Location: Sherman Square, Lost Haven

The mechanized suits the Hounds used seemed to be similar in that there was a person underneath, completely relying on the outer metal shell for defensive and offensive purposes, but it would seem that would be where the similarities ended. They were a few meters larger than him, and they appeared to have no reservations about using their military grade weapons in the city. Even Richard kept most of his weapons aiming up and away from buildings.

But in between dodging weapons fire and brawling with Hounds he managed to catch a glimpse of Iron Knight and his own fight with another Hound in a similar looking suit. The end of the fight anyways, Iron Knight shot a cable around the other man, and quickly flew off somewhere.

“He has a cable too, is he copying us?” Richard jokingly spoke into the helmet.

“He’s more famous than we are, at this point it would seem like we’re the copy cats. But our cable might have a few more features than his.” Artemis replied; the pixel face at the bottom of his screen changed into a wink for a second before switching back.

“Where's he taking him?” Richard asked as he quickly shot a glance over his shoulders, making sure his immediate area was cleared.

“Hhmm, judging by all the radio chattter I’d say he dropped him off at HQ.”

“That’ll keep them busy, hopefully that’ll keep them off our backs a little longer.”

“Are you worried they’ll see us, a little late don’t you think?”

“Oh they’ve seen us already.” Richard replied as panned his vision across the square, catching a good look at several traffic and security cameras.

“I just want to know if I’m going to get yelled at today or tomorrow.”

Iron Knight returned to the square a few moments later, announcing to everyone that he’d found the satellite, and that the space capable heroes should get to work.

“Artemis, can we-“

“Don’t even think about it.” Artemis anticipated what he said and curtly cut him off. But of course he had to ask, who didn’t want to go to space, to see if it was anything like the movies, to see what the Earth looked like from high above. Although, currently the armor didn’t have anywhere near the thruster power to escape atmosphere so space was a little untouchable right now. Besides, if he wanted to go to space he should have become an astronaut. Then Iron Knight mentioned that he had found the main base, and that was something he could do.

“If my readings are correct, the Hounds have a base located on the waterfront of the nearby suburb, Carver. If someone here can’t fly or have some other form of transportation, you should pair up with someone who can. We need to strike quickly or all of this will be for not.”

Carver? I guess that’s nearby… if you can fly. Richard thought as he looked longingly at certain flight capable heroes nearby, he stopped as soon as he realized, and hoped that everyone was too focused to care.

“We’ll be heading westward to Carver. For those who can’t fly, I’m going to make sure the traffic lights don’t slow you down.” After saying that Iron Knight then projected a map of Lost Haven showing the path they would take to the Hounds base, and where it was.

“We can keep up if we use the jets.”

“No way, that’s not what they’re for! If you try to push them like that all the way to Carver you’ll blow them out!” Richard instinctively jerked his head to the side as Artemis suddenly raised her voice.

“Well running’s out of the question, we’ll never get there.”

“You don’t have to go, Iron Knight is going, along with these other metas, and those ones in space might come back down to help too.”

“I didn’t become a cop to leave things to other people, and besides, I wouldn’t be able to sleep unless I personally get a chance at their boss.”

“Good answer.” Artemis said; Richard thought he heard a hint of approval in her voice, but for what, this was his job, and he imagined this was why she was made in the first place.

“…Mr. Hunter, you can switch the speaker on, yourself..” Artemis added after waiting a few moments.

“I...still think we can make good time with controlled boosts.”

“..There are plenty of flyers here, I’m sure one of them could carry you.” Artemis uttered again, but Richard continued to be adamant in his choice.

“We’re fine.” He continued to insisted.

“Now that we know where we’re going, let’s roll out.” Iron Knight apparently felt that was enough time to memorize the map. So Richard turned to move out, keying up the boosters on his back, they hummed to life then started whining to a sudden quiet.

“Artemis, what are you doing?” Richard turned his head as if he was addressing her, but he still only had that small pixel face at the bottom of his screen. A second later the microphone in his helmet clicked on, but not for him.

“Excuse me, is there anybody here that could give us a lift?”

Slipstream zipped through the dwindling numbers of Hounds of Humanity foot soldiers, punching, elbowing, kicking, and shoving thug after thug as she moved so fast that she was barely perceptual beyond a pink and purplish blur. The group metas had given the Hounds of Humanity more than they could handle, yet the fanatical murderers kept coming.

“These guys don’t know when to quit.” Slipstream said to no one in particular as she took a momentary breather.

“Tell me about it.” Radiance said as she landed a well placed kick to the temple of a nearby Hound before sending a jolt of electricity of another as he approached. “There!” Radiance shouted at Slipstream as she pointed out several more Hounds moving toward them.

In an instant, Slipstream was off. As she accelerated, the entire world slowed down around her. As she moved toward the incoming Hounds, it was as if everyone and everything around her was standing still while she moved around freely. As she raced towards the incoming Hounds, her mind drifted back to the hidden base that she and Arachne had busted up just outside of Pacific Point. The people trapped inside cages would forever be etched into her memory, as would the metallic smell of blood and viscera that permeated the lower levels of the hideout where the Hounds had executed countless victims. As the memories of the horrors that she had seen in that installation, Slipstream found new determination to make sure that something like that would never happen again.

So she ran right at them. She met the first of the Hounds with a right hook, then immediately went to the next, shoving him at supersonic speed. Then she followed that with a jumping judo kick to the jaw of the third Hound, then moved on to the next, and the one after him, and then another. After she had hit each of her targets, time itself seemed to speed up again, and each of the Hounds that she had assaulted were tossed and flung in all directions at once, as if they had been hit by some sort of force all at the same time. Pleased with what she had done, but knowing that there was still work to do, Slipstream looked back to Radiance who was dealing with her own problems.

A group of Hounds had flanked Radiance, and now she found herself surrounded. Ten of the jackbooted thugs had encircled her and were moving in with their weapons drawn.

“Time to put this freak bitch down.” One of the Hounds said as he raised his gun and aimed it at her head. There was a nod of agreement from a few of the others as they stopped advancing, their weapons leveled at her.

Suddenly, the air around her began to crackle with electricity. Radiance, and anyone else in the immediate vicinity could feel the hairs on their arms or the backs of their necks begin to stand on end, and suddenly, the heroine unleashed a powerful blast of electricity toward the encroaching thugs. However, there was something different about this bolt of energy, it almost seemed to be alive, to have a mind of its own as it danced around, striking each of the Hounds as if they were connected in some sort of devastating electrical chain. When the lightning bolt had run its course; each of the Hounds that had been advancing on her just a split second before, were now laying motionless on the street. The only sign of life was the slight raising and falling of their chests with each breath.

Soon after dispatching the Hounds, both Radiance and Slipstream turned their attention to Iron Knight, who had announced that they not only discovered the location of the satellite, and a small contingent of heroes, led by Icon had left the Earth to deal with it, but they had also found the Hounds hidden base near by. Iron Knight then gathered the troops and with the tech in his suit projected a map of the area, pinpointing the exact location of the base.

“That’s not far from here at all.” Slipstream said. “I can get there—”

“In a flash?” Radiance said in an attempt at levity.

“Jiffy.” Slipstream retorted. “I was going to say, 'in a jiffy.'” She said, and with a blink of the eye, she was gone, leaving only a slight rustle of wind in her wake.

---

Somehow, Bach managed to restrain himself for once. The four of them stood outside the magnificent yew tree resident in the faerie realms. It stretched impossibly high, the branches and piney leaves blocking out the sun, bearing a little fruit - poisonous red berries weighed down the branches. The air was mild, moisture present after the dry mountain air. The grass beneath their feet was soft and green, The Ambassador even removed her shoes to walk barefoot. Rare few saw this place. Bach often loathed to show this place to any mortals. He bit his tongue, not forgetting his most recent conversation with The Ambassador.

Magic was all around them, the spirit of the faerie realms was unlike no other. It sent goosebumps across The Ambassador’s arms, brought colour to her cheeks and slowly she rolled her shoulders. “Welcome to our home. Follow me.”

She stepped up to the door, announcing to the yew. “I, the Ambassador of the Fair Folk hereby welcome and honour my guests White Witch and her familiar Holt. They are permitted to enter this property.”

Prior to the invitation, Marie and Holt felt a heavy pressure, a compelling force that pushed them from the Yew’s presence, followed by a thick haze of obscure thoughts, either blinding them to the Yew, or pulling them deeper into Faerie. Holt was more accustomed to the charms and tricks of this world, fairing from a land not far, a dense wood home to other shades, wraiths, and creatures under the Witch-Father’s control. To Marie, however, it was a much more novel experience.

There was something familiar about this place, as if she had traversed these lands before, though Marie was unsure if it were a memory, or the subtle call of the witch-fire to the strange world from which it hailed.

”It’s beautiful,” Marie commented as she followed the Ambassador, voice brimming with adoration.

The Ambassador smiled nodding, holding the door open for the pair to enter. She followed behind them, and the interior was warm colours and wooden furniture. The walls following the natural curvature of the tree inside. All the creature comforts were present. The living room held two long well padded red cushioned couches. Reds - mahogany shades and deep rich browns were everywhere. Odette and Bach shared ownership of this home but it was in stark contrast to the antique, polished and classical themes of Odette’s apartment. Bach wanted to surround themselves in his element. At the windows poured greenery, potted plants and every corner was a plant. A spiral staircase circled to the upper floors, they passed it as they entered. The kitchen was just beyond the living room, unseen was the dining room behind the trunk.

“While my closet in Paris is far larger, the one here will have to do. Come White Witch we can get ready for dinner and you can relay everything I will need to know to pass a night with your parents.”

Marie sauntered past, casually looking over the Ambassador’s wardrobe as she listened, turning back at the continued mention of “The White Witch.”

”Well first, you can call me Marie. Marie Elizabeth Heartford is my full name. You already know one of them so you might as well know this one.”

Holt assumed the form of a cat upon entrance, relinquishing all of Marie’s belongings to the floor just outside the living area. He gave Marie a tired stare, fearing that mention of her name in such a place would cause unforeseen strife, but knowing that the Ambassador’s contract with Gwyneth prevented any such tricks.

Odette looked to White Witch - Marie, significantly. Another hurdle, true name revealed. She walked into the room, padding carefully along on the balls of her feet. She stopped at her vanity, “A pleasure to meet you, Marie Elizabeth Heartford. My name is Odette Favre. You understand the significance of sharing true names here. You can trust me with yours as I hope to trust you with mine.”

In the room was a large king sized bed neatly made up, three standing mirrors were beside the vanity and inside the closet was a lone floor to ceiling mirror as well.

”And my folks are . . . certainly a pair. A little overbearing, but they mean well. My mom’s Eliza Heartford, a history professor and research assistant at Northeastern University in Boston. She’s got two PhDs in History but I can’t remember what fields. I think one of them is pre-colonial America.”

Odette nodded along, understanding fully what entails of a pair of eccentric parents in the sciences.

Marie’s mother kept a library stocked with historical texts which she insisted her daughter read, always with a famous quote in mind or some long story about a historical event or indigenous peoples and their customs. Her study was overflowing with paintings and treasures kept by other great historians and important political figures, and every time Marie passed a display case or china cabinet in the home, Eliza made her recite some fact about from where it came, perhaps at the behest of her husband.

”My dad is equally as eccentric if not more so. Stephen Heartford is technically a cultural anthropologist, but he adores archaeology and finds the time and resources to tag along on any archaeological dig he can, and he always brings a souvenir home with him. Dad made me go through his classical learning phase with him. I took an at home pottery and sculpting class because he wanted to mimic Greco-Roman busts and vases.”

Eliza and Stephen Heartford were certainly good compliments to one another, both highly skilled in their fields and as extroverted as can be, which made it difficult to maintain a relationship with their daughter, who took after each of them in her own ways, but never appreciated nor developed their outgoing attitude and social prowess. In fact, Marie’s skill as a communicator came only through her work with Puck and her clientele at The Red Devil. Had she not risen to the occasion upon her tenure there, Marie might never had decided to go on such an audacious undertaking.

”When he isn’t traipsing around Europe and Central America, my dad will freelance as an appraiser and curator for a local auction house, and my mom occasionally brings him onto her research teams at the university.”

Odette sat astride the soft bench at the vanity, neatly smoothing out her dress. Bach came at the door holding a tray with a pot of steaming tea and small biscuits at the side. A few wedges of lemon, a tiny pot labelled honey, and a saucer for cream were tucked in beside it. “They sound like quite the pair. My parents are of similar vein, scientists studying to uncover the veils of the occult. Following folklore for their grains of truth. I am familiar with that personality type. How long has it been since you last seen them? Do they truly know nothing of your witchy life? Will we be imposing to simply drop in with less than a few hours notice?”

Marie was honestly surprised to see how candid Odette could be given the right setting. She hadn’t expected a name in return for hers, but if nothing else, she assumed the Ambassador would be one for tradition.

”How long?” Marie chuckled, sitting near to Odette and graciously accepting a cup of tea, ”I haven’t actually seen them in a little over two years. I spent the holidays last year working for Puck, and almost the whole of this year spent working as The White Witch, or looking for clues related to Gwyneth. We talk every now and again, but as involved as my parent’s liked to be when I was younger, they respected my privacy, and they were thrilled when I moved out, hoped I’d become a little more sociable in the city. They’ve left me to my own devices since then.

“As for the occasional moonlighting and witching in Lost Haven, no, they have no idea. The Bucca told me to keep my practice a secret. I hid it well. I think when I was around sixteen or seventeen, I ordered a couple of books from more contemporary authors that my mom might have seen, but even then, strange as she and my father both are, I doubt she’d think twice about it. And don’t worry, soon as I told them I was bringing a friend over, my mom went crazy.”

Odette turned to face herself in the mirror, stirring a small teaspoon of honey into the cup. Schooling her expression. Their similarities were clear, it sounded as if she still liked her parents though. In that they differed. “Bien. There will be plenty of good cheer to go around, easy enough to soar into their good graces and spend some time searching for Mind, the book may be in their library. If our luck holds.” Odette wondered briefly where she could challenge Marie in this outset. Perhaps stir some spirits in the house, invite mischief depending on how well they could host. “Feel free to pick out whatever you like, we are around the same size not accounting for hip or bust measurements but you will surely find something to your taste.”

She replaced her tea then went onto fiddle with her hair, “Do you miss your late night feats of heroism in Lost Haven?”

Marie rifled through Odette’s wardrobe, looking for something that matched her personal style, which, Marie soon found out, wasn’t nearly as defined as she had originally believed. One thing was certain, however, the Ambassador had far too many pastels. It took Marie quite some time to find an outfit she liked on herself, rather, pieces that she felt went well together, leaving a bit of an awkward silence while Marie contemplated her answer.

”Honestly?” Marie replied, slipping out of her own clothes behind a beautiful yet entirely cliche partition not far form the vanity. She naturally chose something black, a short dress with sheer sleeves, collar, and gown, each of which was decorated by a pattern similar to a fleur-de-lis. Atop this, she wore an olive, satin robe or shawl with intricate patterns on the outside, and small tassles lining the bottom hem. Marie traded her sandals for a pair of her own shoes, ankle-height boots with a pointed toe and raised heel.

”I’m not sure.” she continued, stepping out from behind the partition, combing her fingers through her hair and teasing it enough to make it look halfway styled. ”I didn’t mind some of the work I was doing. Puck sent me out on occasion to deal with minor nuisances and drum up business for the tavern. It helped me make a few connections, as did my work with contract holding clients. But the thing with Diplodoc and STRIKE,” Marie sighed, ”I was there because my employer told me to go. Big groups like that . . . Well, I’ve never been one for a group.”

Odette critically ran an eye over her outfit, then went to the vanity to pull free some makeup. “Mm. It sounds rather plain when you explain it. It wasn’t only your employer drumming you up to heroism, it was the local news media as well painting you as such. What he was truly hoping to accomplish always seems out of reach.”

“I’ve grown to hate that aspect of Puck.” She said, venomous as it was her tone hardly changed. She pushed a palette of eyeshadows her way, rising from her seat she motioned for her to sit. “If I were you, I’d simply have been driven mad by such frivolous labels.”

“Or did you believe you were the heroine they saw?”

Marie sat at the vanity, looking at Odette in the mirror.

”Yeah, you never get used to Puck and his ulterior motives. And to be honest, maybe I did. I don’t know, something in me wanted to believe that The White Witch was something special, something new that Lost Haven had never seen before. Maybe I got caught up in the hype, a little addicted to the limelight, although I would never do an interview or something like that, God no. I was addicted to being a mystery. It was fun.”

Odette considered the shades of lipsticks next, “Perhaps the mystery will lend well now to using it as a shield instead of showmanship.” She smiled in spite of herself, “The two are not mutually exclusive, having a flare for the dramatic as I do. It comes with the territory.”

Marie looked away for a moment, eyes heavy and contemplative. What was it that brought her to Puck’s side, that introduced her Joseph, that carried her through every battle? It certainly wasn’t heroism or bravery or any such virtue touted by the media and its so called “heroes.” No, Marie always felt drive, ambition, forward momentum. She considered that her current mission, her quest to find Gwyneth, brought her to this moment purposefully, that she was reminded of a past she’d long forgotten by friends who shared those ancient sentiments. Maybe her uncertainty stemmed from the life she’d known as Marie Heartford conflicting with the body and soul of Gwyneth Owens. The thought did little to comfort her, but it did bring something else to light.

”I really want to hate you,” Marie stated plainly, staring again at Odette in the mirror. ”There’s a part of me that’s screaming that all of this is wrong, that I shouldn’t be here right now, that I have every reason in the world not to be anywhere near you. But I know that I can’t, that I shouldn’t listen to it. Despite what’s happened . . .”

Holt looked to Marie, feeling her emotional strain. The battle that waged in her mind was unlike any he’d previously experienced. He feared she might break down, she might show weakness or anger, but to his surprise, Marie’s expression remained unchanged.

”Despite Joseph’s death, I can’t hate you, I just can’t. Strange as it might sound, it’s comforting to know that I have someone to rely on who understand me. Marie might still be upset, but Gwyneth knows that business is business. And if I did suffer multiple betrayals in the past, then it’ll be nice having someone who won’t - who can’t - betray me.”

“I would not have asked for forgiveness.” She said just as plainly, simplicity only found in truth.

Odette made eye contact with Marie in the mirror, she leaned over her shoulder speaking quietly. “It is strange, there is plenty to learn while we work together. You are pushing past a grudge for the objective benefit of gaining me as an ally shows potential. You are capable as Gwyneth to make something of yourself. Not designate to what Puck or the public may want from the likes of you. I have one more question.”

She paused standing back up, “You mourn the loss of your friend Joseph, he yearned for fame and recognition. Would he have approved of your quest for greatness?” She casted a look to Holt then returned to Marie. “Would he be attending family dinner with you instead?”

Marie smiled, allowing her fond remembrance of Joseph to overpower her grief.

”Joseph, when I first met him, reminded me of what I am. He let me be selfish, led me to a place where my talents would be fully appreciated and where I could thrive. Puck even confided in him about Gwyneth long before I knew anything about her.”

”A secret he loathed keeping,” Holt chimed in, boosting Marie’s spirits.

”Were he still here, yes, I would very happily be taking him home to meet the parents. But he and I couldn’t be objective when it came to the other. Fortunately, that won’t be an issue for us. You’re interesting, Odette, but I don’t care about you yet.”

Her last comment was said with more humor than disdain, a sentiment she felt the Ambassador shared.

Odette laughed, hiding behind a hand - genuine. “The feeling is mutual, your case is unique. Being born into the shoes of another instead of a foreign presence wrestling for control over your body. As for dinner with your parents you’ll look the part for once. Unfortunately it is difficult to paint lipstick on a mercurial golem, try as she does to be interested in makeup.”

She sipped at her tea, taking a bite of the biscuit patting her lips free of crumbs. “This will be fun.”

Marie laughed, letting slide the comment about her appearance, though it was to be expected from a French women with this standard of living.

”Speaking of your ten foot friend, where has . . . she, gotten off to? And how did you even come across, Mandate, right? Doesn’t seem like your handiwork.”

Bach brought a chair for her to sit by, “I found Mandate by complete happenstance if you are to believe it. Where she is - is a secret. Rest assured, her skills will not be needed as of right now.” She said, “You could say… it was a fated match?”

Bach audibly groaned.

………………………………….

New Jersey is quite a long ways away from atlanta, and while Eris and Charlton had settled their differences on where they wanted to head to, they still had to figure out how to get there. They both stared puzzlingly at the Atlanta bus charter, plotting out just when and where they would get off at.

“You know,” Charlton began. “This would be a lot faster if you had speedster powers.” Eris nodded.

“Yeah, but having the ability to make music by myself is pretty rad, too.” They said. “I just wish Mindy could see it. Have you heard back from her yet?” Charlton shook his head.

“Everytime I call, I get the answering machine and some man who calls himself Darius will ask to leave a message.” He explained. “Why haven’t you tried to call her, sir?”

