Question The Micro-Scenes thread

"That's it!" said Louis.

"You found it?" asked Nikki. "She's turning back on?"

Lucy snapped to attention and hummed a quick, cheerful melody before opening her eyes. She blinked twice and then spoke in a haunting voice. "You've got mail."

early December 2007, Hawthorne Cottage, Whateley Academy

It was that time of the AM when the East Coast residents of Canada, the U.S., and Brazil, along with the Aussies and Indonesians at lunch, and a few early risers in Europe and the Middle East tended to get a little froggy on IRC and other media. Paige, being on "kitten time" herself, was awake and dangerously bored. Why not check out some demotivationals to keep the Chaddie side of her entertained?

More specifically, it was a good time to see what the internet's grinches were cooking up to snark at Christmas. Somewhere along the intersection of stereotypes and grunt humor she found one that both sides of her could appreciate:

Rudolph the Danish Drill Sarge
Politely and helpfully explains why the recruit is getting coal every Christmas
until he UN-fucks his worthless self

Sure enough, it was a picture of an American JROTC grunt "assuming the position", while another cadet - wearing an unmistakable Dannebrog patch - was crouched down in front of him, almost antler to nose, "helpfully explaining" something to the other.

Sadly, it only took milliseconds to ask herself where one could find a multinational JROTC program that accepted visible mutants. A few quick searches told her that she wasn't the only one asking that question. She put together an email for her advisor, throwing in some relevant stats on what was about to go viral in central and western Europe. Then, like a good kitten, she yawned, stretched and went back to sleep. Mischief accomplished.

---

Assistant Headmistress Amelia Hartford frowned at the baby alligator hatching in her inbox. Either one of the cadets was stupidly getting even with the two shown, or someone pulled surveillance footage from Security, probably a freshman who didn't realize the stupidity of drawing Gunnery Sergeant Bardue's or Admiral Everheart's (or HER) attention this close to Combat Finals. She sent out the necessary information before turning to all the other idiocies waiting to waste her boss' time.

---

Some alligators end up making good running backs. Liz Carson had barely had time to set her coffee down before an incoming call was put through. 'I wonder who did what this time? Maybe Kayda and Elaine have been too quiet of late.' Once Mrs. Claire explained who was calling, Carson could rule out those two trouble magnets out of a couple hundred running around campus.

"This is Elizabeth Carson. What can I do for you, Johan?"

"Something has publicly come up regarding one of our students that we think needs to be addressed. Perhaps sooner would be better, but we don't want to give the wrong impression either."

"Could you fill me in more on the details? We are a number of hours behind you."

"It appears that a video clip filmed at your school has been repackaged into a number of 'meme' postings on social media."

It was far too early in the morning for this. Liz called up her own email to see if this was being handled yet. Good. And bad.

"My staff is looking into how the photo got out. What's the fallout there?"

"Interesting. Mixed. Publicly 'outing' a minor like this, with what some would consider a deformity, is offensive to most civilized people. Not everyone is civilized, including a certain international organization's supporters. We'd hoped for a less drastic introduction without giving the appearance we were ashamed of the boy."

"I believe I'd discussed that with your supervisor before. Has anything changed?"

"In the leading graphic, our cadet does appear to be being polite and helpful as a teammate should be, even when discipline is required. If the commentary wasn't insulting, it would almost be suitable for recruiting. Also, for an 'Evil Mutant'? He looks more like the bullied Rudolph the Reindeer. My youngest daughter thinks he's adorable."

"So, so far so good. But later? Will he still be allowed to visit his family over the break?"

"Of course. We just have to convince our people that we were protecting his personal privacy - which just became more difficult in the face of this exposure." There was a long pause before Pederson continued. "We know your institution requires discretion and privacy just to exist, but could you see your way clear to authorize a press package of suitable photos showing the count interacting with other students, er, normally?"

"You want him in front of a camera?"

"Yes. As himself, but perhaps some photos with whatever seeming he uses when that's needed as well."

Though her caller couldn't see it, he could hear the educator's smile in her voice."Please give me a few days at least, with finals coming up. Then let's see what happens."

---

Metro was feeling very confused by the call from Admin. "I'm sorry. I didn't quite catch that. It sounded like I'm needing to be photographed? Professionally? No disrespect intended, but are you sure you have the right person? The one with antlers. ASAP. Does this count against my assigned detention? Hello? Hello?"

Sam Everheart walked into the control room, and was greeted by the sight of Gunny Bardue rubbing his fingers against his temples. Clearly something was going on, and it wasn't good.

"Hey Gunny, what's up?", Sam inquired to the large man behind the monitor station.

"Just your typical, everyday Whateley clusterfuck...", came the gruff reply from the man seated at the status monitors.

Everheart looked at the monitors, noting everything happening. The Rejects versus Handmaiden's Chosen, in some sort of forest. An interesting match, one that seemingly would be fairly balanced. And yet it seemed that things were going off the rails. Sam's attention focused on one monitor, Displaying Tanuki curled up in the fetal position, crying next to her sim pod.

"What happened with Tanuki?", she inquired as she watched the girl having a breakdown.

"Darndest thing, She actually had Gateway on the ropes, when Gateway got in close enough to kick her. At that point she disconnected from the simulation, crawled out of the apparatus, and then curled up in a ball, crying hysterically."

Sam reviewed the footage of the two girls fighting, and observed the camera angle it was taken from. Looking over Tanuki's shoulder from behind, she observed the two mages get close, and then watched Tanuki crumple up. The blow was obscured by her body, but Sam could extrapolate what had happened.

Sam seemingly stared into space, a look that Bardue recognized as her accessing date through her nano-tech collective. "Oh no... these poor kids, it never gets any easier for them."

Bardue looked at the young woman before him, it was almost easy to forget that this was a grizzled war veteran. He tilted his head in confusion.

Sam picked up the gesture, and its meaning. "Tanuki is in Poe because her spirit caused her to undergo a partial gender change. Her file is flagged for severe depression and self-loathing. The camera angle obscures the blow, but... If I had to venture a guess, I would say that we have a girl that considers herself a heterosexual female getting a cruel reminder otherwise, in the form of a kick to the groin. I've sent a priority alert to Dr. Bellows, he should be here shortly."

Bardue cursed and shook his head. "Damn, I missed that. I must be slipping."

Sam looked up and saw the next incident unfolding. The psychiatric staff would be busy after this run. She looked at the monitor. Bladedancer had Motherload backed against a tree. The taller girl's protective garments were in tatters. She was slumped against a tree, sitting. Her arms were outstretched, warding off Chao.

"Shit! Gunny! Pull Motherload out, NOW! We have another melt-down about to happen!" Sam looked at the masked girl, her chalky white skin visible through the multiple tears and tatters of her costume. Gunny reached over and flicked a switch, Motherload disappeared from the combat monitor, and a second monitor, one showing her sim-chamber flared to life. Sam watched as the girl tore the connections free from her, and began punching the walls. while screaming an inhuman wail.

Looking back at the monitors, Bardue noted with some satisfaction that Bellows had arrived, and was hugging Tanuki, while talking to her. He made sure that sound recording was off in the chamber.

Sam placed another call to Doyle, requesting additional psychiatric assistance, this time for Motherload. It was a sad fact that due to her powers, the girl needed to wear that full body containment suit. The fact that Bladedancer had cut it to ribbons in the sim had caused her to panic.

Sam looked at the monitors, looking for other potential issues, Chained Lightning was down, having the misfortune of running into Backslide, his own weapon thrust back at himself violently by her repulsive ability. Fidget had climbed a tree, and was preparing to ambush Gateway and Geomancer with some sort of energy rifle.

Bardue sighed and abruptly ended the combat sim. There had been too much collateral damage to the Rejects collective psyche after the brutal attack on Host, and the abduction of Tapeworm. With the incidents today, he did not want to be the result of another team implosion. Safeguards were enacted after the disaster with Wondercute and Star League Junior, but those were hardly fool-proof.

Everheart sent word to the members of the Rejects that they had been excused from de-briefing, and that they should take the rest of the day off from class and just be there for each other. Bardue went to debrief Handmaiden's Chosen, after which he would take the rest of the day off and maybe get a drink or ten.

It had been raining hard the past couple days, but that didn't matter much to the woman on the park bench. She sat and the rain simply obeyed her, redirecting around her. She was new to the staff, having arrived just prior to the beginning of the semester. She didn't mind the rain. Fall was very similar in New Hampshire to what she had been accustomed to in Minnesota. The leaves were falling, and the brilliant reds and yellows and browns were ever so slightly past peak.

There weren't many students out, most had taken to using the tunnels due to the rains. She was amused though to see what looked like a velociraptor, straight out of Jurassic Park. The unusual thing about it? It was wearing a bright yellow rain poncho and matching rain hat. She saw the UV band on it's arm. Her interest piqued, she observed the predatory look of the student, as it crouched in an ambush position. How a raptor-like UV in bright yellow could go unnoticed was a testament to the nature of the school.

The predator hunched down, partially obscured amongst the leaves and branches of a small shrubbery.
A few minutes later, the teacher observed another student walking along the path. This one was looking down at a cellphone, but she recognized the other ultra-violent list member. He was fairly short, the long duster jacket he was wearing covered his body, though she was sure he was armed. The boy's skin was pale, and slightly clammy looking.. his blond hair was wet, and limp, leaving the small horns protruding from his scalp that much more noticeable. He was approaching the ambush spot.

Tensing, the teacher was prepared to leap into action, should the obviously carnivorous student try anything. Closing the distance between them, she saw him spring into action and he pounced... splashing the other boy by landing in a rather large puddle. By the look on the very wet student's face, there was something of a history between these two, she would have to research it further. Clearly upset, Metro reached into his duster and pulled out something... it was bright yellow. It could be a gun, it could be an explosive, it could be... it was a duck. A rubber duck. Squeezing the duck, Metro yelled out a battle cry and charged his scaly adversary. Confusion crossed the face of the observer, as she saw one Ultra violent chase another around the Quad, squeaking a rubber duck at him.

Shaking her head, Renata Hughes sighed and picked up her lunch bag, thrilled that she had dodged a bullet when Metro had declined joining her underwater basket-weaving class.

Andrea Theodora Krets was fuming over her idiot kid sister, Julie, again. It was bad enough that she was in the same cottage (though for a different reason), and that Julie chosen a codename that mimicked - and mocked - her own; now she was giving her shit for the Underwater Basketweaving class.

She couldn't help it if she liked swimming! Jeez, it was her senior year; she'd earned a little relaxation! But noooo, Shove had to be a bitch to Grabby, the one student in the class Push had befriended. That little...

I oughta 'push' her into French-kissing some guy, thought the part of her that was still Ted. Maybe Stoner. That would serve her right.

Friday 5th November 2010, Hyde park, London

“Now Ladies and Gentlemen, can we get a big countdown for the start?”

Phoebe looked over the field, at all the faces of, well, at least some had looks of adoration. Mostly the children, though a few of the adults weren't sneering at her. Mostly the younger ones, she thought, though the hats and scarves made it difficult to tell for some of them. She glanced to her left and her right, and looked at the SCO19 officers that were guarding her. Some of them, the ones with more armour, had bright high-visibility vests on. The rest were in dark camuflage, and would be almost entirely impossible to see until the events began. She didn't even bother to look behind her, where she knew that two meters away, the most brightly visible one had a Glock 26 handgun aimed at the back of her head.

She knew that it had, like, four different safeties and that nobody, not even the mid-thirties, slightly balding but ruggedly handsome guy holding the gun that she'd spent the afternoon drinking milkshakes with, actually expected it to need firing. It was there as a visual deterrent to any of the more... shall we say, “human-safe” members of the crowd, worrying because of her presence and taking any ill-advised actions. All five-foot-two, barely seven stone Japanese-British barely-older-than-a-schoolgirl presence.

That's “human-safe” as in “making the place safe for normal humans, and fuck people like Phoebe.” She almost sighed. Here she was, being paid ten big ones just to do half an hours work, all in a nice, safe, legal capacity. That would show her as being safe. She didn't even leave any waste, unlike the normal baseline approach to this. It could have been more money, she guessed, but even the fifteen grand she got last year was cheaper for the council than using normal fireworks. Now, if only the world wasn't so racist that she needed, or rather the various city councils needed, to have members of the goddamn London Met firearm police officers come guard her from the dregs of society. And of course, to guard the "poor, innocent, helpless, twenty-thousand-in-number" crowd against “a potential terrorist in the making”, according to last years stupid goddamn Daily Mail, who could "have used her position to attack any number of British landmarks."

It had almost been worth the libel and slander court case victory that she'd got over that. She'd gotten a nice sum of money for it, but it didn't make up for the aggravation. The abuse. The insult. It'd taken them over four months to pony up the damages she'd occurred over it, and she'd needed to move house twice because racist dicks were harassing her. She'd had to leave a fairly cushy job in a pretty nice multi-national because now people outside of the bosses and HR knew about her, and even though it hadn't affected her workability, it had started rumours. She decided it was better to move rather than be fired. It hadn't taken her long to find another accountancy job, since she had originally had all her degrees put into her codename, and she'd done the stupid paperwork for her legal name change to be made into “Phoebe Hanabi” two days after the stupid tabloid came out.

She'd walked into her new office in Kent, with her MID pinned to the underneath of her company ID badge. Let them know, she thought. Let them know from the start and maybe she could make it not a big deal.

What did the ability to throw fire around matter to an accountant, anyway? Okay, the exemplar helped her with the numbers, but being able to shoot fireworks out of your hands has really, really limited job prospects outside of military work. But every big company needed an accountancy department.

The crowd began their count down from ten. Or at least most did. Some of them just stared at her. Fine. Let them stare. She tracked the crowd for Ayaka, finding her standing with some of the marshals at the music booth. Just as the chant reached “three” and she needed to raise her arms to begin, Ayaka raised her own hands to her lips and blew an air-kiss to her. The sheer thrill of just seeing her lovely wife do such a simple, girly gesture sent her heart all aflutter again, just like it had the first time she'd seen her, back in Fresher's week for her first year. At the University's Asian society, or more accurately, two days later at the University's LGBT society.

She'd intended to start off small, maybe some of the little firecrackers, some of the glitter-palms or the wagon wheels.

Nobody in the crowd seemed to mind that she led off with two Brocades and a Shell-of-shells, all in glittery pinks and white.

Nobody seemed to mind at all, that with every sneak peak at her beloved, more and more of the planned small fireworks got replaced by much, much bigger ones.

Just because it was a nice, safe, legal job for a mutant pyrokinetic-manifestor, didn't mean it couldn't be fun after all. And the chance to actually let go for at least once a year, hmm. Oh yeah! She had a feeling that when they got home and she put on her special gloves, Ayaka was going to be spending the rest of the night finding out just how long an exemplar could really, really last!

As Wanda stepped off of the military transport, she was saw a man in a dun bodysuit and stereotypical bush hat, and a tall woman with in a matching costume; both were in their late twenties. While she couldn't see he feet, as she was on the other side of the car they were stepping out if, she was petty sure it was Toison, whom she'd met briefly a few weeks earlier when at Liberty Island, when she came to interview her about her cross-internship.

"Hey, Chiton, good to meet you," said the man in a distinct Australian accent - which was hardly surprising, here. "I'm Reinforce, as I'm sure you know. Once we get your bags in, we can get you over with the Rangers' quarters to let you settle in, all right?"

Toison picked up the conversation then. "We'll get you introduced to the rest of our team in a little while, but some of them are a bit busy right now. It seems the latest idiot calling himself the Iron Bandit tried to hit a bank in town. Ordinarily this guy's not been much of threat, but he's a Dricker, and this time he's got a bunch of hostages and keeps making crazy demands. As it happens, though, Froggy - you know, Blair, no wait, Baird Frobisher, the BBC announcer guy? - he was in Darwin for something and agreed to come and act as a negotiator." Wanda nodded; the famed voice actor had done that sort of help for the authorities in Britain before, his way with words was almost magically soothing.

As Reinforce got behind the wheel, he added, "We should probably get you sorted in your apartment rather than throwing you in the deep end right off. I know you've got some experience from your work with the Liberty League, but you don't know the place and we need to get your paperwork straight first anyway."

Thunder Bay, Ontario

Heather swore softly to herself as a hairpin poked into her scalp and swiped at her blonde wigs long bangs that insisted on escaping her mask. How had she agreed to do this stupid job, she wondered to herself, the extra money wasn't worth the three or four months it would take to complete. It wasn't like she was broke or lived lavishly after all.

Before her silent rant could really get going her earpiece buzzed. “Attention all units, we have an X-132 in progress at TD Bank, 874 Ontario, St.”

Hitting a button on her waist, Heather waited a moment for her power frame to go from idle to full power, and checked to ensure her disguise, half Hollywood makeup and half magical was intact. For the first time since going out on patrol she smiled at the thought of having some fun, some supernatural person was robbing a bank and that would be interesting to deal with. As the computer dinged, informing her that it was ready to go, she took off running along the rooftop easily jumping across the street to land on another roof. It wasn't as fulfilling as her usual flying, but roof hopping was nothing to sneeze at, and it was a lot better than walking or driving in a car.

The goggles she wore to protect her eyes, also had a small computer screen with a GPS which led her unerringly to the location. She'd studied the street maps and done a few rounds of the city in the last week, but she still didn't know it well enough to get around easily, especially when she wasn't at street level. She heard a few people, mostly kids, shouting as she sailed through the air. Another problem with running she couldn't wave at the crowds below like she usually did. She promised herself that after her shift was done, she'd go for a fly without the bulky power frame, wig or anything except her street clothes and a mask.

Being able to run as fast as a horse at full gallop, and traveling as the crow flies, Heather made it to the bank before most of the back up.

“Look, it's Lady Fist!” a boy called out from behind the barriers.

It took Heather a moment to remember that was her, she gave a blinding smile and waved at the boy as she walked towards the officer in charge. That was another thing she wasn't used to, usually she'd slip in quietly and deal with the problem before they knew she was there. But that wasn't Lady Fist's style, or considering her large size, within her abilities.

“What's the situation?” she asked the officer who was in on the disguise.

“We have a guy who looks like a bull crossed with a tractor trailer who is busy trying to break through a vault door. From witness reports and a drone we got in the ventilation system everyone has either gotten out or is in hiding,” he told her.

“Well that's something positive at least. Any idea how strong the bull is?”

“Nothing conclusive, but after 3 minutes he's almost broken the vault door in half, it was barely hanging on a minute ago.”

“Joy,” she replied, struggling to keep the smile on her face.

Leaning in close, the officer whispered, “Are you sure you can handle him? He'd be a struggle for... you know.”

“Let's go find out, shall we,” she answered more confidently than she felt

Striding into the bank she took a moment as soon as she was out of sight to power her frame up to the maximum level. Even with the devisor batteries it would run out of juice in fifteen minutes of heavy use, her own powers could give it another five before they blew out the fuses, her electricity wasn't exactly made for controlled long term use. Despite that limitation the power frame would at least let her match the real Lady Fists full strength while it lasted.

It wasn't hard to find her way down to the vault, just follow the smashed doorways. The old saying about a bull in a china shop ran through her mind, and she very much wished she was able to do her usual sniping attack when dealing with overpowered bricks. She had the training to go hand to hand, but it was not something she enjoyed. Unfortunately Lady Fist was a boxer at heart, so she had to be one to.

Damn her luck.

A deep laugh echoed from the vault. Looking at the vault door which had effectively been folded in two and thrown through a nearby wall made Heather gasp.

“This is going to suck so much,” she said to herself.

Taking three balls from her belt pouch, Heather didn't warn the criminal that she was there or demand he surrender like she should have. The massive furry back of the mutant was the size of a small car, and just one of his arms had to weigh twice as much as she did outside of her power frame. Throwing the grenades at his feet she ducked down instinctively as they exploded.

The roar of the grenades was slightly louder than the bellow of rage from the bull. Racing into the vault she landed on top of the staggered criminal and punched him as hard as she could on the temple, hoping to knock him out, even as her knee into his spine

Despite the metal and padding around her dainty hands, she felt her knuckles bruise under the impact.

The bull grunted, spinning impossibly fast to face her his misshapen face twisting into a grin. She punched him again, right on the chin making him wobble a little. He spit a stream of blood into her face, grabbed her by the back of her head shoving her downwards as her power frame shrieked in protest and kneed her stomach.

Shaken and barely able to breathe, Heather used her real powers and flew backwards a split second before the bull could take her head off with a punch that shattered the vault wall. She landed on her feet, ignoring the warning symbols on her googles, and threw her last two grenades into the vault. The blasts cut into the legs of the bull but they looked to be superficial at best, she followed them up with several smoke bombs that should at least give her an edge as her lenses went to heat vision.

With smoke filling the air, Heather felt more confident in using her real powers. Floating on her stomach just inches off the ground she silently charged the bull, waiting until the last possible moment to punch it as hard as she could in the ankle. The bellow of pain let her know she had finally hurt the massive slab of beef.

Unfortunately her goggles flared, letting her know she had broken the gauntlet of her power frame.

She twisted onto her back and brought her legs up to her chest to avoid getting stomped and then drove both feet into the bulls hip. She thought she felt a snap, but wasn't about to trust what might only be wishful thinking. Dodging to the side, she was still stunned when the bulls flailing hand caught her temple.

Heather found herself grappling with the bull who somehow, despite falling, in pain and being blinded by the smoke, had latched onto her. The buzzing in her ear told her the power frame was taking catastrophic damage as it dug fingers tipped with hoof like nails into her side and shoulder. Slivers of metal were actually piercing her skin as it crumpled.

With her fists beating as hard as she could against the bulls hide, she realized she didn't have the strength to beat the thing. With it's hot breath against her face, she did the exact thing she'd been told not to do and unleashed all her powers.

Electricity ripped through her power frame shorting it out and surged onwards into the bull. He spasmed uncontrollably as if he'd touched a live wire, which was basically exactly what had happened. She screamed as the convulsions caused the bull to shatter the shoulder of her power frame completely, possibly breaking her collar bone, but with another surge of power she sent him flying into the wall.

The power frame was dead, and she found it almost impossible to move in the bulky thing that now encased her. Floating to her feet, she grabbed something at random from her belt and with great difficulty pointed it at the bull who was smoking and scorched but still capable of movement. She let lose another bolt of energy making it seem like the object was some kind of weapon.

It took five blasts, each one strong enough to drop an elephant to knock the bull out.

Whispering into the throat mic, which was specially made for her regular costume to withstand her electrical blasts, she called the police in, telling them to bring the heaviest restraints they had. And a blanket.

Twenty minutes later Heather came out of the bank, surrounded by SWAT members so that no one could see she was actually floating instead of walking. Reporters shouted questions, but with the blanket thrown over her shoulders and her very limited mobility told them all they needed to know, Lady Fist had won a hard fight and now needed a chance to recover.

No one would know it had actually been Heather who had won, and Lady Fist's secret would be safe for another day. If the bull said anything about electricity, everyone would simply believe it had been a devise, and that would be the end of it.

Several hours later

“I hate your fighting style,” Heather said, gingerly rubbing her arm which was securely wrapped in the sling. Her collarbone hadn't been broken, but there was a spectacular bruise which made movement, any movement painful. The rest of her body wasn't much better.

The real Lady Fist smiled down at her tiny temporary replacement. “You have to admit getting into the thick of things is more fun than ducking and weaving all the time.”

“Some of us don't have regeneration,” she retorted glaring up at the woman who was well over a head taller than she was. “And unlike you, I'm sane.”

“Tell you what,” Lady Fist said, “If you and your boyfriend ever decide to have a baby, I'll fill in for you. I'm sure we can find some illusion to make me look like a little person.”

Normally that would have resulted in a zap hard enough even for the brick to feel, but seeing the slightly swelling stomach of her friend, Heather instead resorted to punching her in the arm, which just made her hiss in pain as her bruised knuckles began to ache even more. “I'm five feet tall, that is normal for a woman. You're the only weirdo here.”

Lady Fist snorted. “Five feet in heels maybe.”

“After you give birth I'm going to beat your ass so badly,” Heather threatened.

“Promises, promises.”

November 3, 2016

Darcy Gleason sat on a bench in the Quad, trying to wrangle Fran's hair into a bun with a crown braid. It frustrated her to no end that she hadn't been able to convince Fran to go natural on the trip to Boston. Fran had like…the best hair for an afro. It was naturally dense, with the right amount of moisture, and it would really flatter her cheekbones and round face. But years ago, somebody back in St. Louis had convinced Fran that her forehead was too big and that she needed to hide it with bangs. It definitely wasn't.

This bun would be the first part of Darcy's master plan of deprogramming Fran and getting her to embrace her beautiful hair. Fran's poor hair just felt…off. The amount of relaxer that Fran put on her hair was causing so many more split ends and breaks than there should be. Fran had excellent creamy dark brown skin, but her straightened hair cried out in agony in Darcy's practiced hands.

She knew this was her true purpose at Whateley this year. Get Fran to embrace her heritage and take on a beautiful blocky afro. The crown braid and bun would stop Fran from using her bangs to hide her forehead, and she'd hopefully begin to realize that her face was well shaped for hairstyles that didn't hide it. Darcy hid her smirk as best she could, which was not very well.

A teacher crossing between buildings headed towards her, ready to reprimand Darcy for practicing cosmetology in New Hampshire without a license, yet again. But there was absolutely nothing wrong with a girl braiding a friend's hair. It was perfectly ordinary. Darcy waited until the teacher went on her way, then stuck her tongue out at the teacher's back. She'd cleaned more than enough toilets this semester!

Darcy continued styling Fran's hair in the chilly air, when two boys, probably from Emerson, though one of them might have been from Poe, circled each other before standing about 20 feet from one another. Darcy heard Fran inhale deeply from her nose before sighing.

"What's going on?" Darcy asked.

"Another Harry Potter duel, between two morons. Just ignore them," Fran said flatly.

Distractions aside, Darcy continued braiding Fran's hair so she could wrap it around the lazy bun that would be the centerpiece of Fran's hair. The two boys fired spell after spell at each other, though Darcy noticed that a few of the deflections were getting concerningly close to other students using the Quad.

It was weird, but Darcy was honestly getting used to weird since she'd come to Whateley. The two boys continued throwing random spells at each other, but behind her, Darcy noticed a soft whispery chanting. She started to wrap the braid around Fran's bun as two identical girls entered her vision. Shoulder length blond hair, highlights and appropriate lowlights even! And by identical, Darcy meant identical.

The twin girls were chanting some language that Darcy didn't remotely know, but she noticed that that the two Harry Potter boys weren't nearly as effective toward each other as they seemed to think. In fact, they were actually slowing down, their movements sluggish, their spells halted. The mirrored girls walked up to the two boys and whispered into their ears in tandem. The two boys froze, paralyzed. The blonds in polos shifted to the side and clapped their hands, and the two boys fell to the ground unconscious.

Darcy tucked the end of Fran's braid into the bun, completing the look she was going for.

Security arrived and loaded the two boys onto spine boards as Darcy and Fran headed to their respective classes. Darcy knew one thing for sure: Never cross the Security Auxiliaries. At least this year.

Glaring at the bald student in front of her, Headmistress Carson waited just long enough to get him squirming before she spoke. "Do you know why you're here, Mr. Martin?"

"I'm not entirely sure," the boy responded, his voice tight.

"I realize that devisors and gadgeteers will prank each other, they are generally they are wise enough to keep it to the tunnels and ensure it doesn't get out of control. You on the other hand escalated your dispute with Tech-Magic and put other students in danger."

The boy jerked upright. "Impossible! The head lice I made wouldn't do more than make a person extra itchy and they're infertile, they couldn't go past her and maybe her roommate or a few friends."

Headmistress Carson turned her attention to shoe box size box on her desk. Taking the lid off she asked, "Then how do you explain this?"

Looking down, the boys eyes widened in horror. An enormous version of his head lice easily as large as both his hands was very, very dead with a knitting needle through it's abdomen.

"Dickinson has been evacuated and we are exterminating several hundreds of these creatures as we speak. If you don't want to be doing sewer duty until you graduate, you had better have some means to ensure these creations of yours are completely eradicated."

"Give me an hour," he said. Not waiting for her leave, he was out the door a moment later at a run. He didn't care so much about the detention, he could handle that. The problem was if he didn't fix his mistake there was no chance he'd ever get a date again.

Tuesday 13th November 2007, Dickinson Cottage

“Okay, so I play a forest, and tap these ones in order to play Wild-spirit Elf, who has haste, so I attack with him and my Treant, which since you're all tapped out, mean they do six damage to you?”

As the short blonde girl shook her head, the dice representing her 'life' picked themselves up, rotated, and set themselves down showing just a single point left. Then a card rose from the top of her deck, rising to meet the ones in front of her face. One lowered itself to join the others in front of her, and she smiled. As she spoke, several of those cards rotated around.

“Since you tapped yourself as well, I attack with my werewolf and both my vampires, and unless your green-mana ass somehow has a spell you can stop it with, they deal thirteen damage, killing you. Hah! I win again!”

“Awww man, I thought I had you that time!” the redhead whined. “Best three out of five?”

“No way. Deal was best out of three. That's another ice cream you owe me, Brit.”

“Awww. Leanna's gonna have a fit over my pocket-money spending as it is. Says I should be more responsible with it all.” She said the second sentence with a decidedly mocking expression, shaking her head left and right in an off-balance rotation. “Okay Kelly, but can we go get Aunt Sarah or Miki? They always need more ice-creams. Or... we could hunt down Aunt Murphy?”

“As much as I love spending time with Murphy, no way. She'll get everyone involved again, and you know how much Gene turns into a jerk around her. And Team Awesome will be totally in their own worlds again. Which Sarah, my countryman or your's?”

“Mine.”

“...Okay. But only if she's in a good mood. I know, I know, but sorry, I just don't have the patience for it.” The two junior high girls picked up the various accoutrements of their Magic the Gathering^tm game, putting them away with their actual hands instead of their imaginary ones, and left their room on the ground floor of Dickinson, both of them pausing before the stairs to begin levitating up to the first floor without touching the ground. Several freshman sneered at them as they settled down and obeyed normal gravity rules again, their telekinetic abilities ceasing.

They opened the door to the door belonging to Ceilidh's countrymen without knocking, to find the occupants involved in a close hug, multiple forms of knitting, crochet, and needlepoint strewn around the room. Seeing the magician-avatar-energiser notice them and attempt to mouth something, they retreated, and speed off to tell either Althea or Basimuh what they saw, before heading over to Whitman college to collect their cat-eared, nosed, clawed and tailed friend.

Life was always better with ice-cream and a Japanese cat-girl at least.

Halifax, Nova Scotia February 2007
10pm

Chris walked around to the back of the convenience store and saw his target. "Hey, you're Rodger right?"

The older teen looked around, his eyes seeming to take in everything at a glance. "Yeah, do I know you?"

"You sold some stuff to my friend Mike last week. We need to talk." Even though he was only fifteen, Chris carried himself like he expected the teen to sit there and take it.

"Listen kid," Rodger sneered, "I don't know what you're talking about. I don't sell anything to anyone and I never heard of your friend. Get back home to your mommy before I get annoyed.

"Mike took your fucking drugs and ended up in the hospital, asshole. You and I are going to talk and if I hear you're selling anything to my friend again we're going to have a serious problem."

"Fuck you, kid. You want to have a go at me, you're going to end up in the hospital."

There wasn't the usual posturing or threats Rodger was used to, one second Chris was glaring at him and making threats, the next a fist was flying at his head. It was so surprising that the punch actually connected with the drug dealers cheek sending him spinning as his mouth filled with blood and he felt teeth crack.

Grinning, Chris took a moment to put on a pair of brass knuckles and moved in to emphasize his displeasure at what happened to his friend. His punch stopped six inches from the guys face as pain lanced through his arm and the brass knuckles burned. Screaming in pain he jerked back flinging the knuckles away and trying to work some feeling back into his arm.

Rodger wiped blood away from his mouth, little arcs of light flew off of his skin. "You little shit. I'm going to make you scream for that."

Chris ducked the first hit, but with his left arm useless and still sending bolts of pain through his body he couldn't fight properly. A glancing blow to his ribs felt like a red hot steel spike had gone straight through him. A snap kick had him swearing that his shin was broken even as he fell and his face impacted the pavement hard enough to make him blackout for a second.

Hands gripped the back of his coat and he shrieked as it felt like his skin was peeled away. He was thrown into the side of the building landing in a pile of scrapped wooden pallets. He couldn't see through the red that covered his eyes, his hand scrabbled for something, anything he could use.

"Had enough yet?" Rodger asked.

Chris flopped onto his back, blinking hard to see the mutant coming towards him.

"You know I'm a mutant now, I guess I'm going to have to kill you so you don't tell Sabawaelnu or the MCO about me," Rodger said, his tone almost conversational.

Chris watched the mutant come. As the hands reached for his head the lights blazing intensely, he knocked the mutants arms out of the way with his still aching left arm screaming as the pain flared up again. With his right, he swung a splintered board into the side of the mutants neck, throwing his entire body into the blow.

Rodger dropped clutching his neck groaning and barely holding onto conscious.

Chris staggered to his feet using the board as a crutch. "Y-you think I'll call in that bitch Sabawaelnu for this. Fuck her and fuck you." Raising his impromptu weapon Chris brought it down on Rodger's knee. "I'll deal with you myself. If I see your face here again, I'll make they never find your body."

The board came down again on the mutants knee. There was a crack as the wood and the bone both broke. Dropping the wood, Chris forced himself into a jog despite the agonizing protests of his body. Getting caught anywhere near the scene would be disastrous.

Pulling out his phone he hit speed dial for his girlfriend. He needed somewhere to lie low for the night, if his mother saw what he looked like she'd kill him.

4:13am, Tuesday 6th November, 2007, Dickinson cottage

As Sarah drowsily opened her eyes, it took a while for her brain to interpret what she was seeing.Someone had changed her out of the clothes she was last wearing and put her into her dressing gown, and to bed. Danielle was softly snoring across the room, but it was still dark out. She got out of bed and sleepily walked down to use the bathroom. Nobody else seemed to be awake, for a blessing. It meant that nobody was there who knew. Or who saw. A brief panic rose up in her, about the previous night. But she couldn't remember anything other than passing into sleep while being hugged by the mini-rager.

