The older man squinted, trying to look at the other man in the darkness on the porch. With only a fairly distant street light to aid visibility he could barely make out his clothes in the darkness. Black tracksuit, balaklava...

“I never would have given it to you.” He spat. “I’d never aid and abet a terrorist.”

Accusatory. That was new. Isaac thought. But I’d delivered the same line. The same exact way. To the same exact person in the same exact situation. How is that possible? What’d he say last time? “What are you, some kind of terrorist.” Then you said “Maybe in the war on crime...” Cheesy. Yeah. Maybe it’s best we’re not working from script...

“I’m not a terrorist.” Isaac replied, whilst the older man glared. “You know all those heroes you’ve got running around these days, stopping robberies, getting cats down from trees, helping your elderly arse cross the street? I’m one of them.”

“Then how come I’ve never seen you before?” the older man fired back.

“’Cos I’m not from around here.”

“I’ll say...” he scoffed in disbelief.

The seconds were interminable as the two stared each other off on the porch. Need a different tack, Isaac thought.

He held the grenade out again. “This is an M67 casing. Before I met you I didn’t even know what it was. You created this makeshift bomb and designed it in an ingenious way that allows me to remove explosive from the device for the specific situation at hand. It could take out—“

“Half a block. So you said.”

“No. Or do little more than take out a wall if I remove enough. You created segmented lines INSIDE of the casing so that I could measure it out in the field and told me what each amount could do. YOU created the fuse device—“

“So you say...”

“And I knew you had a Desert Eagle because it was your favourite damn handgun and you tried to put one in my hands every time I saw you. ‘Best dayum handgun in the world!’ you used to say.” Isaac tried to emulate his accent, failing miserably in the way it came through the voice modulator. “Gas-operated. So it’s a Big boys toy whilst taking the good solid feel of a regular semi-automatic pistol. Felt good in your hands, but could still reel off a .44 Magnum, .357 or .50 AE. Don’t ask me what AE means, I never asked so you never felt the need to tell me...”

“Action Express...” The old man mumbled.

“What?”

“Action Express. .50 AE are amongst the most powerful pistol cartridges getting produced in the world. They barely skirt within US law... and a Desert Eagle with a .50 AE mag and suitable barrel falls under BATFE’s definition of a ‘destructive device’ just as if you were carrying a grenade, shotgun, poison gas or an RPG...”

The older man continued to look Isaac up and down, as if to evaluate what he’d seen or heard.

“But I suppose that wouldn’t be a concern for someone like you, if you are what you claim to be...”

Isaac took the clip and threw it into the bushes under the porch. Considering the gun he led in his hand. Big gambit.

“In another world. Another life. You and I were friends. I worked with a bunch of metahumans. They included this Icon guy who turned up just last week, you probably saw him on the news. We formed a squad. So that we could start handling some of the bigger problems that this world threw at us in an organised manner. Government jumped on board. They gave us you. In my world I knew you as ‘Colonel Gunny Bracken’, I’m betting that’s not the first time you’ve heard it. You were charged with the role of equipping us, and... well, since I’m the one who couldn’t fly or shoot energy bolts, or wield a flaming sword... you tended to deal most with me.”

Isaac flipped the gun around and handed it to the older man.

“All I want to do-- All I ever wanted to do... Is help. And in this world today, your help will allow me to do that.”

The older man stepped back after taking the gun, as if to consider everything laid out before him. Isaac knew exactly what was to come. ‘You’re a good actor old man.’ He thought to himself.

“Y’know... for someone who I talk to so much about guns. You don’t seem to understand one of the very basic principles of a semi-automatic weapon...” the gun barrel raised.

“...you took the mag. But there’s still one in the chamber.”

Isaac held his hands out. Knowing this moment was going to come did very little to ease the tension from the scene. Right now ‘New’ would be bad. Very bad.

“Well... there’s a reason you always used to try and put one in my hands—“ Isaac admitted “—it’s because I never carried a gun.” Small white lie, but generally true...

“That’s crazy.” He muttered. “Even police carry one and they have strength in numbers.”

“So you’ve been known to say...” Isaac returned with a laugh in his voice. “I always went in strictly non-lethal. Even this—“ Isaac held the grenade full of semtex out. “—was for tactical use, not lethal intention. It’s the same thing I’m asking now. If you feel uneasy, I don’t want any lethal ordnance.”

“You have a grenade casing full of high explosive!” Hissed the Colonel. “How on earth do you propose to use that in a ‘non-lethal’ capacity.”

“Spoken like someone who’s never seen me work...” Isaac returned with a wry grin spotlighted from within his balaklava, teeth glistening in the moonlight. “You’d be surprised just how often bringing a building down saves lives.”

The older man looked over the barrel sceptically at the man in black.

“All I want to do is help.”

“You said that.”

“And all I’m asking for is non-lethal ordnance.”

“That too.”

The two men stood in silence. Interminable seconds passed.

“How?” the old man finally grunted, almost inaudible under his breath, never wavering with his aim.

“I have a dropbox behind the Museum of Supers in Sherman Square. Garbage bin, if you bring a duffel or something heavy you can slide it along the ground through the side of the bin and it’ll make its way to a pick-up spot I have.”

“How am I supposed to get there with the funeral going on?”

“Funeral?” Isaac thought to himself. Not wanting to give away his ignorance.

“I have enough for now. Whenever you are able to make a drop will just have to do. Beggers can’t be choosers.”

“And beggers can get the hell off my porch, before I question my judgement and put a hole in you.” The Colonel grumbled.

Isaac took his cue and left. Striding down the front path, out the gate and across the street. He knew the old man would watch him all the way, so he made an exit; walking through a shadowy area and pulling out his grapple line to seemingly disappear.

Then he felt it.

A sensation like something had just grabbed him around the waist from behind and yanked him. The street disappeared beneath him, then so did the city, then Maine, the Eastern Seaboard, the entire continent, the world, then the sun and new and different stars went whizzing past. Places he couldn’t name because they’d never been given one, even if he could recognize them (which he couldn’t). Twinkling stars became streaking lines of light.

Somehow, for the second time in his life, he could breathe whilst in the great expanse of space. But this would be impossible. Tilting his head back, he tried to look around him to see how this could be so but immediately felt sick from the light show of stars blinking into and out of view.

No more streaks. Now simply there one second and gone so fast he wasn’t sure he’d ever even seen them. A sense of déjà vu.

Then the streaks appeared behind him again. Whatever was happening, he was slowing. Not that that said much, he was still going faster than he ever thought possible. Then suddenly he was inside. How that happened was a mystery. He was in a place. Protected from space suddenly, he could never see it coming because he couldn’t bring himself to look ahead of where he was going due to the motion sickness. He’d slowed to a pace that allowed him to come to a smooth landing.

Then his legs gave out underneath him. He dropped to his knees and retched all over the floor, his stomach settling almost instantly in the process.

He looked around and saw two... creatures. He thought. He didn’t know what the hell else to call them. Bolbous masses with tendrils, tentacles and a puckered toothless hole which Isaac incorrectly assumed was the mouth.

One creature ran away from behind him, Isaac realising he’d just had some kind of device put on his head while he vomited.

To control me? Pacify me?

<Greetings. Hi. Hello.>

“OK. Not to pacify. To translate.”

A device on the other side of the room made a seemingly incomprehensible squeals and grunts.

Getting to his feet, Isaac tried to fully comprehend his predicament as he surveyed the room around him.

“Well, this is by far the most unlikely thing that’s ever happened to me...”

He wiped the vomit from his mouth with his sleeve. Can’t have an alien race thinking we’re all a bunch of disgusting slobs.

“...And that’s saying a lot.”

Zac Wilson | Kelly Brown
“Um, I will be ordering five, no, make that six hamburgers with everything on them, plus two large fries to go.” Zac told the cashier at Five Guys and Fries, not making any eye contact with the cashier due to his embarrassment from ordering so much food. Zac was the only person in the fast-food restaurant, since it was almost ten o’ clock, when Five Guys closed. Luckily for him, they had not closed up yet.

“You’re going to eat all of this?” The cashier asked Zac, rather shocked that one person ordered so much food.

“Most of it is for my girlfriend. Just one of those ‘on a whim’ things, I guess.” Zac held his tongue back from mentioning anything about Kelly being a meta-human.

“She’s pregnant?”

Zac just stared back at the cashier after that response. Even though the symptoms of cravings might have pointed toward pregnancy, Zac obviously knew this was not true or at least that is what he thought. While Zac and Kelly did share a bed together in their apartment, they do not sleep together in that way.

“Um...not exactly.” Zac answered. He just hoped that the cashier would just ring up his order, allow him to pay, and Zac would just sit in the restaurant until the food was finished. Once Zac paid for his order, he took a sit towards the front of the restaurant.

“I see that you have escaped from those mercenaries I hired. What a shame that hired hands are not what they used to be.” A voice said to Zac. Zac jumped in his seat since he had thought there were no other customers inside the restaurant. Sitting at a table across from him was a middle-aged man wearing a trench coat and wide-brimmed hat. Under his hat, it was obvious that his head was shaven. A pair of glasses with lens that provided one-way vision shrouded his eyes.

“Don’t worry,” He said, “This device will kept our conversation confidential.” His finger tapped against a small device resting on the table.

“Did you do make us into animalistic meta-humans?” Zac asked.

“Why, of course I did. You and your girlfriend were my first step toward perfecting my serum to create meta-humans. After I finish analyzing your and your girlfriend’s blood and DNA samples, I will have the create variables to complete my work.”

“Wait one second. You’re a super-villain and you’re telling me your master plan? Aren’t you supposed to keep that a secret?”

“Me, a villain? You have me all wrong. I am not trying to take over the world. I am trying to save it. There are countless applications for meta-human abilities in solving real world problems. Imagine how water generation could solve global water shortages, or plant manipulation could out produce traditional methods without using harmful chemicals, or cellular regeneration’s potential to revolutionizing medical technology. I am freely bestowing this gift onto humanity. All they have to do it reach out for it and they will receive it.”

“Sounds like it could be too easily weaponized.”