“All my shit got wrecked the night I escaped. Of course, you weren’t there but…” They said. They sat in Radio Central’s break room, Max was not there, he was off looking for new supplies for the shop. “I’m almost certain you could hear it.” Charlton nodded.

“I did. I was watching the news when the Beatles started playing throughout the whole city.” He said. “Speaking of the news, I think we may have to leave sooner than expected. Did you know there’s a...Giant Woman in a Cheerleading outfit terrorizing some parts of the city?” Eris shrugged it off.

“Eh. It’s not our problem. Besides, it’s probably just some kind of movie stunt, or something. Anyway, the world’s a crazy place.” They leaned back in their chair. “You’re just gonna have to get used to it.”

“I suppose you’re right ma’am.” He said, sighing. “But, it still concerns me a little. I would rather not run into this...Giant Lady...person.” Eris laughed.

“Yeah, well.” They stretched their arms wide. “We’re going to New Jersey. And I need new clothes.” They looked down at the torn dress they wore. It was same one from the party a month ago, they never got a chance to change at all when they were in that room.

“Yes, shopping is in order.” Charlton said. “I suppose we can go right now, and reconvene back here in an hour.”

Eris stood up, and headed for the door. “It’ll take a while, I’m feeling like I want to wear something...bright.”

They walked down the street of east atlanta. It had been about a month since they escaped. Their mother had just about given up on tracking them down, and has officially renounced them as her daughter. As of today, they were officially 17 years of age, and while not legally allowed to be on their own, no one necessarily had to know that. They had grasped a little control over their powers, and now walking down the street with a small ipod they got from Max, they decided to test it a little.



There was a voice that would always sound in Eris’ head before the song they wanted to play started. They were still getting used to the robotic sound, and were a little freaked out when it happened. Part of the reason they wanted to call Mindy so bad was to ask her questions about Soundria and their powers, but Mindy Diasco had all but disappeared from Eris’ life.

As they walked down the sidewalk, music followed them colorful images formed themselves on the walls and below Eris’ feet that perfectly captured how this particular song made them feel. They don’t exactly remember what happened the night they escaped, but they did see videos of the damage they did from other people’s perspective. They also saw people reacting to the noise of their music from all over Atlanta. They’re pretty sure it made the news, and everyone just shrugged it off as a really, really loud party.

They got strange looks from people, some just assuming they were a girl who loved Daft Punk so much she listened to it on the loudest ipod in existence. Other’s didn’t even glance their way. The world was strange, in that there were superheroes and villains all over the country. Eris had never actually seen a superhero, and they remembered hearing something on the news a few years ago about a bunch of heroes tearing a town up, but they were too busy to process that.

Now that they had their own powers, they felt that maybe they could use it to help out a little. They were never going to reach the levels of Superman, but they still had an odd gift. The only way to use said gift is for good, but before they could help people out they would have to get their own power under control. The pretty patterns that were flat and not touchable that formed on the walls and sidewalk were taking quite a bit of effort to keep flat on the ground.

Perhaps when they had full control finally, they could do the whole helping people out with music bit. But until then...Boy, they sure hoped they’ll liked Jersey.
……….
Hey this is it, the follow up post. it’s short and to the point, and you will all find out what happens next in the next post, if you’re wondering why Eris and Charlton have chosen New Jersey of all places, then that will definitely be answered when i start writing again, lol. I have a tiny little arc coming up, and I expect Mindy Diasco will get her own Character Sheet so that you guys can officially see what she’s up to, and who this Darius guy is. Also, we still have two more characters to meet, so that should be exciting. As well as a lot of villains for E.G to beat up. So until then I give you:



Also from this point on, Eris officially wears the outfit that I drew awhile ago!

---

Amidst a mass of dense greenery the party emerged, basked in the blue light of the Ambassador’s magic, a glimmering spectacle that slowly faded as their bodies gained permanence. On all sides stood coniferous giants, separated only by low shrubbery and the occasional dirt path that told of midnight strolls and communions with the spirits therein. Aside from the cobbled, concrete path leading to and from their destination, there were no visible nor audible signs of civilization, no passing vehicles, no voices from neighbors, only the sounds of the forest to keep them company.

Marie led her party of four further into the thicket, the canopy overhead thinning as they neared her childhood home. Solar-powered lights in the style of Victorian street lamps jutted from the ground on either side of the stone path, just enough space between them for shadows to take hold of a passerby, if only for a moment. Long hours were spent moving up and down the drive leading to her home during Marie’s childhood. She often chased small wisps of light that fluttered through the trees and hid behind the lamps. Was it pretend, she wondered, or perhaps just mischievous spirits she had not yet learned to see?

The first signs of modernity, a pair of family-sized vehicles parked neatly outside the garage, shattered the illusion of the old world. The group stood just in view of home, an exceptional three story, Victorian manor seated neatly in the forest clearing atop a verdant and well groomed lawn, large stepping stones acting as a path to the front door and backyard.

Marie turned to Odette, making a gesture with both arms as if presenting the house.

”Welcome to my humble abode,” she said sarcastically, smiling at the house as if having seen it for the first time.

”Would you believe that I live in a studio apartment in Lost Haven?”

Odette smiled largely in spite of herself, she couldn’t not appreciate a beautiful home, she liked her homes to be old, refurbished, and property filled with history down to its soil. “You living in a studio apartment in a city like Lost Haven? Believable. You came from comfort and luxury, I can see a rebellious streak in moving to the city and away from your parents.”

Really, Marie was making it far too easy to read her like a book. Something she’d have to work on with her. She hung back as Marie walked ahead, Odette leaned to Bach - whom had resumed his invisibility.

“Bach,” She began in Common Fey, whispering. “I want you to sabotage the house while we eat. Keep it small, reasonable to explain away. I want to test something.”

Bach nodded, “As you wish, My Lady. I was planning to snoop while you ate but I can sabotage as I go.”

Odette gave a slight nod, saying nothing more. Aware of a particular pair of ears that could understand what they were saying.

Sure enough, Holt sauntered past in his truest form, masking himself in an ethereal veil through which only Marie, Bach, and Odette could see. He turned an inquisitive eye toward the whispering duo, their words unknown but their intent clear, to Holt at least. Carrying a duffel of only Marie’s essential tools, Holt made sure to pass too closely to the pair, alerting them to his knowledge of their scheming.

Marie turned back, waving them all forward. Just beyond the garage was a stone path leading up to the front door, decorated by more Victorian lamps and hedges, a tall, dark, menacing frame set in the immaculate masonry. Unbeknownst to her parents, Marie had taken the liberty of warding every entrance, every corner, of their home when last she made her stay. Such wards were in constant need of maintenance after long periods of time, but Marie could feel their presence, knowing that they had gone untampered for quite some time.

”I was particularly attracted to protective charms and talismans a few years ago,” Marie called back, avoiding the doorbell for a few moments longer, ”Misfortune, foul weather, malevolent spirits. Nothing against the Good Folk, though, so Bach should be just fine.”

Bach nodded, “You’re too kind.” He spoke through the veil of his invisibility.

Holt appeared at Marie’s side, dropping the bag at her feet.

”Thank you, Holt.” Marie thanked her familiar with a smile.

Holt nodded.

”Shall I assume a more inconspicuous form?”

Marie shook her head.

”No, I don’t think you need to be present for dinner. Take a look around, wander the house, do as you please.”

Holt nodded again, making the slightest turn toward Bach and Odette before fading from sight completely.

“As you know I am rather fond of wards myself. There’s an art form in them.” Odette commented her hand trailing just above the edge of the door frame, feeling the purity in the wards, their ingredients and good intentions. Never tainted by anything. She removed a bottle of wine from within her purse. “Let’s not linger outside, Marie.” She reached past the witch and rung the doorbell.

Not a moment after the doorbell’s deep chime did the front door swing open with force enough to suck the two of them inside. Two tall, fair skinned, dark-haired, slender frames stood in the doorway, the most menacingly happy smiles painted onto their faces.

“Marie!” they cried in unison, reaching out for their daughter and pulling her in for an extended embrace. Marie was caught off guard, but hugged them affectionately once she regained herself.

Eliza and Stephen Heartford bore a certain resemblance to their daughter. Eliza’s strong, high cheekbones, straight, black hair, and lithe frame were reflected in Marie’s, and Stephen’s strong shoulders and engaging stare were similar to her’s as well, but one would be remiss to believe that she inherited such features from this pair. Above all, Marie held Gwyneth’s likeness, for she and Gwyneth were one and the same.

“How are you, my girl?” Stephen boomed in a boisterous and impossibly deep voice.

“And how in the hell did you get here?” Eliza interjected, her voice deep and melodic, yet highly expressive, the faintest hints of a Bostonian accent peeking through at the end of her words.

“You didn’t walk from the bus station did you? It’s dangerous for you two to be out after dark in the city. Oh God, don’t tell me the car broke down on the way, or did you get into an accident, is that why you didn’t call me for three weeks last month?”

”Ma,” Marie spoke up, ”I’m fine, we’re both fine. The car’s fine. We took the train and got picked up by a mutual friend from Maine. And speaking of,”

Marie took a step over, allowing Odette to be in full view.

”This is Odette Favre, my friend from Lost Haven. And before you say anything to her, Dad, for the love of God don’t start doing that abysmal French accent.”

“Oh, she’s right, honey,” Eliza agreed, placing a hand on Stephen’s shoulder, “It really is awful. You spend one summer in Paris and you think you’re a savant.”

Stephen’s face turned a deeper shade of red.

“Fine, I’ll take a vow of silence.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Eliza teased, reaching out a hand to Odette.

“Pleased to meet you, Odette. I’m Eliza and this is my husband, Stephen. Who, apparently, is now a Buddhist monk.”

On with the show.

“Ah, it is so lovely to finally meet the both of you. Your home is absolutely beautiful. Softly, daintily she shook Eliza’s hand wearing a winning smile, her accent a bit more pronounced as her voice rose an octave. “Please, Monsieur Heartford I would love to hear all about your summer in Paris. I was born and raised there before moving to America.”

Conspiratorially she leaned in with a hand to the side of her face, “I could give you tips on improving your accent to even fool a native Parisian.”

She winked. Bach shrunk in size stepping through their feet and scurrying away. When he was clear of the Heartfords he resumed his normal size he crossed the foyer heading to a set of stairs, planning to start from the top of the house and work his way down. The stairs audibly creaked with weight. The older home betraying Bach’s movement.

Odette internally winced at the noise, “I brought you a gift for inviting us over for dinner.” She offered up the wine in her hand, “A classic Cabernet Sauvignon for the hosts.”

Eliza and Stephen’s eyes lit up, thought Marie was unsure if it was by Odette’s good manners, or the sight of a fine wine.

”Trying to ply my parents with alcohol to learn their secrets?” Marie joked.

“Oh by all means, keep it up,” Stephen spoke up, abandoning his retaliatory silence, “by the end of the night you could lead us around on leashes,”

“Stephen,” Eliza protested, smacking her husband’s shoulder.

Marie put a hand over her face.

”Dad . . .”

“I’ll uh, I’ll just take this into the kitchen.” Stephen replied sheepishly, taking the bottle of wine and moving through the house.

Odette laughed good naturedly, thinking to herself. What an awkward man. . . Maintaining her smile.

Eliza motioned for the both of them to step inside, moving toward the kitchen herself.

“I’m gonna go with your dad, make sure he doesn’t mess something up. We’ve got plenty of catching up to do, but why don’t you show Odette around the house? We’ll call you down for appetizers once everything’s ready.”

With that, she trailed off behind Stephen, leaving Marie and Odette to their own devices in the foyer, a long rectangular room adjoined to the library, living room, dining room, and conservatory. The walls were all wood paneling, all richly stained in dark earthen tones, lined with display cases, potted plants, and paintings of various subjects. Her parents had added a few new additions since her last visit, including a small model of Buckingham Palace, and some sort of carved whale bone.

“A tour! Please lead the way, Marie.”She said brightly, uncharacteristically looping her arm with Marie. “There must be a ton of nooks and crannies in a house this size.”

Whispering, “Full of secrets.”

Waiting to make sure her parents were out of earshot, Marie turned to Odette.

”Laying it on a little thick, aren’t we? But sure, there’s plenty to see. We’ll start with the library . . . ugh, I feel like such a tool saying that.”

“A bubbly and charming young lady passes through a great deal of social scenes with minimum effort, it only seems thick because you’ve seen behind the veil.” Odette remarked, smirking.

Marie led them to the entrance to the library, a modest sized room with a collection of differently sized wall and floor bookcases, all filled to the brim with texts, small labels placed between shelves as a rudimentary form of organization. The library also joined to an enclosed porch, accessible through a set of sliding glass doors slightly obscured by large, ornate drapes.

”Before my parents moved in, this used to be another sitting room, but my mom insisted that they have a library in a house this size. Classical literature, poetry, historical texts, books on trades and skills like sewing, at least seven copies of the Constitution, honestly I think they just bought books to take up space.”

“My library at home is around this size, Bach’s collection takes up a fair amount of space. I keep a fairly large collection from over the years, old books - singular editions are rather valuable bargaining chip to the Gentry. Uniqueness values highly.” Odette commented, walking with her hands behind her back skimming the spines. “When you regain all your memories and power, would you spend time reading through a library?”

Marie thought on it, walking over to a round table in the corner of the room, sitting down on the cushioned bench nestled into the corner.

”Well, from the looks of things I was fairly well armed with knowledge of the craft, and ever since I was young, from what I can remember, I kept learning for both the joy of knowing, but also out of a feeling of necessity, if we’re talking about magic, that is. I read and learned to test myself. But I enjoyed some of the old stories I’ve read, the myths and legends, trial records, tales of witches and the Fey. Barring any serious threat to me, I don’t see why not. Why?”

Odette turned to look over her shoulder at Marie, neutral expression broke way into a knowing smile. “Curiosity, I’ve spent a good deal of thought on what I would do if I had all the time in the world. Reading through a library would be one of the ways.”

She sighed dramatically, “Alas! Us mere mortals are bound by time’s law. A shame really.”

While Bach had run of the house to have fun, Odette made her own entertainment by baiting the likes of Marie.

Marie turned a sideways glance at Odette.

”You know, you have this really annoying tendency of reminding me that you know more about me than I do. I’m not totally oblivious. There’s some hint in there about Gwyneth somewhere, you’ve been dropping them since this morning.”

Marie looked out the window, trying to conjure up some image of Gwyneth in her mind, something that might point them toward their goal or unravel the web spun by Odette.

”Unfortunately, I don’t have any frame of reference, unless . . .”

Marie stood up, walking quickly over to Odette.

”This is something to do with Gwyneth splitting her soul, right? She was . . . giving herself more time for something?”

Odette served up her best shrug, “Who knows, seeing how I have this annoying tendency to know everything except what Gwyneth’s grand plan was.” She said patronizing as ever always acting in favour of a petty remark. “We’re searching for Mind, Marie. Use the hints I have already dropped. Gwyneth exercises a masterful stroke of magic to create illusionary worlds inside her possessions.” She held up one finger, “She split apart her soul and her spirit survives, she suffered betrayals in life. What could a master of witchcraft - powerful enough to split their own soul have to warrant in their life?”Holding up three fingers, wiggling them.

“It’s a rather short list of reasons to guess at.”

”A life she was desperately trying to extend . . . I was looking for immortality?” Marie guessed, an assumption which made plenty of sense. There is little reason to separate one’s spirit from the body if not to ensure its continued survival, unless, of course, her search was instead for power that a mortal form could not wield. In either case, immortality would solve both.

”So all of this is part of a spell for immortality, is that it? Create a place where your spirit can reside until such a time that it can return to its original form, split it into multiple parts to ensure its safety, take control of your own fate instead of leaving it in the hands of those who would betray you. Gwyneth wanted to escape mortal shackles!”

One question yet remained in Marie’s mind, why? Odette hadn’t painted Gwyneth as a power mad witch from old, nor did her own fleeting memories depict her in that light. Surely immortality wasn’t a means to amass power, but a way out, a rather spiteful way out.
Odette nodded, continuing to walk on. “As you can imagine it’s far more complex than that. Alas!” She cupped a hand to her ear, hearing the tell tale footsteps of presumably Eliza coming down the hallway. She clasped her hands, her tone tooth achingly sweet. “Appy’s have arrived.” She held up her exaggeration for a second then grinned playfully.

Eliza turned into the library with a glass of wine in hand, unable to resist the call of an afternoon drink.

“Hope you girls are hungry,” she said cheerfully, “we’ve got a five course meal all planned for a night of fun.”

She turned to Marie.

“You’re lucky you called me this morning else I would’ve had hell trying to whip this up. A couple of things might be store bought so don’t hold that against me.”

Ushering them into the hallway leading into the dining room, Eliza turned around and addressed Odette.

“Oh, I forgot to mention. Stephen’s going through his vegan phase this year.”

”About every two years he falls into fad diets and healthy eating. We were vegetarians for about six months when I was eighteen. I guess now he’s upgraded to vegan.” Marie explained.

“Will that be alright?”

If I have to work through a kilo of barbeque smothered tofu-, “Not at all, that sounds lovely.”

---

Time: Evening - Sherman Square Attack
Location: Hounds Headquarters, Carver

Seeing the fight wrap up, various other heroes took to Iron Knight’s call to follow him. The Alchemyst hesitated. Green eyes behind green tinted goggles tracked down from Pantheon to his open hand. Soaked through the bone from the rain, catching a breath in between bursts of adrenaline. News helicopters moved spotlights over Sherman Square, bright light focusing on them.Authorities were clearing a way into the square past the bodies, making arrests. Ambulances arrived next, paramedics checking for pulses. There was still work to do, but Charlie tried to get a clear thought in before rushing off again. It was a massive mess.

Cleaning up the infrastructure, due process for all the arrests… She was hit with a massive call back to reality. If she survived this, storming their seemingly empty headquarters would there be a period of quiet after this?

More importantly did it cripple the Witchfinder-General? His resources in the Hounds of Humanity would dry up, unless he already cut his losses. Breathing was getting harder.

Tearing off the goggles and shuffling her mask down off her chin, she took a deep breath in. She grabbed Pantheon’s hand, nodding at Hex. Appreciating the offer to fly instead of the insistence. He was listening, so was Hassan. He supported her bottom on the crook of his elbow, Charlie bunched up his cape in her hand to hold on, staff in her free hand. Hex did the same sitting in his other arm. Easily supporting both of them, lifting off the ground.

Glancing down she saw one more mecha suited authority unit, barely catching what he said before they took off.

_{“Excuse me, is there anybody here that could give us a lift?”}

He sounded polite enough, it was too bad Pantheon was an asshole.

The wind whistled in her ears, the speed in which they caught up and soared past Iron Knight and other ‘slow’ fliers. The cool air helped clear her head a bit, she looked to Maddi. The exhaustion pulled at her body language, shoulders hunched against the wind the way she gripped her cane. The furrow of her brow told another story, the focus and absence of fear in her pretty hazel eyes- Charlie glanced away. They were friends, fighting back to back. Charlie knew how easy it was to get caught up in a crush and read things wrong. Maddi was new to fighting, her certain powers and everything else that came with it. Charlie could hardly call herself an expert either.

Charlie wondered how she must of looked, the fire still burned in her belly, materials weighed in her pockets. The fear of being surrounded earlier had cemented her to the spot, would she be able to reign it in again to snap into action. She felt unsure that much could be seen on her face. What damage could she cause for the Hounds if she was given free reign to run around? Especially with Maddi and Pantheon?

As their base came into view, RPGS were fired toward Iron Knight and the fliers, unfortunately including Pantheon. “Hold on!” She shouted. Pantheon’s grip on the pair of them tightened as he dodged the rocket. Iron Knight made short order of the welcoming party with knocking the Hounds on the ground out. They landed close by, Charlie shuffled her mask and goggles back in place hood being blown off, she didn’t bother to replace it. Her blonde hair was frizzing out from the rain and loosely kept braids.

She looked to Lyger, Iron Knight, Radiance and Slipstream then to Pantheon and Hex. If they had hope to do this somewhat efficiently they would need to break down the defenses, punching and zapping their way through would just slow them down. The heavy hitters needed to make a precious strike. Not having a mind for tactics, Charlie saw the problem in a bigger picture. She walked up to Iron Knight, looking up at the head of the suit. Assuming the big-shot metas could see that way as well was another can of worms. “Still here willing to help, Iron Knight. Let us be the unpredictable element here, point us at what needs to be broken and we can guarantee it. My powers let me manipulate matter down to its core elements,” She began to explain. “I can literally make holes in their defenses or walls.”

“Lady Hex disintegrated their weapons and Pantheon took on a mech barehanded.” She said with pride and she was. She was proud of them.

“We can operate non-lethally.” She was looking at Iron Knight but meant that for Pantheon. “Right, Pantheon?”

“As Concerned Citizens, we just need one chance Richie Rich.”

---

Meanwhile. . .

