I... thought it was just me."

"Doubt it. Anyway, why not let your bror out while you're in the shower? Saves wear and tear on the clothes. There's a couple of spells that could also help with cleanup, but I don't know jack about enchanting stuff for other people. Not exactly my style."

That could work, you know.

"I'll think about it."

Finishing up whatever unholy concoction he'd been consuming, Mads stood up. "Sorry to dine and dash, but I've got to brush my teeth after eating this stuff. Good meeting you, and, Oh! If you have the cash, it's easy to get blood and other bodily fluids out of some ballistic fabrics."

"How would you know?"

The boy grinned a truly wicked grin, fangs and all, and tapped the UV band on his arm. "Experience."

I'll be taking a raincheck on it for now, but I still think one of us should chew his kneecaps off. Just saying.

My daughter really likes Slender Man (she has seen his picture on Roblox) and was telling me how she wants a Slender Man plushy yesterday during a long car ride. This is the story I developed from that.

**

Melody skipped along the path of her new school, feeling really cute in her pink polka dot dress and matching bow, while gazing in wonder at all the cool students who were flying, jumping and running around. The only thing that spoiled her mood was that she was the youngest student at the school, being just six years old.

She saw a big dog like boy walking down the path, his head looked just like her Daddy's dog back home. Smiling wide, she waved at him, "Hi, you look cool!" she said.

The dog boy leaned down, his mouth hanging open as if grinning. "You think I'm cool?"

"Yeah, I have a nice doggy at home who looks like you. He's my best friend. His name is Freddy. He sleeps with me every night and sometimes he kicks me out of bed."

"Oh really," the boy said sweetly. "Does he growl like this?" He got right in her face and growled just like her dog once did when a bear wandered into her backyard.

"Yeah, he does!" she said, giggling.

The boy looked confused for a moment, growling more loudly he placed a huge hand around her head and lifted her up. "Does Freddy ever eat you up?"

"You're hurting me!" Melody shouted, squirming to get out of his grasp as his nails dug into her skin. "Put me down or my friend is going to get you!"

"Yeah, I'm sure your imaginary friend is terrifying."

"Slendy! Help me!" she screamed.

Rotti felt a cold shadow cover him. A black tentacle caressed his cheek. Looking over his shoulder, he saw a pale faceless man who writhed unnaturally in the light breeze staring down at him. A long boneless arm rose up until two sharp fingers pointed at his eyes. Tentacles ran across his body, just brushing his fur, they felt unclean, leaving him covered in filth that sunk beneath his skin.

He tried to speak, but only a whimper escaped.

Very carefully and slowly he put the girl on the ground.

The tentacles moved away from him, winding around the tiny girl protectively.

"You made my friend very unhappy. You should run away now," the girl said, walking over to the abomination and hugging his leg.

Rotti didn't need to be told twice, he bolted for the trees.

Melody looked up at her friend. "Thank you Slendy, you're the best."

An enormous hand stretched out, taking hold of her own tiny hand. Together they walked along the paths of Whateley, the girl pointing out all the cool things, while the creature beside her silently watched for any sign of danger to his charge.

Lucy walked around the quad, feeling happy. The pest had chosen during her shower to appear, sparing her clothing any damage. An encounter with Ribbon had resulted in a cute knee length denim skirt and matching long-sleeve shirt for the day. She walked around, enjoying the crisp autumn air. She paused and sad down on a bench and watched the other students.

Razorback was chasing Metro around, which caused Lucy to smile.

Jericho came running from the direction of Crystal Hall, yelling “Give back the teddy bear!”

Not knowing what was going on, and positive she didn’t want to know, Lucy just got up and walked in the opposite direction. She saw the girls of Wondercute walking towards her. The one with the dragon on her shoulder looked up and pointed at her. Immediately, the entire group turned in unison and hurried off in the opposite direction. Lucy grinned, then shook her head.


She was gaining quite the reputation, and it was all the slug’s fault. He was napping, of course, and she could hear him snoring in her head. He was dreaming, and images came unwanted to her mind, via their telepathic link. Images of him as he thought he would look like, if he had been normal looking. He was muscular and she admitted, he saw himself as quite a hot guy. He was back on the farm. He strode into the barn, and waiting for him on a blanket was Fey.

Screaming in her head, Lucy wished that ‘mental bleach’ was, in fact, a thing. That little pervert hitchhiker. He didn’t even have genitals, but he did have a libido, to her regret.

She looked around, and Lucy saw another girl sitting under a tree, the tree that the UVs and bullies had harassed her the week before.
She walked over and looked down at the slumped over girl. She was short, probably only 4’8” at most, she was a little on the chubby side. She was bigger than Lucy in the bust, but not outrageously big, maybe a high B or low C cup. Her hair was a mottled tan-brown, with bands of lighter and darker shades. She had dark eyes, surrounded with black markings, her nails were claw-like. The most remarkable feature that Lucy could see though was the long furry banded tail that peeked out from under her red tartan dress.

“May I sit?”, Lucy asked the crying girl. After the girl nodded, Lucy tucked her skirt under her, and sat down beside her.

“Lucy Jensen, Host” She said, introducing herself.

The Sad girl looked up. “Aggie Smith, Tanuki” the crying girl said in response.

Lucy bit her lip and frowned. “Are you okay? I noticed you sitting here and crying. I often come here myself. Especially when I’m having problems.”

Aggie looked at her, the girl was certainly pretty. She had cool colored hair and eyes, she was a little flat-chested, but she was certainly gifted with Exemplar beauty.

“What sort of problems could you have, you are as pretty as you are? I got short and fat thanks to my stupid powers. ‘Spirit of the Tanuki’… None of it is worth it, not even the magic.”

Lucy nodded in sympathy. “You don’t look bad, you are very cute. I’ve seen others with worse GSD. Do you know who Razorback is?”

Aggie nodded before Lucy continued. “I have my own issues with my powers. I am an exemplar, but I’m also in a situation where my symbiotic brother lives inside me. He spends 23 hours a day inside me, where I can feel him squirming around. We have a telepathic link, so I can hear his thoughts, especially while the little pervert dreams… Then there is the other hour. He has to emerge once a day and spend an hour outside of me. Which he does in agonizing chest-bursting fashion. It would kill me if I weren’t a Regen 7. And by the time I’m recovered, He has to re-enter, by crawling down my throat and tearing out through my esophagus.”

Aggie turned pale, but then bit her lower lip. “What do you know about Tanuki?”, She asked.

Lucy thought for a second. “Aren’t those a type of raccoon dog from Japanese folklore? Supposedly they use magic to play tricks, I know I’ve seen pictures of statues and drawings. They are always standing up and showing off their huge testi…. oh… oh! You poor thing… “

Lucy wrapped her arms around Aggie, comforting the girl, who was now crying even harder. She was determined that she would be Aggie’s friend now, and help her in any way she could.

Rorsmand looked up to see Metro walking back to the table, FAR too pleased with himself.

"Mads, where's the teddy bear?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about." liar

"Fine. Could you at least tell me who Razorback is chasing?"

"Looked like Aegis to me. Originally. Maybe not at the moment. Things happen, you know."

"Are you saying that Aegis, Mr. All-American Hero, stole someone's teddy bear?"

"No?"

"What did he think he was grabbing?"

"Something maybe less 'All-American' that Outcasts shouldn't give dear, sweet, innocent Miranda Mahren?"



*sigh*

"Can you estimate when Aegis will start looking more like Aegis and less like you?"

"About the same time that the sex toy he's carrying is within 20 yards of anyone attached to Security who isn't Razorback."

"And what would the sex toy happen to look like?" This is like trying to get a coherent story from a three year old!

"A bone... of sorts. English is interesting that way.

A few minutes later, the entire cafeteria heard a loud, feminine, shriek of outrage:

"METRO, YOU ARE ONE DEAD SUNOVA -- [ dropped carrier ] --

Rorsmand stopped eating for a moment, realizing he hadn't been thorough enough.

"Miranda. What is she carrying?"

"Probably a teddy bear."

"And what does the teddy bear look like?"

"That depends on who you are."

"So why is Eldritch coming here to kill you?"

"I'd guess that's because she's old enough to see the teddy bear as... an implement of joy, so to speak."

"?"

"And Miranda may have just asked her dear older sister why I handed it to her?"

Brixton, MCO office
13 December, 1995

"How goes the riot?" Dalton asked, finally finished dealing with the young mutant who needed one of the new MID's. It was a useful tool no doubt, but trying to get the damn machines working, testing every mutant in the district, and dealing with all the questions and demands was wearing the MCO office thin.

Catherine muted the tele, "Looks like they're going to have some cleaning up to do tomorrow. And the police are being called in from all over the city to deal with trouble."

Rubbing his temples Dalton took a deep breath and slowly let it out. "Let's hope that's the worst of our trouble, I don't want to have to call in AEGIS if we're called out. They're still acting like bloody wankers over the MIDs'.

Whatever Catherine had been about to say was cut off by the sound of birds singing just outside the windows. Every window.

"What in the world?"

As Dalton got up to see what was going on, metal birds burst through the glass, instinct sent him flying to the ground covering his head as he rolled under his desk. There was nothing he could do as shrieks of pain filled the air, his side arm was in lock up, and his pistol, even with the anti-brick munitions, would be as effective as spitting in the ocean against the hundreds of birds filling the air.

The shrieking and chirping stopped, the silence broken only by an occasional panicked scream that was quickly cut off and the dripping as some liquid hit the tiled floor.

Getting to his feet, Dalton only had one thought, run. If he could climb out the window and get across the street, he could hide in a building. He could call for help. He could find some tiny bit of sanity in an insane situation.

He whimpered when he saw a blue knight, steam erupting from its joints, tear its way through the brick wall. The large metal sword dripped with blood, two metallic birds rested on its shoulders.

"What is your name?" the knight demanded.

"Dalton," he whispered. He had read the reports about the knight. Attacking during disasters, riots, when everyone would be busy. The knight didn't leave anyone alive. His senses seemed to become supercharged, he could smell the blood dripping from Catherine's throat, feel every bit of debris under him, see the panicked crowd across the street hiding from the metal birds that flew along the street.

"Dalton, you will give your fellow murderers a message from me. For every child killed, I will avenge them ten fold. However, if you murderers disband, if you beg forgiveness and publicly admit your crimes, the killing can stop within the hour." The knight leaned so close, Dalton could feel the heat rising from the metal helm. "Do you understand?" the knight demanded.

He couldn't speak. He tried, but his throat was closed. Instead he nodded.

That satisfied the knight. There was a sharp whistle and the birds which had killed everyone else in the building flew outside. The blood covering their razor wings fell on Dalton like rain.

While he covered his face, trying to regain some control of his body, Dalton heard a car screech to a halt. There was a shout about the police. Then there were screams.