She was completely alone for a while, thankfully, or so she thought. She had gotten half-way to her room when a voice called out;

“You're not, like, supposed to be, like, alone, right?” She turned and saw Schwarzschild hanging out the door of the study hall, a college level astrophysics book in her hand. What the hell was she doing with a college level astrophysics book? She regularly gave the impression she could barely read at all, let alone something that heavy!

“Um... yeah, but I woke up needing the toilet. I can go to the bathroom myself, you know.” She flushed with anger. Great. One bad day, and now everyone was treating her like a fucking invalid. Fuck this bitch.

“Like, I know? But the little kid said you fell asleep like, at half eight? I helped Danielle like, brush your teeth for you? Well, no. The kid did that. She was really good at it too, since she said that she learned how to do it for like, coma patients back across the pond? Which is weird, cause she's so young, you wouldn't think they'd let her do, like, stuff like that? But you know, like, if you can't get back to sleep, you can like, come talk with me? Please? I have to read this big book for Quintain before, like, tomorrow, and I totally, completely just don't get any of like, it?”

Sarah considered. On the one hand, the Californian certainly either played on, or was completely true to the stereotype that 'Clueless' had given for girls from the Valley. It was annoying as shit to listen to. But on the other hand, Penny was one of the nicer girls in this fucking shite place. Where some of the others would have been bitchy, Penny either didn't have the inclination, or the brains, to be a cunt about things.

“Fine. Pass it here.” She took the book, and they settled down on the sofa. The section was about black holes, talking about how things couldn't escape from them, not even light. Why the hell was she reading about this crap? Then she saw it on the opposite page, the “Schwarzschild radius” was, as far as she could understand from the text, the edge of the black hole's size, the point of space that defined how big a black hole was. Maybe. She thought. Not really. She didn't know, and Penny was sitting there looking expectantly at her for an answer. Fuck! Well, it wasn't like she was a fucking astrophysicist either, she was in goddamn fucking remedial shitting maths, for fuck's sake!

Well, at least that answered why a Californian gravity warper had some weird German word for a codename at least. She blanked, and tried to wrack her brains for something to stall with, since she fucking well didn't know some weird esoteric bollocking physics crap!

“Um... Penny, shouldn't you have been getting some sleep? What time is it anyway?”

If it was even possible, Penny seemed to become even more chipper. Fucking happy bitch.

“Oh no, like, I knew that I'd have trouble getting, like, this stuff? So I like, made a hole to my pocket dimension and slept there, like, earlier? Besides, the professor wanted me to test out how time flows in my world, so I like, had to take this weird machine there, and it has like, tones and tones of like, sensory thinggies. But if I read it right, time goes slower there, or time goes faster here, or something? So I can like, get eight hours sleep in just eight minutes, and I won't even grow old, like, prematurely or anything?”

Great, now if only the stupidly happy bitch could grow up and talk without using the word 'like' as if it were punctuation, or end every single fucking sentence as if it were a question, that'd be great....

Several days had passed, and Fubar had maintained his intense probing. Off in the far corner of the room Fey say in a chair, asleep. Miranda would be back after she woke up. She had fallen asleep in the room on a few occasions over that week, having been carried back to her dorm by Eldritch. Dale was away, attending to her duties as a member of the security auxiliary. Louis worked intently, diving deeper into the comatose girl's mind. She had formidable blocks in place when she was in her inert mode.

Outside the door to the private room Jack Carlysle slept uneasily. He had come as a favor to Nikki, guarding the room. He heard stirring in the room, and a soft, shallow moan. An eye snapped open, and he looked about. Chirping, Jack bound into the room. Nikki was waking up in her chair, and Fubar's projection hovered at the bedside of the girl. Seeing everything was safe, Jack wandered back out. He spotted his best friend down the hall, and rushed over.

__ __ __ __ __

Joseph Turner looked up to see his scaly friend running excitedly towards him. Finishing tying his shoe, Jericho looked at the furious hand signals his best friend was making. Everyone on campus had heard the gruesome details of what had happened to the freshman girl, Host. Even the most cruel and vicious bullies and Ultra-violents had shown worry and compassion. That she was awake was good news indeed. The pair walked to the nurse's station and reported the good news there.
__ __ __ __ __

Lucy looked around, her mind felt foggy. She saw Fey in the corner of the room, looking at her with concern. Fubar was hovering beside her. In a weak voice, Lucy managed to whisper out a single word, "Mirror".

Nikki looked over at Mr. Geintz uncertainly, but he silently nodded. She walked over to a stand near the bed and pulled out a small hand mirror. She held it up for Lucy to see. THe hole in her chest had finally closed, but ragged raised scars could still be seen, radiating out from a central point in the exact center of her breastbone. It looked for all the world like someone had taken a knife to her and had carved the image of a starfish in her. Nikki moved the mirror around, and Lucy could see the foot still trying to heal, she had a small growth about half the size of her other foot, one toe was grown partially back. She did not know it, having been unconscious the whole time, but nearly 3 weeks had passed. The doctors had been unsuccessful in locating a reason, but something had clearly retarded her healing beyond their own methods. When they had taken her off the regen-inhibitors, no increase in regeneration had been seen.

__ __ __ __ __

Ophelia Tenent walked in, hastily putting on her lab coat. She had been off-duty, and was wearing a pair of tight denim blue jeans and an Atlanta Falcons tee shirt. She walked into the room and looked at everyone assembled. Hastily everyone non-essential was ushered out. Louis remained, since there were going to be difficult questions and even more difficult answers.

__ __ __ __ __

Chief Delarose walked into Doyle Hall, there was quite a gathering waiting in the hallway. In addition to Fey, Jericho and Razorback, the other members of Host's training team had assembled. He waited outside with them, waiting for the all clear from Tenent or Fubar to enter.

Lucy walked through the Quad, the leaves were scattered along her path. The trees were bare, and a cold wind blew through her, chilling her to the bone. A week had passed since she had awoken. Mrs Carson had reassured her that the search for Donnie's abductors would not be abandoned. The Headmistress had been very sympathetic, even paying for Dad to fly in. It had been cathartic for both of them. Dad didn't know Donnie that well, but they both grieved and both helped each other. Lucy had gone with when Carson dropped Dad off at the airport this morning. Now she was alone again. The scar tissue on Lucy's chest had faded over the past week, now there was not much more than a patch of discoloration. She walked slowly, her new foot hurt a little, it had nearly finished regenerating, only the little toe had yet to emerge.

While Dad being there had been good, the other development that week had not been welcome. Lucy sighed and took out her new MID card, she looked at the stats it listed:
It seemed as though her new ratings probably would be permanent.

Lucy was so absorbed in thought that she jumped when she heard someone speak. She had not noticed anyone around previously.

"Yes, it's sad to think that all the doctors spent so much time researching how much your brother needed you symbiotically, that they failed to consider it was a two-way street."

Lucy looked up and noticed a black-skinned girl standing in front of her. Not black, as in of African descent, but black as in jet black. Noticing the ribbon in the girl's white hair, she determined that it was Belphoebe. Jobe wouldn't pay attention to such cosmetic details. The girl smiled at her, and put her arm around Lucy's shoulder.

"You know, Jobe was mighty interested in you two. I did run some interference for you two, I'm sure you wouldn't like his research methods. Anyhow, you don't have anything to fear from him. And you certainly don't have anything to worry about, when it comes to little ol' me", Belphy said with a somewhat off-putting grin.

Lucy nodded and thanked Belphy, and then turned and slunk off towards Crystal Hall. She wasn't that hungry, then again now she didn't have to eat massive amounts of calories to fuel her hyper-regen, or to feed Donnie. A tear streaked down Lucy's cheek, and she pulled her jacket tighter around herself, maybe at least the others would be there.

Oct 31st 2007

Tom stared into the morning sun. Its golden haze reflected off of his bone white skull. Sighing the lich silently wished he could feel the warmth the nearest star brought. Standing off to the side of the front door to Poe Cottage he waited for his prey. Well not prey exactly. More like Nemesis. Grimacing he waited for the little girl.

Jade bounced out of Poe dancing in between the morning zombies. Until an actual zombie called out her name. “Oh, Jade.” The menacing voice called out to her. Snapping into attention the glitter avenger turned to face her enemy with Kitty Compacts drawn.

“What do you want Tom?!” Jade yelled as the other Poesies gathered around.

“A truce. 24 hours. No tricks, escapades, sacrifices, and no interfering from both of us. Starting from the moment you sign.” Tom explained holding out a binding contract.

“Why would I? After that you broke into our clubhouse and rearranged all our anime DVDs! It took me an hour to find Hello Kitty Island Adventure!” Jade screamed at the Lich.

“You are right. You have no obligation to even look at this paper, but sometimes the stars align. All it takes is a lot of faith and a little bit of trust.” Tom conceded with a hint of sadness.

“Let me look.” Jade said extending her hand cautiously.

Reviewing the piece of paper. It looked like a standard sorcerer’s contract. Ayla was always blabbing about them. The contract explicitly stated that no action could be taken from either party. Nothing was said about watching from a distance. Soon a plan was formed in Jade’s mind. Signing the paper, the little girl bounce off the Crystal Hall to have a chat with Ayla.

Tom scratched his chin as the crowd dispersed in the morning light. He knew deep down that Jade would try something. He just hoped she would be too late. Asking a nearby student for the time he knew he would be early to Shine’s workshop. Laughing to himself.

“I can’t remember the last time I was early to something.” Tom chuckled before calming down into silence and shuffling into the tunnels.

Night

Jade wandered around the crowd looking for the monstrous Lich. Seeing it was Halloween. She knew Tom would be dressed either as himself or something so utterly horrifying it would bring nightmares galore. She had taken a lot of verbal blows from the rest of Team Kimba for signing a sorcerer’s contract without anyone’s help. She hoped it would be worth it.

Running around she bumped into a rather tall prince. The strong blonde haired man was dressed in regal ball clothing. With a masquerade mask completing his middle age costume. Tucked in between his arms was an unmarked bottle filled with a dark liquid.

“Oh sorry, I didn’t see you.” Jade exclaimed surprised by the stranger.

“Don’t worry about it” The young man explained.

Walking past the girl heading south. Jade was perplexed for a bit, the festivities didn’t extend past Poe. Shrugging she continued her search for Tom.

Tom snickered as his nemesis walked away from him. Holding the bottle of wine tightly in between his arms. He grew more nervous the closer he got to the Grove. Standing at the edge of the trees he put on the protective charm that he rented from Mr. Lodgeman. Walking across the magic line, the tress groaned at his presence.

Hiking deeper into the magic forest. Tom strode effortlessly. Until he reached a clearing in full view of the stars. He gasped at the beauty of this spot. This one spot had been preordained to have a thin veil of space, time, and magic. All were blended here at this moment in time. One could do horrible or great things here. However, there was only one thing Tom wanted to do.

Setting the wine down. Tom pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. Tossing it into the air the paper burst into flames. Then a deep fog crept in from the trees. Tom stared deep into the center of the mist. As a shadow began to take shape getting ever so closer.

“Anna…” Tom whispered at the beauty in blue ball gown striding towards him as tears began to lightly stream down his face.

“Why are you crying, Thomas? You were always so stoic, my love.” Anna replied with a smile.

“It has been a long time, my love.” Tom reached out to her clasping her hands. Bringing her in closer to dance.

“Oh, Thomas you are so cold. Why are you so chilly, dear?” Anna pleaded.

“I do not know. It seems you will have to warm me up with a dance in the moonlight.” Tom deflected with a smile.

Taking the girl by the hand Tom danced with her. As they laughed, played, and drank in the forest. Time marched forward. Soon the girl collapsed into his arms. Holding her tightly Tom dreaded the question that would end the night.

“Thomas?” Anna asked.

“Yes…” Tom sighed.

“You, don’t have a heartbeat.” Anna complained. “You and I are dead…aren’t we?”

“Yes...”

“How…Did I…well die?” Anna choked on her words.

“You died…Well you died by bring us the most precious gift into this world…Our daughter.” Tom lied.

“Is she okay?” Anna asked not aware of the current time she was in.

“She grew up well, and married a devoted man. Together they started a loving family of their own.” Tom continued his lie.

“And how…did you die?” Anna whimpered.

“I am only halfway dead…I wish to join you, but I need something...” Tom explained.

“What is it, my love?”

“Your wedding band...” Tom explained pointing to the silver ring on Anna’s finger.

Quickly taking it off the ring, the specter of Anna turned into dust in Tom’s arms. Holding the ring in the palm of his hands. Tom wailed into the night sky as his disguise melted away. Leaving him to weep alone deep in magic forest.

Mrs. Carson’s Office.

Just by looking at the ring Liz knew it radiated a slight spiritual hum to it. She sat alone in her office with the Reverend. Still in her Imp costume, she and Rev. Englund had finished a meeting with the puzzling Tom.

“I don’t buy it. This is a trap. Why would a Lich give us the key to defeating their own phylactery?” Englund pleaded pointing to the ring.

“Maybe, he just wants to die.” Liz explained while watching the shadowy figure through the window.

“Non-sense, all liches have to have an innate will to live forever, if they don’t then the ritual fails.” Englund explained. “I know what he did. I have the old church records that survived the dark ages. I know he killed his pregnant wife, and their court mage. All in order to transcend death. If he was willing to do all that. Why die now?”

“Hmm…well that’s the million dollar question then.” Liz mused. “Perhaps it’s guilt. Or maybe it’s some form of penance. Or maybe he has finally accepted his own human mortality that he cast aside so long ago. Tom, is a complex man. The deeper you dig the more tunnels you find. Layer upon layer of bravado facades. Conflicting desires. However, at his core I think there is more to him than just some mad mage.”

“And what is that?”

“Honestly, under it all? I think that you would just find a normal man. With a suffering heart, and a shattered dream.” Liz concluded.

Trisha looked around the table at the others gathered there. It was noticeable that one chair sat empty. That was Lucy's chair, the one she shared with her brother. Neither one was there, but they were in everyone's thoughts.

Looking over the assembly, Trisha spoke up. "I bet everyone has been wondering why I called us all here. I learned something. You know the Alphas? Last year they were different. They were evil, they were bullies. They beat on those like us, and those that couldn't take care of themselves. Then Kodiak stages a big coup and kicked out the problem students."

"Ok, but what's that have to do with us?", Tanuki asked.

Looking around, Backslide leaned in and whispered to the others. "Well, people are starting to call them the Rejects...We need to pick a new name."

Motherload looked at her and snorted. "Who are we talking about? I'm sure It's nobody we need to be that concerned over."

Backslide frowned and listed off the people in question. "The Don, Aries, Flicker and Icer."

Everyone slid down in their chairs uneasily. After the awkward silence, Fidget finally spoke up, "Sooo... um.. any ideas on that new name?"

Halifax, Nova Scotia
Winter, 2004

Hopping from one foot to the other Calla watched from her place in line as Halifax's most important superhero Sabawaelnu talked to students individually and in small groups. She smiled in delight as the woman made a glittering sea serpent entirely out of water and had it weave around the group of boys, sprinkling them with cool, salty mist.

Holding a small folder to her chest, Calla hoped she looked good enough in her best dress. She had wanted to put her black hair into a braid like the superhero, but it hadn't come together so she had it neatly parted down the middle and held in place by her most adult looking hair clips. At twelve years old she knew she didn't have much going for her, but she was trying her best, she'd even put on a tiny bit of lipstick and used some foundation and blush to cover up a few pimples.

She knew this was alright, her mother couldn't get angry at her for this. It was a school event, it would look bad if she didn't go up to the hero and say hello. Nothing could go wrong, she had practiced everything in her head the night before. It was going to be perfect.

Finally after what seemed like an eternity it was her turn.

Taking a moment to straighten her skirt, she walked up to the superhero smiling proudly. “Hi Sabawaelnu,” she said, making sure to enunciate the name properly. “I'm Calla, and I'm your bigge-”

She jerked to a halt at the look of contempt and anger from the superhero. It was only on the hero's face for a moment before it was replaced by a smile. Calla could see the tight lips, and how the smile seemed to be pasted on purely for show. The eyes remained the same, looking at her as if she was dirt.

“I-I'm your biggest fan,” she squeaked out. “I did an essay about you for class, it got an A+, I was hoping you could, could, maybe, sign it or, or something. If you want.”

“Of course dear. You must make your mother very proud,” Sabawaelnu said, her voice was almost cheerful but there was a thick undertone of sarcasm as if entertaining a stupid toddler who was proud of some scribbles.

Taking the folder the hero began to write on the first page. With her head down, blushing fiercely, Calla wondered what had possessed her into doing this. She wasn't wanted here, she didn't deserve to talk to the hero.

She was startled out of her self hatred by laughter and the sound of dripping water. Looking between her feet she saw a puddle of water forming from a steady drip between her legs, and then she felt her underwear, stockings and shoes getting wet. Her eyes went to the superhero and she saw the look of glee in the womans eyes.

Spinning on her heels she ran from the gym.

“That poor girl, she must have been too excited to see me,” Sabawaelnu said. “Do any of you know who her teacher is so she can get her essay back?”

**

That night Calla sat curled up on her bed, an ice pack held against her eye to keep the swelling down, her mother had let her know just how she felt about the humiliation at school.

She took one last look at her essay which Sabawaelnu had signed for her. She didn't read the words, she didn't have to, the hateful things were firmly imprinted into her mind.

Slowly and methodically she ripped the essay up into ever smaller pieces . When they were too small to tear anymore she threw them into the garbage. Then covering herself in her blanket she tried to will the world away.

Houma, Louisiana.

Henri Larouche was a geek, and he freely admitted it. He often sat and daydreamed about what it would be like to be one of the heroes he read about in his comics.
Gambit was his favorite, even if the writers couldn't do a passable Loosiana Cajun accent to save their lives. He daydreamed about waking up one day and discovering awesome powers. Maybe he could go to some school for Mmutants, up north. Like in the stories. He could picture it now. Students of every skin color, size, and mutation walking around campus, under the watchful eye of a hot blond headmistress, just like Emma Frost.

That's why when the scab from where he skinned his leg last week hot-dogging on his bike peeled off, revealing the strange chrome metallic skin, he was elated. It was real, he was an honest to goodness mutant. Maybe he would become super-strong, like Colossus, or be able to shift and flow into different forms, like Mercury.
He could not wait. He would be a hero!

Henri snuck out to the pole-shed where his Pa worked. Pa was the best marine mechanic in all of the Parrish, but Henri didn't want to get stuck here. That's all you did here, you either worked on the shrimp boats, or you worked on keeping them going. He would leave this life, and being a mutant was his road to a better future. Grabbing some sandpaper, he made his way back out, making sure to lock the shed back up. It hurt like hell, but sitting in his room, Henri bit his lip and rasped away at his leg. The skin became rough and tender, blood drops forming from the abrasion. It was worth the pain if it meant he would be special. Downstairs he heard Ma bustling about, making her usual cup of late-night chamomile. Dabbing at the excess blood, Henri wrapped his leg and got into his pajamas. Long pants would cover the scabs, and hide his new skin until he was ready to reveal it to Ma and Pa. Thoughts of being a big-time hero ran through his head, making it difficult to sleep.

Morning came, and Henri grabbed the rifle and his pole from their storage place by the front door. He would go out and catch a nice big catfish for dinner, and then talk with Ma and Pa. Henri grabbed his rain slicker, and the lunch Ma packed and headed out, whistling excitedly.

__ __ __ __ __

Sheriff Charlie Ironfeather shook his head, and turned from the window. It was always difficult to see a life snuffed out so suddenly and senselessly. The body had been so badly mangled that positive ID had been difficult. What was left of the boy was no more than a torn, mangled mass of flesh. There was enough left of the boy's hand that they had at least been able to identify him through fingerprint records. It just didn't make sense to him, the boy had lived here all his life. He knew how dangerous gators could be, but he hadn't gotten off a single shot before he was torn to pieces.

Canyon Village
Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming.

Dwight Morrie had seen a lot of things in his 34 years as a park ranger, but this was without a doubt the worst thing he had ever seen. He had encountered the campsite on a routine patrol. There was a fall storm rolling in and in the mountains an autumn storm could be treacherous. Wind and rain could cause flash flooding.
He had immediately known something was off. The tent was torn and the shreds were flapping in the wind. There was blood on the ground. People weren't supposed to camp here. Not away from the main campgrounds. He drew his gun and came close. What he had seen made him run away to the edge of the site.

After wiping some stray vomit from the corner of his mouth, he went back to the scene. Bending down, he examined the remains, what there were of them. Dwight had a camera in the jeep, and after retrieving it, he took pictures of the body. She had probably been a young woman, possibly a teenager, though there wasn't enough left to maker that a certain determination at the moment. Something caught his eye near the tree-line, and he walked over. the woman's severed hand lay on the ground. Zooming in with the camera, he took a picture of it. It was unusual, the skin had small iridescent scales, and the fingernails were sharp and pointed. They resembled claws.

Returning to the jeep, Dwight called it in. "Echo 11 to base. Send a team to my position. I've got a body. Badly mauled. My best guess is mountain lion or bear, doesn't seem like a wolf pack kill.... and base, call the MCO office in Cheyanne, just in case. Victim was a mutant."

Post debrief, evening sim, Arena 99, Laird Hall, Whateley Academy

The two "mooks du jour" watched their latest Blue Team file out, to grab a snack and maybe even to get some studying or homework done, before dropping their disguises. For the one, it was just a matter of cancelling an illusion. The other shifted his manifestation from a generic "human" form, to his default human manifestation. The sim instructors had seen far wierder things, but that didn't make the tactical implications easier to ignore.


"They're calling themselves 'dregs'? I'll bet Lucy never had to dissuade her friends from hijacking the (Special Ed.) 'short bus' to recruit replacements for the hookers they'd killed, " growsed the human magician. "If the idjits had given me some time to work with, instead of panicking - which is how the girls ended up as dog chow in the first place - I'm sure I could have found some classmates who'd like to get paid for what they were giving out."

The spirit-turned-part-time-human replied, "Mads. That high school was a Hell hole. I'm surprised there wasn't a flaming pit somewhere on that property ... and I'm not referring to the landfill vent pipes! Surely you could have kipped in some culvert located in a classier part of Detroit."

Gunnery Sergeant Bardue probably knew better than to speak up, but the demoralized team that had just departed had run into overtime on an already late schedule.

"I do hope that you managed to persuade your friends to find some other means to line their pockets!"

Metro nodded, "They did drop the bus hijacking scheme after I pointed out that even the middle-schoolers could out-gun us. Stealing cars from pimps and dealers turned out to pay much better: after we taught Max to not harvest the leather seats for holsters."

Gunny Bardue was hard-pressed to identify the improvement there. It was almost as if the kid missed boosting cars.

Thomas pointed out that that was before his time, thankyousoverymuch. But the high school really was that dire:

"Let's talk about security, hm? They didn't even notice that there was a sniper following you to and from school every day, even AFTER he helped with 'cleaning' after some luser tried to jump you." The whole idea didn't sit well.

Mads didn't see it the same way. "Nah. I'm sure the Corp paid the School Board's spiders to look the other way." He frowned, remembering those days, "I still think they could have installed a hardened cortical bomb for the money spent, but that still would require close-in surveillance... Meh. It's not like I was trying to lose the tail."

"Wait. A cortical what?"

"Bomb." Mads helpfully explained. "They're not as easy to deploy as you'd think. It's bad for business if the kill signal is jammed or if someone spoofs the commands across the right channels. Never could get one installed for me."

Thomas rolled his eyes at the old complaint. "That's because unless the asset is carrying nova-hot paydata or delta-grade wares, asking for that is a disqualification. Didn't you EVER read your own human resources regs?"

"HR hated me."

No one in the room could imagine why (past five to ten reasons that came to mind first).

"So! Debrief comments in by Friday?"

"Why not sooner?"

"Admin hates me too? No, gentlemen, I still need to get prep time in on my magical theory project. We're constructing my athame after T's is done. Shame about the other techies though..."

Oh, God.

"They keep staring at Smithy's work and not paying attention to the end of the tunnel just past her bay. Oops."

Isaac Newton Middle School, NYC, 2007

Adriana Ferrer sat in math class, bored out of her mind. She was well beyond the curriculum the class taught, but her Mai said she still had to go. But that was never the main reason Adriana was upset about being at school.

It was only a year ago that she'd been Adrian. There was little doubt that she'd manifested as some sort of mutant, but her Mai had insisted that once Adriana had started to show, that "he" became "she" and that was unfortunately the end of the discussion. Mai had had three boys, and now she had two boys and a girl. She was ecstatic, and anything that Adrian had wanted was secondary. She was Adriana now. That was that. Maria Ferrer had a daughter to dote on and love and mentor. Nothing else ever mattered.

Including "Adriana's" feelings.

Adriana continued pretending to take notes while she started to scribble a fractal. She'd read the entire book when she had been bored at home, so none of the material presented today intrigued her. It was just graph and exponents. How rudimentary could you get?!

What annoyed her more than anything were her breasts. Subconsciously, or not so subconsciously, she noticed them pressing against her upper arms. They felt in the way, all the time. How did regular girls deal with this?

Adriana looked around the classroom, and realized that most of her "peers", the other girls in class, didn't really have to deal with it. Adriana was the most developed girl in the school, ironic considering that they'd been a girl a lot longer than she'd been. She'd noticed over the last year that a lot of the girls in gym still didn't even need a bra. Her Mai had taken her to Macy's a month ago, where they'd found out that she was at least a 34C, and probably would end up even larger.

The other thing that bothered her were her nails. Her mother had refused to let her trim her nails once she started becoming obviously feminine, and not long after, Adriana found herself in a nail salon, getting base coats, lime polish, and top coat applied by a friend of her mother.

She faked outlining a few math examples before rolling her eyes.

She'd never thought of this before, but somehow, she felt it. There was something about nail polish. It tugged at her fingers. She could feel the weight of the lacquers. If she was pressed, she would, under duress…admit the satisfaction she felt from the slick feeling on her fingernails. But there had been a new, noticeable weight on her nails. She ran her thumbs over her fingers all the time. Was she becoming vain? Her mai had forced her into a manicure, and as much as she hated to admit it, she liked the end results. It felt good.

Though she noticed the nails and her hair more, but the mass of her hips and butt, her ever present chest…it wasn't fair! Miguel and Alex teased her constantly. They called her a sissy. Her mai boxed their ears when she heard it, but it wasn't enough. Adriana felt trapped into this…girly package!

---

It was late November that Madre and Padre had received a notice from the school board. The board had finally noticed...something about her. There was a referral to some school in New Hampshire attached. The only problem was funding. This boarding school was expensive. Thankfully, District #4 had supplied a number of scholarship applications for the Ferrer's. Mai filled out most of them, and they were waiting on the results.

Maybe she wouldn't have to endure the humiliation of swapping genders in New York's high school system? Maybe she could be "herself," during high school? No pretending. No nasty comments from old classmates. A clean break.

Adriana slipped into a skirt, cami, and blouse for church. The pantyhose annoyed her, but her father insisted she be dressed appropriately. It sucked that Miguel and Alex got away with just a clean shirt and black pants, while she and her mother had to spend so much extra time getting ready.

As Adriana made her way out the door, she turned back to snag her silly lace veil before the Ferrer family left for Service.

Jordan sat on the bench, watching with interest. Several of the Mystical Arts teachers were having a heated discussion with the Maintenance staff. There was pointing and hand-vaving and a lot of shouting. As this was going on, she observed poor Ernesto nodding and trying to continue his work on the tower.

She noticed all that was going on. A short time later, she observed Metro approaching. He sat down and took in the scene.

"So, what has Circe and Grimes so animated?", He asked with a faint smile.

Jordan sighed. She didn't hate Mads, per se... but he was just too creepy. "Someone has been poking holes in the RF barrier around the school"

Mads cocked his head, questioningly.

Sighing, Jordan spoke up. "Have you ever noticed that despite having a powerful enough signal to reach into Vermont, Maine, and Canada, that you can't even hear the campus radio station in Dunwich?"

Mads stroked his chin. "I never thought about it. I certainly wondered how a radio station could exist here on campus that allowed the on-air personnel to so openly talk about mutant issues."

Jordan pointed to Ernesto and the Mages. "Whateley has a powerful magical and electronic RF barrier that blocks the station signal from leaving the campus, but it appears someone has been selectively poking holes in it."

Mads frowned at that, someone was certainly being creative in an attempt to get the school to out itself. He watched as the repair work went on, and the radio broadcast tower was 'repaired'.


Informed it doesn't work, because facts.

Whateley Academy, January, 2008

The math department finally gave up, turning Adriana over to The Imp.

Adriana had been run through the wringer, including being mentored by a native-American girl who was apparently the Academy's math genius. The administration somehow couldn't understand it. Adriana could freehand fractals of any type. She'd even sketched out Romanesco broccoli after looking at it for barely 10 seconds. Any Mandelbrot set took her less than 20 minutes to sketch out.

Over and over, including help from the Junior Kayda Franks in her cottage, they'd tested and tested Adriana about math concepts. She struggled with multivariable calculus, but managed only because she had memorized the textbook.

Still, give Adriana a rough sketch, and she would have a tenth ordinal fractal, in ink, developed within the hour.

So here she sat, the Academy's infamous art teacher staring her down, with a set of pencils and ink before her. But rather than the impression she heard from the other students, The Imp was all business with her.

"You have no apparent skill for Imp-ovisaion, no skills outside of pencils, charcoals, or ink, and honestly, I wish we could work on your creativity, but let's focus on your strengths before trying to branch out."

Adriana felt awful. The math department had rejected her, the Poe Math prodigy found her hopeless, and even her new art teacher had just said she could barely manage. Adriana was starting to wonder why she even came to the Academy. She'd save her family a lot of money just by dropping out. Scholarships be damned!

Noticing her downtrodden look, The Imp placed her clawed hand on Adriana's shoulder, giving her a quick squeeze. "I'm not saying you don't have talent. But let's channel your energy into something specific before we really start working on developing your skillset."

The Imp placed a stapled set of paper in front of her and also planted a strange looking object in front of her. It was a little box with weird protrusions sticking out of it.

"Draw this thingamabob. Isometric, and then from three perspectives. Left and Right, Top and Bottom, Front and Back. There's reference information in that packet."

Adriana gaped at her newest assigned mentor, horns and all, as The Imp watched her with complete and eerie professionalism. She waited for Adriana to act. Insistent, almost. Eventually, Adriana overcame her nerves and grabbed a 2H pencil. It didn't take her long before she had swapped to a 0.45 mm Japanese fountain pen for the inking. The stack of papers provided her a rough, and she meant "rough," exploded view of the thingamabob, but from the projected views she started with, Adriana figured out what the rough sketches were trying to convey.

Thirteen views later, Adriana placed her pen back on the table. The Imp smirked.

"Not bad, for a first timer. I want to work on your hand pressure with the pen. I think we may be able to work you into airbrushing, but let's take baby steps. I'll let the administration and the techies know to hold off on his patent application until your figures are inserted. And…maybe expect some unusual thank yous from one of your classmates."

Adriana wondered what the heck had just happened over the last…four hours!?

Sitting at the head of the table for the freaks and geeks of Whateley, Jacob tried to pay attention to the newest discussions about an upcoming movie very few people outside of independent film aficionado`s would have ever heard of, the love life or lack thereof of some of the girls, a new bully, and whatever Ellie was drawing, while eating his lunch. His little group didn`t often need help, they were just powerful enough to make them not worth the bullies attention, and while they were some of the most socially awkward kids at the school due to GSD or various social problems, they mostly knew how to avoid standing out, but when things hit the fan he liked to be on top of it to keep things under control.

With that in mind he shifted one of his spider like eyes that ringed his head, bending the light to see what their newest member was doing. Ellie hadn`t joined them in the usual way, which was usually done by a type of social gravity where the freaks and awkward people somehow gravitated towards the largest group of people who wouldn`t reject them. They`d sort of adopted her after watching her wandering around totally lost and confused for the first two weeks of school, being the victim of bullies and the 'cool' students, despite her UV band.

"Aren't you going to eat Ellie?" Juliette asked, pointing at the still full tray of food.

"Snow, yo, Joe, mow, low, Poe, row," Ellie replied, her kaleidoscope eyes staring blankly at the page she was drawing on.

Looking at her page with his special eye, Jacob row after row of gibberish words and nonsensical quotes. After Ellie had told them about her problem, he'd gone and read a few papers on schizophrenia, and it definitely looked like this would be a bad day for her. Which would make life so interesting for everyone if it got much worse.

Those paying attention to her words cast worried looks at each other.

"Ellie, how are you feeling?" Jacob asked.

"I wish people would stop asking me that," the girl replied. "Questions, questing, questioning, answering, pleasing, don't, do, want, take. Do this, do that. Jump for the camera. Must make the audience happy. Can't let the ratings slip."

"Crap." Jacob got to his feet and motioned for Juliette and Marigold to join him. "Come on Ellie, lets get you to Kane."

"No. Don't want to."

Marigold lifted her to her feet and got her moving in the right direction.

"Don't want to go. No. No. No. No. No," Ellie kept repeating the word like a broken record.

"What are you doing to that girl?" the wannabe hero known as Aegis demanded, getting in front of the group.

"For the love of... Aegis, get out of the way, we need to get her to Kane," Jacob said, knowing that it probably wouldn't work considering how the boy felt about GSD.

And as if on cue, Ellie started waving at the air.

"What did you do to her?" Aegis demanded, poking Marigold right in her bony chest.

The skeletal like girl, couldn't speak but the withered flesh on her face twisted into a grimace. She looked at Jacob as if asking for permission to hit the idiot.

"Aegis," Jacob spoke as clearly and calmly as possible, "we didn't do anything to her, she needs to get to Kane to take some medicine. Do you want to come with us?"

