Well, I’ve gotten myself into quite the precarious situation. That’s what I get for assuming that a bad guy with a gun could not possibly have superpowers, too. I mean, why would you need a firearm when you yourself are a living weapon? I guess the element of surprise would explain it. And because of this error on my part, I’m now holding onto this webline for my dear life or else I’m going to be stuck on the ceiling like the other cops and security crew. Why can’t the bad guys just surrender when the heroes ask politely? Jerks.

My hands began to slip as the lack of gravity’s effect on my body continued to pull me up towards the ceiling. Thank God there is a ceiling or there would be quite a few dead people in space right about now. I tried to tighten my grip on the silk rope, but the webline continued to slip ever so slowly through my hands. I only had a little more than a foot of spider silk left to hold onto. I have even tried to make new weblines that were longer. However, unless its length could reach the top of the ceiling, this strategy would not solve my problem, but only delay it.

“Let go, child.” Athena suddenly appeared before me. I assumed she was invisible to everyone else in the room, since that was her style. Let go? Is she crazy? What would be the point of that? I would be stuck on the roof and that Newton guy would be unopposed on the ground. Sure, Chris was down there, but he was unarmed. What good could he do? However, I was not sure whether to express my disbelief in her advice. If Athena was invisible, would it look like I’m talking to myself? I obviously don’t want to make myself look insane. Well, more insane than I already do by running around in this skin-tight costume while playing superhero.

“Newton’s gravity manipulation powers might be temporary and may rely on him remaining in the immediate proximity. If he escapes, then those men and women stuck on the ceiling will fall to their deaths.” Well, if she puts it that way, I guess my talents would be better utilized helping those stranded officers and guards than holding onto this silk rope.

Therefore, I took a deep breath and released my grip on the silk rope, causing me to float up towards the ceiling. It kind of felt like what you would think that one scene from the old Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory movie where the boy and his grandfather were floating after drinking from that bottle in the final room. Minus the burping, of course. And the killer ceiling fan. I would still be holding onto that webline for my dear life if that was the case.

Once I felt my back hit up against the ceiling, I used my ability to cling to almost any surface to flip myself over so that I could crawl around the ceiling. Now that I was safely on the ceiling, I turned my attention to the people whom I was supposed to be rescuing. The first person I came upon was the rookie who took the premature shot at Newton. He was shaking all over, probably terrified that at any moment he might be plunged to his death.

“Don’t worry. I gotcha.” I tried to console the man while I tethered him to the ceiling with silk produced from the spinnerets in my wrists. It took me a few minutes to secure everyone, since there were quite a few people stranded up here by Newton’s powers. About a baker’s dozen or so.

However, before I could get to the last person, the laws of gravity were restored. Since I was using my powers to cling to the ceiling, my body did not notice the difference, but I knew it was back when the last officer began to fall. Instinctively, one of my hind spider legs pulled some silk from the spinnerets on my spider abdomen and attached it to the ceiling before I leaped after the women. I pushed off from the ceiling towards the woman, aiming to catch her before she went splat on the floor. Once she was safely in my arms, I tried to use my hind spider legs to slow our descent. However, I also could not abruptly stop our descent, since the change in momentum would probably break the officer’s neck. The floor appeared to rush closer and closer to us (although I know that it was obviously the reverse: the ground was not moving). When we finally came to a complete stop, our heads were only inches from the floor.

“Well, that was close. I told the female officer who I had just rescued from falling to her death. I then helped her to her feet, turning her right-side up. Once she was safely earthbound, and after my spider-sense reassured me that I would not squash anyone (Hey! If Marvel can make Spider-Gwen look like me, then I can call my sixth sense a spider-sense.), I released the webline that I had just created and jumped down onto the floor back onto all eight of my legs.

Now that I had averted one crisis, I found another starting on the ground floor. I saw that Chris was sitting on the floor with his hand grasping his forehead. A paramedic was crotched down in front of Chris, tending to a cut on his face.

“That jackass pistol-whipped me.” Chris complained as he winced at the burning sensation of the rubbing alcohol that the paramedic was applying to the location where Newton hit him. “Once my armor arrives, he’s not going to know what hit him.”

“Well, assuming we get the rest of the people off the roof, at least nobody got hurt.” Chris gave me a sour look after I said that nobody got hurt, despite that fact that he got pistol-whipped to the face. I could have relished his expression if it were not what he said next.

“He took Maya.” After he spoke, I turned around and saw that his red-headed date was in fact missing. My cloud clone…thing was still standing there, so that’s a relief. It kind of would have been a little awkward if I had to go rescue myself. But on the other hand, that would give me some deniability that I’m not Arachne, even though I am.

“You know what. Why don’t you stay here and get those people off the roof while I go save your girlfriend.”

_{banner credit to Nitemare Shape}



Time: 2:30 PM - Six hours of Walking Later
Location: Outside of Carver, Maine

Berenice was sweating, and her legs were burning with the most intense pain she could ever imagine. Her torturer had slowed pace for her several times, but it was not until they had finally entered the woods that she began to feel better. The fresher air had begun filtering to her more than an hour ago, and she had not realised how gross the skies above the city had felt until she made it back here to her home territory. Once they were out of sight of the suburbs, she perked up immensely, and actually quickened her pace despite her pain.

Her speech became rapid fire as she began pointing out landmarks that were almost invisible except to the creatures that lived here exclusively. ”See, Car-lee? Right there is the stain where I got three squirrels at once! Three! And just over there is one of the best rocks for sunning! Ooh, and in a few minutes we’ll see the creek I take baths in normally. The fish here are sooo much better than the ones I got you earlier!”

Charlie laughed, in a good mood herself. It’d been awhile since she had been outside the city for a good hike. After a full night of walking and then later a full morning of walking, Charlie had admitted she too was tired leaning heavily on her staff as she walked, thankful for the relief it gave. Not to mention hungry, she fished out a power bar from the bottom of her backpack. “I’m sure they are, glad we made it without a problem. The disguise went off without a hitch.” She took a deep breath of fresh air in, “I joke about getting out of the city, but I think I’d go crazy with the quiet out here. The serenity of it all.”

“Nice set up, though. Good place for a birdlady to do her thing.” Charlie commented. “I guess nobody bugs ya out here.”

”No, no one comes out this far. I do not know why, but I like it. Too many walkers and I would have to move. Oh, we are here!” They had emerged from a thick wall of trees out onto a promontory overlooking the ocean two hundred feet below. The sound of the surf, now unrestricted by dense foliage, sounded clearly as the waves continued their eternal war against the coast. Outside of the line of trees, only grass and wildflowers reigned. However, the grass was much less dry than most coastal grasses, lush and verdant. Bees hummed along on their busy runs, and several thrushes flitted about, catching and eating them.

On the tip of the promontory was the remains of a blasted cabin. It might have been a handsome log affair at one point, but splinters of wood scattered almost to the treeline attested to its violent destruction. One corner, facing out to the sea, had survived, along with a few stubs of walls. Between these were strung lines of ivy and scavenged strings, and from those dangled all of Berenice’s various treasures, mostly shiny objects and animal bones. To one side, in a pile that had collapsed down the hill a bit, was a pile of bones. None of them were human, but at least one skull among those was of a larger herbivore, perhaps a female deer.

Charlie followed behind Berenice, her old skirt catching some grass. Her hand brushing through it appreciatively as she walked. Marveling at the natural sight, her eyes settling on the cabin. She stepped into the not-so-humble abode. “Shit, Berry. You’re a scavenger too.” She said with delight, running a hand at the broken walls of the cabin. “This cabin though, it’s a total wreck. Do you know what happened?”

The alchemist didn’t think it was unreasonable to ask, but she figured the siren wouldn’t know.

Berenice shrugged noncommittally as she fluttered up to the corner, not caring about her disguise now that they were out of sight of normal people. ”I do not know. This is where I was born, I think. There are still some things from before, but I do not know what they are.” She gestured over to a spot underneath one section of surviving wall. There, covered by a torn section of tarpaulin, was a small cache of magical accouterments. Glass shards and broken alchemical bottles, some still stained with their contents, a broken stick or wand of some sort, a twisted and half-melted silver dagger, and, underneath the rest, still mostly buried under wreckage and apparently something the siren had missed and just happened to stack the rest of the junk on top of it, a charred, leather-bound tome.

Shuffling up her mask over her nose on reflex, her boots making prints in the disturbed dust on the ground. Her eyes on the wall. Charlie approached the wall lifting the tarpaulin up squinting at the contents behind it recognizing the odd assortment of items, especially the tome. She looked up to Berenice and asked, “Do you mind? I know what some of this stuff is.”

Berry shrugged again. ”I have no use for it, so go ahead. I am hungry. I will go get lunch.” She took off the beret, hanging it carefully on one of her treasure lines, and took off out towards the sea, soaring on the strong breeze coming off of the water.

Charlie watched her go, shielding her eyes from the kick up of her take off. She turned back around looking at her surroundings, the treasures, the bones, everything. There was some value to the shinier things she had hung up, metal and coins. Her foot shifted across the floorboards, her heel knocking once and twice for hollow spots as she checked the layout. Eventually rounding back to the wall, gathering up the old styled alchemical bottles. Her grandpa had a few of these kicking around at home for nostalgia’s sake. Her hand hovered over the silver dagger, feeling something strange coming off it. Picking it up curiously she squinted her thumb running across the smoothed melted metal. It seemed to resonate with the magic inside her, she tried to transmute the silver. The material refused to budge.

“Huh.” She said to herself putting the dagger aside finally moving onto the tome.

Brushing the dust off it she pulled it free from it’s hiding spot, opening it slowly with audible crack of burnt leather. She tried to pull some of the ash free from it, cleaning up the binds enough to let her open it without it falling apart. It was an understatement to say it was just in rough shape.

Sitting on her butt, crossing her long legs she flipped through the pages. Handwritten much like how many witches, sorcerers, and magic casters kept their own grimoires. She recognized some horrific rituals in English, Latin and even a little German in the anecdotes mixed generously. As she delved, her hands shook. Some passages were complete while others were destroyed by fire. Gruesome art depicting human shape being torn apart, terribly clinical notes on results of experimentation. She read on, near the end of the book there were scribbled notes and a faint sketch of Berenice’s face.

She bit at her lip beneath the mask, pained as she stared down at the sketch. This is beyond fucked up.

Her curiosity burned through her disgust, she turned the page. Jot notes about Berenice’s powers listed her ability to sing to scream, what damage she could approximately make. Guesswork mostly. Notes on what her creator really wanted to do with her as a servant or soldier. Silver mirrors being used to… control her? Disable her? It was extensive, no clues on who this necromancer used for Berenice’s creation.

“Fucker.” She muttered down at the page.

The next page was a sketch of the local area and what appeared to be the leylines, on the map was noted where the cabin was and a distinctly very strange funnel drawn directly from the leyline. In an underline next to the funnel was the word POWER.

A fat haddock slapped onto the ground directly in front of Charlie as the siren swept low overhead, and then perched back where she had been, another fish still struggling in her hands. She grinned at the alchemist, hair still dripping with seawater. ”These ones fought hard, so they should taste very good.” She punctuated the statement by biting deep into the spine of the fish she held, blood pouring forth as the creature died. Spitting out the chunk of bone and flesh, she said, ”I am sorry, I know walkers like their food burnt, but I do not know how to make fire and I think you like it less burnt than I could make it. Find anything you can use?” She looked at Charlie as she bit into her fish, watching politely for the response.

Charlie shot off the floor with a shriek at Berenice’s return, the tome flipped upside down and her staff held out. “I- I swear to fucking God, Berry! Fuck me!”

She held her chest hoping for her heart to slow down a pace. She looked up at her dripping head, blood stains from the fish around her mouth, reminding her all too well of the scary shit she finished reading about. Poking at the book with the end of her staff she said collecting her composure, “Found out quite a bit. You’re the result of some sick bastard’s experiment.”

She ignored the fish, pulling the mask down her jaw set in a hard line. “Frankenstein bullshit is what. Necromancy, leylines, human experimentation.” Stepping up to the book again she used her staff to flip it over, not willing to touch it with her hands. Stabbing at the page with Berenice’s sketch.

She was shocked at the vehemence in Charlie’s voice. ”I only barely know what those words mean, Car-lee. But it sounds bad. Does that mean I am bad?” She lowered her fish, staring at her companion with her golden eyes. ”I do not feel bad. But you sound...angry. Is it me?”

Charlie closed her eyes, taking a deep breath in through her nose. From the day she spent with Berenice, she could say firmly that she wasn’t bad just her extremely volatile origins. Her instincts told her that much, rarely were they wrong. The alchemist licked her lips before answering, she looked up and right in her eyes. Letting there be no mistake, she meant what she said.

“No. You’re not bad, Berenice. Berry… You’re fine, a little rough around the edges but- people say the same about me. I’m angry at your creator, angry he-they-who the fuck ever decided it was a good idea to do this. Decided that human life meant nothing for the sake of his experiments.” She said, firm and with a warm conviction. “Let’s eat, then maybe I don’t know catch up with Carrie if I can get a decent signal.”

Charlie smiled picking up the fish with her bare hands, dusting off the best she could. “I just need a sharp stick.”

Berenice’s head snapped up as a sharp, echoing clap sounded across the ruins. Leaning up against the edge of the ruined wall was an old man, grizzled and bent, though still obviously capable of quick movement, as he had crossed into their space without either of them noticing. “Well spoken, child,” he said, in a commanding baritone. “Well spoken indeed. And that confirms you are not the little pissant that made her, so I don’t have to kill you.”

“Sh-Shit!” Charlie yelped, turning her back to Berenice and adopting a defensive position her staff held out with both hands, glaring at the man.

He rocked himself off of the wall with a twist of his hips, and the shabby overcoat he wore flipped open for a moment, revealing a well-worn sword hilt hanging at his hip. The man fairly oozed sorcerous power. “And, if I make the logical assumption of that speech that you are a genuinely good person and of sound judgement, then that means I do not have to kill her, either.” He nodded his head at Berenice, who had dropped her fish and flared her wings out, baring her teeth and the claws of her hands, clearly ready to defend Charlie and herself.

“Easy, girls. I am no enemy of yours,” he said, holding his hands up to show they were empty. “Rather, I would be after the one who created her. Seeing how, after all, he is my responsibility.” Behind him, still against the wall, leaned a staff much like Charlie’s, though covered in runes and bits of shamanic totems.

“Who the fuck are you?” Charlie snapped, her eyes roaming his body noting the sword, the staff, his build. Picking up on the way the air seemed to change with his entry. It became charged more so than what she noticed spending the day with Berenice. It prickled at her forehead. “Answer real quick, I haven’t a lick of control over Berry here.”

The man chuckled, clearly at ease. “You can call me Salamander. Everyone does these days. Don’t ask why, it’s an oldjoke. And to more clearly answer your question, I suppose you could say I am the siren’s grandfather, or as close as she’s like to get. I taught her maker most of what he knew. Or knows, perhaps.” He made a gesture, and the tome snapped through the air and into his hands. He flipped it open, still talking as he perused.

Charlie’s expression hardened at the show of force, her grip tightening on the staff her magic seeping into the wood, moving up to the copper she modified into it.

“I did not, however, teach him any of this. He left my endorsement some time ago, and I have been trying to find him, fearing what path he would likely take and hoping I was wrong. Unfortunately, I was not,” he glanced up at Berenice and his face radiated sorrow. “And some have suffered direly for my tardiness.”

“As for you, miss,” he said, turning his gaze to Charlie, “I am in your debt for caring for this poor creature. Had I found her before you, I may not have realised my error before putting her down as an abomination created by a mad man, instead of giving her a chance like I am now.” He dropped the book, which flared into bright blue flames and was more than half ash before it hit the ground.

“The name is Alchemyst, I read the book.” She said keeping eye contact shuffling her footing, ever so slightly. “So you’re in my debt eh? Does that mean a free ticket to leave?” She watched his expression, looking for signs of a liar. She knew she could use the various treasures Berenice had collected for their escape. Her own pocket was full of escape routes as well. She had no interest in fighting him, he clearly had control over his own brand of sorcery whatever it was. “Hardly believe a word you say, you’ve got some charisma about ya that is setting off alarm bells. Don’t trust you.”

She was plain, while her mind worked at the tin next.

Berenice, for her part, had frozen at the word ‘grandfather’. She knew the meaning well enough, but from what her two new friends had said, she wasn’t likely to have one. Her wings dropped and she relaxed slightly, but remained watchful.

“Oh, I won’t keep you here. You can leave if you want. But she,” he looked back at the siren, “cannot. Not yet, at any rate. She’s quite young, yes? She needs to learn control, conscious use of her power. I would not be surprised to learn that there were mistakes.” He sighed. “And given how she seems to be staying alive, what is keeping her together, she will need to know how to defend herself.”

He held up a hand, forestalling protestation. “I know, she can get by with friends, and I am not, right now, trustworthy. But I assure you, I mean neither of you any harm.” The tome had finished burning, leaving nothing behind. He kicked at it with one roughshod boot, growling under his breath. “And as it is, I need to make very sure my student does not return in any form to wreak more havoc on innocent lives.”

“As for the boon, I will leave it up to you what you might desire. I am a very old and very accomplished gatherer of secrets. I could teach you any number of things.”

Charlie chewed on what he said, finally after a moment she stood up straight, spinning the staff in her hand it hit floorboard with a large metallic thunk to stop. “You really think he could have survived this?” She gestured to their surroundings. “This place is a wreck. He would have had to cast some serious wards, already had some in place, whatever, to protect himself from all this damage. From what I read, he didn’t strike me as the type to not… take precautions.” Breaking eye contact with the man, Salamander, she looked to Berenice.

“He’s right about one thing though, Berry. You had no idea what you were doing with your voice earlier today when you sang, as knowledgeable as Carrie is I don’t think she can teach you to control what you can do.” She admitted quietly, “I hate to say it, because this guy is slick as oil. The choice is up to you, Berry. I’ll stay if you want to stay, I’ll crack this guy over the head if you asked me to. But, you get the final say on this.”

She tucked a little bit of hair behind Berenice’s ear, “You’re one of us, so we stick together yeah?”

Berenice stared at the man for a moment, and then at Charlie. Her tail feathers flicked while she thought, and she stood on one foot, and then the other, obviously struggling with the decision. She really knew neither of these people that well, but then, the children hadn’t known her and they were now her best friends. Her wings stretched out and closed back in close to her body.
”That is not necessary, Car-lee. Sally-man may be strange, but so are we. If I am one of us, so is he, yes?” The old man smiled, but her gaze flicked back to him.

”That does not mean I trust you, Sally-man. You may come to the edge of the woods from now on, no further. If you come into my nest again uninvited I will claw your eyes out of your head and eat them.” She hopped down from the top of the wall and down to stand next to Charlie. She offered a hand for a shake. ”You, my friend, are welcome to stay, if you wish. I will let the Sally-man stay if you want to learn things. But you must be tired.”

Charlie shook her hand smiling, the handshake at the top of the most normal thing she did all day today. “Exhausted, actually.” She pointed with her staff at Salamander. “Not tired enough to kick your ass if I need to.”

“Whatever I need to learn I learn from my own mentor. I don’t get much about other types of magic but sorcerers rarely understand alchemy even if they tried.” She added with no small amount of arrogance “He can hang out in the woods if he wants. The raw haddock is looking better by the second.”

The Salamander smiled genuinely, a glint in his eye. “Well, I will take my leave. I will return with the dawn, Siren.” He looked over at Charlie, and said with a wink, “If you ever have trouble with it, since I know a few alchemists who have, try a combination of sugar water, cellulose, and a good dose of a multivitamin if you would like your plants to be healthy in those dark winter months.” He laughed to himself and snatched his staff up as he walked off towards the woods.

Berenice looked at Charlie quizzically. “What does any of that mean, Car-lee?”

She snorted at his retreating back, “Yeah- well, I already knew that!” Then added, “And her name is Berenice!”

Then waited until he was well out of earshot, she whispered to Berenice, “The bastard knows how to alchemize photosynthesis. I’ve been begging my grandpa for years to teach me.”

”Do you think he was telling the truth? About my creator maybe still being alive. About…” She gulped down her thoughts for a second, and shook her head and retrieved her own fish, burying her face into it and eating in thoughtful silence.

Charlie went outside with a shrug, “Who knows, he’s weird. This entire scenario is weird. Might come up with some ideas after I eat.” With that said she built a fire, lighting it with the flint and steel in her backpack roasting the gutted fish over the fire.

A pair of new and terribly strange friends falling into their own thoughts, with an even stranger man at the edge of the woods with his own agenda.

---

Miyamoto Musashi, now going by the codename Kensei, had traveled far and wide to vanquish the various yokai and oni that have plagued the island of Japan for far too long. One such journey lead Kensei to the Satsuma Province on the island of Kyushu. On his way to Kagoshima, Kensei stumbled upon a small cottage nestled in the mountain pass into this region. A beautiful, young woman, maybe a little too unnaturally beautiful, was accustomed to offer lodging for travelers to rest their sore limbs from a long day’s travel. When this woman approached Kensei, he immediately sensed an evil aura surrounding her, just like a cloud of miasma. If any normal person knew of this, he would have fled in terror long ago. However, Kensei was no normal man. His mission was to eradicate all evil that he came upon. Therefore, he could not turn back.

After he had accepted the woman’s hospitality, she led Kensei into her abode. He took a seat on the floor beside a small wooden table. The woman poured out a cup of tea for Kensei, although he politely declined, since he was unsure whether it had been laced with some sort of poison. The woman then began to play the biwa, a short-necked fretted lute. While she was occupied with her instrument, Kensei drew the Kusanagi, the blade bestowed upon him by Amaterasu, and slashed horizontally at the woman, felling her in one swift blow. When he approached to examine the corpse, Kensei discovered that a dead giant spider remained where the woman had fell. It was a jorōgumo, an arachnid yokai who tried to seduce young men before devouring them.

When the jorōgumo had been killed, the illusion that concealed the true form of the cottage was broken. Cobwebs covered almost the entire surface of the internal of the abode, while the skeletons of the jorōgumo’s previous victims were scattered across the floor. Content with his victory, Kensei turned to leave the cottage behind, but he failed to notice a webline wrapped around his leg. An abrupt tug on the silk robe pulled Kensei to the ground and yanked him through a small hole at the rear of the house. Since he was taken off guard from the suddenness of this trick, Kensei lost his grip on the Kusanagi, which he dropped as he was pulled through the hole. Once through, he found himself in a dark, dank cave that was also masked by cobwebs, much like the house had been.

Before Kensei stood a second jorōgumo, although this one was much larger than the first. The jorōgumo that Kensei had already slain was about the size of a large canine. This jorōgumo, on the other hand, could have been compared to an elephant in size, much like the giant arachnid Shelob from the Lord of the Rings books. The webline that had pulled Kensei into the cave were in the claws of its forelimbs.

“Your reputation proceeds you, Kensei.” The giant spider taunted the samurai whom she had snared in her webs. “I shall have the honor of killing the one called the Demon’s Bane.”

The giant jorōgumo continued to pull Kensei towards herself. She believed that Kensei was a sitting duck because he had been separated from his divine blade. However, like many yokai and oni before her, she would learn that she was sorely mistaken. While the jorōgumo continued to drag Kensei to what she thought was his imminent death, the stoic samurai focused his thoughts on the divine blade, Kusanagi. As the chosen of the gods, he had a special link with this sword. And through his willpower alone, the sword mysteriously slid its way from where Kensei had dropped it in the cottage into the cave and into his outstretched hand.

Terror and panic filled the jorōgumo’s mind as it lurched forward to fell Kensei before he was prepared for her attack. However, Kensei was ready for this assault, as he rolled to the side, dodging the giant spider’s attack. He then pulled himself to his feet and slammed his blade into the arachnid’s side like a hammer, spilling the sizzling green blood from her body. He continued launching furious blows with the Kusanagi against the jorōgumo until it too received the same fate as the first one.

Victorious for the second time, but now covered in green arachnid blood and spider silk, Kensei emerged from the cave. Before he left, Kensei made sure to set the cottage afire so as to rid this place of any future jorōgumo infestations. After he had cleansed himself of the grim of battle, Kensei continued on towards Kagoshima.

---

More than 370 years had passed since Kensei had supposedly died. Even though the modern era had come, the stoic samurai always remained vigilante, as one man could never eradicate the entirety of evil by himself. Those that he had not vanquished have learned to hide themselves away so as not to draw his attention. Evil will always remain, although it might take on new forms and shapes. Therefore, his task would never fully be done.

While Kensei was strolling through his secluded estate, he noticed from afar that a large sea creature had washed ashore. On further examination, the creature that had been beached was an oarfish. In Japan, the appearance of an oarfish, especially one as large as the one laying before Kensei right now, was considered to be an ill-omen: an earthquake would hit soon. Mere minutes later, Kensei experienced a massive earthquake. This earthquake was not just local, but somehow it was felt globally. However, even though every man, women, and animal felt the shockwaves of this event, no physical damage appeared, almost as if it had not happened. Scientists around the globe were puzzled at this occurrence, as the earthquake had not been picked up on any of their instruments, even though they themselves experienced it.

Kensei only took one thing from this event. That some great evil must have caused this massive earthquake. That the world still needed Kensei.

Icon stood stoically as the girl in the cell began ranting. Her words were slightly incoherent ramblings at first, perhaps due to a combination of nerves and surprise. She clearly knew that she was in trouble, and she was adamant that she had nothing to do with the bomb in Little Tokyo. He listened as she briefly touched on her past in New York, and that she had been caught in Dr. Diplodoc’s meta bombs which changed the lives of so many people. As he looked at the young girl, who appeared to be in her early to mid teens, he was reminded that no matter how hard he tried, he would not be able to save everybody.