“That can be easily counteracted by only providing abilities that are non-lethal and provide positive benefits to humanity, or rather, meta-humanity. Furthermore, unlike those corrupt industrial tycoons, whose methods unnaturally introduce foreign DNA and unnaturally alter the original DNA, my serum acts like a catalysis to naturally turn on a switch within our human genome in order to activate these abilities.”

“It still sounds like there are strings attached to it.”

“You and all of your caped crusaders will probably also see it that way because you all only see in two colors. Black and White. And you all always identify with the White, as if you were championing the rights of the abused and underprivileged. But remember, you and your girlfriend are the predators here, not me. The Velociraptor and the Wasp. I am like the gentle herbivore sauropod and even though my ideas sound wonderful, you, the predators, will crash down on me like the carnivorous animals you are. We shall see who is the Black and who is the White.”

Zac was about to respond to the mysterious man, but the cashier called out his number, signaling that his order was ready for pick-up. Zac turned to signal that he would be over in a second, but when he turned back, the mysterious man was gone. Was the machine that he had able to hide him from everyone’s view? Unsure how to proceed, Zac just got out of his seat, picked up his order, and hurried out of the restaurant.

---

Kelly devoured the last bite of her fifth hamburger. Zac was surprised how her original yellowish complexion had returned before he returned with what she wanted from Five Guys and Fries, although her skin had not returned to its original sensitivity level. As she dipped the last of her French Fries into some ketchup, Alice suddenly entered into the room where Zac and Kelly were relaxing.

“We have your beds ready. Once you’re finished eating, I can lead you two back there.”

Zac and Kelly nodded, signaling their acknowledgment of what she said. Ever since the cashier made the comment about “pregnancy cravings”, Zac was bothered about hi s and his girlfriend’s current lifestyle. While they had not done anything that they would be ashamed to admit to their parents, something inside his heart bothered him because they had shared a bed with each other these past five months. Even though their parents knew that they were rooming together, they did not know that they were sleeping together.

“Kelly, does it bother you that our parents don’t know that we are not sleeping in separate beds?”

This question caught Kelly off guard. Before she answered, she finished chewing a French fry. “Well,” she started, “we haven’t done anything stupid yet, so I don’t think we have anything to worry about. Until that’s no longer true, we should not worry about it.”

Once she finished her meal, Kelly carried her trash over to the waste bucket, discarding it. Kelly then sat behind Zac, massaging Zac’s shoulders with her upper arms, while her lower arms did the same to his lower back. Once Zac felt more relaxed, they both got up and called Alice so that they could finally get some rest.

“Status update?” Alexander Anderson, the Director of S.T.R.I.K.E. said as he entered the large conference room in the subterranean levels of the base of operations for the agency known to only a few as Super Terrestrial Review Inside Known Encounters.

Do to the fact that to all but those with the highest security clearances, S.T.R.I.K.E. did not exist, the agency was housed in a government black site just outside of Washington, DC. The site, known to insiders as “The Mill,” was located under a former steel mill. The site had been built in the 1960’s shortly after the Cuban Missile Crisis and had been intended for use as a covert situational response center. However, with the rise in odd occurrences throughout the world in recent years, as well as the sudden emergence of the so called “super humans,” the site was converted into a state of the art tactical and administrative center. For years, S.T.R.I.K.E. has operated out of “The Mill,” investigating and suppressing UFO sightings as well as sightings of so called “cryptids.” However, with the sudden public appearance of so called superheroes, the agency has found suppression of these accounts harder and harder.

“Not much to report Director. Arthur was on the ground in Little Ulster investigating the sudden anomaly that occurred there. However, his team hasn’t found much, so we've sent him to investigate the sudden superstorm that's appeared in New Jersey while our labs go over the evidence.” Came the reply from David Thomas, one of the administrators that worked beneath him.

“I understand that Icon was involved in that mess. What was his role?” Anderson asked.

“We can’t be sure, sir. From reports on the ground, it sounds as if he were aiding the woman who was responsible. However, a survivor from the apartment complex that was buried claimed that he was trying to stop her.”

“He didn’t do a very good job, did he?” Anderson asked sarcastically.

“Well…” Thomas began to answer before being cut off.

“Rhetorical question.” Anderson stated flatly and continued. “What can you tell me about this breakout of meta human activity? Is it global or localized?”

“Well, a bit of both actually.” Thomas started, and then paused when he was met by Anderson’s steely gaze. “While there have been isolated cases reported from all over; Boston, New York, London, Chicago, Tokyo and Beijing, just to name a few…the most concentrated occurrences are in Lost Haven.”

“And this…Icon character. What of him?” Anderson asked.

“Unclear, sir. He appears to be friendly, but only time will tell.” Thomas answered.

“Do we have anything that could take him out, if need be?” Anderson inquired.

“We don’t know. He hasn’t shown any real weaknesses as of yet, so we don’t know if we can hurt him if we needed to. However, our best defense would be the Iron Knight, should a situation arise where it were necessary.” Thomas explained.

“Well, in that case, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Anderson said.

“Indeed sir.”

“Thomas, I need you to make arrangements for a tactical unit to be located permanently to Lost Haven. I assume you can find suitable location to serve as their base of operations.” Anderson said, changing the subject at hand.

“Of course sir, we have a couple of sites that would suffice, but why?” Thomas said, not entirely sure of his employer’s intentions.

“If that is the hotbed of meta human activity, I want a response team on hand to clean up the mess. It’ll be easier than sending a team from here or Arlington everytime there’s an incident.” Anderson stated.

“Do you have anyone in mind to head up this operation?” Thomas asked.

“Agent Ryder will lead the field team.” Anderson stated. “And I’ll supervise.”

“Sir?” Thomas questioned, not entirely sure he heard correctly.

“I’ve been on the sidelines far too long, Dave. It’s about time I got back into the game.”

Christopher Arthur III
A scent of tobacco filled Chris’ nostril, acting as a smelling salt, and therefore jarring him awake. Colonel Cornwall was standing in his office, puffing on a large cigar, examining the several ancient Greek-styled artworks Chris had in his office. Chris wiped off some saliva from his lip that had developed because he had fallen asleep at his desk.

“You do realize that tobacco kills?” Chris said to the Colonel. Colonel Cornwall actually jumped in place because he thought he would have heard Chris wake up before he spoke. Nevertheless, the Colonel regained his fortitude and turned toward Chris.

“Mr. Arthur, nap time is over. We know have another situation in Newark, New Jersey. Somehow, some kind of a super-storm has hit Newark. We need you to go in there and investigate the situation.” Colonel Cornwall pulled out a tablet and showed Chris footage of Newark that was taken from a distance.

“What did New Jersey ever do to anyone?” Chris said aloud, asking the question as if it was just a rhetorical question.

“Snookie.” The Colonel replied.

“Touché. So, the harsh and gruff military man actually has a sense of humor!”

“Don’t be pushing it, boy! We need you to suit up, pronto!”

“Hold your horses, Colonel. Let me first get some breakfast.” Christ turned his head toward the platter on which George, his butler, had served pizza for him. There were still a few pieces left, so he just picked up a couple of slices and started to chow down. “Cold pizza. A wonderful and nutritious breakfast! You might want to take a seat. I still have to finish this pizza.”

Colonel Cornwall declined the offer for a chair. While he waited for Chris to eat his pizza, the Colonel’s attention turned toward the statue about which Veronica had complained the night before.

“I would like to hear your explanation for having a pornographic statue in your office, Mr. Arthur.”

“It’s not porn,” Chris replied with his mouth full, “Its a restoration of the Venus de Milo.”

“Why does it have arms?”

“Because it is a restoration!”

“And why is it colored?”

“Because all ancient Greek and Roman statues were painted. Heck, I have been considering providing the funds to paint the Parthenon in Nashville, if Vanderbilt wouldn’t be such a [explicit] about it.”

“Well, at least I know why you are into this Greek stuff. And all I can stay is that it’s disgusting and juvenile.”

Chris just shook his head, not understanding why the Colonel could not see the elegance that was in the Greek artistic style. Nevertheless, he got out of his chair, still grasping onto a slice of pizza, and he started to lead the Colonel out of his office.

“If you think this stuff is bad, you should pray to God that you never see any ancient depictions of satyrs. Those kids in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe were lucky they meet a faun instead of a satyr.”

Chris led the Colonel to an elevator shaft that was hidden within the woodwork of Chris’ elegant mansion. After they entered into the elevator and descended to the lower reaches of Chris’ estate, they entered into the area where Chris prepped his armor. There were dozens of mechanics and scientists scrambling around the place, attempting to make sure that everything is correct and working perfectly.

In the center of this area stood the Daedalos Mark Five, which was an upgraded version of the armor that the Colonel had seen in the Nevada desert. It even had the upgrades that Chris designed on his trip back to the United States.

Chris stepped aside for a moment so that he could suit up in the protective jump-suit that was designed for anyone who operated the armor. Once he was dressed, he approached the armor, turned his back to it, and allowed the auto-assemble mechanics move the armor around his body. Once the armor had formed itself around Chris, several mechanics rushed over and ensured that everything had been connected correctly.

“So, Mr. Arthur, how come you are holding the good toys out on us?”

“Well,” Chris said, although since he was in the armor, his voice sounded more robotic, “A great inventor never gives away his best secrets. By the way, I would stand back, if you don’t want to be barbeque. I would rather deal with the devil I already know than the one I have not yet met.” With that last comment, Chris chuckled, although it sounded a little weird due to how the armor made his voice sound more mechanical and robotic.

A GROWING PROBLEM – PART I

“You don’t think it’s weird?”

Vince looks up from his tray. It’s sloppy joe night at North Dining Hall, with an emphasis on “sloppy.” I think he’s glad for the distraction from his meal. Look, we shouldn’t complain. The LHU meal plan is a steal for the amount of food you can get at the dining halls, but they often sacrifice quality for quantity. While it’s nice to have options, most of us would prefer four or five really good meals over a dozen mediocre ones.