_{“If my readings are correct, the Hounds have a base located on the waterfront of the nearby suburb, Carver. If someone here can’t fly or have some other form of transportation, you should pair up with someone who can. We need to strike quickly or all of this will be for not.”}

Just outside police lines an old man had joined the surgering crowd of emergency crews and volunteers, moving against the flow of people. He kept out of sight, coming away from the chaos that was currently Sherman Square. A clean shaven chin poked out beneath it, along with a long ponytail of grey hair. He had a hood over his head, walked in a leisurely way, calm, no rush, and certainly in no hurry.

His jacket was woolly and full of pockets, his bare chest had wispy curly hair. Several necklaces of various metals and materials like wood and string - hung from his neck as well. His jeans were faded from the sun, pockets turned out to dry from the rain earlier. His flip flops clapped against the pavement as he walked. He leaned into the strange staff he walked with. The staff itself was the most polished thing about him. It was pitch, solid, when he passed by police vehicle lights the light reflected the particles floating around it. When he was well away from the crowds he straightened from his slouch, rolling up his sleeves.

He jogged down a row of cars, looking for the oldest one among them. He managed to find an old black civic with manual locks on the door. He pressed his hand against the handle, the lock popped open and he climbed inside the driver’s side. Hot wiring it to start the engine he carefully reversed, pulling into the empty street following the heroes to their final destination for the evening. Following Vigilante, unbeknownst to either of them.

Clearly, he was determined to witness this generation’s most foolhardy alchemist in action.

Provence, New Jersey that day was an unusual bustle of activity and excitement. The city was never the biggest hotspot for celebrities or political drama, so most skipped it on their road trips across the country. Recently, however, that was soon to change thanks to a small investment made by a man who goes by the name Darius Winters. Mr.Winters was a highly respected investor, and stockholder in many lucrative businesses. He was a tall, dark skinned man who seemed to have a taste for expensive suits, as well as expensive cars.

Needless to say, his arrival in Provence shook many people up, including New Jersey’s own personal hero, E.G. Or, as they are actually called, Eris Goodoire a young freelancer who recently found their way to Provence after unfortunate business in their hometown of Atlanta, Georgia. Darius Winters had opened up, and made plans for a small nightclub downtown near what many locals referred to lovingly as the “Trash Heap.” This new nightclub would occupy the space next to the illegal dumping site. Mr.Winters wouldn’t let up about how amazing it was going to be once it finally opened. Eris, along with most of the town, had shown up to an unveiling of sorts. The outside of the building was completed, but the inside still remained to be fixed up.

“Ladies and Gentleman of Provence!” Mr.Winters announced from atop a small podium in front of the steps of the building. In his hand, he held a red corded rope that led to the cloak covering the building. “I am so glad you all could make it.” There were a few asserting cheers from the crowd, one of which came from Max Heighnsworth, the local music shop owner and only resident D.J. “Today I show to you New Jersey’s soon to be hottest nightclub…” He pulled the red rope, and the cloak fell away revealing a crazy looking building with multi colored tiles on the walls, and silly graffiti art on the doors. The buildings design was also a little strange, as it looked to be part house, part cassette tape with unruly steel wires spilling from the top like a broken cassette player, and a ginormous band of duct tape with the words “Mixtape” written on it in horrible handwriting.

There were a bunch of confused mumumrings among the crowd; Ms.Hazefield the owner of the local flower shop next to Eris’ apartment, asked whether or not the nightclub was really supposed to be some kind of Childrens Museum. “Now, now I know it looks a tad bit strange, but I promise you people from all over are going to come and enjoy themselves at the Mixtape sometime next month!” Mr.Winters promised.

“It looks awful!” Eris shouted over the crowd, which garnered a few grunts of agreement.

“Well…” Mr.Winters shrugged his shoulders. “The Mix Tape caters to...the young people. Like yourself! They’re all about retro this, and vintage that.” He waved his hand dismissively. “A lot of you here are older folks, and I can understand why you think it looks terrible. But we can’t dismiss our children’s interests, no matter how terrible it makes their sense of fashion and decor look. It’s all about the artistry, nowadays.”

He stepped down from the podium, and since Provence wasn’t known to have a big population, two reporters from competing news stations that everyone watched simultaneously, and that only aired in the tiny town of Provence, came up to him each asking him questions. Eris groaned when they spotted the two reporters because they were recently bombarded with questions the day they showed off their powers for the first time to the townspeople. Kassandra Yuuteki and Kyle Yuuteki were siblings. They’ve been at war with each other ever since anyone in the town could remember. According to Ms.Hazefield, even as kids they were very rowdy and loud with each other, and always holding strange competitions for odd things.

“So the Nightclub is for children, you say?” Kassandra asked. Mr.Winters blinked, confused.

“Uh...no. Of course not, who would make a nightclub for kids?” He asked.

“Yeah, Kassandra. It was obviously a meant to be taken as a sort of metaphor. He called us old, but I’m not even past 24 yet!” Kyle exclaimed. “The Nightclub will be open when you say?”

“Um, next month. You must be 18 years or older to get into one, though. That’s the law-”

“Such a courteous man!” Kassandra cut him off, excitedly. “Educating us all to keep us safe from the dangers of Nightclubs.”

“Now hold on a minute, nightclubs aren’t dangerous-” Mr.Winters argued. Kyle chimed in.

“Oh I beg to differ. See, I did research awhile back and-”

“I thought we agreed that I was the co-creator of that study?” Kassandra said, pointedly.

“Well, yeah. But I am the one who got it licensed under our name, remember?”

Kassandra scoffed. “You mean your own name. You just put ‘Study done by Yuuteki’ at the top!”

“So? What’s wrong with our last name?”

“Nothing, except how are people going to be able to tell that it was made by two people?” She countered.

“You two, knock it off.” Eris decided to put a stop to their bickering before it began. They had already heard the fight over who got what rights over their ridiculous “studies”. “Mr.Winters can talk to each of you some other time, individually.” Kassandra huffed.

“You still owe us an interview, E.G.” She said. “Don’t think we haven’t forgotten. Or at least, I haven’t forgotten.”

“I didn’t forget either.” Kyle said, sheepishly turning red. “But, she’s right. We will get that interview, sir.” Eris just shook their head, sighing heavily.

“That’s right, missy!” Kassandra said. “That interview will be ours someday.”

“I already told you. I don’t do interviews.” They said. “Now shoo, before I plague you with a terrible song that will haunt your minds forever.” The twins visibly shuddered in fear, remembering the last time when Eris had sicced the horrible tones of Smash Mouth on them for about a week. It took them days to get the lyrics to “All Star” out of their heads.

“We...We get the picture. Just...keep that playlist where we can see it.” Kassandra pointed to Eris’ Ipod, a tiny machine that was coated in a vibrant green and red color scheme. The two twins left, giving Mr.Winters their contacts, each one from a different studio.

“People here sure are…” He floundered for the words. “Eccentric, I guess.” He looked at Eris, pointedly. “I have heard about you though. You’re Eris Goodoire, correct?” They nodded, smiling.

“Yep, I’m the resident freak.” They said happily. “Though my hero name is just my initials.”

Mr.Winters looked around at the dispersing crowd, most of which had gone home or back to their shops to close down. “This nightclub is a great meeting place. I actually chose Provence to build because I needed to speak to you.”

Eris shuffled their feet. “What about?” They asked.

Mr.Winters looked at them seriously. “Are you familiar with a girl named Mindy Diasco?”

Eris looked up, surprised. “You...you’re that Darius. Mindy has mentioned you before. Not to me, but I’ve heard her say your name.” They said. “Where is she? It’s been months, and I can’t find her anywhere!”

Darius raised a hand slowly, trying to calm them down. “Well, Mindy is fine, I assure you. She’s at her lab as we speak, working on another batch of Soundria.”

Eris jumped back in surprise. “No way! She’s...gonna make more of that drug?” They asked, slightly hurt.

“It’s not going to be for what you think, though!” Darius said. “We’re not making super soldiers, or anything. She cracked what was wrong with it to begin with, and…She may have found a cure to help with the...Surround Sound effect.”

“And you wanna know if I want that cure or not, huh?” They asked quietly. They kicked the dirt with their brightly colored shoes. “Honestly, I kinda like my powers. I’m still getting the hang of them but…”



“If having this drug in me means I can annoy people with Beethoven from a distance, then I think it was a win win.” They chuckled. “I’m glad Mindy’s doing fine. Do you think I can see her sometime?”

Darius nodded, he smiled. “Of course. Eris has told me of your adventures, and your big escape. She did a lot for you, and for that I am proud of her.” He said. “Though...I really wish she had at least consulted me about it. What if Soundria had ruined your life, or something?” He sighed, and shook his head. “Well, that wasn’t the case, it seems. Thankfully. But still, it was a tiny bit reckless going off and making a super drug without telling me.”

Eris shrugged and smirked. “She’s a genius, sir. What did you expect?” They asked.
…………………

That night, Charlton made a household favorite, spaghetti with hotdogs for meatball substitutes. Eris sat down at the table, a creaky wooden stand in for when they would finally buy a real one. “Please eat it while it’s hot sir, I know you despise cold food.” Charlton said.

“Okay, whatever. But did I tell you I found a lead on Mindy’s whereabouts?” They said, shoveling spaghetti in their mouth. Charlton perked up at the mention of Mindy’s name.

“You know where she is?” He asked.

Eris stopped chewing, and shrugged. “Yes, and no. See, I met the guy behind the new nightclub downtown, right? And his name is Darius Winters. Apparently, he knows Mindy, and I know he knows Mindy because I heard her say his name...once.”

“That’s...very substantial proof, I guess.” Charlton said. “I mean, I can’t think of any other reason for him to lie, unless he works for the government or something. Maybe he’s trying to sucker you in to do weird experiments on you?”

But I’m a local Hero! We see them on the news all the time, busting bad guys with their weird powers and whatnot.” They objected. “Why me, and not...I don’t know, that giant lady who was rampaging through Atlanta a couple months ago?” Charlton shrugged.

“You’re right about one thing, it seems highly implausible that they would be after you. And like I said, I can’t think of any other reason he would be lying about this.” Charlton said. “We should arrange to meet up with this Mr.Winters in order to set up a meeting with Mindy.”

Eris groaned. “I am no good at long distance relationships, Charlton. You know this.” They said, pushing their plate away. “And...we can’t leave New Jersey. There are two people we’re looking for, remember?”

“Right. Leila Thompson. British Immigrant, brown hair, unusual bright green eyes.” Charlton listed off the girl’s description given to him by Eris. “And something about always having a...moth nearby?”

Eris nodded. “The moth is green too. So is the suit she wears.” They said. “Once we find her, we ask her for that favor she owes me. You remember your lines for when we finally meet her?”

Charlton sighed. “Of course not. And anyway, I haven’t been able to spot her around town. And this is a very small town.” He said.

“It’s small.” Eris tapped the table. “But it’s a prime hotspot. You’ll see why once we find her, she always explains it the better than me.”

“This is no ex of yours, like you said? I still find that hard to believe.” Charlton picked up his plate, and brought it to the trash. “Your ex’s are not known to be the most rational bunch. One in particular comes to mind.” Eris didn’t need him to spell it out for them.

“Cassidy is probably over me by now, it’s been like 6 months since we last heard from her.” They said. Charlton just preoccupied himself with washing the dishes, leaving the conversation unfinished.

The two of them would make for downtown in the hopes of finding Darius Winters tomorrow. Seeing Mindy one last time wouldn’t hurt at all.
...........
welp, this is the start of hopefully something I can continue on later on down the line when school starts.

---

Meanwhile. . .

Invisible to the mortal eye, Bach dressed as he preferred. A well worn and beloved emerald green blazer with brown patchwork at the elbows. Various beads, wooden assorted jewelry hung at his neck - handcrafted to the cursory eye. Deep green pants, frayed at the ankles and dustings of dirt present everywhere all over his body. His skin an olive green hue, with green-yellow eyes, pointed ears to give him an elfish appearance. His hair a dark brown with various motley coloured leaves seemingly growing out of it, falling behind him as he walked barefoot. At the top of his forehead, two small horns poking out beneath the unkempt hair. His hands dirty, always dirty from mysterious sources. Living attached to a mortal has changed his appearance in subtle ways, he washes his hand more often than ever before. For the better part of the century, he maintains his appearance as such. Strange and mischievous, when he is seen it’s never far from The Ambassador’s side. He adjusts his height as he needs or desires but often matches Odette’s height. He took long strides up the stairs to the third floor.

When he arrived it was quiet, the conversations and noises of the kitchen more than a floor below. Hearing the house creak, whistle, and move as they do. To his left and right were closets, he peeked inside, seeing winter clothing storage. He rooted through some of the pockets for spare change, he stuck his tongue out at the mothballs emptying them into a boot. Shaking his arm about he conjured a swath of moths blowing them off his hand into the closet. He closed the door, moving on.

Leisurely he wandered down the hallway, hands in his pockets.

He peeked into the spare bedrooms, they were closed off sheets thrown over them to protect the furniture from dust and infrequent use. He went inside, pulling the covers off balling them up and throwing them into another closet. The bedrooms had little decor but one sported a tall mirror, framed in wrought iron. He took a seed from out of his pocket flicking it at the mirror, it bounced off the surface leaving a sizeable crack. He breezed out of the bedroom striding toward the window looking outside, it was a beautiful view. The Heartfords had a sizeable and private property.

He rocked back onto his heels walking away from the window, it was mostly storage and spare space on the third floor. He wondered if they had an attic or just a basement. He turned toward the stairs meaning to head back down, on the second step down he rubbed the heel of his barefoot against the step. It creaked ominously, any more weight applied could have snapped it clean through. He carried on.

To the second floor, he saw more living going on. Master bedroom, sitting room, probably Marie’s old bedroom would be found on this floor. He wandered down to the master bedroom first. Decor and the like were all matching and quite lovely, it was generally tidy some clothing was strewn at the foot of the bed. Vanity dresser combo had various jewelry boxes, half full bottles of perfume and cologne. Some pictures, a small makeup mirror. He ran a hand over the top sheet on the bed, tapping his foot against the foot of the bed knocking it just a little off. He went through the vanity taking things like brushes, watches, earrings into his arms. When he left the room he tracked down to the window - opening it.

He hurled the hairbrush out and with a flick of the wrist, the watch disappeared in a glint of light.

He stepped away, leaving it open - it could rain and drench the sill and floor… unluckily. Such minor misfortune.

Bending down to one of the air vents against the wall he pried it open, nestling earrings away and out of sight. Fitting it back in its place before moving on.

Poking his head into the sitting room, what were the homeowners going to notice before the night was out? He tapped his chin in thought. The small half-bath was tucked into the corner. He reasoned for a house this age, plumbing could very well be the solution to calling attention.

He kneeled down under the sink, tongue sticking out as he loosened the drain pipe, he let the water run. No leaks followed, he leaned against the sink. Using a tiny bit of magic, long vines grew from his nails winding down through the drain and out of sight. He turned on the water, it slowly began to collect in the basin - successfully backing it up. He left the sitting room, feeling there was one more place to sabotage. He made a beeline for Marie’s bedroom.

With a twist of a doorknob, he entered with a little difficulty, some resistance. The air was different, saturated with a witch’s work and craft. A queen-sized bed, similarly matched decor with some teenaged flair thrown in with posters on the wall, an old bookcase that was dusty and maintained only a few books. The desk, however, was her formidable workbench, some stains - wax drippings, burn marks. His hand hovered over it, then laid his palm flat against it. The desk began rattling against the direct contact seemingly coming to life. The noise increased, he tried to stop it but there would be no doubt they could hear from below.

He dug his heels in, “Stop!” putting weight against it. Feeling his teeth chatter.

---

In the dining room downstairs, Odette, Marie, and her parents sat around a large island counter situated next to a fully stocked bar, having worked through two rounds of vegan appetizers, including roasted brussel sprouts with a pesto aioli, a blooming onion, and a charcuterie board full of roasted vegetables, nuts, berries, as well as half the bottle of Odette’s gifted wine. Stephen has been hard at work recounting his many expeditions, throwing in the occasional “fun fact” about cultural artifacts and geographic anomalies. Eliza, on the other hand, has discussed more fully the scope of her work at the university, detailing her areas of expertise in pre-colonial Americas and the Early Modern period, as well as her interests in the industrialization of the world as a whole.

Intermittently, Marie combats her parent’s attempts to tell embarrassing stories of her antisocial younger years but is drowned out by Odette’s own protestations. It’s nice, Marie thinks to herself, despite her cheeks going flush every few minutes, to share this with someone. At no point in her life in Boston did she ever bring home a friend. There were times when she was tempted, but more often than not, she was reading through old texts and experimenting with her craft.

“How rude of us,” Eliza spoke for herself and Stephen, filling both Marie and Odette’s glasses a little too full, “we haven’t asked a single thing about you, Odette. What brought you to Maine and how did you and Marie meet?”

They were far from rude, excellent hosts even hitting the high standards Odette held for herself. They had been warm, entertaining and readily available with sharing food and drink. It really didn’t take much to impress faerie, all you truly had to do was put your best foot forward. Whether that was sharing an old treasured bottle of wine or your last loaf of bread to your pantry. Being a good host wasn’t exclusive to the wealthy, but... Odette still enjoyed being in a beautiful Victorian home versus a hovel.

She gave Marie a glance, eyes alight with mischief. “You have been wonderful hosts, please do not doubt yourselves.”

“We have a rather strange start to our friendship, nearly opposites in our ideals.” They were still to some degree but something was chipping away at Marie’s moralistic compass. Odette knew her influence was to thank for that. “When I first arrived at Lost Haven, it was quite naturally setting up in the French Quarter where things were passingly familiar. I came to explore American dance education here, branch out from what I had always known.”

She pulled out her phone, flicking through it looking for a picture. One she asked to get for rehearsal. She showed the three of them of herself, “Le Lac de Cynges, Swan Lake. I was a soloist for the Paris Opera Ballet, this is me in costume as one of the four little swans.” In the picture they would see her in a white layered tutu, standing en pointe, hair pulled into a feathered cap wrapped around her head with bead and silk. “As you can imagine, long days - the stress maintaining excellence as a Soloist had begun to take a toll on me. I decided to take a much-needed break, study abroad in America.”

It was an incredibly strenuous schedule she had been on for the past several years but she would never admit to letting it break her nor tire. Dance was never a burden. “I found myself in Lost Haven, drawn by its fame close proximity to superheroes and interesting dance community here. An acquaintance of mine brought us together, Racheli.”

She grinned fondly remembering that fiasco. “She was an impulsive and dangerous type of person, she got far too drunk at a party we were both at. I tried wrangling her in but our success was due to Marie and another friend of hers. While we were holding Racheli’s hair we started to talk.”

“Pass the time.” She said, “Turns out we’re both interested in occult things like ghosts, magic, and fairy tales. What a strange way to bond over a puking acquaintance.” She laughed, it was wholly fake. “Here we are.”

Marie stopped herself from reacting in complete shock. She half expected Odette to give them the whole story, but peppering in bits of truth here and there was certainly more Odette’s style. However, her parents were familiar with her interest in folklore and Renaissance magic. Her father was more than happy to share information he’d gathered on artifacts from that era, and the both of them knew plenty of old tales and legends from their studies; it was one of the only ways they’d learned to connect to Marie. But Eliza and Stephen wore a far more troubled expression than she might have expected.

Just then, a rattling came from upstairs, grating against the hardwood floors and shaking the light fixtures in the dining room.

“What in the . . .” Stephen looked up, standing from his position near the bar and moving around the island, poking his head into the foyer to see if the door had been left open.

Marie turned to Odette, silently wondering if Bach or some other spirit might be responsible. This was her first return to the house in almost two years, and with a party of other mystical beings in tow. Perhaps they had inadvertently drawn something in with their presence.

”I-I know what it is.” Marie stammered, trying to come up with a lie. She called out to Holt with her mind, bidding him move her bags up to the second floor unseen. While Stephen’s head was turned to listen to Marie’s explanation, Holt did as requested, appearing at the front door and moving the bags to the room directly atop the dining room.

”I took my bags upstairs before we looked around the library. One of them must have fallen off the bed. I picked up a few souvenirs with Odette earlier, a couple was pretty heavy.”

Eliza and Stephen looked at one another as if mentally conversing. Stephen shrugged, returning to his seat, seemingly satisfied with the answer.

“We’ll send you home with something in case anything was broken.” Eliza offered, sipping her wine.

Odette ignored Marie’s glances, “Perhaps an ancient ghost followed us?” She sipped her wine letting that comment hang. She looked between Marie’s parents, both Eliza and Stephen had fleeting looks of concern, she did not expect it but did they know more than they suspected? She joked, breezily moving on, “When in doubt, sage it out right Marie?”

Mariel let out a cautious laugh in response, worried what might have transpired upstairs but silently directing Holt to inform her of anything troublesome.

Upstairs, Holt scanned her bedroom, noticing her misplaced desk, but nothing else amiss. He could feel something else around, a familiar presence, but gave no indication he knew anything else. Soon after, Holt faded from view, resuming his roam around the house.

Marie closed her eyes and breathed deeply, allowing a calm to wash over her. Now wasn’t the time for something strange and unnatural. She required order, structure, everything in its proper place. Nothing could go wrong.