As she spoke, he realized that she wasn’t just pleading her case to him. It wasn’t all about guilt or innocence for her, at least not at this moment. She was looking for guidance. She claimed that she wasn’t able to sleep, yet never got tired, and was unable to feel pain. She seemed to want to get involved in the superhero game, and seemed to be asking him for help in attaining that goal. However, he wasn’t sure if he was the right choice to mentor her. She couldn’t be more than fourteen or fifteen, and what kind of hero would intentionally put a kid in harm’s way?

As she went on about her innocence and how she had been trying to convince the detectives that she had nothing to do with the bombing, and even gave a brief description of those responsible, Icon believed her. He listened to her heartbeat and her breathing, and although her heart rate was elevated, most likely from the stress of the situation, Icon could not hear the fluctuations that one could expect to detect if she were lying.

“Look, I’m not sure what I can do for you. But when you get out, go to The Wayward Center on Paris Avenue.” Icon told her. “Talk to Alice, tell her that I sent you. She’ll be able to help you, and if you need me, she’ll know how to contact me.” Icon started to turn to leave the young woman, but he turned back and met her gaze.

“I wish I could do more for you now, but between the Hounds of Humanity and the earthquake...” He trailed off slightly. “I have to go, but I’ll be in touch.” Icon said before taking his leave of the girl.

---

This night was full of complications . . .

After being taken to Ji’s apartment, Marie waited patiently to explain herself to the other twin. Having received mental updates from Holt the entire way, Marie was perfectly aware of her location despite having been blindfolded (Yeong, as Marie expected, failed to realize Holt’s true nature as a spiritual familiar, writing him off as a simple pet).

While the twins bickered, Ji subtly accusing Yeong of endangering them both, Yeong being defensive and a little high strung after all that had happened leading up to this point, Marie and Holt mentally discussed their plan for finding Ben. Despite the time that Ji had spent with Ben already, Marie doubted she could locate him before his departure from New York with the mystery magicians. Luckily, Holt had a plan.

The ring Marie had gifted Ben bore a mark that tied it to Holt. Though the ring’s original intent wasn’t to act as a tracking device, the inscribed spell could link Holt to Ben, and given that Ben had already used the ring once, Holt was fairly certain he knew where Ben was being kept, or at least had a vague sense of direction.

Once tensions had calmed and the twins had resolved to let Marie help, she explained to them the functions of the magic ring and how she could use it to find Ben. Both Ji and Yeong seemed weary of Marie and no doubt questioned her motives, but they saw no other choice.

Filing into Ji’s car, the twins sped away from her apartment and followed Marie and Holt, both airborne astride the White Witch’s broom so as to survey their surroundings and assess any hidden dangers once they had located Ben. After a long circle around New York, Holt had finally tuned in on Ben’s exact location. Soon, Marie and the twins were upon Ben and the unknown magicians.

Ben caught Marie’s scent just before she arrived, she being the first to make contact with Ben, Rune, and Otto. He looked forlorn and detached, but the familiar scent of Marie’s magic was well-received and seemed to perk him just slightly.

Rune and Otto looked up at the approaching woman and then looked at each other. They then stared at her as magical eurythmics danced across both minds as they were still a bit high. They knew instantly that she was a witch. She carried magic on her like a stink on a good cheese. Several of Rune’s wards popped within his robe and his glare turned downright cold. Infernal taint. Broker’s little helper. But he had promised Puck not to do anything, so they just kept their distance.

Ji and Yeong pulled up a few moments later, both jumping from inside the car and ready to fight if the need arose. Marie and Ben assured them that everything was fine, but the twins couldn’t help but stay alert.

Marie proceeded to ask Ben about the rogue Alpha, and, catching a few nasty glances from Yeong, tried to be sure that Ben was in no way involved.

Ben nodded his understanding then tried to recount what he could recall about his meeting with the Alpha, his mind remembered bits and pieces. Then he mentioned how Barron had found them and that all he knew for sure was what Rune and Otto had relayed to him, them being the ones that saved him from the Elder Vampire. The last thing he mentioned was the fact he wanted to help Rune and Otto so he didn’t owe them for helping him.

“You see.” Rune began “You screwed up. Majestically. You have likely caused the death of several vampires and other undead. But they were undead, and well, most undead are not very nice to begin with. But you, you are like, the clusterfuck of fuckups. You are the royal screwer of screwups. You might have unwittingly doomed the entire fucking world.”

“Literally made a deal with a Devil” Said Otto, solemnly, sipping a beer he procured from god knows where.

“And like kidnapping a young werewolf and giving him peyote is among the best things to do,” Ben mumbled loud enough for the pair to hear him.

Yeong growled and began yelling, her suspicions about Marie proven true.

Rune, in his eternal wisdom, spoke.

“If it was up to me. You would likely be dead by now. It is not that I particularly want to kill a young girl who is clearly confused. But you are a threat on all realms because of what you have done. And my king did task me to safeguard all his subjects in this realm. Some, I might add, are missing after your little stunt in New York.” Runes voice was stone cold sober, and the edge it held was nothing like he had exhibit before. Just as it seemed he might actually make good on it, he relaxed. “But I made a deal with Puck. I cannot kill you.”

“Grrrr….,” Ben placed himself instinctively between Rune’s icy glare and Marie, his neck hair bristling instinct. He barely managed to get the blanket over him as he felt a slight, subtle tremor through his figure, “I’m not in the mood for this or likely the right mental condition so I’m going to ask once: don’t threaten her.”

His eyes turned to Marie, just when he heard Rune speak.

“So you might as well start talking. And tell us why you are such a fuckup.”

Marie nodded, telling the group about her connection to the witch Gwyneth Owens, a version of herself that had been reborn under mysterious circumstances and whose memories she desperately needed to recover. She explained that the only one she knew that could help was Broker, and the only way he would help is if she did as he asked. She was frantic and becoming emotional, but something within her spoke and she retained control of herself, going into detail about Gwyneth’s belongings and how recovering them would piece together the memories she had lost after her death.

Marie expressed that she felt some remorse for her actions but made clear that her search meant everything to her, that finding the parts of herself she had lost to time was just that important.

After a moment or two, Ben spoke, “You didn’t have to help back at the museum as you got what you needed, but you did. So I don’t think you intended to cause harm, but the fact you did is something I won’t turn a blind eye to. You need my help to find those pieces you’re seeking.”

He let the words sink in before he continued, “I’m going to help you on one condition: you help fix your mess. Not just ignore it to do what you want or I swear, you’re on your own with your search. Prove to me you’re as good as I hope you are and not willing to watch the world burn for a selfish reason.”

Marie agreed to Ben’s demands, resolving to go with Ben and the magicians to Las Vegas to find an end to Broker’s eventual reign and hopefully continue to search for Gwyneth’s treasures, wherever they were hidden.

With all their arguing at an end, Ben scratched the back of his head, “Can I go home now? I got to sort some things out with Daniel and Lorrie, mainly how the hell I’m going to get to Las Vegas without Lorrie calling the police on me. I also need to think on things.”

He turned then received some contact information from Rune and made a request, “Hey, Ji wasn’t it? Can you take me to the Hudson Valley school building? I need some time to walk off my thoughts before I get home. I’ll call you all when I figure something out and meet you there soon.”

Marie had given the group her name before departing, trusting that they wouldn’t use it against her. She made her way back to the Hudson Valley Wyrd and used their door to The Red Devil to return to Lost Haven and get some rest, awaiting her call from Ben.

Similarly, Rune and Otto decided to stay somewhere for the night, knowing they would have to wait for Ben to sort out his affairs before they could leave for Vegas, much as it annoyed them.

The twins took Ben home, nagging him the whole way there but relaxing their grip once they realized that he was upset about something. At Ben’s request, they dropped him off a few blocks away from the manor to give him time to clear his thoughts. Afterwards, the pair returned to Ji’s apartment. Both needed to decide how much time they would need for this trip and whether or not to get a head start on the group so they could be there when Ben arrived.

Meanwhile, Ben would have to figure out the best way of getting to Vegas without his parents freaking out. Luckily enough, Ben was soon to meet the answer to all of his problems.

Ben started out of the window in the car, his hand supported his chin and let the vibrations rattle through him. For the length of the car drive he had been quiet and lost in his own thoughts over what he had learned. Depression pounded at his usually high resistance toward outside influence, but this was something else and seemed to rot him away at the core. It dealt with a situation he wasn’t ready to face right now or likely ever.

Slowly, he inhaled then exhaled as the car grinded to a stop with a squeakiness in its breaks. The sound was harsh enough to cause him to flinch and his eyes flipped to glare at front a moment before he began to push the door open. He slammed it shut in his wake while he edged out into the early morning darkness, the dawn still hours away, and toward home.

It wasn’t a long walk, but it was one he needed to clear his head.

Street lamps were the only source of light, illuminating the dark sidewalks within Hudson Valley and guided him home. By this time the full moon had faded below the horizon and no longer could affect him. Something he was rather grateful for because he was frightened if he shifted, he might’ve just run off and never stop. Last thing he wanted was another bunch of individuals trying to find him while he was just trying to run away from his problems.

In the darkness, all he could hear was the fleshy slap of his bare feet across the pavement. It followed an unhurried and steady pattern of dragging with each step, likely because he was drawing as much time as he could in order to straighten out his emotional toil within. Lost in thought, Ben didn’t seem to notice he was being followed until he caught the human groan of someone being nailed in the gut upon colliding with a dumpster somewhere behind the school he went to. Mentally he growled, not in the mood to deal with more bullshit, and turned about to face the culprits. Two young adults, about three or fours older than him, with clearly visible tattoos upon their right shoulders.

They were apart of the Young Talents, a recent upstart group filled by meta humans. Both proud and arrogant, they were mostly drop outs thanks to the racist views some of the civilian populace held against them and loathed anything to do with politics. Considering Ben had been too distracted to cover his head with anything, the two likely easily identified him and felt it would up their reputation to beat the crap out of the DA’s kid.

“Well, lookie h’re. Boy seems t’be lost, ain’t he Brook?” The taller of the boys sneered, his accent ill educated and snobbish in tone. He was blond, the hair slicked back and well kept despite the thuggish profession he chose. His lanky figure had a ripped and ‘pierced’ by clothespins shirt, the latter likely to add to his ‘ruthless’ appearance.

His friend was short and a bit on the chunky side, with a simply jean and tank top. Both their eyes gleamed with something unpleasant in mind for Ben causing him to speak, “I have no patience for this, now just pretend you didn’t see me or you will regret it.”

Both chuckled before the taller boy turned with a smirk, “Nah, Ah thinks it will be youse that regrets it.”

Tap, tap, tap, tap… The unmistakeable sound of a pair of high heels walking on a hard surface echoed through the streets. From behind the thugs, a tall shadow-wreathed figure walked out into the street, looking over in the direction of both them… and her prey. There he was, the American werewolf whose lifeforce she had picked up whilst at the museum, the object of her fascination, and now… she had finally caught him, right where she wanted him, by himself. It would be much easier to turn him to her side in this situation. But first, there were the thugs in front of them both. Katarina smiled, her fangs glinting in the dim street lighting, and she chuckled softly to herself - they were overconfident, weren’t they? They weren’t human, however, that much she could tell by their biological signs - from what she had read in Merlin’s fantastical little library, they were best described as ‘metahumans’ - people who had been granted superhuman powers of some description, though quite what they could do was still a mystery to her. She cleared her throat. “Well, well, well, what do we have here? Surely you gentlemen could do better than waylaying a poor soul on the streets of this city? Or are you so baseborn that you resort to this scum and villainy to get by in the world?” Katarina snickered and strode towards them, Thirst clearly visible at her side. Her shadow threads flickered and tendrils of raw magic snaked their way into the surrounding area, whilst she drew her rapier and smiled. “I’ll give you this one golden opportunity to retreat from this confrontation. I’d take it if I were you… though I doubt you have the intelligence to understand why. Run along, boys!”

The Lanky one glanced over his shoulder, his lips frowned and eyes darted over the young woman that appeared seemingly out of nowhere. It was obvious her little quip on Ben’s behalf didn’t settled well with him. Casually he turned on a single heel toward her and scuffed at her snobbiness, finding it amusing she seemed to think herself better than the Young Talented crew, as he thumbed his nose a bit in an unbothered tick. Her brandished weapon failed to intimidate him because of its outdatedness in his mind as he commented, “Oi, who youse aimin’ t’poke wit that little toothpick you wavin’ bout? Youse got all the fancy tricks but how well can youse use ‘em?”

Without another word or warning, his hands balled into fists and smacked together. His muscles promptly bulged and grew into about four times their normal size as his height reached about twelve foot in a matter of moments. Compared to the petite vampire, he looked like Goliath about to crush David, the runt of the biblical stories.

“Let’s see what youse got, ‘itch,” He roared right before he rushed, his voice tossed an order behind, “Take care of the DA brat, but keep ‘im alive. We could use the ransom.”

Shorty, annoyed by his partner’s short fuse, turned to Ben and raised his arms disarmingly, “Nuthing personal kid, but the Young Talents need the cold cash.”

“I’m sure… but I’m not making it easy,” Ben growled, his body already started to shift and crack.

“Well then! Let us dance!”

The hulking brute was fast, but Katarina had seen his rush much earlier than he gave her credit for. Though he was fast by human standards, he was still nothing more than a big bag of flesh and blood, and he needed a damn good seeing-to. Katarina scoffed as she watched the brute charge towards her, before her eyes flashed bright red with magical energy as she surged forward with a horrifying scream and leapt high into the air. The brute’s charge was bound to be slow to stop, and also made him slower to react to sudden changes - Kat counted on this weakness and used it to her advantage as her leap brought her face-to-face with the brute’s ugly visage, which was about to get even uglier. Kat brought her shadow thread boot around with lightning speed and much of her strength, slamming her foot squarely into the side of the brute’s face, with her heel tearing through the skin and muscle and opening up a huge gash on the side of his face. Afterwards, Kat grabbed hold of one of the brute’s spikes and hurled herself on top of his neck, standing atop his broad shoulders, and then… she was in the perfect position, so long as she acted quickly. With another screech of effort, Katarina drove her elbow into the base of the brute’s head and spinal column, aiming to at least stun him and prompt him to fall to the floor, whereupon Katarina could then finish him off with spells.

As it turned out, that wasn’t quite working to plan. The brute roared in pain as her boot opened up the gash on his face, and he could feel the vampire standing on the back of his neck. Katarina’s second strike stunned the brute, but not to the extent that he couldn’t think - out of nowhere, he brought a hand around in an attempt to slap her off his back, which Katarina only just about avoided by ducking at the last minute, and he brought his charge to a slow standstill, by now shaking frantically to dislodge Kat from on his back. Katarina decided to oblige his request before he actually caught her with a blow, which would likely not end well for her… Leaping once more from her position, Katarina jumped high into the air, and prepared a spell that she knew would likely tip the scales into her favour. From the sky, a green cloud coalesced into a roiling mass, and from it came a huge two-bladed axe, swinging forth with an awful howl from the blade. It impacted the brute in the chest, a shower of crimson droplets bursting forth and showering the street in front of him with blood.

Unaware of Lanky’s predicament, Shorty’s eyes narrowed upon seeing Ben shift from human into werewolf. It took him off guard as he began to run his filthy mouth, “Oscar, look git. He’s a fucking wolf.”

Not waiting for an answer, he then turned to a mostly transformed Benjamin, “I’m gonna to skin and hang your furry ass on a wall sumwhere.”

His eyes glowed a dark purple as he narrowed his vision, his feet stepped to close the distance quickly. Meanwhile nearly done, the shift faster now than before, Benjamin’s blue eyes snapped toward the sound. His white teeth bared in a defensive growl before he rose to all fours and lunged. Immediately his figure hit the ground as if shoved down by some invisible force. A sudden, surprised yelp rose from his muzzle and echoed throughout the air.

“No! Don’t you dare touch him!” Katarina raged as she watched the werewolf impact squarely into some form of force field. He looked in pain, in dire need of assistance… as if the short fucker was trying to crush him with some kind of force field. “For this… you suffer. Die!” Katarina took hold of her rapier as she fell towards the ground after her leap, and then, a second after landing, she surged forwards, a growl of anger and a snarl on her lips marring her features as she raised Thirst to strike. She, too, slammed into the gravity field, but her strength and speed were such that she burst through whatever gravitic anomaly was slowing her down… and drove her rapier squarely through the short one’s chest. Another fountain of crimson erupted from the source of the strike, as the short one gave a strangled cry of pain. The short one sank to his knees, looking down at the sword protruding from his chest and then, to compound his situation, he felt two searing needles of pain on his neck… The vampire’s bite. Katarina drank deeply, slaking her thirst on the short one’s lifeblood, sucking greedily with an almost animalistic passion. “Yes… yes… give unto me…” Withdrawing her sword with a satisfying slice, she spat out the last globule of blood from her fill onto the ground. “Liebfraumilch, out of season. Do any of you Americans actually take care of your bodies?” The hulking brute, meanwhile, had been able to work the axe free from his chest, and roared into the sky, bringing Katarina back from her high. “Ah. Right. You.”

Ben whimpered as his figure rose, a few ribs cracked and bruised. Thankfully that it. The pressure released from his chest allowed him to inhale precious air and a sharp sting replaced the mass of muscle that was no longer collapsed. Already his regeneration was kicking in but it would take time for him to recover, time he didn’t have. Already his instinct was riled high enough to chase out the intruders from his territory and he was hell bent on doing that.

A low growl rumbled through his throat just moments before he bolted toward Lanky. Just having tossed away the axe, the thug turned his attention on Kat and seemed considering to toss the weapon right at her. He didn’t get much of a chance when Ben’s large maw leapt up and chomped on his wielding arm, his weight dangled from it. His paws kicked out at the ribs with surprising force that Kat could easily hear bones cracking on impact. Ben’s fangs dug deeper into the muscle causing more blood to surface. Lanky began to grip the wolf’s neck scuff, trying to rip the beast off him. His legs darted from one side of the sidewalk as he began to curse. Each time failing to rip the beast off his arm.

Katarina watched as the werewolf leapt onto the brute’s arm, tossing him about as his powerful jaws continued to clamp down on the thug’s arm that had attempted to take hold of the axe that Katarina had summoned to take a chunk out of his chest. Seeing that the werewolf clearly had had no problems with her killing previously, Katarina was now no longer hesitant to use lethal force - let the blood flow. Kat raised her arms into the air, channelling necromantic energy (though it was difficult to summon the quantity needed) and creating another large green cloud… only this began to blow high winds and crackle with barely-constrained lightning. A bolt shot out from the cloud and struck the brute in the back, shocking almost every nerve ending in the giant’s body, and - unfortunately for Ben- anything attached to said brute. However, the main manifestation of the spell began to unfold, a swirling morass of necrotic energy and dusts began to coalesce at the bottom of the cloud, quickly forming into a funnel, out of which one could see the gnashing and snapping shapes of human skulls as the funnel began to lower towards the ground, growing larger and larger as it did so. Katarina continued to channel energy towards the spell as it grew in size and strength, the high winds whipping through her hair and shadow thread clothing whilst around, windows and doors began to shake and rattle in their settings.

Ben had smelt a negative and dark scent of magic, but inexperience caught with him. The electrical energy struck and erupted within the werewolf as he howled in pain. His cry rang through the skies before he was tossed from the brute in someone’s yard. He hit the dirt hard, his muscles twitching uncontrollably, and burnt hair filled his nostrils from where the magic struck. His throat whimpered in pain and panic, his nerves unable to reply to his instinctual need to flee. Gradually, his world went black against his will.

Kat shouted to the werewolf, “Get out of there! Get over here!”

The reason why became all too apparent. Despite the giant’s stature, the storm began to drag him ever so slowly towards the funnel. To Katarina’s horror, however, the bolt of lightning had knocked the werewolf out cold - he was beginning to change back into his human form, and he was in imminent danger of being sucked into the funnel. Katarina instinctively stopped channeling any more energy into the spell and dashed over to the prone form of the werewolf on the ground, avoiding the stunned flailing of the giant in front of her. Katarina grimaced as she lifted the werewolf from his repose, running as quickly as she could away from both the giant and the funnel… which was dangerously close to the brute’s back. Katarina took cover behind a stairway to a porch on the street and looked back, just as the giant was dragged into the funnel. He screamed and howled and cried out in agony as hundreds of spectral skulls materialised around him, tearing chunks of bloody flesh from his body with their teeth, ripping through flesh, muscle, bone and blood vessels. Katarina looked away and back down to the werewolf, whose transformation back to human was beginning to really show. She shook her head and tried to ignore the screams… the horrible screams. Skullstorm was not a pleasant spell.

They finally died down, as the giant was reduced to little more than a pile of bloodied charnel and giblets. Katarina looked at the werewolf, cradled as he was in her arms. “Are you… are you alright?”

Katarina was rewarded with the rise and fall of the now human teenager’s chest. Through his hair was a bit singed from the experience, he was otherwise unharmed and breathing steadily. After several moments, his eyes crunched as he started to stir. His torso started to pull upright only to have the shift in position hit him with a rush of vertigo and immediately his body began to slip back into its former position. His eyes widened in surprise at the suddenness causing him to lift his head up to look at the woman above him.

“What hit me? Considering I feel like someone just fried my insides, I’m going to say not likely. Who are you and besides the pieces I can put together, what happened?”

“I think… the short one had some kind of force field, it looked like it was crushing you, he was probably going to try to kill you whilst I was distracted with the brutish fiend.” Katarina gently lowered the male down on to the ground now that he was fully transformed back into a human - and what a human. He looked young - perhaps no older than Katarina herself when she was first vampirised - and he had a very pleasing physique... Katarina’s eyes wandered absent-mindedly over the man’s torso, over his arms, his legs… he was quite the specimen. Focusing her attention away from the rest of him and onto his face, Katarina sat down on the concrete pavement, a wave of weariness now washing over her following her strenuous exertions during the brief fight. Necromantic energy was hard to come by in this city, and gathering together enough energy to manifest her spells had taken an awful lot out of her. Kat sighed heavily, looking up at the night sky, her breath heavy in her chest. Even though she was undead, oxygenation nevertheless improved her ability to recover from weariness such as powerful magic, and besides… it just felt natural to do. She didn’t overtly need to breathe like mortals, but she liked the feeling of euphoria that oxygen often gave her. Like a drug.

“My name… is Katarina. Katarina von Rysech. If you want to call me something short, call me Katrin or just Kat. You were at the museum a couple of days ago, right? I was there too - but I was sleeping. They had my coffin as an exhibit of Renaissance construction in Eastern Europe, and I suppose they didn’t know that I was inside. I felt your lifeforce, I could see you, even though I was yet to fully awaken… and then afterwards, I wanted to see what made you tick. Who you were, what kind of being you were.” Katarina blinked several times, trying to avoid the rising feeling of incredible awkwardness she was feeling. “I, er… I guess you fascinated me. I have never met your kind before, especially not in Europe, you know? In Germany, we didn’t have your kind, we, we uh... didn’t have anything like you, so, I... I was kind of interested in seeing you in the flesh, right?” This man… he was different than other humans. Something about him had struck home, something… alluring to her? Surely not? True, he wasn’t fully human, but he had a human form, he was… he was human enough for it to matter. And that human form was breathtaking, for sure.

“How do you feel?”

“Like I got wrecked and left to put myself together,” Benjamin, choosing to overlook the sense of awestruck the girl his age admitted. Mostly because he wasn’t sure how to feel about. One half of him felt uncomfortable because it reminded him how some individuals idolized Daniel and he wanted nothing in common with that man. The other half enjoyed the attention a lot, puffing up his pride and confidence to an all time high compared to the recent couple of days. Digesting the information for several moments, Benjamin began to realized he wasn’t covered very well as his eyes darted to where he was and noticed the shredded remains of Otto’s borrowed outfit.

He groaned in exhaustion, his hands pressed into his closed eyelids to drive away the frustration within his chest. The teen wolf inhaled deeply then exhaled before he spoke again, “Alright, so let me take a wild guess: you’re really old museum piece who recalls me and escaped, then I assume tracked me down. From your words and considering I recall only bits and pieces of things, I must’ve transformed earlier. The memories are still hazy but getting clearer gradually.”

Benjamin paused as his nose flickered and he narrowed his eyes, his head instinctively leaned into her neck. He took a deep whiff, “You smell pretty good-shit… this werewolf instinct is becoming a pain in my ass.”

“Was… Was machst du? What are you doing?” Katarina recoiled slightly, and then gave a soft smile. “I mean, I did put perfume on today, but… wait, is that my necromantic power you can smell?” She gasped, drawing back in amazement, her mouth open slightly in surprise. “Gott uber alles, it’s true. You can track magic down by scent… God, what an amazing power to have.” Kat, had she had a heartbeat, would likely have skipped a few upon the realisation of this revelation. So the man could track things down with magic? Could he track down her lost items? Could he be the key to her restoration, to the beginning of a new age for her? Even Franz Siegfried did not represent such an opportunity to her, and he was her closest confidant and advisor during her reign. If he still lived, Katarina would do well to seek his company out, that was for certain.

“Hey, I’m not… Ich bin nicht so alt!” Katarina pouted at him.

“If it helps,” Benjamin pointed out, assuming she was insulted by his statement even though he didn’t know a bit of German and her pouting face, “you look better than most girls at my school for your age. They likely would kill for your secrets.”

Katarina laughed and brushed her hair away from her face, shaking her head. “Mmm, they try looking this good at five hundred, ja? As for how I keep myself, oh, it’s so easy. Trust me, it’s all about the diet. Sadly, if I shared my secret with them, I’d have to kill them.” She grinned, inadvertently flashing her fangs to the full to the man… he was probably no stranger to vampires, given his condition of lycanthropy - Katarina knew of the strife between vampire and werewolf, though she personally had never encountered hostility with one of his kind… and this man was most definitely bucking the trend. “If you want, or you feel a little exposed, I can give you some temporary clothing… similar to this.” She tugged at the collar of the short dress that she wore from shadow, which was still just as sturdy as before, despite her magic exhaustion, and several tendrils began reaching out in Ben’s direction, only for them to dissipate into the atmosphere. Katarina giggled as she watched them. “Don’t worry, they aren’t harmful… oh. I never caught your name, Herr werwolf. What is it?”