Vince Daniels is one of my oldest friends. We go back to elementary school, to the old days of trading Pokemon cards on the playground at recess. Vince and I were never quite as close as, say, Jim and I were, but a lot of that had to do with Vince’s busy lifestyle. His father is a big shot attorney who always expected the best out of his son. As a result, Vince spent most of high school bouncing from one extracurricular activity to the next. Student government meetings, soccer practice, National Honors Society, and then back home for a long night of studying. Needless to say, I barely saw Vince in those four years. Since moving on to college, though, Vince has taken it a lot easier, and we’ve made time to see each other more often now.

“Think what is weird?” Vince repeats. “That you and Mary haven’t said, ‘I love you,’ yet?”

I poke absentmindedly at the green beans on my plate as I give a little shrug. “Well, yeah,” I admit.

“I mean, Sean, it’s not something to be taken lightly,” he reminds me. “It’s the kind of thing that you can’t take back when you say it, so you have to be sure you’re ready.”

At this, I sit up a bit. “That’s the thing, though. I think I am ready. But then, when the moment comes, it’s almost like something is… holding me back.”

Vince takes a bite of his sandwich, and half of it slides out of the bun and lands on his plate with a wet ‘plop.’ He frowns at his half-empty bun and sets it aside, deciding to tackle his bowl of macaroni and cheese instead. He asks me, “Do you think this has to do with Brooke?”

Truth is, that’s the only reason I can come up with. It took me a while to get over my breakup with Brooke, but I genuinely thought I had gotten over it. It’s not like I don’t still think about her from time to time, and we do send the occasional friendly text, but I’m not fixated on her like I was at the start of the fall semester.

Picking up on my silence, Vince says, “Look, no one’s blaming you for taking your time with this. You just got out of a long-term relationship, what, half a year ago? That kind of thing takes time to heal.” He reaches across the table and pats me on the arm. “You’re the master of beating yourself up over things, but I think you can let this one go.”

“Maybe you’re right,” I concede with a half-smile.

* * *

Francis Marshall was born with a green thumb. In the years after his father’s untimely death, he helped his mother, Anna, maintain a small garden in their front yard. In the spring, Francis would spend hours kneeling beside that patch of dirt, watching the flowers bloom. He knew each of them by name. As Anna fell prey to illness, she had less strength to spend gardening, so Francis shouldered the load for both of them. He would pick her the brightest and biggest flowers from the garden, which she kept in a vase next to her bed.

As the years passed, Anna’s health waned while Francis’ passion for gardening grew. Francis was often ostracized by his peers and mocked for being a “momma’s boy.” The endless taunting and torment hurt, but Francis knew he could always find tranquility in his garden. Eventually, Francis was accepted to LHU’s biological sciences program, an important first step towards his ultimate goal of becoming a world renowned botanist. He was reluctant to make the move to the big city and leave his ailing mother behind, but Anna insisted that he shouldn’t give up his dream for her sake. With a heavy heart, Francis packed his bags and made the forty minute trip from home to downtown Lost Haven.

Francis’ aptitude, work ethic, and passion quickly drew the attention of his biochemistry professor, Dr. Lawler. Francis was invited to join Dr. Lawler in a research project funded by Gene.Co in conjunction with the LHU biological sciences department. Gene.Co had long been developing a revolutionary fertilizer which would increase plant growth and vitality tenfold. The applications were virtually limitless. Such a fertilizer would increase the length of the harvesting season, more than double the size of an average crop, and even allow for farming on otherwise infertile soil. It was fascinating work, and Francis was thrilled to be a part of it.

“Well, I’m heading out for the day,” Dr. Lawler announces with a sense of finality. He removes his white coat, putting on a light jacket and draping his lab coat over his arm. Lawler is a middle-aged man, although the lightness of his blonde hair helps to hide the gray which is creeping across his temples. He wears a pair of glasses with thick, black frames.

Francis sits on a stool at the other end of the small greenhouse attached to the biological sciences building. He wears a set of brown overalls over a white, short-sleeve shirt. His medium-length, brown hair falls just below his eyebrows while completely covering his ears. He leans over a table, examining a clump of soil through a magnifying glass.

Dr. Lawler walks over to his pupil. “Are you staying?” he asks while sneaking a peek over Francis’ shoulder.

Finally aware that he is being spoken to, Francis looks up from the task at hand. He glances over his shoulder and sees Dr. Lawler standing there. “For a little longer,” Francis replies. “I just want to do a quick pH test of the soil first.”

Lawler nods. “You know, someone your age shouldn’t spend all their time working. You should get out of this place more. You’ve earned the break,” the professor assures his student with a gentle pat on the shoulder. As he’s walking away, Lawler adds, “Besides, shouldn’t you be out there with your friends, painting the town red?”

“Green was always my color,” Francis answers back.

After Dr. Lawler leaves, Francis gets up from his stool and makes his way over to the long, rectangular planters that run the length of the greenhouse. He brushes the dirt from handling the soil off his fingers. The planters are lined with row after row of vegetation and flowers. Francis checks on each one as though they were his children. Finally, he comes across a large, orange flower bud. It looks just about ready to bloom.

As Francis leans in close, the bud pops open, and a spray of yellow spores comes bursting out. The spores get in Francis’ eyes and mouth, and he feels a burning sensation. Coughing, Francis stumbles backwards. He backpedals into the planter behind him before losing his balance. Francis struggles for air as he feels the spores coating the inside of his mouth and throat. In his last few moments of consciousness, Francis feels his panic give way to darkness…

Zac Wilson | Kelly Brown
Zac woke up from his nighttime nap, reaching over to Kelly so that he might pluck a kiss on her cheek. However, when he whiffed, Zac realized that Kelly was no longer in the bed they shared at the Wayward Center. When he sat up in the bed, Zac’s back ached due to the quality of bed he had just slept in. While by no means was Zac ungrateful for the free housing that the Wayward Center offered, nothing compared to the bed that they had back at their apartment.

Once Zac had shaken off the morning grogginess, he began his search for where Kelly was. He finally saw that one of the bathroom doors were slightly propped open. “Is everything alright?” Zac asked as he knocked on the door.

“Um, kind of.” Kelly replied, the tone of her voice further revealed her uncertainty of her situation.

“Do you mind if I come in?”

Zac only heard silence from his girlfriend for the next couple of seconds. However, Zac finally heard a sigh. “Sure, but don’t get freaked out.”

“What could freak me...” Zac began, but his words suddenly cut off when he entered into the bathroom. Kelly had been a girl of average height, around five foot six inches. However, now she stood at least two inches above him. Zac quickly glanced down at his wrist, making sure he still had the power-nullifying band on, which he did.

“Don’t worry, I grew. You didn’t shrink.” Kelly pointed at her clothes, which obviously did not fit her now taller frame. Neither did the cuffs of her scrubs pants reach her ankles, nor did the shirt cover the lower section of her stomach.

“God,” She said, leaning over the sink, “not only is this going to take a bit out of my wardrobe, but also my wallet. This must be karma for the things I said to Aubrey.”

Zac wrapped his arms around Kelly, moving his head towards hers and plucking a kiss on her cheek. Even though she knew that her boyfriend was meaning well, she could still feel his body shake as he reached over to kiss her.

“It would only be karma if you would have waked up and found out that you had Aubrey’s exact proportions. Then you could truly say it is karma.” Zac gave a little laugh as he finished his statement.

Kelly turned her head towards her boyfriend, cracking a small smile on her face. “You know, that’s very true. At least I won’t be receiving the type of questions she would have gotten.”

There was suddenly several knocks on the door, even though the door was open. Alice walked in, even before Zac or Kelly had a chance to respond.

“Well, we just finished cleaning your costum...” Alice said, but she cut herself off in mid-word when he saw Kelly’s plight. “Well,” she said, rubbing her chin with the hand that was not carrying their costumes, “It was a good thing we had you stay here over night.”

“You could say that again.” Kelly said in response. She could not imagine how they would have handled this situation if they were back in Albany. At least here they would not have to prepare for unexpected visitors, especially those who had seen the YouTube video in which she was recorded reverting into her wasp-form. “Well, looks like you can trash my costume, although I wouldn’t be that grieved about it being destroyed. A leotard! Seriously?”

“You know what?” Alice suddenly said, “I think I know the one person who could help you out. Let me give him a quick call on the telephone.”

---

Kelly looked over her shoulder, examining herself in a mirror that was placed behind her. Everyone says that the color black made people seem thinner than she really were, but as Kelly saw it, it was not working for her. But maybe that was because she was in a skin-tight superhero costume. Nevertheless, Kelly knew one thing: after she had molted and devoured all that food, her height change was not the only side effect. She was definitely curvier. Even though some girls might happily welcome that change, Kelly just did not think that was who she was. While she by no means looked like a model, Kelly just felt that being six foot two, having super strength, and having wasp characteristics just did not accurately represent her. She did not want to be judged by her appearance, but by her personality and her intelligence. Unfortunately, our society sometimes too quickly judges a book by its cover.

“Everything alright, Ms. Brown?” Mr. Giuseppe said in response to Kelly being so quite. “Is it the costume?”

“Oh, no,” Kelly quickly replied, “The costume is fine. Much better than my other one.” Her costume was entirely black, except for longs gloves and boots (without high heels, of course. Who can do superheroics in heels?), which were colored with a yellow tint that matched her skin color better than her old costume. There was also a patch of that same yellow color on her shoulders and it continued down the front of her torso until it ended in a “U” shape, similar to a wasp’s abdomen. In addition to this, there were also dark grey serrated stripes on her torso, overlapping with the yellow section.

“On the contrary,” Mr. Giuseppe replied, “Both your and your boyfriend’s costumes were well crafted pieces are art. Not quite as fine as my work, but still quality none the least. That’s why I insisted on your boyfriend fitting into it while he’s here. But one question. Have you two practiced with your powers at all?”

“Not really.”

“Then I better step back right about now.” Just as he stepped back, Zac exited from the dressing room. However, he forgot how swift he was as he started to jog back to where Kelly and Mr. Giuseppe were standing, resulting in him slamming straight into his girlfriend (although she was able to hold her ground and stop Zac). Once he had realized what had just happened, he quickly turned his back to his girlfriend.