Dalton crawled under his desk again, praying to god that it would end.

Office of the Headmistress, Schuster Hall, Whateley Academy

"I'm sorry. Whoever it may have been that told you about Whateley Academy should have also told you that our admissions policy is quite exclusive. Your daughter's grades..."

Ava tried to remain hopeful, "Mrs. Carson, if it's only a matter of grades I assure you that Abelyn's grade can and will improve here!"

"That may be so, but while an excellent academic record would help her qualify and maintain a scholarship, there are none that I am aware of that she would qualify for. To be blunt, our tuition fees are very expensive, much more than an artisan blacksmith and a potter could expect to afford."

Paul tried another approach, "We've sold everything we had, except for what's been coming to Abelyn. Some books, her tools, some personal belongings. We..." The broad-shouldered man's cell phone rang. Discourteous as it must be, he saw the number and said, "Mrs. Carson, I beg your pardon, but I must needs take this call."

"By all means," the school headmistress granted. As hard as this interview was- on her as well as the distressed parents- she could afford to be graceful.

"What happened? Is she... oh. Oh, god."

"Paul?"

He turned to answer his wife, "M-Miss Lucy was just found. They burned her out." The person on the other end of the line had had more to say, "What's that? You already did? No. It's all right, we'll make arrangements before heading home. Good bye, Jimmie."

"Paul?"

"Ava, Jimmie went ahead and shipped Abelyn's belongings up here. Mrs. Carson, I realize I shouldn't ask this of you and your school, but could Abelyn stay until the end of the week? We need to tend to Miss Lucy's burial and Abelyn, well, they'll be wanting her signature and all... "

Mrs. Carson's compassion warred with her conscience. The tipping point, meager as it was, was that the couple had to have known something about the school for them to have come here. There'd be no mistaking the return addresses on whatever was coming: for some that would be tantamount to waving a red flag. She took a chance.

"One week, and that's all. We're not a hotel. I keep getting the impression that you don't understand that even if your daughter were to manifest as a mutant, there no reason to believe that she would be a danger to herself or others."

"We do understand that. These days, it don't take much to be branded a mutant, or worse, in some folks' eyes. They're the dangerous ones to my eyes, if you were to ask me."

"Paul and I, we cannot thank you enough for doing this for us, but thank you."


After the poor couple left, Liz Carson couldn't shake the feeling that she would never see the two again. She updated her clipping services to include mentions of the family or other odd news that could be related to them, then went back to work. For the first night at least, Abelyn Elliott could stay in the guest quarters, but sooner or later she'd be forced to face what the school was about, simply as a matter of eating meals here for a few days.

The first news that found its way to her inbox was a death notice regarding Lucretia "Lucy" Armstrong's tragic death in an accidental fire. But houses and barns don't burn just themselves down to the ground like the photos showed in the summer, without an accelerant.

The second news item was more local. That evening, Abelyn Elliott had been taken to Doyle Medical Clinic suffering from a dangerously high fever.

The third waited until morning: a news article about a Jimmie Filiatreau, Army veteran, being killed by burglars breaking into his house.

Elizabeth Carson had been a working hero for too long not to hope for miracles. She'd also been at her current job too long not to prepare for giving a suddenly-homeless child the worst news for a child to hear at any age. Her hands felt a little numb, then, when an urgent call was forwarded from Louisville to her office. The money left in the estate wasn't much, but what price sanctuary?

Early Fall, 2017

The Workshop, Metals and Fabrication Labs


"Bro! Did you hear? This year's steampunk kid brought his shop along with him! Let me tell you, from what I've seen of the main package it's got all the right curves in all the right places. I wish I had something like that to unwrap."

"Just because he's got a good anvil that doesn't mean his hammer's any good."

Wasn't that a sad but true fact of Workshop life?

"True. But I've got a hunch that once he gets going, that's going to be a two-bedspring bay."

"Pssheah, right. Last one the metal shops had, it left with Smithy. The seniors I knew back in my freshman year said she was a thing of beauty!"

"Smithy really put out, too, if you..."

On that cheerful note, a tall, well-built man, wearing an upscale but not outrageously expensive suit, walked up to the bull session. He was accompanied by a group of adults, and with Murphy's Law in full effect, the odds looked got that they were prospective donors.

*ahem* "Gentlemen, is that any way to speak about one of our alumni, and a lady at that?"

"A Lady? I thought she was American?"

*kick* "Hey, watch it!"

"Um, well... Hello, Mister Turner! What brings you down here to this corner of the Workshop?"

"I was showing some guests of the school around. Now it appears I have a disciplinary action to settle."

"But we were just talking about Smithy and her shop?"

"She didn't have many alloy patents, but good luck affording them! And the knives she turned out - I've seen pictures..."

"Yeah, I heard the school once rescheduled a combat final so she could finish a project. She was that good."

*kick* "Ow!"

"And what was this about bedsprings set out in the work bay?"

"Oh, GOD, no!"

"Huge safety violation..."

"'Specially with a working forge!"

"The bedsprings were on the wall! Hers was the last bay at the end there, and people kept walking into the wall at the end of the tunnel."

Before the guys could either dig themselves a deeper pit to bury themselves or get detention for trying, an Indian woman wearing western clothing suited to professional fashion (to the point allowed by safety standards) under a standard labcoat hurried up to intercept whatever trouble the kids were bringing down upon her Labs.

Professor Choudhari greeted the visiting Assistant Headmaster, "Good afternoon, Mister Turner! I must apologize for my delay - one of our better-prepared incoming freshmen is still setting up and we needed to discuss additional ventilation requirements."

One of the gentlemen in the 'guest' group remarked, "I was under the impression that the Workshop's facilities where among the best in the country!" Did the school need more money just to meet standards, or was it still one of the top facilities to nurture inventors and engineers?

"I assure you they are, but traditional forges and smelters are normally constructed outdoors. We're underground for the school's security, so adjustments periodically must be made for students working to extend those traditions."

Two of the three students' eyes glazed over at the fraction of the discussion they were interested in.

"A smelter? Woah."

"Custom alloys..."

The professor turned to the gossipers, "By the way, gentlemen, please make yourselves more useful and break out two bedsprings. This is Smithy's cousin we're talking about."

A work-day in the life of Ernesto Adrianza

5:00 AM

Ernesto Adrianza got up from his bed and shuffled to the bathroom for a shower. He got dressed in his uniform and headed into the kitchen to have some breakfast. One bagel and some cream cheese later, he was out the door and on his way to work. He loved his job, and every day brought new challenges. He never quite knew what each day would bring.

5:30 AM

Ernesto arrived at work, and punched into the time clock. Giving a nod to Stan and Morrie, he walks to the assignment board.
He had been assigned to general maintenance for the day, and was to be the “on-call” duty member. He smiled at that and relaxed, in other words he gets to sit at dispatch until he is called to a situation. Grabbing some coffee, he settled in, knowing that while he will be busy, at least he won’t have to go down into the sewers like Stan and Morrie.

5:55 AM

A call from Hawthorne Cottage. Ernesto often dreaded these calls, as Hawthorne could be very dangerous, He had learned that the first week on the job when he was called in to fix a leak in one of the basement bathrooms.

Arriving at Hawthorne, Ernest checked in with Mrs. Cantrel. “Buenos dias, Signora Cantrell. What seems to be the problem today?”, He asked in a friendly manner.

Mrs. Cantrel smiled. “Nothing too serious today Ernesto, Lupine clogged one of the drains in the shower area with her fur.”

Cantrel escorted Ernesto to the bathroom, where Ernesto quickly went to work. It took about 5 minutes to snake the clog out and reassemble the drain plug. After Ernesto finished, he washed his hands thoroughly. He smiled and thanked Mrs. Cantrel when gave him a fresh-baked apple muffin on the way out.

6:10 AM

Ernesto sat at the on-call desk, eating a muffin and drinking some coffee.

6:37 AM

A call from Poe Cottage. Ernesto was wary of Poe Cottage, due to the fact that it had a reputation as the “nut house” of Whateley Academy. Many was the time he had to report there for such strange things as replacing warped floorboards from an unexpected indoor thunderstorm, or repairing something damaged in the many “heated disagreements” between Hippolyta and Lancer.

After consulting with Mrs. Horton, Ernesto discovered that a casualty of the prank-war between Generator and Beltane had been the stair railing on the third floor. Ernesto called back to the Maintenance Fabrication department for a new railing to be constructed, using the measurements on file. After informing Mrs. Horton, Ernesto thanked her for the hot M&M cookies she gave him, and informed her that a team would be there to install the new railing within the hour.

7:10 AM

A Plate of cookies (minus one) was placed in the Maintenance Department break room. Ernesto returned to his desk and ate a cookie.

7:45 AM

Ernesto received a call that a bio-hazard clean-up was needed on the Quad, SE corner.

Ernesto knew who it was almost immediately. He had met the young girl responsible on her first day at the school, and knew that she couldn’t really help causing the problem. He didn’t hold it against her, she seemed quite embarrassed by it, and it bothered her.

Donning his re-enforced kevra sealed suit, he hurried to the site. Sam Everheart was there maintaining a cordon around the area. Ernesto smiled at the young girl that was sitting nearby, covered with a plastic blanket to protect her modesty.

“Ah, Senorita Lucy, I see your little brother has been making a mess again. It’s no problem, I shall have everything taken care of in no time.” He smiled at the girl, and went to work.

Everheart had noted where the body parts had landed, and Ernesto very carefully picked up the bone fragments and pieces of organs and assorted other tissues. Having made certain all the contaminants were carefully picked up and cleared away in bio-hazard containers, he went to work spraying the area with a Devisor-made bio-neutralizer. After several applications, the area had been sterilized.

Ernesto took the sealed containers to the incinerator for secure disposal. After dropping his hazmat suit off at the autoclave at Doyle, Ernesto returned to his desk.

8:50 AM

Ernesto arrives back at the on-call desk and contacts groundskeeping to replace the grass and flowers killed off during the sterilization.

9:20 AM

Ernesto takes a coffee break.

9:35 AM

Coffee break over, Ernesto returns to the on-call desk.

9:37 AM

The team working at Poe calls in the railing job as completed. Ernesto logs it in the log book.

10:22 AM

A call from Kirby Hall. Ernesto never liked it when it was a call from Kirby Hall. Magic was outside his comprehension. Kids throwing around vast amounts of mystical power worried him.

Ernesto arrived at Kirby, and walked over to Circe, who seemed to be frowning. The back wall for one of the summoning rooms was blown out.