Benjamin jerked a bit when she revealed her teeth, the fangs drawing a sharp dislike from his instinct and oddly something about them made him tense around them. It seemed the fact she was a vampire had drawn his wolf into defensive mode after several bad encounters with Barron. For a moment, he paused to examine the reasons. A name flashed into his recollection: Barron Vanderbilt, an elder blood breed vampire. Benjamin blinked trying to understand how he knew that name or why it made the hairs on his neck rise on end.

His expression relaxed back into a slightly confused one when he asked her a question, “I rather not get arrested for public indecency tonight so yes please, but first one question: do you know an Elder Blood Breed Vampire named Barron Vanderbilt by chance? I seem to have some nasty sensation of distrust when it comes to that name and I honestly feel it’s got a good reason behind it.”

He held his breath to hear her answer, partly hoping she wasn’t.

Katarina was slightly taken aback by his recoiling away from her. She put a hand to her mouth and silently cursed herself for accidentally revealing her identity with her careless attitude… She could see him tense slightly, hear his heartbeat begin to quicken, his pheromones start to drift towards fight-or-flight. The hairs began to rise on his body - hm, this was bad news. She hoped that her carelessness hadn’t accidentally made her an enemy in his eyes, he seemed to have a dislike for vampires, something which was not altogether uncommon amongst werewolves… only he had been so easy-going beforehand. A ruse to draw her in? Or was it simply a case of him not knowing? He was young - he might not have realised whom she was… and then he asked her something which also took her back slightly. An odd question. Did she know a... Barron Vanderbilt? She dimly remembered reading something about a vampire of a similar name created by Vlad Tepes after an experiment gone wrong in some lab of his, but nothing actually concrete about the man. She’d heard something about a vampire running casinos and business ventures in some American city in the west of the country - exactly where it was she had no idea, for her knowledge of American geography could be described as abysmal at the very best - and she frowned, muttering in German as she thought. Finally, she shook her head. “No, I’ve never met this man. I’ve heard something of him, though? Something about him being made by Vlad Tepes? I don’t know, I have no idea about most of this planet’s history. I know it’s some time in the 21st century today, though…” She stopped for a moment. It really had been about four hundred years. “Mein Gott… vier hundert jahre seit mein sturz.” Looking back to the man,, she raised her eyebrows briefly and then sank back against the wall of the large building that they were next to, before, creating a primitive form of loincloth from shadow thread to garb him about his loins.

“I haven’t much idea how I knew the name myself. I’m still blacking out but I do remember someone saying that young werewolves are impressionable, especially on first encounters, and that it can carry over onto any individual of that race. If I had to guess, Mr. Vanderbilt might be the reason I’m edgy around vampires,” Ben admitted, thinking it was pretty obvious, and added,” “I’m sure that will change being around other vampires.”

At feeling the shadow swirl and cover his pelvic region, his head leaned up and glanced down. It wasn’t what he expected as most modern fashion had much more cloth causing him to raise an eyebrow at Katarina. Granted, he was impressed with the magic over all and how light it was. He thought a moment how to phrase his next few words over the fact it was too ‘little’ cover.

“Ummm, in this age, I’m afraid to say this is still less than acceptable for cover. Could you fashion a simple shirt and pants? By the way, my name’s Benjamin Reeves and I appreciate your help in whatever happened. I get the feeling you were helpful in… a fight?”

“I… see. Well met, Herr Reeves. Ah. Right, I will do what I can… I cannot promise anything, Herr Reeves… I am a vampire noblewoman, not a tailor...” Shirt and pants? What on earth is he talking about? Maybe a doublet and leggings would suffice… but surely anything that covers that area should have sufficed? Humans, so changeable in their standards. Katarina frowned and created a simple shirt-like structure that was more akin to a t-shirt than either a proper shirt or a doublet, which clung to his skin quite tightly - perhaps moreso than necessary, Katarina admitted to herself with an inwardly sly smile - and then she made a set of tight-hugging leggings which reached down to his ankles, both out of shadow thread. Smiling to herself, she sat back with a sigh and wiped at her forehead. “Right, I hope that should be sufficient… Gott verbietet I have to do any more, I think I might faint.”

“This could be me, but I’m getting the impression you like my shape an awful lot…” Benjamin teased, his lips curled into a cocky smirk then turned serious, “If I had known that, I wouldn’t have made the request. I’m not into making ladies faint after all. Too cliche. So…”

He once more relapsed into silence before another question rose up, “Do you have a place to stay? I assume not since you likely just broke out of the museum and came wandering all over New York to find me.”

Katarina’s throat dried as she tried to hide her increasing shyness from the more brazen and perhaps brash personality of Benjamin in front of her. She gave a half-laugh and looked away, slightly embarrassed that she’d once again been caught out. Still, it was obvious. And she respected him for calling her out on it, that was for sure. “You’re not into making ladies faint? With a physique like yours, sterben nicht... You might have a career in that direction, Herr Reeves.” Katarina shook her head with a grin and looked around. However, she faltered at his next question. “N-No. I don’t.” Truth be told, she hadn’t thought much of habitation. Admittedly, her first few days were at Merlin’s expense in her own portal-dimension-pocket-thing, but she hadn’t actually found a place to stay, to call her own, to relax. “I didn’t just break out and then immediately come to find you… I had to stop off at the library first, you know, find out who and what I was dealing with. But no… I don’t have a, uh… a place to stay. I don’t sleep, of course… but it is always nice to have somewhere to come back to. Your own sanctuary, a place you can go to get away from it all.” She remembered her Sanctum in the Tower… the Reservoir, the Chalice at her side as she perused through more magical tomes than you could shake a stick at, and then… then she began her own work. The Liber Necronomica.

They thought they were lost to time. And now, Katarina knew just the man to help her find everything she once owned. Perhaps the Red Countess ascendeth after all?

Benjamin sighed then thought for a moment, “Well, that’s not going to do for me. I might regret this later, but I got my own ‘sanctuary’ upstairs and enough room for about two others without being cramped. You might have to help me sneak in as explaining you to those I live with, it's going to be complicated. Daniel won’t care but Lorrie will be all over my case and trying to get dirt on you. I much rather avoid that really. What do you say?”

“Y-you’re willing to do this? For me?” Katarina’s eyes widened. “Thank you… thank you… That means a lot to me. And as for your parents, unless they can call upon powers of their own, I have my own ways of dealing with recalcitrant obstacles.” Katarina grinned and her eyes flashed bright red for a brief moment, but then she tempered her reaction, fearful that Ben might get the wrong impression. “Let’s just say I’m very good at persuading people to do as I say.”

“This I’m curious to see…” Benjamin chuckled softly, his tone held a hint of doubt but eagerness to see it. Feeling like he had laid on Kat’s lap far longer than he should’ve, his body started to rise upright and get to his feet. Dusting himself off, he was a bit surprised at the ‘shadow’ covering him slightly moving with him and having some solidness to it. He mumbled something about impressive then gestured for her to follow him back to his house.

Benjamin and Katarina walked for another half an hour before they arrived at Ben’s estate. The stone masonry gave it a more gothic appearance than most locate houses and wasn’t helped with its sharp architecture, for once making the boy painful aware how much it stuck out among Hudson Valley. Not wanting to draw out the unpleasantness, he began to walk to the glass front doors and raised his knuckles to rap sharply upon the frame to be let in. He didn’t exactly remember taking his house keys with him when he literally leapt out of his second story window into the pool.

The interior lights came on one by one as he could hear someone-likely Lorrie- scrambling about. A feminine figure gradually made her way toward the foyer and open the door.

“Who, in their fucking right mind, would be knocking this-,” Lorrie’s voice abruptly stopped when she spied Benjamin standing to one side on the steps. Immediately her sleek, dark grey eyes narrowed on her would be step son causing her lips to press tightly for a moment. After it passed, her tone became sharp and commanding, “What in the world are you doing out here Benjamin Ethan Reeves! Do you know what time it is? Past midnight. Do you know who could’ve seen you running around like some juvenile delinquent. Do you know the effects that would have on your fath-”

Before she could call Daniel father or get farther in her ranting at him, Benjamin coughed. He then tilted his head toward Kat’s direction. Lorrie glanced into the figure standing behind him and her eyes widened in surprise, clearly not expected a younger lady behind him. The tension in her figure gave Ben a slight and subtle pleasure to know he caught her off guard, her outburst making a scene in front of someone that could’ve been connected to someone important. Lorrie wasted little time trying to recover from her would be step son’s first move in their little chess game, her tone faked a motherly and apologetic tone toward Katarina, “I’m honestly sorry. I didn’t see you there. Come in both of you, we’ll call your parents and Benjamin and I will have a discussion over his behavior…”

As Lorrie turned to head inside, Ben looked at Kat, “Now you see what I wanted to avoid this… so after you.”

He gestured with his hand for her to go first.

Katarina seethed as she watched this ape, this… veritable harridan chastise Ben in such a manner. How dare she be angry with him instead of looking after his well-being, instead of making sure he was alright, he was healthy, fed and watered? It reminded Katarina of her own parents - the Graf and Grafin von Rysech never overly cared for her own welfare, and most often entrusted her to that old letch Revinskas… the things he must have dreamed of doing, they made Katarina shudder with disgust, which she quickly disguised as a shiver in front of the humans. Katarina could see what Benjamin was saying about his parents - more concerned about themselves than their progeny.

“Ben, you might not like what I’m about to do. If you want, I’d look away.” She shook her head and looked at the woman with a slight snarl - she was planning on playing the dutiful little companion, but her disgust was such that she felt like she needed to set things straight immediately. Instinctively, she looked directly into the woman’s eyes, and her own eyes glowed red, two dim beams of light streaming forth from her dead pupils into the woman’s… Katarina connected instantly with the woman’s mind, implanting her own thoughts and commands, smashing through whatever weak will the woman could muster up in response.

“Du wirst so etwas nicht machen. Du wirst uns hereinbringen. Du wirst nicht von diesem Ereignis sprechen. Du wirst uns nicht stören. Du wirst über dein Leben gehen, als wäre nichts passiert. Verstanden?” The woman slowly nodded, repeating after Katarina. “I will do no such thing. I will take you in. I will not speak of this event. I will not bother you. I will go about my life as if nothing happened. Verstanden.” Kat looked over at Ben, and winked. “Didn’t I tell you I could move aside even the stubbornest obstacle?”

Ben’ eyes tightened in order to try to decode what Katarina meant. His attention shifted to Lorrie whose head turned back to Kat and suddenly went slack, any sense of awareness gone from her figure. It was bizarre to see on a woman with an utter value on presentation just standing there like a mindless doll. When Kat winked at him, it began to slow click together what had happened and some sort of mind influence or control was in play here. For a moment, it made Ben uncomfortable. Not because he secretly cared for Lorrie, but he got the sense that if Katarina had the motivation to, she could easily abuse this power on him. There was a slight nagging that maybe she already did.

On a gut feeling, he inhaled a quick sniff. That familiar scent, close to Rune and Katarina herself, sparked into his memory causing him to relax. Through he didn’t have a clear memory, his instincts told him she had been kind enough not to use this ability on him while she spoke German earlier. This made him relax a bit through observing the aftermath was still uncomfortable and strange to him.

“Well, that is a useful trick. It give me an idea, mainly to make things easier for what I need later,” Ben said as he entered the house after Katarina, his hand gently shut the door behind him with a soft snap, “Think you can insert the idea and sense of need for a few days trip to Las Vegas, Nevada? I have some business there that I rather not become a missing child in order to accomplish it.”

As he stepped farther in, he then added, “I also don’t think you need to bother with Daniel, he won’t notice me coming in this late unlike Lorrie. To be honest, unless we encounter reporters or other media, I don’t exist to him. Something I prefer often enough.”

Katarina frowned. An odd request - Ben had made several of these odd requests, that was for sure, but she supposed he had his reasons. And her best chance to start making it in this new, modern world was to stick with him, and go along with him. She nodded after a brief moment of hesitation, and then looked back into Lorrie’s slackened face, ready for new instructions. “Wir müssen nach Las Vegas, Nevada gehen. Widersetzen Sie uns nicht. Fragen Sie uns nicht. Stellen Sie sicher, dass auch niemand anderes tut. Verstanden?” Lorrie once again nodded and repeated after her. “You need to go to Las Vegas, Nevada. I will not oppose it. I will not question it. I will ensure no others question it. Verstanden.” Katarina nodded. “Sie können jetzt gehen.” Lorrie sloped away, seemingly uninterested in anything else around her other than Katarina’s instructions. Hopefully they would last long enough for Katarina and Ben to leave for Vegas… Hopefully.

Kat walked over and leaned on a wall, glancing around at the house, whistling slightly in satisfaction. It wasn’t the Tower, but it was likely to have a lot more creature comforts, if the modern world was anything to go by.. “Nice place you and your family have. Whereabouts will you be putting me? In the basement so I can be an evil monster who spooks the children if they don’t go to bed early? Rawr.” Katarina growled mockingly and scratched at the air towards Ben. “Or do you have somewhere else in mind? Of course… I don’t sleep, so it doesn’t actually matter where you put me per se, just interested… that’s all. Some place I can indulge in Kaffee und Zigaretten… The only vices I allow myself nowadays.”

“Unless you like cliche horror movie themes, but I figured you were too classy for the basement. Through you’re going to have to explain what Kaffee und Zigaretten is as I don’t speak German,” Ben stated. His eyebrow raised in question, his face turned to Katarina and sized her up, “As for places, we have either the downstairs guest room or as I mentioned back at the school, my upstairs sanctuary. It’s private, got an extra shower and you won’t have to encounter Daniel or Lorrie until we’re ready to leave.”

He let her digest the information he gave before a loud growl rumbled through his stomach, causing him to casually avert his eyes sight and consider how to escape long enough to satisfy his hunger. With the multiple shifts, his metabolism had burned a lot of energy causing him to require much more than was normal. He also had a craving for raw meat as well, unsure if Emma had set anything out ahead of time or if he would have to defrost something.

“Movie? What’s a movie? You’re going to have to explain about as much to me as I will have to explain to you at this rate. As for your question… ah, my only vices nowadays, coffee and cigarettes. And if I can get it, chocolates - schokoladen in German. I keep forgetting you don’t know my language… I might have to restrict my use of the language around you, save you getting confused over what I’m saying or doing.” Katarina stretched, her joints cracking in several ways that joints… perhaps shouldn’t really crack. She rolled her head about, almost as if trying to loosen some tension in her neck, and then looked back at Ben. “Probably for the best of us both if I go upstairs with you - keeps me out of the way of your bösartig kleine schlampe... no, you don’t want to know what I just said. Besides, we can get to know each other better that way. You know…” Katarina gave a derisive chuckle. “Yes, get to know this random vampire who just appeared out of nowhere and now you took back to your place. It sounds so odd when you put it like that, right? Sounds… almost absurd, but then again, life is absurd. In wonderful ways.”

“You’re talking to a teenager who just pretty much discovered I’m a freak among the supernatural and have a very uncomfortable connection to what I believe are ghosts. I’m getting a little worn out over surprises popping up randomly. Personally, I’m expecting a giant, pink elephant to be sitting in my room right now at the rate my day is going,” Ben answered honestly. He lead the way toward the spiral stairs leading up to his lofty bedroom where he suspected it to be a complete mess from his transformation. Unless the Agency officially cleaned up the mess, he figured he would have to literally block the broken window in his room and still needed to satisfy his hunger.

Katarina started up the stairs, but quietly, so as not to disturb those who perhaps were sleeping in the house. Like Ben’s father, perhaps. “I’ll see if I can find these quarters of yours you’ve mentioned… I assume from that noise you’re getting something to eat? Ah, the advantages of a blood-based diet…” Katarina snickered and climbed the stairs.

“I’m going to see if I got any meat upstairs, first. Then I’m going to raid the kitchen down here but I’ll likely have to defrost it in the microwave. Besides, someone needs to show you what a movie is and keep you occupied.”

When they finally reached the room, he lead her from the loft through the gym and into the media room. It looked like every tech junkie’s dream with surround sound system, two forty two inch screens on one single wall and more. He gestured for Kat to follow him toward the couch and big screens where a small snack bar was stationed nearby making this room seem like a homey mini theater.

“Just take a seat and I’ll pop in a DVD you can watch while I get something to eat.”

When Kat sat down, the lights dimmed and suddenly the screens flickered on with moving pictures.

Katarina watched, agape, at the screens. They had pictures. Moving pictures! Was this magic? Had technology really progressed to the point where one could watch what might as well have been moving paintings on a screen? Maybe they could see what was going on on the other side of the world, perhaps. Ben had mentioned something called a DVD… and a microwave… a kitchen obviously she knew about, but in her day, kitchens were still mostly separate from the main living quarters, in their own building, although in some areas such as England or the stately homes of France and Italy, the kitchens were an addition to the main building instead of their own construction. It would certainly be an interesting time. Katarina got to her feet and walked over to a pile of small plastic boxes, which had pictures and names written on them. One of them struck her interest - one of these ‘DVDs’ with a strange red-clad man… called ‘Deadpool’ on the front of it. Frowning, Katarina opened it and saw the circular disc that, too, had the same picture on it. “Interessant…”

“If you want to watch that movie instead, hit this button and place the round disc into the tray completely flat. Then press the button again before making your way to the couch. The DVD is set that it will begin to play the movie almost immediately. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to grab something to eat,” Ben commented as he moved toward the nearest mini fridge to rummaged through for something to eat. There wasn’t much that he was carving as he originally suspected. He sighed, then grabbed a soda from the top counter before he popped the tab and set it on the table where Kat would likely sit. The brand was Dr. Brown’s soda and black cherry flavor too. He guessed she might enjoy the red color and strong cherry flavor.

“I’ll be right back. I think I smelled a steak thawing down stairs, there’s more soda in the mini fridge over here. Some snacks in the bar over there, just help yourself if you’re able to eat that sort of thing.”

“Mmm, will do. Thank you… again.” Katarina followed the instructions that Ben gave her, and marvelled as the DVD began to play its contents. She sat there, fascinated by the technology more than anything else, and then she got to her feet and rummaged through the snacks on offer. She took out a bag of what were called ‘potato chips’ and a bar of chocolate, and then went back to the seat, taking a sip of the drink that Ben had set in front of her. Recoiling in surprise and slight bewilderment as the fizzy beverage buzzed on her tongue and in her mouth, Katarina took in the taste and smell of the drink. Highly artificial, but very palatable. Modern food had been much improved since days of old. She knew that her consumption of mortal food would end up strengthening her thirst for blood, but she didn’t care. She was safe, with a handsome man all to herself, in the comfort of modern technology.

As far as she cared, nothing else really mattered at that moment.

About less than half an hour later, Ben had returned with about seven packages of various meats. It all ranged from skirt steak to bottom rounded roast, most of them heated in the microwave enough to thaw and completely raw. His nose twitched but the aroma wasn’t appealing to him compared to fresh meat causing his stomach to twist in reaction and already judge the priorly frozen meat before he had tried it. Mentally Ben made a note to start stocking his mini fridges with his own meat reserves in the future through that was bound to get costly.

Slamming the door shut behind him, he then moved toward the nearest table and dropped the hoard he had managed to find. He tore into the two skirt steaks first by ripping the thin plastic top and began to rip off chunks to satisfy the hunger. There was still hints of ice in the center but he bit back the chill sensation in his teeth and continued to devour it like a piece of jerky. He plopped beside Kat to watch the movie while he ate.

Katarina kept an eye on both the movie and Ben as she watched him devour his food hungrily. She had been munching on the snacks that Ben had provided for her, and now as he flung himself down on the couch, Katarina gently shifted over to lean slightly on him, watching the film intently. She sniffed at the air - it was heavy with pheromones, Ben’s cologne and… probably something else he wore, her own perfume and the smell of meat. So many scents, so much in the air. She leaned her head on his shoulder and smiled. “Thank you once again for your hospitality… So. What do you need to go to Las Vegas for?”

Benjamin paused in his eating, noticing the closeness of Katarina. Truthfully this was the closest he had ever been to the opposite gender, at least one that wasn’t a snobbish witch, and for a moment his mind went blank to the answer to her question. After it passed, he relaxed then debated on telling her. Seeing little harm in it, he decided to be mostly honest with her, “I owed two guys a favor, which they asked I help them with a job in Las Vegas. I hate owing people as I don’t like being dependent on others, so I figured I would return it by giving them some help in locating what they are looking for.”

He took another bite, his teeth tore into the beef and felt the cold blood dribble down his chin a bit. He lifted up to reach for a napkin to wipe it away the liquid before he shot and sank the crumbled paper into the wastebasket. Ben laid back into the arm as he then asked Kat a question of his own, “So, after you got out of the coffin what happened?”

“After the coffin… mmmh. Not my finest hour. There I am, in front of a whole load of gawping mortals who were looking at my coffin as the exhibit it was. I did some theatrics, and then some security guards ran over… guns drawn. Now, bearing in mind I’ve just woken from a 400 year nap, my thought processes were a bit murky. So when one of them went to open fire… well… I…” Katarina faltered and sighed, looking down at the ground. “I killed him with my bare hands. And then slaked my thirst… because that was my instinctive response. And then things went from the sublime to the ridiculous. There was this girl… no idea what her business was, but she… she had Excalibur. You know, the ancient famous British sword from the days of the Romans? She had the sword, it was right there… and I thought she was one of the Grail Knights. But no… just some girl who was the reincarnation of King Arthur, allegedly. And some magical sorceress-type, who of course called themselves Merlin.” Katarina took a drink of the soda. “And then after they showed up, they took me to this… pocket dimension thing which I didn’t completely work out how it worked, but it had a huge library.” Katarina smiled and nodded. “There I learned a lot about the modern world… and then I looked you up. American werewolves. And so… After that I decided to see if I could track you down, and the rest is history.”

“You killed someone?” Ben leaned back and absorbed the fact, his eyes glanced up at the ceiling as the words echoed in his attention. It seemed first times were crappy for everyone. He was lucky, he only went on a joy run through New York or shifted at the wrong time like in the museum. As far as he knew, he hadn’t killed anyone. The thought hit him as a memory, hazy and unfocused, jarred across his attention. A dead woman, a large Alpha wolf and the encouragement to devour human flesh. He shuddered realizing that despite his self control, even werewolves were able to take a life.

After the slight pause in the conversation, Ben spoke again, “I guess first times are shitty for everyone, uh?”

Katarina could smell his blood, and the blood of the meat that he was eating. She thirsted. She had been using much of her energy to conjure up her magic in the necromantically-weak areas of this city - she’d have to look into that later - and she needed to recharge. But she couldn’t simply go and find someone to feed upon… or feed upon him… could she?

As if reading her mind, Benjamin then asked the most daunting question he dared to, “Is feeding a regular thing for you? I mean do you need to?”

Katarina’s gaze fell to the floor. “Yes. If I don’t… then I die.” She looked over at Ben, a mournful expression marring her features. “I tried for decades in Neuhausen to free myself from this curse. All I could do was create a chalice that was ever-filled with blood… so I never had to feed on the common people. I lost the chalice during the Fall… So now I’m back to square one. All that time and effort wasted.”

“Alright, answer me a few questions: Does it have to be living blood? Any type or a specific one? Any requirements?”

Katarina looked back at the floor in front of her and sighed. “From my research, and this might only apply to my breed of vampire, but I don’t know… But it must be human or of human origin… and it must have come from a living or very recently deceased person. It must be iron-based.”

“Look, I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. I’m trying to figure this out,” Ben explained as he continued to puzzle the problem in his head, “How are you feeling right now? You have fought recently and anything else you can tell me?”

“Ben… You… You’ll know the answer I’m about to give.” Katarina looked back at him, and shook her head, before continuing. “That last fight… took a lot out of me. I need to feed. And soon.”

Ben fell into silence once more. His head turned to the video and watched the scene, the part where the character went through series of torture in order to active his mutant powers. At the moment, he found himself relating in a moral sense before he spoke, “As much as I hate Lorrie and Daniel, I can’t really allow you to feed on them… that only leaves one choice…”

Letting the words linger, he then turned to her, “Me. So, that’s settled and now my last few questions are related to how in the world do we do this and is there anything I need to know before we do?”

“B-but… you…” Katarina sighed and bared her fangs. “I haven’t fed on a living being in 400 years. I don’t even *remember* what happens. I do remember it getting quite heated though, so we should probably be prepared for anything. I also remember both parties enjoying it… quite… a lot...” She cocked her head to one side. “Shall we find out?”

Ben arched an eyebrow in question at her statement that both parties enjoyed it quite a lot. This time when she bared her fangs, he wasn’t fazed and managed to hide the shudder that ran up his flesh. It wasn’t anything against Kat, but a natural reaction to the primal fear that ran in his human veins. His head leaned upright as his hand scratched the back of his neck lightly in hesitation, “Alright, fair point as many people can’t even remember beyond a week. So heated and enjoyable… that sounds an awful lot like sex. There’s one issue, I’m not sure how my ‘wolf’ is going to react to this whole experience. I don’t think you want me shifting in the middle of feeding so...shit.”

He leaned his head back and pressed his palms to his eyes, rubbing them a bit to relieve the tension in his head, “Bad part, there’s no other choice is there. I really don’t want you to die or feeding on Daniel or Lorrie, the media aftermath would be a nightmare.”

Benjamin inhaled then raised his head back upright, “Alright, but if I turn then keep me in the room no matter what. I don’t really want to wake up naked in the middle of someone’s backyard later.”