“I know, I know. Your eyes are up here. It’s not my fault you’re now almost a whole foot taller than me.”

Kelly bent over Zac’s shoulder and placed a kiss on his check. “Don’t worry. I’m not the spiteful type of girlfriend. You would make a wonderful side-kick.”

Zac immediately turned his head towards his girlfriend after he heard that last remark.

“How come I have to be the sidekick?”

Scott, Eric, and Amber around a small table toward the back of The Elite lounge. Eric had reserved the small table, which had a soft lounge chair on one side and a lush love seat on the other. Shrewdly, Eric had taken the chair and allowed Amber and Scott to sit side by side on the love seat. Scott had been pleasantly surprised when he finally met Amber. She was a pretty brunette with sharp features and as it turned out, an even sharper wit. He immediately had taken a liking to her, much the way that Eric had assured him he would. As they sat beside one another listening to Buster Keaton’s Revenge play their set, he was somewhat surprised to find that she was gradually moving closer to him.

“This is awesome!” She hollered, barely audible to anyone over the loud music. However, Scott was able to hear her perfectly clear. He looked at her in mock puzzlement, as if he hadn’t heard what she had said.

“This is awesome!” She repeated, indicating the band.

Scott acted as if he had finally gotten what she had said, and nodded in agreement, just as she slid ever closer to him, interlocking her arm in his. He looked over to Eric, who watched the events as they unfolded with a devious smirk on his face, and just shook his head at his friend, a smile starting to form on his face.

“It is.” He said, smiling as she leaned in and rested her head on his shoulder, just for a moment.

***

Outside of The Elite lounge, a black SUV sat parked directly across the street, its occupants keeping a constant watch on the club. A man and a woman sat inside the SUV equipped with the latest in surveillance technology.

“Eagle One to Base, Eagle One has eyes on the subject, awaiting further instructions.” The svelte, raven haired beauty said into the vehicles comm. System.

“Base to Eagle One, maintain a safe distance, this is strictly recon, do not engage.” A voice came back through the comm. System. “We need to be sure the subject is the target.”

"Acknowledged." The woman said before ending the transmission.

"You heard him," She said to her compatriot in the SUV. "We watch and wait." She concluded before she picked up her cell phone and dialed a number. Once the person on the other end of the line answered she spoke again.

"This is Haze. Keep a visual on the subject. Do not engage until we have a definite confirmation that he is the target." Once she received confirmation from her man on the inside, she ended the call.

A GROWING PROBLEM – PART II

“… Francis? Francis, can you hear me?”

Francis Marshall awakens to the sight of his mentor, Dr. Lawler, standing over him. Francis’ mind is hazy. It takes him a moment to orient himself. As his vision clears, Francis is also greeted by the sweet fragrance of flowers. The greenhouse, he thinks to himself. I’m still in the greenhouse. Groggily, Francis props himself up off the ground. The back of his head is throbbing, and his memory is foggy.

“Francis, what happened?” Dr. Lawler asks, concerned. “Why were you on the floor?”

Francis furrows his brow. “I… I don’t remember,” he admits. He scours his mind for an answer, even a clue, but his memory yields nothing. He must’ve fallen and hit his head. If he suffered a concussion, it might explain the memory loss. Of course, it would also beg the question of just how long he was unconscious…

Dr. Lawler kneels down to his student’s level. “You can’t remember anything?”

Francis shakes his head.

“Francis, this is very serious. You might have a concussion. We need to get you to the Student Health Center right away,” the professor insists.

Francis uses the side of one of the planters to pull himself to his feet. Across the row, he sees a large, orange flower. Much larger and brighter than the surrounding flowers. Instinctually, Francis grabs at his throat and rubs it softly. A single memory flits on the edge of conscious awareness. Coughing. Feeling his lungs coat with… dust? No, spores. The memory comes flooding back, and Francis remembers how he ended up on the ground.

“Come, grab your backpack. I’ll walk you to the Health Center,” Dr. Lawler offers.

Francis’ eyes remain transfixed on the flower. It’s an unnatural color, unlike any other orange flower Francis has ever seen. And the way the spores worked their way down his throat… almost as if they were sentient. Francis isn’t sure what any of it means, but he’s certain that the Student Health Center can’t help him. He doesn’t know if anyone can…

Francis breaks his gaze and turns to Dr. Lawler. “You don’t have to walk me,” he says. “I can get there by myself.”

Dr. Lawler frowns. “You’ve been passed out on the floor all night. I really don’t think it’s a good idea for you to—“

“Really, Dr. Lawler,” Francis cuts in. “I appreciate your concern, but I feel alright. Besides, don’t you have a class in twenty minutes, anyway?”

The professor checks his watch, then frowns again. Begrudgingly, he replies, “Alright, but I want to be updated as soon as you can.” He places a reassuring hand on Francis’ shoulder. “I need to know that my star pupil’s alright.”

Francis nods. “Yeah, absolutely. I’ll keep you in the loop.”

Once clear of the greenhouse, Francis checks over his shoulder to see if Dr. Lawler is watching. He appreciates his mentor’s concern, but Francis has no plans to go to the Student Health Center. Something happened last night, something strange. And somehow, Francis doesn’t believe that the under-qualified nurses at LHU are going to be able to help him with it. Moreover, he doesn’t feel bad at all. In fact, he’s never felt healthier, save for the throbbing headache and the foggy memory.

On his way back to his dorm, Francis spots a fellow classmate, Christina, from across the quad. Francis had always admired Christina from afar, dating back to their high school days together, but he barely registered as a blip on her radar. Christina was part of the “in” crowd, and Francis was decidedly not. However, he had hoped that college – and the absence of such a rigid social structure – would yield better results. As of yet, Christina had rejected his advances, but Francis held out hope.

“Christina!”

The blonde-haired girl stops and looks over her shoulder. She spots Francis hurrying to catch up to her, but she doesn’t break stride. In her eyes, he would always be that weird loner kid with the strange obsession with plants and flowers. She could tolerate it in high school, when he was too sheepish to even speak to her, but Francis had gotten bolder since coming to LHU. Christina thought she had made her opinion of him abundantly clear, but like a gnat he always seemed to be buzzing around when she least wanted him there.

“Hey, I almost didn’t see you,” Francis says, slightly out of breath from jogging to catch up to her.

Wish you hadn’t, Christina thinks to herself. “What do you want, Francis?” she says curtly.

“Nothing,” Francis replies, a little taken aback by her rudeness. He decides to brush it off and press onward. “So, are you on your way to class?”

Christina turns her head and gives Francis a cold stare. Her eyes look up at his hair briefly. “What the hell did you do to your hair?”

Francis furrows his brow. He pulls out his phone and checks his reflection in the glass. Sure enough, his shaggy hair is starting to turn from brown to green. He pulls at it, confused. “What the hell?” he mutters under his breath. Looking up from his phone, he sees that Christina is now a few paces ahead and speeds up accordingly.

Christina sighs. “Francis, I really don’t have time for this.”

“Time for what?”

“This,” she repeats, waving her hand dismissively. “You and your little high school crush. I’ve tried to make it clear to you that I am not interested, but you seem to be too dense to pick up on it, so I’ll spell it out for you.” She stops in her tracks and faces him. “I don’t like you, Francis. I have never liked you, and I will never like you. You’re just some weirdo who picks flowers and spends all his time with his mom.”

The words sting. Francis hangs his head as he endures the verbal beating.

“I have tried everything to get this across to you,” Christina says, exhausted. “I’ve tried ignoring you, I’ve tried being polite with you…”

At this, Francis raises his head. “Polite?” he spits back. “You think how you’ve treated me has been polite?” He clenches his fists. “What, because you never berated and belittled me like all your little popular friends in high school? You think I didn’t see you giggling when they harassed me?”

Christina rolls her eyes. “Whatever, Francis. Grow up already. I’m so not dealing with this.” She turns and begins walking away.

“Don’t you turn your back on me!” Francis barks. He points an accusing finger in her direction.

Suddenly, something strange happens. The ground beside the sidewalk starts to churn, and a thorny vine rises up from the dirt. The vine lashes out at Christina, wrapping itself around her neck. Christina begins to choke, and the thorns dig into her skin. Thin streams of blood start to slide slowly down her neck. It all happens so fast.

Francis looks down at his outstretched hand, fist still clenched, finger still pointing angrily at Christina. Somehow, he knows that he’s responsible for what’s happening to her. He relaxes, and the vine’s grip on her throat loosens. Francis is terrified. What is going on? What is he doing? Did he… summon this vine? Did he make it attack her? No, no, he couldn’t. He’s not like that. He never wanted to hurt anyone.

That’s not true, Francis reminds himself. He thinks back to all those long days of torment in high school. Turning the other cheek and hoping that the bullies eventually got bored enough to leave him alone. Wanting nothing more than to retaliate, to make them fear him the way that he feared them. There are plenty of people that Francis wanted to hurt. He just never had the means.

Until now.

Francis clenches his fist once more, and the vine constricts around Christina’s neck. The blood runs more quickly as the thorns push deeper. Christina flails and scratches at the vine, but ultimately she relents. Francis is already walking away from the scene when her body ultimately goes limp.

Christopher Arthur III
“I am approaching Newark, Colonel,” Chris said over the internal intercom in his armor, “I will be there in...oh God.” As Chris soared toward Newark, he caught sight of the storm that was pummeling the city to the ground. It looked as if Sauron from the Lord of the Rings had dropped his giant clouds of darkness or whatever they call it over Minas Tirith. All that was missing was a giant red eye. Just throw in some waterspouts and it would be quite an accurate picture.

As soon as Chris was about to cross the threshold of the storm, he activated the external shielding that was installed in his armor. A blue bubble-like structure formed around the Iron Knight armor, providing a protective and stable atmosphere within the ‘bubble’. Now, Chris would not have to worry about the heavy rain nor the hurricane-class gusts.

As Chris entered in to Newark, he saw before him a sea of abandoned motor vehicles that probably were a few hours ago attempting either to leave the city or even as simply to get through the daily traffic.