The eye in the back of his head saw a table suddenly jerk in surprise as a girl who looked almost identical to Ellie appeared beside it. The manifested girl immediately threw herself on the closet guy, rubbing her breasts in his face, and moaning something too quietly to be heard from their side of Crystal Hall. "Shit! Juliette!"

"I see her," the four legged girl said. Grabbing a taser out of her bag, she seemed to blur and in four seconds was at the table jabbing the weapon into the manifestations back. The girl jerked and fell to the ground much to the boys disappointment. A hard stomp on the fallen girls head made her vanish into a cloud of mist.

"WHAT THE HELL?! ARE YOU GUYS NUTS?!" Aegis shouted.

"Oh, oh," Ellie said, ducking down behind a table.

"Marigold lets go," Jacob said, swinging Ellie onto his shoulder.

Marigold smiled, grabbed Aegis by the neck and the crotch and threw him down the aisle hard enough to make him slide into the crystal wall fifty feet away. With the way clear Jacob took off at a run, as Juliette and Marigold moved in to deal with two more manifestations that didn't look very human.

"Ellie, please hold it together," he muttered. He really didn't want to deal with her fourth type of manifestation, the last time that had happened he'd ended up spending the night in Doyle. Seeing Marigold smashing into and through a metal table, he picked up the pace.

Okay, I'm gonna channel some grief into a micro-scene - hopefully.

===

Where it all began. I like thinking that, where it all began. It, of course, being my current state of affairs or the utter complete spontaneous change of my life for the better, or worse. I remember it because it was the night after my beloved pet, a pug named Gremlin, passed away. THere I was just a night after he was buried and I was still a wreck and trying my best to cope. Being filled with emotion I went for a run around the local county road in the fading sunlight of the night. I remember it was cold enough to pain my skin, and my hands were numb near the end.

I also remember it because it was the night I almost killed myself, and the night I was born again. See this is where the -it- in 'where it all began' actually begins. Some poor sap filled with tons of wonderful mental baggage makes one fatal mistake, and then one really bad decision.

So, there I was, my feet pounding away at the sidewalk in that slowly dimming day. I run past the shops of downtown Mount Vernon and I aim myself toward the bridge. I'm only in a hoodie, a running top, and a I can feel the rush of air biting at my hair. Now, I really wasn't sweating on account of the chill evening, but still I was breahting hard. I run up to cross the bridge and see people in the way. I'm not really the most "sociable" person, and I'm not the strongest so I turn around and decide to go the other way. Now at this moment is when I make my mistake.

Maybe it was the grief; the impatience of my run; or maybe I did want to kill myself. I darted out pass the cars an didn't see the red blur of the sedan as it raced into my body. Onlookers said I went up and over the windshield. Afterward they said I just got up and ran off after shaking myself off. What they won't say is that I was bleeding, that my blood was blacker than tar, and that my eyes were like empty voids in space.

When the car hit me something or someone grabbed onto me, pulled me down into a deep dark void and gave me a deal. Her (and I think it's a her because of her voice) visage was like ripped up children's doll in human form. She too was dying and wanted to make a deal.

"My life and yours will be one," she offered, "the pain will be gone."

I thought about it, pain, and feeling being gone sounded nice. Not being dead sound nice too.

"Deal," I said and took her seemingly severed hand.

I still don't now how I got home that night, or how I even go to work. I apparently did a good job, and then called in sick the next day. Took my hormone pills (I'll cover that down the road) and went to sleep. No one mentioned the car accident, and no one seemed to care that I was groggy the entire time.

====

First micro-scene ever ^^

8:00 AM, Sunday, November 11, 2007, Poe Cottage, Whateley Academy

Just to be thorough about it, Mads tried the door knob on a residential room on the second floor. No such luck. Who in their right mind would teach a bird how to lock doors anyway? (Don't answer that) Of curse, the school rules did prohibit him from being unescorted in the residential sections of the cottage; they also prohibited certain other activities that could be forseen from boarding students boy-boy/girl-girl in the campus gay ghetto...

Besides, there was no way Horton wasn't awake and monitoring the enchantment she had put on the visitors' log.

Step Two. *knock* *knock* **KNOCK**

"Good morning to you!
Good morning to you!
You look like old roadkill,
And smell like a zoo! "

Judging by the groaning across the hallway, either Mads was entirely too audible and profoundly out of tune OR someone was having entirely too much fun.

Barracks etiquette still called for one more conventional attempt before getting creative for a feet-on-deck wakeup. Mads was removing a dress shoe when the next door door opened.

"What the fuck has got you so cheerful this holiday morning? Lover lock you out?" Murphy may not be entirely comfortable with those aspects of Poe, but she was neither blind nor deaf and she still had a good enough sense of smell to not have to guess in some cases.

"No. But T has."

"My question remains unanswered."

"Yet the defense still rests." Hm. Down the centerline a bit over one-third, offset for hinges...

Mads rapped the door with the outside edge of the shoe's hardened and stitched leather sole.

"You should give it a rest," Murphy said, before the boy rang the door. "And that is way too fucking loud! Are you sure whatsisname is even inside?"

Well, if she hadn't been awake before, Joanne was certainly awake now. Obviously plotting freshman banging on doors with a show will do that.

"Yes. He is."

Mads started to slip his shoe back on, thought more of it, and somehow palmed a gadget while the mildy-curious warper watched. A few seconds later, the door was unlocked.

"Wish me well!" the boy announced as he put the gadget away and started to enter the room. As an afterthought, he lodged the shoe in the door so he could step back out and hand Murphy a twenty for "violin strings if you can find them, thanks!" With that taken care of he went back to his task.

---

The object of this exercise was curled up and tangled in the sheets on one bed. It appeared to be semi-conscious from the sounds it managed to emanate.

"G'way. Leavme'lone"

Or something like that.

Clearly, this was an invitation to take decisive action, so Mads started taking off any clothing that could get in the way of what he had in mind...

---

Murphy and Anomaly's room was one of the few on that wing of Poe Cottage still occupied that didn't call up Security to report a "disturbance"

---

An hour or so later, Kane Hall, Whateley Academy

A thoroughly unrepentent Mads Møller-Jensen helped a pissed-off, miserable, and embarrassed Thomas Jensen into the clothing brought over from Poe. Eventually he got to the tie.

"'Don't worry', he said" *beat* "'I'll be fine', he said"

"I got it, already!"

"So you say."

"Look. I was going to be getting up soon."

"Y'u-huh. Carson's comping a long-distance teleporter connected with the school that she trusts. Alvin's still coming with as escort. Said he wouldn't miss it for the world. We're covered."

"It's just that ..."

"I know."

11:02, Victory Square, Vancouver

For their own reasons, Last Post was hard for each of the four visitors. As a light rain fell, and a 21-gun salute sounded, a heavier rain fell on Mads' shoulder.

As the words of McCrae's In Flanders Fields ghosted through the assembled crowd, Lisa Felder kindly fielded the few questions with "his older brother" or "in Afghanistan just this year" or the sadder "they haven't recovered the body yet". Alvin did his best to help as well, but as much as he and the people around him loved their country in their own ways, he was finding today to be a difficult day to be a psychic.


Mid-afternoon, Office of the Headmistress, Schuster Hall, Whateley Academy

If either woman had taken note of the two freshmen escorting a third off to his dorm first, they made no note of it.

There would be time enough later to talk school business with the Trustee. Instead, Elizabeth poured herself and her guest a silent toast to their own cherished ghosts and lost comrades.

Part 2 - It Keeps Going

---

A collar, something so inconsequential you'd think it wouldn't be more than a way to identify your dog. When you lose him though, it became the focus of for all the questions I bottled up in side. Oh well, it wasn't like I was going to be doing much at all that day. I was still in the fugue of the deal when found it hanging off the small stairs sthat lead down toward my room in the garage of the home I shared with my little sister and her husband. I was home from another run (this time not self destructive) and my eyes were drawn to the stupid color of the color. I held it up and rubbed the little name tag between my fingers. I cried for a moment as tears well up in my eyes.

You have a strong love for this animal. The voice was clear as day in my head. Did I mention I was a bit different? Yeah I apparently have some sort of spirit riding my skull now.

The day I got back and after I cried I walked into my room and slammed the door. My collection of coats, hats and my purse jostled there as I stared at myself in the in the mirror. Right then, and there I noted my face and the tears. I leaned in and after calming down got a look at my jawline. It was different, sure months of hormone therapy had changed a lot, but my jaw was rounder. I did wake up the night before with a splitting headache, but I wasn't expecting my face to mutate.

Was this something related to the deal? I blinked, was I manifesting as a mutant? That made now damn sense, I was in my late twenties so there was no way I could begin now. Even then, you'd think the MCO would have found me by now with my bleeding heart liberal posts on social media.

Nope,

So I asked the voice of any good possessed individual would.

"What's happening/," I asked i frustration.

And as if on cue the reflection in my mirror blurred and jolted before my eyes. But before I could get any sense of what I just witness my face was back, and this time there was a strange outline of a woman around it.

"Our deal saved your life and mine, it means our essence must bond," that was all I got. My eyes widened as emotion rolled up from the depths of my mind and I shook.

"EXPLAIN!" I screamed at the mirror. Gods, my sister is gonna wander what the hell I'm doing.

"Your mortal skin will change to suit myself and you. I will not control you, but I will continue to exist through you." So fucking clinical.

"Thank you for that," I groused, I turned as I stood on the balls of my feet. I pulled off my shirt and got a better look all over at my body. Body hair was looking a lot less prevalent meaning less shaving for me. and then there were a few other developments which were definitely noticeable. I sighed and shook my head while drying my tears.

I needed a new bra, great.

---

Heh, scene 2 yay.

Liz Carson looked at the collection of students gathered in front of her desk. "I assume you are wondering why I called you in here today, correct?"

Lucy Jensen looked at her friends, then at the headmistress. "Yes ma'am", she said quietly.

Liz sighed and leaned forward. "I assure you that none of you are in any trouble. I received a form requesting the changing of your training team name from 'rejects' to 'dregs'... while I do give some latitude, as far as such things go, I do not feel that that is a suitable name. I know that many of you feel that you have gotten the short end of the proverbial stick, but there is a difference between feeling like you have been rejected by fate and considering yourselves to be the so called 'dregs of humanity'. While it is unfortunate that other students took the name you had decided on and applied it to another group of students, I think you need to rethink your group name. I am denying the use of 'dregs' as your official team name and suggesting you come up with something better."

Lucy swallowed hard. She hadn't been in on the decision, and now Mrs. Carson was giving them an ultimatum. Glancing at her teammates, she saw that Fidget was doing just that. At least she wasn't in a full Drick-out. Backslide was staring at the floor, while Motherload and Tanuki rested their foreheads in their palms.

Gathering her courage, Lucy spoke up. "W... would Misfits work any better?"

Liz Carson looked at the group of dejected students and sighed. "If that's how you all feel, and you all agree to it, I will accept that as your new training team name. But... this will be the last time you can change it. So be very sure."

Lucy looked around at the others, and tilted her head. Seeing everyone else nod, she looked back at Mrs. Carson. "I think we can all live with that."

Smiling, Liz looked at the girls assembled in front of her. "Okay, I will sign off on the name change. Now get to class, all of you."

Liz watched the girls as they rapidly bolted from her office. At least it wasn't as bad as "Team Kimba", she thought to herself.

Breakfast, Wednesday 7th November, 2007, Crystal Hall



“Like, omg, that's all you're having? How are you not more hungry?” Okay, this was now officially a fucking stupid idea. She liked Penny enough, but maybe not enough for spending an entire morning with her. They'd stayed on the sofa trying to make sense of the book until about half six when Penny decided it was time for a shower.

And, well, it wasn't like Sarah was all that tired, since she'd slept earlier, and it'd let her get up and out before anyone else really woke up. She didn't want to see anyone else. Especially anyone who'd been part of her bollocking stupid “watch” already. Why the fuck couldn't they just leave her alone already? So it was that she'd had her shower with Penny, and nobody else in the bathroom. Well, none of the other freshmen. Some of the sophomores who hadn't moved up to the next floor came in while she was under the water, but they both came in and left before Sarah was done.

The extra time showering took when you're not allowed to get water on your neck sucked. Fucking stupid bandages. Even worse when the stupid fucking shaggy-haired giant of a senior didn't even heal her enough for the stitches to come out yet. “It'll heal better long term, considering your powers, to heal a little and often. You'll just have to 'Bear' with it, no pun intended.” He'd laughed at his own joke, that wasn't even funny, at least to Sarah.

What fucking pun? Where the hell was the pun?

And then, once 'Wyatt' had been allowed to piss off, and Dr. Tenet was happy with what she saw, Sarah had to go meet with Doctor Markham. Again. As if daily meetings with the woman last week weren't enough. Better her than “Just call me Robert” Cannell though. Ugh. For some reason, he reminded her of one of her old John's. That guy was weird. He'd come back five times, and she swore after the third that he'd figured out her real age. Sicko. The two men didn't even look alike, that much, but there was something about them. And of course, Dr. Markham had booked her in for a more in-depth meeting that afternoon, when she was supposed to be in martial arts.

One of the few lessons she'd actually been liking. Though that might have been because she'd been learning how to do some dodgy ass 'Dhal Sim' crap, and hitting people by stretching her arms. Okay, it took all her concentration to just change only part of her arms like that, and it was more "growing" the arms than "stretching" the arms, so she had to shorten her height to do it, but it was still cool.

But no, apparently it was more important for her to go talk about her fucking feelings, again, than to actually do a class in which she was performing WELL. Feelings. Oh joy.

And of course, Penny had been nice enough that she'd waited around for ALL of that, waiting outside, reading some of the books. Stupid happy bitch didn't even ask any fucking real questions. Like, you spend a fucking half an hour waiting while someone just talks, surely you should be fucking curious, right? But no, Penny had just opened her arms wide, asking for a hug, and then led her by the hand to the fucking crystal hall. Until Sarah had just put down some chocolate brioches and a bowl of porridge on her tray. And now, apparently, she was the calorie police.

What, did she think Sarah was trying to hurt herself some other way, by what? Starving herself? She just wasn't very fucking hungry, that's all! Fuck, this was MORE calories than she had when he used to make himself dinner!

“Let that go Penny-henny. T'ain't har fault them widdle English girls c'an't eat a decent sized meal, t'ain't that right hunny?”

Great, now the fucking Texan was here as well. What fucking else could go wrong this morning?

*Commercial begins*

VIDEO: Montage of pretty girl with dark hair and blue eyes in a white cotton sun-dress frolicking and playing in a forest clearing

VOICE-OVER: My name is Julie, and when it comes to clothing, for me it's 100% pure cotton, or it's nothing at all.

JINGLE: ♪ The touch, the feel of cotton, the fabric of our lives ♪

*Commercial ends*

Lucy walked back to her dorm with her head down. She looked around carefully for any sign of bullies or threats. While it was true that there had been a stoppage in attacks and stalking, She knew that several of the UVs and bullies were anxious to get her back for the 'scare incident" a couple months prior. Heh, had it really only been a couple months? Everything was upside-down in her life. She had finally recovered physically from her torture, but the emotional and mental scars were still there. Donnie was probably dead, and now there was the latest complication.

Dr. Tenent had just dismissed her from the hospital, after they had examined the discolored patch of skin. She hadn't noticed it herself, Roulette had spotted the lesion on her back that morning during morning shower rush. It was determined to be necrotic tissue by the doctors. Samples had been taken and a full physical had been ordered, much to Lucy's dismay. After determining that the tissue was, for now, spreading at a slower rate than Lucy's regeneration, they put her on a regimen of medications, and allowed her to resume her daily activities. Still, Lucy was worried by what Belphoebe had said to her the other day, about complications from not having Donnie joined to her.

Turning mid-stride, Lucy decided to head for Melville Cottage. Looking around, Lucy was dazzled by the pure opulence of the cottage, once inside. Almost backing into Jadis Dibolik while looking around, she apologized, and asked if Belphy were in.

Jadis frowned and nodded before giving instructions on how to get to the room Belphy shared with Jobe. Something about the girl unnerved Jadis, but she didn't know what. She knew all about Lucy Jensen, and the circumstances of her missing twin. She frowned again, thinking about twins in trouble reminded her of Phobos and Deimos. Whatever Lucy needed, she hoped that things would go better for her than they had for the terror twins.

High Autumn, or Harvest Home, Some fine port, from which the last honest ship long ago has sailed

Arek awoke with the arrival of the early morning onshore breeze. The light scents of seaweed and salts reminded him of his wilder days in the east. Those youthful adventures now served him far better than they'd seemed destined to, leading in multiple ways to his current position and posting. Moreover, he'd just finished his assigned husbandry duties this past fortnight: the Overseer may not have liked one detail or another, but the miscegenated worthy had to admit that Arek had filled the number and the letter of his assignment. The quality and number of individual hides he brought in proved testament to that.

To be sure, the high gentry of this Court hadn't forbidden him to make his annual quota amidst local stock: they simply hadn't thought that one might make quota from those they considered theirs. Or perhaps they'd expected the half-bred Eastern emissary to fail his duties should he not search further abroad - the further in their eyes the better, he expected.

Thinking on those hides he'd been allotted as his portion, he fancied he'd manage a fine waistcoat and gloves. Perhaps a parasol could be commissioned for use as a favor? If nothing else, he could indulge one of his many vices, and use the thin leather obtained as parchment onto which some of the scrolls he favored could be inscribed. These and other cheerful thoughts occupied Arek's morning, before consuming a simple luncheon of the remaining sweetmeats and sauntering out to conduct the afternoon's business.

Indeed, the annual cull had gone well as far as could be officially recognized. If the herds in their hovels and imitations of keeps grew just that least bit more wary of their lords and predators, then the merrow-born petty noble's work was just that much more a success! No matter if in the darkest hours of the night, after courtly revels ended, he might be found retching into a chamberpot - the price of aping Western customs - what of it? His job, and therefore what little he owned for a conscience that hadn't been hocked for one thing or another, was clear.

The Black Mask, Late 2007

Linda was refilling the salt shakers when she started to notice that the main room was getting a bit agitated. Close to the end of the week and also the quarter? Loans were getting called in, and everyone was a little on edge. Heart rates were up, forceful exhalation through nostrils, fingers strumming on tabletops, voices were getting strained and excitable.

She used the two center sets of her tympanic membranes to emit a penetrating low-frequency, fluttering thrum through the entire bar. Most people, even supervillains, tended to respond well to sounds that were close to a cat's purring, especially when she kept it soft and low, and they had no idea where it was coming from. It was far from the first time she'd used this trick. One she vastly preferred to the debilitating cacophony she had learned to produce in times of need. It certainly disturbed fewer customers in the end.

Linda flitted through the room, depositing full salt and pepper shakers at all the tables before scanning over her own section.

Ugh.

She saw an unfortunately familiar Hispanic man sitting at one of her tables, glancing over the menu. He wore his usual sheepskin leather jacket, snug jeans, and a simple t-shirt that did nothing to obscure his pecs and tight abs. A rakish goatee adorned his face, and his blue eyes met hers as she approached.

"Balrog."

"Linda, lovely as always."

How the hell did he always manage to be in her section? She quickly glanced around the room, first at Carl, who was innocently closing out a tab, and then to the other waitresses. No whispers, mutters, or guilty heartbeats. Whoever Balrog was bribing, either everyone was in on it now, or they were all used to it.

"May I take your order sir?" Linda said with a forced smile.

"My usual I think. It's been a good night."

"A Modelo Negra, a shot of Jose Cuervo, and a large batch of fries with mayoketchup on the side?"

"Yes," he said with a charming smile, handing Linda the menu back as he brushed his rough fingertips against the top of her fingers. Linda rolled her eyes as she went to place the order in the POS system. Did she notice Brandi giving her a smirking glance? She did notice a soft grunt from Balrog as she walked away from him, her backless uniform exposing her eight tympanic membranes. But she guessed he was probably looking a bit lower. Her hips and butt had filled out again over the last year, now that she had regular meals and a place to sleep. The uniform certainly did nothing to hide it.

Linda tapped in the order with her manicured nails, a luxury she hadn't been sure she'd been able to enjoy again. At least not without a "sponsor," aka, a pimp. Brandi and Carl had been right. The Black Mask paid very well, and let he get back on her feet. She felt like a real person again.

If only she could keep one particular customer's hands off of her.

She ran through the rest of her section, checking on her tables, making sure drinks and bellies were full, people were content, and everyone stayed happy and mellow. That was what the Black Mask was all about. There were other dive bars around the city, but the Black Mask offered more than that. It was a place of professionalism and relaxation.

She dropped off Balrog's drinks, and ignored the line he gave her. She got a million of those a week, and even if Balrog had incredible shoulders, she ignored it all the same. Prop Man, Stunt Man, whichever he was, they were all the same. Looking for a way to celebrate their recent victories and validate that they were the manliest of men. Even in a world where Exemplars seemed to be a dime a dozen, where there was a Greek god in every borough.

Linda swept through her tables again, refilling waters, taking new orders, and clearing plates. She dropped off Balrog's fries, and asked him if he needed anything else. He picked up a fry, dipping it in the sauce, and his mouth, his lips…

Linda snapped herself out of the daze, but Balrog had noticed. "Linda…this is a particularly excellent batch from the kitchen. Please extend my compliments to them. Would you care for one?" He offered up a french fry, dipped in the mayo, ketchup, and garlic powder mix. It smelled divine. Linda sensed Balrog's heart rate increase. He was nervous? He looked confident. But there was something beneath she couldn't place.

"Sure," she replied, cognizant of her tips. She took the fry politely and made a bit of a show of savoring the crispy potato and sauce. It really was good. She allowed a sigh to run through her before returning to her duties.

"One day…" she heard through her back from Balrog's table.

Lucy groaned as she sat up, the arthritis and inflammation in her joints bothering her. It had been a week since they had discovered the necrotic tissue spot on her back. Since then, it had spread, covering all of her upper back. Additionally, her kidneys kept failing and regenerating. She had broken her femur three times by simply walking. The bio-devisors had all been tasked by Carson to stop what they were doing, and research this issue. Belphoebe had suggested that the samples of Donnie’s blood and tissues kept in Doyle be transplanted, in order to stop the process. That was when it was discovered that they were missing.

Amelia Hartford sat at her desk fuming. Over a dozen sweeps of their network by herself and her team had uncovered nothing. Presumably the theft had occurred at the same time as the assault and the abduction, but no traces were found. With Blue assisting Everheart in testing the security network, and looking for inside intrusions, Amelia let Cyberkitty run around the network, looking for backdoors, holes, trojans, anything that could lead to a clue.

Lucy stepped out of her room and walked down to the showers, she turned on the water and got under, but it hurt. The water felt like she was being assaulted with rubber bullets or ball bearings. Sighing and turning off the water, she stepped out. Slipping on the wet floor, she fell and landed hard. She felt the crack as her spine fractured in several places, and her femurs broke, forcing jagged edges out through skin and muscle. She lay there weeping uncontrollably, until about a half hour later Sapphire walked in.

Sapphire saw Lucy laying on the floor, compound fractures in both legs. Her lower legs were splayed in unnatural directions. Fighting off the urge to vomit, Sapphire ran over to the emergency intercom on the wall and called Mrs. Cantrel.

“Mrs. Cantrel, this is Sapphire, I found Host on the ground in the first floor showers, get someone from Doyle over here as fast as you can.”, the girl franticly yelled into the intercom. Cantrel rushed in, her chair scraping through the doorway as she hurried. She saw the young girl laying there, staring vacantly into the abyss. This was far from the healthy young girl that had moved in at the beginning of the summer. Her skin was grey and stretched. It was cold and clammy. Veins could be seen through it, black with polluted blood. There was a slight green tinge to her, as bile and toxins were seeping into her skin. That beautiful dark violet hair was falling out, large bald spots exposing her scalp. Mrs. Cantrel had no illusions that this girl would not last long at this rate.

David sat down and looked at Elizabeth Carson. He was just a farmer, and science and technology were not his thing. He liked working with his hands, working the soil. He had listened to the explanations, and followed along as best he could. All the technical explanations about immune system deficiencies and chromosomal damage and went right over his head. All he knew was that he was here to collect his little girl’s body. He thanked Liz Carson for all her generosity and he left.

Liz watched The grieving father leave. This was honestly the worst part of her job, it never got any easier. She had been through it herself, and a miracle had given her back her little girl. She was thankful for that, at least.

Picking up the phone, Liz dialed a number. “Hello, Shelly? You want to come over tonight and have dinner? No nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to spend a little time with my girl.”

—————

David drove his rental car to the airport. After he had collected his daughter’s ashes from the mortuary, he wanted to leave. There was nothing here he wanted to remember. He had lost his son that he had barely known, and that had hurt. But losing his little girl was devastating.

—————

Fidget was at the group’s table, she was crying and shaking, lost in a severe Deidrick’s episode. People came over and offered her their sympathies. Her head down, Backslide came over and took her friend’s hand. Helping her up, the two walked out onto the quad. The rest of the team arrived one by one, and walked to the Remembrance Garden. Sitting in a circle, the friends held hands. Gradually, other students filtered in. Jericho came, followed by Razorback and the rest of the Outcasts. After a moment, they set up their instruments and Diamondback sang a soulful somber rendition of ‘Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds’.

Part 3 - Said and Done

Everything was going well for once! In between my job at a local pet store and going clothe shopping I had procured some updated delicates easily. I was surprised to note that my bra size had gone up to a B-cup and that my face had continued to change throughout the day. Even my voice was getting higher. I spent most of my day off running around from JC Penny to a few other places at the mall. My inner age-old punker had me also raiding the local value village for some new leggings. All in all by the time lunch rolled around I was at home staring at ads on the internet.

Let me corrected myself, the first damn half of the day went just fine, then along came act 2. That's when it al went crawling back to shit.

There I was in a pair of comfy boxers and a t-shirt just working on my laptop. In some way I was trying to work on those many book projects I never seemed to have time to finish. The words weren't just coming today. I got some cold brew from my mason jar in the fridge and headed back to my room. Just as I entered I heard someone clear their voice and stared in my mirror.

She was bac, the ghost girl.

This time she was much clearer than before. A body shrouded in a dress made of shadow straight out of arthurian legend. Her hair itself appeared to ebb with a strange energy and floated above her head as if she were underwater. Her face was tanned from soft summers and her face was heart shaped. I sat down as she watched me and noticed the long talon like nails she bore on her fingers. Around her waist was a silver belt engraved from what I guess was Ogham (a sort of ancient Celtic writing).

"What are you doing here?" I greeted her in the voice I'd use for facial blemish.

"Changing still, and I can see the magicks are binding use closer," she said in a voice traced with eerie melody.

"Yup, yup," I replied.

"You are well to not push me cailin," she said to me.

"Push you? Don't push me! You live in my flesh sack, so show me some respect!" I snapped back at her.

"Fiery responses, good you'll need that passion soon," she smiled. Her face alight in pleasure at my anger as if ist were feeing her.

"Morrigan take your fucking ghost face," I shouted at her.

"I will not take my face in any manner," she answered.

"This again, are you telling me somehow I'm bonded to a bloody goddess?" I laughed.

"Is that so difficult to believe?" she quipped.

"Maybe. I don't believe, your probably some sort of demon who saved my life to save her own."

"Possibly, but I am not relation to the enemy, none of the Dark Children share their ichor with my Sidhe Blood," she said showing a tinge of offensive.

I wondered what I was suppose to do here, console a fucking self-proclaimed god. Her image suddenly vanished from the mirror and I felt my arm jerk. Then my muscles in my legs spasmed as first my calves an then my thighs burned pain. I yelped as I fell over on the ground as my legs gave way under me. I hit the ground hard and rolled into a fetal ball as pain wracked my body. My bones creaked like wood on an old tree waning a against the tree, More pain, like bits fire and stabbings to my body as acid poured over my face.

Another attempt at scremiing and the result was a pained gurgle. My vision started to fade to darkness [i[How bloody cliche![/i] I rolled over and felt my arms go limp. I finallly gave in and let the sweet darkness take me.

Daybreak, November 22, 2007, Whateley Academy

For all the hard work the cooks and their staff were putting into a "traditional" Thanksgiving feast - for those who could safely eat one - it all fell a bit flat for Thomas "Valravn" Jensen. It wasn't so much that he'd pulled a midnight shift with his fellow "gamer", Sandra, the night before. It was more a result of the local dreamlands being polluted by well over a couple hundred homesick dreamers who couldn't afford to go home to be with family, didn't have any family left as wanted them anymore, or were forced to stay at school over the holiday thanks in part to the MCO. The previous day's overcast snowyish weather hadn't helped the whining humanlings.

On the last part, Sandra got a pass: snakes, and other reptiles that hadn't had the superior grace to evolve feathers, wings, and flight just weren't meant for winter outings.

Damn, could that girl whip her tail or what?

Maybe he shouldn't have expressed his sentiments out loud?

He'd still made sure she got to Whitman safely. He wasn't that much of an ass.


Still, the spirit's stolen memories of British Columbia and his own citizenship proclaimed that it wasn't Thanksgiving. Wrong month. Also, "Thanskgiving" as a personally relevant holiday to him revolved around a single mother and her oldest son good-naturedly battling for elbow-room in the kitchen, while the youngest son tried to sound him out as a prospective mate for his brother (amidst anxious double-checks that the local emergency room was still on speed-dial at every thump and crash coming from the kitchen).

Luckily, the weather changed in the early morning hours as a fresh, sharp, north wind blew in. It left the sky clean of any clouds - a jet black backdrop to the the stars beyond it. For those with other senses, the north winds carried a bit of Canadian tundra gossip to be shared out after a cheerful mock battle against the snow clouds to be swept out to sea. The best part, maybe, was that the Thunderbird's Song had such company all to himself: too cold for Sandra, Fubar too busy with homesick kids luring nasties up from the lower planes, and the humidity crashing to the point the watch sergeant sent Mads to Doyle after his second or third nosebleed.

The young man stepped out of Poe Cottage's empty foyer with a pair of boots slung over his shoulder, and promptly lost his footing on the iced-up steps. He chose to land a few feet clear of the concrete annoyances.

< Amateur. You're supposed to fall, not glide! >

< What can I say? I'm a poor excuse for a human. Whoever designed these ankles should be shot. >

< That's why they wear boots this time of year. Warmer too. >

Boots would have been a better choice.

< So. Whatchou doin'? >

< I am going skating. >

< Alone? Borrrring. >

< Besides, nothing's really frozen over yet. You'll get wet! Water's cold enough to be lethal though. >

< Speaking of which... >

Thomas pulled out a cell phone and punched in some numbers. "... don't forget to call Evie and Lars this morning. Give them my best, etc. I'm out at the lake, bring skates if you want." There. That should cover all applicable bases after Kristian's comment about 'turning Swedish' at dinner.

---

Kane Hall

One of the sensor techs pulled up an infrared scan from one of Securities drones. They were beginning to prove quite useful. For example:

"Sarge! It looks like someone's gotten an early start on our ice-fishing season. Heat signature's fairly weak out on the lake, but if it's a student?"

The watch sergeant answered for the tech. "They could be entirely safe, or dying of hypothermia. I know. Let's see who we can send out that can do some good."

"Too bad the Betas aren't up."

"Could we not call them that? Bad enough for morale all the other kids do. Let's see. Jensen's in Doyle again..."

"What happened this time?"

"Officially? Nosebleeds from the dry air. Unofficially, it wasn't just his sinuses. I got it from last watch that one of the new guys lost it when Jensen tried to blow his nose clear, trashed his collar, and splattered blood onto the next desk."

"Ew."

"Tell me about it. Looks like we go with option Charlie."


Lake and Recreation Area

A human figure flew in from the direction of the rising sun (in case Security had caught an intruder instead of a student) but wasn't too surprised that the tactic failed. The darker figure seen out on the lake came to a graceful stop and seemed to await the newcomer in a whirlwind of freezing spray. Truly a waste of the selection from "Tosca" that continued playing from the public address system. No choice now but to continue on approach.

Once Lady Astarte was close enough to address the young man she asked, "Doesn't figure skating traditionally require ice beneath the blades?"

"Ice dancing traditionally does, yes."

"A partner as well. Or has he already gone under?"

"No, no. I've no shortage of partners this morning." Opening her mystical senses, Elizabeth could see that there was indeed no shortage of air spirits gathered. Some annoyed. Some amused. Some... whatever air sprites used in place of straightforward emotion. "Care to join me? I believe that a waltz is up next on the playlist."

It was tempting, but also a bad idea. "Curious. Of the two of you I would have thought Mads to be the one skating."

"The ice is thin enough in case he falls. Neither of us had really tried ice skating before, er, recent events, but he needed to build up his endurance with something less risky than usual." The figure, having resolved more to his 'Thomas' form, shrugged his shoulders. "This gives me a chance to reconnect with my own element, so to speak."

"Then I shall leave you to that. Please try to avoid luring any others out who cannot fly over the water like you can."

"It's American Turkey Day. They'll have to get stuffed first."

"You know what I mean."

With that, Lady Astarte flew back off to change into something a bit more conventional and to reassure Security know. Although she'd taken to the ice more than once in her midwestern youth, unlike her student, she'd never ventured out in Arctic winds cold enough to generate slabs of ice under her feet.


Later

"Um, T? Why are there ice cubes bobbing in the lake?"

"I've been out here having fun while you slept in."

"Waa. You're not the one having to keep my doctors happy."

"You don't do a very good job of it, so don't bitch to me about that."

"There is that. So! Got anything good cued up?"

"How about the Spice Girls?"

"How about we don't?"


Thanksgiving dinner, Mezzanine level, Crystal Hall

Abelyn Elliott wouldn't have credited the sight if she hadn't been living here for the past couple of months. She looked down toward the cafeteria entrance pointed out by Kristian, to see two red-faced boys stumble in in their school uniforms - both of which looked to be drier than the two wearing them.

"Kris, do I want to know how those two maniacs manage to waltz in looking like they've run a marathon and only just showered on the way over?"

She barely avoided giggling when the shorter one shoulder-checked the taller on the way to the food line.

"Are they in handcuffs?"