“This will be as much an experience for me as it will be for you. No promises about how we end up, but I’ll do my best to keep things under control.” Katarina slowly approached Ben’s neck, before taking several deep breaths. After some deliberation, she finally took the plunge… and sank her fangs into his flesh.

Of course he had to go. He doesn't have time to take care of one stupid teenager when he saves the world on a weekly basis, dumbass. Nicky sighed as she waited for paperwork to be finalised. She had finally relented, after deflating following Icon's departure, and given the police her real name, but refusing to give any details beyond that and her age. She had no doubt they would force her to become a ward of the state, but she was hoping that this Weird Ward or whatever it was would be less...Did she even know what orphanages were like? Not really, but they weren't gonna find a foster family for her anyway.

As time ticked by, she began to realise exactly how screwed up her head was. She was staring at the clock, and she couldn't actually keep track of how many seconds had gone by between seconds. It was as if the entire concept of time was gone from her head, vanished along with her old life. God, stop being morbid.

She carefully marked down, on the little piece of paper and pencil stub they gave her, what time things were happening. By her own mental reckoning, interminable decades, or maybe just seconds, had passed between them telling her they were going to release her and them actually doing so, though it had in actuality been something like three hours. When they led her out, though, it was directly to a squad car, where the officer driving explained that, because of the late hour and her age, they couldn't just let her wander off, so she was being taken directly to the Center.

---

Hours of driving later, they pulled up to an old brownstone building, two stories tall with an iron-gated entry. There was a short, plump woman standing just behind the gate as they parked, and Nicky could see from the car that she had just been roused from bed, probably by a phone call. She idly wondered who had called in this visit from the station. Her hair was only in a loose bun, and she held a robe tight around her despite the warm summer night's air. She smiled at the officer as the woman walked Nicky up to the gate.

“Sorry we're coming here so late, Alice, but this is definitely in your field, not ours.” The blonde grinned sheepishly and winced at the cavernous yawn the older woman had as her first response, but calmed as she waved her hand in a dismissing motion.

“No...ah, excuse me. No, it's alright, Patricia, I understand. Let's see what we've got, hmm?” Alice swung the gate open to admit them, but the officer shook hr head and held out a slim manilla envelope.

“Sorry, can't stay. The whole city's going nuts the past few days. I'll stop by for tea some time this week if I can manage it, okay?”

“Absolutely, dear!” Alice turned to Nicole. “So. You're probably wondering why here, and why I am being so friendly, judging by the look on your face. But as it is almost four, I think your questions and mine can wait until we get some breakfast in us, yes?”

Nicole followed the woman sullenly into the building. The front entrance was home-y, with several older sofas and a coffee table, but also felt slightly clinical. There were several telephones at a conference table in an adjoining room, and the whole place had a warm yellow paint on the walls. Several doors led away, but they turned up a hall and into a dining room that more resembled a mess hall, and a kitchen divided only by a partition wall.

Alice gestured to a seat and whisked herself into the kitchen, clearly more awake than she was just moments ago. Nicole sat down heavily and propped her head in her hands, elbows on the table. She wished she had something to listen to, but her bag has disappeared in the bombing and she hadn't felt like fighting with the police to try and find it. Alice glanced at her over the divider and started in with the inquisition.

“So, young lady, what brings you to the Wayward Center?”

Nicole narrowed her eyes, but she couldn't really hear any condescension in the woman's voice. “Stupid police who can't tell a Chinese bomber from a teenager tangled up in a bike rack.”

Alice smiled at her, brown hair somehow now put into a neat ponytail. “I'm sure they were just investigating all the possibilities, but that's not what I was referring to.”

“Yeah? Okay, so I'm homeless.” Nicky was not liking where this was going.

“Oh, dear, I knew that already, without even opening the envelope. But they only bring metahumans here.”

God damn it, everyone and their dog already knows! Nicole scowled. “I don't wanna talk about it.”

The woman nodded, like she had already seen that coming, and went back to her cooking. There was the sound of eggs being cracked. Nicole could see the envelope sitting on the table not five feet from her. She was almost curious enough to investigate, but she felt like this was some sort of stupid test, and if this whole place was full of metahumans, then this Alice lady would be really powerful to keep them in line. Instead, she listened as the woman started talking, this time describing the place.

Apparently, the second floor was all bedrooms, including the one she'd be assigned to. There was a small garden out back for relaxation and food, and the first floor held the conference room she first saw, two class rooms, a sort of doctor's office, and several offices for running the place. The basement held their storage and also a practise room where people who didn't know how their powers might work could explore them. Nicky perked up at the mention of the practise room, almost without realising it.

“Ah,” said the motherly woman, coming around the corner with two plates, sliding one if front of her. “So you don't know what you can do, either. That's no issue, we'll figure it out together.”

“No, it's not-” The teenager froze as she looked at the plate. A perfect omelette, with green onions and diced tomato over the top, exactly how her mother used to make them.

”Nicole, come downstairs,” her mother's voice drifted down from the lower floor of the duplex. “Breakfast is up, girl, and I'll not have you lazing about all day!” Nicky moved her short limbs underneath her bed, moving as fast as her ten year old body would allow. She would not miss out on Saturday breakfast! She tossed off her pajamas and slid into a little summer dress from her closet hurriedly, then nearly flew down the rickety stairs and slid into her seat at the table almost as soon as the plate was in front of her spot. Her siblings were quick to follow. They all knew that today was the free day at the zoo, and while Dad couldn't come because of work, Mom had promised for a month now that they could go.

“Hey, come on, it's okay. Come back now.” Alice's voice was in a gentle whisper. Nicky came up out of her memory with the older woman's arms wrapped around her tightly. Tears ran freely down her cheeks, dripping off of her nose and on to the woman's robe. It was soft, and fluffy, and above all, smelled like a mom. Three months of grief and pain and anger came flooding back from wherever she had been holding it. She broke down, screaming and sobbing so hard she couldn't breathe, but since she didn't need to, it didn't stop. She could hear Alice say something to someone else in the room, but it was quick, and the woman immediately turned back to her newest ward. She was being rocked, but she couldn't be angry. Emotions ran through her like a river.

Chris marveled at the sight of the security guards and the police officers floating up towards the ceiling, as if gravity had no effect on them. He had never seen anything quite like it, and he’s has seen quite a few things, as far as the things one sees as a superhero. Even the drideresque heroine struggled to keep herself earthbound and eventually gave up (or so it seemed). With all the guards on the ceiling, it left everyone on the ground floor unprotected from Newton. Chris could call in his armor, but that would take time, something that they did not have right now.

“Are you now going to take me seriously, Mr. Arthur?” Newton asked Chris when he had turned to face him after he was through using his powers on the police, the security crew, and Arachne.

“If you think that your little show is going to scare me into helping you, you’re sorely mistaken.

Before Chris could utter any more quips, Newton slammed the butt of his gun against Chris’ forehead and knocked him off his feet with a low sideswiping kick. The fall, let along the blow to the face, temporarily dazed Chris as he rolled on the floor in pain. Chris immediately grasped his forehead as he tried to sit up.

“You might be all fancy and special inside your technology. But without it, you’re just a weak, useless man.” Newton taunted Chris, whose forehead was beginning to bleed.

“Chris!” Maya screamed as she ran as best as she could in heels towards her injured date. The illusion Aubrey (since the real one was on the ceiling trying to save the people stuck up there) reached out to hold Maya back, but she slipped through her fingers.

“I’m guessing this is your squeeze.” Newton told Chris when he saw the redhead hurrying towards them. The villain pulled out a spherical device, no larger than a baseball, and lobbed it up into the air in Maya’s general direction. As the ball began to fall towards the ground, two metallic cables uncoiled themselves from the devices interior. Newton had placed his toss just right that the ball fell right in front of Maya, with the cords wrapping around her arms. She tried to pull her arms out of the devices grip, but it would not release its grasp on her wrists.

“You have six hours to agree to my terms, Mr. Arthur.” Newton demanded. “Otherwise, I cannot promise her cute face won’t be bloodied up.”

Newton casually strolled over to Maya, since he had no fear of anyone in the room. He took hold of the device that bound Maya’s wrists together and used his gravity powers to levitate the two of them into the air all the way up to the roof. Over their heads, there was a glass skylight. With a few rounds of his glock, Newton shattered the glass, which provided an exit for his escape.

“How far out is my equipment?” Chris asked one of his technicians over his telecom while he was being attended by a medic.

“Three minutes, sir.”

“Good, because I’m going to fry that son of a bitch.”

Moments later, Arachne had descended from the roof on one of her weblines, saving one of the police officers who had fallen from the ceiling because Newton was no longer nearby to keep the officers and guards stuck on the ceiling. Arachne told Chris that she would go after Newton, while Chris should worry about the people still trapped on the ceiling. While Chris’ anger drove him to go after Newton, the time needed to get his armor on site would make it more expedient if Arachne went after Newton first while Chris handled the situation at the convention center. But once he was done there, he was going to unleash hell on that man who kidnapped Maya.

Location: Lost Haven University, Lost Haven
Time: 6:30

The room around David was moderately spacious, the walls surrounding him where white, one wall featured a set of large windows looking down from the second floor, a tv set to the local news was hanging from a corner, and a brown wooden table in the middle of it all. The table itself was covered in spread out notes, books, and a couple laptops. David had told Carmine that he needed help tracking down another lead, but the real reason, he had to learn more about his powers, and the last version of ‘him’.

As it was he had far too many questions, and the only ones with answers were dead, so he planned to pick over their leftovers the only way an archeologist knew how. But first he had to find said leftovers, and this was bound to be a long process, not something meant to be completed in an hour. So David had decided the time for a break was due and signaled it by stretching his arms outwards and yawning. “All work and no play makes Dave a dull guy.”

“The Shining?” Carmine said, “Is that what you’re referencing?”

“Nope, I’ve never seen that one.”

“That’s a shame, but I think there’s supposed to be a rerun tonight”

“How convenient.”

“This channel always shows ‘classics’.” Carmine said while he threw up air quotes, he changed the channel a moment later and he was right. We’re professionals, is it really okay if we’re so easily distracted? But the movie was interrupted a few minutes in by another broadcast.

“What the hell?” Carmine muttered out as he tried changing the channel, the tv flickered several times but it showed the same man talking each time. Carmine and David both settled in, whoever this was they’d gone through the trouble of hijacking the airwaves for something, and David felt that it was going to involve him somehow. And he was right, the Hounds of Humanity began to talk about their reason for being, their dissatisfaction with the world, and how they were leading a crusade against meta humans among other things. They want to wipe out everyone who isn’t human, they’re crazy. Surely they realize that here are metahumans who side with humans, no, who are human?

The casual mood that he and Carmine had adopted that night was long gone, and even though the broadcast had ended, an ominous feeling had invaded the room. David and Carmine were unable to make more headway on adding to their notes and decided to retire for the night.
________________________________________________________________

Location: Lost Haven, Maine
Time:7:27

The university’s library had begun closing down so David and Carmine decided to go their own ways for the night, except that David had nowhere else to go, so Carmine offered to lend him his couch for the night. It was a decently long drive, almost an hour now, the whole trip David had been giving serious thoughts to his own future, while the radio news and late night talk shows kept talking about the HoH. Not only were they still talking about the HoH’s announcement, but apparently they were no claiming responsibility for a few attacks. David felt a responsibility to attack these hounds, stop them somehow, but he wasn’t a cop or a psychic, he had no way of finding them, and he hoped the same went for them.

Although his mind wouldn’t be one of the ones affected by the nexus’s arrival, and with no powers outside of his other body, he would have had no idea anything happened. But the Earth itself was affected, and via their connection, so was he. Multiple visions flashed in his head, some he thought were memories, some were just weird and out of place. Trying to latch onto something to avoid the overload of images he reached out, and felt something. In an instant his senses were overwhelmed, instead of the inside of a car he found himself surrounded by a heavy fog, when he looked to gaze down at his own hands David saw his body had changed. It seems at some point he had called for his powered body.

“When did I?” David whispered to himself in confusion, looking around, he thought he could make out the silhouette of someone standing in the distance, the fog made it hard to determine any discernible features.

“Who are you?” David yelled out. The head looked as if it moved slightly to face him, and then it looked away again. How rude.
__________________________________________________________

Location: Still Lost Haven, Maine
Time: Still 7:27

“Oh shit?” Carmine muttered as soon as he realized he was driving through an earthquake, or at least he thought he was. A low growling sounded from somewhere underneath him, he almost assumed it was part of the earthquake if it didn’t sound so guttural, so organic. He had intended to pull over his car so he and David could take cover in a building, but something forced the ground underneath them to become unstable.

What carmine didn’t know is that underneath him a group of massive worms had been tunneling for their masters, pre digging tunnels in preparation for an invasion of the surface. However, psychic waves emanated from the Psionic Nexus unsettled and even confused some of these creatures, causing some of them to dig even further to the surface, where their psychic induced spasms induced a slight breach in the earth. After a few seconds, their psychic inflicted confusion passed and the worms retreated deeper into their own lairs in fear. Unfortunately for Carmine he was one of the few to be around these small breaches, and fell into the tunnel after the worms.

Having already fallen Carmine knew he couldn’t escape via the door anymore, so he cursed out loud, honked his horn, desperately hoping someone could save him somehow, but a few seconds later the Earth had swallowed him completely, and his car started tumbling down as if falling down a tunnel. A few moments later he passed out due to the multiple collisions the car took, along with being tossed and turned like clothes in a washing machine. Both his and David’s bodies jerked wildly in their seat belts as their car fell, the varying sounds of clanging metal as the car slid down the tunnel.

I have no clue why I’m doing this? Maybe a little part of my conscience just could not stand allowing someone else get hurt because of my negative opinion of Christopher Arthur (and that’s putting it nicely). Although Maya was making her way onto my ‘hate’ list, I’m supposed to be a superhero. I guess it would be kind of hypocritical if I were selective on whether I would save someone. At least that’s what I tell myself.

Spider-Man does make the whole traversing across a city way easier than it really is. Pacific Point does not have quite the skyline that New York City has. You obviously need some tall buildings that you can use as tether points; you cannot swing on empty air. Plus, my drideresque physique would also give me issues with ‘web swinging.’ While I have tried it before with my drider appearance and I can technically do it, I just don’t look that gracefully swinging in the air with a giant spider’s body attached to my waist. Therefore, I’m pretty much stuck with leaping from roof to roof or crawling on a webline that I had tethered onto both sides of the building if the distance is too far for me to jump to the other side.

At least I had one thing going for me: this Newton guy only has regular human speed and he also has to drag along a hostage, although he’s probably using his gravity control powers make that process a little bit easier on himself. Therefore, he could not out run me, unless he somehow shook me from his trail.

I had followed him for a block or so before he realized that I was hot on his trail. Newton had been using his gravity control powers to allow himself and his hostage to cross the gaps between the buildings without risking falling from the roof. However, instead of trying to outrun me, Newton stopped and turned to face me.

“Let the girl go and nobody gets hurt,” I demanded when I finally landed on the same roof where Newton had stopped. The man had a stern and serious expression on his face, or at least as far as I could from how much his mask covered his face. Like most supervillains, I knew that he probably would say no. You just never know when someone might save you from some bruises and surrender before a fight would break out.

“You do realize that I could send you flying off this planet into the cold vastness of space,” Newton threatened. “But that would be too easy.”

Suddenly, I felt as if someone had piled weights that would become progressively heavier onto my entire body. I struggled to keep myself standing, but the strain of this invisible weight caused my legs to give out, slamming me down to the floor of the roof. I tried to at least keep my human-half off the ground by using my arms to hold me up, almost as if I were doing a push-up. Despite my best efforts, I could not even do this simple task. Newton must be using the reverse of his powers: instead of removing gravity, he’s increasing it.

“The irony that you probably could bench press a passenger bus with ease, yet gravity itself has immobilized you.” Newton walked over to me and crotched down beside me. He reached out and grasped the back of my mask. Since I could not lift up my arms to hold down my mask, I tried to bite down onto the material with my teeth. But he was still able to yank off my mask, pulling off the band that was holding my ponytail together. Some of my blonde hair fortunately fell in front of my face, shrouding it from both Newton and Maya. I’m not quite sure who I would rather hide my identity from: this supervillain or Chris’ girlfriend.

“Show me your face, blondie,” Newton threatened me, placing the barrel of his glock to the back of my head. “I want to watch the light leave your eyes.”

I did the opposite. I tried to turn my head away and tilt it towards the floor of the roof to maximize how much of my long locks of blonde hair would cover my face. Am I going to die? How is this going to work, anyways? I have a healing factor that does its job quite well, but I’ve never lost any limbs before, let alone getting my brains blown out. Will I just bounce back from this or is this my one weakness? Even if I do survive, what effects will it have on me? Will my body be able to repair the damage?

My body began to shake out of fear. I don’t want to die. I know it is kind of cliché to say that young people sometimes believe that they are invincible when they’re really not, but in my case I would say it would not be too much of a stretch. I have a healing factor that keeps me healthy. I have superhuman strength, despite what my scrawny arms would make you believe. Even though being a superhero is a dangerous hobby, I guess I never considered dying before. I mean, where the hell is Athena? She usually bails me out of situations like these.

I then heard the click coming from Newton’s gun, signaling that he had turned off the safety. Still shaking, I closed my eyes, unsure how I could alter my fate. I just waited for the gun to go off. Those were some excruciating moments since I did not know when the bang would sound.

A crack of a firing gun resounded from behind me. I would have jumped when it went off, but Newton’s gravity control abilities stopped me from getting an inch off the ground. After the first round blasted, everything went silent. My eardrums must have burst and were in the process of healing themselves, since I could feel my vocal cords vibrate even though I could not hear myself scream.

When I pealed up my eyes, I discovered that I was still on the roof. I was obviously not dead. St. Peter hopefully would have greeted me otherwise. I could hear the faint noise of the nearby traffic. Guess my hearing was coming back. I also thought I was hearing a woman’s voice speaking, but it was so faint that I could not make out what she was saying. I then felt something poke my shoulder. When I turned my head to see what had poke me, I saw that something was holding up my mask in front of me.

“I believe this belongs to you.” I heard Maya’s familiar voice (or at least as familiar as it can be for just meeting Maya an hour or two ago) in my ears. What shocked me was, when I pulled my mask off whatever was holding it up from underneath, discovering that the tip of a large, red snake tail had been balancing the mask on its tip. After I made this realization, I traced the snake tail with my eyes back to its source, which was beneath Maya’s dress, where her human legs should have been. Although everything between her waist (I’m guessing here) to her neck appeared one-hundred percent human, I saw that her face did not look the same as it did a few moments ago.

The first thing I noticed were her pupils. Instead of being round, as they had been, they were slitted. Her ears were different, too, since they were almost leaf-shaped like the goblins in the Harry Potter movies, while their color tone matched the red scales on her snake tail. Finally, there were a patch of scales (still the same as those on her tail) that were located on the back of her cheeks, right under her ears.

“It is such a relief to meet another liminal.” Maya told me. As she talked, I could also tell that her tongue was also forked, just like a snake’s. However, when she got a better look at my face, her eyes immediately grew wide. “Wait, you’re that pornstar that hates Chris!”

I was still too dazed from seeing what Maya’s true form presumably looked like to quite register what she just said. I should not have been this shell-shocked by her appearance, since Chris’ sister looked similar to Maya. Minus the ears, of course. I guess I was just not expecting her actually to be a snake-person. After a moment to take in all of this new information, I finally realized what Maya just called me.

“Wait. What did you just call me?” I grumbled while giving Maya a glare.

“Um…a liminal?” Maya muttered, unsure whether that was the answer I was expecting.

“No! Well, yes, you did call me that, too. But you also called me a pornstar!”

“I mean, you do have huge boobs,” Maya defended herself. However, while she was looking at me, she squinted her eyes, placed her thumb and index finger on her chin, and tilted her head to one side. “Although, now that I’ve seen you again, they do seem significantly smaller.”

“That still does not make me a pornstar,” I told Maya, while I was throwing my hair back into a ponytail, as it was before Newton pulled my mask off. It only took me a moment to realize that, by reaching my arms back to tie my hair into a ponytail, I was inadvertently jutting my chest out, making it look more prominent. I quickly fixed my hair and then immediately threw my arms over my chest.

“But don’t you work for Viera or whatever it’s called? Don’t they make you pose nude?”

“They don’t require it.”

“But you did do it, right?”

“It wasn’t really my choice.”

“I thought you just said it wasn’t required?”

“It’s…complicated.” I sighed as I spoke to her. “Like, shapeshifter and ‘you cannot clear this up without outing yourself as a superhero’ complicated.”

I then took my mask and pulled it down over my face, with my ponytail sliding through a slit in the back of it.

“Before I get you back to the charity event, what’s a liminal?”

“Woah.” Maya spoke, not really answering my question. “How did you change your voice?”

“Um…I’m not really sure. Something to do with this mask. Anyways, liminals?”

“You know,” Maya stated to me, although I still gave her an expression showing that I had no idea what she was talking about. “Someone like you and me. A humanlike species that can interbred with humans.”

“Wait, you’re not human?”

“No, I’m a Nagi.” Maya tried to explain to me, although she interjected some more when she still saw a confused expression on my face. “A snake-person species. But you asked that as if you’re not a liminal.”

“I guess I’m technically a metahuman.” Now, it was my turn to be on the receiving side of a puzzled look. “Basically, it is a human with special powers. I just have the misfortune to possess an ability that gives me this appearance.”

I then gestured at the spider-half of my body.

“But have you told Chris about your…um…species?”

“Please don’t tell him,” Maya begged me. Her leaf-shaped ears began to droop, while tears began to form in her eyes. “He really means a lot to me. I, well, love him. But ever since I found out about one of his exes turned out to be an android, I didn’t know how to break it to him. But I don’t want him to learn about it from anyone except for me. Will you promise to keep this secret?”

“Sure,” I told her. I was not sure whether I made that promise as a favor for Maya or out of spite for Chris. I kind of find it humorous that Chris is unknowingly banging a snake-girl. However, at the same time, I understand what she is feeling. I know how much it hurts to lie to the people you love. It breaks my heart every time I must lie about something to hide my metahuman status from my parents. I just hope I’m doing this more out of sympathy of Maya’s situation rather than my hatred of Chris.

“Thank you!” Maya rushed forward and wrapped her arms around me in an embrace.

“Don’t get too sentimental on me.” I patted her on the back while I tried to pull myself out of her grip. “We better get you back to the convention center. It would be a really awkward conversation if Chris would happen to fly in on us while you still look like that.”

Maya nodded in agreement. She immediately reached up and rubbed her the ruby gem on her necklace, which began to glow. After this happened, all of her serpentine attributes dissolved away, leaving Maya with an entirely human-only appearance.

“Please tell me you have seen magic before.” Maya asked me after her transformation concluded.

“Unfortunately yes. That would have to be a story for next time. It also is complicated.

---

The exact moment when Odette’s eyes shut her mind and soul were suddenly elsewhere. She felt no real direction, nor had a sense of time. It all felt somewhat familiar, similar to when she tethered her soul to Bach’s. She opened her eyes, ultimately not feeling like herself.

Darkness surrounded her, blue hair floating about her as if she were in water. She flexed her fingers, then her toes. Unable to see anything at that moment, she tried to speak but her voice was muted. Odette then tried to breathe and while it felt like inhaling thick fog, it calmed her.

Amidst the clamouring darkness and a sea of nothing, a gust of wind pushed Odette forward, seemingly into the nebulous void. Slowly the curtain was lifted with delicate hands, the same ones that nudged the dazed and weary Odette. Blinding light erupted from beyond the fog, giving way to a picturesque scene.

Odette stood on small, grassy knoll overlooking the foggy hills of the British Isles. Here in the countryside, mounds of earth dotted the landscape and seemed to flow like frozen waves of green, bare trees with stout constitutions rooting themselves at every minor peak. The crisp, salty air of the sea met with the refreshing odours of green pastures to form a most inviting scent.

Not far from her post, a small cottage, modestly accommodated with tall stalks of flowers and vines along with an assortment of other strange flora was just visible, a smokestack rising from a worn roof.

When Odette’s feet touched ground, immediately she felt the soft grass. The salty air smelt real as ever, the breeze raised the hair on the nape of her neck. She pursed her lips. Taking in the new surroundings, she spoke to herself, “Impressive.”

Upon reflex she tried to summon magic into the palm of her hand but nothing stirred. Wherever her mind was, it was barred access to the Arcane Stream. That troubled her a little, but she held faith that Bach would pull her out of this world. She walked forward toward the cottage, her shoulders straight and eyes wandering trying to guess where exactly this was supposed to be.

The pillar of smoke began to swirl in an ethereal wind, becoming thicker and darker with each passing moment. It moved as if alive, snaking its way through the air and turning towards Odette, carrying a presence within.

What have we here? a voice rang out over the valley, low but familiar. It had hints of an accent that couldn’t quite be placed.

Ah, it continued, the meddlesome wench who tried to steal my Sight. How interesting . . .

The voice trailed off, black smog slowly manifesting into a woman’s form. Raven hair flowed in the wind, thick and glossy though slightly unkempt, attached to a fair-skinned maiden with pale, rounded features, small freckles neatly dotting her skin. The woman was adorned in rich, scarlet garments and a floor-length black cloak. Her face was familiar and her figure doubly so. This was the witch whom Odette had seen in the oracle’s scrying pool, the one who bore the White Witch’s likeness. Here stood the witch, Gwyneth Owens, in all her splendor.



“You must be Gwyneth. My name is the Ambassador of the Fair Folk. You are quick to assume I stole, I was actually gifted your mysterious item by Hekate herself. I was hoping to meet you.” Odette replied smoothly, she dipped her head out of respect aptly ignoring being called a wench. If Gwenyth wasn’t putting forth a good first impression, Odette had no problem doing so. If she was lucky, it might inspire a little guilt for calling her a thief.