Circe walked over. “Ah, Ernesto, prompt as usual. We appear to have had a slight… incident. One of the freshmen thought it would impress the teachers to summon a Hell-beast and try to contract it to themselves. Unfortunately, it didn’t like that. I need to go help Chulkris, Grimes, and Fey. But if you would be a dear and have someone here to repair the wall, I’d be ever so grateful.”

Circe ran off in the direction of the woods, as explosions could be heard in the distance. Ernesto shook his head and got out his Walkie-talkie. Five minutes later, a demolition team arrived and began to tear down the ruined wall and clear away the rubble. When carpentry arrived, he left the job in the hands of their foreman, and returned to the on-call station.

11:30 AM

Ernesto clocked out for lunch. He then walked over to Crystal Hall and got a BLT and some seasoned fries to go, along with a cup of coffee. Stepping into the break room, he noticed the cookies were all gone. He washed the tray and took it with him back to the desk. After lunch he would return it to Mrs. Horton.

12:30 PM

Ernesto walked over to Poe and returned the tray to mrs. Horton. Taking the opportunity he checked on the new railing, and found everything to be satisfactory. Upon returning to Maintenance, he clocked back in, and sat back down at on-call.

12:45 PM

Circe walked into Maintenance.

“Ah, Ernesto, Your team is doing a wonderful job on the repairs. I baked this yesterday, but please have some in thanks, and make sure that your team gets some when they are done.”, said Circe, in that sultry way that she had.

With that, the imposing woman turned and walked out. Ernesto examined the pan in front of him, and pulling up the lid, the smell of baklava hit his nose, filling it with that wonderful aroma. Ernesto took a piece, and then put the remainder in the break room fridge, with a note on it for the teams working on Kirby Hall to each take a piece.


1:27 PM

A call from Dillon Chapel. Ernesto didn’t like going over to the chapel, not that he wasn’t a religious man, quite the opposite. He was a God-fearing man, and went to church every Sunday. More his reason for dread was Reverend Englund. He never cared for the man’s fire and brimstone interpretation of a wrathful God. Ernest believed in the philosophy of a forgiving God.

When he arrived, Englund was there to greet him. “Ah, Mr. Adrianza. I have a slight bit of a problem.”

Englund walked him over to a small shed, where the Reverend pressed his own paper for the sermons.

“It’s this mill, you see, one of the cross beams has gone askew on the treadle.“, The Reverend stated, matter of factly.

“Senior Englund, it should not need to be fixed so soon. Salvatore just repaired it last week. If you would not treat it so harshly, it would work better without jamming all the time.”

The Reverend looked angry. “I just called you to fix it, I wasn’t expecting some sort of Spanish Inquisition.”

Ernesto just shook his head. “Si senior, nobody should ever expect that.”

With a sigh, Ernesto pulled out his tools and began his work. It took an hour, but he managed to get the mill working again.

2:30 PM

Ernesto returned to the on-call desk, there would be no treats from Reverend Englund.

2:54 PM

The team working on Kirby Hall called in to report that the wall had been repaired and that the painting crew could come and begin work. Ernesto called down and dispatched a crew of painters to Kirby Hall.

3:30 PM

Ernesto clocked out. It had been a busy day, but a good one. He grabbed Circe’s empty baking dish and washed it, he would drop it off at Kirby and give the wall an examination before heading home.

Mid-September 2007
Whateley


"Guys! We really need to get some plans down for the international fair if we want Canada to have anything decent," Pristine said, trying to bring order to the arguing mix of students.

"I still say we should have something about the early Canadians," Calla, a freshman insisted, pushing a stray bang behind her ear. "We can build a replica of one of the clipper ships, maybe bring in some stuff about the Vikings. It can even show off some of the early contact with the Natives," she said, looking for support from both Pristine and Slapshot.

"But that's just the Maritimes," a tiny freshman who went by Wind Dancer said. "What about the prairies and Alberta? We've done a lot for Canada."

Kew rolled her eyes. "You're all forgetting about Quebec, We were there first, and as one of the founding nations it's important to show at least some of Quebec's culture. Ace feels the same way."

"What about the modern stuff about Canada. Show off the many different cultures of Canada that have come from all over the world?" the martial artist Shuttle asked.

"Well I think," Captain Canada started to speak, only to be shouted down by the group as the argument roared back into life.

Pristine slapped her hands together getting everyone's attention and silence, again.

A Chinese boy in a lab coat who had been sitting quietly off to the side finally spoke. "I thought Canada was about being friendly, and getting along. Why do you have such big argument about this?"

"Sorry Adrenal, you haven't been Canadian very long, so you haven't learned some of the intricacies of Canada," Pristine said.

"The most important being mutual hatred of everyone else in Canada," Calla said.

Adrenal looked very confused. "What? I do not understand."

"It's simple," Wind Dancer, the tiny Albertan girl said, "Alberta is the best province in Canada, and one of the richest. So we're better than everyone else and deserve a lot more respect than we get. The rest of the Prairies can ride on our coattails because they're usually cool."

Slapshot chuckled. "Yeah right, you hicks are too small to matter. Ontario is far better than you, without us Canada would fall apart. You should all be thankful we let you stick around."

"OK there Slappy," Kew said. "If it wasn't for Quebec, Canada wouldn't have any class at all. And we're the only reason you Englishmen didn't join the US. And we all know the best Prime Ministers have been from Quebec."

"J'men calice des politiciens," Calla swore. "You should listen to the Maritimes more, than you Westerners wouldn't screw everything up."

Adrenal looked even more confused.

"All right, I'll put it in simple terms, without the insults," Pristine said, giving the worst offenders the evil eye. "The Maritimes are unhappy with the rest of Canada, because they're so small and think no one listens to them. Everyone ignores the Maritimes because they are so small, and they're constantly asking for money from the rest of Canada."

"We actually kind of like Alberta, they have enough Maritimers working in the oilfields they're practically an honorary member of the club," Calla conceded. Wind Dancer gave her a thumbs up in return.

"Quebec hates English Canada for not being French, and English Canada hates Quebec for not being English."

"You English would just screw up the language if you tried to be as good as us," Kew teased.

"If I may continue?" Pristine asked. "Ontario doesn't realize that the rest of Canada matters, and being elitists wonders why it has to deal with the peasants." The Prairies being the bread and oil basket of Canada think they deserve more respect, which no one gives them because they're just a bunch of farmers and rednecks."

"And proud of it!" Winder Dancer shouted.

"And what do people think of BC?" Adrenal asked.

"You're the weirdo's who get high and make Toronto look normal," Slapshot said.

"And everyone, including Ontario hates Toronto," Shuttle said. "Don't worry the feeling is mutual."

Captain Canada finally spoke up. "Toronto doesn't hate everyone. You're too far beneath our notice to even consider."

"So you see, every part of Canada is too busy hating the other parts to spare much hatred for the rest of the world, which is why everyone thinks we're so nice and polite," Pristine concluded.

"But why does Canada stay together if you hate each other so much?" Adrenal asked.

"That's easy," Calla said. "No one wants to become American."

Lucy wandered around Crystal Hall, taking in the sights. The pest was perched on her shoulder, It had been a good thing that Ribbon had been nearby to provide her a long dress to wear back to the dorm. A quick shower and she felt as good as new. Granted, in about 45 minutes, he’d have to go back in. Sitting down at her usual table, Lucy looked over her lunch. Regen took a LOT of calories, added to that was the fact that her brother couldn’t eat like normal, but rather had to leech nutrients from her. Back on the farm, she could feed 3 or 4 people on what she had in front of her.

Lucy looked around and saw Tanuki looking around uncertainly, clearly at a loss for somewhere to sit. Lucy waved Aggie over, and indicated she should sit with them. The short girl looked at Lucy, then with trepidation, at the creature sitting on her shoulder. She shrugged and walked over. Carefully gathering her loose flowing ankle-length skirt under her, Aggie sat down.

Lucy smiled at Aggie and began the introductions. “Aggie, this nightmare fuel is my little brother, Donnie. Donnie, this is Aggie. We met the other day while you were asleep, and forcing your pornographic dreams on me, you little pervert.”

Donnie did what constituted a shrug for him, since he lacked a neck and shoulders. “What can I say? Fey is hot!”

Lucy and Aggie sat and talked about classes and boys and music, with the occasional interruption from Donnie. After a while, Lucy noticed a girl covered from head to toe in shiny black latex, over which she was wearing her school uniform. She had on a pair of goggles, and what appeared to be some sort of filter mask.

Lucy pointed to the girl with a gesture of her head. “Who is that?”

Aggie looked quickly, before turning her head back. “Oh, that’s Motherload. I’m surprised you haven’t encountered her before. She lives over at Hawthorne. Don’t you live there?”

Lucy nodded. “Yeah, but I really don’t spend a lot of time there, it can be pretty depressing, at times.”

Aggie Turned and motioned for Motherload to come over. “Hey, Angie! Come on over, I have someone I want you to meet!”

The tall, curvy girl came over. She was very shapely, and looked like some fetish Doll lover’s fantasy. She had to be close to 6 foot tall.
She struck a very imposing figure. Sitting down, her head turned towards Aggie, and then towards Lucy, she seemed to be staring. Lucy realized she was looking at Donnie.

Aggie introduced the girl. “Angie, this is Lucy, and her brother Donnie. Guys, this is Angie.”

A very Vader-like hiss came from the mask, and then a soft, gentle voice. “That.. is your brother?”

Donnie approximated a frown, which isn’t easy with a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth. “Hey!”, he exclaimed.

Lucy nodded. “Yeah, I’m called Host. Most of the time, Perv-boy here lives inside my chest cavity. But he needs to come out for an hour or so each day, which he does in a very… painful way.”

Donnie huffed. “I said I was sorry this time!”

Lucy flicked him in the face with her finger, which caused him to hiss at her. “Anyhow, If not for the fact I’m an Exemplar and a very high Regenerator, I’d probably die from it.”

Angie looked at Donnie, after another hiss, she asked, “And what about you?”

Donnie smiled, those ferocious fangs showing. “Besides a telepathic link with big sister emo here, I am a Warper and an Energizer, I can essentially make myself into a super dense bullet, and fly at things at high speed.”

Lucy looked at Angie. “How about you?”

Angie’s head tilted down, and her shoulders slumped. Her mask emitted another hiss. “My mutation is kind of difficult to talk about.”

Angie sighed, and after another hiss, she continued. “When I first manifested, it was after my cat brushed against my shoulder. I felt an irritation and pain, and I went upstairs to sleep it off. When I woke up in the morning, I had a large swollen bump on my shoulder. My parents took me to the doctor and after x-rays and examinations they discovered it was a… for lack of a better term… womb. They kept me in isolation and monitored me. The growth grew and got bigger. After several weeks, it burst and the kittens were born.”

Aggie had evidently heard this story before, but Lucy and Donnie sat there, mouths gaping.