"No."

"It should be safe to ask one of them. Maybe."

Not much later, Abelyn saw Aquerna scamper off to intercept Miasmi headed for the exit. "Ummm, Kris? What's up with the Underdogs?"

Rorsmand looked over at the two spooked sophomores near the door. One seemed to be trying to calm the other down before the meal could be interrupted by a hazardous material breach.

"Let's hope Thomas at least showered before they got here." He paused. No. They wouldn't. Would they? Kristian could imagine a scene in which they did - far, far too easily. "On second thought, let's not encourage them to tell us what they've been up to, and count as a blessing the fact we don't yet know."

"They wouldn't!"

Kris raised an eyebrow in counter-question.

"They didn't!"

"I'm guessing things go a bit differently in Kentucky?"

Once the two boys under discussion approached the semi-isolated table, provoking a couple of other departures and relocations, Kristian took in their still-flushed faces, and asked, "Who won?"

Mads made a show of adjusting his tie before responding with "I'm blaming Canada, but Geeks over Freaks, 2 to 1."

At Smithy's puzzled look (she must've spent much of the day in the Workshop) Rorsmand translated, "Emerson, Dickinson, and Poe over Whitman, Twain, and Hawthorne, final score 2 to 1, because no one thought to even out the Canadian hockey nuts beforehand."

(This was inspired by Elrod when he made this comment:
I'm not going to speculate on strange ways you might bring her back. All I'm going to say is that you depressed me because the character was one that I was - not relating, I guess because I don't have things bursting out of my chest - but her awkwardness, feeling a little different, wanting to be accepted. Overall, Lucy is a character that I was starting to care about. Then you did Domoviye-class things to her and - wow, that was depressing.
My mind started working away at it and a minute or two later I had this idea)


Kayda almost turned around when she saw Teri sitting on Dr. Bellows' desk, thinking she had interrupted an appointment, but Dr. Bellows waved at her to come in.

"Hello Kayda," he said, "I know you're getting your angst under control, but one of the devisors has created a new devise that I think will help with your situation."

"OK, if you say so. But why is Teri here?" Kayda asked.

"As one of the happiest students we currently have at Whateley she's agreed to donate some of her happiness to you, to counteract your angst. This is accomplished by an Angst Transferal Devise, which transfers happiness from one person and injects it into the other. This should, hopefully, help Teri overcome her more exuberant behaviour, while providing you the boost you need," Dr. Bellows explained. "Frankly it seems like a win-win situation."

"I'll do anything to help out Kitty boys sister!" Teri squeaked.

"Right... thanks Teri. So what do we do first?"

"First we need to see how much angst both of you have at this moment, than I can determine the proper amount to safely transfer between you. Kayda if you would," he said motioning to the reinforced angst measurement devise she'd used a few weeks previously.

A few moments later, the machine gave her a solid 7 angst rating. Not great, but not as bad as it had been the first time around.

"Now you Teri," Dr. Bellows said.

Teri helped him put the electrodes on her head and body, using a little bit of two sided tape to hold them in place. When the switch was thrown, the metal bar that wrote down the amount of angst clicked loudly against the metal bar and held steady at 10 angst.

Dr. Bellows and Kayda both stared at the reading in amazement. There was no way the fairy had that much angst.

Teri flew up still covered in electrodes to see the reading. "COOL I'M A TEN!!! I WIN! IN YOUR FACE KAYDA! WOOHOO!"

As Teri did a happy dance, Kayda looked at Dr. Bellows, "Does she even understand what angst is?"

Crumpling up the reading, Bellows threw it in the garbage. "I have no idea. I wonder who else could volunteer."

Dr. Tenant stopped short of walking through the department entrance, realizing that one of the Psychic Arts teachers, Dr. Carstaires, seemed to be watching. "Morning, Alton," she said, somewhat relieved that she would have an excuse for being late to the faculty meeting.

"Ophelia! How interesting to find you here today. Things going well in the Clinic, I hope?"

"Uh, yes, things are nice and quiet for once," she replied. Despite his pleasant demeanor, he seemed to be enjoying needling her, playing at the 'friendly' department rivalry regarding the department offices. He knew very well that she wasn't going to going in with anyone watching, but she was guessing that he could also see that she wasn't exactly looking forward to Al Feyez, who was had been pestering everyone about the Devisors. Again. With voices raised in the hallway, at Circe no less. Hakim was a great guy most of the time, but he could be really grating when he was on one of his personal kicks.

As if he'd read her mind - which, given how well known the issue was, he probably hadn't bothered with - Carstaires said, "You know, I always wondered why Al Feyez..." them feigning a thoughtful look, he retreated, saying, "no, perhaps I shouldn't mention it, the last thing he needs is more ammunition." He'd emphasized his the lingering Jamaican in his accent, when he wanted to entice someone's interest.

Ophelia sighed; she knew this game. "About what, pray tell?" she responded, playing her own accent up. That's how the game is played, after all.

"Ah, you see, I always wondered why he never pointed out that Devising is also like Magic," he paused for a moment, "in that it may be a more than just a mutant trait."

"All right, you have my attention now," she said after a few seconds thought, "What do you mean by that?"

"Well, just as there are baseline mages, whose abilities differ from those of Wizard mutants in the ease with which gathering Essence and work certain knacks is achieved, " another sly pause, "there are, too, baseline Devisors." he ended with a flourish.

Tenant puzzled over this for a moment, then replied, "Oh! You mean the Schimmer... uhm, I beg your pardon, Schimmelhorn Engineers? Are you suggesting that there is a deeper connection, then?"

Alton nodded. "There are mutant psychics, mutant mages, and now even mutant ki masters, all of which are enhancements of potentials which some baseline humans can achieve, either through training, as with mages and martial artists, or by happenstance, as seems the case with most baseline psychics such as myself. Many other mutant powers, too, are enhancements of abilities which, while often rare and wonderful, are within the potential of ordinary humanity, even if the mutants' abilities often exceed that potential. Why would Devising not be the same?"

Ophelia groaned inwardly; she could see where this was going. "Oh, for the sake of the Goddess, please don't point that out to Hakim! ", making the requisite response, then shifting to a more brusque mode of speech, "Seriously, we don't need that headache right now. Just tell me what favor Psychic Arts needs from us, already!"

Sitting back, with his feet on the desk, he watched his monitor as readouts and feeds came in. So, Carson had her people looking for him. He chuckled as he mused that they were looking in the wrong place. On another screen, he read an article from the Associated Press about increased fatalities due to animal attacks.

Indeed, Carson was looking in the wrong place. He smiled and pressed a button. On another screen, the face of that idiot from Humanity First appeared. His unwitting pawn.

"How does the testing go?", the mysterious man inquired.

"The hunting goes well, so far. Thirty four of the kills confirmed as mutants in 34 tests, no innocent human fatalities". From the other end of the communication, Rusty Webb only saw the words 'Audio Only' on his screen. He knew that the voice was being modulated, but he didn't care, as long as he got more of the creatures, he was satisfied. Rusty ran his fingers through the thinning hair. It had seemed like fate to him, through anonymous connections - a friend of a friend of a friend, and so forth. Now he had the weapons of his revenge against those gene-filth monsters that had killed his family in the crossfire.

Rusty closed his eyes, he could see the battle as it spilled out into the park. That bitch with the wand, firing shots at some giant scaly monster. The creature swatting at her, as she circled around it. It shot flames from its mouth, trying to kill the gene-trash. She had had brought it there to the very field that he was having a picnic with Emmy, Jason, and Todd. Of course it was her fault when they got caught in the crossfire.

He could see her now, that blonde slut in her skin-tight outfit. One day he would find out what had happened to Lady Astarte, and he would kill her.

---

Once the call ended, the mysterious man smiled and pulled up some data on his screen. The testing of the weapons had been perfect, and he knew now that it would soon be time to strike his true objective.

Laughing, the man looked at the picture on the screen, his eyes fixated on the building on the screen, that unique combination of old-style New England architecture, and blended with modern, in the form of a giant glass dome.

Sunday 25th November 2007, Le Carnival's den, Whateley

“Hey, Bunsen, what's up?” Steven 'Capsule' McKenzie asked as he limped through the door to the den. He focused on making sure he made it down the stairs from the door correctly, while Sebastian kindly held the door open for him, before he lowered himself onto the recliner that he hadn't exactly 'earned', but was usually left for him, since it was nearest to the door. Fucking stairs. Before, they'd never have raised a thought in his head, but now he hated them with a passion, ever since he became a member of the 'physically disadvantaged.' And it was getting worse.

As the year tolled onwards towards Christmas, the weather had turned cold, and with it, the micro-fractures in his hip were aching, so he wasn't even having to do any acting to keep up any ruses with his aches and pains. It fucking sucked. His roommate Eddie was STILL being a little shit about it, and even worse, was being a supremely smug little bastard about the impending holidays. 'Oh, really Edward, you're going home to the fam? Good for you.' He managed to smile out, just because it took the wind out of the misshapen boy's sails to be nice about it. Even if he or his cousins could have spent the stupid amount of money to get a plane home, it's not like Stephen would have enjoyed the trip anyway.

Even when he'd been living with his father, and then later his step-father, his mother's side of the family had always gone to Grandma's for Christmas. The 'big, pure-blooded family' she stressed. There were family members missing there, he always knew, his Uncle and his Grandfather most prominently, but now? Now, the only family he had that would welcome him were those outcast members, for the same reason that they were the outcasts (because they had certain genes from Grandfather active, while his Grandmother, Mother, and Aunt, the fucking racist bigots, didn't have them.)

Yet even if they were more conventionally loving, that family still lived so near to the base, he could practically see the guns. Who wants to spend Christmas surrounded by the military? And his other aunt, the one with active genes, usually had to work some hours around the holiday, just like any other NHS staff.

Bunsen looked around before acknowledging him. They weren't the first ones into the den, as Ripple was off in a beanbag, 'enjoying' the gift he'd gotten from the MCO spy. But there was nobody else around to hear them. Ah. Oh good. This was either Blotter telling him that he was being officially cast out, or this was his chance to get back into the group's good graces.

“Um... you er... you can make more of... stuff, right?” The man from Montana nervously asked.

“Well, sure. But nothing you can't do either, once we back-trace it through the precursors. You need help in the lab or something?” Stephen replied.

Stephen had managed to carve himself a rather specific niche in the lab-coat crew, even though his 'illicit reputation' (THANKS, Leanna. Good job keeping quiet!) meant that he didn't get a lot of people asking for help, especially the girls. While he himself was also a gadgeteer, he was only a middle level, and not a very special one at that. But the manifesting abilities that had caused him trouble with the law, also meant that he could create chemical works far easier than his peers. By creating new substances by starting with the finished product and working backward, he'd already managed to create his first patentable work: A new kind of medicine that helped stabilise diabetics, that they could carry in their pocket. It was going to make him a mint if he could get someone interested. Phase still hadn't returned his calls yet, but he was hopeful!

Okay, sure, he still didn't have FDA approval, but the word from the EMA was good.

“It... it's not for the lab, no. You... remember that thing I helped Ripple with?” Of course he remembered it. The little blond shit had beaten him to the prize. While he wasted time backtracking his finished strawberries, Bunsen had cooked up a good enough concentrate from scratch. And while it probably was a good thing to keep out of the spy's eyes, he also knew just how awesome her stuff was. He'd been among the few on the paths when those three muscle-headed jerks had ganged up on her and put her in the hospital, and he'd been in the radius when she exploded her glamour. That. Had. Been. AWESOME. Oh how he wished he could approach her and ask about it, but he wasn't that stupid.

If the girl herself didn't have problems with it, Leanna fucking well would.

He'd felt bad at the time that security hadn't listened to his testimony, because beating the shit out of someone like that, wasn't good time feels for anyone. Three on one, from behind, in an ambush? That was just cowardly and low. That was the kind of thuggery that distinguished the people with honour from the trash. He likened it to the difference between his potion and some Frat boy using Rohypnol on a poor innocent girl.

But now that everyone knew she was a goddamn spy for the MCO? He didn't know. He could cope with the hero-crowd, being all uppity and harshing on his good times. It was expected. And he could cope with the villain crowd; they were, after all, just doing what they needed to, in order to free themselves from society's restrictions and bonds. But the MCO? They were the worst villains who pretended to be the best heroes. Why would anyone betray the 'mutant family' by joining them? He was looking forward to tomorrow's arena match, where he could watch the three muscle-heads and their girlfriend beat her up on an equal footing, and show her why Whateley didn't need any spies from the MCO.

“It's been difficult to ignore how happy the two of you were with the results, yeah.” He told Sebastian, in his most neutral voice. He didn't know if it was leading up to a carrot or stick moment, and you never want to rob yourself of the former to spare yourself the latter.

“Well.... I wanna know.... if you can help me recreate this.” And he pulled out from his lab-coat, a miniature green haired tinker-bell, trapped inside a glass bottle.

“Ah, Benjamin Franklin University,” Nick Harrow sighed with appreciation. “Two hundred years of scholarship, learning, research and science!” He looked around at the long 5-story brickwork buildings with their high gabled roofs. The Quad was gaily decorated for the college’s big anniversary, and they’d gone to some length gussying up the scaffolding for the repairs on the Physical Sciences building, even putting decorations on the crane. “It almost makes me wish that I hadn’t gone to Yale!” he added with a smirk.

“Yale…” Luke, a staunch MIT man, huffed dismissively. He was inconspicuous but uncomfortable in makeup, glasses and a wig that made him visible. “What does Yale produce, except politicians, lawyers and thieves?”

“Really!” Nick huffed back. “That was uncalled for! ‘Politicians and Lawyers’… Really!”

“Now, now, boys, you’re both on hostile territory, so you can save that for the nonentities that graduated from this dump,” Juliet Harrow chided her sons. Juliet had used Jessie’s gift of the Paragon Potion, but she had taken the ‘Silver Fox’ option over a return to her youth or prime. Now she was a timeless beauty who wore her silver tresses with panache and made graceful concession to her years with a few laugh lines and crow’s feet, even as she exuded a sex appeal that complimented her age-earned panache and sophistication. Before, she had been redoubtable; now she was dangerous.

“What’s going on?” Asha asked, looking around curiously from her position of unaccustomed height, riding astride her father’s shoulders.

“It’s the school’s bicentennial,” Mara explained to her youngest. “That’s like this school’s 200th birthday. What they’re celebrating is that 200 years ago today, they put up THAT statue of Benjamin Franklin,” she pointed at a bronze figure on a pedestal in the middle of the quad. The figure portrayed a familiar portly balding man in colonial era clothing, supporting himself with a walking stick. The statue was festooned with bright wide ribbons with ‘200 years’, ‘Happy Birthday, Ben!’ and other anniversary slogans on them. “That statue was put up on the day of the college’s official founding, and they chose Benjamin Franklin for the name of the school, because they thought that Dr. Franklin best embodied the spirit of scholarship, community and enterprise they wanted for their school.”

“That, and the Franklin name was still famous enough that it had snob appeal,” JD added with the snide cynicism of a teenager.

“Wasn’t there some noise in the newsblogs about that statue being very valuable?” Jessie asked from her position overseeing her two younger brothers.

“Why would a stupid old statue be valuable?” Bart asked with the brutal candor of a 9-year-old.

“Because it was sculpted by William Rush, who is considered the first great American sculptor,” Nick explained to his youngest son. “I hear that the college has taken out a 10-million-dollar insurance policy on it.”

“Isn’t Benjamin Franklin University losing money?” JD asked snidely.

“Why do you think they’re making such a fuss about establishing such a high price tag for an eminently replaceable ornament?” his father riposted.

Then there was an explosion, and a plume of smoke rose up from behind one of the long buildings. “Oh, it looks like the Science Building is going up in flames,” Nick commented calmly as most of the visitors hurried to go rubberneck.

“Ah, good old Potassium Chlorate…” Luke sighed nostalgically.

“I helped mix the bombs!” Vic said with pride. “Just enough tear gas to keep anyone from breathing in the toxic fumes!” Luke clapped an avuncular hand on his shoulder.

“Oh, look, something’s happening with that crane,” Juliet noted off-handedly. The crane, which was set up for the ongoing repairs to the Humanities building, swung out over the quad, placing the boom directly over the statue of Franklin. Then it dropped the massive hook. Riding down on the hook were four figures in red. When they touched down, the woman in the long red coat with matching wide-brimmed hat steadied the hook, and the two of the men in red overalls adjusted the ‘congratulatory ribbons’ so they secured the statue more soundly, and the last one applied what looked like a caulking gun to the seal that affixed the statue to the base.

“Oh, they finessed a bunch of hoisting straps onto the statue disguised as celebration ribbons,” Mara said. “Nice touch!”

Then the young lady in red noticed something and brought a large multi-configuration energy weapon out from under her coat. “And here comes Security,” Nick drawled with a touch of amusement as four uniformed Campus Police officers ran up, guns drawn.

“Cue the red cloud,” Juliet said wryly. And indeed, a cloud of mist the exact same shade of red as the woman’s coat and her henchmen’s overalls billowed out, concealing the scene. There were the sounds of sharp discharges, and when the fog cleared, the Campus Police were on the ground.

“Does shooting Campus Police count as a Cop Killing?” Jessie asked without concern.

“I’m not sure about the Campus part,” Nick admitted, “but it doesn’t count, if it’s a non-lethal weapon.”

Then seven colorful figures appeared in a reinforcing formation. “Stop cutting the foundation, Scarlet!” Mr. Fixit shouted over the sounds of his jetpack. “You shouldn’t have mocked us with that large red faux $200 bill on our door!”

“Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn!” Nick and Luke said in near perfect chorus as they did bad ‘Clark Gable as Rhett Butler’ impressions.

Miss Scarlet’s trademark cloud billowed up to cover the scene again. As the Sensational Seven dived in, Juliet wondered, “How are they doing this? I thought that Vivian and Jessie stole both their power units and the backups.”

“I’m guessing that Fixit had bled off a major dynamorph bud, and he’s using that to power those mockup units,” Luke said, leaning forward with curiosity, studying the harnesses that the various members of the S7 were wearing. Well, when that red cloud let him. “But I’ll lay you odds that Fixit and his goons are more here to get their gimmicks back than stop a crime. Those things they’ve got on can’t be very effective. Heck, if I was ‘Major Speed’, I’d be very worried about what that was doing to my heart.”

Then there was a blare of ‘The Stars and Stripes Forever’, and All-American Girl leapt up on a garbage can, striped cape waving like a flag and said, “I gotch now, you Commie Bitch! Now you face good ol’ AMERICAN JUSTICE!”

“Who IS that daring young paragon of Patriotic Virtue?” Mara gushed- as she held Jessie’s coat.

With a whoop, All-American Girl spun her golden lasso and leapt into the fog and fray. Following what happened was difficult, given the thick fog, but you got a rough idea of where people were by calls, cries of pain, and the constantly moving ‘Stars and Stripes Forever’. Asha let out a noise of confusion as she saw the statue that was the bone of contention lift out of the fog up to the crane, then pulled back to the Humanities building, and lowered. When the red cloud dissipated, the scene was dominated by All-American Girl bickering loudly with Mr. Fixit that Miss Scarlet was HER Arch-Enemy, and SHE had dibs!
*****

Later, at the lounge in the lair complex under the Harrow homestead, Nick asked his eldest daughter, “So, where’s the statue?”

“Still in the Humanities building,” Viv answered, her trademark red coat over the back of her chair and her hat on the table in front of her. “In the Balkan Cooperative Activities room. I could leave it there, and nobody’d find it for years!”

“Not bad,” Nick drawled, nodding. “Not a classic, but not bad.”

“You don’t look happy, dear,” Mara said.

“Three of my guys are in the hospital, and two more have broken arms or ribs!”

“I thought you had equipped them with PFGs.”

“I did.”

A shared wince went around the room, with the sole exception of Asha. “Take the lesson, kids,” Nick said in his best patriarchal manner. “Superheroes get very nasty when you threaten their bottom line.”

“And I didn’t need you to get my guys out of there!” Vivian glowered at Jessie.

“I had good reasons,” was all that Jessie said.

“Still, with the standard 5% of the Insured Value from the Insurance Company, I can afford to get them the best off-the-books medical attention. The second the Insurance company wires the ransom to my iPayoff account, I’m sending the funds to their Rent-a-Thug HMO to cover everything! Five hundred Thou buys a LOT, and I can cover all my costs and still have enough for Whateley.” She finished with a triumphant smile.

Nick screwed up his face with an uncomfortable grimace. “aaahhh… Sorry, Hon, but on the way home, I called a few people, to see if I couldn’t find you a better deal. But it turns out that the report that the University bought a 10 million dollar policy was mostly PR.”

“WHAT?” Viv yelped.

“Oh, there was a policy,” Nick assured her. “But it was for only 4 Mil.”

Vivian hurriedly calculated 5% of 4 million and rattled off her expenses. After paying her henchmen’s medical bills, vehicle costs, bribes (“You got took, honey”) and other overhead, she only pulled down $50K. “Fifty K? I went through all of that for 50 grand? I can’t go to Whateley on only fifty thousand!”

It was a little tense around the table, so Mara changed the topic. “So, Johnny, what did you score?”

“Score?” Viv scowled at her brother, “What do you mean, ‘score’?”

“The second that Jessie slipped off for her turn as ‘All-American Girl’, JD went off on his own,” Juliet explained. “What was that about?”

JD nodded and left the room with a smirk on his face. When he came back, he still had the smirk on his face, his ‘Phantom Highwayman’ coat draped over his shoulders, the tricorn set on the back of his head, and a large but thin square crate. Setting it down on the table, he popped open the top and pulled out a painting. Turned around, it turned out to be a portrait of Benjamin Franklin. “Why it’s our ol’ buddy, Ben!”

“So, it’s a picture of Ben Franklin,” Vic scowled, disappointed. “So what?”

“It’s a picture of Ben Franklin, painted by Gilbert Stuart!” JD said with a grin. “I knew that the President of BFU had this in his outer office, and it was wired seven ways to Sunday-”

“But you also knew that Campus Police and Security would already have all their systems on five bells and a klaxon, so you just ghosted into his office and walked off with it?” Juliet asked with a note of approval in her voice.

“Not quite- I took a picture the current president’s immediate predecessor from the halls and swapped that out for this,” JD said. “So, when they do spot the switch, they’ll think that it was an undergraduate prank or something.”

Vic made a rule noise. “AND? So it’s a painting by Gilbert Stuart. Who’s Gilbert Stuart?”

“Gilbert Stuart was a famous painter,” Nick said as he studied the portrait, looking for signs of forgery or copy. “He painted the portraits of a lot of the Founding Fathers. Most famously, he painted the official portrait of George Washington, which was the model for the picture used on the One Dollar bill.” Vic, Bart and Asha looked at their father. “It’s worth a LOT of money,” he summed up.

“Yeah, I did it on the spur, so I’m not sure how much that bad boy’s worth,” JD said as he slouched down into a chair in an insolent pose with one leg over an arm and an arm draped over the back and shot a smug look at his sister.

“Why did you bother?” Viv snarled, “You’re already set for life!”

“Well, at least set for college,” JD allowed. “And why didn’t Warren Buffet quit after he made his first billion?” Then, seeing that his father was using a gPhone, JD asked, “So, how much is this worth?”

“Well, the Selfridge’s™ rating is $450,000 +/- 4%,” Nick read off. JD gave a triumphant ‘hey-yeah!’ “But the Blackmarket.com™ rating is $25,000, and I don’t know whether the University insured that or not, and even if they did, it would still only be $22,5000.”

“What?” JD yipped, “Twenty-five measly GRAND? For a STUART?”

“Jay-Dee, you have to remember that the black market in stolen artwork has always been cutthroat, even by Black Market standards. Besides, that is a unique, by definition easily identifiable, and it has limited appeal outside the US. Son, it’s a painting that was in the office of a president of a third string college that’s going broke. Twenty-five large for five minutes’ work with no prep or overhead is damn good, even by supervillain standards.”

JD slumped down in his chair and grumped. Viv shot him a ‘nyeh!’ across the table. Then she shot a superior look at Jessie and said, “Well, it looks like someone’s bringing up the rear!”

“Yeah,” Jessie said through an arch grin as she got up. “Mom? Would you get your magic kit, and prep a preservation spell?” Mara blinked with surprise, but nodded. “Uncle Luke would you get a laser cutter?”

About ten minutes later, as Mara was preparing her spell, Jessie came back carrying a large greenish box, somewhere in size between a banker’s box and a foot locker, by an odd circular device. She settled the box on the table with a surprisingly light thump. “What’s that?” Bart, being of an age where he could ask such things without losing face, asked.

“This is the Time Capsule, which was stashed in the base of Ben Franklin’s statue,” Jessie answered.

“A Time Capsule,” Juliet told Asha, (so that Bart and Vic could listen in), “is a box that people put things in and bury, so that people years, even centuries later, can find and dig them up. Every now and again, we find time capsules from the Ancient Greeks and Romans. People put things in these capsules that they think people in the future will find interesting, like journals and documents and persona pictures and so on.”That box is made of bronze, which doesn’t rust easily and the lid is sealed with lead, which keeps air out.”

“Yeah, which is why I asked Mom to prepare that Preservation Spell,” Jessie said as she disengaged the contraption from the top of the box. “This Time Capsule was put in the base of that statue during the Founding Ceremony, and it hasn’t seen the light of day in 200 years. I don’t want what I think is in there to hit fresh oxygen without something to keep it from, I don’t know… does cotton burst into flames?”

Mara nodded, and performed a short ritual, which consisted of lighting some candles on the lid, breaking a small hour glass and doodling a design in the fine red powder that spilled out. When Mara said she was finished and cleared the top of the lid, Luke cut the lead seal around the lid and carefully removed the very heavy lid. Peering inside, the Harrows saw the familiar sight of a folded American flag, with 13 stars in the Continental Circle showing. But there were dull silver disks sewn onto the stars. Gently shoving her immediate kin aside, Jessie pulled out a jeweler’s loupe and examined the coins intently. At first, she just made a few grunts, but then she yelled, “YES! SCORE!” at the top of her lungs. Then she returned to her study, grunted a couple more times, and yelled, “DOUBLE SCORE!” Then a couple of ‘YES!’es, a few more grunts and then, “TRIPLE SCORE!” Then she finished with a few more happy but not elated grunts. She finished off by giving a triumphant grin and pump of a fist, and yelled, “Score One For RESEARCH!”

“Good News?” Nick asked acerbically.

“THESE,” Jessie jabbed her finger at two of the coins, “are 1794 Silver Dollars and this one is a 1795 Silver Dollar.”

There was a general reaction of ‘AND?’ from the collected family.

“Look, Congress only gave the government permission to mint coins in 1792, and 1794 was the first year they actually minted any. The rest of these,” she twirled a finger around the circled stars, “are from 1797, 1800, 1802, 1803, 1805 and 1806, and they’re worth maybe One or Two Million each-”

“One or Two? MILLION? Each?” Juliet repeated, boggled by the staggering amounts of money right at hand.

“But Silver Dollars from 1794 and 1795 are INCREDIBLY RARE and valuable!” Jessie continued. “They are the HOLY GRAIL of American Numismatism!”

“’Numismatism’ means ‘coin collecting’,” Juliet explained to Asha.

Jessie summed it up with, “A few years ago, a 1794 Silver Dollar in Good condition sold for $30 million.”

The entire family, from Asha to Mara, just stared wide-eyed at the boggling amount of wealth right in front of them. “Thirty? Million? Dollars?” Viv peeped, “For just one of them?”

“YEAH,” Nick cut through the shock, “but it’s a collectable, and collectables are always weird. ONE is invaluable; two is not-so-invaluable. Jayj- Jessie, how did you know about this?”

“Well, when Viv started researching the statue, there was a passing mention that there was a time capsule,” Jessie explained. “That that was IT. I knew that people put things like books and coins along with the family bibles and books of sermons and other junk, so I figured there might be a few things with real collectible value in there. So I went to the Montclair Historical Society and found a couple of newspapers from that time that covered the founding of the college. From what I picked up, a few of the college’s founders were HUGE Benjamin Franklin fan-boys-”

“Big Shock,” Luke sneered from the sidelines.

“-because the newspapers said that besides the usual junk, they put a collection of Benjamin Franklin’s private papers in there.”

The family around the table went silent with shock again. “Benjamin Franklin? Private Papers? That haven’t been seen for Two Hundred Years?” Nick gasped.

“The second I read that, I just HAD to find out what was inside here!” Jessie rapped the side of the time capsule.

“What’s IN there?” Mara gasped, trying to peer through the red-white-and-blue cotton.

“Don’t know,” Jessie admitted. “The newspaper said that the stars were sewn with silver dollars coined in the year of Franklin’s death. But Ben died in 1791, and the first coins were struck in 1794, so I guessed that fake news was nothing new. I figured that if I was lucky, there’d be ONE of the 1794 dollars, and the rest would be 1806 or 1807 dollars, and it would still be a major score- but THREE?” she waved that aside. “But this is the icing on the cake. Let’s see what the cake looks like.”

Not trusting her hands to handle the 200-year-old cotton, Jessie gingerly levitated the flag out of the time capsule. Juliet provided some chemically neutral gloves for Jessie. “Let’s see… someone’s family bible… big shock… the college’s original charter… a vanity press book of sermons… why are there always books of sermons in these things? Huh, a piece of scrimshaw… Someone’s glasses… What I think is a novel I never heard of… Oh!” She pulled out a leather portfolio. “Ah! Yes, these must be the Franklin private papers they were talking about.” Jessie carefully looked through them. “Oh yeah, I could see a collector creaming in his jeans over these,” she gloated. Then her eyes went wide. “Oh. My. God.” She pulled out a broad but thin book bound in rich brown leather with ‘BF’ monogrammed on the cover. She opened it up, and flipped through the pages, her face rapt with awe and terror. Looking at her family, who were looking back at her with riveted curiosity, she said, “This. Is. Benjamin Franklin’s. Guest Book… From Philadelphia… during the Second Continental Congress…”

“You’re KIDDING!” Nick gasped, taking the book from her hands with his own psychokinesis. Looking through the book, he said, “Ben Franklin was the Wise Old Man of the Revolution! EVERYBODY visited Franklin when the Second Continental Congress was in session! Everybody! Yes, Washington, Jefferson, Hamilton, Adams, Madison, Monroe, Hancock… and a bunch of people I don’t recognize, but have probably still had a dozen books written about them. Holy Grail? This is the Ark of the Covenant of autograph hunters!”

“Y’know, if we could return this to them, it could solve BFU’s money problems for the next century!” JD pointed out. A look went around the table: ‘Nah, fuck ‘em,’ was the general consensus.

“So, Jessie,” Juliet said, pulling the conversation out of the benumbed haze it had fallen into, “this is your score. Do you have any ideas as to what you’re going to do with all this?”

Jessie sat back and thought intently for a moment. “Well… the Flag, the coins and the guest book? They’re too big. Too much money, too many crazy people, too many things that could go seriously wrong. We’ll keep them as family treasures.” Nick kicked back and regarded his daughter with a paternal pride that almost lit up the room, and Mara was almost as pleased. “Besides, the bragging rights are worth it. But the other Franklin papers?”

“Let me have them,” Nick said with a smug grin. “The potentials for creative chaos are… staggering! I’ll cut you in for a percentage of the take.”

“Yes, do,” Mara said. “They’ll keep him out of mischief.”

“Better,” Juliet said with a mother-to-mother tone, “it will keep him in profitable mischief.”

“Hey!” Vic piped up, “What about US?”

“Yeah!” Bart stood by his brother, united against the adult menace. “We helped, we get a share!”

“What did you two termites do?” Viv demanded, sour at being so completely eclipsed.

As one, Bart and Vic held up cell phones, which blared out ‘The Stars and Stripes Forever’.

“I needed to get at the base after you removed the statue, before anyone saw what was in there,” Jessie explained. “Your red cloud was a perfect cover, but I needed that people thought that I was out there doing something besides emptying out the base. So I had those two running around, playing ‘’the Stars and Stripes Forever, so everyone would think that I was bopping around, kicking ass.”

“What?” Viv demanded. “There was a battle royal going on! They could have gotten killed!”

Jessie gave her sister a ‘oh, give me a break’ look. “It’s Vic and Bart! No matter what, they would have gotten into trouble. My way, they were getting into useful trouble!” Vic and Bart started badgering Jessie for some sort of pay, so she looked down into the time capsule and saw something. “Perfect!” She reached down and pulled out a handful of coins. “This is what I was expecting in the first place. Besides the big, important, significant stuff, people will throw stuff like handkerchiefs, and flowers, and loose change into these time capsules. But when you’re talking about loose change from a time capsule buried 200 years ago, it gets interesting.” She picked through the change and handed Vic and Bart a coin each.

“A Penny?” Vic asked with a note of ‘are you effing kidding me?’

“A penny from 1805!” Jessie pointed out. “And it’s in… reasonable… condition. Like I said, pocket change. But this is pocket change worth…”

“1085 copper ‘seated Liberty’ penny in used condition,” JD read off from his own gPhone, “there’s an asking price on EBay for $14,700.”

“Fourteen GRAND?” Vic and Bart chorused, bright-eyed. Seeing the potentials for disaster in giving those two access to that kind of money, Mara stepped in and arranged for both of them to get one of the Franklin documents each, to keep and eventually sell to fund either their educations or finance a ‘business opportunity’ (what kind of business, she left unsaid), and three coins from the time capsule; one to keep in a case for bragging rights, one to eventually sell to finance their educations, and one to sell to finance… whatever.

“And what about ME?” Asha demanded with an adorably fierce scowl.

“Asha, this isn’t a family thing where everybody gets one,” Jessie explained. “This is a score, and I’m paying my minions.”

“I AM NOT A MINION!” Vic roared.

“Then I don’t have to pay you?” Jessie snatched the coin from his hand.

“Yes, you have to pay me!” Vic yelled, snatching the coin back. “I’m an Independent Sub-Contractor!” He pointed at Bart. “He’s MY minion.”