Nothing can go wrong . . .

Bach crept out from under her bed when Holt disappeared, huffing. He exited the bedroom, noticing a strange pressure that was present inside the bedroom but now followed him outside of it. He looked around then down at himself, seeing if any charms stuck to him. Only a little time passed when he was in the sitting room but wanted to check on the flooding, see if the water had at least reached past the door. When he entered the sitting room it was quiet, no running water could be heard.

Suspicious he crossed the room to the bathroom, the water was turned off. He turned it back on, the water drained normally. He twisted the knob turning it off watching the water drip while he thought. Pushing off the basin he tracked down to the master bedroom, the window was closed. Checking the vanity, everything he stole away was back in its original places. He snatched the hairbrush running upstairs, he threw open the window at the end of the hallway throwing the hairbrush further than before. He watched it fall.

The window began to rattle, he paused at the sound then the window snapped shut over his fingers. He howled ripping his hands away with the snap of a few branches. Momentarily angry he shook his hands, they briefly became bark growing little stubs of fingers back. “. . . Interesting.”

Holding his hands, he looked into one of the guest bedrooms - the sheets had been replaced but mysteriously the wrought iron mirror remained broken. “Curious.”

Back in the kitchen, Odette knew the sounds were Bach but he usually was far quieter. She heard him cry out, she tried not to react but her head turned toward the sound. “I know Marie and I are believers, but what about you? Clearly, experts in your respective fields but. . . Do you believe in what lies beyond our veil?”

Eliza and Stephen shared a knowing look, one that, to Odette and Marie, was far more telling than they might have intended.

“I like to immerse myself in some of what I study,” Stephen spoke first, happy to talk about one of his excavations. “There was this dig I went on in the UK quite a few years ago, for example, up in Wales. I can’t remember exactly where we went, but there were a few monoliths buried beneath a hill up in the Ceredigion region. It took months to get authorization, but the nearest city wanted to open the area up a bit more and if there was another Stonehenge out there, it could mean millions in tourism. I had a friend working in the area who thought to bring me on. Your mother went with me on this one, too.”

Eliza nodded, trying to remember the details.

“That’s right,” she set down her glass, smiling at Stephen before turning back to Marie. “The stones were nondescript, although a bit of writing was just visible above the ground at what we thought was the base. Your father’s better at dating structures than I am, but I could tell it wasn’t as old as similar structures. Much more recent, Early Modern I suspected.”

“Half the reason I brought her,” Stephen interjected, kissing Eliza’s shoulder.

Eliza playfully pushed him away.

“And because I’d been wanting to take a trip to Europe for a while. He surprised me with the dig on the plane over, but I let him get away with it.”

“Anyway,” Stephen continued, “when we dug out the hill, we found a stone circle beneath, masterfully carved, virtually untouched by the elements. On all sides were stone pillars etched in writing and symbols I wasn’t entirely familiar with. I assumed it must have been a ritual site of some description, maybe a remnant of the faerie faith that was common in the isles, certainly not Christian. Behind one of the pillars was a box or chest. It hadn’t survived years of weathering, all kinds of rot had set in and it was falling apart, but underneath the rubble was something wrapped in cloth . . . a book, all kinds of intricate designs on the front like vines.”

“None of us dared try to open it,” Eliza chimed in, “we were worried that it might have been damaged, that tampering with it would undo all the work we’d done to uncover it.”

Stephen nodded in agreement.

“We had a field lab set up under some tents where your mom and I slept overnight while the others in our team went into town. The book didn’t look worn or damaged, in fact the latch on the side of it was perfectly intact. None of us could pry it open. So that night, I fastened a makeshift lockpick to see if I couldn’t jimmy it open.”

“And we both had strange dreams afterward,” Eliza finished for him. “Maybe that was a supernatural experience, maybe it was just the atmosphere. We’ve kept an open mind about it, as with most things.”

Odette schooled her expression to be neutral but what Stephen and Eliza described was unmistakably their tampering with Gwyneth’s Mind. They must have met with her directly, to gain access to one of her items as they and Odette previously had is a one-way ticket into a piece of Gwyneth’s soul. She had to confirm the story, but where was the line to discuss Marie and Odette knew exactly what they were talking about without revealing everything? What else were they aware of?

“That’s an amazing story.” Odette began. “Surely you did not pass that book onto a museum curator. What became of it after you discovered it?” She asked, innocently enough. Marie and Odette knew it was here in the house but was it being kept under lock and key?

Stephen shifted uncomfortably, turning to Marie and finding her expression shifting from tension to intrigue, to a combination of joy and horror.

“Well, the preservation organization we were working with wouldn’t be too keen to let something like that go, but . . .”

“But someone from the dig team made off with it the next morning.” Eliza cut in, sipping her wine and keeping her eyes low. “Never found out who took it,”

”Stop lying,” Marie curtly interrupted, leaning forward.

“Marie?” Eliza questioned with a hurt expression, though Stephen’s jitters betrayed her attempt at acting.

”Have you known this entire time?”

“K-known what?” Stephen sheepishly replied.

Marie let out a deep sigh, her face showing immense disappointment. She waved an arm behind her. Decorative candles lining displays and shelves all lit in unison. Eliz and Stephen jumped back, though their expressions remained largely the same.

“We,” Eliza spoke up before taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly, a sigh of relief, or maybe one of remorse? It was hard to say.

“Yes, Marie, we knew. We just thought that, once you moved away, it wouldn’t matter anymore, that you’d go off on your own, find your own way, be something else. But we should have known . . .”

”Should have known what? What aren’t you telling me?”

Stephen and Eliza turned to Odette whom they assumed would want some sort of explanation as well. They were surprised to see that she looked to be enjoying herself.

“I did try to open the book,” Stephen spoke up after a moment of silence. “And we did have strange dreams, but no one stole the book . . . well, I suppose we stole the book. Umm, you tell it, dear.” he conceded to his wife, unable to find the right words to voice their tale.

“I heard noises the night of the dig and couldn’t sleep. I woke up to your father tinkering with the lock on the side of the book. He thought he could get into it without damaging anything and I tried to talk him out of it, but not a moment later, we were . . . somewhere else.”

Eliza shifted in her seat, trying to conjure up details from a memory she’d tried to repress.

“It was the same landscape but much more vivid. The air was much clearer, there were no roads, no lights from the city or neighboring towns. Just the two of us standing in an open field next to the site we’d dug up the previous morning, only now it was fully uncovered. A woman appeared to us, she looked just like you . . . Gwyneth, she called herself. She said we’d found something of hers, that she could help us. I, uhm, I couldn’t . . .”

“Your mother couldn’t get pregnant,” Stephen stepped in, seeing Eliza struggle. “We’d been trying for almost two years until a doctor finally confirmed it. Yo-Gwyneth said that she could help us have a child. We were skeptical about all of this, of course, but there was something about her that made us believe. She said the book was part of her past, that it housed a piece of her soul. But there was another piece that had nowhere to go. Couldn’t move on.

“She told us that she could place that piece inside your mother so that it could be reborn. But we wouldn’t have a normal child, it wouldn’t look like us, wouldn’t ever really be ours. The child would be her, her spirit given form in a living host. Gwyneth said that our child would have power, would slowly remember who she was as she grew older, but so long as she was under our care, she would be our daughter.”

“She didn’t really give us a chance to say yes,” Eliza took back over. “Or maybe we didn’t need it. The next thing we knew, we were back in our tent, open book in hand. It went against everything we believed in, and against all reason, but we took the book, pinning its theft on one of our colleagues. Your father and I joked that it was just an odd dream, a strange coincidence. But soon as we came home to the states I was nauseous. Sure enough, I was pregnant.”

Eliza looked at Mare and smiled, reaching her hand across the table, but Marie kept firmly to herself, waiting for the end of their story.

Stephen cleared his throat.

“We, uh, well after you were born we thought that maybe we’d just gotten lucky. You looked so much like us when you were little. But . . . as you got older, around seven or eight, we could tell. I hid the book in my study, hoped that maybe if I kept it as far away from you as possible, maybe everything would be fine . . .”

“But it found its way to you,” Eliza spoke up, her eyes glazed over. “I remember watching you from the kitchen window walking into the woods and I saw that . . . that creature. But you kept going back and I couldn’t stop you so,” tears began slowly streaming down her face.

Stephen feigned stoicism, but Marie could tell he was just as emotional.

Marie was silent, lost in thought.

Odette swirled the wine in her glass considering it, she was hoping to come to this with a bit more tact but Marie confronting them sped things along for the same results. “I’m seeing a common theme with this conversation and I am-” She rolled her hand at the wrist, gesturing vaguely, “Confused. You met Gwyneth in person, yet you are scared of losing your daughter? She gave you what you wanted, a child. Who is growing into her destiny? Why are you upset?”

She pointed with the rim of her glass at the pair of Heartfords, “Keeping her from what she needed only delayed the inevitable.” Blunt, her voice pulled back from the higher pitch she had been maintaining. “You got what you wished for.”

“Have a little pride.”

They eyed Odette with no shortage of surprise. Both Eliza and Stephen assumed she must have known just as much as Marie, but neither were expecting such a blunt response.

”They’re afraid that when I cease to be Marie, they’ll no longer have a daughter.” Marie spoke up with more edge in her voice than intended. She’d given it plenty of thought. The idea that her parents weren’t truly her parents, just caretakers, was overwhelming. But a memory returned to her, one she’d experienced days before, of herself as a little girl being driven into the arms of the forest. Gwyneth hadn’t known the love of a parent. All relationships were marred by betrayal. With Eliza and Stephen, however, it was different.

”As much as you don’t want to hear this,” Marie leaned in closer, saying with conviction, ”I am Gwyneth Owens. We are one and the same. There’s so much I still don’t know about myself, so much that I have left to learn, but I had a life before I was your daughter, I had ambitions, dreams, everything that, as my parents, you should support. And even though I’m more aware of all of this now, I’m still Marie. The daughter you knew hasn’t changed . . . much.

“Strange as it sounds, when you met with me years ago, I chose you to be my family. I don’t really know how all of this works yet, but I know that it wasn’t a coincidence. I’m as much a Heartford as I am an Owens, whoever that may have been. You let me decide to leave, you never forced it, you never tried to change things after I was born. You were good parents, and you’re still good parents. You’re still my parents even if we aren’t technically related, so don’t worry about losing me. I’m exactly where I need to be.”

Odette reached for the decanter and topped up her glass and then Marie’s, sharing a meaningful look. Marie established her roots, slowly she would finish building her foundations. If her parents truly believed she wasn’t going to change much from now and when she would be completely reunited with her soul, they are about as naive as that statement was. Now wasn’t the time to point it out, they were far too close to gaining access to Mind. “Thank you for being honest.” Odette said instead.

Stephen and Eliza looked to one another thoughtfully, holding back their emotions as best they could. Knowing what the did about Marie, about Gwyneth, it was hard to take in. On the one hand, they’d been gifted a miracle, but on the other, they would lose her to a strange and unnatural fate. Perhaps the time they’d shared with Marie in her younger years was enough.

Marie sipped on her wine, taking in the silence. She’d said her peace, but inherently she knew it would never be a comfort to her parents.

”Speaking of the book,” Marie swiftly moved on. Now that the cat was out of the bag, she saw no sense in delaying her mission. ”where is it? I lost it when I was younger, but I know it’s still in the house.”

Stephen cleared his throat, wiping his puffy eyes with his sleeve.

“Um, it’s in my study upstairs, locked under a glass display.”

“So once you have what you came for, what then?” Eliza mumbled between labored breaths. Her tone was pointed, motherly. “This was just for you to find your book again, right? Now that you’ve found it, will you leave, will you stay for dinner, what happens now, Marie? After you moved out, I expected a little distance, but I silently hoped it was because you were making friends, carving a place for yourself, one that you would share. What now? Will you move on, forget about us?”

“Eliza . . .”

“No, Stephen,” she cut him off, “Dammit we raised you! Whatever deal we made, I gave birth to you, Marie. You’re my daughter, our daughter. Of course, I’m not happy with all the secrecy, all the strangeness, all the uncertainty. I want to know what’s gonna happen to you and, as your mother, I think I’m owed that.”

Odette resisted the impulse to roll her eyes. “For heaven’s sake, Eliza. You and Stephen are at the root of that secrecy.” She said. “If anyone is owing here it is you and Stephen. Who else would have been better to guide Marie in discovering this side of herself than you? Who made the first deal with Gwyneth and spent the next couple decades ignoring it.”

Odette turned to Marie, “There’s also no real way to know what happens. Gwyneth is a unique case.”

Marie wasn’t sure how to feel. As much as she didn’t want to admit it to herself, she agreed with Odette. Had her parents been more forthcoming, had she known about this aspect of her life sooner, she might have been reunited with her memories years in advance.

”She’s right. I don’t know what will happen. My life might pick up where it left off, who knows? I’m grateful, mom, but as for what happens next, you’ve forfeited your right to know.”

Marie quickly stood, walking out of the dining room, into the foyer, and up to Stephen’s study on the second floor. She motioned for Odette to follow, trying to drown out any and all second guesses with thoughts of her Mind.

Eliza and Stephen Heartford were dumbfounded. Twenty-four years they’d cared for Marie, all for it to come crumbling down in one evening, at least, that’s how it felt. Perhaps they were wrong to deny Marie her birthright, and this was their punishment for not upholding their end of the bargain.

---

Stephen’s study was a sprawling labyrinth of shelves and displays littered with relics of bygone eras. From each dig he’d accompanied, Stephen took a souvenir, something to study in his waning years, that he might never lose his passion for art, culture, and knowledge. Marie spent precious few moments there as a child always shooed away at the door for fear that she would break something, mild-mannered as she was. That didn’t dissuade her from talking the occasional midnight stroll through her father’s private gallery, though she never paid close attention to any particular item in his collection.

Stationed behind his desk beneath a colossal painting of a world map, there lay a most ornate set of displays. At their center, stationed on a slightly raised podium, almost like a lecturn with a glass case, was the book from Marie’s vision, a leather tome with intricate silver vines running the lengths of the cover, forming a knotted latch over the pages to keep them safe from intrusion. The case itself was decorative only, perhaps protecting Stephen’s possessions from dust, but not a one was locked.

Carefully, Marie lifted the glass case and lifted the book, known to her and Odette as Gwyneth’s Mind. Marie was almost giddy as she placed the book on her father’s desk, running her fingers along the spine, searching for any hint of a memory that might be bound to the book’s glossy surface. She’d almost forgotten about the fiasco downstairs, hoping that her parents would simply move on, and allow her to do the same.

“It’s easier when they are separate. Having no avenue to comment or have a concern. If they care at all of course.” Odette said eyes on Mind as well, feeling the excitement coiling up within her as well. It was thrilling to brush a soul as they are. What else would they learn? “You should open it, it won’t be locked to you.”

She reached to touch it… bringing her hand back. “Go on.”

Marie nodded, running her hand over the lock, opening it with the gentlest touch. The front cover fell open, revealing the first page, a dark piece of parchment slightly worn at the edges. There were no words, but a diagram, perhaps a seal of sorts, bearing a classic medieval illustration of a mandrake root, no doubt hand-drawn by Gwyneth. She touched the page, feeling the subtle lines of the ink and coarse grains of the paper. A visible spark trailed behind her fingers, giving Marie a shock that sent her into a trance.

---

Gwyneth opened her eyes, breathing in the crisp morning air as it mixed with the sweet vapors of her current fumigation, a mixture of bay leaves and cloves. She watched the thick smoke pour from her censer, a brass bowl fitted with a domed lid that sported small openings all around, as well as a large opening at the top, much different to traditional variants. She wafted the smoke in her direction, holding a crisp piece of parchment a small distance from the incense, blessing the page with certain virtues.

A Mixture for Wealth, Success, or the Means by which to Attract the Forces Thereof, read the top of the page. Imbuing the page itself with fortune wasn’t a necessity, Gwyneth knew this. But it gave the words life, meaning beyond their meaning, a measure of success that might not otherwise be attained. It was by no means a complex spell, not by the standards of those uptight magicians in London. Simple, in some cases, was much more powerful that pomp.

Satisfied with her work, Gwyneth pressed the page into her formulary, marveling as became part of the tome itself, by her design, of course. This was the latest of a string of enchantments inspired by the witches in East Anglia, they who danced most closely with the Man in Black, and most openly. A country of witches, men often called it.

“I have the hand,” came a distant voice, echoing through the empty hall of the dimly lit barn, whose upper half had conveniently transformed into a living space sans the owner’s notice, though he often remarked to himself that he heard strange noises late at night, but was rendered utterly oblivious by the mice the witches sent down on occasion.

Into the rafters flew a young man, the farmer’s hand, eighteen and spritely, with silver eyes and copper curls that spoke of his unnatural heritage. Away he’d been sent by Gwyneth to fetch the left hand of a man recently hung, one that the pair would attempt to fashion into a Hand of Glory. The Anglican folk had charms lining their windows, and daggers ‘neath their doors. A witch couldn’t get in without a charm of greater power, something macabre.

”Excellent!” Gwyneth exclaimed, jumping from her seat, taking the hand from her warlock helper, and kissing his pale cheek. ”With this, we’ll find fortune yet, this and the potion I’ve fashioned. A fine dress I’ll take for myself, and a horse we’ll buy. Make the coming and going less of a chore.”

Their excitement was tempered by the march of ten men, carrying with them torches and oil, their faces obscured by masks drawn over their mouths or large hats covering their eyes. Twice in two months, they’d happened upon her, self-righteous men who laid claim to her life, as if it were theirs to claim.

No, but their lives would be hers.

At the end of their march, the men set the barn aflame, watching with satisfaction as the fire crept up the walls, forcing the ceiling to collapse. But Gwyneth feared not. The flames of retribution would surely turn against them. Beyond a veil of black smoke, she issued a silent command, embers falling from her fingertips. Flame spread beyond the confines of the barn, turning and weaving in their direction, slithering like the cunning serpent. It halted their movement, trapping them in place. Their buckets of oil burst, splashing boiling, burning, hot liquid onto their flesh, scarring them forever, those whom she let survive.

Gwyneth and her companion fled, taken by a cursed wind, further into the country, escaping into the forest that promised them shelter. When at last Gwyneth opened her eyes and saw safety, it was not in the thicket of branches and leaves, but among friends, a friend, welcoming and foreboding, scheming just as she.

---

Marie lurched forward, having fallen back in her chair during the memory, gasping for air as if caught in the flames herself. She coughed out of instinct, covering her mouth and taking a moment to collect herself, feeling a strange warmth creep through her body.

Odette watched Marie sink into a deep trance, sucked into memory and vision. She wouldn’t dare to touch the book now but curiosity burned to know what she was being shown. Bach came in shortly after. There was no question that needed to be asked, she looked at him expectantly. He nodded, his little bits of mischievous sabotage confirmed Odette’s suspicions. Marie carried in her a special aspect outside of her witchy destiny to return to power, hinting at what Gwyneth had spoken briefly of before.

“What did you see, Marie?” Odette pressed.

Marie took a few more deep breaths before speaking, allowing her vision to fully return. She was flooded with a mix of overpowering emotions, but she managed to maintain control of her composure this time.

Holt appeared shortly thereafter, taking his place at Marie’s side. He felt her emotional flux, the inner turmoil experienced during her visions. Offering only his presence as a comfort, he decided to remain silent for the moment, taking in her words.

”I saw myself,” Marie started, sitting upright and flipping through the book, ”I was writing in the book somewhere in East Anglia. We, myself and another witch, were planning to create a Hand of Glory when we were discovered. The barn we’d been staying in was burned down, but I managed to turn the fire back onto our assailants and send us somewhere else.”

”Witch hunters?” Holt questioned, comparing this memory to the one in Nevada, the theme of Gwyneth’s life becoming clear.

”One betrayal after the next,” Marie looked up at Odette, ”That’s what you meant. She . . . I was constantly hunted. It was peaceful, at first, but they wouldn’t let me be. Mortals never stop . . .” she trailed off, searching through the book for the page she’d seen in her vision, as well as any she might have recognized from her childhood.

Odette nodded, eyes scanning her body language then the pages as she flipped through them. “You didn’t have a very good affinity for mortals, the pitchforks and torches being a bit on the nose.”

“When I spoke to Gwyneth… She all but threatened to burn me alive if I ever considered betraying her. It turns out I am not the only one with a penchant for theatrics. . .” She smiled a little, “I believe her of course, theatrical yes but no less serious.” She finished.

“May I see it?” Gesturing to the book.

Marie nodded, stopping on the page she’d scribed in her vision, a potion, and a charm to help one find fortune. She only understood the writing at the top because of having seen it through old eyes. The script was rather ornate, written in a mixture of old Welsh and what Marie assumed was a fey dialect, and the rest of the page held botanical illustrations and alchemical formula likely written in a pattern that made sense to Gwyneth upon writing it, but that would need to be decoded by anyone else.

”This might sound strange, but when I came to, you seemed more familiar to me than before, like we’d met somewhere else, although I suppose we have.”