Another hiss, and Angie continued. “After that first incident, I was kept in isolation, however on a couple occasions flies managed to get into the chamber and when they landed on me, more blisters formed. After a few days, those popped and maggots fell from them.The doctors diagnosed it as “Genetic Adaptive Syndrome”, which is a fancy way of saying that when I come in skin contact with any other animal, I absorb its genetic pattern, and my body starts to gestate a copy. After a while they developed a crude version of this isolation suit for me.”

Aggie slid closer to the tall girl and gave her a hug. Angie tussled her hair. There was another hiss. “After that, I was allowed to return home, but there was an accident. I was in the shower one day, and I slipped getting out. I fell and hit my head on the sink. My mother had heard the commotion and rushed in. I was okay, but in her panic, she touched me. Nine months later, I gave birth to my little sister.”

There was a pause, and everyone slid over to hug her. Another hiss indicated that Angie was about to say something. “Thanks everyone, but I’m okay. Mom and Dad are raising her back home, while I’m here. It’s tough. I have a daughter via my mother that genetically is my sister, I can’t hold her, I can’t touch her. But I still love her. That’s why I’m here. Whateley has some of the best geneticists and medical personnel in the world, If they can’t find a cure for me, nobody can.”

Sensing the somber tone at the table, Angie’s filter mask hissed again. “Guys, don’t feel too bad, It’s not all bad… I mean, I can also lift a truck over my head… so there is that.”

The tension broken and lunch nearly done, everyone said their goodbyes. Donnie and Lucy slunk off to find a private spot to re-integrate.

Pejuta rounded the alley's corner and swore as she skidded to a stop. All she needed to do to win the sim was escape, but this was a dead end. She was exhausted, and the Grunts were closing fast, somehow able to see through her ghost walking spell. She was out of arrows, had lost both tomahawks, had been disarmed of her knife, and was forbidden to use Tatanka for this scenario. She and the rest of her team had managed to ruin Slapdash's armor, take out the baby Grunts, and seize the artifact she'd been tasked with stealing, but now she was the only one left standing. The rest had been picked off one by one, and Pejuta was struggling to stay upright as she glanced frantically around the alley looking for an escape that didn't exist. She only had one choice left. "Alright, Gunny!" she shouted at the reddening sky. "You wanted offensive magic? Well, here it is!" She took a trembling swig from her special flask and began to cast.

Slapdash kicked off a dumpster and bounced over a pile of broken pallets to land in Pejuta's leg of the alley. As he hit the ground, Mule burst through the side of a building with Bunker behind him while Bomber and Lancer dropped into the alley from above. "You're cornered!" called Mule to the shaking girl his team had run ragged. "Surrender!"

"Kiss my hairy ass!" shouted Pejuta as she released her spell. The walls of the alley squirmed and became hot, sweaty flesh, and she staggered aside to reveal that the dead end of the alley now featured a large, quivering sphincter. Pejuta gritted her teeth and used the last of her essence to recast her shield just as the sphincter gave way, spewing over a million gallons of steaming diarrhea into the alley like a manhole sized fire hose. "Eat shit and die!" she screamed as the fecal flood slammed the Grunts through the opposite wall.

When Mule and Lancer finally pulled themselves out of the reeking mess, Pejuta was long gone. They just had time to hear the last echos of Gunny's sadistic laughter rolling down from the evening sky like thunder before the sim went black and the soulless voice of the system informed them they'd lost.

"That's my girl," Gunny whispered to himself as he rose from his seat in the control room. He allowed one last chuckle before putting on a scowl and stomping into the debriefing room to give everybody a thorough reaming.

The Witch grinned eagerly as she drank the last dregs of her beloved frappuccino. In approximately thirty seconds her new plaything would enter the Crystal Hall. Grooming this cat's-paw was proving to be particularly pleasurable, though she couldn't quite put a finger on precisely why. His connection to Kayda Franks, perhaps? His budding friendship with Solange and the leverage that provided? His soft, luscious fur? The way he-

"Hey!" shouted Mary as she set down her tray and lunged across the table to seize her already vibrating friend's drink. "You know you can't have this stuff!"

"You're too late!" she cackled.

Mary scowled at the empty frappuccino bottle. "Dammit, Teri!" She began admonishing her diminutive friend on the perils of hyperactivity, but the Witch was too busy watching the doors to pay any attention. And the other doors. And the doggy. And the open doors that Danny Franks was cautiously walking through.

"KITTY!" she screamed as she launched herself into the air and wove through the students at the blistering pace of a hummingbird on meth. "Kitty kitty pretty kitty itty bitty flitty kitty!"

"Kill me now," Danny muttered as the fairy girl draped herself over his rapidly fuzzing head and began scratching his ears.

"That's basically what I'm doing!" the Witch said cheerily. "I'll wear you down and build you back up and then you'll be my pet minion forever and ever and ever!"

"Please don't."

She smiled and pulled a maroon collar with a bell on it from her genuine Möbius brand handbag, then slid down his face to show it to him. Danny stared at it in horror as her vibrating intensified, and then she vanished in a blur to secure it around his neck. "This kitty's mine, hallelujah! This kitty's mine; so fine!" She punctuated the song by kissing the back of his neck before zipping around to kneel on his shoulder. Danny tugged awkwardly at the padlocked collar as she scratched behind his jaw with a giggle. "So, Kitty, now that you're mine I can't keep calling you Kitty. You need a name!"

"I have a name," he said. "It's Danny! And get this thing off of me!"

"How about Princess? Or Boots? Mr. McSnookums? No, wait wait wait, I already know the perfect name!"

"Danny."

"Donald! Don for short!"

"My name is Danny."

The Witch fluttered down to hover in front of him, resting her head on his throat as she reached around to massage his neck. She could feel his purring rumbling through her body as she used her wings to press herself against him. It was so soothing. "You are a very good kitty, Donald!"

"I'm Danny."

"And you aren't just the best kitty, Donald, or even the best kitty-Donald! You're the best Donald, kitty! Oh yes you are! You are! You are the best Don! The very best!" She zipped up to hug his cheek as she transitioned into song. "Like no Don ever was! To catch you was my real test! To train you is my cause!"

"I don't need-"

"We will travel across campus, plotting far and wide!"

"Teri! Everyone's looking at us!"

"No other Don can comprehend the power of nine lives!"

"Teri! Stop it!"

The Witch unlatched from his face and hovered in front of his stomach. "Little Don-Don is cranky! He must be hungry. Oh yes he is! I hear those rumblies in his tumbly!" She darted up and grabbed him by the collar. "Come on, Donald! You need your breakfast so you can grow up to be a big, strong minion! I mean pet!" She continued in a sing-song voice as she dragged him to the food line. "Now eat! Now eat! This is a very important treat! It's time to take pancakes, bacon! Now eat and eat and eat!

"Okay! Okay! I'll get some food! That's what I was trying to do in the first place before you started harassing me!"

"Good kitty!" She released his collar and patted his nose as he got in line, then she started racing around his head in circles. "Very good! So good that while you're doing this, I'm going to reward you with a good grooming!"

"I- what? No!"

She made a cartoony tire-skid sound with her voice as she stopped in front of him with a shocked expression that rapidly transitioned to a disappointed pout. "But I thought you like it when I groom you?"

"In private," Danny hissed.

The Witch burst into a mad grin. "Oh, is that all? I'm not going to take your clothes off in the Crystal Hall, silly! I'm grooming you to be a minion, not a stripper!" Before he could question that, she pulled a cat brush out of her bag and darted under his shirt. "See?" called her muffled voice as she began running the brush through his fur. "You've got all the privacy you could dream of! And it's oh so warm and soft and cozy in here!"

Danny's eyes twitched as his peers jeered, sneered, and leered. "Teri!" he hissed over his purring. "Cut it out! Everyone's staring at me! And some of them are whistling!"

"Don't worry!" the Witch giggled before launching into yet another song, this one a little bit slower than the others. "I'm a little fairy flirt, but they can't see beneath your shirt! So don't worry! Be happy! 'Cause when you worry your purr will stop, then you won't make good minion stock! Don't worry! Be happy! Stay furry and happy, now! Oooooo oooo ooo oooOooo oooOOOoooOOOoooOOOooo... Don't worry! I'm brushing out my kitty's fuuuur... Be happy! I'm iiiinside his shiiiirt... Don't worry, be happy!"

"Teri, I swear-"

"No!" shouted the Witch as she popped her upper body out through the neck of his shirt. "Don't swear, Don-Don! Swearing is dangerous and I need my pet kitty minion."

"You keep calling me your minion," Danny muttered nervously as he stepped forward in line and finally got to start slopping food onto his tray. "What do you even need a minion for?"

She extricated herself fully, snatched a strawberry from his plate, and then flew up to his ear to stage whisper. "I need your help so I can out-sexy that whore Fey! And I need you to be a better Don-Don than Don so I can show him what-four and what-five and what-six. Oh oh oh, and we also need to prank my old teacher, so don't freak out when I start following you around with the pooper scooper! I need supplies for the prank and they don't always sell what I need at the campus store! Also, I require many cuddles and somebody to sneak frappuccinos to me past Mary the Meddling Meddler!"

"I'm not doing those things." He glanced around nervously, then added in a whisper, "Except the cuddles. Cuddles are nice. But I'm not doing those other things."

The Witch laughed giddily between bites of the strawberry. "That's what they all say! But try to understand; try to understand; try, try, try to understand... I've got a magic plan, Don-Don! Ohhhh, you're in my magic hands."

"I'm doomed."

Inside the magic classroom the freshman students were murmuring to themselves about the unknown 5th year senior who was supposed to be the teacher’s student aid. Just then the teacher with dark hair and eyes so old only those in front could see strode in. She waved the rowdy freshman into settling into their seats, before starting her opening statements of the class.

“Now, I’m sure all of you have had the chance to meet Kodiak. He is one of our 5th year seniors, but the other one has volunteered his time away from his own classes to help tech up and coming mages. So please welcome my new TA, Tom the Lich.” Circe exclaimed to the class and inflecting with her voice that the unknown being should walk through the door.

Tom didn’t walk through the door. Instead a small boy got up from the back of the classroom and walked towards the front. His black hair slicked back the same shade as his Whateley blazer and trousers. The class began to giggle at the thought of this small boy being their teacher. He certainly didn’t look like it. When the boy got to the front of class, his body erupted in green flames burn away his disguise. Leaving behind a seven foot tall skeleton wrapped in robes of pure night, and a pair of light blue flames flickered with delight in the eye sockets.