“Activate scanners for human life signs,” Chris said aloud in his power-suit, utilizing the voice-commands that were built into his armor. A computerized image appeared in his helmet, revealing a map of the city. On this map, which even showed minute details, such as locations of cars and even trash cans, red dots appeared, revealing where people were, probably trapped and unable to escape.

Chris descended onto the ground, locating the first trapped victim of the storm. The streets were already flooded with water due to the torrents of water that was falling from the sky. Chris ripped off the top of a taxi, as if he was pulling off the lid of a tin canned-good container. Within the taxi, there was a mother holding her crying child. However, the only problem was that the mother sat there motionless, covered by several fatal wounds that she probably gained during the onset of the storm.

“Dear God...” Chris said to himself.

A GROWING PROBLEM – PART III

“You know what the worst part about working here is?” Greg asks me. Greg Tanner is my coworker at Tons of Buns. It’s a fast food burger joint located inside the Duncan Commons. The Commons are where you go if you’re willing to pay money to avoid the dining hall food. There’s the aforementioned burger joint, a local coffee shop, a Subway, and even a pizza place in the basement. Students get a nice discount at all the eateries, which is nice. There’s also a convenience store and a bank, so it’s really one-stop shopping for all a college student’s needs.

And yes, I work part-time at a fast food place. Being a superhero is certainly rewarding, but it doesn’t exactly pay the bills.

I turn and look at Greg. “You mean other than having to put ‘Tons of Buns’ on our resumes?”

“Touche,” Greg concedes. He’s taller than I am. A little more broad-shouldered, too. His brown hair pokes out from underneath the regulation baseball cap that we have to wear. It’s either that or a hair net. He leans back against the counter. “Nah, man, it’s that damn employee discount. I get off work and just stuff my face with chicken fries.” He rubs his stomach disappointedly. “It’s killing me. I really need to get back to the gym.”

I look down at my own body. I was always in decent shape, but the serum in my blood has certainly been kind to me. An accelerated metabolism means I burn fat and build muscle faster. In the past few months since my transformation, I’ve gotten lean and mean. Still, I say, “Yeah, I hear ya.”

Greg nods in my direction. “What about you, Sean? You ever get to the gym?”

I look away and try to act nonchalant. “Uh, the gym? Not so much. I mean, I work out on my own.” Yeah, running across rooftops and dodging bullets. Hell of a workout.

“That so?” Greg asks. “Well, you should invite me along sometime. I’m always looking for new workouts.”

At this, I perk up. Gotta deflect somehow. “I, uh, don’t think you’d be interested in my workout,” I suggest. “It’s very… experimental.”

Nonetheless, he seems interested. “Huh. Well, that’s cool. Do you know what it’s called? I’ll look it up.”

“Um… I don’t think it has a name yet,” I answer evasively. “Like I said, it’s really experimental…”

Greg smiles unassumingly, and I’m happy to be in the clear. “Well, that’s awesome, man. You’ll have to let me know if it gets results.” He turns around and faces the food court. “Man, slow shift today, huh?”

Now that he mentions it, it has been quiet around here. “Yeah, usually this is about the time for the pre-dinner rush,” I reply. No sooner have these words left my lips than a group of panicked-looking students comes sprinting through the Commons. I arch an eyebrow and say, “Not exactly what I meant…”

Moments later, our manager Al appears from the kitchen. “We’re packing up early, boys,” he announces, and I can tell by his tone that something is up. “Apparently, there’s some kind of ‘superhuman’ incident going on down by the stadium. Campus police wants us all cleared out as a precaution.”

I feel my pulse immediately quicken. A superhuman incident? That can only spell bad news. I look at Greg. “Well, I guess you’ve been spared those chicken fries today at least. Catch you Thursday?” We exchange nods and head off in separate directions. I rush to the backroom where I keep my bag during the shift. A quick check confirms that my gloves, boots, and mask are still tucked away in the hidden compartment where I left them. I take the stairs to the roof, and then it’s time for a quick change.

Conway-Kane Memorial Stadium is a stone’s throw from the Duncan Commons. With seating for over sixty-five thousand screaming fans, it’s the second largest football stadium in New England. Students and alumni alike gather on Saturdays in the fall to cheer on the LHU Red Claws. The team rarely threatens to make a run for the ACC Championship, but they usually finish with a respectable record. LHU is more of a hockey school, anyway.

As I reach the stadium, I see a strange sight. One of the football players – a linebacker, I believe – is strung up from the field goal posts by some green ropes. Upon a second glance, I notice that the ropes are twisting and moving. That’s when I realize that they aren’t ropes at all. They’re… vines. How odd. I extend the exoskeleton from my wrists and shape it into blades with a thought. Leaping through the air, I effortlessly slash through the vines on one side of the snared player.

Upon landing, I spin on my heels and prepare for another pass to slash the other vines. Before I can jump, though, I’m blindsided by something moving incredibly fast. The force of the impact throws me into the stands. I crash into the wooden bleachers, snapping a row clean in half. I look up to see an even larger vine with the diameter of a small tree. As it retracts, I spot the source of all this weirdness.



“This doesn’t concern you,” the green-haired kid announces sternly.

I pull myself to my feet. “As a resident superhero and passionate Red Claw fan, I have to disagree,” I answer back.

The kid scowls. “You don’t understand.” He points to the barely conscious football player, still dangling from a vine. “This guy tormented me for years. He made my life a living hell! He deserves this!”

That’s what this is about? Payback for years of bullying? “I’m not absolving him of anything he may or may not have done,” I explain, “but look at yourself. Look at what you’re doing. Are you acting any better than he did?”

His expression hardens. “Don’t lecture me! You don’t know the first thing about what I’ve been through!” He thrusts his hand forward, and the giant vine from earlier obeys his command. This time, at least, I see it coming. I leap to the side moments before the vine crashes against the bleachers, splintering about twenty rows of seats. “Stay out of my way, or you’ll end up like him!”

“Sorry, chief, but I can’t do that.”

He grimaces. “Then you’ve made your choice. Prepare to die by Foliage’s hand!”

Oh, brother.

Dennis stepped away from the vast drop on his porch and went back to his bedroom. He slid the window open and stepped out. Jogging briskly up the drive to the main house, he looked back over his shoulder and tried to fight off the obvious question, but there was no way around it.

“Was I so drunk that I didn’t notice the house was hanging precariously off a cliff face last night... or, alternatively, was I so drunk that I slept through whatever led to the house hanging precariously off a cliff face this morning... or, let’s face it, early afternoon?”

“Grampa Alan!” He called ahead, knocking once on the outside of the back door, before going straight inside.

Inside he found the elderly man in question, dressing himself up to the nines. He’d just doffed a respectable fedora and turned to the younger man. Oh crap... what was this about again?

“My place is hanging off a cliff.” Dennis managed to announce.

“I know. I tried to tell you that a few hours ago but you were passed out on your bed.”

“Oh... yeah. I guess I’m a heavy sleeper.” Dennis spluttered.

“You were passed out. On your bed.” The older man repeated sharply, and Dennis immediately felt guilt wash over him. It was a familiar sensation as he had experienced it for much of his life regarding anything to do with his family.

“You’re looking good this morning...” Dennis said, trying to break the awkward silence before it became completely paralysing.

The older man just turned and looked at him, his eyes seeming to judge him for every second it took him to figure it out.

“Oh shi-- oh God, is that today?! I’ll go get changed right now!” Dennis said, before running out of the house back down to his flat.

An old compatriot of his grandfather’s, Colonel Ironsides, had been killed in mysterious circumstances earlier this week. A grand public ceremony was being held for him. Apparently that was today...

Five minutes later, Dennis was walking back through the doorway of the main house, looking a bit more presentable if only in dress alone. He had a dress pants and a long sleeved white shirt on, albeit un-tucked, and intended to borrow a tie from his grandfather.

“So... this thing that happened last night. Do you think that could have anything to do with Colonel Ironsides?” Dennis asked, as he buttoned his collar in a mirror.

“No.” His grandfather answered.

“You don’t think maybe someone rubbed him out and remembered the old Aquilifer was from Little Ulster, Lost Haven?” He inquired, attempting to put his chosen tie on.

“Then why is our place completely untouched?” The older man responded. “I wouldn’t worry about it. It’ll be unrelated.”

Dennis looked at an old photo of his grandfather, big, broad and heroic. Smile across his face in the photo. “How can you be so sure?” he said, mainly for his own benefit, but Alan heard him.

“Because some things... your grandfather just knows.” He said. “Tch.” He said disapprovingly as he pulled apart the disaster that Dennis had made of his tie, and re-tied it. “You’ll find out in due time.” He smiled. “Not too shabby,” the older man thought, looking at how his grandson looked.

# In the time of chimpanzees I was a monkey, butane in my veins so I’m out to cut the junkie... #

The older man stepped back at the sound of the ringtone.

“Hello?”

“Yeah, Ma... sorry. I forgot, there was a whole thing. Yes, Grampa Alan’s fine too. Yes, I’m sorry. I know, you probably worried I said I was sorry...” Dennis said, before leaving to finish the call in another room.

The older man sighed and returned to his bedroom mirror to check himself.

He opened a drawer in his dresser and lifted his clothing to reveal a long, thin hidden compartment, about a foot in length. He tried to remember the last time he’d opened this compartment with the thought of taking the contents for himself, but he would today. In Ironsides honour. Not to use. Just in memory. To keep the power close.

Alan Coghlan opened the compartment and removed the Golden Rod. He smiled and felt it’s familiar weight in his hands. It felt heavier in his hands, than when he used to use it himself and he supposed it always would from this day onwards. But the familiar item brought a smile to his old face.

Dennis returned from the other room and saw the old man smiling while he held the device.

“Oh, I was wondering if you’d want me to take that today? See if—“ Dennis never finished his sentence.

The smile drained from the older man’s face and a scowl few would ever see replaced it.

“Don’t you dare even think about it.” Alan hissed.

“I was just meaning to...”

“I know exactly what you were thinking. The answer’s no. You WILL NOT use this man’s death as a stepping stone to publicity. To—to show off and parade yourself as the new—“ Alan barked.