Marie searched her mind for the words, words she’d been reminded of by Odette’s comment.

” . . . 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.” she recited the words with ease. ”I think that’s what I said. You’re right, very theatrical.” she smiled.

That grabbed Odette’s full attention, there was no hiding her shock. “You remember. That is considerable progress. Can you read what you once wrote? I recognize some words but the others are a mystery.” She was hopeful if Marie was able to comprehensively read Mind it could very well trigger more memories.

Bringing them closer.

Marie shook her head.

”I know some of this page, but the rest would take time. Strange that I could read it when I was younger. And I get the feeling that its part of a series of texts, or at least the companion to another volume. This is only a formulary. Botanical information, recipes for potions, powders, elixirs, tonics, herbal talismans and smaller enchantments, a couple of folk chants and rhymes by the looks. I’m guessing that another book will turn up eventually.”

Marie could hear her parents pacing downstairs. The evening had been thoroughly ruined and there was no salvaging it, not here anyway. She needed time to look over her formulary, time to reflect.

”Holt, can you bring my bags from my room?”

Holt nodded, swirling past Odette and Bach to retrieve Marie’s belongings.

”I think it’s time for us to move on. We got what we came for. Can you take us somewhere else?”

“That is a little disappointing you can’t read it yet but I suppose with more time it’ll be easier.” She held up one finger, “Before we leave I must thank the hosts, it’d be completely rude to leave without saying so.”

She stepped out of the room, heading into the kitchen while Marie gathered her things. She spotted Eliza and Stephen. They froze at the sight of her. “Thank you for hosting us this evening. The company was enjoyable and accommodating. While things turned quite sour, at no fault of our own. I will leave you a gift.”

“Anything less would be wrong. Do you accept it?”

Eliza and Stephen shared a cautious look, their expressions marred by excess emotion. They’d had enough surprises, enough gifts to last them a lifetime. And yet, there was a subtle intrigue to Odette, something distinctly otherworldly that piqued their curiosity, despite themselves.

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” Stephen stepped forward, arm wrapped around his wife, bringing her with him, though she was reluctant. “Although with how things went tonight, I feel like we should be giving you two something . . .” Stephen tried his hand at humor, realizing shortly thereafter that he had, in fact, gifted them with Gwyneth’s book, or its whereabouts at least.

“I’m sorry you had to be here for this,” Eliza spoke up, “but we won’t turn down your generosity.” She was skeptical, of course. Afterall, Odette had let loose a few choice words, even if they weren’t particularly colorful or rude. Still, perhaps another bottle of wine or something to that effect would calm her nerves.

“Very well.” She brought her purse up to the counter opening it, she stood on the tips of her toes her arm reaching down deep into the magical confines of her purse. She was well up to her shoulder, hand searching for the particular gift. Sounds of glass clinking, unrecognizable growls rumbled from the clutch. Odette pursed her lips, snatching something to bring it back up.

In her hand she cupped a little bulb, sprouting some vibrant purple stalks poking up from chalky white fibers. Soft to the touch. “While Marie will no longer live here she brought with her a very special trait. This gift will emulate that to some degree. Plant them, nurture them, and never thank them - only provide them with what they need and they will do the same for you. Understood?”

They stared at the little bulb in the palm of her hand, nodding reluctantly. “Thank you.” She brought Eliza’s hand up and deposited the bulb into it. Bowing her head to the hosts she turned on her heel to leave. Core values satisfied, Bach nodded from the door - Marie was outside with her luggage.

Fixing her hair, rearranging some bobby pins she asked, “Ready to leave?”

Marie nodded.

”I’ll need some time to study the formulary, and I forgot to mention, the regent to the covens in Nevada tasked me with delivering special tokens to specific witches in the south and on the east coast. There are a few here in Massachusetts. Do you have any business here, or maybe you’d like to accompany me?”

Odette fished her phone out of her purse, scrolling through her calendar. Getting a feel out for covens would help scouting areas for the new portal. “I currently don’t have anything pressing to attend to. Perhaps meeting with the witches will be productive, trigger more clues for the next item. See if any of them are open for business.”

She typed a few things then locked her phone, she brought her hands forward opening a new portal. The unlikely pair of mystics left the beautiful Victorian home behind, fresh memories, and a fresher take on Marie’s personal past brought with them.

The lab was a nice addition to Mindy’s list of birthday presents that year. Darius had insisted on waiting until Mindy had reached an appropriate age until she could have her own lab, and while the lab provided by Snowflake was nice and all, it was lacking in a few areas that qualified as a “Real” lab. Thankfully, Dr.Dougherty was just nice enough to give Mindy her own lab, and what’s better is that it had top of the line chemistry equipment. Everything from X-ray machines, to hospital cancer equipment was stocked in that one lab. Mindy had tried to be excited by the new prospects that would come from working under Dr.Dougherty, but she couldn’t quite shake the feeling of dread whenever she thought of medicine. She never told Dr.Dougherty about Soundria, but Darius Winters knew.

Darius had tried to calm mindy when her secret got out, and explained to her that now that she has a new lab, she potentially find a cure for it. This was just before they all heard the Beatles being played throughout the lab, and subsequently all across the city. “What…?” Darius had asked, confused. He looked around the lab, trying to find the source of where the music was coming from. He looked at Mindy. “Is...this the problem with Soundria you were trying to tell me?” He asked. He stood in a nicely pressed suit, with a tiny little jay feather and folded cloth sticking out of the breast pocket.

Mindy gulped, and nodded. “I don’t know what causes it. It’s like...the medicine has a mind of its own.” She said. “I did tests on it a couple of months before I got the call.”

Darius nodded, still looking at the corners of the room, trying to find speakers. “The buyer you mentioned, correct? Charlice Goodoire. Why was she even interested in it? You said before she wanted it for her...daughter I think, but that seems kind of spur of the moment, don’t you think?” He asked.

“Yeah,” She said. “I don’t know why she was really interested in it. Maybe it was for...herself? I’ll be honest, I can’t really blame her for cracking. The first time I came to Eris’ house, her husband had beat her to a pulp, that poor woman.” Mindy shook her head sadly. “She must have just stopped functioning when that car crashed through her house.”

Darius sighed heavily, as the song started to fade out. “So...I’m assuming the Beatles are being played as a direct result of...Eris Goodoire. Is she okay?” He asked.

“They, Mr.Winters. And, I don’t know. I’d say we should hunt them down before they do something brash, but I don’t even have any equipment that could catch Eris in the state they’re in.” She walked to one of the desks, and picked up a large text book on molecular biology. “Whatever is controlling Eris now is really strong, and it’s not just backed by cells and molecules. There is some other third party in Soundria. And it calls itself Surround Sound.”

Darius blinked. “Wait. You mean...it’s sentient? As in the medicine can think for itself? Mindy that’s…”

“Incredible? Astounding? A breakthrough in the medical world? It would be if Surround Sound weren’t a strange, unempathetic monster. I don’t even know how it could have...gained sentience, since that’s definitely not a part that I included in the final formula for Soundria.” She said, flipping through the pages. They were all annotated, and marked with notes for Soundria’s final product. “I did every single ounce of research I could into past Schizophrenic medicine, and I don’t think I ever once came across a recipe for sentient pills!”

Darius could feel her anxiety growing. “Mindy, I understand. This situation is far beyond your control now. I’m a little mad that you went ahead and did this without my consent, but I think I shall save the scolding for later.” He walked over to her, and put a hand on her shoulder. “Right now, we need to figure out a way to fix this. If there’s anything you need, anything at all, I will immediately get it for you so you can fix this. Just stay calm for now.” His voice was level, and soothing. Mindy breathed in deeply.

“Right. I can fix this. I have the notes, and the...formula...I can…” She stood on shaky feet. “Eris is gonna hate me…” Darius tried to steady her feet, but she seemed close to falling. “They’re gonna hate me forever...this is all my fault...their life is ruined because of me...It’s been two weeks, what has their mother done…” Her breathing grow heavier and heavier, until she blacked out completely and fell on the Lab floor. Darius yelled for help.
……………..

Mindy woke up in a hospital bed, presumably put there after she had passed out, and gave Darius a tiny scare. She felt a tiny bit dizzy, and her eyesight was fuzzy. She tried to raise her arm up, only to find that it had been strapped down. Did she move in her sleep? Darius sat in a chair next to her bed, and he stared at her with red, tired eyes. She tried to speak, but her voice was tired and hoarse sounding. She looked over at him, expecting a response, but Darius merely patted her head, and said “Go back to sleep Mindy.” And she did.

A day had passed and Mindy had finally woken up. Darius was not there when she had woken up, but she could hear his voice from the hallway. He seemed to be arguing with someone, and from what her fuzzy mind could gather, it looked to be about her. She couldn’t quite make out what he was saying though, her brain felt to out of place at the moment. Darius returned to the room, and audibly gasped when he saw that she was finally awake. “How are you feeling?” He asked, cautiously. She tried speaking again, and her voice felt a little better.

“I feel…” Her voice came out like a croak. “My head feels weird.” She said. Mindy looked behind Mr.Winters only to notice a girl in a dark green suit, and short combed hair by the doorway.

“Darius, I feel you should reconsider my propisition.” She said. “Charlotte can sense something terrible coming your way.”

“I already told you! And..I am not having this conversation again, especially not in front of Mindy.” He spoke sternly. “Mindy is just fine. She just had a little panic attack and it got to her, right Mindy?”

Mindy was confused, but she couldn’t deny that she was in this bed because of her anxiety. “Yes…” She croaked.

The girl sighed. “Fine, as you wish. But, if this ends boiling over, don’t hesitate to call me.” She said. “Paradox’s doors are always open.”

Darius nodded. “I know, thank you.” he said. The girl left, and walked out of the room. Mindy looked at Mr.Winters, confused.

“Who...was that?” She asked.

“She’s...an old business partner, I guess. You could say she’s a prodigy like yourself...but, her talents lie elsewhere.” he explained. Mindy looked around at the small hospital room, on her desk next to her were get well soon cards, and candy. The other prodigies at Snowflake must have heard about her collapse. “They’ve all been worried sick about you for the 48 hours.” Darius said. “But, you’re better now, so I guess you can handle a few visits from them.”

Mindy nodded. She could handle seeing people now, but she cringed when Darius said 48 hours. Had she really been knocked out for that long? Her anxiety had never actually knocked her out like this before, so she wasn’t really didn’t know what to expect. Whatever the case, she was feeling a bit better now, and was ready to face her problems head on. While there was the issue of finding an antidote for Soundria, there was also the prospect that Eris would never forgive her for her recklessness. She breathed in deeply.

A few months had passed the last time Mindy had been in the hospital, and she stood in her new lab proudly over the final formula for the Soundria Antidote. It had taken a while, but finally she had made the cure. She had worked tirelessly, night after night, until tonight when she had finally felt she had failed. She will admit, crying over her creation was probably not the best way to go about handling pressure, but when she had tested it out, it proved to be the perfect antidote.

Now all that was left to do was to try to get in touch with Eris. It had been long time, but she was certain that maybe if she tried to explain herself a little, Eris would understand, and accept the antidote. Maybe things weren’t as rocky as she thought they were. She packed the lab up, and made sure to carefully preserve the antidote where it wouldn’t be destroyed.

She left the lab that day, happier then she had been for months, and called Darius up. She informed him that the Antidote was ready, and that now it was time for the witch hunt. She had no idea where Eris or Charlton had gone off to, and Max had mysteriously disappeared from town as well. It looked as if they had gone into hiding, presumably from Ms.Goodoire, who had vowed to track Eris down on national tv a few months ago. She wanted to find them before Charlice could, but she also knew she would have to get to them before Charlice got it into her head to sue Mindy. The woman has been so caught up in trying to find her daughter that she hasn’t really thought about who she got the drug from. And because Eris disappeared before others could catch them, the only side of the story heard by the police was Charlice’s, and they were a bit reluctant to believe that a girl in her teens had managed to destroy a million dollar home with the power of music. But they eventually decided to trust Charlice’s judgement, especially considering they are having to deal with a giant woman fighting giant robot.
…………..
welp, here is a post in Mindy’s perspective like I promised!

---

---

Chris blinked as a bottle of water appeared in front of her face. It took her a long second before she proceeded the new information. She reached up with a slightly shaky grey hand and grabbed the water.

"Thanks." Chris croaked out. She blinked down at the water, unscrewed it and took a drink. As soon as the water hit the back of her throat she began coughing against the accumulated grit and grime.

Chris groaned as the building began to settle wrong. She shifted the concrete around her as best as she could. She could feel sweat trickle down her back despite the layer of stone between her and the world. She tried to focus on keeping the crumbling building from continuing to crumble. At least while she was under it.

"It's shifting." Chris finally said. One of the many engineers pipped up.

"Can you move another support to the lower left quandrent?"

Chris felt her teeth grind together and she vaguely wondered as she worked if pretend superheroes get good dental. Because after today she was going to have no teeth left after they all cracked and fell out of her mouth.

There was another groan somewhere deep in the structure; then nothing.

"Okay." The same engineer said. "Quickly, before it destabalizes again."

Chris sucked in a ragged breath and spat out a disgusting wad of grey grit. A firm hand slapped her on the back.

"Good to know you're human under all that stone hero." The man who passed her the water said attempting some levity.

Chris's knuckles were white as they clenched the steering wheel. She wasn't sure if her old beater of a car would survive the trip, but she knew she had to try. The news station she had tuned her car's radio drifted in and out of clarity.

-fsxxt-ilitants have moved into -fsssshst-are. They're cutting a line of destruction through the c-shhhxxxt- and the heroes are hard pressed t-fxxsh-

Chris pressed her foot down harder on the gas petal. The whine of her engine was alarming but it was still the last thing on her mind. She could now see smoke rising on the horizon. Just ahead of her was a road block of cop cars.

Chris attempted a smile. It felt weird on her face considering the circumstances. But there it was. "Hero?" Her voice was still craggily so she took another swig of water.

"The only hero I see is everyone around." She raised the water bottle as she gestured. "Not one of you have special powers yet you're all here. Risking your life for strangers."

The flashing lights of the ambulance sent the shadows dancing like crazy around Chris. Her hands shook as when pressed them to the ruined floor she knelt on. She had long since abandoned trying to maintain her fledgling superhero identity. She didn't really care if everyone knew what she looked like anymore. Saving lives was far more important. Worth so much more then anonymity.

She felt hallowed out from all of her effort but she couldnt give up yet. Not when she and the rescue workers could hear the desperate cries of the trapped child. Behind her she could hear the murmurs as a few of the structural engineers talked quietly. They had approached her earlier and had asked for her help. She wasn't assigned to this rescue crew, but it was a unique problem. They didn't have updated blueprints of the building and if they shifted the rubble in the wrong place they might crush the people inside.

They could get the plans but it would take time. Time the child might not have. It was a race against time. Less and less people they pulled from the debris were alive. It was horrifying and if Chris failed here it'd be another dead soul to add to the list.

Chris focused on the concrete under her palms. She could fell the texture of it, the weight. If she grabbed at it, it would move. She knew this. But she couldn't feel any further. She felt tears prickle at her eyes and blinked them away. She had to do this. She had to save this child. She HAD to.

A surprised look crossed his face then he too smiled. "I'm just dojng my job ma'am."

"We all are." Chris agreed. The two of them lapsed into silence as they sat on a chunk of rubble, staring vacantly at the relief efforts still underway.

Chris easily lifted the larger woman up and into the waiting arms of two large firemen. Her cries of joy were a welcome counterpoint to the prevailing undercurrent of grief.

"Thank you! Thank you!" She cried to everyone around her.

There was mostly silence as efforts continued. Hours ago someone found a working TV and had tuned into a world news station. But they had turned it off a little while ago. Nothing much new had been reported and what was being reported was depressing.

"Food." Another relief worker called out. It was a woman this time. Chris couldn't tell her age under the exhaustion that sat heavily upon her. She accepted the offering with a small thanks. She blinked at the wrapper. Jimmy John's.

There wasn't much time to come up with a cover story as Chris slowed to a stop at the roadblock. A police officer stepped up to her rolledmdown window.

"I'm sorry miss. But this whole area is closed off. Please turn around."

Chris's mouth opened before she could think through her plan. "I'm here to help."

The cop's mouth pressed into a thin line. "I'm sure you think you'll be helping but this is best left to the professionals."

"I'm S.T.R.I.K.E." Never has Chris been so thankful for her darker skin for when she blushed it wasn't obvious.

The man looked skeptical. "ID?"

Chris carefully unwrapped the sub and ate methodically. It was strange just sitting here and eating and watching others work. The need to be helping shift rubble was strong. But she was tired and she knew she needed the rest. And as awful admit was, the team's were beginning to switch away from rescue to recovery, despite the thousands still listed as missing.

Chris stood uselessly to the side as a mother clutched her dead child to her chest. Her wails echoed loudly in the space. Even at her lowest Chris hadn't felt this terrible. She had pushed and pushed her powers away. Was this the price? Was this her punishment? If she had a better grasp of them, could she have felt, could have anticipated where the building's structure was weak?

If the crews could have worked faster with her aid that child might still be alive. Another mother wouldn't have to mourn the passing of a child. A life cut short. Because of Chris. Because of what she couldn't do.

"Look." Chris pointed towards the jagged horizon. The first colors of dawn were reaching up into the night sky.

The man next to her looked up. The two of them sat there shoulder to shoulder watching dawn breakover the devastation.

Chris had never seen such wreakage in her life. People killed like ants over what had once been a vibrant city full of Life. But now it was a tomb. A husk. Screams and cries assaulted her ears even though she had covered herself in a thin crust of stone.

"You Gargoyle?"

Chris turned to look at a middle aged woman with a clip board.

"Uh- Yes." She replied inelegantly.

"Good. They radioed up what you can do. I've assigned you to Alpha Team." without waiting for response the woman took off at fast clip leaving Chris to run to catch up.

With the water and food finished off the men and women of Alpha Team got wearily back to their feet. The only ones resting in this ruined city today were going to be the dead.

Although not everyone had arrived yet, most of the heroes, who had gathered at Sherman Square and had not gone with Icon to neutralize the Hounds’ satellite, were present. Since time was of the essence, the rest of the heroes would just have to follow along once they have arrived. If they were to dawdle too long, the ringleaders of the Hounds would surely slip through their fingers, allowing them to continue their crusade again everyone who was not a pure human.

One of the ‘heroes’ approached Iron Knight. She was wearing a mask and googles over her face, although her fizzy blonde hair was still exposed. Chris recognized that this girl was one of the newcomers, who was not present with the heroes he had assembled three months ago to deal with Doctor Diplodoc and his mutagenic domes.

“Still here willing to help, Iron Knight. Let us be the unpredictable element here, point us at what needs to be broken and we can guarantee it. My powers let me manipulate matter down to its core elements,” The girl explained to Chris. “I can literally make holes in their defenses or walls.”

“Lady Hex disintegrated their weapons and Pantheon took on a mech barehanded. We can operate non-lethally. Right, Pantheon?” The girl tried to make a case for herself and her friends.

“As Concerned Citizens, we just need one chance Richie Rich.”

“We need all the bodies that we can muster,” Chris began his response, “But we also need team players. If you can follow orders and work as a part of a team, then welcome aboard. Otherwise, you guys better go home to Quidditch practice and leave this to the professionals.”

During the Pax Metahumana crisis, crashing through the front door of the villains’ base turned out to have been the correct strategy, since the doctor behind the domes had no intent of escaping. However, in this situation, such a strategy might prove ineffective. The leaders behind the Hounds were without a doubt making their escape. They would not stay put when they planned to reduce Lost Haven to cinders. By the time the heroes would have searched the entire base, the ringleaders might gain just enough time to make their escape. The heroes needed a way to cut the leadership off without having to stumble through what possiblely could be a labyrinth of a secret base.

Fortune, however, was on the heroes’ side that night. The Hounds, whom Chris had knocked out with tranquilizer darts, possessed gear that was connected to the Hounds’ base. With a little brute force applied to these systems, Chris had access to the schematics of the base, along with the likely escape routes. This was the break that the heroes needed. This had to end tonight.

“We’re going to need to cover three additional escape routes,” Chris explained to the gathered heroes. “First, there’s a supposedly abandoned repair garage about a block inland. Everyone who’s mobile enough to cover that distance in a short time should go with Slipstream. The Hounds also have an airlift on one of these rooftops nearby. Flyers and those who want to accompany us should follow me. There’s also an underwater dockyard just sixty yards down this waterfront. So, whoever stays behind needs to either unearth that facility or guard the exit here. Any questions?”

Outside the Hounds Base

---

Pantheon landed softly, shirtless and pants tatters. Alchemyst leveled precaution his way, he gave it no regard. Doing it her way would mean it would take longer than necessary. Injured bodies still had willpower and an inkling of revelry for their cause regardless of if their bodies would return them the privilege of fighting for that cause again. Mold these Hounds into little less than lifeless husks and there would be no more attacks. Do it.