“Hello, I’m Tom. I like death, destruction, and raising the dead. I hate cute things, Generator, Team Kimba, Wondercute, Generator opps…already said that….Umm…Yea soo history lesson. I’ve been around since the dark ages. Around 800 years, and I’m looking for a new apprentice….Someone to pass the torch if you will…You won’t really learn anything. I’ll just take over your body and eat your soul. This body is nothing, well nothing but bones that is.” Tom said pointing to his own ribs letting the silence of the class slice through him. “Any questions?”

One freshman girl raised her hand. “Yes, you in the back.” Tom pointed out.

“Umm…I want to join Wondercute, does that mean you will hate me?” The small girl asked fidgeting in her seat. Only to be pushed deeper into her seat as Tom walked to her silently like death.

With a flick of his skeleton hands a small green cloud of smoke puffed into existence before being waved off. Left in the middle of her desk was a small tub of opened ice cream. The girl looked at in awe, as the frozen cream inside was jet black with hits of green.

“NEED A SPOON?” Tom insisted handing the girl a solid ruby spoon.

Taking the spoon with trembling fingers the girl took one small slice of the ice cream and put it in her mouth. Letting the cream melt in her mouth. Not tasting anything she dipped the spoon into the tub again for a bigger chunk. This time however the moment the ice cream touched her tongue she threw herself to the floor clutching the sides of her face. Her mouth disobeyed her brain locking down on the horrific taste. She forced herself to swallow.

Just then an explosion of glitter and smoke. Jade strode through the hole in the wall dressed in her sailor fuku outfit and screamed “STOP! ENEMY OF CUTE!”

Tom simply hissed in response his normal cool blue eyes red with fury and evil. Turning himself into a giant shadow and flew out the window and escaped the cute crusader.

Jade spotted the fallen recruit in the middle of the class. Running over to the newest member. Jade held the limp body in her arms shaking her trying to wake her. The girl was weak. The cute had been sucked out of her. “What did he give you?! Tell me!” Jade screamed. The girl could only point weakly at the tub of ice cream. Dipping her finger in the tub Jade then licked it clean. Waiting for the taste to hit her.

“Black licorice and wasabi ice cream…..TOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMM!!!! ” Jade screamed shaking her fists at the ceiling before running out the hole in the wall.

“So is class cancelled….No? Yes?”

The Witch looked up from her bed as her slave entered the room. "Did everything go as planned?" She asked.

"Yes, Mary," Teri answered, hovering in midair, head down, eyes black. "I was able to join the Cutettes, they don't suspect anything."

"Good, and how did Danny take it?" the Witch asked, a smile coming to her face as she felt the true emotions of the little fairy through their bond.

"About as well as you expected, Mary." Tears formed in her eyes now that she was alone with her mistress and didn't have to project the happy go lucky image of her mask. "I humiliated him in Crystal Hall by forcing him to wear your collar. Some of the girls didn't want to laugh but as soon it was in place no one could stop laughing or wanting to pet him. Then I saved him from some Juniour boys by flying him away professing my love for the," she stopped a second to sob, "the cute kitty around half of Whateley."

The Witch started to laugh as she relived the moment through her slaves memory. "Excellent, that little freak will be begging for help by the end of the week."

"Please, Mistress," Teri began, "You promised to help me get back to my family. I've done everything you wanted."

"I never promised that, I promised you'd find happiness again. You simply assumed I'd help your parents come to terms with your freakishness. But I do keep my promises, so... Slave you have done a good job, be happy. And forget all about your family, they don't matter."

Teri silently screamed as her memories faded away. It only lasted a moment though as sheer bliss at knowing she'd pleased her mistress overcame her. Falling onto her bed, she stared happily at the wall, her mouth stretched into an oversized grin.

The Witch ignored her slave/roommate, the little freak would be silent until she was needed. She chided herself at not thinking to remove the memories of Teri's family earlier. She had to allow the freak a little more autonomy than she had with her previous slaves to avoid suspicion, but the constant moaning about her family had grown bothersome. The Witch wondered how much more she could alter her slaves memories before it become too noticeable.

"Everyone is looking at me," Mary muttered.

"Only because you look so hot," Teri said just as quietly from her perch on Mary's shoulder.

"Sure, everyone knows, grey skin with black lines through it is the must have look this season. I should get some more makeup," Mary said, tugging at her sleeves to hide more of her skin.

"If you don't stop that," Teri warned, "I'm going to go through your closet and steal everything that isn't shorts, t-shirts and skirts. You look great, now own it!"

Whatever Mary had been about to say was left unsaid as they saw Aegis harassing a Whitman girl. "Teri! Don't-" But it was too late, the fairy had disappeared.

Hoping to keep her roommate out of trouble, Mary straightened her shoulders and strode forward trying to look as confident as possible. Aegis had only seen her with makeup on, looking like a normal girl, so if she acted fast she might be able to resolve the situation while the ass was still confused.

"Come on Blair, let's get away from this asshole," Mary said, wrapping a protective arm around the girl who had bright yellow canary feathers and a small beak. Both girls began walking hurriedly away.

"Hey! I'm not going to let you villains get away that easily!" Aegis shouted.

"Fuck off, numb nuts!" Mary shouted back, feeling her cottage mate shoulders begin to shake. "The only villain here is you."

"I just want to get to class, ASSHOLE!" Blair squawked. "I didn't ask to look like this!"

Aegis didn't get the message, ranting about super villains he stormed after them and grabbed Mary by the shoulder.

"No touching!" Teri shouted from around Aegis' feet. She had gotten a nylon rope from somewhere and using her speed wrapped it around the boys hand two or three times before he could blink. Then she was flying backwards, wrenching the boy away from Mary, and dragging him behind her.

While Aegis screamed bloody murder, he was was hauled over to a tree, and hung by his arm as Teri tied him very securely to a branch. Satisfied with her work, Teri grabbed him by his nostrils and said, "Aegis, the next time I see you bothering a Whitman girl, I will turn you into a human pinata. GOT IT?!"

Not bothering to listen to his reply, the fairy flew back to the two girls giggling madly. "So anymore bullies I can beat up today?"

"I understand where you're coming from," said Louis with a sad smile. "I used to hate running. But now I actually miss it, cramps and all."

Christine winced. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be insensitive. But God do I ache! Caitlin is imp-lacable!" She chewed the last of her pasta. "Speaking of lakes, a good hot soak is what I need. With bubbles. First thing when I get home." She signaled to Dave to bring her bill, then groaned when he just nodded and headed to another table first.

"Tell you what, Christine. You don't need to wait for him. Tonight'll be on me. You just go ahead and get out of here."

"That's sweet of you, Louis, but I can wait."

Louis frowned as the presence he was sensing continued getting closer. "No, Christine, I mean it. Go on home and get that bath. You deserve some relaxation."

"Look, he's almost done. I'm not going to imp-ose on you. I know about that lawsuit with the plushie company. You have enough to deal with as it is."

Louis sighed to himself. If he'd been paying more attention instead of moping earlier, he'd have had enough time to convince her, but now it was too late. Even if she agreed to let him pay right now, she wouldn't quite be out of here fast enough. He shrugged and added a bowl of illusory popcorn to his projection as she paid the bill. Maybe there would at least be some imp-ressive fireworks to watch.

Just as Christine finally turned to leave, the door of the Brown Moose opened to admit Williams. She stiffened and they glared silently at each other for a few seconds as conversation died down, then she threw a smoke bomb and vanished from sight. Well, from most people's sight. Louis could still sense her standing there as Williams gave a disgusted snort and headed toward an empty table. Christine began creeping slowly toward the doors while conversation resumed, careful not outpace her chameleon effect. Not much of a firework show, Louis supposed, but that was probably for the best.

"You know," said an off-duty security officer at a nearby table, "that's really the best power."

"Really?" said his incredulous companion, wrinkling her nose as she waved her hat to fan away the smoke. "I think it stinks. It's very inconsiderate to use it indoors."

"No, not the smoke. The teleporting."

"Oh. Yes, that part would be nice."

"Nice? Think of how much time it would save! It's damned amazing is what it is!"

"Well, that's a bit hyperbolic, but yes." She set her hat upon her head and fished out a few bills for the tip, and then the two left their table. "Eliminating transit time would be quite convenient."

The officer laughed as they walked obliviously past Christine, still slowly working her way toward the door. "In the time it's taking us just to leave the restaurant, I bet she's already teleported directly into her bathroom, ditched her clothes, and hopped right into the bath."

"A hot, ready bath she could have drawn in advance by teleporting home briefly near the end of her meal."

"Exactly! God, she is so lucky! I'd kill for a good hot bath right now. Chasing these kids around really wears a guy out, let me tell you."

"Murder won't be necessary. I happen to be in possession of a suitable bathtub, and I'm certain we can find a means to entertain ourselves while we wait for it to fill."

Christine moved another slow foot across the floor while the doors swung shut behind the lovebirds. Louis suppressed a chuckle as he watched her glacial progress. After a few minutes he had his projection get up and push the door open, and he smirked as she slipped through it with him. Leaning casually toward her invisible ear, he whispered, "They're already in that tub, you know."

"Lime Jello it is."

Louis laughed. "Before you commit to that, Christine, I want you to know that you've been a bad influence on me."

"Oh?"

"There was a bottle of hot sauce near the soup Rick was preparing for Williams. I may have accidentally spilled some."

Christine grinned. "Jellogeddon averted."

"That's a relief. You have a good evening, Christine."

"You too, Louis."

"Oh, I already am. I tricked Centurion into turning up my pool's heater when he served detention earlier. There's going to be a huge mess for Aegis to clean up tomorrow, but it's so worth it."

"Wait," said Christine as his projection began to fade. "You mean you've been soaking in a hot tub this entire time?"

Louis winked and disappeared.

"Lime," Christine muttered to herself as she resumed limping home. "Definitely lime."

Monday late morning, Oct 29th, 2007, The Quad


"Mads, is the school really supposed to let overgrown vatjobs like that bully the little kids?" Lars was getting the idea that Fen and Mads hadn't been as overprotective as it originally looked.

"ehm, No. Keep an eye on 'em while I call it in - in case the cameras didn't pick up."

Lars did as asked, noting that his brother - wizkid or not - was now angling towards the escalating altercation. So too, was another guy who had just left the cafeteria. On the bright side, he'd been told that many of the kids with the cos-sculpted looks were usually faster and stronger than the norms, as if they had been cybered up at the same time. In this case... ouch!.

"And that, lillebror, is how NOT to take a punch."

"I know. 'Can't hit what ain't there'. Holy f--!"

"Word of warning. Ember practices on the heavy weapons ranges for a reason. Miranda's control's getting better, I see. Hang back a minute and copy visual?"

"Null sheen on that"

"Thanks! Oy! You two stick around. Chibi evil, I will tell the Evil One and the Greater Evil Bitch if I have to."