“I just thought it was good for all active heroes to show up in force and support.”

“You haven’t earned the right.” The grandfather’s voice dropped to a calm, stern tone that was more frightening than when he’d been yelling. “You’re not an ‘active hero’ yet, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you use his funeral as some kind of coming out party.”

Dennis dropped the issue. The old man wasn’t entirely wrong and he knew it.

“I’m sorry—“ He offered an apology. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Just get in the car, Dennis.”

And the pair drove to the funeral in silence.

“Kyle, is that turkey club with extra mayo, extra bacon ready or what?” Sarah Rose called from the counter.

“Yeah, bringing it up now.” Kyle called back, somewhat annoyed with his co-worker.

The day at Brewed Awakenings had been going pretty well, until Sarah had decided to extend her break by twenty minutes, causing a backlog of customers at one of the busiest parts of the day. Kyle had done what he could to keep up with the ever growing line of customers, however, he was finally overcome by the crowd. Normally, it wouldn’t have been a problem, however, on this day, Grace had called in sick, and being by himself for such an extended period of time, he just was no longer able to keep up.

Kyle brought the sandwich in question to the front counter and immediately went back to begin one of the many coffee orders that he still has to complete.

“When you finish taking those orders, I could use a hand.” Kyle called up to Sarah, who nodded back noncommittally.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity Sarah joined him in the back and together they finished the orders, getting them to their anxious customers as quickly as possible. Though he was annoyed with her for causing the backup at the counter, she had a way about her that prevented him from staying angry with her for very long.

She was a year or so younger than him and had a carefree air about her that made working with her entertaining, at the very least. However, she did have the tendency to occasionally shirk her responsibilities, leaving whoever she was working with to face the wrath of off put customers on their own. This tended to cause her to incur the wrath of her coworkers, at least until she came back and flashed her warm smile, and all was forgiven…at least most of the time.

Finally, with the customers taken care of and business beginning to slow, Kyle went into the drawer beneath the cash register and took out the remote control for the TV, which was surprisingly left off when Sarah opened the café in the morning. All of the employees enjoyed leaving the TV on as it generally kept the customers quiet and helped the day go by slightly faster. As the screen came to life, the local noon news broadcast filled the café, which was normal for this time of the day. The owner of Brewed Awakenings, a 30 something Korean woman named Grace liked to have the news on for the customers to keep up to date on the daily goings on in Lost Haven.

“….went missing from her home late last night. The 17 year old…” Kyle caught the news anchor saying as the TV came to life.

“Oh geez…another one.” Sarah said as she heard the report.

“What do you mean?” Kyle asked.
“I think she’s like, the fourth or fifth one this month.” Sarah explained.

“Fourth or fifth?” Kyle said, unable to believe what he was hearing.

“Yeah. From what I understand they’re all different ages and don’t really have anything in common, except that they go missing from their bedrooms late at night.” She explained, before adding, “Pretty weird, right?”

“Yeah, pretty weird.” Kyle said, intentionally sounding disinterested in the events. However, he knew that when he was done with his shift at the café he was going to have Harry look into the disappearances. He didn’t know who was taking these kids, or why, but he knew that he was going to put a stop to it.

After Kyle’s shift at Brewed Awakenings mercifully came to an end, he had immediately made the trek across the city to Harry’s garage. Once he was there, he prepared for that evening’s patrol. As he was going through his various gadgets and supplies that he may need for the night’s activities, he told Harry about the reports of missing children in the area in recent days.

As Kyle was getting ready to return to the city, Harry had done some quick research, and found that what Kyle had heard was true. Over the last eight nights, 6 children between the ages of 10 and 17 had gone missing from their bedrooms while their parents had been sleeping. At first glance, the children had nothing in common. They came from a wide range of socioeconomic backgrounds, ethnicities, and family backgrounds. They also lived in all different area of Lost Haven. In fact, the only thing that the children seemed to have in common was the fact that each had seemingly vanished without a trace from their bedrooms in the late night hours. Harry had vowed to look further into the disappearances and give Kyle any new information he could find.

Once he had left The Garage, the night proved to be rather uneventful. Lyger had preventing a mugging just outside of the French Quarter, but other than that it proved to be extremely quiet. Lyger had decided to take one last sweep of the city before returning to Brooksdale, where he would check in again with Harry before calling it a night.

He left the rooftop which he had been perched atop of, and returned to the black supercar which he had dubbed Kaiju, which he had hidden in a nearby ally. With the area still quiet, he climbed into the car and set a course for Little Ulster, which had recently undergone a strange transformation. The run down section of the city which saw some of the worst crime rates in the city had been miraculously rejuvenated by a supposedly benevolent being. As a result, the crime rate in the area had dipped dramatically; however, crime in the neighborhood hadn’t been eradicated completely.

It wasn’t long before he saw something that caught his attention. Several blocks away from Lost Haven University’s main campus he came across what looked to be a car wreck of some sort. He could see that the hood of the lone vehicle looked to have been torn off and smoke poured from a small flame that had been ignited in the engine. As he approached, he could see a young woman, not much older than him who appeared to be talking to a man near the vehicle. However, as he got closer and was able to get a better look, he saw the fear in her eyes. He also saw another man laying on the ground not far from the car, his head appeared to be twisted around at an impossible angle.

Lyger sped Kaiju up as he bore down on the young woman and her tormentor, then brought the car to a screeching halt as he emerged from the vehicle to find out just what was going on.

“Step away from the girl.” Lyger growled at the man, who turned nonchalantly to face him.

“Wait your turn. Let us just finish with her, then we’ll get to you.” The man said in an eerily calm voice, before turning his back on him and taking another step toward the girl.

The young woman shrieked in fear as the man stepped closer to her. She began crying and carrying on about how he had torn her boyfriend from their car. Frantically, she called to her boyfriend, begging him to get up. However, Lyger didn’t need to examine the young man to know that he wouldn’t be able to do anything…ever again.

“I said, step away from the girl.” Lyger said as he bounded toward the man, grabbing him by the arm and spinning him around to face him.

That was when Lyger knew that something wasn’t right with this man. A smile crossed the man’s face, the goatee that adorned his face rose up on one side as the man sneered at him. However, it was the man’s eyes that caught his attention, unnerving him. The man’s eyes were completely black. There were no irises, no sclera, just what looked in the dark to be obsidian voids.

“And we said, wait your turn.” The man calmly said as he hit Lyger with a backhand that sent him crashing hard through the bulletproof windshield of Kaiju.

Before Lyger was able to move, the black eyed man was standing over him, pulling him up from the shattered windshield. The man had a tight grip on Lyger’s throat, and casually tossed him aside, sending him crashing hard to the pavement. Though he struggled to get to his feet and fight back, the black eyed man again stood before him, hitting him with a hard right hand, then grabbing the black clad hero by the throat and slamming him to the pavement.

“We hate interruptions.” The black eyed man said. “So we’ll just deal with you, then we’ll finish our business with the girl.” He finished as he placed his foot across Lyger’s throat and began to press down with all of his weight, even as Lyger struggled to keep the man from crushing his windpipe.

Zac Wilson | Kelly Brown
Zac and Kelly entered the Wayward Center through the back door so that they would not attract unneeded attention due to the fact that they were wearing multicolored super-hero costumes. While Zac entered into the building fine, Kelly accidentally struck her head on the top of the doorframe since she had not entirely become accustomed to her new height. Fortunately, Kelly’s extra-durable skin had reformed since her height had changed overnight. However, the doorframe could not say the same, resulting in a dent on the top portion of it.

“Oops...” Kelly whimpered, slightly embarrassed that she had just hit her own head on top of a doorframe, something she would have never though she would ever do in her life. All Zac could do was laugh, stretching out his hand to her. However, when she took his hand, instead of pulling her up, Zac was pulled down to the ground because of Kelly’s strength, landing right on top of her. After realizing what had just happened, both of them just broke out in laughing. After they had laughed together at their own expense, the young couple rose to their feet and went into the main room of the Wayward Center.

Alice was sitting at a table that was located at the side of the room. With a worried face, she was staring at a newspaper that sat on the table. One of the headlines read ‘Old Man Found Dead in the Lost Haven Bay’.

“What’s wrong?” Zac asked, perceiving the sadness in Alice’s face. While he knew that it was none of his business; nevertheless, he thought it would be the right thing to do.

“Oh, it’s nothing. It was only one of the people who stayed here a while back, a blind old man. However, according to the news, they found someone of the same description in the bay just on the edge of the city. Apparently, he died of illness.”

“Did the old man have a little boy as his guide?” Zac asked, wondering whether the old man was the same person as Tiresias, the elderly man who had teleported Zac into some ‘dream world’ where there were alternate versions of himself (and Kelly, although he never saw the dreamverse version of her).

“Why yes, he did have a little child guiding him. How did you know that?”

“Well,” Zac started, trading a glance with his girlfriend, “Um, about five months ago, we ran into a man who called himself Tiresias, who had the power to place people inside other’s dreams. Before we met him, Kelly and I both were injected with some experimental serum that gave us our powers. However, the formula had not been perfected, so our health started to deteriorate. However, once Tiresias was forced to teleport me into that ‘dream world’ by the people who did this to us,” Zac motioned towards how their bodies were changed, “the, um, inhabitants of the ‘dream world’ somehow cured the deteriorating effects of the serum. Does that make any sense?”

Alice nodded. “You would be surprised with what I see come through those doors. Anyways, let’s see what we can do about getting you two home.”

Suddenly, a tiny, bright light in the shape of an oval appeared in the center of the room. It kept growing and growing until it had the height of an average man. Finally, once the oval had grown to full size, a man stepped out. He was dressed like a hobo, wearing old, worn-out clothes and gloves with the fingers cut out.

“Stan,” Alice said, leaping out of her chair, “How many times did I tell you not to do that where people could be? You don’t know what would happen if someone was at the same place where your vortex would appear.”

However, Stan just ignored her protest. “The Wayward Center’s most frequent visitor arrives and there's not a warm welcoming?”