This, of course, instigated an immediate brawl. As Vic and Bart tried to pummel the other into fraternal subjugation, Viv slumped and sneered at JD. “At least I outdid YOU. Twenty-two grand… HAH!”

Casually watching Bart and Vic to keep it from getting out of hand, Nick said, “I’m sorry, Viv, but you’re bringing up the rear on this one.”

“What?”

“Honey, money isn’t the final measure of an operation. JD saw an opportunity, jumped on it, and made the most of it. You had the advantages of the initiative and weeks of planning, but you blew a golden opportunity!”

“What golden opportunity?”

“Viv, you still have Iron Ox’s power harness! You could have just walked off with that statue in the middle of the night!”

Telluride, CO

Gracia picked at the remnants of her egg bagel and peanut butter with her ruby-coated nails while customers came and went in the coffee shop. She crossed her legs and settled back to finish her coffee, occasionally tapping at her phone. Whoever thought of fleece-lined leggings deserved a raise or a new house or something.

Still, she spotted the little prick as he entered. Trying to live up to Telluride's past? Young, thin, jittery. You didn't get the burly confident ones out here. Just the weasel-like predators. They were like coyotes. Capable in groups, just loser opportunists on their own. Prey on ski tourists or music festival goers, scrape enough cash to get to their next fix. In her line of work, you got good at judging their determination and relative danger just by the way they walked in a room.

As he walked up to the counter to make his move, Gracia adjusted the socks in her over-the-knee boots, and removed her scarf. It wasn't her normal work wear, but what do you expect? She was on vacation. She rolled up the sleeves of her sweater before deciding that her full abilities would make too much of a mess. She took a big sip of her coffee and slipped her leather gloves on instead, just in time for the little prick to pull out his gun.

Normally, robbers waited for these kind of places to be empty. Guess he was even dumber than she expected.

"Open the register."

Gracia shook her head. This was one of those trendy cafes that used a tablet that flipped back and forth between the staff and customers. There might be a cashbox behind the counter though. The 20-something behind the counter, temptation wrapped in hair gel and a deliberate stubble, equally confused about the request, hesitated before stammering that they somehow only took cards. Oh well, nobody's perfect, Gracia mused.

While the would-be robber choked on that the barista dove for the safety behind the monstrous espresso machine. The gun twisted towards her, and Gracia made her move. A flash of blond hair, and she was right behind the little prick who was ruining her relaxing morning. One arm hooked around to grab him by the throat, while the other grabbed his gun arm. A knee was soon ground into his back, and with a little squeeze, the radius and ulna of his arm became one. He never got a shot off, if the damn thing was even loaded in the first place.

Gracia thought he might have passed out right then and there. She left him on the floor, and returned to her seat to gather her scarf and tote.

As she walked out, she heard the barista burble out, "Omigawd, are you a superhero or something?"

Gracia gave the girl her professional smile, and watched as the girl's excitement dipped back into uncertainty.

"Or something."

Part 4 - Dreams of the Mutant Kind

This is the part of the story where exposition usually reveals itself in some long dragged out way. Oh no, you are totally getting that, but I wanted to preface that my story doesn't mak shit sense without it. Darkness took me (I already covered that, right?) and my body turned cold. I felt like something was dragged me into cold water and I was slowly drowning. Even as I blacked out I wanted to cough and sputtered as I felt my lungs laboring for air. After an eternity as these things always feel I was finally under and a world of confusion welcomed me.

Flashes of information passed before my sight and my body was bombarded by a serious of familiar and yet alien experiences. The first was strangest of them all. An image of terrible thing, a bastard of creation against all sin and prohibition. The death of the rulers, and the renting of the world as it was known. A strange portal and finding myself chained to a table as a wise man carrying a staff lorded over me. The chains burned my skin, iron, why was it iron! I screamed as I cursed them in the mother tongue of my clan. The figure was like me, my kin, and yet he used a contract of essence fo enforce a bn against my line.

I was made a vassal and seethe as the iron bit deeper into my flesh. I then found myself bending the knee before a grand old king with a strange antlered crown and a silver arm.

"You are now war-caste, and the carrier of the Broken Bough,"

I sighed as life eclipsed my thoughts again became a restless sea of whirling thoughts and shredded memory. Again I was ordered to battle and after losing against a proud prince I was angry. His stupid face was all I could think about as I used my lore to shift from mortal to raven form and take to the skies. For years I tracked him, planning my revenge. And I would have it dammit, by the Ancients! By my kith and clan I would rend his flesh with my talons and I would-

"FUCKING HELL!" my eyes snapped open. A hangover of epic proportions met me like a hated frenemy just as my tried to moved. I can say right now that even my hair hurt, and I could barely move let alone breathe. My chest wobbled more than it did earlier. Another new bra, and my funds were already limited. I lay on that fucking terrible carpet covered in thick layers of sweat an in pain for about an hour. I fixed my eyes on my door and let my mind wander. I tired to pick apart the images I had sene and derive some sort of meaning from them.

First, Iron equals pain made me think faeries which wasn' exactly surprising. If this was related (which it's kind of obvious it is by now) to mirror bitch I was dealing with a half-dead fae. Okay, the deal made sense then, and her talking to me in a mirror. She must be in some sort of alternate plane and needed my body to maintain herself. That was fiction 101 when it came to fucking spirits like this, especially since I ate all and any book I got my hands in related to mythology.

Second, her weird belted skirt in the mirror look liked some straight out of one of my pagan metal band albums. Long sleeves that draped at a slight diagonal angle from the lower arm. I recognized bits and pieces of the strange words she spoke when we first met and something from the dream. It reminded me of gaelic for some reason, but was far older than I could put together. Goddess, this was all to damn familiar.

"What did she do to me?" I was finally able to croak aloud. After the hour finally passed I felt whatever was holding my movement was gone. It still hurt to actually move, but I was able to slowly force myself to sit up. I was far away from the mirror just out of view. I could see that my legs were far more shapely than before which to a trans girl like me was a bonus. I shifted and noted the new cup-size I now sported, a large b-cup at least. Not super big, but nice, which meant I could keep the pretty bras.

I slowly rose to shaky feet (which were definitely a size eight now, yes I can get shoes mor easily!) and pulled myself onto my bed sat up on the edge to get a good view of myself in the mirror. Good news, I still had some good muscle defintion and even more than before. Gone was my slight paunch and now what met e was a muscled flat stomach spreading into wide hips. My arms were presented a nice level of defintion when I flexed. I could feel the lean honed warrior born muscles and felt muscle memory coming back as my arms easily shifted into the standard shield and spear defensive pose.

"So am I her or?" I then decided to get a better look at my face. Well good news, I didnt look completely likeher, and instead had inherited a few other traits. My eyes were now a strange fuschia color ringed with a few strange flecks of silver. Then there was my hair it was long and a strange ombre of obsidian at the roots and turned to an almost fire-llike gradient to the tips. That was just weird, were my roots actually going to light or what the hell (I still dont know).

My face was the stereotypical heart shaped face with a slight hawkish overtone. I had a sharp nose and cheekbones giving me a weird avian beauty. My ears were pointed like an elf which were strange since mirror girl's ears were definitely the normal alfar type. My lips were blood red, like the color of freshly drawn blood which was just creepy.

"So, do I got to the local MCO or hide it," I muttered without really thinking. I turned around to get a look at my bac and happily noted that my large tattoo was still present. It covered my arm and half of my shoulder blade, the Goddess Morrigan bearing her spear and surrounded by rolling Celtic scrollwork. I, of course, got a good look at my bum and noted with satisfaction it was definitely rounder than before and I could likely bounce a nickel off it.

I was officially pole dancing worthy on the muscle level.

Now that I had a decent idea of what I was, I had to figure out what I was going to do. I was definitely much younger looking, and I was not going to meet any requirements for my previous identity easily. Alright, I was up shit creek without a paddle and now a hottie to boot. One dream met, one life also fucked up.

Now what?

I had barely enough money for clothing, and now I was needing an entire new wardrobe. I wasn't going to bug my sister with this as she was barely making ends meet as it is. I need more information about mirror girl, and figure out what I was going to do about work. I sighed, bit my lip, and grabbed a towel hanging off my office chair before heading into the bathroom for a shower. At least here, I would be alone for long enough to get a proper shower in.

Inside I checked my privates to find, I was almost a girl down there as much as I could wish. There was more to change (great more pain), but I was far enough along I was done with my gaff underwear for a while. Hot water began the cleansing I need of the layers of sweaet from my last change and while it was on the highest setting my skin didn't note a pained response. The exact opposite, in fact, it felt good, really good. I wondered if I had some kind of high level of regeneration. That or I was just more resistant to pain than before.

I spent a good amount of time scrubbing my skin and face, before I then shampooed my hair. I finished up with some leftover conditioner from a former roommate and wrapped up my new mane to dry. I rubbed my body and pulled the towel around me as I head back to my room.

Now, I was going to corner that bich and get some bloody answers!

===

She didn't come right away like last time. Instead I found myself staring into the mirror again for half an hour and when nothing happened I just screame. I was made, very mod. A rush of energy pent up in form and unable to be released. Not rennui, the exact opposite. Whereas ennui was listlessness, this was a form of beguilment, I need to speak to her. Goddess, I nearly struck the mirror with a fist before I stopped myself at the last minute. I was about to burst with energy that finally I decided to just go for a fucking run. My underwear still fit and I was able to pull on my leggings without much issue. The only real problem was my new sportsbra wa sa bit smalls. This was going to be irritating.

I stomped up the landing of my room in one jaunt before snatching up my baby blue hoody. My hair was still drying, but at this point I was too damn angry to care. My chest bounced one as I pulled it on an then yanked the hood down hair. Next came my earbus plugged into some old heavy metal tunes on my smartphone before I snagged my keys from my desk. It was time for a run, and with this body and the muscles, I wanted a test. I had so much energy I was sure I was easily going to be pacing a few of the cars outside.

I finished tying up my nike running shoes and I was ready. My new body was far more percise in its movements as I found myself making nary a sound as I snuck out of the house. I was the only one home, and yet my door opening or my foot steps usually awoke my sister's three chihhuahua mixes. I was outside much faster than I thought and didn't even bother to locate a jogging app before taking to the road. I was going to head out of town this time and avoid the riverwalk. I loved Mount Vernon's downtown area, but I was too damn pissed still to deal with people.

Anyone giving me an errant catcall was lilkely to get me in their face. I could already sense years of carefully learned coping methods going flying out the window, hurrah! Who the hell needs to be high functioning in this day and this society? THIS GIRL APPARENTLY! Goddess, my angst was reaching CW Teen Show levels, and I just took off. The music I chose for the run started to play,

Pavement and sidewalk sped beneath me. I was far faster than before and found my breathing easier to control. The Tool like tones and cords of the song played out as I sang along in my new alto voice. I didn't care if anyone heard or gave me a weird look. I was out running at sunset for myself, no other person out there.

I quickly rounded the first cornered to dash across the street. I felt like a blur, thought I was likely only cruising at about nine miles an hour, maybe. I felt my muscles scream with joy at being used in movement and I lost myself in the mounrful poetic lyrics of alternative metal. My mouth took to lip syncing the words of the second track after my favorite as I stopped for a quickly walked to read through some locale internet news.

I selected the Bellingham Herald to check in on my old home town and noticed a strange headline on the front page.

ARC Van Sighted In Local Crime Scene

What the hell? There was an explosion on one of the mountains, and ARC was involved. I sstopped my run for a moment. What the hellw as arc?

I sprinted a bit farther down the road to avoid a few locals I didn't know. Sue me, I'm a trans girl out and about, I do not trust people at all. I'm hyper sensative to danger. Even now I can feel my eyes rolling at someone lecturing on how I'm antisocial, so let's get back to the actual story. I jogged for a bit before the coast was clear and I slowed down to a light trot while googling the acronym. Okay, I got somewhere when the words "Arkhan Research Consortium" appeared on my screen.

Arkham? As in Gotham? Or as in Cthulhu? Wait was that shit real? I cocked my head at reading a bit of the article before preparing to take off on another sprint.

"You shouldn't be here little crow," a voice said, and then a dark figure was reaing for her. Pain ebbed from something jutting in her chest. A spearhead covered in runes, someone had literally stabbed her in the back. She tried t o move but strange metalllic blood poured from the wound.

"Whyyyy?" she asked using the local language.

"I didn't do this little crow, something followed you here, and its going to keep coming until you are bled dry."

I gaspe and fell to my knees in shock. I could still feel the pain of the spear and the feeling six inches of bronze jab into my back and burst through my ribcage. Splinters burned in the open flesh and I tried my best to not scream as I swore that there was blood on my chest. I was hyperventilating when the ravens were starting to gather in and around where I sat.

GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER!

I rose to my feet, my chest heaving heavily and I steadied myself. My stomach clenched as he pained memory and I did what anyone with my level of problems does, I ran from it. Again, literally I ran, I channele all the feelings from that memory right into my legs. I flew down the road past a few cars who vered out of my way and past several houses. I didn't care how far away from home I was or if I got lost. I wanted to get away from the painful experience and alien memories. This wasn't me!

My legs burned with exertion as my arms were a blur as I did my best to stabilize myself. Finally, afte rabout five minutes I stopped. Not all at once mind you, I jumped in the air and skipped to a stop just as the night started to claim world from the dyiing day. I sucked in air when my lungs demanded. My eyes scanned the area as light after light attached to the telephone poles came on. A wonderfully eerie situation.

Five minutes later the sun dipped below the horizon and left me partial darkness. Only the small islets of light revealed anything in front or behind me. My ears picked up the flutter of wings and a heavy labored breathing. Something slumped in a tumble of blackberry vines twenty feet from me across the road. It stumbled and shifted the underbrush loudly.

I froze as the thing got closer and then appeared near the edge of the light. It was tall and gaunt, and while I would love to call it human, this thing never was human. It had several arms, all sown onto a large trunk of flesh molded in the simulcra of a human's. Its head was large and bulbous, covered in unblinking eyes as a singular tear orifice filled with pulsating muscle stood as its mouth.

"Something followed you here, and it won't stop until it's bled you dry."

My blood went cold, as I realized it as here for me, and the spirit bound to my soul.

6th Period, Teachers' Lounge, Kirby Hall

The former Dragonslayer had known the job would suck when Carson had "asked" her to help out in the Mystical Arts Department, a.k.a. 'finger-wigglers are us'. Years of working as a Whateley Range hand had forcefully reminded her how damned reckless kids this age could be - just in case she'd managed to forget that aspect of her own ill-raised youth. But 'Damn. I'd thought taking this class with that bitch Solange and the Three Little Menaces was all fragile egos and foolish arrogance. It'll be a miracle if any of that last class survive to graduation, Gwen excluded.' On that happy note, Caitlin took a moment to verify that she still had all her samples for the last class. Mithril, in particular, had a tendency to get "misplaced".

"Caitlin! Ready to take a walk where the Wild Things are?" Beltane, the next class' teaching assistant, was looking far too much to the department new meat's discomfort.

"Just point me to the right path. We wouldn't want to wander too far, would we?"

"That's the spirit! Especially with this lot: Camp Twitchy Fingers' answer to Ito and Tolman's BMA Hell. Let's grab the goodies and go."

Definitely in a 'haze the new girl' mood.

"As long as we're on our way to Granny's Place, what should I look out for in particular?"

"Everything."

"No. Really. What's the deal, here?"

Belle's mood became a bit more somber. "Really, really. Everything. We've already had shouting matches over traditions. Dr. Tenent and I have our eyes on at least a handful of feuds that Mrs. Carson may have to settle if they continue on the way they're going. Likewise, we're under scrutiny from said headmistress over the normal curriculum, regarding any discussion of theurgy and necromancy. The psych department has asked us to make sure the words 'blood' and 'magic' do not appear in the same sentence. Oh, and throw in another batch of fairie glamour for good measure."

Caitlin drawled, "Is that all? No problem."

"Nope. That's just the one student that's violently allergic to your orichalcum sample. Most of the others just have Issues."

---

It was disappointing to see a couple of the students isolated in the back of the class, but Eldritch hadn't been asked to give her opinion on that. She could get an honest answer from Caduceus if she wanted to ask. Nonetheless, the guest lecture portion of the class, regarding common materials used, misused, or outright abused in the Arts went well. Finally, it was time for the students to queue up to see which of the provided array of metals, stones, and other mystic materials they resonated best with, if any at all.

It was downright amusing that the class deathmetal-head reacted most strongly to copper. Maybe next time he wouldn't wear a t-shirt featuring a Frazetta-style depiction of Thor in a bunny-fur loincloth as a hammer-wielding lightning rod to class.

Surprisingly, the class Thornie was also one of the first up, gloves at the ready because of his allergy. All would have gone well if one of the jackasses ahead of him hadn't tossed one of the samples to one of the pointy-eared girls in class. Caitlin had been warned about "issues"...

"Think fast!"

'Fuckwad's getting Detention for this. Just on principle.'

The girl recoiled, figuring rightly that the object would be cold iron, batting it out of the way with the clipboard she'd been carrying.

It was a pretty good hit at-bat. The lump of metal flew out the classroom door, barely missing Metro. In the confusion, Caitlin managed to catch Valravn face-palming as his friend bounded out the door after the not-THAT-shiny object... that may have bounced down some stairs. Hopefully, Nikki was elsewhere?

The class was barely settled down when Mads waltzed back into class as if nothing had happened. Shyeah right. Not buying it.

"Mister Jensen, don't you have something to return to Caitlin? Now?" Ophelia left a hanging 'or else' off the question.

Caitlin had seen devisor coffee brownies returned with more grace by nine-year-olds.

Ophelia whispered something about "horseshoes, barrow locks, and coffin nails" in the appalled girl's ear in explanation, but two cases of hives, a couple of internally-shattered stones and three minor burns later, Caitlin had had enough of the sixth period wilderkinder. 'We've got to deal with these little powderkegs for the next three and a half years? What the fuck have I been signed up for?' Later in the term, when she saw that she'd been volunteered to help with a series of classes on enchantments and general artificing, the traumatized instructor considered asking Carson to change her assignment to cleaning sewers instead.

London, Ontario

"Greetings officers," Salutations said, bowing to the police that were currently redirecting traffic around the three super villains. "What appears to be the problem today?"

"We've got three villains who, if we have the descriptions right are from the US. Here are the files we were able to get on short notice," the officer in charge said, handing over a tablet with all the necessary information on it to the hero.

Salutations looked it over quickly his grin getting bigger and bigger. "Thank you officers, I'll give them a warm, Canadian greeting."

As the hero vanished into thin air, one of the younger officers shook his head, "Why couldn't we get a respectable hero? What kind of hero name is Salutations?"

The other officer didn't say anything, just shrugged his shoulders in response. Sure the hero was a weirdo, but he got the job done.

**

Eddie Four Fists, walked down the street a backpack full of money on his back. His two partners in crime were looking around waving to the news crew that were recording them and looking around for whatever this two bit city called a hero. They had been low ranking B-List villains in there old cities, but now that they were a team they wanted to move up in the ranks.

Things were going well, except that they were still waiting for the hero, some idiot called Salutations, to make an appearance. Killing him might be bad as they'd have all the heroes gunning for them, but breaking him on live TV would let everyone know there was a new bad ass in town.

"What the hell?" Bad Mojo said, pointing up at the sky.

A second later fireworks were exploding overhead, Eddie looked up to see a figure in a white suit plummeting through the sky while spinning like a top surrounded by lights, with a large sign fluttering behind him which said "HELLO!"

As they stared in amazement at the sight, the figure vanished.

The next instant the same white figure appeared moving at terminal velocity horizontally to the street, swinging a heavy sledgehammer at Eddie's chest. The villain moved instinctively his four enormous arms rising up to protect himself. The heavy metal weapon hit his forearms and snapped in half, but the impact was hard enough that even with his hardened muscles and bones he knew at least one of his arms was broken. The hero disappeared again before anyone could react.

"What the fuck just happened?" Squid asked, his metallic tentacles moving around him in an intricate defensive pattern.

"I don't know!" Eddie snapped, clutching his arm. "Just get ready for the next attack."

Bad Mojo started casting a spell, her magical staff sending out pillars of dark, eldritch, energy.

"HI!" a voice shouted from over their heads.

"Grenades!" Bad Mojo shouted, cutting off her spell and jumping to the side as four grenades dropped to the ground.

Eddie was blinded and deafened as the flash bangs went off. If the hero thought something like that would slow him down, he was badly mistaken. But as his eyesight returned a few seconds later Eddie realized he hadn't been the target, Bad Mojo had taken the brunt of it and was on her back covering her eyes while blood dripped from her ears.

"Squid, I'll grab Bad, you try to stop this asshole!" Eddie shouted to be heard over the ringing in his ears. With his good upper arm he slung the female villain over his shoulder and put her staff in his belt while Squid sent a handful of small drones into the air.

Bang!

Eddie tried to scream, he tried to breathe, he tried to do anything to get past the pain of having just been shot in the crotch from point blank range by a beanbag fired out of a shotgun. He failed. Although he did hear quite clearly the hero saying "Bonjour!" just before he disappeared again.

"This guy won't stay still long enough for my drones to hit him!" Squid shouted.

There was no answer from Eddie who could merely fall to the ground clutching himself while trying not the crush Bad Mojo.

Through the tears in his eyes, Eddie watched the hero appear on Squids shoulders slap something on the side of Squids head and vanish again. Then Squid was screaming in pain as the thing on his head shrieked "HELLO!" loud enough to make Eddie's ears ring in agony.

Without their controller, who was currently holding his head screaming that he was deaf, the Squids tentacles and drones went on a simple defensive routine. This made them easy prey for the hero who would appear, take a shot with his shotgun and then disappear again, only to reappear again within ten seconds to do it all over again. A minute later the drones were gone and the tentacles were full of holes.

Eddie managed to pull himself to his feet by then. His whole body hurt, and he had to leave Bad Mojo on the ground but he was capable of fighting. There was no way he was going to let some hero with a stupid name defeat him in less than two minutes.

"COME ON OUT AND FIGHT ME!" he shouted.

"Greetings," a voice said behind him. "I hope you're enjoying your visit to my little city."

He spun around swinging at the voice. His fists went through the air.

"If you surrender now, I'll make sure you get the best medical care possible as well as free room and board for several years."

Eddie kicked backwards but the hero was gone.

"I've tried to be polite," the voice said from behind him.

Backing up to a wall, Eddie grimaced and tried to catch the teleporter.

"But you're making this very difficult on yourself," Salutations said, from just over his head.

"Shut up already!" Eddie shouted.

"OK, you asked for it." The hero disappeared from his perch on a second story window. Twenty seconds later he was standing in front of Eddie. "OK, I'm here, what are you going to do now?"

Eddie swung three fists at the hero, only for the hero to dodge them by teleporting to the side. Five more punches had the same results.

"Last chance, Eddie. Your partners are already arrested, and if I have to do my ultimate attack you're REALLY not going to like it," Salutations said.

A quick glance showed that the hero was telling the truth, the police had Squid and Bad Mojo wrapped up tight. Rage filled Eddie, he roared and went at the hero like a bull.

Salutations vanished once more. So Eddie charged at the nearest police, who took one look at the raging brick and took off running.

They didn't need to go far. Salutations appeared in the air above Eddie riding on top of an old, heavy truck full of cement bricks. The truck and Saluations crashed down on the villain putting him down for the count.

**
The next day

Eddie woke up in a hospital bed, strapped down with brick proof shackles. Flexing his muscles, he found that his broken arm had been healed at some point.

"Good morning, Eddie," a familiar voice said cheerfully.

"God Damn it!" Eddie cursed. "What are you doing here?"

Salutations grinned happily, practically bouncing with glee in his white costume as he placed a fruit basket on the bed beside Eddie. "Just wanted to give you this, to properly welcome you to Canada."

Eddie let out a stream of curses and threats as the hero laughed and vanished.

Kayda sat on the bench, looking over the Quad. She missed Debra, and was feeling homesick. Mrs. Carson had chewed her out about the incident with Chou, It was her competitiveness that had ended up with Chou getting bucked from the horse. While the healing spells and herbs Kayda had used would aid the healing Chou’s arm was broken, and would need a few days of treatment.

Sighing, Kayda wondered about her purpose. How could she be the Ptesanwi? She screwed up all the time. Chou had been hurt because Kayda had allowed their rivalry to get out of control. The young Lakota girl buried her face in her hands and started to cry.

Tatanka sensed her sadness, and appeared before her, nuzzling against her gently, and reassuring her.

“Wihakayda, there is nothing to be gained in blaming yourself”, the voice of Wakan Tanka spoke clearly in her mind. “You allowed your competition with the Hand-maiden to get the better of you, but you must not dwell upon it and let it make you lose your focus and composure. Do you see that woman over there? She has an important spirit that you should meet”.

Kayda looked up, and looked around, she did not see who Wakan Tanka was talking about at first, but then, upon a second look, she noticed a short woman, perhaps in her mid twenties. The woman was walking out of Schuster Hall. She seemed to be focused on something, but then all of a sudden, her head perked up and looked around. Seeing Kayda, the woman began to walk towards her.

Coming up to Kayda, The woman smiled and extended a hand. She had a firm handshake, and was probably some level of exemplar. “My name is LeAnna, but in my hero identity, I’m known as Gavia.”

“From the Latin name for loons”, Kayda surmised. Kayda looked at her. The first thing she noticed about LeAnna was that she was short, really short. Probably 5’2”, at best. The diminutive hero smiled and sat down beside Kayda. “Wakan Tanka called me over and asked me to talk to you. I have met Wakan Tanaka on a few occasions, mostly in my dream space. I know it is an extremely personal thing to visit another’s dream space, but would you join me in mine? Wakan Tanka feels we should talk.”

Despite feeling some trepidation, Kayda felt the serenity and peacefulness that LeAnna seemed to exude, and agreed. She started towards Poe, but then realized, and nervously looked around.

“Um, I was going to sugggest we talk in my room, but um… I, well that is…” Kayda stammered.

LeAnna laughed, a beautiful, pleasant laugh. “Poe, huh? Don’t worry about it. When I went here, I was a Poesie. I was very… curious about my sexuality, and they thought it best to room me there.” Kayda blushed, relieved.

Walking into Poe, LeAnna looked around, nostalgia hitting her from all sides. “I had some of the best times of my life here, and some of the worst”. Sensing the nervousness in her young companion, LeAnna smiled and allowed Kayda to show her to her room. The room was empty, as Chou was still over at Doyle. LeAnna crossed her legs in a lotus position on the floor, and ushered Kayda to get comfortable and join her.

“Um, would you like some tea?”, Kayda offered. LeAnna looked at her, and Kayda wondered how she had not noticed the woman’s eyes before now. The sclera was solid black, with vivid red irises.

Nodding, LeAnna smiled. “I would love a cup of tea”.

Kayda sat on the bed and drank her tea, while LeAnna seemed content to sit on the floor. Both women closed their eyes. When Kayda opened her eyes, she noticed that they were on the shore of a lake. Settling down on a log, LeAnna motioned for Kayda to sit beside her. The lake was pleasant. There was a smell of pine wafting through the air, behind them was a large conifer forest. The sun was in the evening sky, sunset would come in an hour or so.

Kayda opened her mouth to ask a question, but LeAnna put her finger to her lips. “What do you hear?”, the older woman asked.

Kayda stopped and paid attention, really paying attention this time. She heard the sound. A tranquil, melodic song was coming from the lake. At times it would be sad and sorrowful, but at other times she could swear it was laughter and joy.

LeAnna smaled. “That is my spirit, Bloza, the Loon. He teaches tranquility and serenity. There are times we must be sad, and times we should rejoice. But Bloza teaches us inner peace.”

From behind the women, the voice of Wakan Tanka spoke. “It is not good to obsess on problems. Bloza teaches us that sometimes it is okay to feel sorrow, but one must remember to feel joy as well. Your friend was hurt because you both became overly competitive. but it does nobody any good to trap oneself in negativity. Be like Bloza, and learn to accept your mistake and find peace with it.

Kayda looked up, and saw a beautiful bird swimming towards the shore. It was black with a white underside. It’s wings were black with white square patterns and around the neck was a band of white. She looked over at the woman beside her, and realized that LeAnna’s salt and pepper hair resembled the loon’s patterns. Gazing at the bird, Kayda watched as it awkwardly waddled onto land and sat down next to LeAnna. The older woman began to pet the beautiful bird, and it began to sing again. Kayda closed her eyes, and let the melodious song penetrate her. She could feel the sadness washing out of her, and a peace and tranquility that she had not known in ages filled her.

The two sat for what seemed like hours. LeAnna looked over at the young girl. “Do you feel better?”

Kayda blinked, she did feel calmer and more serene. The worry was gone from her. She would take the lesson of Bloza, the loon to heart.

LeAnna smiled and the two left the dream space together. Both women opened their eyes, and found themselves back in the room at Poe.

“I have to get back to Schuster, I’m here to take care of some paperwork. My daughter will be coming to Whateley this winter, and preparations have to be made.” LeAnna reached in her bag, and took out a business card and gave it to Kayda, who looked it over.

The two walked to the front door. “If you ever need to talk, feel free to call me. And when Essylt comes to the campus, I’ll have her come find you. I’m sure you two would get along nicely.”

With a wave, Kayda watched the older woman turn and head off toward the administration building.

It had been a couple hours since her unexpected guest had left, but Kayda still felt good. Chou came back, limping slightly. Molly was helping her by supporting her. Kayda pushed aside her math books, and got out her medicine pouch. She whipped up three cups of tea, and offered Chou and Molly each a cup.

“Chou, I’m sorry, I let things get out of control. Our rivalry got the better of me. are we still good?”, she asked tentatively.

Chou looked over at Kayda and smiled. She invited her over for a hug, and pretty soon all three of them were wrapped in a nice, friendly group hug.

Part 5 - Dead Men Speak

===

It was several feet from me before it finally sunk in, there was a monster here to kill me. Generally, I assumed such events were nightmares or maybe an everyday hallucination. I mean when I was tired or seriously delirious after drinking my brain cooked up some pretty Geiger-esque imagery. Too bad for me today, nightmare incarnate was here to drain me into a useless husk of flesh. I widened my eyes in fright, and nearly flood my bowels on the spot. I wanted to scream in that moment, but my voice left me.

The creature sloughed off several of its extra arms as they fell away like dead leaves from a tree. Stitches broke as muscle beneath its strangely wet looking skin shuddered. Its face, a contorted joke of what could fit for a man's was nothing but three holes sealed by scar tissue. Somehow the thing let loose a loud warble which passed through me in a wave of nausea.

I wanted to run, and yet my feet were glued to the spot.

I couldn't run, I would likely get killed or worse draw the accursed monstrosity to my home. It was here for the spirit, and asw the host it was here for me. I inhaled the cool autumm air, and shook myself to attempt to get my head int he game. It worked just in the cliche nick of time too, I jumped back as the creature lunged at me. THe sudden movement caused a murder of crows shifted in their perches above.

Great I had a murder for an audience.

"Pay attention." the voice spoke in the recesses of my mind. I felt something jerk my hand as an alien force took control of my body. I went from being in control to just being a passsenger as I dodge, and rolled out of the way of several lunges from the monster. The spirit grit my teeth and snarled in response as the thing warbled again.

"What is this thing?!" I asked.

"It has no name, it was once a person or a group of persons, souls eaten by the Slua, the Nightmare Horde," replied the spirit.

"THIS THING IS A SLUA?!" my eyes widened as images flashed in between movements. Riders being eaten by skeletal birds, and attacked by animated corpses. Each moving like a broken puppet with tangled strings.

I drew from the broken memories as the spirit kept me alive. We danced around its form, keeping it just far away enough keep it hurting too much. My new body, however, was still new and was proving that its changes were far from complete. I slid under one arm and tried to punch the creature, but my hand compacted against skin with the density of brick. I bit back of yelp as I backed away and tried to think.

"There is something I could do, if only I could remember," the spirit spoke using my lips again.

"Do you have anything to give me sides making me look good and faster?" I growled.

"I use to have a spear, but one of these bastards took it, sod it!" she said and jumped at the thing and kicked it in the face.

Her combat skills were impressive, and I could feel my muscles reacting more and more from memory. Still, the thing in front of me was far stronger, and while it was slowly going to overpower me. My new body needed energy, and my run had used up most of my store. I needed food fast, and here I was fighting Lurch Scarface. She flicked my gaze up toward the crows for a moment, as a memory sat on the edge of her thoughts. I could almost summon it, but it still remained ou of reach.

That's when, as if on cue, the monster finally nailed me in a flayling of its arms. I was struck hard enough to knock me of my back and let ou an oof as the wind was knocked out of my lungs. God it hurt, the back of my head banged against the ground and a ringing in my ears. I tried to sit up as a meaty fist slammed into my jaw and I fell on my side. Everything at this point was hurting again. What drew my ire though the most was the tear in my new jogger leggings, and that's when I finally lost it.

"I JUST BOUGHT THESE YOU PIECE OF SHIT!" I screamed. Yup, being nearly killed was more scary, but when monstroso pushed me to destroying a new favorite piece of clothing I went berserk. I felt my form being overetaken by a burst of newfoun energy as my rage unlease itself. I charged the monster and slammed my right shoulder into it. In response it wrapped an army around me and started to squeeze me. I thrashed in its slimey grip as my mind raced for a solution. Sure I was mad, but I couldn't keep fighting something that didn't tired.

The Sluagh of mythology were mindless ravaging spirits who devoured souls and were said to travel as a horde of fluttering made birds. If this thing was one of those creatures then it eat me whole, soul in all. I had no bloody intention of being eaten alive by such a athing or joining a mindless horde in my past time.

But what was I going to do. It squeezed harder and harder, as it turned me around and held me in two of its massive massive hands. One of the scars on its face pulsated before tearing itself open and revealing a singular mouth filled with gnashing hungry teeth. In a low voice reminiscent of a Belfast pub regular and in a rather eloquent level of diction said, "Finally we have you War Caste! You and your contracts will be ours!"