She locked her hands behind her back looking up at the witch, feeling her heart pace quicken a little. It was one thing to see Gwyneth's visage through the oracle’s pool but the resemblance to the White Witch was uncanny, from what she could remember of the young woman the last time they met. To her benefit Gwyneth’s outfit wasn’t nearly as tacky. She carried an air about her that was only earned after living a full life, admittedly she was quite beautiful.

She felt more at ease dealing with Gwyneth than she did Hekate. If the witch responded well enough to her presence here it could very well mean subverting the prophecy diplomatically. Preferably, at the very least. Gwyneth being an immortalized witch, she was still comparatively human with an ego to match, one Odette could easily stroke.

Gwyneth raised her brow and wore a faint grin, a quiet laugh passing her lips.

The Witch Mother has involved herself? Even more interesting . . . Gwyneth’s voice echoed throughout the land. Whatever illusion this was, she was clearly its source.

Moving closer, Gwyneth began to examine Odette, taking note of her strange attire, stunned by her title. This woman’s talent was obvious, and Gwyneth was quite interested in learning more.

Gwyneth bowed her head to Odette in a similar fashion.

My sincerest apologies for approaching you in such a manner. It is unbecoming of a lady to speak to her guests in such a way, and what a fine guest you are. Madame, you are of a fine sort, a rare creature indeed. Few have seen my treasures and fewer still have known their creator. That you know who I am speaks highly of you. Tell me, if you would, how come you to be here? You speak of a meeting with the Witch Mother yet you do not hold her spark. Be you a witch? If so, a strange witch you are.

Gwyneth felt something staining Odette’s soul, a mark not unlike those carried by her brothers and sisters in the Craft, a familiar mark that Gwyneth couldn’t place.

Odette used her warm, pink lipped smile, brightening her expression considerably, “Apology accepted. My meeting with Hekate is a bit of a tale that I am more than happy to share out here in these lovely fields or inside, assumingly, your quaint cottage. I am not a witch, I am a sorceress.” How cut off from the modern world was Gwyneth? What was she aware of and, most importantly, how could Odette use her ignorance to her advantage? As it were, her mention of Hekate got Gwyneth’s attention in a good way.

The way she spoke was an old way, and Gwyneth’s voice reverberating around her was disorientating.

Ah, I see, Gwyneth smiled warmly, You are bound to a faery helper, are you not? That is the mark I sense on your soul. I am happy to know that there are those who continue the ways of the Faery Doctors of my time, and you their ambassador? Tell me, how fares the Summer Court in their war with Hell? Do Oberon and Mab still reign supreme?

Gwyneth hardly left room for Odette to reply. She was excited to know the mysteries of the modern world, her awareness of mortal goings on severely stunted by her spirit’s imprisonment within her artifacts. Though she knew nothing of Odette or her motives, Gwyneth would allow them both time for idle chat before discovering Odette’s reason for meeting with her.

Awkward, she hasn’t had any new information for centuries... Odette thought, “Yes I am, I built a permanent portal as a coalition of myself and the many faery courts I have allied with. I was officially given the title then but had been wearing it unofficially quite some time before.”

Of course though, the witch would be starved for information from a new voice.

“Unfortunately, the Summer Court lost that war. King Oberon retreated back to his realms, while the King struggled with the weight of the loss Mab was stricken with relentless grief. The druids were destroyed by Roman Fire.” She bowed her head largely out of respect for those who came before. She felt nothing for their loss, her focus was forward. “May their spirits find peace.” She projected some empathy for the past.

She carried on, “This wedge between Mab and Oberon was the perfect opportunity for Titania to take advantage, a beautiful creature of great strength and foresight in the Summer Courts. Titania shared in their grief, she helped strengthen Oberon when Mab drew away. Mab went missing long before Titania was crowned Queen.” Odette said idly adjusting the cuffs on her sleeves while her eyes were on Gwyneth, reciting the history from memory. “Now a few centuries later, Queen Titania had fallen from providence her power waned considerably only to be renewed as of…” She thought counting the days. “A little over a week or so ago. She and I came to tentative alliance.”

Watching her, thoughtfully she added, “A lot of time has passed, humanity reached an unprecedented industrial age and leap in technology. Humans cannot regularly see the Fair Folk, nor do they as a whole believe in magic or the supernatural.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, do you have a sense of how much time has passed?”

Gwyneth frowned, slowly turning her head down and away. How could she describe this suspended state she’d put herself in? The sky grew dull in response to Gwyneth’s silent grief. She looked up at Odette thoughtfully.

Time passes not in this place. All that you see, she made a motion with her arm that gestured to the landscape around them, is but an illusion, a precious memory of simpler days. I do not experience any stretch of time here. When one of my possessions is moved or moves itself, I awaken briefly to note where I am being taken. When they come too near to one another, I send them apart. Memories of the days before my death are more numerous than those after. . .

Again Gwyneth fell into a quiet state, but a slow smile began to brighten the grey skies.

Your news saddens me, yet I am glad to hear it. However many seasons ago, I regarded the Faery Monarchs my allies and dear friends. It haunts me to know that so much has changed, that those whom I once trusted have been buried beneath mounds of mortal ignorance, but no longer must I toil to know their story. I have you to thank, Lady Ambassador. You have done me a great service in recounting this tale.

The scene around them seemed to liven up as Gwyneth spoke. The sun became more pronounced, the naked trees dotting the landscape bore thick foliage, some flowering, and the air smelled not of the sea, but of freshly baked bread and pastry from the cottage just beyond the hill.

Odette nodded, the change in their surroundings caught her eye when the sun shone brighter, the distinct smells of a bakery floating across the sea breeze. The illusion clearly being tied to Gwyneth directly. She imagined such a powerful illusion would have shifted in such a case. When she turned back to the witch, she replied. “You are most welcome, it is my pleasure. I am glad you mentioned your items, I would love to learn more about you and these possessions. I have also met briefly with your reincarnation.”

Gwyneth’s eyes lit up, her back straightening and full attention pointed at Odette. So far, she had only felt the smallest pull from her modern counterpart, but she knew that as her possessions were returned to her mortal form, that connection would grow stronger.

Have you? Tell me, what am I like in your time, by what name am I known?

Odette said, “I only know your reincarnation by her alias, the White Witch. She is explicitly tied to Puck, Mister Robin Goodfellow. Beyond that, not as much as I’d like to know.”

“The resemblance, may I say, is uncanny.”

Gwyneth scoffed.

White Witch? Pah, as naive in your time as I was in mine. I’m sure I think that I’m helping them, those mortal swine, but in good time I’ll learn that they can’t be trusted . . .

Gwyneth trailed off once again, caught in her mind, memories of her past failures manifesting as dark clouds looming over the horizon.

And I should have guessed one of the Pwca would rear their heads. No doubt she’s run into the Witch Father, He and I were well acquainted in my time, but to be under the employ of that meddlesome imp Puck . . . then again, perhaps his insights have been of use to me . . . Gwyneth drolled on before realizing that she was getting severely off track.

Turning her attention back to Odette, she added, Her visage and mine are not pale imitations, they are a reflection. Such was the nature of the spell that brought me into your time.

Odette nodded, understanding that point since her meeting with the oracle. Noting only to herself that Gwyneth had a particularly negative view on mortals. Similarly to some Fey. “I see. Puck has been running a rather successful business in modern times as it were. A particularly large portal network and tavern for mystical and supernatural patrons gather to have a drink. He doles out his prophecies to a few still. As far as I am aware.”

I likely owe him thanks for revealing certain truths to my modern incarnation . . . about whom you know a fair amount. How is it that you have come to know both versions of myself, and what business have you with me and my possessions?

Gwyneth’s tone wasn’t accusatory, but she was certainly suspicious. She postured herself to reflect her curiosity, all senses fully focused on Odette and her answers.

Odette inclined her head her hands clasping behind her back once again, knowing her answer to this would be of winning her trust to sit and talk inside that cottage. Odette knew Gwyneth was familiar with the Fae, while she was largely ignorant of modern happenings she was shrewd and powerful enough to come to know the likes of King Oberon and former Queen Mab, which spoke volumes of her experience already. Disregarding how long it has been since she has walked the Earth personally.

Tread carefully.

“It was a rather interesting meeting, she caught me red handed during a kidnapping. Neither of us knowing the other’s intentions. We fought briefly while I managed to escape, the ensuing Witch Fire that came about when I had knocked her unconscious had marked me. The fight, piqued my interest.” She spoke honestly as possible, it was true that today was the result of that initial fight. “I used the residual witch fire in my skin to find out more through a Fey oracle, thus coming to learn about your possessions. Particularly where I could find your Sight.” Odette said, leveling her gaze at Gwyneth. The context was verily more complicated, so if not only for Odette’s benefit to gloss over it saved time in explaining. “I had hoped to understand the White Witch more through these possessions, possibly having a hand in reuniting a clearly powerful witch such as yourself, Gwyneth, with the present. The world…”

She paused, looking out to the distance. The beautifully rendered illusion of the English coast. “Has lost a significant sparkle the past few centuries. I am very interested in bringing our worlds back together. So, that is how I find myself here speaking with you today. I would very much be willing to help you and White Witch reunite.” Deciding then, the way this conversation has gone Odette felt confident in possibly allying herself with Gwyneth.

Gwyneth’s entire being was washed over by a wave of fresh exhilaration, the idea of being able to join her two halves and complete her life’s work with such ease was indeed tempting. But something stirred in her core, a sinking feeling that not all was as it seemed. She would contain her excitement for now.

A noble quest indeed, Lady Ambassador. If you speak plainly and truthfully, I would very much like to take up your offer, but I have a question. What have you to gain from such a quest? As one who works so closely with the Fair Folk, you know there is always an exchange. One does not pay a price for nothing, and I cannot believe that one with such high standing as yourself among them would perform acts of charity.

Odette smiled knowingly, “You are absolutely correct in that. Number one, I want to be safely returned to my body. Number two, more importantly is that in exchange I want an alliance or truce. As it stands because I did fight with White Witch, you can imagine things are not quite friendly between us. The conditions of the truce would be a matter of staying out of each other’s business, if an alliance were to bloom, well that would be for the better, and I would be more than happy to discuss such conditions.”

The Ambassador smiled at the 600 year old witch, “As you know, Fey love to negotiate. There stands to be a lot to gain from an alliance.”

The wind had begun to pick up, Gwyneth’s hair and cloak floating carelessly about her. She raised a hand to move the hair from her face, eyes glistening with joyful tears that threatened to fall if not contained. This was an opportunity she wasn’t likely to receive again.

I . . . I would be forever grateful, indebted even, if you would do me this honor. But I warn you, and let these words carry more weight than the finest Faerie arms: I cannot, I will not be betrayed again. Never again. My trust is in exceedingly short supply. I have been without it for a portion of my life and the many years after. There is no place in the world for one who would shatter my faith or betray my trust, and neither this prison which holds my spirit now nor the very jaws of Hell could contain my wrath if a vow to me were again broken. Understand this now, Lady Ambassador, for whatever flames have scorched your earth before are but singular sparks, dying embers of a celestial fire that has burned for centuries and centuries to come. Have I spoken plainly enough?

Her expression hardly changed as Odette’s head bowed low, “I would expect nothing less. Allow my actions to speak louder than my words. I do not build bridges to burn them. One does not earn the title of Ambassador by betrayal.” When she stood up straight, she fixed some hair behind her ears. “With that understanding would you like to discuss an alliance or truce?”

Gwyneth wore a larger smile than she thought herself capable of producing. It was all coming together, every piece falling into place. She could trace the threads of fate to this exact moment, knowing that all that was destined to happen, all that she had worked for, was finally here.

Gwyneth nodded, Shall we speak inside? I’m sure you would like to rest your legs and know more of the story than what you could read on your own.

The sorceress nodded, the negotiations hadn’t begun but Odette felt that once she crossed the threshold she would have easily diverted this prophetical nonsense. Puck’s words and sight had been disputed. The walk across the field to the homely cottage was short, the environment changed again reflecting how Gwyneth felt. Odette wondered what it would take to create such a space, to shed one’s spirit onto personal items to preserve their mind past death. The process had her curiosity.



The cottage was simple red brick with dark wooden trimming and supports, moss and vine creeping along the side creating intricate, natural designs. Scattered about the outside were dozens of small raised beds where an assortment of flowers and herbs were in full bloom. Beyond the sturdy, oak door lay a modest room clearly sectioned by the change in decoration from one space to the next. Immediately the living area came into frame, a large, open fireplace near antique chairs and a large bench. Next came Gwyneth’s living quarters, a single bed with fine quilts stacked atop it and one massive feather pillow at its head. Around the bed were several open books scattered all across the floor. Near this was a stone wash basin and the bucket used to fill it. And finally a small area dedicated to crafts that housed a loom, several lengths of fabric, and a small working altar for Gwyneth’s spells with some alchemical apparatus and other mystical instruments thereabout.

Gwyneth lead Odette to a small, round table near the fireplace with two chairs neatly tucked underneath.

Excuse the mess, I wasn’t expecting company . . . ever. she apologized with a sweet smile, snapping her fingers and watching with satisfaction as the whole house began to tidy itself. A broom flew about sweeping up dust, books realigned themselves on empty shelves, dishes flew into a basin smaller than the tub and began to rinse and dry themselves before hanging and stacking themselves in their proper place, and a fire roared in the pit, beckoning a cauldron to sit atop its growing flame and bubble with expectant delight.

Odette stood still patiently waiting for the cleaning spell to complete curiously studying the surroundings, the books in particular. Lifting her foot to avoid a stray dish passing a bit low. It was rare to see her own home in such a state as Gwyneth’s but Odette conceded this would be the one forgivable case.

“Lovely little home. Very cozy. For an illusion everything seems to have a weight to it here, this little pocket dimension is quite impressive in foundation.” She smiled pleasantly and added to herself, Far too rustic by any real means.

“If you like we can begin discussing the means of our agreement or alliance. I am your guest here, I will happily follow my hostess’ lead.” She commented waiting for Gwyneth to take a seat.

Gwyneth nodded, seating herself at the table and motioning for Odette to do the same.

This little cottage is by no means the most luxurious of homes I’ve had, but it does well enough, thank you. As for terms, I believe you and I would most benefit from an alliance or friendship upon my full awakening. I shall be hard pressed to find anyone competent and willing to aid me in my future endeavors, but you work with the Fey. You are cunning, I imagine, strong willed, patient. And, as evident of this meeting, quite powerful. I would be willing to agree to aiding you in your future endeavours, the matters of which I would expect to be fully disclosed, or enough so that there is not so much risk, in exchange for the same, and of course, your help in returning my memories to the White Witch. But this is a negotiation, what have you to add or ask?

Odette took a seat, crossing her legs and holding her hands in her lap. She nodded along to what the witch said, she expected as much. No one with experience with the Fey did not enter agreements without specifics.

“Thank you, I appreciate the compliments. Transparency of course builds a level of trust so that condition will, of course, be no problem. I would love to know more of these memories and their retrieval before I agree, I am sure I am capable of helping.”

Gwyneth nodded, sitting up slightly and letting out a low sigh as if casting off a large weight.

It is difficult to say what my current incarnation knows, but the spell that binds my spirit here is designed to bring us closer. That I know little of the modern world means she has yet to recover enough of our shared past to strengthen our connection. The memories I wish to regain are but the tales of my past, all of my trials and tests, my feats of greatness, my failures, of course my magic, and my mission. I’m sure you’ve wondered why I trapped my soul in various hosts and scattered them the world over. This was all part of a larger plan, a grand spell that would allow me to live without fear of betrayal or harm, a spell of true invincibility.

Gwyneth adjusted herself once more before continuing.

Odette leaned forward to listen, invincibility capturing her attention unlike before. She leaned forward into her hands resting her chin in her palm.

You see, I was orphaned as a girl, left on the outskirts of a small village in Wales as a babe, parents likely taken by a plague. The townsfolk knew well the tricks of Faery midwives and didn’t dare collect me from my place lest they invite a changeling among them, but a poor widow took pity on my soul and invited me into her home. I do not recall her name, but I remember that she always smelled faintly of honey and ale. The widow had seven children and not a single space for another, yet she found room for me. . .

Gwyneth paused for a moment, peering out the window of the cottage, lost in thought. Everything around them seemed to change, distortion rippling through the air, a new scene unfolding with each scattering wave.

The pair now sat at the end of a long table in a house much smaller than Gwyneth’s cottage. The inside was messy and chaotic, the flooring was worn and large patches of exposed ground were left uncovered, the walls etched with scratches from wild children. At the other end sat a miserly woman in rags spooning porridge into seven bowls, suckling the baby Gwyneth.

It was here I stayed for my first four years, the widow’s charge. We had little, but it was the only home I had known at the time, and unfortunately, it wouldn’t be long before I was driven from this place.

Odette watched the scene, listening rather intently to Gwyneth’s story. She felt it was far too late to interrupt and a few centuries of solitude it is easy to flow into speaking again with another person. She let her speak her piece.

Once again, everything began to shift. More slowly this time, the walls of the home became clean, the floor was slowly patched, drying racks were filled with herbs and game, and the whole house smelled of fresh grain and produce.

It was around this time I began to notice that I was different from the other children. I heard whispers on the wind, saw shadows dancing in the night sky, felt a warmth and security in the forest and trees where others felt only fear. A faery-born child, or one with fae ancestors. It was a common sight back then. Many witches could trace their line back to a faery nobleman who took a mortal wife. Our fire burns brighter than other witches, it is fanned with study and practice, but sparked at the moment of our birth. The villagers knew this, knew that I was a witch child, for with each new day the widow was granted another blessing.

Her home was always tidy, her children behaved, her roof never leaked, her wheat was never rancid, her butter never spoiled, her bread was never stale. She might have thought an angel had taken kindly to her plights if she didn’t know better. No, these were the doings of a witch, and the village knew it. Though it pained her, the widow was forced to remove me from her home lest she and her children be shunned, or worse. I never knew what became of her after my leaving. Wherever she is now, I hope she and her husband at peace.

Changelings lived very peculiar lives in and around humans, while witches especially struggled to practice safely among humans. How Gwyneth was able to slip away before others caught onto her strange presence was a stroke of good luck. Persecution was rampant in oral histories along with written. “Witch and faery bloodlines mix quite generously throughout history, I find and you will find as well when you step fully into the present. There is a lot to read and learn about. But please, do go on.”

Well, after I was run from the village, I took refuge in the surrounding woods. It was there I truly learned of myself, of the power coursing through my veins. The trees spoke to me in dreams, the spirits therein guiding my path, instilling me with skills and knowledge that I might survive the harsh wilds. I learned to build shelter, to gather and forage, to steal from the village and remain unseen, and the most useful skill of all, witchcraft. The spirits taught me the secret virtue of things, how I might use what I had to bring about miracles and wonders.

For five years I lived this way, wandering from place to place, making what I could, taking what I could not. The spirits taught me how to haggle and barter, told me that my power could bring me fortune if I would but sell my services to the desperate or needy, and so I did. Love philtres, minor blights, medicinal pouches, these were my wares and what I gained wasn’t always gold or silver. Sometimes I was given bread, others a bed for the night and a quick wash. Those who asked for my services pitied me for I was a young girl on her own, but feared me as well and never wished to house me longer than a night.

The world around them shifted more suddenly, the bustle of village life quickly fading into the serenity of the forest. Odette and Gwyneth sat at a table in a large clearing in the forest, sunlight barely piercing the thick canvas of leaves overhead. A disheveled, dilapidated hut lay at its center, a smokestack rising high above the canopy.

A young Gwyneth stood outside the hut, the crooked door bursting open to reveal a portly old woman in rags hunched over on a wooden cane, silver locks falling wildly about her head.

On one of my expeditions, I met a woman whom I knew as Nanny Owens. It was she who named me Gwyneth, and much later in life I took her surname out of respect for her. She was the first witch I had ever encountered, a hermit woman living on the precipice of the civilization and the wild. Her heart wept for me. She recognized me as a witch the moment I stepped foot in her forest. She took me in and became my mentor in many things, teaching me how to cook and care for myself, how to speak to folks, women’s crafts like sewing and embroidery, and furthered my knowledge of the Craft, enlisting my aid in her many spells and charms for the townsfolk who came to her in secret.

Gwyneth looked forlorn, everything around them turning dull. The trees began to wither, the already dilapidated building falling down upon itself, Nanny Owens and young Gwyneth fading from view.

I was 15 when they came for her . . . witch hunters, a whole order of them stomping around our forest in search of the devil’s whores who were corrupting their lands. Nanny Owens had unleashed a pox on a farmer’s cows two weeks earlier at the request of a rival. Sent the whole town into a fit. Nanny knew she’d be killed, so her only thought was to protect me. That’s why she called Him.

A black mist descended upon them, swirling around the grove, forming into a singular mass that erupted into a pillar of flames. The glowing embers slowly formed a man, bare chested, head like that of a black goat, legs and feet the same, flames spiraling upward into a candle that floated betwixt the goat’s horns.

The Witch Father, Bucca, Gwyneth introduced him with hints of awe in her voice. He came for me at Nanny’s request, took me away from her hut to the north, a large coven in London made of noble witches. It was unlike anything I’d ever seen.

Odette turned to look out upon the image of Bucca, she had seen the odd painting of him once before but to see such a realistic memory was another point. Very vivid and his mere presence alone inspired an air of mystery and unmistakable magic. Having met Hekate Odette wondered what it would be like to meet Bucca in his occult glory. This for now, was enough. The sorceress looked to Gwyneth whose eyes were on Bucca, casually gazing noting her slight reverence for him. The scenery changes were helpful in telling her story but disorientating without her ties to the world outside of Gwyneth’s item, she felt like she was losing her footing in this little world of hers.

The world around them began to shift dramatically, the dense forest overtaken by high walls lined in royal colors, English finery scattered about a large bedchamber with delicate sheets and fabrics draping down over a queen-sized mattress. A small table near a balcony window is where the pair now found themselves, comfortably seated under the warm rays of the noon sun. A young Gwyneth strode past accompanied by a trio of women and a tall, blonde man, all adorned with rich garments that clearly showed their status.

Gwyneth pointed at herself and those in her company, all gathered around an oversized vanity, flipping through a great, dusty tome.

The London witches were something else. Few of them began their journey with witchcraft. Many, in fact, began as the offspring or apprentices of great magicians and learned wizards, clinging to their master’s every word. But it was not the place of a wizard to use his power for his own gain in that time. A wizard helped his king and country, a witch helped herself and hers. I passed on the knowledge Nanny Owens had gifted me, and the Londoners gave me a place to sleep, a heightened position in society, and a bit of the astrological and alchemical knowledge they had kept from their former teachers.

I had become a seamstress’s apprentice while in London, working on fine dresses for the noblewomen mostly. But the folks of London still had need for a witch, and the witches there taught me that one needn’t just survive in this life, they should thrive and enjoy all the finer things that they could. I had been weary of groups before then, especially groups of mortals; they had always done me harm in the past, but I was coming into my own in London, blossoming and blooming. I began to trust the common man once again, I even took a few friends outside the coven who housed me. This, unfortunately, would be my undoing . . .

Gwyneth stopped, expression neutral, eyes glazed and distant. She was forcing herself to relieve every painful moment, but it was for the best.

Odette pursed her lips waiting a few moments, letting the silence between them grow comfortably. To see the past through the eyes of Gwyneth, to see history of days long past. It would be humbling for some but Odette wanted to know what happened next, how did Gwyneth survive the centuries? Was it worth it to split one’s soul?

Eager to hear more, Gwyneth’s expression was easy to read. She feigned some empathy, “If you need a moment…?”

Gwyneth seemed to stir from a deep sleep, taking a moment to see if she had heard Odette. Realizing that she had, she continued.

Apologies. What came next is what set me on my current path. As I said, I befriended a mortal, a maidservant who worked in close proximity to King Henry VIII. She and I traded tips and secrets from our respective professions, and once we had been friends for a time of two years, I let her know of my magic. As you can imagine, she was equal parts delighted and devastated. To be a witch in that time was a dangerous thing, she feared for my life more than she feared what I might inflict upon her. But she also knew of the many ways I could bless her, of the wonders she had heard in legends and tales.

I was 18, I believe, when she betrayed my trust. A new edition of the Malleus Maleficarum had been released recently, prompting for the continued onslaught of witch-hunting by pretentious nobles and self righteous clergy. A new wave of witch hunters seeking sanction from the church to carry out their holy crusade came marching down the streets, taking prisoner of anyone whom they could call a witch, planting evidence of bewitchment in places where fear of witches hadn’t reached its peak. My maid friend’s mother had been accused of poisoning a well, her sister accused of changing shape in the night and stirring dark storms. None of this was true, of course. I knew the witches of London and many from the surrounding area; they were not so careless with their arts. But fear of persecution took my friend prisoner. She became a slave to these fears, hoping desperately that she could make amends and spare the lives of her family if she could produce a true witch for the hunter’s stake.

The room spun once. When it ceased, they sat in a large dining room, decor matching that of the bedroom they had just seen. The young Gwyneth and her coven sat at the other end, merrily drinking and feasting as the moon rose overhead. A banging sound echoed through the hall, giving way to a door cracking open and two brawny fellows in long coats and wide-brimmed hats stomping into the dining room, there to arrest Gwyneth and all in attendance.

Naturally, I fought back. Gwyneth quickly added, allowing the scene to unfold.

As the witch hunters neared, Gwyneth and the others held out their arms, the two hunters thrown from the room and crashing into a wall with great force. Gwyneth chased after them, arriving at their motionless forms, she raised her arm and up they came, suspended in midair. With only a glare the whole room was ablaze, fire traveling up the wall where the hunters were now held, licking their trouser legs and coats, swallowing them whole. The other witches fled past her, leaving the house behind, knowing they could never return. Gwyneth followed them.