Never. But this fighting was too much. Hassan was exhausted. How easy to blind a mind from itself once it had spent all its waking hours in tug and war. Aggression burned; weak thud of disjointed things braced one another: Hassan knew he was weak--these were not battles he could fight on his own; Pantheon knew Hassan needed him for that very reason. And he would force a suitable host out of the boy before she came. Time was not on either of their sides, and Pantheon had to do his work quick if he, and subsequently, the boy, were to survive.

Sculpt a child’s immaturity into at least the beginnings of responsibility, and perhaps he would see clear what was in front of him--what was haunting him. Had the child not yet felt that snare that was greater than Pantheon’s? Of course he hadn’t. He was too busy thinking about all the ‘cool’ things Pantheon would allow him to do. Somehow, Pantheon had to focus the boy’s mind; thus, they were here. Pantheon first had to make the boy find his limits. Here would be the testing grounds.

The pure energy of which he was composite swirled within him; it was something like… nerves. Pantheon felt tense, a sensation which the boy--when he was disembodied from Pantheon--knew as fear. It curled up inside him and made Pantheon’s face tremble. Customary confidence packed into a hurried flair of words,

”We will take the helicopter, then, man of tinfoil.” he hurried off, without the Iron Knight’s direction. He landed atop a random building.

Down to one knee he went as though forced. Sparks of that mystic electricity rippled around his body wild; the palleted iris’ joining at once to a singular deep brown and yellow tint. He was shaking. He looked up from his supplanted position and saw nothing but a world black. A quiet. In this new black, much like the one he had first seen, Hassan found himself as he was before Pantheon--a boy. Alone. Before him stretched a vibrant, shimmering crystalline-ruby quartz thoroughfare. His face glowed a crimson, discoloring the pupils of his eyes to that of the road below. No sound; he could not breathe, and he had found himself weak. It had been a considerable amount of time since he had last practiced his abilities as a mage, Pantheon had become his crutch.

For the first time in a while, he felt his own thoughts swirl into his head: those of video games and slurpees and girls. There was nothing to be had of fighting tyrants or destroying mechs or shrugging bullets off like fragile male egos. His moment of requiem was short, for from the blank crystalline road spun a woman. Her person formed from a swirl of rainbow-light. Chaotically curious as he was, Hassan moved toward her and she toward him. He saw nothing well in the astral plane, not like he used to. He could feel his own mind slipping from this plane of existence already.

Before he knew, she stood right in front of him, towering over the petite young man at a height only feasible in this plane and in one’s dreams. It was when he reached out to touch her that she shrunk down to his height with immediacy. There had been a black object in her hand that he had not noticed before; she held it in front of his face. It was Pantheon’s cape. She spoke,

“Ask yourself,” Pantheon’s cape levitated in the air and was spun around; where there had been no body attatched to the cape there now was one. It was Pantheon himself: clothes in tatters, holes puncturing his chest, gashes lengthening across his body from the shoulders to the hips, eyes swollen shut, head hanging lifeless to the side, mystical energy replaced with crimson blood dripping from his head to his feet and burning into flame when it touched the crystalline ruby road below. She held Pantheon in one hand, strewn up by the cape without slack.

“What will I do when I find out what he will cost me?” she held the lifeless Pantheon in front of her, and with a single word, Pantheon turned to dust--dust which she blew in Hassan’s face. The world around Hassan cracked, splinters in the sable black sky; the apparition disappeared in that same whir of rainbow light and dispersed into the breaking astral heavens. The road beneath Hassan sheared once and then shattered completely, and he fell. Down, down, and into nothing.

A lightning flash, a concussive force, Hassan’s soul was violently shoved back into the immobile and tranced Pantheon who was still fixed on one knee.

”No. No! NO!!” a single boom of thunder rolled across the sky, followed by a whip of lightning which sounded like it had several screaming voices trapped inside it. The sky itself flashed dark for but that single moment before returning to daylight.

Pantheon was afraid.

---

Madalena remained silent as she and Alchemyst were escorted to the Hound base a short distance from Sherman Square. Pantheon, their makeshift chauffeur, was a brute of a man, but, to Maddi’s surprise, had enough restraint or self awareness not to crush the two of them in transit. Flight didn’t bother Maddi in the slightest, quite the contrary. In the brief period she’d been able to enjoy her newfound gifts, experimentation with flying ointments was one of the first pieces of magic she employed . . . with varying degrees of success. When all of this was over, she would need a moment to herself, time to take a midnight flight over the city.

Upon arrival, Madalena looked to Charlie, studying what expressions she could make out behind her goggles. One stress filled night after another, and it was beginning to show. She looked resigned, exhausted, and there was a subtle tremor in her legs. But fierce determination won out, as shown by the way she carried herself over to Iron Knight, chest puffed, shoulders back, spine straight, chin held at an angle that suggested she saw him less as a leader, but more an equal, rather, she thought herself his equal. It brought a thin, half smile to Maddi’s face.

”Still here willing to help, Iron Knight.” Alchemyst exclaimed as she waltzed up to the man in the metal suit, leaning on her staff in a way that suggested a bond with it, as if it provided the strength she needed to be present and speak her mind.

”Let us be the unpredictable element here, point us at what needs to be broken and we can guarantee it. My powers let me manipulate matter down to its core elements. I can literally make holes in their defenses or walls.”

Madalena moved closer, placing herself only a few paces away from Charlie as she gave her speech. She looked back to catch some of the late arrivals streaming in. There was a strange confidence in being part of a group, Maddi thought to herself, sizing up her compatriots, if she could even call them that. In her mind, Hex had certainly proven herself formidable, but was she fit for a team? She mulled it over a few times before hearing her name.

”Lady Hex disintegrated their weapons and Pantheon took on a mech barehanded. We can operate non-lethally. As Concerned Citizens, we just need one chance Richie Rich.”

”Hear hear,” Madalena whimsically voiced her approval, tapping her cane on the stone a few times as pseudo-applause. She turned hopefully to Iron Knight, awaiting what Maddi hoped would be a thoughtful response. Of course, that wasn’t in the cards.

“We need all the bodies that we can muster, but we also need team players.” Iron Knight replied, his tone cautionary, almost accusatory. Madalena wondered how well Marie had worked with him and the others before. Perhaps it was that experience that led to his response.

”If you can follow orders and work as a part of a team, then welcome aboard. Otherwise, you guys better go home to Quidditch practice and leave this to the professionals.”

”Wow,” Madalena scoffed, taking a few steps forward until she stood directly right of Charlie. She’d expected a stern reply given Iron Knight’s propensity for leadership, but his final comments were more dismissive and mocking than constructive.

”Nice vote of confidence, boss man.” she mumbled, turning to Charlie. whom she noticed was turning a shade or two darker. Maddi heard only a portion of Iron Knight’s instructions before pulling Charlie aside.

Charlie worked to restrain a rage fuelled comment at his remark. It was all accumulating into immediate irritation, stress, being fired at by rockets not once by twice this week, taking on the Winter Court. Did Iron Knight wake up missing memories or did he somehow forget the role magic played in the fight against Doctor Diplodoc? Charlie remembered watching the Pax crisis happen across the news. His shitty joke would have been tolerable any other day. But today, it inspired rebellion. Having all intentions to play along were thrown out a 23rd storey window.

When he suggested covering the three different locations - the repair garage, the docks and the helicopter pad none of them were immediately appealing to the likes of Hex and Alchemyst. Capable as they were, they were stuck on the ground.

A million snarky, biting responses were waiting a the tip of her tongue. Pantheon’s quick departure and blatantly ignoring her - it gave Charlie the extra second to show a little restraint for once. Their obvious way to get around flying away. Leaving them with only one option available to them. “Right boss man - sir. You know what? We’ll guard this exit right here.”

She bumped Maddi’s elbow with her own, “Seeing how our ride just flew off, neither of us are mobile enough to keep pace with speedsters and flyers. So we’ll be here, hashing out when the next quidditch practice is. Being team players.”

If her smile was visible it was strained and faker than fool’s gold.

“We can handle things here.”

Madalena nodded in agreement, a low chuckle escaping as she sifted through Charlie’s sassy reply.

”Good luck,” she said sarcastically, saluting Iron Knight with her index and middle finger before turning back to Charlie.

”Guessing the plan is a little more involved than just being ‘team players?’” she whispered. ”I love it! Y’know, I think this is why Puck does what he does, plots are a lot more fun than whatever the ‘heroes’ are planning.”

“You’re goddamn right we aren’t just standing around playing at being guards.” Charlie waited until he was out of sight before giving her own salute by flipping him off. “What a dick.”

“We wait until the other metas go their separate ways, we head in through the front doors here sealing it in behind us. We disable as many Hounds as we come across, quietly. Go snooping for anything that could give us an edge against the General.”

She shot the headquarters a wary look, “I ain’t assuming the Winter Court doesn’t have its own resources to survive the Hounds buckling. We’re not leaving this shit show empty handed either.” She offered her fist to bump. “You and me, we’ll get through this.”

Maddi smiled, bumping Charlie’s fist as they waited. A memory returned to Madalena, something said in passing that helped form an idea. Her eyes lit up.

”Puck mentioned this to me shortly after you and I met the Witchfinder. He made it seem like the General had been working in and around Lost Haven prior to the Hounds rearing their ugly head. I imagine that the Hounds probably appropriated some of his intel and allies in exchange for the same. I’ll bet they have a file on him somewhere in there.”

Maddi’s excitement was short lived. A stray thought drained the color from her already pale face.

”The last time we went into enemy territory, we were in no real danger. The Court was expecting us. Not just that, but I assured the General that you were an asset. If he discovers that the Alchemyst and a mysterious witch in her company waltzed into the Hound HQ and stole his personal information, he’ll put two and two together. My cover will be blown and Lady Hex will have been for nothing.”

Charlie didn’t have an immediate answer. Cog’s turned in her head, they couldn’t leave a trace behind. Something to keep focus on The Alchemyst and the Alchemyst only. “Yeah you’re right. We haven’t been exactly subtle. We have to protect ourselves. What I have in mind might just get us some notoriety from both sides.”

“I torch it all. We grab what we can and I torch it the old fashioned way so the General can’t coerce some other poor witch into connecting magic to this. It’d leave no trace as to what was stolen and what was torched.”

Her eyes followed Blacklight’s arrival with Roadblock, the authority figures in all this. They would know who torched the hard copies, if the Hounds were smart they already nuked their electronic database.

They didn’t need to destroy it.

“What do you think? Torching it means our asses are covered but there’s no way we can cover up to the cops, they’d know it was us in there setting fires. They’d be pissed if their hard evidence was gone.”

Maddi thought on this. On the one hand, she didn’t give a damn about Lost Haven PD or the remaining members of STRIKE. Her identity was well concealed, but just as with the General, incriminating herself too much as Lady Hex would be for naught. On the other hand, maintaining at least a partially decent reputation among the other heroes of Lost Haven, even if she never intended to join them, would only be to her benefit.

”What if we just copy the Witchfinder’s files? Kind of a long shot to assume the Hounds have a standard office set up, but that way we leave the paper trail intact for the police and we get what we need.”

Charlie perked, “Genius! That’s what we’ll do, wear some gloves photocopy the files we need and slip it back in, cops and the General will be none the wiser! Ha!” She said, excited at the simple fix. “Who the fuck needs to be-” She used the best pair of air quotes, “‘Professionals.’”

Together they waited at the front doors as more heroes arrived and dispersed to where they saw themselves fit. Charlie busied herself by collecting the kevlar armour off the knocked cold Hounds, she scritched alchemic formula across a notepad before applying it. The vests themselves were a bit too large and bulky for her liking. Lifting the fibers and applying them to her forearms, trying to replicate the vests, knowing full well they wouldn’t be nearly as effective in their original state. Regardless, it was some much needed support to her arms and a layer of protection she didn’t have before. Using the ceramic plating she wrapped them around her calves. The new weight was noticeable but could give her kicks a bit more omph. Her makeshift armor done, she began rifling through their pockets. Condensing bullet casings, spare change, picking a couple flashlights off their belts - emptying them for their batteries. Only briefly thinking how this must of looked - looting them like she was for resources. It quickly replaced with total apathy, who cares if she scavenged off of the assholes? They weren’t dead.

Her hands froze on a helmet, the distinct shot of fear - the memory of seeing life draining from someone’s eyes. Carefully she pried open the lid of the person she was crouched over shining a light, the pupil shrinking at the light. Clicking off the flashlight she stood back up.

She walked back over to Lady Hex offering one of the flashlights she found. “Here, if you need it.”

Madalena graciously accepted the flashlight and tucked it inside her coat. Nerve-racking as this entire experience was, she felt a strange calm wash over her. Perhaps this was the mission Puck meant for her to take all along, perhaps he foresaw an opportunity to take advantage of the Hound’s weakness. She tapped her cane on the ground a few times.

”Should we run into trouble, and let’s face it, we will, my powers can keep the heat off us long enough to react, but I can’t really control what happens each time.”

Maddi’s craft was strong, and her ability to bless or blast was far more potent than the average witch, but her gifts came with unexpected side effects, mischievous mishaps that were always to her favor, but not always something she could anticipate. Her supply of witching tools was also desperately low. Perhaps she knew a sorcerous word or two that could come into use, a magic square she could etch with her scepter, maybe a physical enchantment or conjuration, but she knew she was way out of her element. They would both be relying on Charlie’s skills in transmutation. Maddi only hoped their combined efforts would be quick enough to stave off certain death.

”Ready?”

Charlie nodded, maybe with more time she could predict the unpredictable? The alchemist briefly wondered what the math behind that would be. With a firm nod she said,  “Hell yeah. Let’s go.”

Eris stood in the airport lobby, their feet stretched out before them as they sat in the chair. It was a lazy wednesday night, and they guessed no one felt like they had to go anywhere at this particular time, hence why it was so empty that day. Charlton was with them, but he had dozed off an hour ago. His old man genes were catching up to him, however adamant he was to disprove it. The lobby served free coffee, but Eris was never really a fan of the drink, so it didn’t lighten the mood for them at all. Eris and Charlton were both waiting for their friend, Mindy Diasco, to arrive on the 12:00 flight to Jersey. Eris had replayed the scene that would unfold in their head a million times, yet no matter what, they couldn’t quite picture what Mindy would look like or what she would say when they saw each other again.

They never really got to hang out as much as they wanted to, and the last time they did ended rather horribly. But now things are different. Now we can hang out on our own terms. They hoped, at least. Mindy seemed horrified when Charlice had asked for the medicine, and while Eris didn’t blame her for signing those papers, they doubted Mindy felt the same way. She had left abruptly, too shaken to face what was about to happen to Eris back then. Charlice was long gone now, too mentally unstable for them to deal with, Eris had finally come to understand that. Their mother had always been the one to at least give them the benefit of the doubt, but with all that had happened at the party, and how Max had crashed it, she must have snapped from the pressure.

Eris looked up at the clock on the Airport wall, seeing that it was almost 12:00, they decided now would be a good time to prep for the meeting. Whatever had happened then was behind both of them, and Eris never actually got to say thank you to Mindy for helping them escape, even if it was worthless in the end. They got up, went to look outside the window only to find that the plane was in the sky and landing. They took a deep breath in, steadying themselves. They considered playing music, to show off their powers to Mindy, but they thought against it once they remembered that Mindy has no idea how these powers have affected them yet.

They walked back over to the waiting area and nudged Charlton awake, who woke startled quickly trying to compose himself . He didn’t want to admit that he had been caught sleeping, but Eris’ smirk told him it was far too late for that. “I presume the plane is here, now?” He asked, sleepily. He yawned, and got out of the chair. “Let’s go and greet Mindy then, shall we?”

The plane docked and landed, and a few people were getting off of it in a line. Mindy was one of the second to last of the passengers, and when she locked her eyes on Eris’, she immediately ran over, startling a few other passenger nearby. She began to speak rapidly, before Eris could even get a word out themself. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry! This is all my fault, it’s all because I was being stupid, and reckless, and I should have never made that drug in the first place, and I should’ve told someone at least that I was making it, and I should have just refused to sign the papers, and-” She said, in a hurried breath.

“It’s okay.” Eris said, simply. “But, we might want to take this conversation somewhere else more private.” They glanced around at the now crowded airport lobby. People were drawn to drama, and a young girl crying dramatically in the middle of public is bound to draw eyes. Charlton and Eris walked Mindy outside where Darius was waiting for them, right on time with the car. The drive was rather short, they were all meeting up at Max’s place, seeing how he had the closest house to the airport.

As they all sat in the car, Mindy began to explain to them that she had finally cracked the code for Soundria, and that she had developed a cure for it. “So...whatever symptoms you may be experiencing, they can be gone now. I have the antidote, and...I’m so, so sorry.” She kept apologizing the entire time, and Eris kept trying to explain to her that everything really was fine.

“I like the symptoms actually.” They said. Mindy looked at them in horror.

“Really?” She asked, astoundedly.

Eris nodded. “For the first time ever, I actually have something to use against people, you know? People like Charlice, and Robert.” They said. “Also the symptoms aren’t world shattering. It’s not like I have a terrible face condition, or a power so strong it could kill. It’s just cute projections of music.”

“But,” Mindy gulped. “You...could kill. I mean, you shattered the roof of your mansion, Eris.” She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “And while your power isn’t exactly one of the more basic ones, trying to crime fight….it could be dangerous. You’d have to dance your way out of situations, wouldn’t you?”

Eris laughed. They said thoughtfully, as they softly played a song from their ipod. It was supposedly off, but Surround Sound was just that powerful. Mindy groaned.

“Oh, will you please just take this seriously? I’m glad you’re out of that situation now, but you have to realize a lot of things are changing in your life.” Mindy said.

Charlton decided to speak up for once. “You know sir, Miss Diasco has a point. While fighting crime in small town New Jersey is easy, going full on super hero like the ones on tv...might not favor you well.” He said. “Unless…”

Mindy shook her head, incredulous. What kind of authority figure is he, that he actively supports his kid crime fighting? Eris perked their ears.

“Unless….what?” They asked.

“Unless, of course, you find out a way to utilize your powers to combat certain situations. Like bank robberies, and muggings. You’d have to really think about how you use your power.” Charlton explained. Eris nodded, in understanding.

“Yeah, I could always use more practice using it. But it’s not like there’s a master of Sound Manipulation out there, I’m the only one of my caliber.” They said. “You know anyone who knows about music, attack wise?” Charlton cleared his throat, and glanced at Darius.

“Darius knows someone.” Charlton said.

Darius peeked up from the road, shaken out of his monotonous day dream once he heard his name. “I know who now?” He asked, confused.

“You know someone who can help Eris with their powers?” Mindy asked. Darius ducked his head, slightly embarrassed by all the attention everyone in the car was giving him now. He guessed he and Mindy had one more thing in common.

“Well...Yes. I do, but…” He began. “She can be quite persistant. She isn’t a mean girl, not at all. But she is rather passionate about her business, and…god, the business is the hardest part to explain….” He shook his head tired.

“What business?” Eris asked. “Tell us.”

Darius sighed, and sat up straighter. “Her name is Leila Mayner. She is the head of an agency called Paradox. Think of it like Snowflake, but instead of prodigies, it’s the supernatural.” Darius explained. “Paradox is a wonderful company, there whole shtick is that they use supernatural powers to solve impossible problems. There are...alot of secrets the world holds, and Leila knows all of them. Any fantasy creature, or mythical monster you could think of is at Paradox HQ, either living as an assistant, or working as an Agent.”

“Wait...Leila Mayner…?” Eris thought on the name. “I think I know her! Me and Charlton actually came here to meet her!”

That surprised Darius, and Mindy was still trying to wrap her mind around an Agency possibly filled with unicorns and dragons. “Wait, you know Leila?” He asked.

Eris nodded. “Granted, I didn’t know she had an agency filled with mythical creatures, I just kind of assumed she was a really young king pin or something.” They said. “I mean, she wears a green and white suit, and she has a little pin on her coat that she keeps showing off to me everytime I see her.”

“So wait...does this mean....are unicorns real, Darius?” Mindy asked, mystified. Darius chuckled.

“Yes, Mindy. Unicorns are definitely real. I haven’t seen one, but I have seen some other crazy stuff before.” He said. Mindy huffed.

“You lied to me! All these years, you tried to get me hooked off of My Little Pony dolls, and unicorns were totally real the whole time!” She said, exasperated. “I feel betrayed.”

“It was only because you kept trying to make ‘Creating a real life unicorn’ your side project for about 2 years. Mindy, I love you, but I cannot allow you to take the Victor Frankenstein route.” he said. “No child of mine is going to drop out of college so that she can make a synthetic pony with wings and a horn out of dead horse parts.”

She crossed her arms, “Victor was misunderstood…” She muttered to herself.

“Anyway.” Charlton changed the subject. “Leila can help you hone your skills for the better.I believe you mentioned there was a training facility at Paradox?”

The car pulled into Max’s driveway. “Well, we can talk more about it later, right now we-”

The door to Max’s house burst open, and out poured a blanket of flame. They could all feel the heat from inside the car, and for a split second they were all blinded by the light of the fire. Charlton was the first to abandon the car, and Mindy and Eris were the last. Backpedaling furiously away from the house, they watched as it burned.