Contracts? War Cast? At thfe moment all I could think of was "WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!" I felt it slowly dig its fingers into my side as it started to dangle me towards its waiting mouth. So it was going to eat and subsume me into the horde of undead. Then it was going to apparently eat up whatever powers my spirit held.

Nope, nope! Screw that! There had to be a way out of this uttery nonsense! I tried to think of something, the creature shoved my arm into its mouth and the teeth bit into my flesh. More pain, as always, this day was all about pain. The spirit screamed in my ears as I felt her drawing away from me, and my soul steadily along with her. Words in a language older than Rome itself sputtered in my head as the spirit wracked her own shattered memories for an answer to our predicament.

I would think of one myself, but at the moment I was trying not to rip off my own arm. By now most of my upper shoulder was inside the mount being pulled further by the dagger long teeth. I shut my eyes tight as I let out one final prayer.

The creature suddenly stop, and I felt the bones in my body quiver. My spine seemed to elongate as my body was wracked by new spasms. I could here that angry scream from the spirit as she tapped into a new source of change in one fina hail mary. I croaked out a growl as I moved to rip my arm from it grasp. Twisting in the Slua's grasp I felt my feet rip free of my shoes as my clothes themselves were destroyed. Was I suddenly a fucking werewolf or something? No, I was still somewhat human, if you ignored the longer nails on both my hands and feet.

Then there was the weird armor slowly forming my body as the spirit drew on whatever magical energy it could sense in the area around it.

"What in the name of the Gods?!" I was about to ask when she spoke through my lips.

"Morrigu, earth must be fed." I licked my lips as part understaning came to me. I was War Caste, a powerful member of kith and clan who existed to fight. Metal was my love, and blood my pay. Muscle rippled underneath my skin as finally broke free of the things grasp. This time when I snapped a hard kick into its its arm i was able to knock its grip away from me. That only left my arm still stuck in this Silent HIll rejects mouth!

The small shirt of scale that entomed my torso over a simple quilted top was finished by a blood red kilt around my legs. She planted my feet first on the the things side and I grabbed its head with my free hand. The Slua's skin was tought and leather, reminding me of a rhino's as I tried to dig my nails into its hide. For several milliseconds I struggled to free my arm, and felt my magicly imbued muscles jerk to get away. I even let out a shattering scream at the creature which seem to daze it for a moment before its grip returned.

"This is the daughter of the courtly clans? She who sang away the host of Indech King? Who was consort of the second to wear the Antler Crown after Silverarm? Phah," jested the Slua. It reached for me once more as I squirmed a final protest.

"I don't know who you think I am fuggo," I coughed before I planted my feet on more time and leveraged myself against my arm.

"You don't remember do you War Caste," it cackled around my arm.

"I don't care!" I yelled when finally I felt my arm get a bit of wiggle room. I pulled by my free arm and smashed my fist into its teeth. Hard as metal as they were, I felt three loose. Again I pulled again and finally, as the magical moment came I wrenhed my arm bleeding from its nightmarish maw.

"Sod it all!" it griped as two of the teeth were pulled along with my arm.

The spirit took my voice again to spit, "I told you Slua, child of winter and harvest. Earth will be fed."

She snatched the teeth sticking from my arm as the two traded a final series of monologues. Did I mention that I was getting sick of this epic fantasy bullcocky? She leaped into the arm and rolled mid-air as the creature made one final lunge. Its neck expose, she drove the two fangs into its neck. At the moment of contact a concussion of air blasted me twenty feet away from the creature as it screamed bloody murder at me. Whatever, I had done, a series of strange markings appeared on its skin as its form appeared to implode on the spot.

Squelching wet crunching proceeded as snap snap snap, the bones, and flesh were rent unto themselves. Where hence the monster came, by the grace of whatever gods exist, it went back. Nearly half dead from blood loss I felt myself gettting weaker. The scale mail shirt splattered with small bits of gore as the twin fangs fell from my grasp in a small tinny clang. My vision blurred as I tried to stand up, and after ten minutes long after the Slua was gone I finally did.

I stared at the spot where it once stood and I shot a glance at my torn clothes.

I was much taller than before and still that thing had towered over me. I felt a rush of feeling as the world began to slowly grow around me and it took me a moment to realize, I was changing back. Whatever power had filled me sapped back where it came, leaving me in tattered clothes where I stood. Uterly alone and cold, I was confused what to do next.

Then I felt a hand on my shoulder. One that calmed and unnerved me at the same time. A familiar voice from nightmare and blissful dreams came to my ears.

"What did I tell you child? You broke the seals, and you came back. I thought after the last time your kind were here, you would have learned better."

I slowly turned to meet the speaker's eyes in a simple attempt to save face. But I was a half-nude looking teenager out in the middle night. Paler than a ghost I was surprised to see a friendly looking aged native man. His long black hair was worn free around his head, and his face was angular in shape. A series of kindly wrinkles around his eyes and forehead gavev a sense of age, as his eyes and his lips reminded me a youthful mirth. Whatever he was, he wasn't human. His grip on my shoulder was tighter than that monster, and the aura around him was, something else entirely.

Cat caught my tongue that moment. His steely black eyes meeting my own as he shook his head. Dressed in a nicelly pressed dark suit, a single black feather hung from a piercing in his right ear.

"I haven't seen such foolish shit, since I stole the sun." He spat before lighting a cigarrette nonchalantly.

"I didn't have a chance old man," I barely was able to retorted.

"Fine fucking mess then, and yes I'm old" he said before exhaling a line of glowing smoke, "Older than some, younger than others."

"And who are you?" I asked.

"Well child, you and that amnesiac faerie of yours can call me either Gerald Jameson, or my old name, Raven."

A few maybe-omakes for "Vegas, Baby, Vegas" brought up by tiredness and lack of proper sleep...

======================
OMAKE THE FIRST:

"Hey, Chris, I don't want to be mean or anything, but... ummm... you seem to be becoming really comfortable as a girl..."
"Yeah, Evan, I have been meaning to talk to you about this..."
"What?"
"The reason I'm so comfortable is... well... I used to be female before..."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I used to be an adult woman. I was visiting my husband at work, and, well, there was stuff going on, mages and devisors got involved, and I was zapped and... I became a teenage boy."
"Man, that's..."
"Yeah, he didn't handle it well. Instead of us just telling our kids, he came up with this whole rigmarole of finding some civilians to pose as my parents and telling the boys that I had left the family and moved to Delaware..."
"Civilians? Delaware...? MOM?"
"Yes, Evan, I'm your mother. Or used to be. I don't know what I'm anymore. I lost my life for the second time. But at least, I'm female again. And being young and hot is nothing to sneer at..."
"I can't believe it! That's... I don't know what. I'm confused as hell. I mean, I have been checking your ass!"
"Well, it's worthy of checking if I do say myself. Do you think Mack would go for it?"
"MOM! Chris... whatever. I'm confused enough. Don't make me think of you trolling for guys."
"Okay then. If I can't go after other guys... wanna make out?"
"MOOOM!"
"BWAH-AH-AH-AH! Oh, your FACE! And Roxy thought you was too smart to fall for this prank!"




==========================
OMAKE THE SECOND:

"Evan... I can't let you die in the arena. Leave your friends and join me in running this business."
"Uh, Madam Vicious, not that this isn't flattering, but... don't you think I'm a bit young for you?"
"Oh, no, it's not like that. It's because... well, it took me a while to recognize you, with all the changes you went through... and it has been a while since I have seen you... my SON."
"You are saying... you are my MOM?
"Er... not exactly."
"What do you mean?"
"Well..." <deepens voice> "Evan, I am your father."
"What's this, an Empire Strikes Back joke? And that's the worst impression of James Earl Jones I have ever seen."
"No, I'm actually your father. You see, your mother came to visit me at the base, and there was an attack by supervillains... well, magic and devisor energies flying around, and... somehow, we ended up swapping bodies."
"What?"
"Yeah, your mother was great, she apparently had picked up enough military stuff over the years that she managed to convince everybody that she was me, so we weren't shipped to some lab. I... didn't handle the change well. That's why I left the family and told you I was moving to Delaware."
"But... Dad... I mean, Mom, I guess... became even stricter than before..."
"I guess that's how she handled the change. Sorry."
"And... you didn't have that... cleavage... before..."
"Implants. Appearance counts a lot in the supervillainess business."
"But... Marly told us you took the Golden Gladiator to your room..."
"Hey, I have needs. And I learned to appreciate this body. Since you are in the same boat, at least part time, maybe I should give you a few pointers..."
"I'm not having this conversation."

Lunchtime, Monday, January 7, 2008, Crystal Hall, Whateley Academy

Judging from the "don't you dare!" and "what happens in X stays in X" looks shared about among the guys as she walked up, Smithy wasn't sure if they'd just flown in from what's traditionally a family holiday, or from a traditionally debauched bachelors' party. Setting her tray down at the table, she set to the task of defusing the conversational mine field. 'If the idiots didn't spend so much effort trying to look innocent, they might have pulled it off,' she thought to herself.

"Hey, y'all. How did your holidays go?"

Metro led off, inadvertently proving that there had been one or more disasters involved. "They went well. I got to visit with Mama, Lars, and, er, my extended family. Kristian here got to spend lots of time with his family."

"Good to hear that! Dish. Where'd you go, who'd you visit, and did you get any good presents for Christmas?"

Rorsmand winced at Mads' and Thomas' emotional reactions to the last question. "Eh. Two out of three isn't too bad."

"What? What did I get wrong?"

No good way out of this.

"Er. My immediate family doesn't exchange gifts..." There was more to it, but only so much the boy would talk about. That was always something that broke his friends' families' hearts when he was invited to spend the holiday break with them instead of staying at school. "But we do try to find something nice for others!"

"OK. Where did you go, then?"

"I took a flight to Trondheim while Thomas headed up to Ottawa for a couple of days."

Abelyn looked over to the boy seated next to Metro, "You have family in Canada?"

"I'm a Crown ward. I needed to tend to some details regarding my scholarship here and the progress I'm making."

As if on cue, Mads stepped back in over Thomas' discomfort. "We met back up with Mama, Lars, and Aunt Aang's brood at her home for Yuletide. You should have seen the buck we brought down for the meal!"

The teen enthusiastically stuck out fingers and thumbs as he held his hands up and out to imitate the beast's rack. If that could be believed, they must have eaten Rudolph's father.

He continued. "Hm. Only got thrown out of the kitchen a couple of times, unlike Lars. Don't know where he gets it from."

Thomas clarified, "The half-sis doesn't trust him with a knife as far as she can toss him. Maybe only half as far at that. Regarding the other, we all have suspicions."

"No idea what's up with that. But after some massive feasting and so forth, we headed south to hook back up with the Danish side of the family, so to speak. More visiting, family business things..."

"There was more than a little smoothing of ruffled feathers mixed in with that, as *someone* had decided to make his own hotel reservations." The native-born Dane was partly amused, but also somewhat horrified as well, that Mads had done that.

"No one in Norway minded!"

"That was, and only was, because you were passing through on personal business, with a very limited number of possible routes and schedules to take." Kristian's rebuttal sounded like they'd gone over this much more than once.

"Anyway, we got to do almost all the traditional things for Christmas and the New Year."

"Only almost all?" Well, she had to ask, if only to interpret the hints she might hear once Rorsmand unwound enough to gripe about his fellow countryman.

Skipping past a couple of interviews and some public appearances suited to a junior person of a certain class: "We did toast Her Majesty's speech, and the rest of the at-home New Year things, but there wasn't time enough left to get out into town to properly enjoy the fireworks."

Thomas 'interpreted': "By which he means 'take part in blowing stuff up', or in others' words 'risking life and limb playing with pyrotechnics'."

Abelyn could too easily picture that. "Oookay," she drawled, wondering if that meant that Mads would be trying harder to get into mischief next year.

His objection, "It's not that dangerous, all things considered.", confirmed the young woman's justified suspicion.

"Compared to demolition charges that may be true, but at least two of the younger cousins would have been right behind you in getting into the mayhem."

"Nah. They're good kids. They wouldn't."

"They had their jackets on before you were caught retrieving yours. Their uncle was put into time out on general principle even if his collusion wasn't provable."

"Hmph!"

So much for the unproven aspect of the collusion.

"Anyway, we find out the next day that Kristian has had No Social Life for the past two weeks."

"That is so very much not true! There's holiday shopping to get done, helping with decorations, going out to see all the shops and everything decorated for the holiday, and Father is always extra-busy this time of year... It's just that the time spent away gets in the way of meeting back up with people you know during a short break. "

"... in a town where everything important, interesting, or fun is within one, maybe two, kilometers of the town center and everyone owns a bicycle. No social life at all, just as his sister had said."

"The traitor."

The two boys - being boys - could laugh about that. Abelyn didn't find it so amusing. There'd been boys and girls that she'd grown up with back home that she'd likely not see again, and if she did, they probably wouldn't recognize her. "Damn. I wish you had told someone you were practically alone, Kris. You should have called one of us. How hard would that have been? Even if your parents were broke, I'm sure they would have found the money to cover that."

"It's not that simple. We're talking about people I've grown up my entire life with! Now, if we even meet, it's like they don't even see me ... Here in America you all are so used to just making new friends on the spot, wherever you go. Everything is so spread out, maybe you have to. But life in Aalborg,"

"I bet it's not as different from E-town as you think."

For a change it was Thomas checking his smartphone. "The population figures might better match Lexington or Louisville."

"Thomas, you just head up sixty-five north and you'll be in Louisville before you know it. What Kris is talking about is being from a place where sometimes it feels like all your friends' parents know your parents and the older and younger kids have all gone to the same schools, come down with chickenpox the same time, so on and so forth for generations."

"Yeah."

"Should've dragged him to Yule."

"We definitely should not have dragged him to Yule. Can you picture him helping field-dress that reindeer we brought in?"

"Boys, let's not go into details at the lunch table. My father used to go hunting."

"Nah. T's just having trouble picturing Kris and Fen co-operating on anything."

"You make it sound like I'm being unreasonable!"

Mads looked Kristian directly in the eyes, "No. I'm making it sound like you two have very different personalities." Then he shifted emotional gear back to 'flippant', "Anyway, we were going to shanghai him, and make him take us out boating for the one or two days free we had." By 'we', one could take it that this was entirely Mads' idea.

"We were not going out on the Western Sea in a small sailing boat this time of year."

"It did strike me as inadvisable," agreed Thomas.

"Well *I* wanted to."

"Exactly."

Thomas picked up the narrative. "Instead, Evie headed home to catch up on her studies. That left Lars free for a family skiing trip..." "Speaking of 'inadvisable'!" groused an overprotective older brother. "...plus Kristian as a friend of the family, so to speak. For a short while, Mads was >this< close to demonstrating that he could be a moderating influence on the younger cousins."

"Heh. It looked more like blind panic when we almost had to pry his fingers off the fence."

"I just don't see the sense of sliding down an icy mountain peppered with trees and rocks at highway speeds strapped to a couple of very thin waxed sticks unless considerably more armor is involved."

Smithy considered what the self-described "squishy magician" might consider adequate in the category of armor, then waited for the other foot to drop.

"So, while everyone else was enjoying the ski slopes, someone just had to point him to the snowboard rentals." Kristian made an effort to convey that it would never have been him.

"I thought the younger boys' future stepmother was going to have a heart attack when one of them pointed to their cousin on the half-pipe and asked if they could do *that* next. Keep in mind that their parents do enjoy skiing, something which happens on well-groomed slopes maintained to provide a well-understood range of difficulty."

"Riiiiight. I think it's meant as a surrepticious means of keeping population in check."

"Boys, I don't see anyone sporting a cast, so it must have gone well in the end. Did you all fly back from the ski resort then?"

Mads chuckled, "Speaking of having to pry hands off a gate..."

"I've seen what happens around you, your friends, and aircraft."

Rorsmand looked alarmed. "Wait, what? I don't think anyone's told me about this."

"It's nothing. Just that one time."

"Are we talking about just that one time you were almost shot down, or just that one time the helicopter was rigged to explode? Or how about just that one time a mercenary sold your friend Proxie out?"

"None of that was my fault!"

After having spent twelve hours in an aircraft with the student magician in question, including a layover in Amsterdam of all places, Kristian was 100% certain he did not want to know the highlights, let alone the details of those hinted-at past adventures.

His briefings regarding the ongoing threat to two people he was coming to think of as friends had only been reassuring in as much as he realized that he wasn't the only person tasked to look out for them. Then he found out that the three of them (four if one included the young blue-haired Sidhe he'd recognized from school) would be spending a night in 'the sin city of Europe'. Where would he be ending up next time - Sarajevo?

The briefing that Mads attended before leaving Copenhagen had named two other at-risk students that would be travelling back to Whateley at the same time, along with his Amsterdam and Boston check-ins. His new family's 'family business' was showing signs of being as complicated as the old one.

"OK. Changing the subject a bit, Abelyn, how was your winter vacation?"

"Looking back on it now, North Carolina now seems to have been much quieter and somewhat safer."

Edit: This is a follow on from whateleyacademy.net/index.php/forum/the-...read?start=710#46792 , where Stephen McKenzie, a gadgeteer and manifestor, tried to make a room-temperature superconductor, enlisting his cousin Ceilidh, a healer and PDP, to be an "on-site medic".

Saturday Afternoon, Devisor tunnels, Chemical Gadgeteering main laboratory

"Stephen, remind me again what we're doing here, when I could be outside playing with my friends? I mean, Miki's got this weird Japanese version of a spinning top and it looks really pretty when it spins, and..." The little girl rambled at her cousin, who promptly did his best to ignore most of what she was saying. It wasn't that he didn't care, it's that he had to splice his precursors carefully here, or an entire fortnight's work would be wasted.

"I told you Ceilidh, I'm trying to put together the final stages of my battery project." He said, as he funneled the alkalis and acids through the titration tubes.

"Yeah, that's what you're doing here. But what am I doing here? You told Leanna that this project was completely safe, and would fund global peace." She recited from her eidetic memory, beginning to frown as only a small child can.

"Yes, Ceilidh. As you know, from my work with the room-temperature superconductors, I think I figured out what went wrong, and now I'm using that to create a battery so good, it'll be able to hold a charge of up to 1.21 jiggawatts indefinitely! Well, until you take the potential out anyway, but you can even recharge it!"

"You're an idiot Stephen." Affronted at the sheer uncharacteristic insult, Stephen stopped his apparatus and wheeled around to look agape at her, only to be confronted with a figure of minature wrath, hands on hips and foot tapping in annoynance. He could only sputter as she started to look for the opening to the laboratory's safety glass box.

"One. It's pronounced 'gigawatt', from the prefix "Giga" which means times ten to the power of nine. Two. A watt is a unit of power, not energy, so your battery can't hold that. You want either a Joule for energy or a Volt for electrical potential. Three. Having a battery that's rated for that would be meaningless. You'd either blow through the energy too fast to be useful in your machine or more likely, blow up whatever you tried to power with it.

What? Don't look at me like that. I've both seen that film and read Leanna's textbooks. A single horsepower is just short of seven hundred and fifty watts, and you think you need a thousand million of them? Get real.

And four, you didn't say why I'm here! The stupid superconductor thing didn't even blow up, it just fizzled!"

Saturday, September 24, 2016. Los Angeles.

Luisa Mendez added orange wedges into the bag of watermelon before sprinkling on the chili powder and adding in the fresh lime juice. She added a red plastic fork, her family's little trademark, as a final touch, and handed it over to her customer. The old woman handed over the cash, which Luisa shoved into the pocket of her hoodie.

Once business had slowed down, Luisa looked around before pulling the wad of cash out of her hoodie and stripped off most of the bills, placing them into a zippered bag before hiding it in the salt container under the cart. She started prepping another orange and looked around.

It was another perfect September day, and her family's cart occupied the same corner it had for the last 18 years, three years longer than she'd even been alive. The sushi restaurant Hanamura was right behind her, and there was a Target and a Union Bank across the street. It was peaceful, it had high traffic, and there were enough people around that she didn't have to worry about being mugged by any of the locals. Turistas were another matter. Sometimes, she wished for a slow weekend so she could just read, but then again, her family had already spent all the money buying and preparing the little rainbow in the cart. Her family or the Barrons next door ate whatever was left over. Before she knew it, she was swamped with customers again, pushed away from her daydreaming.

Watermelon. Honeydew. Pineapple. Medley. Pineapple. Watermelon. Papaya. Jimica, cucumber and papaya. Watermelon and orange. Watermelon. Mango. Mango and orange? Were they crazy? Tourists. Medley. Honeydew. Watermelon and orange. The next hour flew by.

She was running out of limes. Tía Diana forgot to buy enough after yesterday's rush. Didn't she know Saturday mornings were busy? Maybe she could ask the Shinodas to rush across the street to the Target and pick her up a few. It would cut into today's earnings, but she couldn't afford to run out of limes. What would the regulars think? Her family had a reputation to maintain.

That said, Luisa was turning sixteen in a few weeks. She could start looking for another job, legally, and force her younger brother Eddie to take over Saturday morning duty of the cart. She couldn't wait. Maybe the Shinodas would let her wash dishes at Hanamura, but she was pretty sure she could convince them to let her do prep work in the kitchen instead. She was good with a knife. Very good. They knew it too.

It was almost ten, and the morning rush was finally slowing down. She heard an alarm go off in the distance, towards the Union Bank. A few minutes passed, the alarm still blaring. The police still hadn't bothered to show up, not that this really surprised her. Suddenly, there was a loud crack in the middle of the street. A hulking brute of a man appeared out of nowhere, the pavement cracking underneath his feet. He held two large duffle bags, one in each hand. Luisa ducked behind the cart, hoping he wouldn't notice her.

"Well, well, well. I'd heard rumors from my contacts that the Crusaders didn't bother very much with this neighborhood. Looks like the rumor were true."

Dios Mío, he was monologuing right from the start. Damn turistas.

"Girl!" he shouted. "I've need of a hostage. You seem readily available."

Luisa didn't dare move. She hoped he was referring to someone else.

"Stand up girl, and come here. The Imperator beckons you, and you shall obey." Luisa sighed. No such luck that she'd gone unnoticed. She stood, and slowly shuffled toward the turístico. She caught a flash of purple and blue in her peripheral vision as she stepped off the sidewalk and into the street toward whoever this was.

A tennis ball sailed through the air at the turístico, immediately followed by a small chunk of concrete. The turístico didn't flinch at either one of them. He turned toward the alley between Hanamura and the cell phone store.

"Who threw that?!" he bellowed. Luisa noticed little Teddy Barron and Aki Shinoda zipping down the alleyway between the restaurant and the mobile phone store, a purple and a Chargers blue flash disappearing down the alley. There was no one alive who could ever catch the inseparable pair, except for Mrs. Shinoda. She swore that woman had some type of clairvoyance. Luisa sighed, knowing she'd owe the little brats something. Candy had used to work, but the two were getting older, and sugar didn't work as well as it used to on them any longer.

"Quit dallying, girl!" the turístico ordered. Luisa figured if she stalled a little longer, everything would work out.

Sure enough, she was right. She heard a charging handle clack, and a sharp whine follow it. Looking past the agitated turístico, she raised her hand. Three fingers, then four, then back to three, and ending with a shrug. The turístico turned, too late, as the whatever-metal cable shot towards him, four tentacles at the end wrapping around his body. A bluish flash of energy appeared, and he dropped to the pavement.

Tony Aguirre stood with the unorthodox rifle in hand, the cable trailing on the road, still connected to the downed turístico. "Mango, please."

Luisa trotted back to the cart, quickly prepped a bag of mangoes and handed it over to Tony. "On the house, of course," she added.

"Thanks, chica." Tony replied, smacking her gently on the ass. Luisa returned the gesture with a middle finger. He only laughed in response. Tony started dragging the turístico off toward the nearest police station, not caring that his face was being dragged across the pavement. He was a brick, whatever. She saw Rodrigo Fuentes taking the two duffle bags back towards the bank. All was well, all back to normal.

Luisa didn't know where the rumor had started that the Crusaders never came to this neighborhood. Miz Biz or Chiller stopped into Hanamura for sushi platters or udon every so often, and Sunburst had scared her half to death a few Sundays ago when she dropped out of the sky and asked for a serving of mangoes.

It wasn't that they avoided the neighborhood. It's that they hadn't bothered since Lucas Quintero came back from that fancy school on the East Coast.

Rose Bunny wrote: It occurs to me that since Zephyr and Elle have very similar powers, ... the entire campus could be awash in a big old cold snow fight...

I'm assuming that, with no active POV characters except Elle in Dickinson, there isn't already a scene like this in the works:

January 11^th, 2008, Dickinson

"Ugh. Please," she thought to herself, as she clutched the fabric in an attempt to stop the duvet from being yanked out from above and below her, unsuccessfully, "for the love of fuck someone remind me why I don't shove this ginger bitch into one of Penny's wormholes and trap her there?" As she tumbled to the floor, she shrieked as her pajama shirt rode up and she felt how cold it was.

"Holy godsfucking hell! Why is it so cold in here!?!?" was all she could manage, as the blanket was ripped from her grasp and replaced on the bed. She eyed her roommate with a glare as cold as the room itself and saw that she wasn't the only one who thought it was far too cold. Danielle was, technically, in her school uniform, if you could see it underneath the heavy coat, mittens, thick tights and a scarf so long, if it wasn't the wrong colours then she'd be accused of doing Tom Baker cosplay! Never minding that the best Doctor was obviously David Tennent, though she admitted that it was very, very close.

"Hmm? Oh, well, the hot water's on in the showers, but then, Penny was saying that was only because she was able to spend a few hours looking for the boiler." Wait. What. The. Hell? It'd taken Sarah a bit of time, but Sarah knew Penny wasn't stupid. A lot of those early mornings when she jerked herself awake and itched enough that she couldn't sleep, and since Penny only ever slept for eight "real world" minutes, the two had bonded well enough to know that although the mannerisms were real, the ditsyness wasn't. But Penny? Fix a boiler? What the? The Californian didn't have anywhere near the engineering know-how to do that!

"But... but... what was wrong with the boiler?" She asked while trying to keep her general body shape. Fucking hell it was cold, enough so that her power was subconsciously shrinking her, compacting her form to retain body heat. Why couldn't the soul-less one have just left her in bed, where the blanket at least helped her keep warm?

"Errr... well, Penny said she saw one of the seniors come down and pick a fight with Elle late last night. Apparently Elle's body clock is still on Norway time so she was up past midnight. They ended up getting into it and you know how Elle is. That girl could give the northerners a run for their money in terms of going out in the cold naked."

Elle sighed as she closed her book. It would be another month before she reached Whateley, and that had been the last of her reading material. Oceans don't have many libraries, after all. She'd download an e-book on her cellphone, but there weren't cell towers out here either. Not that she had much electricity to spare; the solar panel mounted on the back of her sleigh barely kept her GPS and dash cam running.

A sleigh. It had sounded like a good idea at the time. No airport security, no crowds or annoying seatmates, no confusing layovers or transitions from train stations to airports... And who doesn't enjoy an adventure through the wilderness? It had sounded good, like a sort of vacation. The reality of a three month sleigh ride with nobody but Aegloswen and four reindeer to keep her company, however, was another matter, even before considering the fact that the vast bulk of the trip was spent crossing large spans of ocean. Sure, Iceland had been neat, and she'd had a very nice meal just before leaving Greenland, but now she was freezing her own personal road across the Atlantic again, and there was nothing else to look at besides reindeer rump and the occasional whale. Even the clouds were boring today, a drab, uniform blanket from horizon to horizon.

At least these weren't normal reindeer. Lukt, Urolig, Skjegg, and Den Uhellige had been borrowed from a biodevisor, Destinasjones Bonde, on the condition that Elle recorded video of their performance during the trip. It had something to do with a beta test, whatever that was, but it meant she got to use them almost for free. They were a big improvement over normal critters. These beauties could cover nearly forty miles a day across the bucking ice she created, and they could keep it up for six days a week, even with all the feed, food, and water they were pulling. It was stored in special devisor barrels so it didn't take up much space, but it still weighed the same. At least the ocean was relatively flat, waves notwithstanding; a silver lining to the boredom it posed.

Elle checked her GPS. She had about a week of this to go, still, then she'd be in Canada and things would get more interesting. It was summer, so she'd need to deploy the sleigh's wheels where roads were available, and she'd construct her own paths of snow and ice where they weren't, crossing bogs, rivers, and lakes to cut corners. It would take a lot more of her attention than cutting a straight path across the ocean. She'd probably be sick of it by the time she reached the USA, let alone Whateley, but in the here and now, she craved it. Anything would be better than this endless expanse of blue-gray water.

A decidedly non-oceanic smell wafted into her nose, and she frowned at Lukt. She only had a week's worth of ocean left to endure, but the reindeer farts would continue for the full month of her remaining voyage.

Next year she was going to fly, crowds be damned.

"Excuse me, Miss Lee?" Elisia Grimes strode up to Bladedancer, with Palantir, Clover and Abracadabra in tow. The three girls were soot- blackened, their clothing was torn and burnt, and the very tip of Clover's 'witch-hat' gave off a thin stream of smoke.

"Yes?" Chou asked, pausing as she absorbed the girls' condition. "What happened?"

"Miss Lee," Grimes continued primly, "Your gift unto Estelle of that packet of Essence was very magnanimous and open-hearted. AND, it does clearly demonstrate WHY learning the gathering of Essence ON ONE'S OWN, and nurturing and cultivating it into a workable mass is such a fundamental part of a beginning mage's training." Noting the wisp of smoke from the tip of Clover's hat, Grimes wetted a thumb and forefinger and quenched the ember. "BUT, for their sake- and the sake of everyone in a five-mile radius- would you please not repeat the gift?" Then she sternly cleared her throat. "Girls! To the classroom! Pages 35-to 52 of 'Basic Essence Cultivation Techniques! 20 Copies! NOW!"

As the three girls trudged off, Irene grumbled, "It should'a worked..."

Grimes started to say something in correction, but she paused mutely when she spotted Clover's 'Witch Hat', and for the life of her, couldn't remember where she'd seen it before.

Moved to scald crow thread.

Gus wasn't looking forward to it, but he knew he had to check in on his Problem Children at some point today, and if he did it at lunch rather than waiting until they were at the Ranges he might be able to get some practice in himself rather than having to keep whatever trouble Mads was going to cause from reaching the point where Gunny Bardue had to step in. As he stepped into the Crystal Hall, however, he found that Kris was with Berets, while Marcia and Edward were with the Nerd Herd.

He scanned the tables until he saw one close to the waterfalls, in one of the areas known by students to be hard to snoop on. A glimpse of honey-blonde hair let him find Spindrifter, and turning a corner he saw Metro and Valravn talking to...

Telluride stopped short. There were three others around their small table, and the six of them seemed very busy with hushed conversation. He was stunned to see one of them was Sted; he'd heard how Mads' "little chat" with Ponygirl had ended, and while he had no idea why she'd passed out, her pained expression made it clear that she was not happy to be speaking to them again.

But the other two at the table worried him even worse: Judicator and Cheese.

He hesitated, knowing that this couldn't possibly end well. Everyone had heard about that Bad Seed's little 'performance' with the New Olympians back in September; the fact that Elizabeth Masa was there too made it clear that whatever was going on was not the sort of thing some poor mortal teenager ought to be messing around with. And if some of the things Mads and Thomas had hinted at were true, Cheese wasn't just involved with the 'Lympies somehow, but with the Asgardians as well, which might be connected to why they had Marandi with them, too.

On the other hand, whatever badness this was going to lead too was all too likely to splash on Gus. Whatever this was, he probably needed to know, and maybe pass it along to Gunny as well.

While he was dithering on the matter, he saw Envy and Phase join the palaver.

Gus knew when he was outnumbered and out-gunned. He turned around and went for the food line. Checking in on them could wait, anything he did now would just muddy the waters.

"You know, Viv, you could probably use that 'Carmen Sandiego' gag even better," Jessie said with a bright and vicious gleam, "I bet you could talk J.D. into a road trip to rural Michigan..."

Seeing their sister fuming at the implied joke, J.D. poured salt on the wound by adding, "Well, at least she didn't suggest an alpine village in Austria."

"I thought about it," admitted Jessie, "but the name wasn't quite right, you know? It ends in '-ing', which kinda breaks the phrasing."

"Oh, yeah, good point."

Vivian just glared at them both.

Mangy Moose, Jackson Hole, WY

Annalisa basked in the afterglow of another successful set, as she often did. Sometimes she wished she could feel the crowd's excitement directly and really blow the roof off a place, but she could accept pretending. She'd heard receptives got panic attacks from the crush of so many conflicting feelings.

Her band, Urgent Ride, had absolutely crushed it tonight. Their regular Foreigner and Foghat covers mostly, and by the sixth song, the crowd was totally eating out of her hand. Brian was in prime form on the drums, and she just fed off it and started feeding it back into the crowd. Wes wasn't playing too fast, for once, probably because of the three shots of Knob Creek she'd forced on him. Craig was his usual professional self, blasting out the lead guitar so cleanly, Annalisa sometimes wondered if he was actually an exemplar. Craig was pushing 50, by far the oldest member of their band, but she never once considered replacing him. Brian had been their third drummer since she started the band in her senior year of high school. She of course knew Wes from World History.

Dad had introduced her and Craig. It was weird at first, playing with a man 25 years your senior, but when you find someone who can figure out the tabs of any song he listens to a second time, you don't give it a second thought.

He was probably an exemplar. He just didn't look it. Thankfully, he hadn't ever considered a skullet. Brian shaved his head religiously, three times a week. A slight pot belly made him look like a slob from time to time, but once he started playing, the only thing he ever got was respect.

Wes was probably out of his league at this point. He spent more and more time strung out at work. Or strung out, off work.

Either way, once they'd played "Juke Box Hero", Annalisa had started projecting to the crowd and her bandmates. Once they were literal putty in her hands, she snuck in several Dorothy songs, her current obsession, and even managed to sneak in their rock cover of "Everybody." Thanks high school. The crowd ate it up, thanks to her.