I didn’t leave London immediately after that. I went up to the servant’s quarters of the castle and sought my maid friend so that I might inform her of my leaving. It was then she told me what she had done. In a fit of rage, I cast her from the window overlooking the courtyard where she fell to her death. I cannot say I regret that decision.

Odette shielded her eyes against the blaze of light in the fiery memory. “A lot has changed in the past centuries but many practitioners of all schools of magic keep their skills a secret. Myself included, there are very few who know of both my names. It is easier.” She gestured to the scene with a wave of a hand, “For your friend I would have done the same for such a betrayal. Possibly worse given some time and thought.”

Gwyneth looked at Odette, a soft smile barely visible. Though it was grim, Odette’s words were comforting. As she adjusted herself in her seat, the world seemed to fall back into place. The pair returned to Gwyneth’s cottage, seated at the same little table where they began.



The tale becomes quite repetitive after this, I’m afraid. From London I flew to East Anglia where I spent the better part of a year before the church began to march on the local settlements and burn their resident witches. Then on to Scotland where a farmer nearly struck me down in the night, then to France for a time, hoping to gain back what I had lost in London, but the witch hunts there were fiercer than England. Finally, I returned to Wales, ensorcelling a carpenter to build me this little cottage by the sea, placing his bones in the walls as a powerful deterrent for mundane threats.

I came to hate mortals, my every encounter with them showing me that they couldn’t be trusted. Wherever I went, they would eventually betray me and there was no way to conceal my identity for long. If ever I tried to settle down or get close to someone, they would either betray me too, or would be taken by another envious mortal. I wouldn’t allow myself to be taken advantage of any longer, wouldn’t allow those mortal swine to decide that my life was worthless. That’s when I began searching for the answer, a way to become truly invulnerable, impervious to any of their foul tricks.

Gwyneth turned in her chair to face a chest next to the small altar on the far side of the room. She made a motion that unlocked the chest and another that brought its contents forward. They seemed a random assortment of items, strange reagents in amber bottles, burnt scrolls and stray parchment with hastily scribbled notes, the odd alchemical diagram, but nothing particularly noteworthy.

It may not look it, but this was the answer. I had spent my last days scouring the globe for a spell that would do the trick. I read volume after volume of magical theory from Egyptian sorcerers, delved deep into the knowledge of the Arabic alchemists and astrologers, traveled through histories the world over for the answers, returning all that I had learned to my corner of the world. At last, I combined what I had gathered with Welsh folk belief to craft my invulnerability spell, something that would give me the power to stand against my every oppressor, something to ensure that no mortal would ever forfeit my life for their own gain, something that would allow me to live in peace and free of betrayal.

As you can see, I was unsuccessful in the performing of said spell. Do not doubt that it exists, however. The spell was sound, ready to be tested, but I was interrupted by a coalition of testy villagers and church officials who wanted nothing more than for me to burn. I hadn’t the time to fight them off, nor the time to perform the spell as planned. I couldn’t flee and take all my research with me at the same time. I had to make a decision, and I’m sure you can guess what that was.

It was plainly difficult for Odette to hide the shine in her eye, her excitement at knowing such a thing existed. She clutched her hands in her lap, “How? How did you manage such a feat as splitting your soul with angry villagers stomping at your front door?”

Gwyneth chuckled, moving in closer, placing her arms on the table.

That, my Lady, was part of the original spell and the only section I had prepared. The intent was to bind the whole of my spirit to one item that I would make invulnerable. That way my spirit would be forever bound to this world, thus making my body a vessel for my mind only, and a vessel is an easy thing to repair or replace. I modified that portion of the spell and instead bound pieces of my soul, and in turn my memories, to multiple items, tools that I had used quite heavily in life. I knew that, when I was executed, the other half of my spirit would be unable to fully move on. I issued a command to the halves of my soul that they were to take themselves as far away from this place as they could and never remain stagnant for too long. I then sent a silent prayer to Bucca before confronting the townsfolk, asking that He guide my way so that I might become whole again and finish my work. I suspect He had something to do with the White Witch’s awakening, and his trickster brother, Puck, was even more involved than He.

Odette sat back in her chair with an audible squeak of wood. Her eyes grew wide at that particular revelation. “I- I did not know that Puck was related to Bucca. I always believed he was particularly gifted Fey…” She stood from her chair a little too fast. “Thank you for sharing your story, Madame. Quite a lot of information to process. I see now why you must reassemble your items. With all these mentions of soul and memory, once reunited what will happen to White Witch? Will your spirit and memory supercede your current incarnation?”

“My dealings here today will be exclusively with you.”

Whomever the White Witch is, she and I are still one and the same. Whatever memories and experiences she has amassed in her brief time on Earth, they are only a fraction of the pain, power, and pleasure of her past. When the halves of my soul are reunited, I will remember my cause. I will not forget those whom I had known as the White Witch, but I believe that I shall no longer wish to be near them lest they betray my trust as those in my past. This meeting too shall be remembered when the halves are joined, and however the White Witch may feel about you, Lady Ambassador, will come second to what I have promised you, this I guarantee.

Odette leaned against the back of the chair, chewing at the inside of cheek in thought. “I can accept that. Whatever your cause may be I do not feel any real affinity to my fellow mortal. With the understanding of your background I will be able to help reunite you with your scattered pieces. An alliance with a powerful witch such as yourself is an attractive option for me.” She placed her hand over her heart, “What I truly wish for with this agreement is simply not to step on eachother’s toes. You have aspirations once your soul is reassembled and I have my own. We can add a condition of consultation if our actions were to affect the other’s. Leave an open channel of communication for you and I.” Straightening she thought back on the story Gwyneth shared, trying to cover her bases. “In the spirit of transparency I will answer any questions you have for me before we shake hands on this alliance.”

Gwyneth smiled warmly, the whole of the cottage seeming to brighten as she did. Was this trust she felt seeping into her mind, corrupting her actions with its naivety. Perhaps this was one instance where trust was needed, perhaps this was the first among many transactions she was to make where betrayal wasn’t an option . . . but it never hurt to be cautious.

Gwyneth nodded, I agree that measures must be taken to assure both your safety and my own that we might never cross the other in the days to come. To that end, Gwyneth paused, holding up her hand but not turning away. A scroll flew from an overhead shelf into her grasping hand. She laid it out on the table, words forming on the blank sheet.

Inscribed herein are the terms we have exchanged during this procession, including the aforementioned call for open consultation before a particularly audacious undertaking. You mentioned that my other half works closely with Puck, yes? In my time, he had long been crafting magical contracts for mortal and witch alike. I cannot sign a legal document as I am now, nor will you likely be successful in convincing my current incarnation to do so, but Puck might be able to sign in my place if I am contracted with him in the waking world.

Gwyneth nudged the scroll toward Odette.

I can offer you this document as a vivid memory to be taken to Puck and recalled for transcription into a proper form that you and he may review and sign. Perhaps it is too much a formality, but given my past dealings and your experience with the Fey, I feel it may be necessary to ensure our mutual safety. Would you do this for me upon the conclusion of our meeting?

Odette looked upon the document drawn up, her eyes running across the inked words. “As you know a handshake is as binding to me as a written contract,” She sighed, “I suppose Puck would be the only viable option to represent you in the waking world. I will bring this contract to him and we will go over it together.” She said holding out her hand. “Upon this handshake I promise to take this contract to Puck and only then will our alliance be complete upon his signing in your stead.”

Gwyneth smiled and stood, reaching out her arm to take Odette’s but stopping just before to add, There is, however, the matter of how you will help retrieve my memories and the items that hold them. As it stands, my other half can find them only when the connection between us grows, when the veil that separates past from present is thinned. By some force of luck, or perhaps fate if you believe in it, you have come upon one of nine separate vessels for my spirit, and the White Witch, to my knowledge, has found only one. I may be able to instill you with some sense of where the others are hidden, but how shall you return them to me given your current standing with the White Witch?

“Quite simply, I will present White Witch with the Sight and give her the choice of accepting my help. She may have access to Puck’s network of portals, the ones I build can go anywhere. If you were to give me knowledge of where to find the items I can act as her…” Her smile was full of genuine humour, “Her guide. If she is on the hunt for the items as it were, she would be a fool to refuse my help and intimate knowledge regardless of our previous disagreements.”

With regard to this, Gwyneth added a final note, I have a request. However you proceed, do not make it easy for me. Much as I long to return to the world in full, I cannot dismiss the good of trials and tricks. I would ask that, at your own discretion, you test the White Witch’s mettle with whatever Faery skills you possess that she may grow stronger and that our eventual reunion is even more fruitful.

Odette steepled her hands in front of her face, a grin of unmistakable excitement and joy. Cheerily she said, “You have yourself a deal, Madame. Trial, opposition, challenges rooted in chaos. It will be my pleasure.”

Gwyneth bore a wicked grin, her arm fully outstretched. She took firm grasp of Odette’s hand.

Then it is decided. A bargain has been struck. This has been a pleasure, Lady Ambassador. Now, as promised,

Gwyneth pulled Odette in close, her blue eyes piercing Odette’s, their faces mere centimeters apart.

May you see a light in the dark, may all my treasures be dually felt and found, and may you carry these words with you for all time that they may never be gone from you mind. So be it. Gwyneth blew a soft, sweet breath over Odette’s eyes, her blessings taking hold. As her final word echoed over the illusory fields, all seemed to fade from view, returning to that primordial darkness from whence it came.

The darkness enveloped her once again but felt as if her mind was a slingshot back into consciousness. Odette shot up in her hotel bed with a gasp, holding the now opened box cradling Gwyneth’s Sight neatly inside. Her eyes were wide staring down at its contents. Large copper, wooden, and silver coins engraved with various occult symbols, wordlessly her fingers brushed over them.

When she spoke it was to both Bach and Mandate, her breathing was in short hurried breaths.

“I have a plan.”

---

Some time near dawn

Zoë was not feeling that it was going to be a constructive day, despite the upcoming call and pending move. Having slept for a fitful few hours, she was now standing bleary eyed in what remained of her kitchen, directing her helpers in packing up and shipping off the rest of her possessions to storage. Her work phone was in her pocket, along with her secured phone, while she held the civilian one in one hand, flipping through real estate listing across the country. She had already decided against remaining in California unless something spectacular showed up, and nothing had. Setting down the phone for a moment on the bare formica counter, she retrieved her overly large mug and sipped the now lukewarm tea she had made earlier, watching the workers over the rim of the cup.

Alex, one of several local boys that had decided to work with her full time while she was in LA, was pacing up to her nervously. The young man was perhaps twenty, fresh out of prison for gang-related crimes since he was fifteen, had leapt at the opportunity to make 'legit' money, and had so far proven to be rather more steadfast and loyal than the Frenchwoman had been honestly expecting from a young Latino covered in gang tattoos and wearing simply the worst in the latest “gangsta” fashion. No book resembles its cover, I suppose, she thought idly, watching him approach. He, like the rest, had at least glimpsed that she was a meta with significant power, and most of them let him speak for them, too scared lest she do something awful. She hadn't given them reason to suspect she would, but perhaps the social stigma of being a villain didn't help.

“Yes, Alex?” she asked as he finally got within a reasonable speaking distance. “Is there something the matter?”

“Uh...No, Miss, at least, not with the packing. We're almost through.” He had gotten over the habit of wincing in anticipation of being punished while talking to her, for which she was grateful, though he still remained incapable of meeting her gaze.

“What is it, then?”

“Well,” he said, rubbing the back of his shaved head, “it's just, we was all wondering...If you're leaving, is there still gonna be a job? Cause a lot of us gots family here, we can't just go, y'know?”

Ah, I was wondering when this was going to come up. Magnifique. “No, Alex, you won't be coming with me, but there will still be a job for all of you. I will be maintaining my business interests here, and in fact I have a job for you as soon as you are done here, if you want it.”

“Huh?” She knew he would be confused. She had yet to show any real faith in any of them. A byproduct of the natural paranoia that came with being a villain, she supposed.

“There are two tasks, one of which is very much more complicated than the other. First, though, I want you to take down this number.” She rattled off the Wraith number, the one phone she didn't have on her because no one was ever stupid enough to call her on it. “That is how you will stay in contact with me from now on. I want you to use burner phones whenever possible, at least until I can get you a secure line.”

Thankfully, Alex was a very intelligent lad. He would have to be, for her to work with him, but he was a cut above the rest as well. Not his fault the system let him and his family down.

“Okay,” he said, finishing typing it into his own device.

“Next, I need you to take several documents, which I will email to you in the next couple of days, over to the real estate office to purchase a property for me. I will be using it as my new center here, so I want you to make sure everything is nice and legal, yes?”

“Si,” he mumbled, still typing in his phone. She knew by now that he was taking notes, not texting someone, but it still irked her somewhat. Couldn't he use a notepad or something?

“Following that, I-” She was interrupted by a buzzing from her pocket. “Sorry, I have to take this,” she said, setting her mug down and waving him off. “I will be in contact. Finish up here please.” As he headed back over to where the rest were joking around and moving the last box onto the truck, Zoë retrieved the phone from her pocket. Her heart sank slightly, as it always did, when it wasn't her secret line. But it was work, and she had expected it. She flipped the little disposable open and hit the button for accepting the call.
 
A distinctly french accented voice greeted Forge by her alias in English, “Good morning, Madame Forge. This is Jacque with the Parisian Syndicate. Are you free to speak with me?”
 
Jacque waited patiently, minor background noise of industrial machinery could be heard filtering through the earpiece.
 
The villainess was taken aback for a moment, and her accent came back without her bidding. “Paris Syndicate? How have I not heard of this before now?” She shook her head and continued, schooling her voice but not bothering to hide her accent now that she had spoken with it. “Never mind. I am free, taking care of last minute business. You have something you need done?”
 
A slight pause as Jacque noticed the accent change, trying to figure out where she was from, naturally slipping into French. “I do not have work for you but rather hoping to set up a meeting for my partner whom wishes to employ you. They are in need of a metahuman who is particularly skilled with controlling fire.” He added, pleasantly, “The Shroud Syndicate is an international organisation, we operate out of Paris.”
 
He went on, his footsteps echoing across metal walkways. “I noted you are largely interested in the situation regarding these Hounds of Humanity, yes? My partner is as well.”
 
Zoë slipped easily back into her mother tongue, despite not having spoken it for months. “Yes. They are...a bother. I would prefer they were eliminated, burnt from their holes, and reduced to ash before they cause any more issues for anyone.”
 
She smiled to herself and said, “As for skill with fire, you will not find anyone who is hotter than I am. And I have some additional skills that may come in handy, depending on what your partner has in mind. I will say now, however, my services do not come cheap. Do you have a price range in mind?”
 
He laughed shortly at that, “Excellent. We share the same sentiment then. As for payment we can afford your rates upfront in full, half - whichever is convenient. You hold a reasonable reputation from what I have seen, running independently of course.” The footsteps paused then carried on at a leisurely pace as he explained, “For sake of convenience my partner will come to you and discuss payment themselves.”
 
“We have only have one simple condition to be understood before such a meeting to be agreed upon.” Jacque said,  “When will be a good time and place for this meeting? Barring any security measures, and protection of anonymity. We understand secrecy above all else. Names, location, accounts for payment will be done through secured networks. If you are interested, of course.”
 
Her eyebrows shot up at the words ‘up front’. That was unexpected. Whoever these people were they were obviously well-funded. She responded in French, herself. “I could make my way clear of my current task within the next few hours, so whenever your associate feels they can make it to Los Angeles will be fine. With the number of incidents with our mutual enemies, the only secure location I can recommend is where I am standing.” She frowned, rubbing her elbow with her free hand.
 
“If I remember flight times correctly, they will not be here until tomorrow, so I will have some extra security for their sake, but otherwise, I think it will be fine. If you have an email address I can send you the information, or the broker you spoke with before would also have it.”
 
“In case it wasn’t obvious, I am interested. Jobs are running a bit dry with this group’s activity, hence my haste to deal with them. So, what is your condition?”
 
“Ah yes, flights. That will not be the case, they are in Las Vegas at the moment. Enroute to Los Angeles before they leave the United States.” He said, “Security will not be necessary, they have their own… ehm detail in place. I will retrieve the email address and any additional contact information from the brokerage, I will forward it to my partner.” He took a deep breath, taking great care in his word choice. “The condition is, as I said, very simple. My partner… has a very particular expectation of respect. If you agree to not use crude language and maintain your professionalism during this meeting and subsequent employment, you will find yourself some very lucrative work following this job.” He added, rather slyly, “The Syndicate is always in need of hiring exceptional people.”
 
Zoë’s eyes narrowed as she pondered how a flight would not be necessary for getting from Las Vegas to here, but the person must either be a meta or have decided to drive. ”Very well, in that case I suppose whenever is convenient for them. Let the contact know my currently listed home address is acceptable.”
 
Her eyes lightened up and she smiled wide as she learned of the ‘condition’ of this supposed employer, though she was feeling a bit on edge at the terminology being thrown around. ”I am sure following normal business protocols should be easy enough, sir. I would like you to keep in mind, however, that there is a reason I have been an independent contractor, and unless the offer your partner makes is something utterly miraculous, I will not be taking employment with anyone, Syndicate or otherwise, in the traditional sense.
 
An exhale of relief but he chuckled at her comment regarding the Syndicate but choose not to comment further. There was no point to pushing someone on the first phone call. She would come to see their resources first hand.

Having stated that, her voice flipped up to an almost sickeningly cheery register, and not all of it was false. She felt good to have work, and even better to have it from her fellow countrymen. ”One security measure I will insist on, of course, is that we exchange photos? That way neither of us attempts to kill the other before the meeting can get underway. Unless your partner would prefer passphrases?”
 
“Passphrases, they prefer to do introductions themselves.” He replied. “The passphrase will be Fête de la Fédération for my partner. What will yours be?”
 
Zoë pondered for a moment, and then replied, ”La Maid devrait être un chevalier. Any idea when I can expect this partner of yours. I would like my associates to be gone by the time they arrive here.”
 
Jacque paused for a moment, finally able to place her accent. “I hear Orléans is rather lovely this time of year. If you don’t mind my saying, of course. Your accent is acute to my ears. Do not fret, I think an American would struggle to tell the difference,” He laughed, “Your passphrase is rather telling.”
 
Switching back to English, she smiled and said with a snort, ”Americans can’t tell their own accents from each other, what chance do they have with a more refined language? You can take the girl out of the city, but not the city out of the girl, eh? It would be very nice there right now, but I have not been home in a long time. Something about the work being not conducive to living in a city I love.”
 
Jacque followed suit as well, switching back to English, “You can expect my partner sooner rather than later. As I said, they are enroute.” He thought of warning Forge of The Ambassador’s more eccentric qualities but that would certainly ruin the surprise. “Merci beaucoup, Madame. We look forward to working with you.”
 
”You as well, monsieur. Have a pleasant afternoon!”

Zoë snapped her phone shut, glancing over to where the truck was just pulling away from the door and Alex was busying himself sweeping before closing the place up and leaving her alone. Well that was stupid. Now I have to go get new furniture and everything just for a meeting. She headed over to Alex, who reacted to her movement much like a rabbit would, freezing in place until he could see she wasn't angry. Which was also stupid, since everyone could see when she was getting angry. The walls tended to ignite.

"Alex, I need one more thing from you today, and then you are free to go do whatever it is you do during the day."

"Uhh, sure, yes ma'am. What is it?"

She pulled out a wad of bills from her pocket and peeled off what she thought was probably more than enough. "Go to, I don't know, Walmart or something, and get the nicest lawn furniture they have. Table, chairs, and whatnot. Go get me...ugh. Some crackers and fruit as well. Take your time, I will be gone for a while myself, but then I expect you back here by eleven, yes?"

"Okay."

"Oh, and keep whatever you don't use, but it had best be adequate items."

As he hurried off, Zoë opened her civilian phone and began typing in several queries. A local bakery, a tiny little boutique eatery that probably cost more than most people made in a week to eat at, and the 'best' winery around. Considering who she had just spoken too, none of this would be good enough, but it wasn't for her, either, and she was not likely to find actual French cuisine here on short notice without going into Hollywood, which she refused to do.

---

Several hours later

The sun had finally stopped making the ceiling glow with reflected light through the windows, something she hadn't had to deal with for while, since she had installed thick curtains over them when she had moved in. Checking her phone again, she sighed. Shouldn't have gotten rid of the television yet, she thought to herself, eyes glazing over slightly while she flipped idly through to available games to buy for her phone. It could be useful during the long dull hours of her career between jobs, though dulling her senses might be a danger.

She stretched one leg underneath the little table and set her heel on the opposite chair, pausing to admire Alex's purchases. The table was a simple small, circular table, wrought iron leg with four clawed feet and the same metal around the outside, framing a four foot expanse of small slate tiles in muted greens, greys, and blues. A small hole in the center would fit an umbrella that came with it, though she had bid Alex to keep it in his truck until later. The chairs were the same iron work, though they featured solid boards of some deeply dark-stained wood, formed so that the things were not at all uncomfortable.

Arranged on the table were several plates filled with slices of cured meats, fruits cut to bite-sized cubes, and slabs of a few different cheeses. Zoë had sampled two of them already, and though one was some sort of Irish cheese, and one of the ones she hadn't tried was a German, she had to admit it wasn't a terrible selection. Alex had done the best, however, in finding a bakery that sold traditional baguettes, a few of which were nestled into a woven basket with a cloth covering them to keep them from going stale. Her own prize purchases were several bottles of French import wines, the prices on which had been quite reasonable, especially given the hour. She had also not been able to stop herself from buying a set of four fluted wineglasses, the stems of which had a distinctly flame-like motif. All-in-all, her fellow countryman (or woman, they hadn't said) would at least find this attempt at a café table not offensive.

Having reviewed her preparations in other cases, she mentally checked off her own person. A simple red baseball tee with black accents, loose-fitting jeans, and a set of running shoes, all of which were as inexpensive as her the rest of her wardrobe so she didn't ever have to regret incinerating something nice. A snub nose .38 revolver in one pocket, and a pair of long fighting knives attached to the underside of her seat by way of metal brackets. The whole of the table could also easily be a weapon if she was pressed. And above, on the ceiling, a large box full of twisted scrap metal she had scraped off of her target range before packing everything up, easily within range for her to burn it open and rain searing shards of steel down on anyone inside a thirty foot circle. She didn't honestly expect to need any of these things, but knowing how dangerous some of her clients could be, and not knowing anything about this person or their 'security detail', caution was her comfort here.

Satisfied she had done everything she had the time to do to prepare, she lapsed back into boredom. Hopefully they were here before she had picked the food clean.

---

roleplayerguild.com/posts/4089371


Isaac Fontaine, the black clad street vigilante called…

...well… the Vigilante… ahem...

...is currently in Philadelphia, as player-coach in a major collegiate rugby Sevens tournament for Lost Haven University (which the school sees as a bargain-basement alternative to a football program to raise the profile of the school, particularly with international students, after the massacre caused by the monstrous Nightmare). That night, after the day’s games he looked to investigate a series of reported violent crimes and accounts of trespass.

Whilst thwarting a break and enter theft on the waterfront, Isaac took down 4 out of 5 perpetrators before the fifth was dispatched by a jovial man who could apparently form multiple duplicates of himself.

...before the man attacked the Vigilante with unwinnable numbers of duplicates.

The last thing Isaac saw before getting knocked out, was the name of a ship in the warehouse.

The “U.S.S. ELDRIDGE”...

---

That prickly feeling.

That bristling sensation of when you wake up in your mask and your face has settled for so long that your facial hairs are getting snagged and caught on the material inside. And in that instant, Isaac knew the mask hadn’t been removed.

If he weren’t worried it would give away the fact that he’d come to he’d breathe a sigh of relief. Isaac’s mind started to race as he tried to piece together all he knew. U.S.S. Eldridge, a factory on the QT which had been the long sought after target for break-in, protected by someone… a metahuman? Not like any he knew. Maybe something else? 5 perpetrators of the Break and enter… all 5 incapacitated at the time Isaac was knocked out. He got knocked out. That’d never happened before. He’d been stabbed, shot, run over with cars, “died” numerous times from an all-powerful entity who was up past her bedtime, punched and kicked by people far stronger than the guy/s who did it too. He’d drifted into unconsciousness from blood loss or shock from exposure to high levels of toxicity, never just cold knocked out though. It was unsettling, and easy to understand why it distracted him so much. He’d been throwing himself into fights since he was a teenager. Fighting the crazier aspects and elements of the universe for a few years, but that had still never happened.

“He’s come to!”

Shit. Apparently Isaac had been stirring too much. His cover blown he opened his eyes and saw the 5th man from before; one of the 5 looking to rob this place, trussed up like a turkey opposite him.

“Wakey, wakey, Hero. How’s it feel knowing we all got a good look at who you really are?”

But that prickly feeling told him otherwise.

“Nice try.” came Isaac’s retort through the voice modulator.

The man shrugged his shoulders. “It was worth a shot.” He couldn’t shrug much else. Not the way he was tied up.

But that did pose some interesting questions, where were the other 4? Where was the overly jovial man from last night? How long had he been out cold? And what were they looking to steal?

It was still dark. So… unless he’d been beaten so badly he went into a coma he’d only been out a few hours. Isaac didn’t feel like he’d been beaten too bad… but then Isaac didn’t feel like anyone had been beating him at all. He never really did. So that wasn’t much help.

“Well… I don’t think I’m going to learn much from you at this point.” Isaac said to the crook opposite. He moved as wrists as far towards his right pocket where the omni-tool would be, and falling just short he popped his right shoulder out of its socket for a little extra reach.

The crook winced. “Oh God! Are you kidding me?”

Isaac stared directly at the disgusted criminal and leered, making him even more uncomfortable, as he grabbed the omni-tool out of his pocket and popped his shoulder back in, setting to work on the ropes.