Both girls realized that they weren't in a lot of trouble, not from the Auxiliary Security kid. The other guys? That was different. Miranda giggled, knowing how badly appalled her sister would be if she repeated half the things she heard crossing the boy's mind.

The kid yelled back to his own younger sibling, "Lars! Change of plan: watch the vic until the morning shift gets here?"

He then turned his full attention on Bully No. 1, "Ron Stoppable! How nice of you to drop in. But if you don't stop moving, your face and Mister Nine Millimeter are going to be having an intimate conversation."

"You little piece of-"

"Ah ah ahhh! Ladies are present, I'm with Security myself, and you are going to go peacefully with the boys and girls in their nice pressed uniforms, or else."

"Else what, maggot?"

"That will be Our Little Surprise. Self-defense y'know."

"Jensen! Would you please stand down? We've got this."

"Hi, Officer Mendez. Top of the morning to you! Perp here says he wanted to spend some personal time with Maggot today, anyway."

"Oh HELL no, you freak!"

"Stoppable - shut the fuck up. Jensen - Just. Go check on Aegis. He's right over ... Madre de Dios! There are two of YOU, too?"

"Nah. My little bro's just visiting. Larceny, what you got on the flatscan?"

"I'm calling it a concussion in addition to the obvious. Help me roll him into recovery position?"

"Sure. I'll hold the head and neck... Officer Simpkins?"

"Got it. You young ladies hang here for a minute. Aegis in a bad way this time?"

Chris woke up again to hear the tail end of "... do it now, the surgeon will have to re-break it all to pull bone shards out of the sinuses."

That sounded like a very good reason to pass back out.

Waking back up to the biggest lady doctor he'd ever seen reaching for his face, and OMG she was greenish gray and she had horns!... Chris decided then and there he'd died and was in hell, before passing back out again.

He repeated the sentiment later that evening to one of the doctors. She assured him he was not in Hel, because a Certain Problem Student of hers was getting Detention the next time he took someone, no, anyone there again. Then she added a note to her patient's chart that he should be evaluated for blood pressure problems, on the basis of his recent fainting spells.

Ray 'Render' Banks greeted the small grouping of new kids with a polite smile and said, "Okay, now that you're all here, let me welcome you all to the Bad Seeds hang. Yes, we're all the children of various supervillains. You don't have to hang out with us and nobody needs to know who your parents are., But we ARE a resource that-"

"That's NICE," sneered one of the new girls, a sleek blonde who, to Ray's practiced eye, had 'budding exemplar' written all over her. With frosty blue eyes flashing, she and a gorgeous girl with the features of a classic Mediterranean beauty and the body of a fitness model, stepped forward. "Because, it seems that that information is now common knowledge! Sophia and I have not only gotten shoehorned into Poe Cottage- when I know that my Dad was actively lobbying to get me into Melville- but they put the two of us together in the same room! Some chick named 'Goodkind'- and I mean, GOD, a Goodkind at Whateley? What's THAT about?- she has dossiers! On BOTH of us! Now there's no way that the Administration is gonna violate confidentiality to a student, so the question IS: WHO'S IN CHARGE OF YOUR SECURITY?"

Crystall Hall
15 May 2007
"Man, Jack was just driving me nuts all spring break!", exclaimed Lucille, referring to her younger brother. "I'll bet he's planning something nasty of when we go home next week, too. He's the biggest brat ever! I swear, if he ends up at Whateley too, I'm gonna freak!"

Anna and Mindy both gave her odds looks, though very different ones, but it was Anna who spoke up first.

"Oh, c'mon, it can't be that bad. I mean, I'd have given anything to have a younger brother or sister. There's got to be something cool about it..."

Suddenly, Washout, who had a look of horror on her face, pushed away from the table and stood up. Looking around, and look of both pain and determination on her face, started walking. The junior was visibly shaking as she walked towards the table where Kayda Franks was talking with Elaine Schroepfer.

Back at the Underdogs' table, everyone watched this, stunned. Moments later, Dismiss gave a look of realization, and seemed to shrink visibly as she seemed to suddenly be fascinated with the plate in front of her. Everyone, even Alan, seemed surprised, and gave her questioning looks.

"What?" Trish finally spat, then stammered, "I... don't really know what's up, I just... listen, I can't talk about it, you have to ask Mindy, OK? She... please, just don't push her, I don't think she'll, uh, just let it go, all right?"

"My parents died," spat the Imp.

"No," intoned her white and green clad antagonist. "I am your parents!"

"NOOooo... wait, what'chu talkin' 'bout, Sphincter? I had two parents. I only see one Sphincter."

"No, you see one Asterisk, but the Asterisk is a very inclusive symbol. Research regular expressions; they'll show it to be true!"

"I guess regularity is important when you're a sphincter, let alone one this full of shit."

"Verily!"

"So how'd the two of you become one? Did you just stuff your heads so far up each other's asses you got stuck?"

"We were renewing our vows when we put on the rings we'd had made from a rare gem. As the rings slid into place, there was a flash of green and white light. And then..." He gestured at himself.

"By our assholes combined," shouted the Imp, "I am Captain Sphincter!"

"Exactly, but with less cheer and a lot more horrified screaming."

"I imagine. And where'd you find the sense of humor?"

"Well, the screaming wasn't exactly good for business, so I saw a therapist about it. He was useless, but I met a comedian in the waiting room." Asterisk peeled off a glove to reveal a shiny blue hand bearing a wedding ring. "You could say he rubbed off on me."

"Blue skin, huh? Please tell me you're not hiding a green mullet under there too."

"No comment."

Inspired by my daughter today.

"Daddy make a normal face," Angelica said, trying not to laugh.

"Like this?" Dennis replied, stretching his face so his chin was down near his chest and his eyebrows were high on his forehead.

His daughter covered his face with her hands, struggling to stifle her giggles. "No your normal face!"

Curling his lips inwards, puffing his cheeks out, and opening his eyes as wide as possible, Dennis grinned and managed to say, "OK, this is normal."

By closing her eyes, Angelica managed to not laugh. Putting her hands on her hips and glaring as best she could with her eyes shut she said, "DADDY! Look. Normal. Now!"

OK, sweety. Just a minute." Concentrating, the skin on his face turned into purple scales, his eyes went a dark amber with hourglass pupils, his nose and mouth merged into a small muzzle, and the brown hair on his head became soft quills covered in birdlike down of brilliant red and blue. "I'm normal now."

Opening her eyes, Angelica looked him over closely. "Good. Don't change again."

Playing Dress-up with Épinette

Maybe the time of year was to blame, but Talia (short for 'Natalya Jane', formerly 'Jay') Declan did not recall her brother being thrust headfirst into the world of menswear with anything close to the enthusiasm being rained down on her. Whereas Mom took the opportunity to pass on all the accumulated wisdom that Hannah had escaped, Lily and Amy at least took some pity on her. They waited until Jimmy T and Metro had thoroughly traumatized her with just how closely an omni-shifter and an illusionist could scrutinize, critique, and advise, regarding clothing meant for the opposite gender - assuming either boy had one. Only then did the two young women drag Ribbon over to play dress-up, and help the newly minted young lady get a feel for the clothes and accessories she might want to wear.

'Anya, I thought girls just dressed nice to look good and sometimes impress a guy. To hear everyone here talk, it's a game that's more cut-throat than high-stakes poker!'

'Judging by your memories of poker, that's a more civilized game. The details have changed over the years, but a woman's wardrobe is no less complicated now than a tsarina's armoire or a boyar's armory.'

'Did women back then carry as many knives and holdouts as Metro's recommending?'

'I did say that poker was more civilized, didn't I?'


As it turned out, the inevitable shopping expedition started with Rogers' Fabric Boutique in Dunwich, as Doctor Beaulieu needed to procure clothes suited to her height and build. Five-inch titanium-reinforced stiletto heels were impressive on a woman who was practiced at wearing them with a skirt cut to just the right length. That they could double as weapons...

'Cut-throat?'

'Oh, yes.'

Evelyn and Cecilia were able to talk both Declan ladies into a couple of dresses neither one would have dared try on. However, an up-and-coming Army officer's wife in D.C. needed evening wear. Even if her daughter did gain control of her powers without needing to attend Whateley, there were formal evenings in her future now as well. But the cost of tailor-made dresses?

"Cecilia," Evelyn caught the shop-owner's attention, "He's not getting away with whatever he called in, so let's hear it."

"Believe it or not, your older son wasn't the only cook stirring the pot. He did request I release some fabrics for your use and did suggest that the Declans could take advantage of his lab allowance for Costuming I. "

Mrs. Declan mused, "That sounds... rather expensive. He honestly didn't seem the sort of boy to bother much with such things."

Talia shook her head. Some of what Mads considered acceptable daily wear was almost as mentally scarring as Jimmy Trauger's tips for how to pull the ensembles off, and Alyss' encyclopedic knowledge of how to remove them in tight spaces.

"Mrs. Declan, without going into confidential details I can safely say that Mads Jensen's more expensive tastes usually involve concealed body armor. He does have a couple of very good suits, if I say so myself."

"Mads. My brother, not in a uniform?" Lars remembered seeing him in uniforms from school and work, but otherwise it was Chez Goodwill.

"Lars dear, business and evening wear are practically uniforms. The key is figuring out the uniform of the day for the location and the job."

"I still have trouble picturing him with a tailor."

"Once you stop growing so fast and we can afford it, you'll be wanting to retain a couple of trusted tailors yourself. Ill-fitted armor makes for a miserable time of it, and you'll want any personal gear where you can get to it. "

"What about when he, um, you know?"

"Did anyone at that school ever discuss how easy it can be to trace a magician via personal items?"

"Oh." Lars' eyes widened. "Ohhhh. That's sneaky."

"If that's settled? Ladies, I'll warn you in advance that some of these designs came from the musings of a sixteen year old boy..."


It took very little time for the Declan ladies to notice that said teenager had some very unique? perspectives on modern feminine fashion. Combined with Cecilia's sense of style, knowledge of construction techniques, and uncanny ability for identifying Mrs. Ryan's moderating influences, what might have been a simple fitting became a master class in fashion.

"Cecilia, I think that somewhere between Talia's hemline and mine we might find something we both can wear..."

"Heh. You could hide a shotgun under a dress that long!"

"Son, that's why god invented roomsweepers."

"... could stop a bullet or two, you'd still have some hefty bruises."

"Couldn't I just wear a vest instead?"

"Under a rugby shirt or sweat shirt, maybe. Ballistic vests aren't considered formal wear where we'll be living."

"Toe caps and metatarsal protection? What for?"

"Some newly-minted Lieutenants only think they can dance. I wish I had a pair of shoes that sturdy when I was younger."

"No. No. No! No, way!"

"Just try the outfit on. You might be surprised. At least any pollen will brush right off."