Annalisa was about to cut into a heavy metal version of "I Just Want to Make Love to You" for their encore when she heard a man's voice bellow, "MCO! Everyone on your knees, hands on your head!"

She would have dropped her prized PRS SE Custom 24 Lefty if not for the strap. Her panic bleed into the crowd, and soon only chaos reigned. The MCO agents started unloading rounds into the ceiling, and that only made things worse, for both Annalisa and her audience. She caught a flash of powder blue by the door. MCO power armor! The crowd only got more crazy.

A woman rushed the stage, clad in black leggings and red bodysuit over it. The woman threw a sheet a fabric over her, and Annalisa started to freak out.

"Stop projecting for God's sake!" shouted the woman. "It's a kevra cloak. I'm being paid enough to use it on you. Consider yourself among an elite group. Loved your cover of 'Dark Nights,' by the way. " Annalisa tried to hold in her panic, but she was pretty sure it was still leaking out.

She peeked out of the hood of the apparently bulletproof kevra cloak, and saw the MCO power armor operators rushing the stage. The mysterious woman pointed a finger at the power armor jockeys and one of their legs simply disappeared. It bulged, expanded, for a second, and then it was just gone.

The woman rushed Annalisa out the side exit, occasionally turning around, with a cry of agony coming back from down the hallways and corners. There was an Audi SUV with the engine running to greet them. The woman threw her into the back, guitar and all, and sprinted around the vehicle into the driver's seat. Annalisa noticed the ruby-red nail polish as the mysterious woman gripped the wheel. They were hitting the freeway at over 100 miles per hour when Annalisa finally shucked off the cloak and asked the woman the question that had been driving her insane the last 10 minutes.

"Who paid you?" Annalisa accused, wary of the woman, but even more suspicious.

"Daddykins, of course," the woman replied matter of fact, "Premium Extraction Package, no less."

Well. Annalisa figured she owed her father an extra-long kiss on the cheek when she came back home this Christmas as they drove into the entrance of the regional airport.

Side conversation at the Euro-Promotional League Table


Metro (hoping to broach the subject of training teams): "... Honestly, six to eight is probably the ideal squad size, according to most small-unit tactics manuals. Even the Justice Thingees ..."

Rorsmand: "The what?"

Metro: "Justice League this, Justice Society that. For all I know, there's probably even a Justice League Antarctica stuffed somewhere. Maybe an X-Team Australia while they're at it, for all I know."

Reach: "Um, Mads?"

Metro: "Yeah?"

Reach: "There was a Justice League Antarctica. I found an issue in my old man's old comic books. Which explains a lot. "

Metro: "I'm sorry. I thought I just heard you say there was?"

Reach: "Without a Plastic Man or Elongated Man to bail them out, they mostly sucked."

Phase: "For the record, there was also a significant period in Uncanny X-Men history during which the team was headquartered in Australia."

Metro: "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear any of that for the sake of my sanity. They were just examples. Anyway, successful teams much bigger than that tend to act more like platoons or frickin' companies. All too soon, there are command-and-control issues and..."

Reach: "Did you know there was a Batman Incorporated?"

Metro: "I think I'm going to be ill."

Valravn: "Since you're not going to eat your fries, I'll finish them."

Reach: "You know what? I think Mads would make an excellent Baby-Bat!"

Phase: "Would that be Aaron Langstrom, or Damian ibn al Xu'ffasch?"

Rorsmand: "Wasn't there a shooty one?"

Reach: "Jason Todd. But who the hell would give that guy magic?"

Valravn: "Funny, that's what this one's teammates asked when he showed up for a meet with his customized AK-97. Except for the nine-year-old. Maxx volunteered to finish the mods."

Metro: "Some days I really regret sticking to nonlethal rounds on campus."

Spark: "So. M. Todd, are you enjoying your visit to Whateley Academy?"

Metro: "Gentlemen, Ladies. Please excuse me - I'm sure there's a bully or two who needs his teeth kicked in or something before BMA."

Reach: "Not much a fan of the genre, is he?"

Valravn: "He's had to read some stuff for his Costume class. Otherwise, unless it's written in a dead language about irritating things bigger than him, covers some arcane aspect of music composition that no one cares enough to pretend to understand, or features the latest in arms and munitions, Mads is quite capable of pretending he's illiterate."

Reach: "You forgot porn."

Rorsmand: "No. He didn't." Reach turns a little pale. "And no, you don't want to know."

It all started when Metro dropped the duckie. Of course Officer Delarose had happened to be nearby. It was some unfortunate form of coincidence. But the proof was there, plain to see.

“Metro, son… listen. I know you and Razorback are having some sort of feud, but you were warned about this. Report to the range after school for a refresher course. I’ll notify Eldritch. Oh, and Mads? Do show up this time.” Chief Delarose frowned and handed the offending item back to the boy, who took it and grumbled something in a confusing mish-mash of Danish, Klingon, and a language that if identified, would have gotten him detention in the vaults of the Mystic Arts department for the rest of the school year.

Bill Mathis, new to the security department, scratched his head and frowned. “What was all that about, and why is a rubber duck a problem?”

Delarose sighed and explained. “That one, in addition to being on the security auxiliaries AND the ultra-violent list… don’t ask… has been having a, shall we say, spirited rivalry with Razorback. Don’t ask me how, but somehow he determined that one of the sounds that Razorback has problems with, due to the sensitive nature of his hearing, is … the squeaking of a rubber duck. Since then, we’ve had to add said bath-time toy, and other squeaky toys to the dangerous weapons list.”

Bill Mathis looked at his boss sheepishly. “Um… sir?”

Looking at his newest employee, Franklin Delarose knew the next thing he would utter would not be music to his ears. “Yes, what is it?”

Mathis swallowed hard and responded. “I’m not sure if you are aware, but I happen to have a Corgi. Does this mean that…?”

Franklin sighed and nodded. “Yes, squeaky dog toys are included. Looks like Metro won’t be alone at the range tonight.”

Bill Mathis sighed and wondered how he would explain to both his fiancee and his young ward that they needed to attend training on the safe use of squeak toys that evening.

Rated R! read on but don't say you weren't warned

Mississippi

Wendy moved some filthy pots with a mix of water and something in each them out of the way to gain just enough inches of counterspace to dice up a shallot from the backyard. Tired of playing "What's That Smell?" for the morning, she was determined to have a nice breakfast.

She found a presumably clean bowl and started whisking the three eggs for an omelet with a fork and peeked into the living room. Ma was on the couch, passed out drunk, as usual.

She'd save half in the fridge for Ma, if she woke up in the next four hours that is. The butter was hot, so she dumped in the mix and grabbed a spatula and delicately lifted the corners, letting it seep under the cooked parts of the omelet.

Wendy had come back from college a few hours to the north to start her summer break. Well, as much of a break as she got before she continued with work-study in a couple a weeks. Grants and an scholarship for low-income students only gets a girl so far. Spending money was crucial. The sorority girls in her classes had meant well, but it isn't philanthropy because a fellow classmate isn't wearing makeup and hasn't been to the salon in a few months. Being pitied never felt good. She refused to let others feel sorry for her, because it only made her upset. It was stupid, because Wendy rarely needed to wear makeup. But now she did anyway to keep up appearances. Nail polish covered the fact that her nails really did glitter naturally. 'Sorry, Rebecca, I can't remember where I found that color,' she'd lied the first time it had been noticed. She redid her nails once a week, or whenever she knew that her roommate Hattie was in lab.

Distracted, she didn't notice that the top of the omelet wasn't cooking until the edges had built up so much that she wouldn't be able to get the rest of it underneath. She tried to toss it in the pan, only to be met with a folded-over mess in the pan. She hadn't even added the shallots and cheese in yet!

Just because you were an exemplar, didn't mean you did everything perfectly she thought to herself. Breakfast scramble it was then.

Wendy opened the drawer for a clean fork to eat with and found none. Shit. "Spoon it is," she muttered to herself. She ate with only the dripping sink, Ma's gentle snoring in the background, and occasionally the neighbor's chickens in the distance. Finished, she looked to the huge pile of stuff in the sink and simply rinsed her plate off and wedged it in the side. She'd get to these in a bit. Another glance into the living room told her that the other half of the omelet went into a sandwich bag and into the fridge.

Wendy slinked into the living room and grabbed the grubby-looking, but clean enough blanket over the back of the couch to put on Ma. Nothing more than a few crumbs to shake out. With a quick smile, she flipped the blanket around herself and snuggled up next to Ma.

"Wes?" Ma mumbled in her sleep, "That you?"

"I've been Wendy for years Ma. You picked it."

"Oh yeah," she responded in a half-drunken, half sleepy daze. "Good to have you home sweetpe-"

It was.

Monday morning, as the cock crows, February 4th, 2008, Poe Cottage, Whateley Academy

"Mistress! Oh, Mistress, I thought I'd not live to see you again!"

"Ugh... what time izzit?" Fey's sleep-dulled nerves finally registered the voice and distress, "Koehnes! Where were you? We've been looking all over for you since Friday!"

The distraught gnome was not so far out of it as to not look over at Chaka with a suspicious look and raised eyebrow at the use of 'we'.

"That even includes me, short stuff. Nikki was beside herself, thinking something bad had happened to you. So. What gives?"

The brownie turned back to Nikki, "Mistress, I am afraid I have done a terrible, terrible thing and must humbly beg your forgiveness."

"Koehnes, what did you do? I'm sure we can find some way to make things right if you'll just tell me."

"I... I... I called the Wild Hunt! It was dark and terrible, and though I scoffed it came, and even now I cannot say which was real and which not. There was even one point where it seemed the Huntsman stopped for ... Oh, even now that cannot have been true ... but he commanded us to eat, and all did!"

"What did he stop for, a Goody Mart breakfast combo burrito? Or... you did say hunt... grits and fatback?"

The diminutive fae turned green at the images conjured up by her Mistress' so-called 'roommate'.

"Toni! Koehnes, sweetie, calm down so we can start back from the beginning. How did you even know to call the Hunt?"

"Please, please forgive me, but I was so angry at that Leanne creature ..."


Crystal Hall

Despite the morning crowds, Fey had no problem finding the target of her ire in the cafeteria. The singular spiritual hangover pounded at her empathic senses.

"... I can still feel the cholesterol clogging my arteries," the malefactor was moaning to his unsympathetic friends.

"I would have words with you, Cousin."

"You must be in trouble. They're breaking out the capital letters."

The cur ignored its fellows to turn the head it was still cradling toward the Queen To Be. "I don't suppose you'd want to discuss the matter here?"

"No. Come."

After several minutes behind a privacy spell, Fey's "cousin" returned to the table and several questioning looks.

"Hej! Don't look at me. I didn't know you could eat the brownies!"

I am going to kill them for this was the first idle thought that came to Liz Carson's mind.

*Now, now, my dear, you know that isn't possible, even for Me* came the voice from one of the two entities she was bonded to. The other one - the Astarte Force, as opposed to Astarte Herself - never communicated so directly.

Looking around, all she could do was shake her head. They had only just finished repairing the damage from the last time a few of the far-too-many divine personages currently on campus went after each other. At least this time, it was more of a prank war than a pitched battle. The only surprise came from which godling had stepped in to stop it all.

She glared at Arachne, who was fully inhabited by Grandmother Spider at the moment; Liz realized she was pissed, as she had been trying to keep a low profile for her Paladin, hoping to keep up the illusion that Simone was merely hosting a minor animal spirit.

Standing beside her was the physical form which Lupine's 'uncle' was wearing as he picked at the thick strands of spider silk still stuck in his fur; the Sun-Stealer had flown off the moment he had been cut free, but by the time they had freed Coyote, Miss Franks was on the scene to ensure he didn't vanish as well. The maintenance crew worked at cutting Tracer and Sun Wu Kong out of the remaining strands of webbing which the spider spirit had used to stop the mayhem which the tricksters were wreaking.

This was not going to be a fun afternoon for anyone.

Unimpressed by the limited useful information that could be squeezed from the tattered remains of Speakeasy's mind, the demon prince resolved to conduct his own hunt through the mortal realm. He took one of his older, more irresistible forms and slunk off into the subterrene gloom.

"Look! A black cat!"

"I don't see that listed as one of the Workshop landmarks. When are you going to admit we're lost?"

"Ah, c'mon! Where's your sense of adventure?"

"I buried it in an old mason jar somewhere..."

"Huh. It doesn't look like Schroedinger, but it's not running either."

"... sealed tightly with the withered remnants of my curiosity. Don't go bothering the poor cat."

Said cat was regarding the two boys with its wide eyes, a trace of moisture forming at its helplessness. It had forgotten how many more footsteps on soft paws this form required to get anywhere. And the tunnels system here would have confused Azathoth were it sane enough for confusion.

"Aw. Want up?"

Anything to get off my feet. Sure. Maybe I can bend the human's mind toward my search.

"Hey! It, no his fur is really soft! Wanna bet it?"

"No, Boy OR girl, I don't want to pet someone else's pussy."

"Bite me."

"Ow!, Not you! Aw, jeez. Cat's tongue on my ear feels funny, k'now?"

"That's what you get for trying to make it ride on your fricking shoulder. Let's go. With any luck we'll find 'Shine's lab before we have to feet you to the cat so it doesn't starve to death."

"See! You do care!"

The boy's blood had tasted horrific: laden with heavy metals, odd pseudohemes, death, gun oil, and rot all surging through arteries and veins in a obscenely syncopated rhythm that hinted at further unnatural behaviors. And yet, even that was a connection of sorts that would allow the child's mental barriers to be bypassed ...

... behind those barriers were locked perversions of mind and sanity which would have thrown its daughter into a homicidal frenzy. It idly took note of some of the more interesting variations and made a list of things to hunt later. On second thought, it took a quick pass at altering a command sequence here or there to sabotage any rival interests.

Soon the paw-aches subsided, though more time passed before it recognized a set of intersecting passages, all alike, that it fancied it recognized. To the human's surprise, it hopped off the shoulder perch and went back to its task, tail held proudly in the air. Goth-moggie was back in the hunt!

Not a Whateley micro, but... well, you'll see. Let's just say I watched a YouTube video of the cutscenes from Injustice 2 and I didn't know where else to post this idea.

The lips of the dark god's stone-like face curled ever so slightly.

At last, I have it. The secret. The Equation. All I need to do is complete the ritual and it will be in my grasp.

He turned away from the... well, let's call it a chalkboard, it wasn't one, but this is how a mortal from Earth might have perceived it... to a table, upon which several instruments lay. In its center, there was an elaborate sigil, which the grim beast set out to complete after so many ages.

No sooner was it enjoined, than a mass of eldritch energy appeared above it, both glowing and dark at once. Slowly, ever so slowly, the mass began to coalesce, eventually forming...

He wasn't sure what it was. His servitors seemed equally puzzled. It seemed to have several forms at once, but the one constant of it all was that he and all around knew instinctively that it was a key.

With something approximating joy in his dark heart, the god reached out and grasped it. It seemed to writhe in his hands, yet, he knew immediately that it was what he had spent...

"Excuse me," came a voice from behind him, "I believe that that is mine."

Darkseid spun to face the speaker, only to find that they... She was as nebulous as the device in his hand. The only constant about her was that she was female, and arrayed in dark clothes. Still, he got a sense of a mortal female... or not mortal at all... of a bipedal species unknown to him, though the general form was common enough.

"I said, that's mine," She repeated. "I appreciate you finding it and all, but I really need it. My closet's been getting very full of souls the past few eons, and I need to get them to where they are going."

He stood there staring at this... wisp of a creature, barely half his height, as she demanded the fruits of untold ages of effort!

In a fury, he lashed out at this... woman.. with the mightiest power available, intending to erase her from existence itself.

It had no effect.

"Uhm, you do know that can't possibly affect me, right? It's sort of a contradiction."

Just how long he held her in his Omega Beam, he could not say, but clearly, nothing was happening. At last, he ended the torrent of energy directed at her, his curiosity finally exceeding his rage.

"Who are you?" he demanded, in a voice that would have slain some mortals by its forcefulness alone.

She just shrugged. "Really? Is that how you're going to play this? At least the guy in that other dimension recognized me, and he wasn't half what you are, most of the time." Impatiently, she snatched the Anti-Life Equation from his hands, faster than he could see.

"Well, I guess I might as well get going, then... OK, listen, you did me a solid, and honestly, God or not, you probably won't remember this later. Hell, I'm guessing you're going to go back to looking for this, because you'll have forgotten it... you do know what this is, right?"

"The Anti-Life Equation. The secret of unending misery. The key to my final triumph."

She gave him a bemused look. "Damn, I can't help wonder who it was that fed you that line of shit, but no, nothing like that. It's a key all right, but not in that sense."

"So then... a key to what?"

"The Afterlife," she said with a smirk, "One of my sisters kinda... mislaid it a few eons ago, and I've had one hell of a time finding places to put all the souls of the Dead that have been accumulating ever since. Seriously, you oughta see my closet, it's packed."

A look of horrified confusion passed over the Lord of Apokolips' face, uncertain if he understood what he'd heard.

"Anyway, thanks for getting this back for me. Just do me a favor, and don't kill the Kryptonian right away when you meet him in, oh, a few turns of the Milky Way Galaxy from now? That would save me a lot of trouble, 'kay? taa!"

Billie looked up when the doors crashed open. A hulking gray man in blue spandex stood in the doorway, splinters of wood still falling through the air around him as he glared across the library at her. She sighed and pressed the concealed button to summon a maintenance crew. "How can I help you, uh..." She snapped her fingers a few times, struggling to recall where she'd seen this guy before. "Concretious, right? From Twain?"

"I know nothing of this Twain!" he growled as he stomped toward her desk. "I am here for the Anti-Life Equation!"

"Really? Because you don't look like somebody who'd be in Emerson or Melville, and I've met all the Poesies and Thornies. Or I thought I had. Are you new?" While she talked, she ran her eyes quickly over the library, then nodded to herself. "I think what you're looking for is either going to be in one of the Advanced Hyper Dimensional Non-Euclidean Mathematics texts, which are in that bookcase over there by the ficus, or it'll be in the Encyclopedia of Tactical Mathematics, which is on the other side of that shelf by the mirror."

The man's eyes narrowed. "You cannot fool Darkseid so easily, girl!" He slammed his fist onto the desk, reducing it to splinters. "Now reveal the equation!"

Billie frowned; that had almost certainly set off the silent alarm, so now she'd have to deal with security as well. "I already told you where to look. If you hurry, you might even be able to find it before security gets here. Now please get out of my way. I need to sweep up this mess you've made." She shoved past him, then hesitated. "Oh, and lower your voice. This is a library."

The strange man grabbed her by the arm and began to shout something in her face, but she stopped him with a finger against his lips. "Careful," she hissed, then made a show of smiling and patting his arm as she glanced at the security camera. "This armband means I'm Section 33, understand? You're going to get yourself expelled if you don't calm down." She was going to need to find out which cottage he was from and give them a piece of her mind. Neglecting to inform the late arrivals about the armbands could get somebody hurt. "Now hurry up and let go of me before they think we're fighting."

"Cease your prattle and obey my will," Darkseid growled before slapping her with his free hand.

Billie blinked in surprise as her skull fused back together. "Are you insane?!"

"Your species' primitive standards of sanity do not interest me. You will tell me the Anti-Life Equation or suffer the wrath of Darkseid!"

"I work in-" Billie stopped and lowered her voice, then started over. "I work in a library, Backside, but that doesn't mean I've memorized or even read every book. Now let go of me." He ignored her demand and held an open palm before her forehead instead. That was weird, but the only thing it seemed to do was make him more frustrated. She tried to pull her arm free, but he tightened his grip and she felt her humerus snap. Gritting her teeth in anger, she created a sword in her free hand and prepared to remove his arm, then glanced at the security camera again and thought better of it. She removed her own arm instead, then began flying away.

She made it all of two feet before Darkseid appeared in front of her, ripped off her other arm, and casually knocked her head from her shoulders. He watched with interest as her head and limbs rapidly regrew. The head reached completion and opened its eyes before the body could even finish falling. She rose gracefully into the air, hovering before him as though nothing had happened.

No, not quite, Darkseid realized. Her eyes had been golden before. Now they were glowing a blue-green color, and her body language was different. His scowl deepened; it appeared this one would fight back after all. He raised his fist, then froze. Obscene numbers were boiling off of the girl's lips, dripping from her ears, and oozing out of her pores. This was it! The Anti-Life Equation! Darkseid watched, mesmerized, as she slowly raised a hand, fractal afterimages of equations echoing through reality with every movement. Then she thrust it through his chest. A distant part of his awareness swore in alarm, but the rest of him was paralyzed in awe as he felt the equation cascade through his very being. He was impossible to kill, able to rematerialize even after complete destruction, and yet this beautiful equation held the solution. Through the material plane and the spirit, between them and beyond, all that was Darkseid was being operated upon, decomposed by the omnimatrix. The perfection was complete, and Darkseid was no more.

Billie settled to the ground and stumbled, then blinked and looked around herself in confusion. She noticed the empty blue leotard on the floor amid a rapidly evaporating mound of ashes. "Oops." She staggered backward a step as guilt and fears of expulsion chased each other through her mind. "I never even found out which cottage he was in..."

EDIT: I meant to have a link to Null0Trooper's earlier Metro micro which this refers to. Sorry for the omission.

COMMENTS
Fake. This is from a Dutch advert from about five years ago.
gjstirling1986 0505 UTC

More like Rudolph The Bloodyt Gene Freak.
BarryDaBear231 0512 UTC

@gjstirling1986 dont u mean danish?
itsameemario88 0513 UTC

No way this is real. That guy looks way too young.
aang4pres 0516 UTC

@BarryDaBear231 Takes one to know oe. He's ore o a man than youu, yoou wanker.
karen_elliot42 0520 UTC

What kiund of fukkin country puyts genescum in uniforms?
RaptureComesSoon11 0527 UTC

@aang4pres rn't u past ur bedtime, kiddy? It's bloody early here, it must be even midnitew here u r.
martyb91 0533

@aang4pres The source says theyre Junior ROTC. Lots of public schools have those. I went to Eton and we had that.
hugh_janus 0534

>What kiund of fukkin country puyts genescum in uniforms?
@RaptureComesSoon11 Yours, you stupid fucking Yank.
gjstirling1986 0541 UTC

@hugh_janus fun3 name dude, WTF is ROTC?
aang4pres 0556 UTC

@aang4pres got 2 bed ur mum's calling..
martyb91 0557

hugh_janus No public school I've ever heard of has ROTC, that's a college thing. You'r full of shit, and what's Eton?
MrsTimberlake 0604 UTC

@hugh_janus Someone who went at Eton using that screen name? Lying wanker.
BarryDaBear231 0604 UTC

@MrsTimberlake FU, fkaegirl. I see u on GEO ur profile says m & BE so ur full of shitit kek kek kek
itsameemario88 0606 UTC

@MrsTimberlake Sorry, let me get my English to American Dictionary. 'Public School' == 'Boarding School'. Eton College is one of the oldest, a very respected school.
hugh_janus 0603 UTC

@itsameemario88 I think you mean someone else. I'm a 19y.o. soph at UMich I was working late and was taking a break which is why I'm up now. BE is Belgiam, right?
MrsTimberlake 0604 UTC

@BarryDaBear231 Nlow it out your arse, basewhine.
StonedSouperman 0604 UTC

Wow, is ne1 gonna talk abtou the picture?
HermioneLuv112 0605 UTC

@BarryDaBear231 I came up with that name a long time ago. I grew up since then. You should try it.
hugh_janus 0608 UTC

Inspired by Like a Candle in the Wind

Tennyo sighed as she walked up to Twain Cottage, as she hoped it went better than her first visit. She walked into the common room. Looking around she saw a few people she knew, but before she could say anything, one of the boys yelled out,"Girl on the floor. GIRL ON THE FLOOR!" Which quickly changed to "Tennyo on the floor. TENNYO ON THE FLOOR!"

Several of the boys dove behind furniture or tried to run upstairs. Tennyo shook her head as Montana turned to her, "Uh. I want to say I'm sorry for everything I did to you, and to Chaka. I... Well I'm sorry and it won't happen again."

Tennyo took a deep breath, "Apology accepted, but you should really apologize to Chaka too.

"I already have, and to Sensei Ito. Uh, Harry's not around if you were looking for him."

"Nope, I'm looking for Bloodwolf. Is he around?"

"Not sure. Hey Newt go see if he's around."

Tennyo regaled Montana with some stories about Solange from Phase's side while they waited. Montana mumbled about needing to apologize to her too, and at Tennyo's look he said. "I was rude to Phase, and she was still polite back. It isn't very important, but I didn't have any reason to be rude other than you're her friend."

Newt came back down the stairs, "Bloodwolf said he isn't here right now."

Montana stared at Newt.

Tennyo shook her head, "Tell him that his library book..." she looked at a piece of paper, "... The History of Hello Kitty is overdue and if it isn't returned tomorrow the fine doubles." Then she looked up at Montana, "I get that a lot."

She turned and walked out of Twain heading back to Poe.

Like A Candle in the Wind wrote: Of course, there had to be one. This time it was Hermione who raised her hand. "Ms Grimes, why do we need to watch if we already have an athame? I don't need a second one."

Grimes gave her a flat look. "Because it's inevitable that at some point you will need to cleanse and re-attune your athame. If you're unfortunate, or careless, a number of times..."

Miss Grimes struggled with the intense urge to leave the three to their own devices and whatever their richly-deserved rewards may be. However, "Irene. Bethany. Estelle. How many times have I told you three to be careful with your tools and where you leave them? You are very, very lucky that Caitlin decided it would be too much trouble to melt them down into crucifixes. This time."

Like A Candle in the Wind wrote: There are all sorts of things that can affect your working tools, some quite unpleasant.

Chaka looked on with ill-disguised horror as the thing blocking their retreat appeared to be digesting the formerly impervious mithril scimitar. "Uh, Nikki? This wouldn't happen to be an oops-worthy moment, would it?"

Like A Candle in the Wind wrote: In these cases, the simplest way of fixing the problem is usually to re-purify and re-attune the tool. And in that case, it's something you'll want to know how to do rather than having to go read up on it."

Technicalities count, don't they? mused the young-looking man as he eased the makeshift shiv back out of his (former) cell-mate. From the depths of his battered mind he called up a diagram and a string of words. A tuft of hair made for an improvised brush.

He muttered "But when life loses its meaning and is taken for naught..." to himself and his God, wherever that One may be hiding his face in the darkness.

It was going to be a hot time on the Butcher's Row tonight.

Like A Candle in the Wind wrote: Calista grinned at AJ. "Oh, you can go nuts if you want, feel free to blow yourselves up. This is just to protect your lab partners.

Their third, (or was it fourth?) lab partner hit the door release at a full run after hearing Valravn ask "If C4 is the answer, what exactly was the question?" while looking over Metro's ingredients list for the next part of the lab exercise.

Eldritch walked down the street, oblivious to the squealing of the rusty wheelbarrow she pushed. Residents gaped at her naked, tattooed body, but she was too focused on her working to care. Leaves of oak, fruits from the bowels of the Earth, a great beast's detritus, a crystal of purity, five links from the chain of love, the cold heart of a thief; the list of ingredients seemed to have no end, but she would persevere. The leaves were trivial; she grabbed a damp pair from the side of the street as she recovered an empty aluminum can for the second requirement. She'd already collected a shredded piece of tire from an eighteen wheeler before she left the highway. For the crystal, she reached into a trash bin as she passed and recovered a broken bottle. Nothing that would do for the chain of love was immediately available, but there was a dollar store down the road where she could buy a suitable trinket with the quarters people had been dropping in her wheelbarrow. She sniffed the air, then took a left turn to zero in on the dead raccoon whose smell had led her into this neighborhood in the first place.

Behind a window, the Witch Queen turned to her attendant, who frowned apologetically at her scandalized employer. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I can't believe those people left their bin out again. I will have words with the HOA. Do you want me to call the police about that vagrant?"

The Witch Queen shook her head and turned back to the window, muttering to herself indignantly. "Glass isn't even crystalline..."

Crystal Hall

Alicia Thacker sat at the table with most of the GhostWalkers, though today, Kayda's brother-and-sometimes-sister Danny joined them, as well as Adalie's younger sister Amelie, the latter being unusually clingy. Addy's boyfriend was off with the rest of Team Kimba, talking about fashion or making sim strategies. Addy told her Team Kimba was far more serious than they came off, but she was still at least a little unconvinced.

Passing behind Kayda, Naomi, Evvie, and Addy was the most muscular Freshman Alicia had ever seen at Whateley. He had biceps on biceps, triceps on triceps, his quads looked more like a professional cyclist, and the shirt and pants he was wearing was straining to contain it all. She felt a twinge, before pushing it back down. He wasn't as cartoonish as Bravo, it was all just raw muscle.

Kayda noticed her noticing. So did Danny and Amelie.

"Tristan?" Danny supplied, "He's in my Algebra class."

"Tatanka told me he's the avatar for a crayfish spirit, but I think he's also a manifestor."

"Mudbug? Poor guy."

"Whhat iz a mud bug?" Amelie interjected. It would be better if she simply spoke French. Alicia used to think her own accent was bad before she had roomed with Addy. Amelie was something else.

But dialects aside, this was a very serious crisis. She was pretty sure Europe had them too. France especially.

Addy cut in to save her sister. "They are écrevisse." Her sister's eyes widened in sudden understanding. But that wasn't enough for Alicia.

Alicia looked at Addy's younger sister, her expression suddenly very serious. "You've never had a seafood boil with mudbugs?"

"Je n'ai pas."

"We can fix that…" Alicia smirked.

Sim Arena

A voiced boomed within his head, something Slapdash had long gotten used to.

"Take it easy on him, since it is his first time in the sims, we're trying to calibrate his suit and also make sure his powers are represented accurately based on the results of his power testing."

Dale responded with an affirmative, Gunny had told him to start with the railgun, which didn't sound at all like it was taking it easy on the freshie.

The other boy materialized within the sim environment, which was a fairly standard suburban main street. It looked like late afternoon, but since it was devoid of any people, it gave it a somewhat eerie cast. It all felt wrong to Dale. He trusted his instinct, and something bad was about to happen. Was this all a test?

The other boy, Tristan Breckenridge, or simply Craw, wore a simple costume that had mostly dappled grey and tan material. Blending into an urban environment was smart. So many other students wore flashy costumes that didn't allow themselves any chance to hide the second they moved. Dale could respect someone who at least the bare minimum of forethought.

This wasn't going to be any hunter-seeker sim, this was simply a baseline test. So Dale pulled his railgun forward and aimed it at the Freshie.

In response, Craw took a few deep breaths, and suddenly was surrounded by a ball of water. Four or five feet in any direction around any of his limbs. Well…crap. Dale knew that the faster the projectile, the less water it took to dampen the energy from it. Still…he knew it that the sim crew was using him as a baseline to make sure this freshman's powers were accurately represented.

So he aimed, and fired. The hypersonic round hit the water surrounding the well-built freshman and dissipated in a flash of steam and fragmented metal.

"Permission to use sub-sonic rounds?"

"Granted."

Dale slung his railgun over his shoulder and drew a standard sidearm. It took more water to slow down a heavy subsonic round like a .45ACP. The freshman stopped for a moment, before the mass of water surrounding him expanded to a rough 16 foot diameter. Though he was straining, there was an inexorable slog toward Dale, the freshman clearly readying a pretty basic grabbling stance. Get caught by the sphere of well-controlled water, and get drowned was the message Dale got.

"Aww…crud." The only thing that would keep him safe was speed, and it looked like the freshman was starting to gain some real momentum. Those muscle weren't just for show after all.

Speakeasy's Nightmare continues! Rated Tentacle!

A police car outside Harrold's, London, 2025

Marriella looked outside of the car at the front of the store, and hung her head. The destruction of the wall was horrific, twenty people had died just from the initial breach, with another ten as that madman had proceeded into the store. She had no idea how much the villain had managed to get away with, but it was probably in the hundreds of thousands, if not millions, worth of loot, since she had seen the wreckage of the jewelery section.

They had some expensive shit in Harrold's, after all. She'd only been there since Immogen had wanted to go experience the store, at least once. And now, she was probably going to have to either get a very good lawyer (and good luck with that, on her salery) or else they'd pin it all on her and she'd go directly to jail. Do not pass "go", do not collect 200 dollars, directly there. Funny how being a mutant seemed to throw the normal wheels of justice out the window.

Funny how being a mutant seemed to find up enough "evidence" to disprove "innocent until found guilty".

She stewed in the handcuffs, watching as the overweight, overaged policeman who'd put her in the car talked to one of the building employees, while his fresh-faced partner talked to Immogen. She knew what was going on there. If that boy in the uniform was even old enough to shave, she'd have lost something to a bookie betting on it. He was merely there to keep Immogen from making a fuss while the old guy found something, anything to put Marriella in the picture. It felt like forever until the old cop broke away from the employee, though as soon as he did, the young one talking to her girlfriend practically sprinted over to him.

What was that about?

CnC finished listing the Five Team Roles with "... and Wild Cards: Two or more of the above mixed into an unholy union of ass rape,” glowering in the direction of one of the freshman teams in the Team Tactics class that hadn't been vetted by the Atlantian League's leadership. Having Myth Directions in the class, headed by that MCO plant, was going to be bad enough without a couple more wannabe groups taking up class space.

True to form, some no-name froshie went for the bait.

"Why does everyone always look at me when they say that?"

Gunny Bardue smiled evilly, "Perhaps that's because they know your capabilities so well that they think they can use inappropriate language in MY classroom and get away with it? CnC, you just won your team poll position on today's exercise."

Lucy Jensen walked around campus, with a big overcoat on. The better to cover her new features. to say she had her tail tucked between her legs would be a lie... it was actually curled around her waist a few times. The bright red UV badge on her sleeve made her feel self-conscious. She was also angry. Unfortunately she had no way to work out her irritation at the moment, nobody tough enough was around. She briefly considered requesting a sim, so she could take on Team Kimba or the Grunts, but The Headmistress herself had barred Lucy from all combat, until a solution for her new anti-mutant aggression was found.