He hadn’t been frisked, and both men had been tied up in a really inefficient fashion. Whoever the jovial man was, he was an amateur.

“Good morning!” the jovial man’s voice boomed, full of energy. Isaac quickly palmed the omni-tool inside one of his gloves. “You know, that really isn’t necessary. The ropes were only there in case you went a little wacky after you wakey-wakey’d.”

Isaac scowled with a glare that could give off its own kind of heat. “And why did you knock me out?”

“Because you’re a strange man in a mask at a highly classified facility. I had to buy some time until I could figure out who you were.” The smile dropped. “So… sorry about that.” He presented a box-cutter knife and cut through the ropes that bound him. “But you sound like you’re going to be reasonable and just talk now, yes?”

The cut ropes fell around Isaac and he stood up, his limbs were asleep from the awkward way he’d been sitting.

“This way!” The man said with a smile. “You look like someone who has an appreciation for privacy and these are delicate matters, yes?”

“What about him?” Isaac pointed to the other man.

“Don’t worry. I have a few eyes I’ll be keeping on him.” He flashed a knowing grin. Isaac remembered the replicates of the man from earlier and nodded in acknowledgment.

The pair recessed to a small office in the factory that was sparsely decorated. A table, some chairs, filing cabinets book shelves and a moderately sized safe in the corner. Isaac assumed whatever the five were looking to steal was kept within that safe.

“First, I believe introductions are in order… I am Richard Feynman. Theoretical Physicist for the Manhattan Projects, part of the investigative team that looked into the problems NASA had with the Challenger mission, general smarty-pants and as you have just witnessed, the self-proclaimed world’s first ‘Quantum Man’, and you…”

Isaac rocked forward in anticipation.

“...you are the Turn-Down-For-What Man from the recent D-Day events. Get around punching general nogoodniks in the face whilst dressed in black and calling yourself Vigilante. Have I got this right so far?”

“Pretty much.” Isaac covered his disdain for the Turn Down For What reference as best he could, seething quietly but mostly ignoring the comment.

“So, what were you doing here?”

“I tailed 5 people who broke into this building, who looked like they were up to no good.”

“And what no-good were they doing?”

“Well, from what they were saying, it sounds very much to me like they were going to rob the contents of that safe you’ve got there. Or maybe just take the whole safe and break into it or blow the locks from elsewhere.”

“And what do you suppose is in the safe?”

“I’ve no idea. But I’d presume something they’re not supposed to have. Otherwise you wouldn’t put it in a safe.”

“Aha!” Exclaimed Feynman, with the joy of someone who loved to teach having found some information he could now impart; a new lesson to spread. “Tell me, what do you know about the Manhattan Projects?”

“That was the World War II plan that gave the world the-- They were stealing plans for building a nuclear bomb??”

“No, no, no… you’re getting ahead of yourself. Back to what you first started to say.”

“Well, the Manhattan Project was the World War II plan for winning the war, they were building a nuclear bomb out at Los Alamos, New Mexico and using the best scientists the Allies could assemble...”

[color=aba000]“Ah! Very good but I did not say ‘Project’, I said ‘Projects’! The Projects were more blanket… all-encompassing… for any plans they could create that would turn the tide and win the war. The bombs. What the Manhattan Project came to be known as… that was only one part. The part that the Government chose to use. The safest means to assure success.”[/b]

Isaac began to consider the horrors that must have been turned down for the government to decide that it was preferable to drop nuclear weapons on people.

“Now there were metahumans around back then… but we are talking about government. Throwing individuals with power, who may have their own thoughts, opinions, uncontrollable views on things like philosophy, morality and political leanings. At a time of growing political uncertainty, as fear of red communism was growing - even WITHIN the war against nazis - it was not someting that the government was willing to risk. So Projects regarding widespread biochemical/genetic manipulation to create more metahumans were squashed. Likewise was another plan; the one we’re talking about here.”

Isaac looked across at the safe, wondering what it could possibly hold that men thought was too terrifying for this world.

“This other plan got much further. Even to the test phase, before the men right at the tippy-top decided to go another way. Have you ever heard of the Philadelphia Experiment?”

Isaac thought for a few seconds. “No. I-- don’t think I have.”

“OK. Well… The Philadelphia Experiment is something almost of legend now. This ship, the U.S.S. Eldridge supposedly disappeared from the harbour. Many different ideas, some people thought time-travel, others thought aliens were somehow involved...”

Feynman waited for Isaac’s excitement and anticipation to rise, but it never came. The Vigilante remained stoic. Feynman looked disappointed, but continued nonetheless.

“But what it ACTUALLY was, was the first example of Quantum Macroteleportation. During the concept and developmentation phase, the Government would pull the Great Niels Bohr and myself out of Los Alomos to a seperate facility, myself under the guise of visiting my sick wife… which I also did. ‘Car troubles’ and a myriad of other excuses helped to make up the extra ‘lost hours’ we covered for as well.”

Isaac threw Feynman an expression of curiosity. “Quantum tele--”

“Quantum MACROteleportation. Basically, we came up with a device which could break down an object into a single particle, include the information for how to reconstruct the object in its entirety ON that particle, and fire that particle to a second location where a receiving pad would collect that particle and reconstruct the object as it originally was.”

This did nothing to change Isaac’s expression. “That’s not what’s bothering me… I happen to know, first hand, that what you’re telling me is possible. I guess my sticking point is that you’re telling me that the government had a choice between giving the world nuclear weapons and teleportation - the ultimate choice in ‘destroy or create/innovate’ - and they chose to go with the option to lay waste to hundreds of thousands of people and scar the earth itself for years to come.”

It was now Feynman’s time to look at the Vigilante with curiosity, before breaking into laughter. “Ah HA HA HA! You really don’t see why they’d do it? Governments and men in shiny hats, suits and boots have been choosing to make bigger and bigger bombs to blow people to bits since ALWAYS! It’s not about the people. It’s about CONTROL. Bombs are simple. You make more, you keep them, you wait and drop them when needed… but teleportation. That’s a new IDEA. That changes the table. And in a way they can’t control once it’s out there. They let the new idea out, suppose in 5 years someone isn’t happy with these men? They decide to teleport a home made bomb into the White House… or Congress? You have to remember, this was a time where the greatest fears of these men was communist revolution! Even over the war! Teleportation is not just another bomb, despite the good that could be done with it. It’s like… what is the term? Genie! You have to get him back into the lantern. Bombs? Not so hard.”

Isaac considered what he was saying, turning it all over in his head. “Too hard to get the genie back in the lamp.” He muttered to himself. Could what he was saying be right..? Abso-bloody-lutely, Isaac thought. After all, Isaac’s own dealings with government figures both at home and abroad had never been entirely positive.

“Yes! Lamp! Not lantern! Thank you! That would have driven me crazy. I’m not as fancy smarty-pants with my english as with my physics and maths.” Feynman beamed.

“So they were… planning to steal plans for this teleportation machine to sell to, what, terrorists? Foreign nationalists?”

“Well… probably. But they would have got a whole lot more than just plans.” Feynman pulled Isaac closer aside and whispered, likely just for effect. “See, I made another smaller machine.”

Isaac pulled back. “Why?”

“I get bored. I wanted to see if I could make it smaller, more efficient. Science isn’t static, my friend.”

“But-- nobody was going to ever see or use it. You’re here by yourself.”

“True, I’m here by myself, but I had to believe I wasn’t going to be the only one who would ever use it. I mean SOME DAY humanity has to be ready for it. I already knew we could teleport an entire ship to one of a few possible destinations.”

“A few?”

“Yes. Quantum is precise, but somewhat unpredictable. It’s how the machine works. You place teleportation mats down, and the particle gets beamed to one of three different mats. If you try to force cohesion to a single location, the results are…” Feynman split into a few more replicates, and held his ands out in demonstration. “...unpleasant.”

[b][i]“This could be part of why the Government didn’t want to go with teleportation in the first place.” [/b][/i] Isaac thought to himself, but kept quiet. [b][i]“One in three locations.”[/b][/i]

“What’s even more unpleasant is what happened to the whale.”

“Whale?” The hits kept on coming.

“Yes. Conservation of energy. Nothing comes from nothing. And a ship is a very big thing. So when they positioned the Eldridge, they also herded a number of whales. One swam over the “fuel” mat to power the machine and... Pfft!”

“You’re killing whales?”

“What? No. That was just for the demonstration for government heads, unless they see something on a big scale like a ship they struggle to see the practical applications, even if it would be more practical for direct bomb delivery. But yes… for ship we had to use a whale. Like I said. Unpleasant. Regular people it’s easier to power by other organic material though. Particularly sugar. It makes the mathematics simpler.”

“Sugar?” Now Isaac was even more confused.

“Yes, sugar would make for relatively simple mathematics. The number of kilojoules or calories necessary to generate macroteleportation of a certain organic mass on the teleportation mat. You calculate the energy required to re-construct said mass and balance it by providing the equivalent energy level in sugar bags on the fuel mat. Now obviously you overestimate a little, because it’s better than the alternative… although I guess that would be one quick and easy way to assure weightloss.”

Isaac stared blankly.

“I jest, of course,” said Feynman “I mean… you’d be losing weight everywhere, including vital organs. It would be very unpleasant.”

A thought crossed the Vigilante’s mind. “Why are you telling me this?” He said.

The older man went on. “I mean, take you for example. You would weigh approximately 165lbs. Let’s throw your clothes and equipment in… round it up… 180lbs. Now assuming you don’t have any alcohol in your system… or any excess fat beyond the average, which certainly doesn’t seem to be the case – kudos for that, by the way – you probably have around 12% lipid, 20% protein and 0.4% other organic compounds. You know… whatever sugars are in your blood presently.”

“Why are you telling me this, Feynman?” Isaac repeated, firmer now.

“So if we take the lipid portion… 12% of that overestimated 180 is around 21.6 pounds of fat. Convert to kilograms to make the mathematics easier, 9.8kg. Which should work out to about 88,200 calories in the fat stores… if we’re calculating high. The protein? 20% of 180 works out to 36 pounds of protein. Convert to kilos, 16.3kg roundabouts. Protein is 4 calories per gram, so we’re looking at about 65,200 calories in protein. Your organics? Probably around 2,400 calories in glycogen stores and your blood sugars… bump it up to 2,500 to play it safe though.”

“Feynman!”

“So basic arithmetic tells us 88,200 plus 65,200 plus 2,500 equal 155,900 calories… but again we’ll round up to 156,000 to play things safe. Given there’s an even 4,000 calories in a kilogram of sugar… Basically two 20kg bags of sugar should do the trick. See? Makes the math much easier!”

“FEYNMAN!”

The wide grin left the professor’s face. “Given that I have had to notify my superiors of the break in, there will be a routine sweep of the premises. They’ll find the second smaller device and I would be asked many difficult questions about it if it is found. Which it surely would be.”

“So you get rid of it. Destroy it.”

All presence of joy left the older man’s face. “No. We do not enter this field of endeavour to destroy our greatest creations. Honestly, some part of me is glad that this has happened. Already, I have had to spend too long allowing other men to stifle one of science’s greatest boons and allowing no good to come from its use... Just to let it sit in storage and never see the light of day. This is what has become of Richard Feynman! I will not allow this to be the fate of quantum macroteleportation! Not for one more day!”

“Alright, alright… calm down. You’ll blow a gasket.” Isaac urged, as the scientist had been yelling. “But why me?”

“Something tells me you could find use for it. You walk with the angels, but do not fly.” Then Feynman got to the crux of the matter. “Given my own experience I’ve learned something about people and my trust. I’ve learned I can trust a single person trying to do good a lot more than a group, even if their intentions are for the best. People are loud, obstinate, reckless, and often careless… A person though. A person is more likely to feel full responsibility for his decisions and actions. A person might not always do the right thing… do the smart thing. But generally, if they err, they feel responsible enough to need to fix their own problems. A committee will rationalise as part of the whole... justify their own input down and escape responsibility.”

Isaac started considering how he could put the device to use. “Alright, where is—“

“I already took the liberty of putting it in your pack.”

“You—?“

“Yes. See, I knew time would be of the essence, because I called my superiors the second I saw that you had come to. They have a remarkably quick response time so you should probably leave now. You see, they have other means for doing much the same thing…”

Just then Isaac heard a tearing sound, and swirling lights from the office cast dancing shadows across all the factory’s walls. Isaac had enough experience with portals to recognize it immediately. He drew his grapple gun and ran for the exit. The old man hadn’t left time for an argument. Feynman clearly had no interest in taking ‘no’ for an answer.

Meanwhile in the office, another Richard Feynman was waiting to greet his superiors. Franklin Delano Roosevelt rolled through the portal joined by the dark visage of a cloaked Richard Nixon.

“Mr Roosevelt… Mr Nixon.”

“It would seem that once again you have been of great service to our Nation, Dr Feynman.”

“How many of them were there?”

“Five. My duplicates will lead the way.”

“Only five? Against your good self? ‘Surely you must be joking, Mr Feynman!’” Richard Nixon exclaimed as he walked away, before erupting with deep-jowled laughter at his own joke.

“What—What’s he going to do to them?” Feynman asked FDR, as his omnipresent smile gave way to a pensive expression. Nixon's presence tended to have that effect on people.

“Men are not prisoners of fate, Mr Feynman, but only prisoners of their own minds...” Roosevelt told the physicist in an enigmatic deadpan, that did nothing to put Richard Feynman at ease.

The 4 other trussed up captives levitated and followed Nixon to the office where the fifth was. "You'll get nothing out of us! We'll give you nothing!"

"Arooooo! I'm not interested in anything you can give me..." Nixon's voice matching the darkness within his eyes. "What comes next will only be my taking, taking of something you will never get back."

"Nixon! What are you doing in there!?" called Feynman from outside.

"You're so damned concerned about the civilians, Henry, and I don't give a damn!"

"Richard." corrected Feynman.

"Whatever be damned!" barked Nixon. "I believe in the battle... whether it's the battle of the campaign or the battle of this office, which is a contuing battle!" With a flourish of his hand, the office door slammed shut.

"Now you crooks listen here..." a dark maelstrom swirled behind Nixon as his cloak billowed in winds there could have been no natural for. "Your minds were gone the second you stepped in here..."

"Whoa! Wait!" One of the five called out, cracking under the terrifying pressure of a Nixon starting to wind up his darkest magic. "I've changed my mind! We'll go with the other guy! To prison! We'll tell them everything!"

"Other guy..." Nixon thought to himself. "Feynman never mentioned another guy... What are you up to, you bongo-playing hippy?"

Nevertheless Nixon continued unperturbed. "Your minds must always have gone. Even while shaking hands when coming up with this plan and going through all the manouevres. I developed the ability long ago to do one thing while thinking about another. You, on the other hand, will now struggle with knowing how to swallow whilst eating..."

From outside the sealed office door, Richard Feynman could see the darkest black and brightest lights flickering from within the room in the crack under the door as Nixon did his terrible deed.

Minutes later the door swund open and Nixon strode out followed by 5 levitating felons, all drooling.

"It's clean." said Nixon. "The plans were still safely locked away in the safe. I did a magic sweep of the lock. No key has been used since our last visit."

"Excellent." Replied FDR. "It would seem that once again we have nothing to fear but fear itself."

Another portal tore open and Nixon strode through the vortex, dribbling criminals in tow. FDR rolled towards the gateway, but stopped and wheeled around to address Feynman. "I know that you will struggle with what happened here today, Richard. We often have tough decisions in this world today. I only ask that you judge us by the enemies we have made."

With that he chomped down on his cigarette holder and wheeled his way through the portal.

---

Isaac sat in full recline, in the living room of his Little Ulster house. Lit only by the television's glow as he watched the nightly news throw everything he'd neglected to deal with in his face as he "wasted" his time setting himself up. To the right of his Lay-Z-Boy rested two bottles; the remains of the two six packs of Carters Sparkling Ale he'd been pumping. The nightly ritual of draining beers until his body would numb enough to allow him to sleep.

Whilst he never felt the pain he accrued from his alter-ego's activities it nonetheless kept him awake at nights, staring at the ceiling unable to sleep unless he medicated himself. Beer, he found, worked as well as anything, he liked the taste and it was easy to get ahold of. Even if Carters didn't export to the US, it wasn't a problem for Isaac anymore.

An archer is critically wounding criminals across Lost Haven... Giant frigging craters which had War-Pulse's brand of reckless endangerment written all over them... Icon had sorted out Hybrid... New York seemed to be investing in whatever crazy pills Lost Haven had been downing in steady supply as there had been strange sitings and goings on across the city - even the Museum of Natural History. If Isaac didn't have his own experiences of how crazy this world could be he'd doubt it himself... Out West Pacific Point seemed to be having its own craziness as well. In fact he'd almost interfered when he heard the name Blue Blur come to the surface, but the situation resolved itself before it came to that. Still, it was a curious and noteworthy point of mention, Isaac once considered seeking out Blur amongst others when he found himself on this world but then he decided against it...

The screen crackled with static, before the silhouette of a mysterious figure came into view.

“People of America, we find ourselves at the precipice. For far too long, our elected leaders and those who have been put into place to protect us from the threats that we face have failed to act. Instead, they have sat idly by and watched as freaks in capes, mages and monsters have taken the security of this world into their own hands. For the most part, the people have accepted the rule of gods amongst us, at the detriment of humankind.” The man in shadows spoke through a voice modulator, pausing to allow his words to find their mark with dramatic effect.

“But let me ask you, how long? How long before these so call saviors decide that playing hero is not enough? How long before they turn their powers against us?” The man asked, again pausing for effect.

Isaac sat in silence and absorbed every word, another swig of beer his only distraction.

“We cannot sit by and wait for these beings to decide that it is time that rushing to our aid and solving our problems is no longer prudent. We cannot wait for them to decide that it is us, the human race, that is the problem. And we can no longer wait for institutions that have been put into place to protect us from such a cataclysm to follow their charter and do what must be done. So we have taken it upon ourselves to take the necessary steps to protect all of humanity from the threat of the meta humans and all of their ilk. Tonight, we have completed multiple, simultaneous operations against known threats. We have also eliminated the organization known as STRIKE, for their failure to act against hostile forces. We will no longer tolerate the meta human threat to our world, nor those who support them. We will continue to act, until all meta humans, as well as those who provide material aid or support for their kind, are wiped from the face of the Earth.” The man paused as he leaned toward the camera, however, even as he moved closer to the camera, his face remained obscured in shadow.

“Inaction is no longer acceptable. We are the last line of defense against these monsters, and we will not rest until every last one of them is eradicated. We are here, we are everywhere. We are the… HOUNDS OF HUMANITY.”

Static, and then returned to regular programming. Where the news anchor who was previously providing news coverage sat in stunned silence for a few seconds before gathering herself. She continued the original story for a few seconds, presumably stalling whilst the network came up with a graphic for the most recent event. Then at that story's conclusion they immediately went to what was now the current biggest story.

The only thing that would be on the 24 hour news cycle for the coming days... The Hounds of Humanity.

Isaac flicked the tv off and sat in darkness.

"I bet I'll get dragged into this..."

Zac paced away from the circle where the four other girls were sitting. While he did care about helping out those who were affected by the incident in Washington Park, watching Sammy and Kelly paint Jeanette’s avian talons as if they were just human nails was not quite what he had in mind. It also did not help that he was the only person in his superhero costume instead of civilian clothes, making him appear more like a superpowered bodyguard rather than someone who was attending the support group. What would they do if the Hounds of Humanity would strike during the meeting? Sure, Zac, Kelly, and Sammy were not rookies anymore, but they have never faced a threat like the Hounds.

When the door to the classroom that they were using swung open, Zac unsheathed the three claws in his right knuckles. If the person who was walking in were an extremist from the Hounds, Zac’s speed would give him enough time to close in on that individual before that guy could get off a round of fire. However, instead of finding someone decked in tactical gear, a man wearing a black jacket and jeans stood in the doorway. His t-shirt had an AC-DC graphic printed on its face.

“Woah, now. I’m just here for the meeting,” The man exclaimed while raising his hands above his shaved head. However, when he noticed that there were four girls in the room with Zac being the only guy, the man grinned. “I half expected this to be a sausage party. Glad I was way wrong.”

“So, what’s your powers?” Zac demanded, checking to make sure he’s actually here to take part in the support group. He knew that his tone probably made it seem more confrontational than it needed to be, but they could not afford to let their guard down with the Hounds at large.

“Well, my name is Darren, first of all.” Darren said since Zac asked him about his powers before his name. “For my powers, well, they’re kind of contradictory. While I can breathe underwater, swim better than I could, etc., I can also do this.

Darren held his hands out in front of him. A small flame appeared in the palms of both of his hands and nestled itself there. He then clinched his hands, which caused the flames to be extinguished.

“When have you ever seen water and fire powers mixed together? Weird, right?”

However, before anyone could comment on Darren’s powers, they all heard a window on one side of the classroom shatter, which showered the floor right behind where the four girls were sitting with glass. A small, spherical object had been lobbed from the ground in front of the building through the broken window. It struck Taylor in the back of the head. However, instead of ricocheting off her and falling to the ground, Taylor’s powers absorbed the device into her body.

“What just hit me?” A faint silhouette of the spherical object cold be seen through her semi-translucent skin while it slowly descended down from her neck to her stomach, as if it were going through the digestive system that she no longer had due to her powers.

But the six metahumans soon found out what the device was when it exploded, spattering the room and the people inside of it with the slime-like substance that Taylor’s body consisted of. The room was filled with the screams of the three girls, first because they thought they were done for. After they realized that the explosion had not killed them, they were then more freaked out because they were now soaked in what used to be their Taylor.

“It’s in my hair!” Sammy complained. “I knew karma would get me for stepping on her!”

“Your hair? What about my wings.” Jeanette said while beating her wings to fling off the goo in her feathers.

Meanwhile, the slime began to congregate back together, crawling back into a single pile. Even some of the goo that had fell out the window scaled up the wall so that it could reunite with the rest of the mass. Once whole again, two egg-shaped ovals appeared in the little blob. When the color of these ovals changed in a way as if they looked like they were blinking, it was clear that they were supposed to be eyes.

“Are you alright?” Kelly asked what she assumed was Taylor. The little blob gave her a shrug, or at least as much of a shrug that her current form would allow.

“Looks like we have company.” Zac stated while looking out of the window. He saw several black-clad men, armed to the teeth with military-grade weapons, rushed into the entrance of their campus building. “Darren, I need you to trip the fire alarm. Just don’t burn down the building.”

The frantic stress of the situation momentarily paralyzed Darren. Most people will never experience a life-or-death scenario. The cozy lifestyle of the average person usually does not prepare them for such an experience. When inside the comfort of one’s own home, you can boast that you can handle danger, but once it happens, things quickly begin to become real. Once he had recollected himself, Darren grabbed one of the desks in the classroom and pulled it underneath the smoke detector. He jumped up onto the desk and pulled a one dollar bill from his wallet.

“Why must there not be any paper?” Darren muttered under his breath before igniting the green currency in his palms. He held up the smoking remains of the dollar over his head as close to the smoke detector as he could. It only took a few seconds before the fire alarm began to ring.

Meanwhile, Kelly removed the empty trash bag from the wastebasket in the classroom and set the trash can on its side in front of Taylor. The little slime blob peered at the container, then at Kelly, then back to the container. She then oozed her way into the can and, when Kelly stood the trash can upright, Taylor’s “eyes” resurfaced at the top. Afterwards, Kelly picked up the trash can, with Taylor still inside of it, and shoved it into Sammy’s arms.

“Jean will fly you two over to the next building’s rooftop. I’ll take the two boys.” Meanwhile, Zac was sliding open a window open on the opposite side of the room, the side without the broken window.

“I’ve only flown once!” Jean warned Kelly. “I’m not ready to carry someone at the same time!”

“You better learn quick,” Kelly asserted. She then turned her attention back to Sammy, who was giving her a look as if she wanted to beg her best friend to take her instead of Jean. Nevertheless, Kelly nudged her to the window and tried to console her that she would be standing right here, just in case.

“You’ve leapt off a building before. You should be fine!”

“But that was with Lyger!” Sammy said and she immediately turned toward Jeanette. “No offense.”

“None taken.” Jeanette answered Sammy.

First, they helped Sammy up onto the ledge outside of the window. Once outside, Sammy clinched her eyes shut while pressing her back against the side of the building and holding onto the waste basket as if her life depended on it. Next, Zac and Kelly helped Jeanette up onto the edge of the window. She beat her wings several times before she took off. For a second or two, she hovered in front of the window and then rose up and landed on Sammy’s shoulders.

“Ready?” Jean asked Sammy. She could feel Sammy’s nervous trembling through her avian feet.

“No.” Sammy replied. Despite this response, Jeanette took off. At first, they rapidly fell towards the ground, which caused Sammy to scream out her lungs. It took all of Jeanette’s strength to get the two (or three, if you count Taylor) of them flying again instead of falling. Even once they were moving upward, it did not stop Sammy from continuing to scream.

“It sounds like we better get going.” Zac recommended once he heard the clatter of running footsteps that were coming in their general direction. Kelly took the cue and took a hold of both Zac and Darren. There was not any time left for them to climb on the ledge one at a time. Instead, Kelly dove out of the window back first while she still had a grasp on Zac and Darren. Her wings began to buzz back and forth right when they went out the window. She flew in a “u” shaped motion as she built up enough momentum to allow her to fly up to the next rooftop while carrying to young adult men.

Once the three metahumans landed on the rooftop, they found Jeanette and Sammy sprawled on the ground while they tried to catch their breaths. In addition, Sammy had already pulled her cell phone out from her pocket and was talking to someone on the other end of the line.

“This isn’t the time for…” Kelly began to complain, but Sammy cut her off by placing her index finger over her mouth. Sammy then continued to talk into her phone.

“We’re at Adams Hall. Please hurry!” Sammy said. Zac and Kelly guessed that she must have dialed 9-1-1 as soon as Jeanette landed on the rooftop.