"Oh my gawd."

"So! Talia. What plans do you have this weekend?"

"YOU are going to be on a plane, young man."

"New Year's plans?"

"Copenhagen."

"D.C., with family, young lady."

'Can we cook, or what?'

'I'm so glad the doctors have us on the good drugs! Did he just make a pass at me in front of our parents?'

'I notice you didn't say no.'

'His brother's wierd enough for three people and a midget, but I can think of several girls who'd've said yes already.'

'As we've been saying: it's cut-throat competition from here on out.'

June 18th, 2007
3:15 AM
Little Rock, AR

Bobbi looked down at Tiffany, The taller girl was asleep, her head in Bobbi’s lap. Bobbi gently stroked her girlfriend’s hair. They had been on the run for over a month, The MCO still hot on their trail. In that time, the two girls had become close. The previous night, they made that tentative step past friends, and became lovers. Tiffany stirred, Smiling as she slept, secure with her lover.

Bobbi gently extricated herself from the role of pillow, and slunk to the boarded up window. The house they were in was dilapidated and condemned. Bobbi and Tiffany had been making their way east. Tiffany had called her mother and step-father, and had been told that things were still very dangerous in New Mexico. They loved her, but didn’t want her hurt. If they could make it to New Hampshire, her mother’s elder sister lived in Concord, and would take in the two. It was a long way, but neither girl had much in the way of family past their parents, and Aunt Frannie was the best bet.

—————

Tiffany woke up to find that Bobbi had gone out scavenging again. It was dangerous, but being wanted, they couldn’t get jobs, even under the table ones. They had made it this far hitching rides, and hopping trains, but a couple days ago, they had a scare. A trucker had promised to take the girls as far as Memphis, but when they had gotten to the middle of nowhere, he attempted to attack the girls, looking to sexually assault them. Fortunately the girls were stronger, and fended him off, but they had been left miles away from anywhere. After climbing onto the back of a semi, at a small truck stop, they had made it to Little Rock.

Bobbi returned and saw her girlfriend still sleeping. She had managed to pilfer some pre-made sandwiches and a few candy bars and sports drinks from a gas station. The girls sat and ate in silence.

Tiffany frowned. “Bobbi dearest, I love you. I get so worried when you go out. Please let me help!”

Bobbi looked at the girl of her dreams. Tiffany was 6 foot tall, and blonde haired with ice blue eyes. She was a D cup, and had curves that supermodels would be envious of. She stood out too much. Bobbi had been gifted with exemplar looks, herself, but hers were easier to conceal. She stood at a little over five and a half feet tall, with brunette hair and hazel eyes, she was a C cup herself, her hips and waist provided above average curves, easily the type that would normally be considered for the ‘hottest girl in school’ type.

Bobbi leaned against her girlfriend. She had not been feeling that good. Her stomach ached, she felt tired and irritable. She felt a wetness in her underwear, and something dripping down her leg. Cautiously, Bobbi undressed and then she nearly screamed. She would have, if Tiffany hadn’t covered her mouth with her hand. Stroking the crying Bobbi’s hair, she held her sweetie until she fell asleep.

Tiffany resolved then and there to do her part. She carried her sleeping love to the nest of old blankets that had serves as their makeshift bed. First things first, they needed new clothes, water, and essentials. Both girls had been wearing the same clothes for a month. They smelled pretty bad, Tiffany admitted. Bobbi had no body hair, but Tiffany felt grossed out by her unshaven legs and pits.
Yep, she would need to fix this situation, and fast.

"Heh," the cashier chuckled, holding up the large bottle of cheap water, "did you know Evian water sells for 4 bucks, and this only sells for a dollar fifty."

"Really," Clark answered trying to sound interested, knowing he should make some comment, but having no idea what to say and no energy to worry about it.

"Yeah, I guess it's because of the fancy bottle. It's a square, and what water is square?" The cashier said, trying and failing to make polite conversation.

"Ice cubes," Clark answered without really thinking. He faked a little smile he didn't feel.

The cashier looked at him for a second, and then burst out laughing. "Hey you're right. I never thought of that."

"Have a good night," Clark said, grabbing his bag of drinks and leaving the little all night convenience store. He amazed himself at how cheerful he sounded. Reaching his car he sighed, trying to find some connection to reality, something that would make him feel alive again.

Sliding into the drivers seat he pulled onto the street and drove to work. He saw the road leading out of town and wondered what it would be like to just keep driving until he was out of gas, and then to get out and hitchhike somewhere, anywhere at all. He'd travelled the world when he was younger, he could do it again. Or he could hit the road they laughably called a highway and see just how fast his car could go around the hairpin corners. That would be interesting for a bit.

As the CD played a song he knew off by heart, he let out a scream at how his life had turned out.

Then he signalled and made a turn into his work place. The building was dark and he knew it would be a long, slow night with little to do.

He was early so he sat in his car, trying to work up the willpower to go inside. He could feel the ropes tying him to the town he hated getting tighter, If he didn't do something soon, he'd never leave. He'd grow old, bitter, and hopeless, an empty husk who could only live on dreams of the past and the crushed hopes of a future that had never come.

Getting out, he made sure to lock his door, stretching out the moment where he could pretend in the darkness that things were different.

Striding across the parking lot, he pasted on the smile that he used to greet his co-workers, thought of the witty things he could say to make them think that everything was all right with the world.

He was so lost in his little world he never saw the streak of light shooting through the air that destroyed the main entrance to his workplace.

Staggering to his feet, his face sunburnt, his clothes ruined, Clark didn't think only reacted. He saw a man in front of him wearing a costume, 'The Silver Streak', a voice in his mind told him, and ran to his side. His first aid course taken years ago, but kept fresh from studying came to the fore. His hands reached out to find a pulse even as his mouth asked if the superhero needed help. That was important to avoid getting sued if something went wrong.

Then Clark saw the piece of steel sticking out both sides of the hero's neck and noticed the growing pool of blood soaking into his pants. There was nothing he could do.

A gauntlet of black metal rose from the rubble of what had been the front desk and the surrounding wall. Dark red blood was dripping from the cracks.

"Shit," Clark whispered seeing the super villain. He couldn't remember the guys name, some big shot from Vancouver, halfway across the country. But he knew that the villain liked a large body count.

His instincts screamed at him to run, to hide. Something else made him look at the body of the fallen hero, he didn't know what he was looking for, a weapon, a shield, something. The adrenaline pumping through his veins made everything seem to move in slow motion, it felt like the last time he'd stopped a street mugging years ago.

His hand found a braclet under the long elbow length glove of the hero. He ripped at it, the metal chain shouldn't have broken, it was thick and felt like steel, but it had all the strength of a brittle twig.

The villain groaned, finally clearing the debris away so he could look around.

Clark scrabbled away from the hero and the villain, shoving the bracelet into his pants pocket while his body blocked it from view. The villain didn't waste time with words. A shaky hand rose and fired a bolt of energy into his back, sending him flying through the outside brick wall and the front of a car.

Clark laid there on the twisted metal and the remnants of the front seat, trying to catch his breath wondering why he wasn't dead. He smelled burning meat, and realized that his pants were on fire. Patting out the burning material he felt the braclet burn his palm. Pulling it out again, he saw the jewel in the centre glowing a sullen red.

He heard the villain screaming in rage tossing the hero's body into a wall. "WHERE IS IT?!"

Very quietly, Clark put the broken braclet into his other pocket and got out of the car. There was a thick chunk of cement lying on the ground with a piece of rebar sticking out of it. Grabbing it, Clark grinned ferally. He remembered that the Silver Streak had had super speed.

The grin got bigger as he ran at the unsuspecting villain, his impromptu weapon ready to swing.

"I don't get it," said Mary as she squinted at Teri's Halloween costume. She'd expected her to go as Tinkerbell, Navi, Thumbelina, or Paul Bunyan. Something that made sense. This? This was nonsense. She had a tiny version of one of those signs that people sometimes wear covering everything but her head, arms, and feet, but it didn't have any recognizable logos or slogans on it. Instead, it featured a beige background with an eye-watering series of concentric rectangles, each a slightly darker shade of beige than the one containing them. Each rectangle had illegibly small text above and sometimes below the next rectangle. "Are you supposed to be one of those index cards libraries used to track things before computers?"

"They had libraries before there were computers? Why? That makes no sense!"

"Of course they had libraries before computers, Teri! They've had libraries since ancient times. Ever hear of the Library of Alexandria?"

"Isn't that in Canada?"

"No! Ancient Egypt!"

Teri frowned in confusion. "But if they didn't have computers, why did they need libraries?"

"To read?"

"You can read in a library? I thought they were just where you go to print things when you don't have a printer."

"I- You- Yes, Teri. You can read in libraries. They're full of books. That's the whole point! If you go past the part with the computers, there are rows and rows of shelves. And those shelves are where all the little books live when people aren't reading them."

"Oh! Cool! Little books are exactly what I need!"

"No, that's not what I... you know what? Never mind. I give up. What's your costume supposed to be?"

"I'm a nest," said the proud little fairy.

Mary cocked her head. "I still don't see it. A nest made of index cards maybe?"

"No! I'm a nest of quotes! Duh!"

Lucy waved to Mr. Adrianza as she walked past. He was always nice to her, even after cleaning up her… issues. Walking into Crystal Hall, she saw a girl looking around uncertainly. She walked over to the girl.

“Excuse me, are you lost?”, she asked in a friendly manner. The girl turned and looked at her. She was about Lucy’s height, with ice blue eyes, strawberry blonde hair up in a ponytail. She was slender, with slight curves. She had freckles and a tan. Lucy could tell it wasn’t one of those kind of tans one gets from idly laying about in the sun, no this was more like the hard working in the sun sort of tan.

She extended her hand to the girl. “Hi, they call me Host. I just got here a couple weeks ago, myself.”

The other girl took the offered and and shook it. “They call me Fidget.”

Lucy saw the usual gang filtering over to their first level seat. “Want to join my friends and I? we are about to have lunch together.”

Lucy led her over to the group’s table. One by one everyone filtered in, Backslide was first. Tanuki and Motherlode arrived shortly after.

Lucy stood up and introduced everyone to the new girl. Greetings were exchanged and then everyone sat down and small talk began.
eventually the subject turned to powers. after a recap of everyone’s powers, the new girl cleared her throat and fidgeted uncomfortably.

“My name is Jordan Owens. They… call me Fidget, I’m a Gadgeteer and an Exemplar.”, she said. “I grew up in Montana, on a sheep farm. My Great-Aunt and my Dad were there for me. When I manifested, Dad got scared. My mother had been killed by a mutant, and my big sister is a mutant. She graduated last year.”