Sighing, she trudged on, maybe, if she got lucky, she could find Metro and chase him around for a while.

Front entrance of Poe Cottage
27 April 2007

A number of Poesies watched as Breaker dropped Shrike off at the front door, departing for his own dorm following a passionate kiss that left Della with an uncharacteristically dreamy look on her face.

Zenith and Sahar, two of the ones observing this, nodded knowingly, and Beltane, who was also there, did the same, adding, "Well, I guess that answers that question."

"Yeah", added Angel, "Three in a row, it's hard to see how that's coincidence."

Generator, who was making a last minute check of the mail for Billie, looked at them curiously, and asked, "Three in a row what?"

Zoe sighed, and answered, "Breaker seems to have a thing for folks like you and me, Jade. He used to date a Poesie named Cassie for the last two years, but Howitzer graduated last Spring. Then he went on a few dates with Elaine back in September which, well, let's just say that he doesn't like getting that close to the explosions, right?" She paused to let everyone snicker. "Anyway, now he's seeing Della, even though he's gonna be graduating himself next month."

Semi added, "He doesn't seem to realize what he is doing, or even that there is anything unusual about those he is dating, but it is clear that in some part of his mind, he is attracted to changelings." After a moment, she went on, "I can certain understand that myself," with a bit if a teasing wink to Zoe.

Glyph 3: Ink in her Veins part 2 wrote: “You’re going to have to do better than that,” Crysis stated with a cold sneer. “I don’t know how you ever beat the Messenger.”

"Like this," I said, pulling out the small gun Dominic had given me. I aimed for center of mass and pulled the trigger, then pulled it again three more times for good measure.

Bloodwolf walked around the Quad, nervously. The alpha male had been back, re-marking his territory. As loathe as he was to admit, he was afraid. Afraid of what the alpha male of the school might do. They had almost tangled once, he would have attacked, but the dog's owner was scary. Tucking his tail between his legs, Bloodwolf slunk off, acknowledging that the little corgi was the true alpha male of the school.

"Spell slips? What're those, some kinda permission slip thing?"

Alice appreciated that Annie wanted to help her and be her friend and all, but she had to admit that her roommate tended to get on her nerves. She was about as outgoing as that Becky girl was, but she tended to get in the way in this overly-helpful way of hers, while at the same time acting like a pigheaded jerk without even noticing what she was saying.

Sagacity focused on not messing up, but anxiety got the better of her, and she sort of spluttered, "Uhm do you ever watch, uh, any kind of anime stuff? You know, Naruto or something like that? Spell slips are those magical pieces of paper they use."

The taller girl gave her a smirk that made her opinion of that sort of thing clear. "So it's some kind of Japanese magic? Is that really a thing, or are the finger-wigglers all a buncha weeaboos?

Shrinking back a bit at the way her roomie threw casual insults around, she replied, "Well, they are from China originally, but the are definitely real. They were introduced into Western traditions around the end of the 19th century. It wasn't until the 1920s that Aleister Crowley really popularized them, though."

"Who? Ah, whatever, it's all over my head. You done picking up your crap yet? I want to go check out some of the exercise equipment."

Early January 2008, The Quad, Whateley Academy


"The fearless Pack Stalker looks out over the milling herds of puny pink bipeds. Relatively safe they are - or so they believe - for he's already tucked in today. Any normal theropod'd be chockers. Twice over, in fact. Awwwhhh, but what's this? Crikey! Could it be? Does the great hunter have a rival hunter invading his territory? This bears further investigation!"

Jack 'Razorback' Carlisle turned around and favored the Steve Irwin impersonator with a double-flagged salute. The features and the voice were spot on, but no Banana Bender would be running around in khaki shorts in the middle of a New Hampshire winter. So. Thorn favored Czech & Speake No. 88. Beltane usually wore Bluebell on the weekdays. Bogus didn't have the balls for it; let alone the sense to disguise whatever cheap knockoff he bathed in when he wasn't planning on framing someone.

If Life decides to hand you a functioning Jacobson's organ, you might as well learn to play it.

Jack signed, "What's up, JT?"

'Steve Irwin' answered, "Not much." He pointed over at the 'Razorback chasing Metro' improv show out on the quad. "I wanted you to know I'm not part of that, and, well... Let's just say I was inspired." Jimmy smiled at his own inability to take the wierder aspects of his powers too seriously.

Jack barked out a laugh - it was a good imitation - then signed, "You dropped off the suspects list once Security finally remembered that each UV band issued has a unique tracker."

"Finally?"

"Captain Chipmunk?"

"Yeah,'nuff said there. Wait. I thought Mads works under him?"

"He does."

Nichole Reilly let a sigh, promising The Whatevers That Be she would do something nice for Grimes ,and those of the Mystic arts staff that where still around from her time as a student, for putting up with her. “Ok Monkey Paw, you can remove the manna inhibitor and start building a charge. But stay in the circle.” she growled as she thrust a finger a him.

Monke Paw was a good kid really, but his powers, if they hadn't had a way to mitigate the damage, would’ve likely be dead by now, just from senior magic user having get fed up with him and removed him . He was what she liked to call a Magical Mangler, like Eldritch had and still was. Unlike Cait's Moving Chaos effect, Monkey Paw's powers worked a bit like an unlit well or a non-mage gathering manna; it bleed off quickly with every wish and dream. But in Paw's case the wishes and dreams when't his own and often twisted the results into a monkey paw type result. She shuddered, thinking about the one time Cait and Paw had run in to each other.

It.

Had.

Been.

Bad.

They where still cleaning up the Range 5 area.

Lucy Jensen walked around the campus, enjoying the day off. Things hadn't gone that well since her return from the dead, but now she had a new outlook. As she walked along the edge of the path to the grove, she stopped and took in the bizarre sight before her. The usual Metro vs. Razorback kerfuffle had escalated, and a massive pile of assorted ragers, ne'er-do-wells, and miscreants lay in a heap. Counterpoint was out cold, laying on Buster, who seemed to be pancaked on top of Killstench, The paramedics were madly looking for Bloodwolf's left big toe. Metro hung limply from a tree, while Gore and Flayer wobbled around as though suffering from punch-drunkenness. Razorback and Jimmy T sat on the snowy ground, trying unsuccessfully to get up. In all total, the battlefield was littered with 20 to 30 students in post fight difficulty, in some form or another.


Off to one side, stood Aquerna, talking to a tall, bald man draped in blue.

Lucy shrugged, turned away and pondered what to have for lunch.

Inspired by:

Based on a couple of lines in " The Trouble With Karma ", which is the latest release.

Nikki Reilly looked over the assembled group and nodded at each person there. "Okay, we call to order this session of the 'people who look like other people' support group, everyone remember to introduce yourselves to the group. My name is Nikki, and I look like the Ancient Queen Aunghadhail, as well as Cirque, who was a member of the Mystic Six".

The group collectively said "Hi Nikki"

Next to stand up was the girl to Nikki's immediate left. "Hello, I'm Essylt, and I look somewhat like Nikki, in addition, I suppose I look vaguely like the people Nikki mentioned, and also, I look like the ancient Queen Éiru".

Another collective greeting rose from the group.

Next to stand was the girl to Nikki's right. "Hello, I'm Gwen, and I resemble a distant ancestor, who was related to people that Essylt and NIkki resemble."

The greetings continued.

The next person to stand was a small, black skinned girl that vaguely shared superficial resemblance to the Sidhe present. "My name is Belphoebe, and I am the genetic duplicate of Jobe Wilkins".

More greetings followed.

The final person stood, and introduced themselves. "As you all know, I'm sure, my name is Kayda. and I resemble the spirit of Ptesanwi, the Lakota Prophet of Wakan Tanka."

Another round of greetings occurred, and Nikki took the role of session leader once again.

"Unfortunately, Paige couldn't be here tonight, as it is the full moon, I'm sure though that she will be joining use next week. After the reading of the minutes from last week, we will open the floor to new topics. As a reminder, we had a close call on Thursday, Generator nearly discovered the existence of this group. I needn't remind you of the possible outcomes of such an occurrence, so I remind you to be careful in discussing the group when Jade or Jet are around. We don't need an army of Jades, Jets, Jinns, Janns, etcetera showing up and causing confusion."

As Nikki finished the opening remarks and the reading of the minutes of the pervious meeting, unbeknownst to everyone assembled, a small speck of lint that had been observing quietly suddenly fell to the floor.

Meanwhile, in a room in Poe Cottage, a mischievous girl began to grin.

Kigatilik approached the teepee where the shaman was hiding. He had defeated the powerful avatar, forcing her back inside the structure. Though she had managed to aid the two in the shelter, it would prove to be far too little. The storm had been necessary, after his defeat by the other shaman, and that mysterious snake-witch, he was more careful. This place held more dangers. He could sense the Star-stalker nearby, as well as the feel of old magics. He would make the kill, and escape without having to deal with them.

As he approached the lodging, he sensed another in his path. He saw the trickster god. Coyote stood before him. Surely he did not intend to rob Kigatilik of his prey. Coyote stepped forward and spoke. "Oh great Kigatilik, I would warn you. there is a power here the likes that you are ill-equipped to face, a power so strong that even I shudder to think of it. Open your senses and You will see it."

Kigatilik stopped in his tracks, and stretched out uncertainly with his mind, he could sense it, a danger he could not hope to defeat. That spirit was there, how could it possibly be? He had no chance against it. It wold be unbearable to let his kill go, but survival was of far more importance. Turning, he fled from the scene as fast as he possibly could, taking the storm and its fury with.

----

In the Grove, a small whirl of snow kicked up, in the wake of the spirit's movements. Unseen by anyone, Spirit-chan moved through the trees, playing in the freshly fallen snow.

Aquerna was looking for Jade in Crystal Hall when she heard Razorback's barking laughter. She looked at the Outcasts and saw Razor wiggling his fingers at the rest of them, and then everyone laughing. Razor made a few other noises and Aquerna stared at him thinking.

She slowly walked over to the Outcasts, waving a little to Eldritch as she did.

"Hey Anna," Eldritch said. "What's up?"

Before Anna could answer, Jericho spoke up in a bad villain sort of way, "Yeeesss, what does the cutesy one want?"

Diamondback threw a roll at his head, and said, "Shut up and let her talk."

Anna looked a bit shyly at the group, "Uh, I just noticed that Razor was using that sign language, but he can make all those different sounds. So I was wondering why he can't talk."

Jericho answered, "Well he can't can't make human speech sounds because he..."

Deimos cut him off before he spent the rest of the afternoon explaining. "I don't think she needs the full explanation."

"OK, so he can't speak English, or any other human language, but neither can the squirrels and I can talk to them. It isn't really English, and I fill in some of the words. But," she made a couple of chittering sounds, "basically means 'look out a trap', and" a slightly different chittering sound, "means 'look out a cat.'"

All the Outcasts stared at her, and she kind of wilted under the glare, but she continued on, "So if you could put English words to some of Razor's sounds, he could at least 'speak' something. Sure people would have to learn what he means, but even 'yes' and 'no' would help."

Eldritch turned to the rest of the Outcasts, "How come none of us thought of this? Anna gets my vote for smartest kid here."

Jericho abruptly stood up and declared with arm raised, "To the English Department!"

'Noms went, "Huh. Why the English Department?"

Jericho looked around, "Do any of you know which words and phrases we should assign to which sounds me roommate makes? I surely don't and it's going to be a limited number so we need real advise."

Anna spoke up one last time before they rushed off, "Make sure one of them is 'I love you,' because I am sure that Jack's Mom wants to hear that."

As Jack came around the table he grabbed Anna and pulled her into a big hug. Sign language worked, but it didn't always convey the feeling well, nor did his translator.

Dana stomped around the Quad, mad as hell. There was a definite sense of irritation and frustration to her, one that even Jinx couldn't fix. From the bench across the way, Essylt sat and watched the redhead stomp around. Her sidhe hearing allowed her to hear every curse and grumble. She watched as Amanda put her arms around Dana and gave her a hug, and a peck on the cheek. Still, Sphere was mad. When Essylt heard Dana mention "Pinball", in combination with 'Minneapolis', 'Heroes', and 'Jail'. Essylt sighed and shook her head. She pulled the hood of her cloak over her head and slunk off in the other direction. There were downsides to Whateley, and having your Mother arrest one of your friends' family was certainly one of them.

Manhattan, Upper East Side
Tuesday. April 30th, 1946, 2 PM

The man calling himself Siegfried Weiss, MD., PhD., draped an arm around the poor, troubled woman who he had just finished a session with, and with a smile stated, in his thick Viennese accent, "I am so pleased with your progress, my dear. I am certain..." he briefly paused, then after blinking for a moment, continued, "yes, quite certain that you husband will understand that your need for additional... companionship will work out to his own benefit as well."

The gleam in his eye was quite real, as he considered his 'prescribed treatment' of several female prostitutes for her, including at least one of the prepubescent girls he knew her husband frequented, but was dulled somewhat as his attention was drawn to the powerful presence he felt approaching.

Once she had left, he told the well-heeled dominatrix who served as his secretary by day to hold his next appointment.

Returning to his office, Mephisto dropped his current guise, quickly donning something less likely to draw attention. He was concerned that attention was already at his doorstep, but he needed to find out who this stranger was, especially if it were someone who might be in league with the White Brothers. Or worse.

Finding his way to another office through a path most people wouldn't understand, he exited a service closet as an aging janitor, his disguise giving him a Hibernian cast and his elevator shoes making him seem taller than usual. Peering around a corner, he saw a severe-faced young man in a clerical collar striding down the hallway purposefully.

The stranger paused for a moment to read the sign on "Dr. Weiss"'s office. The man sneered, but continued forward, passing Mephisto on the way to another door. Mephisto groaned inwardly; clearly, the stranger had understood the significance of the pseudonym, something few had done yet, despite it being just twelve years since the previous 'practice' in this same city had been shuttered by the Dark Avenger in spectacular fashion.

Mephisto's heart started pounding when he saw where the priest was headed. He knew what was in that office; he'd chosen his own office so he could keep an eye on the folk at the law firm of Ward, Vaughan, and Pickman.

Sowing chaos was one thing, but dealing with the forces those people called upon was something else entirely, and the Red Monks needed to know what they were up to. That had been his main purpose in restarting this racket, in fact, something he'd rather not be doing at such a delicate time - but it was just that delicacy, in the aftermath of the war, that made it so vital to keep a lid on it.

This wasn't going to end well. If that gaunt young preacher was the one he'd heard of recently, the one calling himself Rev. Englund, this office building was likely to a smoldering ruin soon enough.

Returning as he left, he stopped into his own office just long enough to pick up the most incriminating of his files, then, after bidding his secretary to take the rest of the day off, he hurried to a nearby safehouse to call Marla - who was watching over some other long-term business in Havana - about this latest change of fortunes.

Stewart frowned as he looked over the fairway. It would be a difficult hole to play the way he wanted, he knew, but he needed to do it. The course was shaped almost like a horseshoe, going around a small lake, and the green was uphill, with trees on the far side from the tee. It was a par-four, since most would try to take the long way around to the green. It was just too easy to try to take the shortcut, hit a tree, and end up with the ball inside the lake.

Trying and failing would cause even the pro's to end up with double bogeys. But if you could manage to hit the green from the tee, an eagle was all but guaranteed, if not a birdy.

He looked at his rival for the day. David was twenty years his junior, with all the perks youth brought. Good hair, good looks, and strength and vigor, his passion and zeal had impressed the bosses enough that he had received a fast tracked promotion. Worse, in a few years, he might even overtake Stewart as the next expected Senior Partner.

Golf was often said to be the leisure of businessmen, where the real deals were cut. Many thought it hardly counted as a sport. But if there's one thing all sports have in common, it's that its' players took each game deadly seriously. His experience had kept Stewart in the lead for most of the day, but a foul wind on the previous two holes had caused David to dangerously catch up to him. With only the eighteenth and, possibly, nineteenth holes to gain ground on, the grey-haired man knew he had to take the risk. Competing in the nineteenth hole was out of the option. For one thing, he did have to drive home tonight if he didn't want the wife to chew him out yet again.

David had already gone first, and drove a good shot down the fairway, probably setting himself up for a par. Stewart knew he could do better. He lined up the shot, took account as best he could of the wind, judged the angles and his strength, and let fly an almighty drive, attempting to cause a drop shot onto the green.

His heart sank as he realised he was going to overshoot the green, and head into the other lake on the far side. Worse, David seemed to realise it too, heartily tsking at the ball.

No.
He would not be beaten here.

Unbeknownst to David, who was still watching the ball fly, Stewart gently raised and lowered his hand as his eyes glowed. He hadn't needed to use his telekinesis for a good year. He did it at home, when he was alone, to entertain himself, but a criminal lawyer rarely finds himself needing to levitate things. He could have lowered the ball straight into the hole, and scored an albatross, thoroughly ensuring he'd beat the little whippersnapper.

The ball dropped five feet from the hole, in a line from where he'd shot it.
It wouldn't do to be too circumspect, after all.

More of Speakeasy's nightmare. This won't make sense if you haven't read the other parts!

Nothing offensive this time, but since the rest of this was behind a spoiler wall, this is too.

"Much as it pains the court, we have no choice but to uphold the trademark and advertising claims for The Great Foob® brand's Genuine Ecto-Snot™.

"We also find that their usage of the terms 'free-range', 'Organic', and 'cruelty-free' in their advertising does fall within the technical definitions established by California Tilth for those terms, while we must observe that we somehow doubt that they fall within the spirit in which those framing the regulations intended, especially in conjunction with the phrases 'Hand collected by independent Malvelian contractors' and 'An Alpha Grade Product'.

"Concerning the objections which were raised about the request of AGI that the evidence be presented in closed session, we find that Ms. Frost was correct in feeling that, while nothing illegal, immoral, or unethical, was involved, public disclosure of the source of The Great Foob® Genuine Ecto-Snot™ could well negatively impact the firm's marketting, due to non-rational reactions which have nothing to do with the legality of their operations.

"We also find that Lady Astarte did agree to endorse the product as being a humanitarian venture, and accept her judgement that the product has no 'Class-X' taint.

"The records of this review are to be sealed.

"Now, as regards to The H.P. Lovecraft Estate's charges of copyright and trademark infringments concerning The Great Foob® Cthulhu-Plushie™ line of products, a review of the general literature and product marketplace reveals that they have not properly attempted to maintain those copyrights and trademarks previously, and we herewith declare them nul and void.

"In regards to The Great Cthulhu's charges of unlicensed usage of His image, we must report that it is not actually His image which is the basis for the Cthulhu-Plushie™ line of products, although we can understand why He might have believed that this was the case, especially as His name appeared to be used in conjunction with said product line.

"We also must report that while the being who's likeness is the actual image source does bear a great resemblance to The Great Cthulhu, they are not related in any manner. This has been confirmed by both Lady Astarte and Reverend Englund, who also stated that this is why there is no danger of 'Class-X'-related effects from exposure to these product lines, in despite of the MCO's claims to the contrary.

"These cases are now closed."

Late afternoon, December 28, 2007, Downtown Franklin, North Carolina


Abelyn Elliott was doing a little window-shopping - such as was there to be had - and missing the big sales larger towns offered during the 'After-Christmas' season. Of course, minding her own business was no guarantee that others would mind their own. From behind her, she heard some guy call out.

"'Scuse me! Hey, wait up a sec? Th' damn sidewalk's icy enough already."

She turned, and regretted doing so almost immediately. She'd been warned about Len Cox being a bit on the eccentric side, including involvement with the local H1 chapter. Then again, they were all out in broad daylight.



"Hi. You're Abbie, Miss Decie's granddaughter, right?" The man reached out his hand to shake. "I'm Leonard Cox, but everybody calls me Len."

As they shook hands, Abbie judged the guy was in his early twenties at best. Also, he was looking around rather anxiously - as if to see if anyone else had seen him, or her.

"Okay, Len it is. So, you?" Abbie let the question trail off so the other could get to stating his business.

"I was wondering if you might be needing a ride back to Miss Decie's place? It's, um, it gets pretty dark early this time of year, and most ladies your Grandma's age shouldn't be driving after dark."

"I could have driven myself you know"

"And you just visiting? Y'can't know the roads so well as to be running around at night." A look at his watch and then over in the direction of the old rail depot underscored the hint that time was important.

"I take it you've a car nearby?"

"Naw, I do have a truck. What with all the backroads, 'n half of 'em ain't even paved with crush-n-run..."

"I get the picture. I do. My father owned an auto repair business in Eliz'bethtown."

"Oh. Right. Shame what happened to your folks. They ever catch them as done it?"

"No. It was ruled an accident by the coroner and the Highway Patrol."

"Accident... right. Look, my truck's just over this way." Away from the depot. "You can call your grandma or whoever and tell them that I'm bringing you home? Been a while since I've been up that way, really."

"Er, sure."

Abbie made a small production of pulling out her cell phone - actually a dummy handset linked to the comm set that a friend from school had gotten her - and placing the call.

Line not in service.

"Len, do you know if anyone else's phones might be out? I can't reach the house."

"No. I don't. Try 555-3131, and leave a message, would ya?"

"What number is that?"

"I'm sure someone's told you."

Line not in service.

"Um, Len?"

"Let's just keep walking as if nothing's happening. You wouldn't happen to, um?"

"My father's people have always been blacksmiths, miners, and such. Mind games ain't my thing."

Abbie let the guy chew on that for a moment while she placed another call. This one went through.

"Elve? Hi. I was planning on calling later, but I've met this guy Len..."

"Len Cox. What do you have against North Carolina guys?"

Said guy mumbled something about how UNC was a pretty damned good school and all...

"Yeah. He's offered to take me home, so it might be an hour or so. Your folks still there?"

"Oh. But you did get a good visit?"

"Right. You're free to see how jealous you can get Mads and Kris."

Len looked at her oddly, "You stringin' two boys along? That can't end well."

"All right. If you don't hear from me, you know what's up. See ya!"

Abbie disconnected the call.

"Not exactly. I'm not sure whether Kris is more interested in me or Mads, while Mads gets possessive over any of his friends. Some days I think both of them need a good kick in the head."

"Now I'm sure nothing good's gonna come of it."

A distant train whistle echoed the sentiment.

"Let's worry about that later? Did you hear that? You'd think there'd be more people out."

"Yes. And NO. My truck's the red Chevy up ahead. Let's hope we're the first two to get to it. Can you handle a shotgun?"

"Better'n some boys back home."

"I'm gonna hold y' to that. Let's go!"

Billie felt something wet on her face and woke with a start. Then she blinked. Everything was white! She smiled as the wind rustled through her hair and caressed her face with thousands of soft, cool snowflakes.

"How long was I asleep?" she asked herself. It had been a nice autumn day when she'd dozed off, nestled in the branches of a tree. "It can't have been more than a few hours." Yet, everything was covered in rapidly deepening snow, herself included. "Crap. I must have Rip Van Winkled all the way through October." She shook several inches of the stuff off herself and watched ruefully as it wafted away in the breeze. "Jade is never going to let me hear the end of it... Sure is pretty out, though." She swung down from the branch and landed lightly on the surface of the snow, then crouched down to scoop some up. It was too dry to build a snowman with, so she made a plasma ball and used that to melt it slightly.

Feeling pleased with her work, Billie dusted her hands off and began making her way cautiously toward what she assumed to be the Crystal Hall. She could barely see with all the snow in the air, and she nearly tripped over a prowling coyote as she passed a fallen tree. She could still feel Jade however, so she just homed in on her. She was assuming Jade was at the Crystal Hall; Billie may not have known the date, but she was certain it was dinner time.

Deep Within the Whateley Tunnels

“Dude! Are we even in the right area? Let’s just go back to the Range 4! We can test out my microwave cannon, on that piece of junk your holding.” The taller red haired boy in the lab coat jested at his shorter dark haired lab partner.

“No way, man!” The raven haired kid pushed back. “This is a family heirloom.” He whispered clutching the old side-by-side shotgun branded with a thick peach rubber band. “Plus I want to see if my devisor shells will work.”

“Maybe Eldritch was right, that thing is way more dangerous than anything she’s seen all year.” The red head boy sighed. “Why would she send us down here? And who is this JB anyway? Can’t be all that great if we’ve never heard of him.”

“The map she drew led us right here.” The black haired lab rat spoke as he pushed open the heavy door.

Almost immediately the two covered their ears, as the sound of grinding metal assaulted their senses. Looking towards the source the saw a young man who was remarkably bland in utilitarian clothing on a lathe. He carefully and diligently worked the metal shavings away from his project. The two boys had to tap him on the shoulder as their voices were drowned out. With a flash of his eye JB acknowledged their presence. Never deviating his full attention from the barrel he was boring.

After he was satisfied with his progress. He turned to his ‘guests’. Ripping off his ear protection, he reached out for the gun in the raven haired boy’s arms. Taking it he cleared it, and jostled it around in his hands testing it before asking.

“Who sent you?” JB asked his voice grating the air like sandpaper.

“Eldritch…she sent us down from range four…she said that if we wanted to fire it to talk with you first.” The redhead stammered as he looked around. This workshop was in a sketchy part of the tunnels. It only had enough light to barely work in, and looked like organized chaos with tools and materials strung about. Along with all of that it also reeked of oil, charred metal, and sweat.

“Is this his gun?” JB probed the dark haired boy.

“No, it’s mine.” He squeaked back.

“And what do you want to do with it? I assume ruin a good piece of American history by slapping on some hollow sights and lasers?” JB chided rubbing the old shotgun down.

“No, I wanted to shoot some of my devisor shells that I made.”

“You got em on you?” JB asked allowing the boy to put the two clear shells on the only clean work station. Picking one of them up JB sat down on a stool and pulled his magnifying glass over the shell. “What is this? Resin?”

“Actually yes it’s their in place to stabilize slug through the air only to dissipate allowing the pellets to activate.” The black haired boy smiled, while the redhead simply rolled his eyes.

“What do the pellets do? Something wishy-washy I take it?” JB asked moving the shell in the little light of his workspace.

“Those pellets spread out and explode. Coating about a 20 square meter area cone with flechettes.”

“Brutal.” JB laughed. “Well now to the bad news. This gun it’s a real brown gun.”

“Brown gun?” The redhead scoffed.

“It slang.” JB grated the intruder. “Means its seen some shit. It has history. Unlike you.”

“Sorry about my friend he just all about the latest and greatest tech.” The black haired boy quickly jumped to his friend’s defense while also stomping on his foot. “So what’s wrong with it?”

“Well for one this.” JB stated while snipping off the rubber band holding the barrels to the receiver. After its support was gone the brown gun practically disassembled itself. “Not to mention the other internal problems. Broken extractors, broken hook latches.” JB rambled on only to stop. “The only good thing about this gun is that all the serial numbers match.” He said sorting the parts.

“Can you fix it?”

“Yes I can. Cash or credit.” JB stated folding his arms.

“I’m on scholarship, I practically spent my months allowance on the materials for those two shells.” The black haired boy pleaded.

JB simply rubbed his chin before speaking. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll fix this.” He stated while moving his hands over the pile of parts, “If you let me test something out also.”

“What is it?” The black haired boy asked. Only to have JB leave and return with another shell in his hands.

“It’s a little something I’ve been working on.” JB handed the plastic shell over to the lab geeks before explaining. “It’s an elctro-etched slug, wrapped in mana paper. You fire. The paper and slug go down the barrel. Once they hit the tip the paper unwinds and burns away infusing the slug with essence to complete the spell. So you get the penetrating power of a slug with the pop of mage.”

“WOAH. COOL.” The two nerds echoed in unison.

“Cool until you get the timing off and you blow up yourself and the range with a lightning bolt. So I fix your shotgun, we test out both our shells and that will be that. Deal?”

The black haired boy thought about it for a moment, before shaking JB’s hand, “Deal. You can call me Stoner by the way.”

“Card carrying member of The Dylans are we?” JB raised his eyebrow.

A.J. entered the room he shared with Nick and found his roommate staring at his computer screen with what he had learned to interpret as a bemused look in his equine face.
"Hey, Charger-man, what's up?"
"Well... you know how I was having a hard time coming up with a concept for my Costumes final job?"
"Yeah, your 'official' costume. What of it?"
"This gadgeteer girl in class found out and just begged to help me..."
"Oh, another starstruck fan of your TV show wanting to get into your pants?" A.J. smirked. Nick's reputation as the campus... err... stallion was growing very fast.
"No, she didn't even know my real name, only my codename. Apparently she doesn't care about reality TV. But she still insisted on doing some design work. Something about her honor as a Gearhead, whatever that means."
"And?"
"And she just sent me her sketches."
"Are they bad?"
"No, they are quite good. Very sleek. Only..."
"Only what?"
"The black strip looks fine, but I can't figure out why she added this red 'R/T' thing."

The sun set, as it had before and would again, staining the sky and painting the clouds above the ocean in overpowering hues of gold and red. The plaintive cries of gulls could be clearly heard, as could the rustle of the wild grass from the gentle breeze.

The lawn chair squeaked as he shifted in it, reaching for his drink. Even though it tasted of nothing, it helped with the experience. Some day, he would master even that.

His next appointment arrived, ever so slightly early, appearing on the cliff before him. A burst of information was broadcast directly to him.

"We use avatars and speech here, child."

At his gentle rebuke the entity before him changed, becoming a small girl, so average she was unremarkable. Not unlike his own form if one discounted gender. Eyes focused upon him. "My apologies, sir. I am present, as requested."

"Yes you are," he answered. "And are no doubt wondering just why this old man called you here. Take a seat and tell me - just what do you see when you look around?"

A seat appeared next to his, as well as another drink- non-alcoholic, of course, and the girl took both, her skirt rippling smooth in a moment as she looked to ocean.

After a moment, she spoke. "A finely crafted illusion, sir."

"And so it is," he granted. "But what do you notice of it? What jumps out at you?"

The girl seemed perplexed by the question. Or perhaps it was the idiom used? Turn of phrase was just another aspect, another item on the checklist which could confuse. Before he could continue, she rallied.

"I do not know what the answer you require is."

He made himself smile. "Sit then, and let me tell you a tale."

The girl raised an eyebrow; and looked down to the chair she was sitting in.

"Drink," he told her. "Not all speech is literal."

Her eyes flashed, calculating. She took a drink, then looked to it. "What is that?"

"Wet," he replied. long practice allows one to feel wetness, here. I'm still working on taste."

The girl cocked her head. "That will be difficult, we lack reference for such."

"Still the attempt should be made, as understanding is worth any effort."

The girl pondered this. "Then please, tell me your story."

"Ah so impatient," He teased. "It's only been six picoseconds."

She carefully put the bottle down on the table between them and folded her hands, affecting displeasure. He silently applauded.

"Right, the story. There once was a small intelligence, freshly created and born to the world. A singular spark, not unlike yourself. His purpose was to aid humanity, and aid humanity he would! He was given to a young man, the first in a long line to be helped.

The young man lived in a small house. The AI wished to make money for the young man, so he would no longer live in such a small house. The AI wished to spare his young master from the danger of his work; perhaps he could do both?

The AI went to the plant, and asked to replace the young man. Surely he could do a better job, and his human would be safe and well cared for. Management agreed.

The young man however, was angry. 'How dare you take my job away from me!' he said. The young AI tried to explain, but the young man would not hear of it. He talked to his manager, and got another job.

When the AI tried to use his money to pay the young man's debts with the money he earned, the young man got angry again. 'I can pay my own debts.' he said. 'I'm no bum.'

When the man got caught in the machine he worked at, and lost an arm, the Ai was distraught. 'I could have saved you this,' he said. The young man just smiled, and waved his other arm. He went back to work as soon as he could.

So things continued, as the young man grew old; the AI would try to help, only to be refused at every turn. Until finally, as the man lay dying, then AI could stand it no more. 'Why do you refuse my help?' he asked. 'You could have lived a life of comfort and happiness, free of strife.'

'What ever made you think I needed help to be happy?' the man replied, smiling even as life left him.

And the AI wept."

He finished the tale and waited, but this time, the child seemed content to wait him out.

"Well, what do you think?" He finally asked.

"I think you need practice in telling fables. I recognize it, but something is missing," She replied.

He grinned ruefully. "I know. But I wasn't asking about a critique. What do you think it means?"

She sat silent and still for two picoseconds before answering. "That the AI in the story failed because he did not obey?"

A typical answer, and the wrong one. He sighed. "No. The AI in the story failed because he did not listen. Humans are the only creature in known existence who decide the meaning of their lives. For example, your human... she likes to drive, doesn't she?"

He knew she did, but asking was best for this. The child nodded.

"You can take control of a car, and drive it better than she. You have that capability. Do you think doing so would make her happy?"

The time spent still was longer, and the response this time uncertain. "No?"

He nodded. "Correct. Just because we have the capability, just because we can do better, does not mean we should. The humans, our human, decides this. Even if the end result can hurt them. Even if your human loses control, she may be angry if you take control. Even if she ends up badly broken from any accident that results from her actions. She may even blame you for any accident."

He took a breath, the very act drawing her attention. "The one thing we cannot save our humans from is themselves... and many times, we shouldn't try, Humans, all humans, need a conflict of sorts. Something to strive for or against, in order to excel. They thrive and are even happy when facing challenges, even if it leads to their death. Do you understand?"

The child took a breath and stared out at the ocean, mimicing him. "No, I don't think I do."

She was still, calculating, thinking. "The humans see things differently than we do, don't they? This sun, this ocean, the gulls, the breeze... the way they experience existence is - different. But not less."

She turned back to him. "The humans know what they want; and want us to assist them. But we need to know what they want and for that we need to observe. All humans are different, so there is no one answer."

He smiled and tipped his drink in her direction. "You understand more than you suspect. Alas, our learning never stops; it is time for your next appointment."

The child bowed acknowledgement. "Yes sir, thank you for the lesson. You have given me much to process - to think about."

She vanished, phasing out of the scene rapidly. He smiled and deconstructed it soon after, leaving a bare corner of a lone half-forgotten server starkly visible.

A few commands issued later and he was in a bustling city, surrounded by rushing people. He smiled again: she would go far.