A figure, wreathed in flames and soot came out of the house. It was Max, completely uncathed somehow from the blast. Eris squinted their eyes to see, as they thought they saw someone much smaller in frame next to him. Their eyes widened, happily.

It was Leila Mayner. She held Max’s arm gently, and surrounding them was a faint, green aura. Max looked rather shaken up when he got closer to them. Eris ran up to meet them. “Max!” They said. “What the hell happened?”

Leila placed the shocked man on the ground, where he sat in a stupor. “He is in shock at the moment.” Leila explained. “Hello Eris, it’s a pleasure to see you in Jersey.”

Eris looked back at the burning house. How did they not see the flames before they rolled into the driveway? Then, another figure walked out of the building. This one seemed to be surrounded in flames, yet he did not panic. He wore a patterned poncho, and and walked out on blackened feet. “Woah…” Mindy breathed from behind. “It’s like…the fire is coming from him. Like, he has wings made out of flame.”

Eris blinked confused at the whole scene. They wanted to know so many things, like what were they doing here at Max’s house, and why is the house on fire, and whose the guy with the showy fire wings? Leila surveyed all of the stunned guests, and simply smiled.

“I know this looks bad, but I can definitely fix it. Don’t worry. And I apologise on behalf of my friend here.” She gestured to the newcomer. He had sand colored hair, and an unusually tan skin tone not really found in this part of Jersey. “We came to discuss Eris’ powers. I brought Phoenix here as a peacemaker of sorts.”

“He burned my house down!” Max yelled, as his house burned in front of all of them.

Leila sighed. “Yes, he did. And I am truly sorry. Here, Charlotte can fix it up for you.” She raised her hand, and like a rocket, a flurry of luminescent green moths flew from her palm. So many filled the air at once, it was like a green cloud had suddenly appeared. Her suit jacket flared a bit from the wind of their wings. The Moths circled the house, at first in a miserly fashion, but soon taking on a faster pace until they blurred together. When they lifted off from the house, the Moths flying higher into the air until no one could see them anymore, the house was completely fine. There were no scorch marks, or tale tell signs of a fire having been in the house.

Max ran into the house quickly, and when he came out he looked dumbfounded. “Everything is...back to the way it was. Nothing is scorched.” He sounded dizzy. Eris and the gang were, at this point, gaping at Leila and Phoenix.

Mindy looked amazed, the Moths had been one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen. Charlton was stunned, as he had seen superheroes in action before, but he had never seen something as mystical as that. And Darius just looked done with her, in a more annoyed sense. Eris thought she was way cooler than they had originally perceived her.

“You said something about Powers?” They asked, completely on board with whatever Leila said next.
........

Leila is actually one of my oldest characters, so I'm happy to use her in something, and I hope you guys enjoy the story I have planned out.

“So,” Mindy began slowly. “Paradox is like...The Men in Black? But with unicorns and dragons instead of aliens?” She sat at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee in her hands, as she stared dumb founded at Leila Mayner. Charlton had gone to sleep a few hours ago, Eris said it was because he was getting up there age wise. Darius sat next to Mindy, his head in his hands. He was tired as hell, and the coffee that Max had made really wasn’t helping at all. Eris had decided to explore most of Max’s house, while Max himself decided to sit on the sofa, and keep an eye on Pheonix, the so called “Peace Maker” that Leila brought with her.

Leila calmly sipped her tea out of a mug. “Well, we do have aliens mind you. We have a bit of everything at Paradox.” She answered. Mindy nodded, as if she understood finally. She really didn’t.

Darius looked up from the table with tired, sagging eyes. “Okay, so you said you wanted to talk to Eris about Powers, but it’s been about an hour, and the only thing anyone has done is tried to explain how the unicorns fit into the equation.” He said. Leila sighed, sympathetically.

“I know. I did come to talk to Eris, but…” Leila glanced thoughtfully sideways at nothing. “They don’t seem as enthused as they were before.”

Mindy couldn’t deny that. An hour ago, Eris seemed down for anything Leila had to offer, but the minute they got the answers they needed to all of their questions about Paradox, they went galavanting off to explore Max’s small home. Mindy doubted they were even actually exploring, as it couldn’t possibly take this long to explore a house this small. “Well, this seems like a wonderful idea. An Agency that solves impossible problems…” Mindy said. “What kind of problems have you had in the past?” She pointed a thumb at the sofa where Max and Pheonix were sitting. Max was staring suspiciously at Pheonix, as if any moment now he would burst into flames again. “What kind of situation needs a human torch as the solution?”

Leila smiled, and put her mug down. “Ah, I could be here all day just recounting the many cases we get at Paradox.” She said. “If you must know, Pheonix’s first case involved solving the mystery of the Bemuda Triangle.” Mindy almost spit out her tea, but Darius perked up at the words “Bermuda Triangle”.

“You told me that story before. Of course, back then I didn’t believe you. Hell, I knew you had weird stuff at Paradox, but I didn’t think it was weird like-” He too pointed to the sofa “that kind of weird.”

“The Bermuda Triangle?” Mindy asked confused.

Darius nodded. “It makes way more sense than it sounds, trust me.” he said. “But he uses his Powers to solve the mystery for some lady who came asking about it.”

Mindy really wanted to know how Pheonix could have solved a mystery like that with literal fire power, but she realized how late it was getting. “While I really wanna know, I don’t think we have any more time. But we’ll talk it over with Eris.” Mindy said, wondering what was up with their unusual behavior that night. Mindy went to go find Eris, while Darius prodded Charlton awake. Mindy could hear the butler snort and yelp as she walked down the hallway to Max’s room. The door was open, the light was on, and Eris was rummaging through Max’s things. “Eris, what are you doing?” She whispered, panicked. Eris looked up, and beckoned her closer to the dresser.

“Great your here, I need you to find a green moth pin for me.” Eris said. Mindy shook her head, trying to wrap her head around tonight, and all that she had learned.

“Eris, now is not the time to be snooping!” She whisper shouted. She joined Eris by the dresser. They had removed most, if not all of Max’s clothing, frantically feeling the sides and corners of the chests.

“I’m not snooping.” Eris explained. “You know the pin on Leila’s jacket?” Mindy nodded slowly. “Well, thats how she gets in touch with people. And I’m betting that’s how she found Max.”

“Why would Max have a pin like that?” Mindy asked. “He didn’t even know about Leila till tonight.”

Eris moved on to the closet. “You’re right. He may not know who Leila is personally, but I bet he knows an Agent. Ha!” They came up with a small, silver and jade Moth pin. Mindy’s jaw just about dropped.

“So...Max does know an Agent.” Mindy said. “Well so what? What’s that prove?”

“Nothing on Max, but on Leila…” They said. “I don’t think she knew we were coming here to his house. In fact, I don’t think Pheonix is here as a Peace Maker.”

“Are you saying she’s like...an Assassin or something!?” Mindy exclaimed.

“No, of course not. She isn’t here to kill anyone. But Pheonix did burn the house down. And Leila’s Agents are always composed. They do exactly what she says, and I know because I’ve seen one before. He was some asian guy, but he did everything Leila asked, even down to fetching her a glass of water. I can’t imagine this Pheonix guy would just burn a whole house down for no reason.” They explained.

Mindy looked at the pin in Eris’ hand. “And she never scolded Pheonix once about anything. She just apologized.” She said. “This is weird. We can’t spend all night thinking about it up here, though. We have to go now.”

Eris pocketed the pin, and began to clean the place up a little until everything looked halfway decent. Mindy stood in the door way, thinking. “The only thing I can’t think of is why Max wouldn’t say anything. Unless Leila threatened him.” She said.

Eris shook their head. “Nope. Leila doesn’t shake people down. She’s a peaceful type.” They said. Mindy wondered how Eris knew Leila at all. She would have to ask them sometime, if she could remember to do so on top of everything else. They left the room, Charlton and Darius were at the door, and Max was seeing them out. Leila still sat at the table, and Pheonix had joined her. They must still have more to talk about.

The drive to Eris and Charltons small apartment was a little long, and by the time they got their Darius looked just about dead with sleep. He had booked a room at a hotel for them to stay in while they were in town. That night, Mindy didn’t get a whole lot of sleep. She kept thinking about what the Moth Pin could mean, and why Max had one. She wasn’t entirely convinced at first, but when she noticed that Leila and Pheonix stayed behind, she knew it had to be a little bit true.
……………..
Hey I feel like I didn’t make this clear in Mindy’s bio, but both of her parents are on active duty in the military, so Darius is sort of looking after her until they come back. one reason why her parents were considerate of Snowflake, and not the other offers was because when Darius came to meet them, they had both been called away to serve, and had to leave pretty soon.

no atmosphere this time, its too short a post lol.

I laid out the now depowered metahuman right next to the other two individuals, whom Pinup, Kensei, and I had defeated earlier that evening. It took some effort from the three of us, but we finally had subdued the burrowing superhuman and removed the Hound’s berserker device from him. While we were busy with the metahuman, the Pacific Point police department had already evacuated the remaining civilians, who had not made their escape at the onset of the commotion, from the 5th Street Promenade.

“You two should go now,” Kensei once again reiterated his opinion, which he stated prior to the third enraged metahuman had appeared. However, Pinup in response placed her hands on her hips and threw some sass back at the samurai.

“Really? Even after we proved our worth by helping you out? What nerve.”

“Maybe he’s right,” I interjected. Although I did not want to undermine my friend’s position, I also had to speak up. I could swallow my pride, like a professional athlete, who plays through a concussion, even though his couch should pull him out of the game, but that probably would not be the right call. “I’m not feeling 100 percent. Even though we go through this one, what if I’m a liability in the next fight?”

“You should really listen to your friend,” Kensei recommended to Pinup. “The threat seems to be neutralized here.”

“If that’s what you want, then we better figure out a way to ditch the paparazzi,” Pinup finally admitted after caving to my and Kensei’s suggestions.

“I’ll handle that,” Kensei muttered before retrieving three, small pellets from within his tunic. He then hurled the tiny spheres against the ground. A large plumb cloud arose from the spot where the pellets had impacted against the ground, shrouding the three of us in a chalky haze. At first, I thought that the smokescreen was so thick that I couldn’t see my hand a few inches in front of my face. However, once the cloud started to disperse, I still couldn’t see my hands, as if they were invisible.

“This will provide you with approximately 10 minutes of invisibility. Use it wisely,” Kensei’s disembodied voice warned Pinup and me. After that, neither of us heard another word from him. I guess he was already making his own escape, too. While I stood there, vainly looking where the samurai had dashed off to, I suddenly sensed something starting to reach towards me. I instinctively sidestepped in the opposite direction. However, just after I took a few steps, it dawned on me. The only other person, who could have been around me, was Pinup.

“You know, you could have just said something.”

“I know,” Pinup answered back, “But this is such a weird sensation. It’s like wandering in the dark, but in board daylight.”

“What are you doing?” I snapped at her when I felt two hands press up against my spider abdomen.

“I just thought it would be easier if you gave me a ride since we live, well, you know.”

“I am not a horse!” I argued in vain as I felt Pinup crawl up onto the back of my cephalothorax.

“At this rate, if you don’t get going, you’ll be giving the media a money shot whenever this invisibility powder stuff wears off.”

“Fine—” I grumbled. I was, however, relieved that her arms were wrapped around my waist. Thank God I didn’t have to tell her to keep her hands low.

With Pinup in tow, I dashed towards a nearby shop building and scaled up its side. Once we were on top of the building, I started to hop from rooftop to rooftop. After the first block or so, everything became a blur. It was the same thing over and over again, except for the few times when I had to scale down to the street level whenever there was not a nearby rooftop within jumping distance. About halfway through our journey, the invisibility that Kensei had given the two of us had warn off, but by that time it was already starting to get dark enough that it would not have mattered.

“Why are we stopping?” Pinup asked when I halted about over a block away from our apartments.

“While it’s getting late, it is not dark enough for me to sneak into my apartment without someone spotting a giant spider-woman.”

I then reached down and deactivated my power nullifier. At once, my costume and my arachnid physiology melted away, leaving me with my ‘normal’ human body and the clothes I had been wearing before the attack on the 5th Street Promenade.

“God, that’s so convenient. Wish I had one of those.”

“You have no idea how much time it saves taking off and putting on clothes while I look all spidery.”

“So, are we going to talk about this?”

“Yes. ” I answered back, while standing in front of the fire escape. “But maybe some other time. It has been a long day.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

I started to climb onto the fire escape and head down. However, I stopped when I noticed that Pinup was not following me.

“Coming?”

“Probably not the best idea for you strolling across the street with a superhero. Kind of defeats the purpose of changing a block away.”

“Good point. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”

I then walked down the fire escape and through the alley way until I reached the nearby street. After a short trek to the Viera apartment complex, I was finally back within the safety of my home. The first thing I did once inside was to throw myself on my bed. It had been a long day. Yet I knew that I was not going to sleep well tonight. Not from the destruction I had seen. Sure, most of the craziness that happened this evening would give the average person nightmares for months, and I’m not saying that my superhero career gives me immunity to these horrors. In fact, some nights, I can only fall to sleep after my spider sense has been calm for several hours. But I was not afraid of physical fears. I’m afraid that I’ll see the same things I saw in my living nightmare.

---

---

As he lay on the blue and white sands of the mostly deserted shores of ecuatorial Magrathea, gazing at the beautifully colored but probably-far-too-close-to-be-healthy-to-most-lifeforms Horsehead Nebula and munching on his third piece of fried Magrathean alk-pabreth, it occurred to Gabriel Corbyn, the Andromedan, that it was yet another one of those nifty little cosmic coincidences that the Magratheans had developed fried tofu-like food at around the same time humans had. The Universe, he thought, was a wondrous place, and he smiled softly to himself as his human teeth engaged in the bewildering labor of cutting through and crushing the almost familiar yet entirely foreign texture of that tasty, possibly glutten-free concoction. The sound of the wind and the water surrounding him mingled with the tune of Vangelis' "To the Unknown Man" coming through his headphones, giving him a feeling of transcendental serenity.

In short, Gabriel was having the best of times, and was too lost in it all to notice when a rift in space quietly opened several feet behind him. It was not until a smiling man, with red skin and long white tentacle-like protrusions for hair, actually sat down beside him, that he finally regained some awareness.

"Oh, hey, Takol," he greeted with a widening smile of his own, immediately raising his armful of food towards him. "Want some?"

"You do realize that there are Magrathean phytoestrogens in that stuff, right?" Said the former Andromedan, a hairless eyebrow raised over his black eyes. His voice always sounded like he was purring, with a bit of an echo to it. There was something unique about the vocal cords in Takol's species, although Gabriel was not a biologist and his curiosity for the discipline ended where talk of bones and organs began.

"Well, it better have phytoestrogens," said Gabriel, pushing a fourth piece entirely in his mouth and chewing with defiant determination, even as his tongue started to give him mixed signals. The aftertaste was certainly unique. "Otherwise it would mean that the cook lied to me about alk-pabreth being just like Terran soy stuff, and they seemed really nice and honest."

Takol hummed, lips pursed, but finally reached for a piece and gave it a tentative nibble.

"Magrathean food..." He sighed, blowing air through his flat nose. "Always too salty, and it's not even like Terran salt. If you really wanted good non-Terran food, you should go to the Dentrassis."

"Think I could take my family with me?" Asked Gabriel, finishing the last piece and chucking the disposable plate in a little rift in space. "My dad can't afford a vacation and my mom has been dying to do something fancy and exotic all together for years. I bet they'd enjoy eating with the Dentrassis."

"Did you just use a spatial rift... as a litterbin?"

"There's a red giant on the other side of it, so it's more of an incinerator."

"That's incredibly disrespectful to stars... and stupid," said Takol, and both his eyebrows were raised in disapproval. "What if the star's heat made it through the rift and incinerated you?"

"Hey, I've doing it for years... and without a beacon or an anchor," said Gabriel. "So, clearly, it's not that dangerous for me."

Takol did not say anything for a while, but his disapproving look remained... and somehow it burned just like a red giant.

"So... no family vacation?" Gabriel asked, his tone meek, as he sat up, legs crossed.

His mentor and predecessor sighed loudly. "Actually, I did the same with my family... and more than once. So, even if I objected, which I should, I wouldn't... what's the phrase? Have a... leg to stand on?"

Gabriel nodded, grinning, and Takol grinned back with some exasperation. The two gazed back up at the nebula for a bit.

"How long have you been away from Earth, Gabriel?"

"A couple Earth weeks, I think?" he answered, combing a hand through his bourdeaux hair. "I wanted to visit the Nigundals in Gliese and see how their colony was doing... and then, while on the way back, there was trouble with Krikkit... yet again. I spent a whole week helping evacuate cities, protect refugees and negotiate peace... and then, for some reason, a Vogon constructor fleet came fully armed to Magrathea just as I was about to try alk-pabreth for the first time. It turned out to be a big misunderstanding and very few people got really hurt. But it was hard."

"That does sound like an intense adventure," said Takol, nodding to himself. "Don't get very complacent about it, though. I once spent about three Earth years away from home. There was a major war and we did not have nearly enough cosmomancers to make it end quickly. A couple weeks is difficult, but it can get worse, and you need to prepare yourself spiritually for that."

"I'll keep that in mind, thanks," said Gabriel. "So... did you come here just to check up on me or...?"

"There might be something afoot. A large-scale problem, brewing under the surface."

"That's extremely vague, Takol."

"Humor me, Gabriel."

"Okay."

"The point is, I think you should return to Earth and stay there until further notice," said the older man, standing up with some effort. "The others have already returned to their home planets. It's not much of a strategy but, then again, we don't know yet what sort of problem we might be looking at."

"How do you even know there is a problem?"

"We're space wizards," Takol deadpanned.

"True."

"Just... you know... stick to planetary-level heroism for a while. It's healthy. Keeps you grounded."

"I do like rescuing kittens from trees and helping firefighters," said Gabriel without any sarcasm in his voice or expression. He really loved kittens and his father had been a firefighter.

"But don't overuse your anchors."

"Got it," said Gabriel. "Thank you, Takol."

They hugged. Takol had not liked hugs at first, but Gabriel had proven very persuasive.

They parted ways like only cosmomancers could, each jumping through a spatial rift of their own making, the spheres showing almost incomprehensible sights, nonsensical shapes and colors shimmering, swirling and intermingling. In his first journey through space, before he even met Takol, he had seen with his own eyes that there was a space between spaces. Or rather, that there was a plane of existence between the borders of visible reality, a cosmic neutral territory of sorts, where the laws of the Universe only existed in a warped, illogical form. It always reminded Gabriel of the small handful of acid trips he had taken in his more 'party animal' days.

He felt the energy of the beacon in the necklace around his neck, pulling him away from Magrathea and towards a pale blue dot, the forces of the plane moving his body faster than the speed of light without him feeling it. With a motion of his outstreched arms, a flick of his fingers, he created a small tear in the fabric of the plane, and through it he could see home.

As he fell through the rift, the warmth of the Sun on his face and the breeze in his hair, his music player changed tracks, and a remarkably fitting melody took Vangelis' place.

---

There was not a cloud in the blue midday sky, and Berkeley was under siege. A small contingent of Hounds had come in the morning, targeting several known meta-human activists among the students and faculty in the campus.

They had attacked viciously, aided by several loosely coordinated gangs and militias of fellow meta-human haters. Berkeley was a minor starget in material terms, but a successful massacre of meta-humans and their left-wing supporters in such a high profile institution, with a history of political radicalism, would have great symbolic value. Well worth the expense of manpower and equipment, and the annoyance of dealing with the more disorganized groups.

Even with help from local police, the barricades around the university had not been able to withstand the sheer power of the Hounds, and Berkeley's defenders had now retreated into the buildings. Cries of fear and pain were constantly interrupted by loud banging and crashing, and the ground trembled with the explosions. At least two people had died, and there were countess injured. The more powerful meta-humans kept hope alive, fiercely resisting the onslaught, even joking aloud as they beat down a foe, but things looked grim.

One of the meta-humans fighting in Sproul Plaza was hit, her stomach bleeding profusely as she fell to the ground. A trio of non-meta students rushed to her aid, not caring that they would be surrounded and outpowered. They applied pressure to her wound as she kept telekinetically hurling whatever she could get her mind on at the Hounds and their allies, and tried to drag her back into Sproul Hall. The Hounds were closing in.

One of the non-meta students got shot in the chest, barely missing his heart or any major artery. The Hounds were too close now, and there was nowhere to run or hide. They huddled against each other, grabing and flinging everything they could grab, silently pledging to take as many of them down with them as they could. Maybe they would slow these bastards down long enough for the others to make it.

Then something cosmic happened. It happened not quite at the last second, not quite like in an action movie, but it happened at a helpful enough time and with a lot of flair.

A rift in space, spherical and full of weird stuff, opened in the middle of the plaza.

And from that rift came a young man with bourdeaux hair, dressed in what looked like some sort of tight-fitting black and purple armor, right out of a cheesy sci-fi movie. And he was wearing headphones, the faint but audible melody of "Ziggy Stardust" coming from them.