After introductions and powers discussion, the group settled down and enjoyed lunch. The conversation lightened up, and turned to the usual things that teenage girls talk about, clothes, make-up, boys. By the time lunch was done, Everyone was laughing and enjoying themselves.

Concentrating as hard as he could, Joshua firmly bit into the burger his parents had picked up at some roadside restaurant. Gratefully he felt his teeth tear into the bun and meat. His stomach growled hungrily, and his parched mouth seemed to come alive as the condiments and juice of the meat brought him some much needed relief.
He saw his mother watching him, the look of fear and nervousness disappearing as she saw him chewing. His parents were already done their meals since it had taken him over twenty minutes to just pick up his burger.
Smiling with delight he swallowed the bite, and trying to keep his excitement at simply eating from making him lose control, he took another bite.
His moment of victory was destroyed as his father hit a pothole. Trying to remain in his seat while eating was too much and Josh found himself flying through the back of the car. He hit the road, which felt no harder than a waterbed and started rolling as cars drove through him.
As soon as he came to a stop, halfway through the hood of a truck, he jumped to his feet and ran as fast as he could towards his parents car. He didn't bother dodging the cars which had come to screeching halt, there wasn't any point as he passed through them with no more substance than a ghost.
Jumping through the back window, he grabbed the seat and willed himself to become a little harder. "Drive!" He shouted needlessly, his father was already pulling back onto the road, making the engine roar as they left before the police or MCO could be called in.

Staring at the fallen burger and the fries on the backseat, Josh forced himself to forget how hungry he was. He could eat later when they stopped.

Friday

For the third time this week, Jill Wilbur looked to the empty desk to her left, and hoped Madeline, the office gossip, was wrong. It was, like, super rare, but sometimes she got it wrong. Then Jill heard his voice and her heart sank.

"Good Morning Desiree! Morning Tom! Morning Hank. I got Sweetheart Donuts! Morning Jill!" J.D. Hassett passed by her desk with three boxes of donuts. The boxes were from Sweetheart Donuts, the really good donut place the next township over. Problem was, J.D. lived on the far side of this township. He never brought them in, but usually complained when people brought in donuts from national chains instead of Sweetheart's.

"Morning J.D." Jill replied automatically, noticing that his eyes lingered on the desk next to hers and a slight smug expression appeared at the middle of his lips. He tossed one box on the file cabinet outside her cubicle next to the Finance inbox and resumed his announcement as he barged down the aisle.

"Good Morning Adam! Got Sweetheart's! Morning Brendan! Rick...Good Morning..."

Jill swallowed hard and glanced back at Ernie's desk. He hadn't been seen since lunch on Tuesday. Rumors had flown he got picked up by the MCO. Jill had known. Ernie told her over IM a few months ago that he was a PK-1...but Jill didn't know what that had actually meant about him until she had looked it up late Wednesday at her apartment. Yesterday, the emails started swirling. Worst was the one from HR that Ernie's severance checks should be mailed to his emergency contact, his parents in Wisconsin. Jill had no idea how Hank, and by extension Madeline, had got ahold of that one. It had only been sent directly to her to process, nobody on Cc. Jill had hoped it was like a car accident or something.

She'd liked Ernie. He was quiet, sure. But he always helped her when she asked for it. Like the time she couldn't find that one pesky formatting error in her forecasting spreadsheet macro. The one she had to make from scratch because Sales didn't know their head from their asshole, and couldn't keep track of their travel hours if their jobs depended on it (it did, by the way). And Ernie had made the best banana bread.

But something had changed the last two months. Ernie had gotten irritable. Instead of being friendly with everyone nearby, talkative, he spent almost the entire day listening to music on his headphones. When she finally asked him over IM, Ernie admitted that he was pulling out the dental card from his wallet when J.D. had been nearby, complaining to Rick that he got screwed over by an injury or something. Some fantasy football nonsense instead of work as usual. But Ernie's MID had fallen out of his wallet onto his desk. He'd snapped it back up as quickly as possible, but he said he'd seen a cocky look from J.D. He'd seen it. They were pretty obvious from a glance, Jill admitted back. Depressed, Jill turned back to her financial estimates, hoping the focus would distract her. It didn't.

It was about two hours later that J.D. came back around, holding a cup of coffee, and a sprinkled donut. But he wasn't alone. Security had come with a copy paper box, and started packing up Ernie's personal things. "Doesn't it just feel...more productive around here, finally?" J.D. asked Desiree, "Like there's just less distractions around." The smug satisfaction on his face made her fume.

That was real rich coming from J.D. He spent half of each day badmouthing others and complaining about the work he had to do, and usually wasted all of Tuesday talking about fantasy football with Rick, and his jerk buddy Gavin from security.

Jill felt sick. Madeline had been right. It was last month that J.D.'s proposal to the Senior Managers hadn't gone so well. Of course he hadn't prepared at all, since he spent most of his week on fantasy football and blaming other people for his failings. Still, on the cost-estimate slide, there had been a pretty big error in his projections. Ernie had pointed it out, and Mr. Sykes from Purchasing confirmed it was off by a significant margin. But Ernie interjected that even with the error, J.D.'s overall assessment was correct. Madeline said that J.D. had ranted to Tracy for hours after that meeting.

Snapping back to the present, Jill just sheepishly smiled at J.D. He didn't hate mutants in particular, she knew that. Tracy, who worked a cube over from him, had said his laptop has a disgusting rotating set of backgrounds. They were like, "90 percent" paparazzi shots of heroines. Shots of Crucibelle's behind, Dr. Thunder in her form-fitting suit, a close of up Lioness' cleavage. But there was even a newer image from a perfume ad with a redhead who was clearly underage. It was just gross, Tracy had said.

Jill believed her.

As the guard, thankfully not J.D.'s friend Gavin, packed up the last of Ernie's things, Jill sighed deeply. Not even 10:30. She sighed again. Well, it wasn't the end of an accounting week. It would be okay. She just couldn't stand watching J.D. gloat a second longer. Jill fired off a quick email to her supervisor, and proceeded to make a show of it. She grimaced in front of J.D. and Desiree, placing a hand on her lower abdomen as she walked over to Madeline's cube.

"Maddy…do you have any heating pads?" she asked, fake cringing again. "I took some medicine, but it's just not helping today." Jill knew that Madeline never used heating pads, so there wasn't any risk of her actually being given one. Asking the office gossip ought to prevent any rumors that she was upset specifically because of Ernie, even if it was the truth.

"Sorry, Jill, I've never needed them for…that time." Lucky, Jill mused to herself. She faked another painful cramp, earning a look of sympathy from Madeline. "Geez, Jill, you should really take the day off if it's that bad. I could tell everyone you had a bad reaction to Indian food."

Oh God! She'd never live that down. "That's even worse Maddy!"

"Allergies?"

"Whatever. You can be honest with the girls. I already told Walter I wasn't feeling well today."

"Whatever you want darling…"

"Thanks."

Jill grabbed her purse while J.D. was still being a real asshole to Tom. "Headed home, Jilly? Donut for the road? They're Sweetheart's…just like you."

"No thanks. Diet."

"Your loss…"

Jill stormed out of the office and slumped back into her Nissan. A bottle of sauvignon blanc would go a long way to helping her forget this day. Maybe two. That, a hot bath, and a good cry.

"I hate these hick towns," Agent Jackson muttered as he drove over the cracked and pothole covered road.

"Why? I thought these little places were pretty good for dealing with mutants," Allen, his new partner and trainee said, looking eagerly out the window.

"Some of them are," Jackson admitted. "In a lot of them you can wave some money around and the people will tell you anything you want, half of it made up just so they can get more money. In others they're so terrified of mutants, our job is usually to collect a corpse. But then you've got a few where as long as the mutant is friendly and doesn't show off, they look at the MCO as outsiders going after one of their own. So mostly we either spend all of our money on a wild goose chase that pans out maybe thirty percent of the time, or we get told lies and never find the person we're looking for. And even then we still spend money on those lies because there's a chance they'll be true."

Allen didn't say anything but he got a really thoughtful look on his face as he scanned the town.

They pulled up to a restaurant and bar, the only place that had any activity in the late evening, and where they'd gotten a report of a mutant working as a waiter. Getting out Jackson made sure his sidearm was concealed but still easy to reach.

Stepping inside he saw a crowd of about twenty men near the bar, drinking their beers and jawing about sports. A few family's sat around the edge of the restaurant. They had a weatherbeaten look to most of them and their clothes were mostly jeans and plain t-shirts, which made Jackson and his partner stand out in their crisp suits.

All talking stopped and the bartender turned the music off before ducking back into the kitchen.

A big, bald man with a bit of a gut, stood up still holding his beer. "Gentlemen, are you looking for a drink?"

"No sir," Jackson said, trying to keep things nice and formal. He pulled out his badge and held it up for everyone to see. "We're with the MCO, we're here to speak to an unregistered mutant. Just a formality to make sure he isn't dangerous."

"And did you gentlemen happen to talk to the sheriff about this." the bald man asked.

"Since this isn't an official matter we thought it was best to keep this informal. It saves on paperwork and there's no reason to make this seem more serious than it is," Jackson lied. Once they had the mutant alone they could provoke him into doing something stupid and take it from their.

The man smirked. "I happen to know a thing or two about the MCO, and one thing is that you can't come waltzing into my town asking questions without the say so of the sheriff. And since I'm the sheriff and I would sooner ask a rattler for help, then call the MCO, I'd recommend you just get back in your car and drive away."

"That's not strictly true," Jackson started.

"It's true in this town and for about fifty miles in every direction. We all know how you made that girl over in East Carson disappear a while back. You aren't taking anymore of our children unless they've killed someone," the sheriff said.

"We are trying to keep people safe, just like you," Allen said.

The sheriff turned and walked to the bathroom. "Well then you'd best get to work," he said before disappearing.

Jackson grabbed his partners arm. " Let's go."

"But we can't just leave it like this," Allen insisted, not noticing the look of the crowd or how the families were making their children look away.

Jackson reached for his sidearm, "We're lea-"

He never got the chance to finish as the bar tender and the cook each broke a chair over his and his partners heads.

When they came to a few minutes later, sitting in their car, the sheriff was crouched down staring in the window. "Don't you gentlemen worry," he said cheerfully, "even though no one got a good look at your attackers, I'm going to question everyone to get to the bottom of this. But for your own safety I'd recommend leaving town. Don't worry I got all your information written down and can contact you whenever I want."

Rubbing his head, the concussion kept Jackson from saying anything, he simply nodded and fumbled with his keys to start the car. Ignoring the sheriffs happy wave of goodbye, Jackson hoped he'd be able to reach the nearest town where he and Allen could check into a hospital to deal with their injuries. The sheriff was right, waiting around in town for help would be a mistake.

"I hate these hick towns," he mumbled.