Suddenly, a bullet whirled past Kelly’s shoulder, missing by only a few inches. The boom of the gunfire caused Zac to immediately pull Kelly to the ground, despite being shorter than his girlfriend. Darren followed suit and hit the ground so that he too would not be in firing distance.

“Yes, that was gun fire.” Sammy cried into her phone to the 9-1-1- operator.

Ben's hand inserted the key card into the security slot and swiped it down. Immediately the machine beeped, acknowledging their arrival, and the door clicked open. He promptly pushed the handle down then shoved forward. The door glided open revealing the lavish interior of the Hilton suite they would be spending the week long vacation within.

He rolled his bags into the first room as he eyed the elegance of the room. A a slight checker patterned dark and light carpet spread throughout the main living area to the bedrooms, the edge stopped just short of the dark tile leading to the full kitchen. His vision brushed by the queen-sized sofa facing the entertainment stand holding the 32-inch TV, and DVD player likely connected to the hotel’s net.

His left arm held straight the door open as he turned back to Katarina, watching her follow him through.

So many confusing emotions stirred within him and surfaced almost immediately causing him to inhale to sooth his inner conflict. Ben’s right arm rolled his luggage to the wall where he left it. The desire to drive the discomfort from his mind stirred him to examine the rest of the room as he went from the main living area into the full kitchen. His feet tapped along the hard floor and studied the large refrigerator, his hand opened the metal door to reveal it to be rather empty.

“Looks like we might have to go grocery shopping before too long. Else we’re not going to have much to eat,” Benjamin stated, as he clicked it shut. Gradually he moved back into the main living room to see how Katarina was adjusting to the perks of the modern world. He already had informed the twins, White Witch, Rune and Otto he had arrived while waiting at the airport for their luggage, but still didn't know where they wanted to meet at.

Working the wrench with two hands, Angel twisted the last bolt into place, and wiped the sweat off his brow. The garage still got hot in the heat of the day, even after Angel had repaired the broken air conditioner. Standing up, and wiping the grease and oil coating his hands on his 'work shorts', he gave the car a once over with his powers, and nodded, satisfied.

Rolling out from under the sports car, Angel let the lift down as he stood up, stretching, and cracking his knuckles. This sports car had been an easy fix (at least for someone like Angel,) only needing some transmission repair. Walking over to his phone, which was playing music, he paused the song, and turned on speakerphone, calling the owner of the car.

"Yeah, your car is ready. You can pick it up anytime you're ready." The reply came back, effusive and warm. "Thanks! I was really worried about it! What was wrong with it?" Shifting in place, Angel grimaced at the attempt at conversation. It wasn't really his forte, but he would try and be polite.

"It was just a transmission issue. Shouldn't cost too much, as it didn't take me long to repair it." The woman on the other end thanked him again, to which Angel shrugged, even though the action couldn't be conveyed over the phone. "Seriously, don't worry about it, we can discuss the cost when you next come in." Thanking him one last time, the woman hung up, after promising to be there soon.

Sighing, Angel looked at the car, and rubbed the back of his neck. He still wasn't used to all the human interaction necessary for this cover job. Laying low is tough work. Luckily for Angel, the garage was out of the way, so he didn't get many customers. However, this one woman, her car, a higher-end sports car, kept having issues. Luckily for her, Angel didn't really need the money, so the repairs were cheap. Unfortunately, this meant he had a repeat customer, which meant it was a constant struggle to maintain his cover. Angel didn't know if she were just a bad driver, or if her car was just shitty for its model. Either way, he had become quite intimate with the inner workings of the vehicle over the last few weeks.

Putting his tools away, and lowering the vehicle lift, Angel walked into the front, and sat in his office chair, behind his desk. Reclining in the pleather seat, leaning back, Angel was about to put his feet up on the desk, when the door opened, ringing the bell. Sighing, he looked up at the customer, and asked, "Can I help you?"

Unfortunately, Angel got his answer in the form of a gun pointed at his face. The man holding the gun in question was dressed in body armor, like that of a SWAT team, but with a unique patch on the arm, instead of the expected LHPD SWAT one. Covering his face was a gas mask, obscuring his facial features.

Reacting quickly, Angel kicked backwards, forcing himself to fall over in the chair, as a shot rang out over his head. Reaching out with his power, he made the gun jam, and the magazine unload itself from the pistol. Scrambling to his feet, Angel fumbled for the machine pistol in his desk drawer, and pulling it out, and aiming it at the intruder before he could figure out what was going on with his gun.

A nervous thrill running through him, Angel spoke, motioning to the handgun with his own pistol. "Who are you? Why did you roll up into my place like a gangbuster?"

The figure, however, stayed silent, and Angel, frustrated, repeats the question. "I said, who. Are. You?"

The man, with audible amusement in his voice, even through the filter of a gas mask, chuckled.

"A distraction."

And that's when Angel noticed the RPG flying into his front office.

“I’ve got you.”

Chris pressed one of the metallic hands of his Iron Knight armor against the back of the last police officer who had been trapped on the ceiling by Newton. His other hand was slicing away the spider silk that Arachne had used to prevent the officer from falling to his death. Once he had severed the last strand keeping the man tethered to the roof, Chris swung his free arm around and caught the man’s legs. Now that he had secured the last officer, Chris began to descend to the ground.

An applause from the crowd attending the charity event erupted once Chris touched down and released the police officer. Photographers had already set up shop around his expected landing site and immediately captured the moment with their digital cameras.

“It was nothing,” Chris said to the crowd, “Just doing my civic duty.”

“Can we take pictures with you in your armor?” Someone in the crowd shouted out.

“This is a very dangerous piece of equipment. I would not be surprised if the U.S. government would consider it a Weapon of Mass Destruction,” Chris replied. “But I consider myself at least a somewhat responsible person. But I have to make sure one more hostage is safe before we do any pictures.”

“Don’t worry. I got her.” Chris turned towards the staircase that lead to one of the outdoor balconies, where he found Maya standing next to Arachne. The drideresque superheroine had also carried in Newton, who had been tied up with Arachne’s spider silk and was still knocked out. Maya dashed down the stairs, pulling the bottom of her dress away from her feet so that she would not trip and fall flat on her face. Arachne followed behind her, but at a walking pace.

When he saw Maya running in his direction, Chris immediately activated the exit protocol that allowed him to get out of his armor. Almost like clockwork, various pieces of his armor slide open and allowed him to step out of the power suit. Chris had switched into the sleek flight suit that he would normally wear in the armor before he began his rescue effort for the police officers. He opened up his arms and embraced Maya when she jumped into his arms.

“We haven’t always seen eye to eye, but thank you for saving Maya.”

“I would be a bad superhero if I refused, wouldn’t I?”

While he was still embracing Maya, Chris stretched out his arm towards Arachne. She hesitated for a moment, but eventually she accepted Chris’ handshake. After this thankful gesture, Chris placed his arm around Maya’s shoulder and walked back towards his Iron Knight armor.

---

For the next hour or so, everyone was crowding around Chris, trying to take turns taking pictures with his armor. While I did get a few photo requests, although some of them couldn’t tell the difference between me and Spider-Man, almost everyone’s attention was on Chris. Not that I really minded that. In fact, this situation gave me the perfect opportunity to sneak out. While everyone’s camera was pointed at Chris, I began my escape. However, I was unfortunate enough to have been spotted by one person.

“You really thought you could sneak out of here without me noticing?” I turned around and found Emily hurrying up the stairs to catch me before I left. It did not surprise me that she was still dragging me (or rather the decoy that Athena had created) around with her. In the hand that she was not using to grab onto my duplicate’s wrist, Emily held the same autograph book that she had asked Chris to sign earlier that night. When she caught up to me, Emily offered the book to me.

“Do you mind?” Emily asked.

“Um…I guess it wouldn’t hurt.” I pulled the book out of my friend’s hand, signed my superhero handle on one of the empty pages, snapped the it shut, and handed it back. However, once Emily got the book back, I suddenly realized that I goofed up big time. I made no conscious effort to change my handwriting. While I was smart enough not to write my real name, the “A” and “R” might be just enough to raise some awkward questions.

“Are you okay with a picture, too?” Emily then inquired. I hesitated at first, since I had already made one mistake already by not altering my handwriting when giving an autograph. But since Emily was my friend and I felt I could trust her, I caved and agreed to being photographed.

While Emily searched for someone to take a picture of the three of us, I got to get a good look at the duplicate that Athena created. I still can’t believe how real she looked. Even I might have been fooled by it, and I’m the original! When I took another look at the dress that I had picked out for this charity event, it brought back Maya’s initial comment about me. God, did that dress really reveal that much cleavage? No wonder she thought I was a pornstar. Guess I’ll be benching that dress.

Once I had finished taking that picture with Emily and my copy (I need to remember to ask Emily for a copy of that image. It might be useful for plausible deniability that I’m not Arachne), I finally slipped out of the event and crawled up to the rooftop of a nearby building. Athena was standing there, waiting for me.

“So, is it time to switch places again with my cloud copy down there?”

“No.” Athena stated without looking at me. “You’re going to have to wait until she gets back to your apartment before it is safe to switch back.

“Wait. What? Why can’t we switch back? I mean, it is over a dozen blocks to the Viera apartment complex!”

“Let’s just say that the process of acquiring the apparition’s memories is quite the unpleasant experience.”

“And why did you not mention this before?”

“Rest assured, there won’t be any physical pain. You will just appear like you’re freaking out or having a seizure. I doubt you want that to happen in public.”

“Well, I guess I now know why you haven’t been generously using this to cover for me.”

Briley Patton took the card for Hound Dog, she had already spoken with her Board, even though the final decision fell upon her to make she at least wanted half of their approval before moving forward. It wouldn’t be easy and since the HoH have been targeting those who ally with Heroes it was a major concern, but one she and the board felt that they send a message to these criminals. Heroes are here to stay, and they cannot be terrorized any longer. Poseidon Energies will put its full weight behind the Heroes trying to support their endeavors. But first she needed Heroes on her side, Eva had brought her Hound Dog’s contact card, who best to stand against the HoH than a Hero publically affected by their organization’s naming convention. Taking hold of her luggage handle Briley departed from the Airport into Pacific Point to an awaiting car.

Dialing the number shown she pressed the phone to her ear as she rummaged through her bag looking for a compact.

As the phone rang Hound Dog looked at the number, it was an unknown caller and as he laid in the hospital bed after the nights surgery his right arm hung in a sling. His Mother had been in and out all morning and he lingered looking at the phone, but if someone was calling him there was a chance they needed help and he couldn’t afford to not answer. “Hey hey. You’ve reached the radical Hound Dog.”

Briley reached for her head, as she tried to justify a response to his greeting line. “Yes. Well then I am Briley Patton CEO of Poseidon Energies, I hear you aided in the cities defense. And I have some reasons myself to be grateful for that. I would like to thank you and discuss another matter I hope you could help me with.”

Hound Dog remained silent as the woman continued on, holding the phone to his ear by his shoulder.

“Poseidon Energies is moving forward in the face of change, S.T.R.I.K.E. has been crippled if not completely destroyed. Heroes will need further aid to take on there terrorists. One I hope we can provide. And I was hoping you could tour one of our facilities.”

Hound Dog had never met a corporate type, and only held vague stereotypes as to what they’d be like always looking for a profit or edge to inch forward ahead of their competitors. “I’d love too, but I’m kinda indisposed. Be a few days before they’ll let me out of the Hospital.” Though if there really was someone who needed help he’d have jumped out of bed pretty quickly.

“I was not aware. My sympathies, good to know it wasn’t anything serious. Perhaps we can schedule something in the next few days then, I’ll be in town for the week overseeing the final repairs done to the facility here.”

“I might come round to check things out, no promises though. Got my own duties once I’m well enough.” He replied unsure to even accept a tour, or what motives Ms. Patton might have.

“Quite understandable then. Hopefully you can visit. I do have a few things I would like to thank you for in person.” There was a brief moment of silence, as Briley pulled the phone away to end the call, before going through her contacts and bringing up another number she had saved.. With a ringing tone coming from the speaker she waited for someone to answer.

“Mr. Arthur is presently unavailable at the moment. This is his assistant, Minerva. May I ask who is calling?” A woman’s voice answered on the other line.

Briley responded promptly. “Briley Patton of Poseidon Energies. I would wish to speak to Mr. Arthur about a business venture. I hear he’s in Pacific Point at present, can a meeting be arranged?”

“Hold one moment,” Minerva told Mrs. Patton. After a few moments of silence, Minerva began to talk again. “He is scheduled to leave tomorrow morning, but since he’s using a private plane, I guess he could push that back a little.”

“That would be lovely. Is there a venue? I’d rather not meet in his hotel room, for obvious reasons.”

“Mr. Arthur does not own any real estate in Pacific Point. Do you have any recommendations?”

There was a brief Silence. As Briley’s car passed an old timey restaurant straight out of the 50s. “Perhaps I do. Have him meet me at this address.”

---

There was the clink of a spoon as Briley stirred in some creamer into her coffee. The shop had just what you’d expect from a Malt shop from days gone by, black and white tiled floors with red leather seats in every booth and stool. The counter was white with a black top. And Briley sat in a corner, waiting for Chris to walk inside. The walls had all sorts of memorabilia of muscle cars, photos even David Hasselhoff’s picture with the owner hung on the wall.

After an hour past the supposed meeting time, Chris finally walked into the Malt shop. He pulled off the pair of sunglasses that he was wearing and slide them into the pocket in his sports coat before he scanned the room for Briley. Once he spotted her, he strolled over to the table and took a seat.

“So, are you reliving the glory days?” Chris asked once he took his seat.

“Perhaps.” Briley said as she lifted her coffee, that had been continuously topped off to keep it hot. “Thought this was no where near fancy enough for your girlfriend to assume this was a date, though you never know. Still I am glad this turned out well last night otherwise I don’t think we’d be having this meeting so soon. Now I have a proposal Mr. Iron Knight. S.T.R.I.K.E. is gone, heroes are facing a new homegrown crisis. And Poseidon wishes to back heroes despite recent events. They have done much for society although their existence has created a power vacuum it is far too late to sweep it under the rug and erase them from the board.” There was a sip as Briley let some of this sink in before she continued.

“Now to prevent the Hounds from amassing far too great a power and to ensure villains do not run our streets we have decided to throw our lot behind the heroes providing them with support and assistance with stopping and catching villains. I’d like it if you could help us, a business partnership as it were. There will be profits, Poseidon is a business after all, but I wish to keep focused on aiding heroes over our bottom line though it doesn’t seem entirely possible to keep money out of the equation. As villain tech and powers could be a substantial boon for research opportunities. What is your opinion thus far?”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve already painted a bull’s eye on my back from the first day I worked with S.T.R.I.K.E. I have just as much at risk as the heroes who actually have powers. I’m not entirely proud of some of the things I did with S.T.R.I.K.E., but now that they’ve got no strings on me anymore, I’ve already had some ideas for helping out.”

“I have read what files I could, I imagine S.T.R.I.K.E. has the more, confidential and controversial ones in lockdown in some file cabinet in the Pentagon. Though I am not wholly concerned unless those files turn up something truly ugly. However given your hero status, I doubt that you’re the type who would murder innocent or have such horrid skeletons in your closet from inhumane acts. And I am assuming you’ve dug up information on my history, I fear for my niece, she is in a world she nor I fully understand. I wish to extend aid to all heroes to prevent mass casualties like what Icon recently faced; I do not think we could have done much to help him but there is always a possibility. I hope we can keep each other in check, provide aid and advance science. All while within the confines of the law.”

“Kids these days. They find a magical sword and they then believe they’re invincible,” Chris said. “But to get back on more serious matters, once I get back home, I intend on looking into these Hounds of Humanity. One of the local speedsters helped me catch some criminals who appear to be associated with the Hounds. They were gathering up metahumans. Whether they were doing this for human trafficking or collecting them as human weapons, I cannot say for sure.”

“Either way it cannot be good. I hope my niece takes care of herself out there I would tear down a city block by block if she were kidnapped by these Hounds. But do we have an accord? If so perhaps we can draft an official document later regarding business goals and operations. I’ve also reached out to see if a few heroes would be willing to throw their lot in with us. Wouldn’t hurt to have a few more well known heroes backing such a project.”

“Just get in contact with my people and we’ll finalize the details.”

“I hope things improve from here on out, by the way. You should take some pie with you, it’s quite delicious. I’m sure your girlfriend would love some.”

“I’m sure I can also find some at home. I guess this is where we part ways.”

"Come on people, let's get these moved sometime today!"

Sabrina Durante tapped her foot impatiently, her expensive heels clicking against the pavement, as the interns and workers ferried the barrels from the delivery truck into the warehouse. It was a fairly standard operation; carry in the boxes, label them in big black ink 'SRI', record them, then into storage they went, easy as pie. Sure it was unusual to see someone as important as a Director of Bioengineering there, but the students lucky enough to be working under the tutelage of the esteemed scientist didn't give it too much thought. Dr. Durante did have a penchant for micromanagement, and for this delivery in particular she didn't want anything to go wrong.

And the reason for that was making his away around the end of the cab to talk to her. He was a thoroughly (and intentionally) unremarkable man, whom Sabrina only knew by the name of 'Holt', and while she had no real idea what he did, Holt was certainly no delivery man. At least, not to his actual employers.

"How long is this going to take?" Holt demanded in hushed tones, casting a furtive glance over his shoulder. "You said you were ready to receive this shipment, I wasn't-"

"Patience, patience," Dr. Durante said calmly, keeping up her usual businesslike facade. "It needs to be done this way. It's only a simple delivery, after all. Nothing suspicious to be found, and nothing to connect us to one another." Having no real answer to that, Holt simply scowled and resumed his pacing around the truck, spinning around to look behind him every few steps.

"Jumpy aren't we?" Durante remarked as Holt trudged toward her again, her eyes never leaving her clipboard.

"Every right to be, after seeing...who we got this from," Holt snapped, pausing as he peered at one of the movers suspiciously. "And you know how delicate our operation is. D-Day's just seven days from now and command is-"

"Yes yes, I know, this is not the first time your people have come here," Durante grumbled. "Now shut up or you can tell your friends to find someone else to...do this," the doctor continued, disguising the last part of that sentence. She gave a stern look to one of the interns who slowed down to catch the conversation before hurrying away. "Not like you have a choice, anyway." Holt, either running out of points to make or simply tired of arguing with the doctor, begrudgingly fell into an angry silence, scowling as he returned to his patrol around the truck. Ah, the ignorant are so easy to influence, Dr. Durante thought to herself, her lips curling into a prideful smile.

"Hey, Miss Durante?" one of the interns called over. "We're almost done, just doing one last headcount."

"About time," Dr. Durante said, glancing at her watch. "Make sure the warehouse is locked when you finish I don't-"

The doctor winced as a tremendous roar ripped through the air, loud enough to rattle the windows on the nearby buildings. It sounded like the motorcycles that ninja gang drove around, but much louder and, as Durante quickly realized, quickly getting closer. Within three seconds, three massive motorbikes, not the sleek and slender type but the big American ones, tore around the corner and screeched to a halt in front of the warehouse. Durante saw Holt freeze in his tracks as three heavyset bikers, decked out in leather and spikes, their faces hidden by bike helmets and black bandanas, dismounted from their hogs. Durante slid behind the back of the truck for cover as she saw them draw guns and approach the vehicle.

"You squids think you can steal from us?" one of the burly bikers shouted. "Any dogs steal from us, they get put in the fucking ground!"

Durante pulled her head in just as the bikers started shooting. Some of the workers screamed as bullets cut through the air, smashing glass windows and punching through the walls of the truck. There was a loud bang and the truck listed to one side just before half of the shooting stopped.

"Fuck, fuck, they got Beardy! We need more guys!"

Durante dared to peek out of cover just in time to see two bikers running back to their bikes, the third dead on the ground. Holt calmly stepped out of cover and fired three times, his shots landing in the back of another attacker, who collapsed in a heap against his hog. The last biker swore in manic terror as he hopped on his bike and screamed away. Holt didn't fire, but Durante saw the biker jerk his head back, a splash of red briefly visible before the bike careened off and slammed against a wall.

"Nice shot Owl 2, keep an eye out for any friends of theirs," Holt reported an unseen ally, his hand held to his ear before turning back to Durante again. "Alright there, ma'am?"

"A-are you insane?" Durante spat back, her face taking on a red tinge as she glared down at him. "I thought you said you people covered your tracks! How the hell are we supposed to explain this to Silver River?"

"Simply a failed attempt at a robbery, that's all," Holt explained, making a calming gesture with his hands. "We'll clean the bodies up, and the police won't suspect a thing. You'll have your precious lab back to work in no-"

"Miss Durante, Miss Durante!!!" Holt backed up in alarm as one of the interns ran up to the pair of them, going so fast that he nearly bumped into her. "M-miss...we don't know what happened, there were bullets flying everywhere, we took cover, there was a crash and-"

"Did you idiots break something?!" Durante snapped back, just as fiercely as she did with Holt a second ago.

"I don't...miss...it's Maddy, she-"

"You're going to ruin everything!" the doctor shouted as she pushed past the intern into the warehouse. Her eyes filled with anger, she shoved past the workers gathering at the opposite end of the warehouse and shoved her way through. Opening her mouth to fly into a furious rant, she stopped dead in her tracks as the color drained from her face at the sight of the latest delivery.

Madeline Fen Ming was lying in one of the remnants of the tanks, the clear viscous fluid within spreading onto the floor around her. She turned her green, tear-filled eyes towards Durante, looking almost as pale as the doctor.

"Oww...it h-hurts...

A dark spot was spreading on her chest, and something red was beginning to stain the clear liquid.

-----



"Good morning! You're looking much better today, Miss Ling."

"Thanks doctor, and please just call me Maddy."

"Yes, now let's see your chart," the doctor continued absently, picking up the clipboard attached to the bed. Smiling, Maddy continued finished opening her mail. Another 'Get Well Soon' card, this one from her favorite professor back home. She reached over, struggling to work her way around the IV and sensors on her arms, and set it up in the small forest of cards she already got, right in the shadow of an oversized greeting card from her coworkers at Silver River. Even her boss Miss Durante had signed it, making sure her own name was twice the size of everyone else.

"I must say, considering the state you were in I'm pretty impressed that you've made such a speedy recovery," the doctor commented. "Bullet went right through, no lasting damage to your vitals, the worst of it was blood loss..."

"Yeah, my brother called and said I should buy a lottery ticket."

"While I can't prescribe that, I wouldn't say it's a bad idea either," the doctor responded with a laugh, flipping over a page before finishing his reading. "In the meantime, I think you're healthy enough to be sent home. Just be sure to eat healthy and drink plenty of fluids and you'll make a full recovery, and if you feel anything worse then a bit of fatigue don't hesitate to come back, okay?"

Maddy smiled again, eager to get out of this stuffy hospital and back to work. "Loud and clear, doctor,"

"Excellent, I'll send the nurses right over and we'll get you discharged."

Fifteen minutes later Maddy was riding the elevator alone to the ground floor, happy to be back in her favorite jacket (which she had been fortunate enough not to wear that night) and comfortable clothes again, her greeting cards stuffed into her folded laptop under her arm. She had baffled her coworkers who came to visit when she insisted on continuing her work for Silver River while she still had an IV and was barely conscious, but Maddy didn't mind so much. She would have gone stir crazy if she wasn't productive, and working on her writings in between playing Civ4 just wasn't going to cut it. It would be nice to return to the lab and get moving again, Maddy figured.

Rolling her shoulders to soothe her aches, Maddy felt something pop near her back. Suddenly concerned, she quickly took her jacket off to get a good look at herself in the reflective elevator wall. Wondering if there was a stitch somewhere that she didn't know about, Maddy considered going back upstairs before she noticed the real culprit: her jacket had burst a seam. That was odd. Slightly confused, Maddy put her jacket back on and noticed for the first time that it was feeling a bit more...snug then usual.

"Great, I probably gained weight or something," Maddy said aloud just as the doors opened. Feeling a bit glum, she nevertheless strode out the door and made her way to the front desk, where her ride was waiting for her.

"Hey, Mads!" came a voice tinged in a Bulgarian accent.

"Yavor!"

"Correct!" Yavor Valeriev said with a laugh as she came in for a big hug. The secretary at the front desk gave the pair of them a confused look before prompting Maddy to sign her discharge papers.

"Sorry I couldn't visit, the institute had me tied up so much I couldn't get out," Yavor explained apologetically. "Did you get the card I sent?"

"Yeah, and I got the bruise you gave me from that one civ game we did," Maddy said in joking anger, aiming a light punch at him. "The praetorian rush is SO cheap..."

"Hey, when you have a legion, everything else looks like a barbarian," Yavor said innocently.

"Oh shut it."

The pair of them made their way to Yavor's car, all the while chatting about games they played and the things they were working on for Silver River.

"Alright, back to the labs right...uh, Mads?" Yavor asked, waving his keys for emphasis before he got into the car. Maddy frowned slightly, her interest caught by the odd pause.

"Something wrong, Yavor?" she asked him.

"Nothing...besides, it's silly."

"Aw come on, tell me," she continued to pry.

Yavor gave a dramatic fake sigh. "Fine if you insist...I was just thinking that you looked a bit...taller then usual, is all."

"...what?"

"I told you it was silly," Yavor said defensively as he started the car, not before catching onto her sudden silence though. "You haven't been getting taller, right?"

"Why, are you feeling threatened?" Maddy asked, spinning her pause into a quick joke and punctuating with a evil chuckle. "Better watch out Yavor, or soon I'll be the tall one!"

"But I'll still be better at Civ4!"

"Damn it!"

The two of them broke into laughter as Yavor pulled out of the parking lot, and as the car turned towards the Institute, Maddy quietly shifted her seat back. She needed some more leg room.