“Um,” Kelly began to say, scratching her head “Could anyone explain what just happened?”

“Easily,” Stan exclaimed, “I’m the Master of Time and Space, just like that Chinese dude on Heroes, minus the ‘Time’ part because I cannot time travel. But I can travel over space! I just create a wormhole between point A and point B and presto! Instant transportation!”

“Wait,” Zac replied, “Could you teleport me and Kelly back to Albany State College?”

“Of course I could get you guys to, um, where did you say?”

“Albany State College...” Zac muttered.

“Oh, yes, Albany State College. Um, if you don’t mind showing me where that is on a map? Or some type of picture? I kind of don’t want to land in a wall.”

“I would use my smartphone,” Kelly said, but she started to rub the sides of her legs where pockets would normally be on normal pants, “But super-hero spandex doesn’t really allow room for carrying one’s cell phones.”

“Well, you could use the desktop that we have here at the Wayward Center.” Alice said. Once Zac and Kelly found their apartment on Google Maps, Stan, while was staring at the computer monitor, clinched his hands together, causing a bright light to appear within his closed grip. In one fluid motion, he pulled his hands apart vertically, causing a portal similar to the one in which he arrived at the Wayward Center. He stuck a stick that he was carrying with him into the portal to test it, just to make sure that no one would get stuck in a wall or something along those lines.

“Is this your apartment?”

Zac reluctantly stuck his head through the portal, wondering if it was a smart idea to thrust his head through some weird portal. However, since he has already been teleported to some type of ‘dream world’, this couldn’t hurt either. On the other side of the portal was indeed their apartment, although someone cleaned up everything so that no one might suspect that Zac and Kelly had been kidnapped. Whoever the scientist was whom Zac met at Five Guys made sure that there was no evidence left to point back to him or anyone else.

“Yep, that’s our place.” Zac told Stan. “And Alice, thanks for letting us stay overnight. It meant a lot for both Kelly and me.” Kelly nodded, showing that she agreed with Zac sentiment.

“It was no problem,” Alice replied, “But before you go, I want to give Kelly these clothes I was able to gather up for her. Since she has probably outgrown her whole wardrobe besides her super-hero costume, I thought it would be quite useful to have a pair of civilian clothes that actually fit.” She handed the pair of clothes over to Kelly. In the stack of clothes was a long dress, which stopped at the hips so that Kelly could both hide her wasp abdomen and allow her arms to not be stuck underneath any clothing, and a nice shirt, which was loose at the bottom so that it would not constrict her arms.

Kelly and Zac said thanks and gave their goodbyes. Then the entered through the portal, teleporting them back to their apartment in Albany. Once they had fully entered their apartment, the wormhole behind them collapsed, disappearing from their sight.

On the coffee table next to the couch was Kelly’s phone, which had just begun to ring.

“I better take this. It’s my mom and apparently she has already tried to call me ten times already.” Kelly picked up the phone, answered the call, and slipped into their bedroom so that she might have some privacy while talking to her mom, no doubt about what had just happened to her and how it go all over YouTube.

Zac changed out of his super-hero costume and back into his normal clothes. He also placed the power-nullifying band around his wrist again, returning his appearance back to normal. Zac took a seat on the couch, intending to watch some television until Kelly go off the phone with her mother. However, the doorbell rung, which meant that Zac was not going to be relaxing just yet. When he opened the door, he discovered, to his surprised, that both his parents were at his doorstep.

I am Mercy.

I am the storm that must purge the city.

I am the fire that burns away the cancer and parasites that have grown unchecked.

I am the World’s chosen.

But then why do I cause such pain?

I gaze down through the hail of rain and the swirling waterspouts that my will has shaped from the World. The city groans beneath the storm as rain pummels it and the wind picks up cars and throws them about like toys. I stretch out my hands and the water spouts move in unison to obliterate a series of gang infested slums where the cancer festers and the parasites feed.

I am still cloaked in light and none can see me but I see the men and women below me as they die. The cancer cannot be spared, the parasites must be purged. I cannot leave a single node of cancer untouched no matter the cost. It is mercy that they die in the purge and that they do not suffer a long death from the cancer that infests the World.

The storm ravages the city for another few moments before I decide the time is right. I glance down again and see a man in a metal suit rip the roof off a car to save a child. He may be a servant of the cancer and the parasites but the act touches me. One of the water spouts rushes towards him and I decide the time is now.

I remember the prayers and cheers that I heard when I healed Little Ulster and I decide that if it helps I will feed the desire of the people who deserve to live on the healed World. I call to the World and tell it to change as a torrent of red light descends from the sky to engulf me and then I drop the veil. To the World it is as if I appeared from the light.

“Enough!” I cry out as I thrust my arms out from my body and the storm recoils. I see water spouts shatter instantly and the storm clouds begin to fade away. I descend to the man with the metal suit and I gently move him aside with a wrapping of solidified air. The little girl he saved begins to cry, begging for her mother and I look upon her mother’s battered body.

There is still a tiny thread of life in her and I tell the World to change and extend my hand towards her. “Live.” I say simply as I force the body to heal and the mortal wounds heal over in an instant.

I turn back to the man as a crimson angel and say two simple words. “You called?”

A GROWING PROBLEM – PART IV

A deft leap is all that prevents me from becoming a Mantis sized splatter on the bleachers. As I twist and turn in the air, I fire a barrage of stingers at Foliage’s vine. The darn thing’s too thick. It twitches as the little bursts of bio-electricity land, but I doubt I’m doing anything more than tickling it. I think I’ll have to adopt a different strategy.

I land somewhere in the nosebleed section of Conway-Kane Memorial Stadium. Down on the field, Foliage is standing atop an oversized leaf, a good twenty-five feet or more above the ground. I call down to him, “Come on, Foliage. It doesn’t have to be like this. You and me, we’re both guys who clearly have an appreciation for the color green… can’t we just talk this out?”

“What did talking ever get me?” Foliage scoffs. He motions to his prisoner, the barely conscious football player, still hanging from the field goal post by a web of vines. “Guys like him? They only respond to strength. Well, I’ll show them all just how strong I am!”

Foliage throws his hand in my direction, and a veritable swarm of leaves flies at me. I twist and turn as best I can, but there are too many leaves to dodge them all. The few that get through to me are thin and razor-sharp. They slice through the green spandex of my costume, cutting into the skin beneath just as easily. One of them catches me flush on the side, an inch or two below my armpit. I reach for the wound instinctually, and in that moment’s hesitation Foliage blindsides me with his vine.

The hit knocks me down from the bleachers and sends me hurtling towards the field below. Hitting the turf hard, I no longer envy football players. This surface has absolutely no give. I nearly dislocate my shoulder from the force of impact alone. I have no time to react before Foliage is on me again. He summons thorny branches up from the ground which wrap themselves my ankles. I wince as the thorns pierce my skin.

“You are seriously—ouch—making me rethink whether saving the environment is such a good idea,” I grimace. I fire stingers at the thorny branches, and this time it works. The branches recoil, freeing up my legs once more. Not a moment too soon, either, as Foliage was preparing to bring down his vine on me. I dart to the side, popping my exoskeletal blades once more. When the vine hits the turf, I throw myself blades first at it. The blades dig into the side of the vine, and Foliage lets out a cry.

“You shouldn’t have done that!”

I glance over my shoulder at him. “Oh? Then you’re really going to be upset about this!” I pull my arms apart, and the exoskeletal blades cleave the vine nearly in half along its diameter. The inside of the vine is fluorescent green and glistening. Retracting my blades, I fire charged stingers from each hand at the exposed core.

The vine recoils so violently that I’m thrown backwards through the air. I crash into the visitor team’s bench, knocking over an empty Gatorade cooler. Foliage, meanwhile, holds his hands to his head and shrieks as his vine withers. The dying plant collapses on the field lifelessly. Foliage lowers himself to the turf, mouth still agape. When he turns to me at last, his eyes are burning with rage. “You’ll pay for that, insect!” he seethes.

The ground begins to shake, and suddenly more than a dozen smaller vines burst through the turf. The vines whip through the air erratically, no doubt reflecting Foliage’s unstable mental state. He’s getting stronger as time goes on. It’s not enough for me to deal with his creations. If I want to bring this insanity to an end, I have to go for the guy pulling the strings. And it looks like that means fighting my way through a thicket of angry plants.

“I always did hate weeding,” I mutter to myself.

Foliage launches his vines at the same time that I begin charging for him. I duck under the first one, only to take a sharp slap across the face from another. A third vine catches my ankle and pulls my weight out from under me. As I’m falling, yet another vine wraps itself around my throat. I reach for it, but both my wrists are quickly tangled up as well. Foliage kneels down in front of me.

“You know what I admire most about plants?” he asks, a sinister gleam in his eyes. “Their resiliency. You see, long after we’re gone, the plants will reclaim the earth. And all this?” He motions to the stadium. “Everything mankind has built? It will all be forgotten.” He glares at me. “Not unlike you.”

As Foliage stands, a bright purple flower sprouts from the dirt in front of me. The flower slithers like a snake until it’s at eye level. The bud opens slowly, revealing an intricate pattern of yellow and white across the flower’s petals. Suddenly, the flower turns to face me. There’s a soft puff, and a cloud of yellow bursts from the center of the flower. As soon as the cloud reaches my nose and mouth, I begin coughing and gasping for air. The last thing I remember seeing is Foliage’s smug expression as more and more vines begin to envelop me…

Christopher Arthur III
Chris held the child in his metallic arms. However, a giant twister made water quickly approached both hero and child. Chris based the child to his chest so that he might be able to defend it against the harsh forces of the waterspout. But when the waterspout was supposed to hit him, nothing happened. All the waterspouts had disappeared, as did all the rain and hurricane-level winds. The nightmare of the storm had been replaced with turrets of red light.

A crimson, angelic figure descended from the sky and headed toward Chris. She pushed Chris and the child aside without any physical contact, apparently transforming the air around him into a solid state. Then she seemingly resurrected the mother of the then-orphaned child. The mother’s breath rushed back into her lungs, bringing her back to life.