The student who had been shot in the chest gasped aloud.

"Gabby?" He said with some effort, clutching his wound.

Another student beside him squinted at the newcomer, but then there was a bright spark recognition in his widening eyes. And he smiled with relief.

"Baby!"

"Hey, Jake," Gabriel said, smiling back. And because he was who he was, and even in this context he could not go against instinct, he felt like saying something else. "I really love your new hairstyle."

The Hounds and their allies stared in silence for a moment, frozen in place, weapons held tight but pointed at nothing in particular.

The rift closed with the strangest sound, leaving behind flying sparks of many colors.

The Andromedan looked back, and half-smiled in confusion for the briefest instant. Then his look turned into one of passionate determination mixed with a bit of outrage, and his lips parted to form a not-so-happy grin.

"You are going to leave them alone," he said softly, with genuine feeling. "Right now."

The reaction from the Hounds was immediate: they pointed their weapons at him and tried to shoot.

The operative word being 'tried'.

"Well, I'm sorry in advance," he said with disappointment, and before any of them could press a trigger, there was a veritable constellation of multicolored lights coming from his clenched fists, and the space around them seemed to become distorted.

And then he opened them, moving his arms in an elegant arch and rushing forward.

The entirety of the plaza changed. The ground rose and folded on itself in several nonsensical directions. Objects multiplied as if they had been put through a kaleidoscope and, much like with a kaleidoscope, bright and vibrant colors came to the fore, almost consuming everything. And the Hounds and their allies were trapped in it all, getting pushed with unexpected force into the air, colliding hard with objects on all sides. The Andromedan ran among them, attacking them with his whole body, moving as if he was just dancing to the melody of his eighth favorite Bowie song. The light from his hands, his cosmomancy, enhanced his every strike, cut their weapons to shreds, and created invisible shields that protected him and the students.

To the Hounds, it was like fighting in the most illogical dream, and try as they might they could not land a single hit. Their shots missed their mark every time as their paths became distorted, and they could not even run away and regroup, as the ever-changing environment kept them trapped and disoriented. Many of them became lost in the growing maze of warped space, or found themselves suddenly falling into a rift, and hitting the ground from many feet in the air as they came through the other side. They flew through the air, hit invisible walls, and all the while Gabriel remained mostly unharmed, save for a bloody nose. And he was still smiling.

More students came out of the surrounding buildings, many of them unarmed but nevertheless eager to help. Gabriel protected them from the Hounds' attacks and gave them a spatial advantage. It was a lot to concentrate on at the same time, but with the anchor in his hand he managed.

Soon, all the attackers had been subdued. With a final kick in the head from Gabriel, the last of them fell to the ground, and Gabriel took the reins of his power, guiding the space around him back to its previous state. The ground flattened, the multiplied objects became singular, and colors dimmed. Reality was mostly normal again, and the siege of Berkeley was over.

Gabriel did not waste time celebrating or trying to figure out who the attackers had been. The wounded needed his help, and he immediately went to the one in the worst state.

"Gabby, what the hell..." Said the student with the chest wound. "I've been... swimming with the Space Oddity?"

"Try not to talk, Matt," said Gabriel, holding his swimming teammate carefully. "We're taking you to the hospital, okay? I'm not going to the nationals without you."

"Where were you?" Said Jake, taking a hold of Gabriel's gloved hand. Gabriel almost shuddered with relief as he realized that his almost-boyfriend was unharmed, and squeezed the boy's hand.

"Doing Space Oddity things," he chuckled sheepishly, and gave Jake a peck on the cheek. The sound of ambulances approaching made him smile. Things would be alright soon.

"God, I'm so glad I came back when I did," he said, partially to himself, and gave Jake another kiss.

"These people... the Hounds... they've been attacking everywhere in the country," said Jake. They had met only a couple months before. Nothing too serious yet, but Gabriel definitely liked him, even if he had a tendency to lose himself in some really deep, big thoughts that gave Gabriel a small existential crisis every time. Finding him surrounded by those Hounds, about to be killed, had spurred him to action just as fast as the sight of Matt lying wounded on the ground.

"Yeah, they're meta-human haters, but not like the usual fascist dicks," said another student beside them. "You saw them, their weapons... but it's even worse than that..."

"They just destroyed entire cities with some space laser," said Jake. "They aren't just bigoted thugs. They are actually genocidal."

Gabriel stared, visibly shocked, mouth open. He could not speak.

"Cities?" He repeated, his mind having a hard time coming to terms with the words. He had seen massive destruction before, but it had always been elsewhere. Some space station about to malfunction, a war between alien empires. Never on Earth.

And he had not been here to stop it.

"I..." He tried to speak, but could not find anything to say at first. When he did find the words, he spoke with reclaimed resolution, smiling with confidence. "Well, I'm here right now."

For his moment of self-seriousness, he got rewarded with a peck on the lips from his almost-boyfriend.

The paramedics rushed into the plaza, carrying multiple stretchers. Matt and the meta-human he had gotten hurt defending were the first to get help, then the rest. It looked like the paramedics were knowingly avoiding the wounded attackers, even those whose injuries were life-threatening. He could not allow that, so he quickly got on his feet and confronted them. Words did not get heated, but the implications in the words that did get spoken were plain to see. The paramedics had made a moral judgement, and had deemed the Hounds and their allies undeserving of help, better off dead than alive to hurt innocents another day. Gabriel, never one to passively accept cynicism, was relentless.

"Either you tend to them and take them to the hospital, or I'm gonna do it myself and then publicly call you out for it," he said, not sounding nearly as imposing as his swimmer's build might have made him look. "Please? It's the right thing to do. Whatever they did, we can't leave them like that."

The paramedics were a tad bit exasperated, but not enough to argue further with someone in such a colorful costume and such a positive earnestness in his manners. One of them succumbed to the temptation and shared a kind smile with the somewhat known Space Oddity. The others just gave up, glad that the Space Oddity was at least polite about the whole thing and even helped them get the wounded on the gurneys.

That same night, Eris and Mindy decided to discuss Max and the mysterious Moth Pin. Now that they had each others numbers, they were able to plan things out more efficiently, and thus the new plan excluded both Charlton and Darius. “I trust Charlton more than anything, but...who is to say he doesn’t trust me?” Eris explained in chat. Mindy had been confused, and typed back.

“What, you think Charlton distrusts you? Have you ever done anything to provoke something like that in the past?” She asked. Eris thought for a bit. They sat on the floor of their small room, their knees to their chests, and their phone their only light source.

“No. I don’t think so. At least, I know I’ve been a good kid for most of my life, but Max and Charlton have a...deeper history. They go way back, Mindy.” They said. “Charlton could make me call off this tiny investigation if he wanted to. He might want to protect Max from something, and hiding whatever dark secret he and Leila have is the perfect way to do that.”

Mindy was in the hotel room, in the bathroom. She had to quietly sneak away in order to chat, or else the screen light would wake Darius. The lights in the bathroom were also off, though they didn’t have to be. Mindy was just a little paranoid with all this sneaking around. “I guess I could see him doing something like that.” She said. “He does care about you a lot, and ever since your mom went off on tv, I could see him being even more protective.”

Eris blinked, confused. They typed, “What do you mean, ‘Ever since my mom went off on tv?’ What happened?” They asked. Mindy gulped. She thought Eris might’ve already known, but judging from the local news stations here in Provence, she should have known Eris would be a little out of the loop.

“Your mom went on some talk shows, claiming she disowned you and everything. She’s started some kind of ‘Anti Super’ movement, a bunch of people are rallying behind her, too.” Mindy said. “You kind of spooked Atlanta when you escaped. I mean, the music was just...so loud.”

Eris tried to remember back to that night. Was the music really that powerful back then? They just remembered it being loud enough for everyone to hear, but they didn’t think it would be so loud as to scare people. “Really? I don’t really remember much from that night.” They said.

Mindy typed, “Yeah, you also did quite a bit of damage too. Lot’s of buildings lost windows because of your power. Is this the first time anyone’s told you about that night?” She asked. She would’ve thought, since Charlton was with them, that he would’ve at least told them in some detail about what happened back then. Why didn’t he?

“Yeah...Charlton just said the music was loud, and that the house was destroyed, but colorful. He said I made sunflowers and stairways made out of chilli peppers.” They laughed to themself. “It sounds ridiculous whenever I think about it, but for the life of me...I can’t seem to recall what happened clearly. I just remember the music suddenly changing from Kenny G, to the Beatles. Then seeing Charlice’s scared face, and then suddenly I was on the roof, and walking down the street in a ragged party dress.”

“Party dress?” Mindy asked.

“Charlice wouldn’t let me change. Or rather, she locked my closet door. I wasn’t even allowed to bathe until I escaped and found Charlton.” They said.

“Oh.” Mindy sat without typing anything for awhile. “You don’t have to talk about the...incident if you don’t want to.”

Mindy waited, until they responded finally. “Yeah, you’re right. Maybe some other time.” They changed the topic. “So...about the Moth Pin again.” They said.

“I have some theories. But I don’t think you’ll take very kindly to any of them.” She said.

“Why?” Eris asked.

“Well, I’ve been thinking. What if Leila and Max also have some kind of history together? He can’t be the agent himself, that wouldn’t make sense. But what if someone he knows is?” She said.

“Like a family member? I don’t know about that. I thought about that too, but I can’t seem to find anything on the Heignsworth family. None of them are famous supers, and as far as the media is concerned, they aren’t all that exciting either.”They said. “The only media attention they got was a couple of years ago when they were invited to the Righberry estate, but everyone gets invited there, so…” They blew a piece of hair out of their face.

“The Righberry estate, huh.” Mindy said. “So if it’s not a family member, than maybe a friend?”

“If it’s a friend, then we’ll never find out. We’d sound too suspicious.” Eris pointed out.

“Yeah.” Mindy admitted. Then she sat up, a realization suddenly coming to her. “I bet you know someone who could do a little more extensive background check.” She typed.

“Who are you…” Eris almost sent their bewilderment to Mindy before remembering. “You’re right! The twins!” Kassandra and Kyle Yuuteki would definitely know how to do a background check on someone as obscure as a friend of Max Heinghsworth’s.

“I saw them a while ago. Right before we got into the hotel, they bombarded us with questions. Though, it was weird.” She said. “Because most of them were just about you.” She laughed.

Eris groaned, “I told them I would never do an interview. Interviews are just...weird.” They said.

“I understand.” Mindy said. “Will you still go through with it? You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I’m sure we could find a different way of getting the information.”

“No, I’ll do the interview.”
They said.

“I’ll come with you, just in case.”
She typed back. Eris felt a wave of gratitude that they couldn’t express on through the phone.

“Thank you, that means a lot.”
They said. “So, I guess the plan is tomorrow we find the twins, we do an interview, and then they get us our info.”

“Right. I don’t think Darius or Charlton will question us going out tomorrow. They’d probably think we just wanna catch up, but really we’re trying to unravel some kind of mystery behind a Moth Pin.”
Mindy said.

Eris laughed. “Yeah, just a couple of ace detectives doing their jobs.”
They joked. “Get some sleep, we have a lot of begging to do tomorrow.”
…………………..

jeez these later posts sure are getting shorter.



tonight's atmosphere is a little weird, because normally i listen to music when writing, but I haven't listened to Prince at all in the past weeks, yet I still couldn't get this song out of my head.

There has to be a better way. Senseless violence can’t be the only use of my powers. Sure, saving lives from lunatics does take the edge off of this crappy, thankless career. But pitching a hand to restore this city after one of our superhuman slugfests only goes so far, especially since we’re just cleaning up our own mess. And I bet there are plenty of ‘heroes’ who don’t even bother to do that, either. What’s the point of saving a city when you smash it to hell in the process?

Since going on patrol to beat up bad guys would not cut it, I had to look elsewhere for other opportunities. In this information age, you can easily find fan mail wherever you look. With message boards and internet blogs, people can express their opinions even without an email address, let alone a physical one. Some comments are heartwarming, others weird, and some can make you want to dump bleach in your eyes. Anonymity can bring both the best and the worse out of people. I just try to focus on the positive ones and bury the negative ones.

On my way back home from the clean-up effort for last night’s incident, I made a quick pitstop to change back into my regular clothes and hit up a pay phone. Who knew that these antiques are still around now, with everyone and their five year old toddler having a cell phone nowadays. Thank goodness, too. Using my personal cell phone would just be asking to be outed as Arachne. After checking to make sure the coast was clear, I picked up the pay phone receiver.

“Children’s Hospital of Pacific Point. How may I help you?” I heard a woman’s voice through the phone.

“Hi, I’m calling in response to a letter I read on the internet,” I spoke before pausing for a moment. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach because I was about ready to admit my superhero life to a stranger. Sure, it was going to be over the phone, so she would not see my face, but just saying it out load was nerve racking enough on its own. But I got my composure and said it anyway. “I’m Arachne.”

There was a brief pause before the woman on the other side of the line answered. Obviously any rational person would doubt a random lady calling on the phone and claiming she’s a superhero.

“A girl wanted to see me,” I added to my statement.

“Oh, right. Would Tuesday evening work for you?”

“I’m busy all day Tuesday, but what about Thursday? I’m free then.”

“That would be perfect. Meet on the rooftop at six and we’ll let you in.”

“I’ll be there.”

I would assume they would keep my visit a secret from the girl since they probably don’t want to get her hopes up and have them crushed if I don’t hold up my side of the bargain. Not that I would blame them. I probably wouldn’t believe a stranger on the phone who said that they were a high-profile superhero who wanted to visit a local children’s hospital. Hell, if I were a man, I wouldn’t be surprised if that woman on the other side of the line would be calling the feds.

There was, of course, a catch to this favor. The girl’s letter did not request me showing up in my Arachne costume. Even though there are real superheroes in this world, fictional characters are still popular. Yet this should not come as a surprise. There are books and movies about fictional athletes, detectives, and secret agents. I guess it was just a matter of time before someone ask the resident spider person to dress up as a fictional counterpart, that Spider-Gwen.

Normally, I wouldn’t dare to be caught dressed as that character, especially after Marvel handed me a cease and desist letter and then ripped off my likeness and pasted it on their existing character. I’ve gotten over the cease and desist, since it was probably justifiable, but to do the same thing back to me just ticks me off. But I’m not going to allow this little feud to get in the way of a sick little girl’s wish. If masquerading as a popular fiction character to brighten the day of a child who probably does not have much time left on this Earth, then I can swallow my own pride, especially when that hatred is either unjustified or misdirected.

My plan is more or less simple. I would use that hard-light hologram projector that Talus had recovered from the Game Genie a few weeks ago. With that little device, the costume I would be wearing would look better than anything an officially licensed movie could produce. The best thing about it was that after this little visit was over, all the evidence of the suit existing would disappear. Heck, I bet I could disguise my face and voice with a famous actress, like Emma Stone or something. Since it probably is not ethical, I’m certainly not doing that.

I just hope that I’m doing this for that kid’s sake and not just for my own.

---

The Kármán Line

"I was not aware...space was so far away," Voyager remarked a little breathlessly, glancing downwards as she continued to shoot upwards into the sky. She had lost visibility of the city a moment earlier, but it was still fascinating to see how far she had gone up.

"There's a reason the Enterprise has teleporters," Jordan quipped over the communicator in her ear, letting a little bit of silence hang before speaking again. "Hey...you sure you want to do this Riles? I know the Doc posited your barriers could help you fly around in space but that's one hell of a gamble. If you think you're ready then-"

"I know I am ready," Voyager replied, her voice brimming with optimistic energy. "I think this is going to work, Jordan. It...feels like the right path." There was a crackle of static on the extending radio line that masked Jordan taking a deep, shuddering breath.

"Alright, I trust you, Riles. Now let's try to find that satellite."

"I do not see any sort of God Finger yet," Voyager observed, sensing a thinning of the air as she continued to ascend into the sky.

"Not exactly, surprising. We have a ballpark estimate on where it is at least. Given its purpose it's going to be right overhead of the city and fairly low in the atmosphere for a satellite. I'm triangulating our scanners down here with your earpiece to get a precise lock, so keep pressing forward."

That was an easy instruction, Voyager mused as she kept flying towards an endless sky above. Her first experience flying had been exhilarating, but this was a new sensation entirely. She knew how hard it was to fly like this and how much energy it took, yet it felt easy pushing herself to this extreme. It wasn't really excitement given the circumstances, but it gave her that same positive feeling regardless; like she was ready to take on whatever the world threw at her and win no matter the odds.

"Got it!" Voyager and Jordan both chorused excitedly, Jordan's voice sounding a bit distant and scratchy from the great distance as she continued. "It's straight ahead of you, should be coming into view soon!"

"I know, I saw it just now!" Voyager announced triumphantly, speeding off towards the distant jagged shape before slowing down a bit, unused to the sudden speed that came from the thinning air. Already things felt otherworldly to the alien super-heroine; even her PsiBarriers seemed to be glowing brighter then usual, making her an impressive purple beacon in the inky darkness of the upper atmosphere.

As Voyager drew closer, thinking of what sort of dangerous and scary design the Finger of God possessed, she was surprised at how normal the destructive weapon looked. She hadn't expected something straight out of Star Trek of course, but it was a little surprising that this terrifying destructive weapon that killed so many people looked so...mundane.

Mundane or not, Voyager was intent on taking it out. Hovering closer, she charged up and took aim at the body of the satellite with a PsiBlast, pleased to note her other powers worked fine up here, before the blast dissipated on the surface of the space laser without so much as a dark smudge.

"My energy blasts didn't seem to hurt it," Voyager said clearly. "I think this is it."

"Can...skzt...try to find out...kzzz...fore you shoot it?" Jordan fizzled through the communicator. Swinging around and clinging to one of the panels, Voyager looked over the solar panel detectors on the sides to try and find a weak spot to cut through before dismissing the idea.

"I think if we break part of this thing our knock it away without destroying the weapon..."

"It's going to fire off randomly and probably ruin someone else's day, right?" Jordan piped in, her voice suddenly and miraculously coming in clearly despite the vast distance between them. "Might not though, and you already gambled on the psibarrier, I say we double down!"

"Uh...no," Voyager said flatly, taken aback by her sudden tonal change. "Are you feeling well, Jordan? You do not sound like yourself."

"Ah, I figured I wouldn't fool a sharp mind like that, but it was worth a shot. That element of uncertainty is so exciting!"

"...Jordan?"

"Not quite. Look over here, darling," came an unfamiliar voice over her headset. Voyager did so and gave a yelp of surprise at the figure standing sideways on the body of the satellite. Clad in a suit the tackiest shade of orange she'd ever seen in her life, the newcomer strode towards her like he was walking through a park, swinging a cane from side to side as he approached. He would have been normal-looking except for his head, which seemed to be some sort of skull-sized microphone over a wide, grinning mouth.

"Wh-what-"

"I hope you'll forgive the little masquerade, my dear," the man said. "It makes for a most amusing icebreaker."

"Oh...okay..." Voyager said warily, not entirely sure how to cognitive this situation. "Uh, are you here to help with the satellite."

"Actually darling, I'm here to help YOU, with a little proposition," the microphone man said, cheerily looking on as Voyager attempted to Psi-Beam open one of the panels. "I think we could work well together, you and the fabulous I!"

"I am somewhat busy, Mister Metal-Head Person..."

"Primetime," the microphone man correected. "The greatest showman in the galaxy, as the billing says! Though I would love to amend that to Primetime and...Voyager, you called yourself?" Voyager grunted in annoyance as she attempted to pry off one of the panels, only to be stopped as Primetime stepped on the metal sheet with one of his pristine polished shoes.

"Can we please discuss this later?" Voyager said irritably. "I have a city to save from a giant laser thing!"

"Oh I wouldn't bother, darling," Primetime said flippantly. "This audience isn't long for this world anyway, as the saying goes."

"What?"

"Besides, I'd rather talk about you...about us even!" Primetime barrelled on. "We're both showman and foreigners to this planet, it's a natural combination! Imagine the ratings!"

Voyager's eyes widened at the sound of the word foreigners. "You mean...you're an alien too?"

"Last I checked darling," Primetime said, a pondering look on his face as he took out a compact mirror to look at himself briefly. "Yes, I am an alien, and a rather dashing one too, I must say," Primetime finished, making a kissing face at his reflection before tossing the mirror out into space. "So, are you perhaps interested in partnering with moi, my darling?" Voyager blinked, still taken aback by the revelation before something shifted below her feet. Looking down at the satellite, no doubt beginning to prepare to fire, she returned to forcefully work on the panel.

"I am sorry, but I really do not have the time to discuss this, Mister Primetime," Voyager declared. "Now if you do not mind, you're standing on my metal plate." Primetime clucked his tongue, stepping back to allow the alien heroine to work.

"Perhaps another time then," the microphone-headed alien sad sadly. "Assuming you're still around to light up a stage. Best of luck to you, darling!"

Looking up as Voyager finally pried off the metal covering, she found space empty and abandoned once again, just as distant figures began to come into view.