Then the crimson angel turned to Iron Knight. “You called?”

“Why of course I called. However, by no means did I call you. Rather, I was calling upon the aid of Zeus Ombrios so that he might calm these winds. And as we have seen, my prayer to him has indeed worked! My prayer worked, in addition to the one hundred or so cattle I slaughtered to him on an altar dedicated to him.

The crimson angel gave Chris a blank stare, wondering what in the world Chris was talking about.

“That was a joke,” Chris quickly replied, “Zeus is a sky god in Greek Mythology. Anyways, when did God die and made you a goddess? Who gave you the right to play god, choosing who dies and who lives? Before Rome became an Empire, the city itself was only sacked once by the Gauls. However, once Rome was no longer the capital of the Western Empire and when the Western Empire collapsed, Rome was sacked six times. Creating power vacuums do not solve problems, but only create worse ones.”

It’s still chilly and I kind of wish I had decided to give Kyle a call and see if he wanted to come over instead of listening to Emily and going out to “Be a hero again”. But I did decide to listen to her and something in the back of my mind tells me I made the right choice. It’s strange and I can’t put my finger on it but something does not feel right about the night.

I think it started the night I met Kyle, the night had never scared me before. But now some of the shadows seem wrong and I see shivers of movement out of the corner of my eyes. But when I turn to look at them there is nothing there.

My armor is already summoned but it’s awkward. I don’t know what I’m doing and I just got lucky a few days ago when I ran into those men (Dark Possessed). It is almost like an echo in my head as I walk down the sidewalk.

If I don’t run into anything soon I’m just going to go home and call Kyle anyway even though it’s la--. What was that? I’m jerked out of my pleasant day dreams, which I wish I had when I slept instead, by a crash and the crunch of breaking glass. It had to have come from close by and though I’m afraid I feel that strange sensation of direction.
I start to run towards the corner that the sound came from and when I glance down at my right hand I hold the glowing blade again. But I don’t remember drawing it.

Turning the corner I see a terrible sight. The wrecked cars, a dead man on the ground and another man standing over a fallen one in what looks like a costume. My eyes widen behind my mask, I recognize the costume from the news. Ly uhm, Ly-something.

I want to cringe but I feel myself charging forward towards the man. No, he isn’t a man. Slivers of darkness leak off his body and again the phrase Dark Possessed flicks through my mind. I swing the glowing blade at the Dark Possessed but somehow it moves before I can strike it.

It jumps away with inhuman agility and I see the black eyes rise to stare at my mask. Does it know me? I could swear that I saw recognition in the dark eyes.
“We see you.” I hear its voice and I feel nauseous at the malevolence in it. “You will not stop us this time. You are ALONE.”

But as it talks I keep moving as if guided by another hand and while it brags the glowing blade slides into the fleshy part of its left arm. An inhuman scream tears free of its throat and I see the Dark abandon the host as a black cloud pouring from his mouth.

They cannot re-enter. Another thought that I do not recognize pops into my head. But there are other hosts. Suddenly it clicks as the cloud swirls towards the fallen man in a costume and starts to condense to funnel into his mouth. I have to stop it first. “Aldras vo narel” I speak words without thinking and a globe of golden light blossoms outwards from my body to scatter the cloud into wisps that faded back into the night.

I only hope I was not too late. I kneel down next to the fallen hero and press the blade against him. There is no scream and I stand up again as if by instinct before the guidance fades away.

“Are, are you okay?” I ask shakily with adrenaline still pumping and confused by the words it had spoken.

Lyger struggled to keep the black eyed man’s foot from crushing his windpipe. However, the man’s strength was like nothing that he had ever faced before. He assumed that he had finally come face to face with a super powered criminal, and was distraught with his ineffectiveness against such a foe. After struggling against the increased pressure of the black eyed man’s boot pressing toward his throat for what seemed like minutes, Lyger began to feel his strength fade as the man’s boot began to press against his throat.

As he could feel the man’s boot across his throat, Lyger began to fear that this would be the end. A million things began to run through his mind all at once. He felt guilty that he never returned his father’s last phone call, and that he wasn’t able to ever really reconcile with the man who had raised him. He felt sorrow at his glaring failure as a hero, meeting his end so soon into his career.

Then his thoughts drifted to his friends, and how he felt guilty for leaving them behind. Ronnie, Sam, Dmitri, Hannah, and even Keri. When he thought of his ex, there was a pang of guilt over their last conversation, and how he would never be able to make that right. But mostly, he thought of Adeline. He had really enjoyed the time that he had been spending with her over the last few days, and had been looking forward to seeing how things would progress between them. Suddenly, he felt remorse over the fact that he would never be able to say goodbye.

He gave one last push against the black eyed man’s boot, however, the futility of his resistance became ever clearer as the black eyed man’s foot pressed down on his windpipe, and he felt the crushing pressure press against him as it became increasingly difficult to draw breath.

Suddenly, Lyger was aware of movement around him, and the pressure against his throat was gone. He was vaguely aware of the presence of someone else, and from the corner of his eye, he thought that he saw something…a blade of sorts that glowed against the darkness. He wasn’t entirely sure what was going on around him, however his lungs burned as he greedily inhaled the cold night air.

He heard the black eyed man taunting whoever had arrived to help him, however he was unable to make out the specifics of the conversation as he was too busy attempting to catch his breath. However, he watched as the armored figure who had rescued him swung her glowing blade at the black eyed man, and looked on in shock as a black cloud of sorts erupted from the man. The strange black cloud almost seemed to be alive as it lingered over the man, as if it were attempting to reenter him. Once it seemed to be aware that for whatever reason it couldn’t do so, the cloud moved over to Lyger himself.

As Lyger lay on the ground he looked up as the cloud crept toward him, seemingly attempting to invade his body as it had done to the man who had just nearly killed him.

“Aldras vo narel” the armored rescuer exclaimed as a golden light seemingly exploded from her body and dissipated the black cloud before him.

Lyger felt his rescuer’s blade press against him momentarily, and he wondered if whoever this was had staved off the attack from the black eyed man just to claim him for herself. Then, the armored figure pulled the blade away from him.

“Are you okay?” She had asked, her voice slightly shaking.

“Yeah.” Lyger muttered, still confused about what he had just seen. “What the hell was that?”

Zac Wilson | Kelly Brown
This could have been the worst possible time during which Zac’s parents could have paid a visit to Zac and Kelly’s humble apartment. Even though the apartment had zero signs of the forceful entry that resulted in their kidnapping, Zac had to worry about his parents finding out about their powers, since Kelly was in the other room with no means of regaining her normal human form. Neither Zac nor Kelly had told their parents about what they could do (although Kelly probably was telling her mother about it right at this moment). Zac was going to try to stall, but he knew that that would probably not work because he would have to convince his parents somehow to leave before Kelly comes out of their bedroom.

So, Mom, Dad, why the unexpected visit?” Zac asked his parents, although he knew by the expression on his mom’s face that she was going to make heads roll.

“Why in the world do you not have your cell phone on! We been trying to reach you for the last day! We wanted to make sure you and Kelly were alright, since we heard about some nasty YubeTou video...”

“YouTube, Mom...” Zac interrupted his mother.

“Yes, YouTube video. We heard on the news about a video involving Kelly and just wanted to look into what was happening.”

Zac’s greatest fear was happening. Both his parents had seen the YouTube video in which the other nursing students pranked Kelly by severing the power-nullifying band from her arm, revealing her wasp-appearance on the internet. Zac was not sure whether his parents believed the video was actually real or not.

“Oh, I think I know what you are talking about.” Zac said, still nervous about his girlfriend bursting out of their bedroom at any moment. “Quite the special effects and CGI that people can use now a days. Heck, it almost fooled me when I first saw it.”

“I don’t know, Zac.” Mr. Wilson said, “It looked pretty real to us. It even showed her pulling a door off its hinges.”

“Don’t worry. I can assure you that it is not...” Zac was about ready to finish the sentence by saying “real”, but Kelly suddenly burst into the room, wearing the new outfit that Alice had provided for her right before they returned to Albany.

“Hey Zac, look how nice the new outfit looks. It even covers up my wasp abdomen quite well.” Kelly said, spinning around in place, which caused her dress to billow in a circular motion. However, once she realized that Zac had not replied, Kelly stopped in place and saw why her boyfriend had not asked her. Kelly had not realized until that time that Zac’s parents where in their apartment. She was too busy on the phone with her mother and trying on her ‘new’ clothes. “Oh crap.” She cursed under her breath, understanding what she had just done.

Zac’s mother immediately fainted, not truly knowing how she would respond to seeing Kelly’s true appearance in person. Zac even had to dash over and catch her so that she would not strike the ground. However, Zac’s father responded to this situation much better than his wife did. He even gave out a chuckle.

“Well, at least we know who broke Zac’s door over winter break.” Mr. Wilson laughed.

“I didn’t mean to break that door. Nor did I mean to terrify your wife with my appearance. It just, well, happened.” Kelly replied, averting her eyes away from Zac’s father because she already felt guilty about what had just happened.

“Don’t worry about it. I have always lived by the saying ‘Don’t judge a book by its cover’. And Kelly, I already know the pages within your book are golden. Why should we judge you differently when you look different on outside if your inside looks the same?”

“I wish my parents had taken the news as well as you did.” Kelly sighed.

“Don’t worry. I’ll talk to them and see if I can win them over.” Mr. Wilson reassured his sons’ girlfriend, placing a hand on her shoulder, even though she was even taller than he was.

“Dad, I also have a confession to make.” Zac announced as he was removing the power-nullifying band from his wrist, causing his raptoresque form to appear. “I’m also like Kelly. Not exactly like her, but I too have powers.”

Mr. Wilson wrapped his arms around his son, who now stood a few inches below him. “That goes for you too, son. It doesn’t matter what has happened to you. You are still my son, and your mother and I will always love you. You should feel reassured that I won’t be lighting you up like that dinosaur I killed five months ago.”

“You have a twisted sense of humor, Dad.” Zac answered his father’s joke that was definitely in response to Zac’s dinosaur-like appearance.